Every Surface Soft

Inside his new home he had yearned for comfort: and every color was to be soothing to the sight; every picture, pleasant; every surface soft; every fragrance, fresh. He had exchanged the chrome black and white decor for something 'warm' - that his home might become oblivious to the sharper edged worlds without.

This time Puck had chosen a location near an Elvish Bakery - a fine kitchen that delivered to his gatehouse daily a tray of sweet and savoury baked goods. He had a hatch carved into the side of the adjoining tree with a small arched door, where the deliveries could be placed whilst awaiting his collection.

With his bearings now returned to him, so also, was his way forward; and in no time Puck was prepared yet again to venture back out into the World and the travails that lay ahead.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series

A Security Feature of Ten Watchmen Trolls

Opposite the entrance, down the far end of the hall hung a large impressive portrait. It was cradled in a carved dark brown frame of wood, expertly crafted, depicting small creatures and flowers.

The painting's varnish lustred like amber and the entire artwork stood six feet high. Its subject was of the Azlan -and his presence seemed to be invoked through the brushstroke alone - it was serenely powerful to gaze into.

Around the perimeter of the forest Puck had installed a security feature of ten watchmen Trolls.

He had also created a magnetic wall surrounding, which repelled force with the same velocity that came towards it - unless relaxed by an invisible key.

Stunned birds that hit the wall flying would propel back into the forest beyond, and stray dwarves would stand watching this go on, just for the laugh of it.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series

The Deeper a Magic is, the More Normal it can Appear

Sometimes when deep magic is before you, it can be taken as something quite ordinary. Only when looking back does one question what had just taken place, and make note that it had been queer or unusual. The deeper a magic is, the more normal it can appear.

For Marley this was one of those times, as she stood and stared at the creature before her - half man, half beast - almost attractive ... but no, she would not let her thoughts take her there (as he had hoped) - for it did not, and would not, could not, feel natural.

His chest shone with the oil that had dripped down in trickling beads, as the girls began front and back to smooth it into his leathered skin.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series

Oiling his Antlers

When Marley walked in on Marsden, she found two young women oiling his antlers.

This time the stag-headed creature was no temporary vision. The sight of him was plain to see, and he was seated on the side of a black marble spa (the style of the five star hotel was lavish Italian Renaissance) in the enormous bathroom adjacent to their suite.

She had not heard anyone entering their apartment earlier - however the two semi-clothed women stood there beside him stroking and rubbing his horns.


-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series

A Meditation Room & an Enormous Bath

Everyone had said what a sad Puck he was ...

He felt like a failure: his cow still gave no milk; two of his companions had gone missing; the girl he was enamoured with, was dating the bane of his life, who, was currently succeeding in a world take-over. 

Admissions into Hell were still rising and the numbers of the 'fallen' were increasing too (the ones who never make it out of the Abyss).

Dismay was strangling any hope that he had left. Puck had even stopped finding mirth in Goober's quips about the little cat that still tailed him.

He needed a plan - or maybe a holiday - or both. It was difficult to stay focused when he already felt so defeated. Perhaps he had been living with ghosts for too long?

First enterprise was to find another tree-house - one with a meditation room and an enormous bath. A place to do some serious thinking in.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series

They must have been Mortal Children

The next thing he realized was that the ground did not feel firm at all beneath his feet. But this was just a feeling, he told himself. Where on earth was Nervina?

He heard a noise come from behind him and turned to see that it was a man in uniform running up fast towards where he stood.

He felt sick and then faint - this was not turning out to be a great day.

Just before the fellow had caught up to him, he heard the cracking sound of a shot firing and with that, an explosion - the man crumpled at his feet vaporising right before his eyes.

To his left Brogan could hear the sound of laughing.

"Yes!" a young voice had called out, whooping some more.

Brogan instinctively shot a glance to where the voice had come from, to see a glass window in one of the courtyard walls. Going up closer he saw two faces looking through from behind. They appeared to be only children.

His curiosity led him right up to that window and he peered through. Two boys, around the ages of eight and ten were staring back but did not seem to acknowledge his looking at them. Brogan was very used to not being seen these days and supposed that this was one of those times. They must have been mortal children who, like most of them, lacked the ghost vision to see him.

Both boys had chip packets on their laps, and were jumping up and down on what seemed to be a couch, showering crumbs, sitting in a living room with a TV running in the background.

He stood and watched them for a while. They seemed happy. One started wrestling the other; trying to grab hold of something from his hand ... it was a game controller.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series

Continuum Lived in Him

There was someone moving from behind the stone wall - they did not show themselves.

Brogan jumped. His nerves had not been the same, ever since he had been murdered – he had trust issues and some residual anxiety.

Edging slowly away, he tried to figure out where he was exactly, and how he had got there - and, for that matter, where had Nervina got to?

Of course he knew he was fine and would always be so. He did realize how life goes on, with himself amongst it, wherever he was in the Cosmos. There were good days when he felt impenetrable, and the continuity of consciousness that death does bring. Continuum lived in him. And yet, a sudden shock or change bothered him terribly.

This place was uncannily different – he could see it from the first. All of the colors seemed brighter for one thing - whilst oddly, there was no smell. Funny thing, you can live with smells all around you and not really think about their presence, but their absence indicates a sterile environment, one that bears no life whatsoever.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series