StanleyWheeler

The third installment of the Kru Chronicles -- Kru Wars actually is a better title. These episodes will tie together eventually. Pictures at the end. Tellereth Outpost (Part I) C opyright © 2020 Stanley Wheeler All Rights Reserved   “I win!” Zanfreth said, slamming his cards down on the top of the table, sending the pile of small, round, multi-colored cylinders of wood scattering across the table. Mellereth pounded the table. “I think your luck has been running mighty high. Are you sure you’re not in league with the pale lady?” “Do not even jest about that!” Kolmor ordered. “Take your sticks, Zanfreth. If we ever get paid again, we’ll pay you according to the sticks of each man’s color you hold.” Mellereth opened his hands before him, asking the other three at the table, “Could a man league with the pale lady and have her change his luck? They say she does magic.” “Sorcery,” Kolmor corrected. “As for leaguing with her, we’ll never know. None of our envoys to h...

This is the next installment of the Kru Chronicles. The first one, which contains some background and description on the Kru and Nahorn, can be found here:  Liwana's Calling  This story also comes from an AAR of a miniatures game, so character development is almost nonexistent but there's plenty of spearing, hacking, and chopping. An Old Wound C opyright © 2020 Stanley Wheeler All Rights Reserved      Fleroth squinted against the breeze and held one hand against his thick, gray brows to shield out the sun to sharpen his vision. Those brows had grown gray in the service of Nahorn. Yes. He could see the six dark figures loping toward the ruin at the end of the valley. They had to be Kru scouts coming to discover the status of the strong point. Eoroth had first spied the Kru scouts as dark specks moving against the gray-green landscape of the plain, hurrying from one patch of scrub brush to the next. Fleroth remembered when his keen eyes had been the...

"Grandpa, I'm ascared to tell you something," he said behind the locked door. He said that about six time before saying, "I'm afraid you'll get mad if I tell you something." He said that three or four times. Eventually, he told me his concern, and informed me that if I or his brother had a problem with it, we would just have to deal with it. I didn't get mad. We really didn't have to deal with anything. I was spending time with Les Freres Corses -- The Corsican Brothers--as I've dubbed them after Dumas' famous novel; or rather they were spending time with me as everyone else was off doing things, and I alone was left to supervise the adorable masters of destruction. We went on to finish gathering the walnuts from the yard, and filling the flat tire on the van. The latter involved complications. As the tire had gone completely flat a few days ago, the seal around the rim had broken. All the air I pumped into the tire escaped ...

Liwana’s Calling This is actually a story adapted from an AAR of a test of my skirmish rules. It's rather light on character development, but I thought it was a good exercise. It's a replay of the scenario I posted last week with a couple minor adjustments to the rules--and very different outcome. Not all of the formatting transferred when I copied, but I think I got most of it corrected. C opyright © 2020 Stanley Wheeler All Rights Reserved      Dured stood next to the side entrance of the crumbling ruin where Sergeant Vilmo had stationed him. Vilmo himself guarded the main entrance only about fifteen feet away. That entrance consisted of a complete archway. The rectangular, gray, lichen-speckled stones rose up ten feet or more over the doorway. If there had ever been any door, it had long since decayed, or been carried away by the wind, or by fugitives seeking firewood. The black stain in the center of the ruined building hinted at the latter possibil...