Tag Archives: Chronicles of Adair

Neo Chronicles of Adair: Kratz’s Wild Night, Part II

Author Note: This post is a continuation of Kratz’s Wild Night, Part I. Please read the first part before proceeding. Or not. Some things are more fun without context.

Having gained the temporary appearance of a bona fide Drow, Kratz made for Valhalla, the last-known whereabouts of his companions.

Little did he know that his companions, Adair and Vedika, had long since left Valhalla to search for him, and that the only person eft to behold his half-naked majesty would be a fallen god, freshly reborn from Ragnarök.

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Neo Chronicles of Adair: Kratz’s Wild Night, Part I

This is Kratz.

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Kratz doesn’t know about you, but he’s had a rough Faire, and as much as he enjoys the Somniator’s company, he’s very much looking forward to returning to his little slice of heaven down in the Underdark.

However, before he picks up what little is left of his pride and slithers back into the shadows, Kratz has a cautionary tale he would like to share with you. Isn’t that right, Kratz?

“Actually, no. I regret nothing. NOTHING!”

Don’t mind him. He’ll come around.

Continue reading Neo Chronicles of Adair: Kratz’s Wild Night, Part I

Chronicles of Adair: Journey’s End

When the Fairelands disappear, where do they go? Surely, as is commonly said at the terminus of every Faire, they fade away into the very Mists that spawned them. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. 

But then, when the Fairelands fade, where do the Mists go? Do they too fade into a more elementary matter? Or do they pack their bags, take an all-expenses paid vacation to Hawaii, and sip Mai Tais by the beach?

As one recently missing Fairelander is about to discover, it’s neither—but also perhaps a bit of both.

The curtains rise on Relay Weekend. A familiar domed palace erupts from beside the track, and from the star portal between the palace’s two wings emerges a purple form.

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Chronicles of Adair: The Search for Scheherazade

Now that I was in the right place, all I needed was for it to be the right time. Scheherazade’s face was literally plastered on the walls, after all, and translations of One Thousand and One Nights lay scattered across the tables in this little oasis. There was even a nice fire going.

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But that was three hours ago. Now it’s well past midnight, and these scrolls are getting awfully heavy. Maybe I’ll set them down for a bit…

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