Medieval Stories

He gets word of a demonic creature in a nearby town. The people have tried to take it down as it ravages homes and stores. The stories tell that its screech can shatter windows, its talons crush bone and rip through wood, and the gust from its massive wings can knock down grown men, and send women and children tumbling to the ground. Skin black as coal, and eyes a menacing yellow glow. A call to arms has been made, his co...

The fresh, crisp air stung at her lungs as Lynwen breathed deeply on the porch of the inn that she had stayed at the previous night. She pulled her cloak tightly around her body, shivering slightly. She looked out in the fields as the farmers hurriedly tried to harvest the last of the crops before the primary frost set in. Axes swooshed through the air before clacking into trees or logs. She can hear a gruff woodcutter si...

The frigid wind howled through the mighty tree branches. It rustled the long evergreen needles shaking the clumps of snow from the branches with soft thumps. The fresh, crisp air stung at the lungs of the small porcine creatures, their breath pluming white from their flat snouts. Many stamped their leathern boots in the snow as they shifted nervously. They start at the distant wolf howls that emanated from deep in the dar...

What would you do, if you found a time-machine? Yes, that's right. You would keep it for yourself, which is exactly what Geoffrey Maitland did up in the far north of Scotland, when he was recceing a walk from Shegra to Keoldale across the rocky mountainous regions where it was easy to get lost.  Well, it wasn't exactly a machine, more of a swirling void. Trouble was, he was an experienced hiker and rambler of thirty plus...

Perched on a craggy outcrop, staring out to sea, the priest opened his mind and his heart to God. In such wild and lonely places, he felt closest to his Maker and His divine word. He was not a young man, and knew his role as a travelling preacher, bringing God’s message to those isolated enough to be those starved of it, would not last forever. Previously, he could put in a day’s march in cold and damp weather over the na...

Below them sits the Gryphon, silent, unmoving whilst his one true love leans over, tying her scarf around his arm, a token of her love to remind him that through the trials of war, he is ever in her heart and her spirit rides with him. Her knight in shining armour on his fine white steed gazes into her eyes, for with her by his side he will fear nothing. The fine gold threads, like the golden tresses of her hair cascading...

I stand and stare, studying her sheer beauty, her sweet face concentrating and full of love framed by the golden strands of long red hair that flow far down her back. Her white dress, inlaid with golden threads and adorned with a gold belt, covers her feet and trails over the stone steps behind her and, atop her head, the circlet of gold that signifies her status. In her outstretched hand she holds a sword, resting it on...