Years ago, I started this blog by posting snippets and blurbs about my upcoming novels, and comic books, and stories. None of those things have been published or otherwise come to fruition. A whole LOT of life has happened in between then and now. I’ve moved across the country and lived in four different states and a worldwide virus killed countless people and we’re all still coming to grips with that, I think.
And now, here I am, at 11:33pm, in a midwestern city that’s too big for me, with Finn, my cat, drinking a mostly decaf latte and typing. I’ve been sleeping all day. I don’t know what that was about, but now I’m wide awake and I think it’s time I got back to writing things again.
I have an endless number of world fragments in my head and stories to scatter throughout them. Most recently, I took you to the brutal, corrupted wilderness of Sjolskheim, and I’ve written at length about the Westeros-inspired Tricostora. I’d like to take you soon to other places, I’d like to revisit Lunefreya, as I’ll be writing it into my latest book soon, and I’d like to introduce you to a cyberpunk-meets-space-opera city and explore it together.
I don’t want to sound like a broken record. Every time I think everything is going to be okay, it turns out that it isn’t. My mental health has been horrible because my future hasn’t felt like it’s in my control for a long while now. Whenever I make a plan, the critical components crumble to dust. But I do have a plan again, and as long as it holds out this time, I think you can expect to start seeing new worlds (and new words) from me soon enough.
The lands of Sjiolskheim are plagued with the madness of beasts, accursed blood, vengeful spirits, and diseases beyond the ken of mortal minds. Settled once by followers of the Brightfather and His Lady of Flame, the men and women dwelling in the region its native goblins call The Brightblight are a desperate, haggard, and hopeless lot, looked down upon by a Great Cathedral built in the mountains from which miraculous cures trickle down but little.
The afflictions that have ensavaged the dark wilds and decimated communities all started after the settlers desecrated the Ziggurat in the Five-Headed Swamp to the south and a messenger from the Starry Heavens, worshipped as the Wunderlich by some, fell out of the sky like the fist of an angry goddess. The velocity and force of the body’s cosmic fall plunged it leagues beneath the earth and caused the Ziggurat to sink into the muck. Sickness took hold of the land, then, and all manner of alien parasites and contagion spread from the crater like wildfire.
Further south even than the Five-Headed Swamp, beyond the mountains that seal Sjiolskheim off from the ocean lies the fishing and port town that has been abandoned by the new church, but not by The Old King and those who follow The Old Ways. From Ordova one could ride the lift all the way up to Anhederast, the High Mountain Villageif one could convince Elias the Old King to open it once again. If not, a treacherous network of caves is the only other way into the mainland, but they have been touched by madness much like all of Sjiolskheim has…
Should travelers emerge from these Lost Caverns, so named for how often those fool enough to enter them have become lost, they may find themselves in a handful of places. Those lucky enough to take the most straightforward of paths through the caverns, if such a thing can be said to exist among them, then they will discover a large village nestled in the foothills east of the Five-Headed Swamp, a place called Deliverance where a heavier hand from the Great Cathedral of Anhederast can be felt, and some semblance of prosperity is yet enjoyed.
However, there are other, increasingly incredulous passages out of the Lost Caves. One such route ascends through the mountains and leads up to the High Mountain Village itself where travelers may be surprised to find themselves unwelcome without being first invited by a noble of this “Pure” society.
Yet another still sees travelers propelled far, far to the north, as if by eldritch trick, to a region not so distant, in fact, from the goblins’ secret home in the earth, Cavehaven.
The most common paths lead, of course, to their travelers’ early graves; however, rumors persist in Ordova by the Sea, and in the village Deliverance. Rumors that within these caves, travelers can find Chaos Shrines dedicated to some heathen goddess of the moon or some other. Shrines that hold power over Time itself, haunted by spirits of the dead, that the desperate have come to believe can return the dead to life, or grant ancient knowledge forgotten now by the world of the living.
Between Cavehaven in the north and the Five-Headed Swamp in the south, only two other villages are known to exist, though it is believed that some others still exist. Nihlolaewthel, the City of Commerce (The Culture of Crime), nestled by the Great Serpent River that feeds the swamps in the south, and another, hidden deep within the Dark Woods where it is said that a Wolf Mother rules the wild.
The Hidden Village, called Bloodhaven by the common folk, trades indeed, in the blood of a wide variety of creatures. The Priestess there is a practitioner of bloodletting and blood purification, and the blacksmith and alchemist know forbidden ways of incorporating into their crafts the accursed blood afflicting the monsters that dwell in the shadows of the Dark Woods.
In the days before the building of the High Mountain Village an outpost of Knights and their soldiery, servants, and retainers held fast against the horrors of these woods in the mountains to the east. This Eastwatch served as the rearguard and supply station for those making the journey into the high mountains south, and for those building Anhederast and its Great Cathedral. Like, Ordova, Eastwatch is said to have been abandoned by the church sometime after the plagues began to overtake the wilderness below, and it is presumed the assorted companies and regiments and their families died out decades ago. However some say they can still see firelights in the eastern mountains, signaling travelers to come and seek shelter at their ancient fortress…
What lies to the west of the Great Serpent Lake past the western edge of the Dark Woods is unclear. It is believed to be even more savage and dangerous as reported by the few travelers that have returned alive to tell their tales. The seers and prognosticators of the Haruspect Observatory built upon the inverted bottom of the now Sunken Ziggurat claim to have seen the presence of a great, festering evil deep in the bowels of the mountains far across the western wilds, an ancient thing of coruscating hatred, locked in a cosmic war with their goddess the Wunderlich. The few goblins that have spoken of the matter to the human settlers in the Brightblight do so only fearfully, muttering of facing the terrible dawn. Save for the legendary goblin warrior-poet, Nilbog the Mad, who claimed to be building the bedrock of his church at the opening of a terrible gaping maw in the earth. It called to him, he said, and named it T̵͇̪̳͈̲̎̾͠ȟ̵̢͕̦̼̪̻̲̾̌ͅe̷͓̟̟͎͔͓̫͗́̑̂̊͛͒ ̷̺͚͇̩͔͕̅̇͘Ȯ̴̬̝̪̣̟̌̏l̶̹̪̜̃̽͒̽̍̀̑͝d̸̟̭̙̍͂͐̃ ̷̻̳̦̏͊͌̋̉̈́̕C̴̰̪͇̀̃̊̔h̸̢̺͉̩͂̏͜A̵̻̪͔͝ö̴͓́̾̒͠S̶̛͉̱̝̦̞̞̞̅̄́̓͆͠, and so Nilbog went, festooned as if a high general at parade, he and other mad folk aligned to his cause, into that great unknown. They were never seen eastward again.
Our story begins on the shore, our characters each dropped off at the Trade Port of Ordova for their own reasons. Ordova doesn’t get much trade from foreign lands these days, and indeed you were delivered there on a pirate vessel known by The Old King.
Where do you hail from? When asked about their mother lands, settlers of Sjiolskheim are tight-lipped, often saying only that “they are no more.” The pirates say that the seas to the east are stagnating and the winds are dying out.
The world is in decline. Whatever strange madness has despoiled the very earth of Sjiolskheim, similar curses seem to hold sway over various elements in the places that lie beyond the lake to the west and the ocean in the east, isolating ancient allies from one another, ignorant of their shared plight.
Reimagining the Soulsian Formulae within the framework of, sort of an OSR Final Fantasy/High Fantasy setting.
Storm King Geoffrey Eldrang rules the Gilded Vale of the Heartlands, a beautiful green countryside of barley, wheat, and corn farms, wildflower meadows, and forests of aspen, beech, oak, ginkgo, and fir. Home to the storied wandering traders, the Garalzi, a tribe of skilled hunters and gatherers (also Shifters, catgirls and wolfmen, connections to The Moon and the Moth Monarchs), the Gilded Vale is a prosperous, peaceful land of plenty. To the southeast lies the mist-shrouded Deepwood Peninsula, hedged westward by the Great Seawall on the eastern shore. King Geoffrey maintains a small retinue of powerful war galleons, but the majority of his navy is formally controlled by the Deep Baron, Comte Montague de Faciel, the Lord of Cragstone Keep, so that he may serve as a policing force for the band of pirates that operated in and out of a vast network of ancient caves and tunnels throughout the Peninsula and Seawall. The Storm King is advised by Garalzir Selkast, Master Navigator, while Comte Montague is served by Candor Calcopyri a great Dwarfen Astronomer.
Desperate and hungry goblins roam the plains hunting easy prey for survival but can allow their greed to get the better of them should they spy a particularly wealthy adventurer’s camp. Birds share the skies with griffins and harpies, and throughout the fields, large packs of wolves led by barghests assert their dominance over the wilds (though the Garalzi know their speech and can negotiate with them). Throughout the Heartlands you’re just as likely to find a troll in a cave as you are a bear, and in the tunnels below the eastern Seawall, it is rumored the pirates are plagued with horrible Walking Squids and their psychically dominated abominations. A secret goblin city is rumored to exist within the Deepwood, and shrouded within the forest’s mists are all manner of faerie creatures such as the mysterious Cadhannwn, a great cat that never makes a sound and can vanish into thin air.
From Ald en Solaris, the Great City of Gold, Hamadryad Sommarwydh leads the Sun Elves in holy worship of the sun acting as the de facto High Lord of the Realms as well as Priestess of the Most Holy in the Faith. Her Lysalfein Crusaders are renowned for their chivalrous deeds, glorious skill at arms, and warm countenance, and they lead the largest, best trained, and best-equipped army in all the Realm. Her Ælfking, Lord Robheart Conwy, a tall, beautiful man, often whispered of in tones of jealousy and suspicion among Sun Elves in privacy, serves as this army’s Commander. The great Green Giants and Golden Eagles make their home in the sunbathed plateaulands surrounding the Great City, and they serve as envoys and messengers to and from the Hamadryad between a circle of druids nestled in the Moldering Valley who worship a powerful Nature Spirit. The Moldering Valley is filled with such spirits, strange beasts of wings, and fur, and subtle magic, led by the colossal Branching Beast with the horns of an elk, the feet of an elephant, the paws of a giant lion, and green vines and ferns growing from ancient wounds.
In the north, it is not unheard of to encounter vengeful nature spirits of animals slain in the name of Divine Providence. In addition to the Green Giants, much further north, across the Shivering Sea, live a ragged, spiteful race of Frost Giants who wish to see nothing less than the world set aflame. They will occasionally sail across the gap to attack Green Giants or wage a fully-fledged assault upon the Great City of Gold itself. Large numbers of deer, elk, moose, and bears all share the land with mammoths and giant lizards, and turtles. Goblins have long been driven south, slaughtered in droves in bygone wars, but some of their heartiest numbers managed to survive. At first, they did so by adopting the Solar Faith of the Hamadryad, but later by perverting it. These hobgoblins are tall and strong, authoritarian and militaristic, and practice heretical sorceries to call forth fire and demons.
To the west, hidden behind thick walls of fog, across the Stormgate Peaks, and beyond miles of marshes and bogs that surround the river valley, lies the remote Mothlight College of Astral Arcana. In ancient times Sun Elves banished from the Great City came to settle in these beshadowed lands, harried by will o’wisps and ghosts that herded them toward the shelter of caves settled by the Old Dwarfs of Starbarrow who taught them astronomy so that they might avoid becoming prey to the disastrous Moth Monarchs that had ruled the land from the Silver Spine mountains in the west with their terrible might and freezing moon magics. Avoiding the light, the ancient Sun Elves grew pale and lost the grace of their guiding sunlight, only to seek wisdom from the stars, becoming gifted magicians and soothsayers, these Silvermoon Elfs of Lunaria. Gargramm the Old Dwarf King discovered the Slumbering Crystal of Earth deep below the Starbarrow and claims to have been first taught the movements of the stars by an Eldritch voice. It also told him to seek after other Slumbering Crystals, ones of Wind, Water, Fire, and even Shadow, in order to gain power enough to unfurl the shackles of the Moth Monarchs and challenge the very Sun in the sky.
The ruins of ancient Dwarfen settlements are scattered throughout Lunaria, haunted by confused ghosts, corrupted robber-wraiths, and ectokites that glide atop rising fog banks and feed on spiritual anima. Indeed, many graverobbers and necromancers venture into Lunaria seeking to plunder the Dwarfs’ secrets, but the College employs assassins and inquisitors to hunt them down with ruthless efficiency. It’s the sahaugin one must really worry about, amphibious lizardmen who worship an evil, alien god, and who seem capable of dredging up decayed horrors of the sea from far beneath the swamp muck. Enslaved by the Moth Monarchs, these sahaugin maintain a ramshackle village where they secretly conspire amongst themselves to destroy the Moon to free themselves from their bondage in a single, decisive blow that could never be undone. Various pests grow to terrible size in the Lunarian swamp such as grubs, mosquitos, and ticks. Beware the Black Dog.
As the Holy Sun rises to greet each new day, so too will the Sol-Blessed, from the ashes of defeat, defiant and renewed. Lamptrees grown from Seeds of the Sun are watered by the liquid light of their faith. These Sol-Blessed, having pledged undying fealty to the Hamadryad, receive a Light Ampule pendant that serves not only as a symbol of Sommarwydh’s favor but also as a mechanism that restores the Sol-Blessed to life, should they perish in their adventures, at the nearest Lamptree at dawn. With this boon, the Sol-Blessed are tasked with seeking out the Slumbering Crystals and snuffing out the forces of darkness that threaten to awaken their chaotic power to block out the sun.
A bloody archive and research hall for Red Ledger Lumnospexi seeking Divine Truth.
Built upon the inverted bottom of the sunken Ziggurat in the Five-Headed Swamps, the Haruspect Observatory is a notorious center for profane knowledge frequented by starry-eyed madmen on the path of the Lumnospex. A Lumnospex is a kind of soothsayer but instead of casting runes or peering into crystals, these depraved scholars read the very blood of beasts in search of the Capillaries of the Cosmos. Their studies are openly occult in nature, on the surface resembling little more than an academic form of religious worship of the Celestial Body buried in the tombs below. The Lumnospexi of the observatory take the scriptures quite literally to mean that a body fell to the earth from the cosmos and, lacking Her blood to glean truth from, they perform ghastly rituals and procedures on living things, tearing them apart, pulling forth their organs, and taking note of everything they find in their grisly insides. Through these anatomical studies, they say, they can peel back the fleshy veil of the night sky and come to understand the motions and the motives of the beating Heart of the Stars itself.
Prone to fits of mania, delirium, and schizophrenia, these Red Ledger Lumnospexi claim to call forth knowledge from beyond the stars and become implanted with the blueprints for all manner of heretical gadgetry and forbidden science. Electricity, steam power, and advanced combustion are just a few of the eldritch secrets they claim to have been granted by communion with the Far Ones. They are credited with the destructive invention of the firearm, though it is widely held that the church perfected it. Many of these disciplines are considered too extreme and unreliable to even be dabbled in by the rest of civilization, and the Lumnospexi’s inventions have an ill repute for dangerous malfunction. Perhaps the result of secrets too great for small minds to grasp.
Despite their barbaric methodology and very loose grip on reality, the scholars of the Haruspect Observatory have made numerous, incredible advancements in the fields of anatomy, astronomy, biology, even industry and freely share their knowledge with anyone with the moxy to brave the swamps seeking it. However, the stigma of their heresy leaves most of Sjolskheim ignorant, and for the time being it would seem they’re better off that way.
Artist unknown. Message me if you know the artist!
Over the course of another hundred years, the people of Undgeofein suffered, even as they spread Easterly throughout the woods to the north of the Many-Headed Swamp. Tormented by monsters both within and without their communities, riddled with disease, they managed, just West of a vast basin lake that collected from the streams of the mountains North, to build another city for themselves, the desperate and lawless merchant town of Nihlolaewthel where they began to re-earn the name Raiders for themselves.
Meanwhile, the Great Church began the long, arduous process of sequestering themselves, and their reliquaries, high up the southeastern mountains, where they found a small patch of fertile, peaty ground upon which to hide from the plagues and the beasts below. An ivory tower from which to judge the struggling. A “lighthouse” from which to “guide” the lost. What a joke.
As the decades passed, church archivists and reliquarians began delving through ancient texts and caches of religious paraphernalia, and not just of their own society’s either, in search of some salvation from Chronopsiea’s wrath. Through arts spoken only of in the hushed dark, the Grand Vicars devised means to purify and bolster one’s blood, in both offensive and defensive rituals against the beasts and the plague. Practicing bloodletting and imbibing tinctures of saint’s bones or crumbled mummified remains preserved in alcohol, and other even darker medicines, the priesthood found they could skim cursed blood from victims, dilute their remaining blood with holy blood exhumed from beneath the bogs, and purify what blood they had extracted to combine and recycle into their stores of old saints’ blood.
It was in the settlements and wildlands below where the practice of combining purified blood with iron and lead to make holy bullets, or blood bullets as the secular folks tend to call them, to strike out against the beasts with a very visual and visceral punch, exposing the beasts’ cursed blood to searing, explosive purification from the inside out. The lay Vicars of Undgeofein and Nihlolaewthel, lacking access to the resources of the Great Church of the High Mountain Village often resort to using a single blessed Clockwork Ankh, the holy symbol of Goddess Chronopsiea, to purify their own blood, and quench their thirst with copious alcohol to purify themselves from the inside even as they protect their flock and stalk the night with their firearms.
When the Raiders of Nihlolaewthel crossed the ocean and began cutting grooves of blood through the forests and meadows of the Old World, within years they had discovered the Impossible Ziggurat that stood tall upon the waterlogged loam of the Many-Headed Swamp. Slaying those that built it, and washing its many steps and halls with the blood of their priesthood, the raiders sacked it for treasures and built their first city to the East–Undgeofein–in the shadow of the craggy mountains along the coast. Before long they began enshrining their fallen heroes in the Ziggurat.
Soon after, the curse took hold. In vengeance for the massacre visited upon her people, the Goddess Chronopsiea doomed these men to fall to Beasthood, either through terrible, excruciating transformation into monsters themselves, or at the tooth and claw of the creatures of the wild, themselves transformed into savage, nightmarish things of unnatural strength and tenacity.
Generations of Raiders died, lords and constables buried in or around the Ziggurat, before their living leaders even considered making amends for the foul deeds they had done more than a hundred years hence. Their clergy began to study what scriptures and tablets remained of Chronopsiea’s slaughtered people, and to incorporate what doctrines they could into their own religious teachings. They spoke of her in mournful and reverent tones, preaching of the tragic error of their ways, beseeching her forgiveness. This seemed to move the Goddess, though not, perhaps the way they had intended. After the Ziggurat itself sank and the beasts of the land grew suddenly in size and number, and a plague began to sweep the land, the holy men first began employing the gravediggers. Hastily exhuming their ancestors from the fallen ruins, the Raiders hoped not only to salvage their histories and relics, but also to do whatever they could to assuage the Curse of Chronopsiea. The job attracted all sorts of occultists and robbers and though the Great Geofeinine Church recovered much of value–artifacts and apocrypha that would form the basis for their new battle against the Curse of Chronopsiea–soon the swamps swarmed with vengeful spirits and shambling dead.
I don’t normally review books, though, why I don’t is beyond me, I mean, I wrote a dozen-page essay review of Final Fantasy 7 Remake after I beat it last year, you’d think I could muster a few hundred words for a book review.
The truth is… I haven’t been reading in a long while. The last book I finished was Chad Ryan’s Ghost River in November of 2020 and I’d not really been active in this space then. I did post a review on Goodreads and Amazon, but I didn’t post one here. But I’m reading more now and I’ve got some more things to say now that I’m a little bit, maybe, kinda back.
Micah Chaim Thomas’ The Little Demons Inside is a dense, rich, savory meal of a book, no side dishes, no fillers and the author speaks with a charmingly classic American voice that’s at once modern and disaffected, at time brooding even, and yet refreshingly succinct, to-the-point and evocative almost of Hemingway and Henry David Thoreau. Self-published and self-edited, as I assume all of his works are, there is an impressive clarity of purpose to the entire work and only few small errors here and there, a missed word or a spelling error. I don’t think I ever encountered a grammatical error and not one sentence ever tripped me up as to what the author was intending to say.
The speculative fiction book, part paranormal adventure, part “real-life” superhero horror story, and part science-fiction, begins with a dense bit of, I hesitate to call it exposition, it’s not, it’s a character attempting to explain very heady philosophical and ontological concepts from beyond human sensory comprehension, presumably to a human. The character understands how complicated and difficult the explanation is going to be for the audience, and the character itself struggles to communicate exactly what they are saying. When I first attempted to read the book, I bounced off from this part to my shame. It’s just heavy, man. But I had the opportunity to do a sort of performance read of the first passage, the book’s prologue, and with the added emotion put to the words, the whole scene came to life and I was really excited to read the rest of the book. So, if I had anything “negative” to say about the book is that the prologue is i n t e l l e c t u a l, perhaps too opaque for a lot of readers. The chapters that follow are well-paced, engaging, and filled with multiple endearing, often tragic characters. And it’s not that the prologue is bad, after reading through a third or so of the book, I realized why it needs to be there, right at the beginning. It seems like a lot when you start the book, but without that context you can’t really understand some of the ideas the book starts to explore as it moves forward.
As you dig into the chapters themselves, each one is long and filled with compelling narrative, compelling characters, and lots of depth. What the author does in most of his chapters, especially early on, is ensure that he touches in with what’s happening with all of his wide range of characters in every chapter. I barely even noticed until I reached page 100 and realized I just turned to Chapter Four. It became just an almost silly bit of fun, how long I eventually realized each of the book’s chapters were. If that bothers you, well, just know what you’re getting into, but even in the middle of every chapter, there are clean breaks, checkpoints if you will, to stop reading for the day.
And the cast of characters is so entertaining to follow. A pyrokinetic vagrant, tormented by loss and abandonment, filled with intense self-loathing; an ex-military nurse who works mostly with terminal, often elderly patients who is seeking something new, seeking what, she’s not sure; and a closeted, gay, black police officer in a conservative southwestern town, a good cop and a good man trying to make the world a slightly better place who gets swept up in events way beyond his control let alone comprehension. These are among the shiniest of stars in the diverse cast of characters, though there are plenty of others who guest star or from whose point of view we watch the world of the book unfold, a very “normal” 2017ish slice of Americana, normal except for the actions, and the consequences of those actions, of two or three extradimensional beings making plays in agendas known only to them upon our poor, ignorant world.
The Little Demons Inside manages to dive deeply not just into the very molecular structure of our material reality, but just as deeply into human spirituality, interpersonal connection, and the human psyche, and the author does so with this deft sense of expression, clear, concise, communicating sometimes mind-boggling minutiae or impossibly vast concepts with simple, thoughtful language, turns of phrase and bits of descriptive detail I would have never thought of, making a scene in which a character perceives and feels the excitement of an object’s potential for combustion just as easily grokked as one of waiting at the bus stop. Aside from the entertainment value of the plot and the story itself, a fun sort of sci-fi romp involving government conspiracy, the hubris of man, and higher wonders of the cosmos, it is the author’s voice and pacing that really shines and stands out to me as exceptional of itself, making the book not just readable but something that felt weighty and profound.
And it is a heavy book, make no mistake. It comes with its own Content Warning on the back, and while I didn’t personally find it disturbing, there are a few scenes, especially in the latter half of the book, as things begin to go somewhat off the rails for our characters, that could bother some people. The author and his story never shy away from the darker, grimier side of humanity, and it starts to explore some exponentially darker and grimier cosmic entities towards the end as well. Lots of people die in The Little Demons Inside and lots of exploitative, abusive things happen in the book. In fact, no that I think about it, very little “good” happens to anyone in it, especially in the objective sense, but it still left me feeling somehow uplifted, somehow enlightened, and with yearning for more adventures. Luckily this is Book 1 of… I don’t know how many, but I will soon find out!
Go check it out, personally, I give it a 5 out of 5, it’s really smart, it’s really engaging and fun, the plot is tight and cohesive, never rambling for a moment, and the characters are entertaining. I don’t know what genre to say, so I can say, “if you like [bla], you’ll like this,” because it, for me anyway, it somewhat defies stylistic conventions, but it’s a little bit sci-fi and a lotta bit Americana and handles both big space-y craziness and little human moments with equal skill and thought. It was superb!
We’re nearing the one week mark, today we started Day 5 with $911 out of our $3500 goal! I’m doing everything I can to promote my baby comic book, my first ever indie comic book made in collaboration with artist Ariel S. Viola, Sideromandron is a fresh blend of modern superhero action and science fiction influenced heavily by ancient Greek philosophy and myths!
Please do share the link around and if you like what you’re reading and seeing, consider becoming a backer!
We’ve got 27 days left ahead of us and we’ve made good progress so far, but we’ve still got quite a ways to go! I hope you’ll support us on this first step of what I hope Ariel and I can continue along with as a very long journey! If we can fund Sideromandron #1, there’s five more issues I want to bring to light and even that only scratches the surface of the world and the entire, crumbling universe that Sideromandron is set in filled to bursting with characters and stories I’ve got to show and to tell you! Thanks for reading and thanks for supporting Sideromandron!
The Waybetween 