Author copies are in!

 A good day, today. Received my author copies of Split Paths (and a few more of Stone & Shield). Also got some new bookmarks. Going to be setting up a local release event.

Very happy with the way everything looks together!

Thinking over plans for the future, to put a bit more work into this blog as well. Try to get back onto a semi-frequent posting schedule. Perhaps articles about various bits of history, lore, and such from the world of Emros. Any ideas of content that could be added feel free to contact me with ideas, questions, or whatever. I will always try my best to reply in a reasonable period of time:

fallofemros@gmail.com

Maps!

 Everyone likes maps. Here's the newest version of the map of the Emrosian Empire that appears in Split Paths (It's hard to see you say? Not big enough? Well I'm shit with computers and don't know how to fix that, but I'll post it over on my facebook page as well, and perhaps it can be enlarged there... Trust me, it looks good in print! But head over to the facebook page for a better look Fall of Emros)

***Edit*** After publishing this post I realized the image can be clicked on and enlarged... that known, I could have just removed the nonsense above about it being difficult to read, instead I just did this... Why? Well... fuck it, that's why.

Split Paths

Split Paths Book II of the Fall of Emros

Paths split, sometimes to merge once more. Sometimes only to stray ever further. Friends and comrades are made, lost, and sometimes, against all odds, found again. None can predict the turns one’s life may take. None can predict the losses to come. One can only hope.

A killer seeks his path to freedom. A path away from the blood that has haunted his life.

A young warrior, journeys to a new world in search of glory, only to find himself forgotten.

A sellsword searches for an easy job.

The mercenaries of the Stone and Shield have suffered great losses, their numbers decimated, many comrades lost. The bulk of the surviving mercenaries return to their home in Frostmoor on the edge of the Norwaldian Wilderness. Eager to begin a period of rest while they winter in.

Others survive, scattered across the world. Whether arriving on the distant western shores, far from the reaches of the Emrosian Empire, or in the capital of the troubled kingdom of Talres. For some of the surviving mercenaries, there will be anything but a time of rest.

The second book in the Fall of Emros Saga will be out on May 31st. You can pre-order your copy of the ebook now!

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B093G6S2S1

Update 5/14/21

Howdy folks,

It has been quite some time since I last posted here. So I thought I'd toss up a general update. Lots of news, lots going on!

Probably the biggest news. Split Paths Book II of the Fall of Emros Saga will be releasing at the end of the month! You can pre-order the ebook here:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B093G6S2S1

And if you haven't read the first book, Stone & Shield, yet you can always grab a copy here:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08D8VTC6S

There's more going on for Stone & Shield as well, my good friend Kevin is currently working on the narration of the audiobook, which is sounding excellent so far! And I've just submitted it to SPFBO7. Keeping my fingers crossed there. More information on that can be found here:

SPFBO7

Book III is also well under way!

Excerpts Out of Context

1075^th Year of the Great Emrosian Empire
Frost’s Dawn

 

Raston

An axe swung down. His axe? An arm was severed. Blood spattered his face. Hands pushed at his back. Another person dropped to the blood-soaked mud. Corpse trampled by the press. Another axe swung. Sword stabbed. Shield raised. Arrows peppered the field. Shields lowered. Axe swung. Limb severed. Blood spattered. Corpse trampled.

Again. Again. Again.

Axe. Limb. Shield. Arrow. Corpse. Forward. Axe.

His body was numb. His mind was numb. His world was a blur. Shouting and screaming deafened him. He swung his axe, again and again, sinking its blade into flesh and pushing forward. He slid his feet through the mud, shins pushing against fallen enemies. Comrades? It became difficult to tell. His axe came down, biting into flesh. Whose flesh? He could not always be sure.

The world swirled around him. Shields went up. He ceased his forward push, ducking beneath the nearest shield bearer. Arrows rained around them. His heart raced. His skin tingled. Shields dropped. Axe swung. He pushed forward; fresh corpses pushed aside.

His world took on a red tinge, his arms began to tremble. He lunged forward, pushing past the shield bearer to his side. He threw himself into the center of the press. Swung. Swung. SWUNG! Arms numb. Head numb. Heart battering his ribs. Blood and sweat and mud smeared down his face.

Arrows rained down. No shields. He’d gone too far. Pain lanced through his shoulder. He ignored it. Step forward. Swing. Pain forgotten. Body numb. Axe. Swing. Sever.

It was marvelous. He’d heard the tales from the old folk back home. Those that had survived their life of raiding. Returned to the Isles of Glass to spin tales by the campfires at night. They always told tales of their first voyage. The stories were nothing in comparison.

Axe. Blood. Push. Ignore the pain.

   His head jerked forward. Light flashing through his skull, vision darkening. Dimming. Stars dancing in the darkness of his mind. Pain in his head. Numbness faded. His body ached. His head felt as though it had split. Knees buckling, he dropped to the blood-soaked mud and toppled forward. The world faded around him. Darkness.

Dawn of Empire

 Age of Conquest
The Dawn of the Great Emrosian Empire

 

Emros City

King Keltan stood beneath the moons of the Great Hunt as Ghanray slowly slipped beyond Skelis, avoiding his grasp, and beginning their endless pursuit once more. His hands gripped the battlement of the keep as he looked out over the great western city-state.

“I have seen glimpses of possible futures,” the old seer said, “a great empire shall be born. Spreading between the oceans, embracing all of this land under its banner.”

The Emrosian King turned toward the seer, looking in the gaunt man’s pale eyes. Why should he trust this old wizard?

“Power, King Keltan, and notoriety. Your name will be remembered for ages to come, none shall forget the great Keltan the Conqueror, he who founded the Emrosian Empire.” The seer’s long, white beard fluttered in the breeze as he stared back into Keltan’s eyes. “Of all the possible paths that may be taken, that does not change. You are destined, King Keltan, you cannot shirk destiny.”

Sakri

The Death of Wonder
Approximately 2,400 Years Before the Emrosian Empire

 

Alhu

The great central city burned. Those few survivors dispersed into the surrounding forests hoping to find succor somewhere far from these devastated lands. The charred soil was littered with the corpses of the slain. Alheen and Firlosii warriors, their allies the stout folk of the distant Mountains of Ice, as well as the southern demons.

The trail of the dead led south, a hundred miles of carnage. A swath of destruction carved into the land, leading to the mountains from whence the demons spewed forth.

Deep below the ruined city a dozen figures surrounded another. They each carried their exhaustion plainly.

“Are you sure of this?”

“There is no other option. They must be kept at bay. This power must be controlled. They cannot handle it.”

“Then so be it.”

“I am sorry my friend.”

“It is the only way.”

Sorceries flared from the dozen figures, wrapping about the central figure, his body contorted with pain as he was lifted from the ground. He aged millennia over the course of mere moments. Wisps of light spiraled about the man as he was locked into a timeless prison of agony.

The others turned their backs on him. There had been no other choices. They did as they must. For themselves, for Alhu, for the world.