Tara swung again at the beast, her hammer whiffing through the air. This time it had managed to dodge her properly, but then, sure enough, it disappeared. Pop! The sound was almost comical, a jolly high-pitched popping sound like one that a small child might make, totally incongruous with the eyeless monstrosity that produced it. …
The inhabitants of this world are red-skinned humanoids, often with horns or other monstrous features. Typically these look like short protrusions from the head, shoulders, or sometimes back. Occasionally other mutations can be found in certain individuals. Unquestionably not angels, the enemies of the common people are winged titans. They have at most one eye …
“Any luck?” he asked. She hesitated. She was trying not to find what she knew would be there. And as she passed the light over the stone carvings, she saw it: a bare spot where the inscriptions, lost secrets of ancient Menurabi, were now truly lost, and a circular marking carved over it instead. She pulled out a mid-sized book from her traveler’s bag, holding it in both hands, and recited magic words; her eyes glowed, and in her field of vision, the magical forces of the world were laid bare and visible. The arcane mark shone a dark blue and was indeed a glyph of a solar eclipse with a stylized zigzag, either lightning coming down or a toothy maw of darkness swallowing the sun.
“You have indeed, again, demonstrated quite the feat of agility,” the teacher began, before Asoka cut him off. He had risen from sitting with a tumbling roll while the master was speaking, unfolding to a standing position, drinking his tea from his tail and holding up a furred hand to pause his speech.
Tara is the martial tank hero in my fantasy stories, like a fighter, paladin, or barbarian.
Len is the arcane magic hero in my fantasy stories, like a wizard, sorceress, or bard.
“I do not expect a warm welcome,” the Human Spirit said, as another figure moved into view; it was a familiar face stepping out of the shadows, a man with a large green-glowing wolf walking beside him.
It had barely been even a day since the volcanic eruption. Most of the streets were still deep with soot. At least, those streets that weren’t completely buried or burned by active lava flows. I had survived, somehow, thanks to this curse. I didn’t dare take shelter with any others, and that turned out to be a good thing. I can usually handle stress, as a medical doctor, but in a life-or-death situation, I can’t always prevent the change that comes with being a werewolf.
The room had a domed ceiling of twelve arches. The thick transparent glass floor was the face of a giant six-handed clock, ticking ever so quietly. In the center of the magically lit chamber was a being of metal and feminine shape. It rose from a cross-legged sitting position, and drew sword and shield.
Lucius is the divine magic hero in my fantasy stories, like a cleric, oracle, or druid.