Land of Salvania

  AI Alert: I animated my original image using AI tools. See the original still image and story here:  https://landofsalvania.blogspot.com/2025/05/the-wolves-rejoicing.html /// Copyright (Check out  Mick's Fantasy and Sci-Fi Emporium  for my curated list of goodies to satisfy your LARP and cosplay pleasure.  Look for the latest DISCOUNT codes from my partners.)

  The tracker whistled loudly, a long, warbling whistle that echoed down the valley. A hoot came back.  Moments later, Panadel drifted overhead on silent wings and landed on his arm. "Good morning, Sweetling," she said to the old woodsman, her spirit voice sounding clearly in his mind.  "Did you find the tracks?" The tracker squatted, showing her the broad, muddy print left by a troll.  The owl adjusted her talons and hopped gently down his arm to a better vantage.  "Its a big one," she said.  "It is.  But it ain't healthy."  He touched the soft ground, and ran his finger along a crooked toe print.  "Broken or disloacted toe.  Probably hurts like hell." Panadel preened a little, working a white feather back into place.  "I saw nothing from on high.  Maybe it came through yesterday." "Yep." "Got any meat?" she asked, suddenly. The old tracker smiled.  Long conversations bored both of them.  He pulled a b...

  Ritter smelled the garg long before he heard it moving slowly through the forest.  Absently, he wondered if gargs thought people smelled as bad as they did. He was breaking camp, so he continued, pretending to be oblivious to the stalking creature. His sword was ready, and he could use the few coins its head would bring in the next town.  Some cunning woman could probably use the eyes and brain for poisons - or love potions.  It was all silliness to Ritter.  Coins were real.  Potions were just a way to help people believe whatever they wanted to believe. /// Copyright (Check out  Mick's Fantasy and Sci-Fi Emporium  for my curated list of goodies to satisfy your LARP and cosplay pleasure.  Look for the latest DISCOUNT codes from my partners.)

 Ulrich thought the full moon on the snow was beautiful.  The night was as silent as his shadow that stretched across the drifts. A distant, lonely call of a wolf floated over the hills, and a snatch of an old song came to mind along with a memory of dark northern nights around the fire in his father's long house. We fought with spears, 'Neath the snowy peaks. Our shields were bloody: Our swords were notched. Showers of arrows we endured, though some were pierced. And among the swords and cries,  Malkinir fell in the conflict, A greater king never was. Wide on the snow lay the newly dead: And we heard the wolves rejoicing. /// Copyright (Check out  Mick's Fantasy and Sci-Fi Emporium  for my curated list of goodies to satisfy your LARP and cosplay pleasure.  Look for the latest DISCOUNT codes from my partners.)