Mention the words 'Strong Female Character' and immediately a visage of a tigress fills your head. She is powerful and fearless, unbeatable in combat, sexually alluring, takes no nonsense from anyone,

This is the next part of the sword and sorcery story... Image by natureworks from Pixabay VELL DOES HIS BIT “You’re all at my mercy now,” said the student. “Let’s see where my imagination can get me. I’m

This is the next part of the sword and sorcery tale... Image by OpenClipart-Vectors from Pixabay THE MASTER AND THE STUDENT OF GREAT STORY TELLING “Then what happened master?” asked Vell the humble student.

This one is an adventure story set mostly in the future and is a sword and sorcery story... Image by Karen Smits from Pixabay ZEN MEETS BORNU “Where are my friends?” said Zen as she supped her drink in

This is part two of my sword and sorcery series... It was beginning to get dark as they headed up a narrow cobbled lane into what looked like a fishing village, but as they went further up the steep lane

This one is about sword and sorcery kind of adventure with wizards, kings, heroes, witches and demons... Ten thousand years later the world was covered by an impenetrable fog. All land had vanished beneath

The left side of her face was a mass of scar tissue. Jagged ridges stood proud where Rix had sawed through her cheek. Time had robbed her hair of its blue tint, matching its colour to the cool silver of

Sark Ore strolled through Central Dunnholme. A tune on his lips, he reached for the leather purse at his belt. Its weight and the feeling of hard currency straining the skink skin put a spring in his step.

Even without the gore dripping from her chin, Sark could see the madness in Brig's grin. A clotted lump of his life's blood congealed on her lower lip. Gravity tugged at the coagulated mess. Blue eyes

He came around slowly. Hammers pounded the inside of his skull. Every breath replayed the dull click in his chest. A second, more sonourous, note snapped in his throat. His jaw ached. Probing a molar with

The four inverted shadows moved from the cavern's entrance. Shovel drawn up spear-like in a double-handed grip, the speaker circled around to Sark's right. His companion followed suit, the cross-guard

Fist clenched, he fixed his stare on the swirling morass of blue null light. Sark listened to the activity around him. Chained fists retrieved picks and shovels. Ore cart wheels screached on iron rails.

Sark allowed his pick to drop from fingers deadened by toil. It's iron head clattered off gouged stone, striking sparks from more solid materials. Hands throbbing, he swatted rivulets of perspiration from

Another lash ripped open the dwarf's pale grey skin. Knotted leather parted flesh and set rich, red blood flowing from the open wound. Mouth a twisted rictus, Sark Ore balled his hands into tight fists.