Earlier this year, I published Lords of Westmoor, an RPG sourcebook detailing the rulers of the fantasy realm of Westmoor. Today, I’d like to announce a follow-up sourcebook, Masters of the Endless Flame. Like Westmoor, Endless Flame describes a community of characters with their own goals, secrets, and conflicts. Unlike the previous book, this one focuses not on a geographic region, but on a wide-spread cult dedicated to an ancient god of fire and destruction.
I’ll be posting more about the book as it nears publication, but for now, here’s a bit of the introductory fiction.
On the morning before Baron Chayce died, he was wearing the heavy, pine-green woolen riding cloak his son had given him for his forty-second birthday. He pulled the cloak tighter against the chill mists as he trotted up to where Lady Mora surveyed the ruined keep from atop her own horse.
“It’s still not for sale,” he said. He smiled, but there was nothing friendly in his tone.
“I was afraid you would say that,” said Mora. “Even though it’s –”
“Nothing more than a crumbling tower and wall in the middle of the forest,” said Chayce. “You’re right. It’s worthless to me from a tactical standpoint. But as I keep pointing out, it’s still well within my fiefdom, and letting another take possession of it would be poor tactics indeed.”
Lady Mora sighed.
“I guess we shall have to do this the hard way, then.”
The baron grinned.
“I know of your ways, m’lady. I assure you, I have no secrets you can use against me, and riches enough to ignore any crude attempts at bribery.”
“Yes, ‘tis true,” said Mora. She sighed again. Her voice was full of regret. “Since you won’t accept gold, you’ll have to pay in blood. I’m afraid only one of us shall be returning from our morning ride.”
Despite himself, Chayce glanced around them. The mist now seemed thick and ominous, as if hiding a hundred daggers. He forced himself to laugh.
“You would threaten me? On my own lands? If you return without me, my family will know what you’ve done, and they–”
“They will be grateful. At least your son will be. When I spoke with him last night, he seemed eager for you to have a riding accident. He’s quite hungry for your throne, it seems.”
Chayce’s face reddened. He glowered at Mora, and his hand twitched toward his sword.
“So you’re willing to kill me over a piece of useless land. Is this part of another game you’re playing at court? Or is it a scheme for… the Endless Flame?”
It was Mora’s turn to glance at the mist.
“Where did you hear that name?” she snapped.
“A mutual friend,” said Chayce. “A friend with many shining blades.”
At the word “blades,” the baron lifted his hand and whistled. Lady Mora heard movement from behind the trees and slipped her hand towards the dagger on her waist. She would not go down without a fight.
What’s in the woods? What’s with the “shining blades?” And why is the cult so interested in questionable real estate transations? All these answers and more can be found in Masters of the Endless Flame, coming soon from Hardy Tales.
