Possessing the Grimstone - By John Grover Page 0,78

group of protectors; very weak, but have fleet of foot.

The Circle Guard – A group of knights of Cardoon who rotate a checkpoint between their city, the Red Coast, and the lands to the North. They travel this route in a circle and report back to Cardoon.

Bonus Material

An Excerpt from The Scepter of Namiss

Story 1 of the Books of Braenyn

Braenyn the elf stood in the inner sanctum of the crypt. Shafts of pale milk-white moonlight shimmered through grated windows in the corners of the musty room but it was not enough to illuminate the entire place. The dust of ages lying thick on the floor was undisturbed, even though the rotting wooden doors he passed through looked as if someone had tried to break their way out of here.

He surveyed the area with sword in hand, his grandfather’s sword, handed down to him through the generations, its hilt ornate with carvings of great serpents and runes of the Elven Gods. Sconces that lined the decayed walls remained unlit for centuries. Braenyn waved his hand, his eyes glowing white and, with the power that coursed through his blood, ignited them. The flames brought much needed light to the dank crypt.

Before him he noticed a couple of tombs. Encrusted in cobwebs and dust, their foundations were cracked with decay and moisture. There were carvings and inscriptions on them that he couldn’t decipher. He walked over and pulled one of the torches from the sconces, spider webs entangled it like tentacles and stretched across the room as Braenyn moved.

He bent to a tomb and saw lettering on the side, some of it faded over the years. It looked to be a hybrid of ancient human, Elven and Netherling language but he couldn’t quite read it.

A chill slithered up his spine and he shivered, even his studded leather armor was not enough to stifle the cold of this place. The smell of rot hung heavy in his nostrils. He walked around the perimeter of the tomb, examining every crevice well aware that traps might wait to spring upon an inexperienced rogue or thief. Braenyn was neither.

Satisfied, he placed his torch down and sheathed his sword. With both hands he pushed the tomb’s lid and attempted to open it but it would not budge. It felt as if it weighed a thousand tons. It would not open and he was much too weak to make the outcome any different. He thought about using magic but his people viewed it as a vile desecration to use magic on the dead or their places of rest, a curse upon those who did. Besides, he didn’t know any spells that would open tombs.

He eyed the second tomb…identical to the first and approached it to try his luck there. No. It too guarded its secrets well. Well, he thought, if the Scepter of Namiss was in one of those tombs he would have to find another way to get to it.

It was still a little soon however and he wasn’t even deep beneath the ground yet. It would hardly seem likely that the scepter would be this close to the outside world. These tombs were probably just guardians to the lower levels, used to ward off spirits and the living.

No…foolish tales for the children. He didn’t believe in such things. Dead guardians protecting crypts? Absurd. Now Black Hearts, Netherlings, Ogres, Coil worms, Shadow spiders-those were real things…real threats.

But he didn’t think he’d run into any here. Maybe a Netherling, but the crypt seemed to be deserted for a very long time. He was sure he was alone.

He picked up his torch and walked about the room, a set of stone steps waited at the back of it, he would have missed it if not for the torchlight he provided himself with. The light danced about the walls, casting shadows that moved and played tricks with his mind. He swore a shadow moved as if alive, whisking down the steps like a child at play. He shook the feeling off. He would not be spooked, nor frightened away from untold wealth and glory. The scepter waited.

He started down the stairs, dust ruffled in his wake while cobwebs clung to his face. His torchlight revealed fungus and mold growing like rashes all over the stone walls. Some fungus was known to have healing properties, but not this. Only glowing fungus had the power to heal.

The steps curled and twisted into the darkness…the pitch-black…the unknown. He stopped dead in his tracks as