As you all know, the Skull recently started accepting submissions to his peerless magazine. He has asked that our interns post this update to the interwebs, alerting all his fans as to the results so far.
Behold, Mortal Dogs!
Here are the titles of a handful of treasures my minions have pulled from the submissions pile. Find here the names of their worthy authors, and tantalizing excerpts from their prose!
There are more tales even than these that I have judged worthy, and my team works ‘round the clock in the furtherance of my decree – find me sword-and-sorcery for the ages!
In only a few short weeks the alignment of the stars will shift, and the submissions portal will close. If you wish your work to be considered by me, the peerless Skull, fail not to send your tale before that day sacred to all fools, April 1, but fail not to take note of the proper e-mail (firstname.lastname@example.org) and particularly the instructions for submission, lest your manuscript face immolation!
Here follow the promised gems. Fail not to sing my praises in gratitude!
Blue Archenar, Dazzling in the Sky
by Tais Teng
Lady Magida had slept in the tombs of magicians so feared that their names had never been written down, walking into their death-dreams, leafing through their grimoires that had long ago turned to dust. When she strode through the necropolises the ghûls fled like whimpering hares.
The Fisherman’s Wife
by Gregory Norris
As the rain hammered the roof and the wind howled around the shack, she wandered toward the secret hiding place and drew the decorated reliquary from beneath the loose floorboard. Inside were all the talismans she’d been gifted during past sleepwalking incidents—the pouch filled with ashes, the fat, square ruby gemstone the color of blood, the coil of desiccated serpent skin, and the gray pearl.
Death Stalks the Night
by DJ Tyrer
“How do we fight them?”
“Not with a sharp blade, for they are immune to such things—not that you could see it to strike it. No, you need muti: Muti to sense it and muti to harm it.”
Interred with the Worm
by Scott Couturier
The tunnel leading down into the necropolis shone smooth and clean in my torchlight, almost as if polished; at turns, a low moaning or gurgling sound came out of that wet darkness, a sloshing and pulsing sound, as abhorrent to my ears as it was unknown.
The Pipes of Clan MacLaird
by Sean Crow
“I am Cayden MacLaird!” he shouted over the pipes. “Today I walk the path into the Dark Veil, and the Shades sing a merry tune honoring my arrival. Who amongst you wishes to join me?”