PS Extraordinary Tales's Portfolio

Chapter VII ‘Maybe you’re out of ammo, maybe the gun is knocked out of your hand. Maybe you discover what you save in coin buying cheap tin-cased bullets ain’t worth your trusty .45 jamming at the wrong moment. The point is, sooner or later shooting won’t be an option. I’ve seen more...

Chapter VI ‘On the first day, let all feast and make merry. But before nourishing the body, Let there be a more generous banquet for the soul,’ - ‘The Prism of Heaven’, Chapter 6: Verse 22 It was by all accounts a fine Sunday meal, though perhaps ‘feast’ was too strong a word...

Chapter V ‘Honor the lawman, that selfless soul who shields his people from all foes. But armed though he is with iron and righteous thunder, he is only one man. When his need is great, those of able body and dutiful mind must answer his call of justice, And stand in arms alongside...

Chapter IV ‘The widespread tales of magicks, monsters, and other such unsubstantiated phenomena find fertile soil indeed in the unlearned minds of the hard-working roughnecks who people our frontiers. It is only to be expected that these unlettered frontiersmen would give such...

Chapter III “Man prays on top of mountain for seven days, asking gods for wisdom. On seventh night it rains, and gods tell him ‘Wise man has dry clothes.’ “ - Native Mesconan folk tale All of Dormis stood clustered about the squat white-washed steeple that served as the local...

Chapter II 'Here lies Antonius of the house of Ricker who spurned the gods and bore no sons Let trespassers heed this omen and begone For the warmth of a beating heart is unwelcome here - Epitaph of Antonius Ricker Here was the grave of Antonius Ricker, with its basalt burial marker...

Chapter I 'Let us pray for those who are lost, that they may find their way the sooner Let our hope be a beacon by which the wayward find salvation Pray for he who is blind, that by grace he may behold the light But let he who shuts his eyes be forever damned Let us pray.' - Gareth...

Prologue Marcus had been one of few who could stand boorish Old Man Ricker, but it had been duty rather than friendship that had drawn him on this occasion to the remote homestead where the miser dwelt. For some years, Marcus had been the sheriff of Dormis. So it was that he was one of three...