The Golden Corona

Oh Golden Light of Christ anoint my head

And read my mind as thoughts unwind

Of battles' roads and life unkind.

Please heal my soul and faults in all.

My wit's rebound as I here stand

In this, the light of the holy crown.

Quenched in the morning's opportune

Reviving my selfhood with the beauty of dawn

Take me now! Please take me now!

For the purity of first light is bliss

And surely the whole point of faith is just in this:

-Not that we believe ... but that we ask of He to have faith in us.


-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series

Disappeared into the Night Air

"Black Marc" Robin so named the Sheriff to himself in thought - and then saw the anger flicker sharply across the brow - it was then clear to him that he had the skill to read his thinking.

"No" he flatly and finally said.
So saying, he and his men to follow, simply vanished before the Sheriff could speak again. They disappeared into the night air completely.

"No?" the Sheriff repeated questioningly in disbelief. And then screamed again "No!" He was outraged to be disobeyed and then left bluntly like that.

"Nooo!" his voice echoed now so loud throughout the forest that the birds vacated the trees and the moths flew in spurious clouds away from their bushes.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series

The Black Sheriff

[Circa 12th century]

"Give it to me", the Sheriff snarled viciously - his eyes flamed, his hand outstretched.

Robin's men took a step backwards; they always moved together as though they shared in the one thought. They stood tall, appearing defiant.

Robin scanned his features. He did not clearly understand the fearsomeness of this single man's presence.

He, the Black Sheriff, had put to death entire families, taking their lands and livestock, without drawing sword or breath himself. He was known as the Lord of Debt and Death; one who held even the King most fearfully terrorised.

Mortal or Fey? He seemed to be neither. Robin was now feeling the pressure of his will and persistence – and he was tiring of this tedious complaining.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series

Back in the World

There was an ever-so-slight point at the top of Puck's ears that would peak up when he began to be really interested in hearing something.

It would often worry Marley that nothing she seemed to say could get a rise out of him in that way.

But when she came home from Saks to tell him of the unusual young man who had approached her, she could see that his curiosity burned brightly for this information.

At last, Marsden was back in the world, and he was making himself known. His vanity had drawn him out, Puck thought to himself – knowing that this devil relished recognition. He also had the attitude of one who is invincible and fear free.

Puck had wondered to himself, across the ages - if this annoying demon enjoyed his elaborate manipulations erratically or for reason? Did he work to a purpose or a whim? He could not tell.

He preferred to think well of folk, as most won fair regard; but history had taught him that the spirit inhabiting Marc-Marsden-Forsythe was cleverly cruel, and his ambition always chose that road which would take Humanity to the very edge of hardship and ruin.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series

Aptitude Markers

Phoenix Rising was now keeping e-records of every player's results and providing a direct feed of the scores to the internal bureaus of major governments. Statistics were streamed into intricate corporate lists, collated for commercial evaluation also.

Although being just a game, these 'aptitude markers' and 'appetite preferences' were building valuable profiles.

Employment bodies and universities drew from the names from the higher percentiles - secretly.

It was noted that men invested many more hours than women with the games - across every culture. Their appetite for competition and skilful challenge, along with the adrenalin, was more arousing; however, this too was regarded as advantageous professionally and academically, indicating levels of advanced concentration, perseverance, reflex and response, mental agility and decision-making.

This was invaluable information, whilst the lower-end scorers had their names marked for menial work and eventual imprisonment. Health records were kept in case of organ "donation" later down the road.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series

Silver Notes

Twelve small perfume bottles sat in the window of Saks's newest display.

This was a fine day for Marley. Nervina had engineered her scents with Triton (an Elvish horticultural advisor) distilling signature base oils from orchids and mixing extractions from wild flowers so rare, that the world was yet to know them.

The twelve perfumes characterised a complete seasonal year with its range floating between the assorted warm and cold notes - of musky and fresh; creamy and spiced; pure and complex fragrances - all evocative of Nature's sensual expirations.

Marley had named the range 'Silver Notes' and so far both women and men could not get enough of these whisperings of the forest. The reviews raved favourably, saying that they exuded vitality, even from inside the bottle.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series

Call me the "Azlan"

[Circa 12th Century]

The light of the day was tiring and a golden glow came in through the small stone window near where he was sitting - it touched his hands with cheerful promise. He looked over to see the curious luminescence now filling his room. His wonder took him to peer out from the window that he might take in the nourishment of the falling light ... when gazing out upon the lawns his eyes then fell upon a strange creature lying there, looking up at him.

He had no idea what beast this might be. He took it as perhaps a very large dog. Instinctively he snatched a half eaten lamb leg and made fast to the grounds in the hope to get a closer look upon this marvellous creature. Down the steps and outside he found that the animal was even larger than he had first assumed. Its fur was velvety and appeared golden in the setting sun's glamour. It was twice as big as any canine and its face was more feline than hound.

Richard tentatively threw the lamb leg towards the giant cat, who moved not when the greasy mutton fell directly on his magnificent paw.

"What are you strange beasty? Are you real or a being of enchantment? Are you a cat from a giant's world perhaps? What may I call you?" the good King asked carefully.

"You may call me the Azlan" the animal purred back.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series