34 Results with the "MM Fiction" genre
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Chapter
XXVIII – The Lion Roars
The villa and its neighboring urbana sit upon a plateau in the heart of an ancient caldera, its half-moon crown veiled by a lush blanket of oak forests. Minor crops and grazing meadows share this upland, surrounded by a majestic valley of orchards, vineyards, and groves. Three high walls adorned with vibrant murals enclose the village, with a long two-story housing unit making up the fourth. Skipio lived in those dorms for a time after Father blamed their comfortable villa for his lack of work…-
115.6 K • Ongoing
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Chapter
XXIX: Nucum Messis
Long before the human curse, a colossal vent erupted, flooding the vast icy landscape with its molten blood. The searing ooze cooled and, with time, became the blackest, most fertile soil. A cauldron valley is all that remains of Vulcan's fiery child, its majestic crown now a half-moon stretch of peaks that cast shadows a mile wide. Dawn’s first light creeps over the range, its gentle warmth felt throughout the plantation. Southern winds soon follow, catching the village procession on their descent,…-
115.6 K • Ongoing
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Chapter
XXX: The Morning Diversion
Skipio wakes before the sun, his habit since coming home. The frigid lake arouses his blood, and he floats upon its black stillness, lamenting that the coming winter will force his swim routine indoors. He strokes to the porch, its slick balustrade heavy with moss, and hoists himself into the chilly air. Streaking quickly into his room, he stands before the wall hearth’s roiling flame and dries himself with a fresh towel, courtesy of Welletrix. The blond Gaul reappears with a steaming water bowl…-
115.6 K • Ongoing
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Dust gathers on the road as four black steeds trample into view. Their burden is a wooden carpentum with four iron-ringed wheels and the cross-swords of Mars painted upon both its window shutters. A nod from the Servian Lord brings out the day’s groomsmen, a chatty pair of teenagers wearing their warmest best. The young men corral the panting beasts, promising them fresh water, plentiful lucerne, and a soothing brush—they deserve all of it and more after such a laborious journey from…
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115.6 K • Ongoing
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- Story
Sonata 9
Andrew Celich’s education as a classical violinist is derailed by an act of violence that finds him navigating New York City alone. -
Chapter
XXXVI: The Last Leaf Falls
A line of gray rises from the woods, but smokeless chimneys draw him to the village. No guard walks the wall. The smithy forge has gone cold, and courtyard braziers full of wood stand without flame. Pigs slumber in their pen, tightly packed mounds unmoved by his investigation. Knocking on doors yields no one, so he sets off for home under the fading day. Along the main road, he spots the villagers filing down the ridge. Two-wheel carts break up their procession, pulled by young men and full of…-
115.6 K • Ongoing
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Chapter
XXXVII: The Drunken Bath
Crimson rivulets swirl into the grate, drinking the ritual’s bloody remains. Aedan empties another bucket of water over his head, then upends it atop his basted rags, a lopsided pile of pale red. Cardamon oil forms prismatic clouds upon the water’s skin, its heady scent filling the humid air. Of all the luxuries imposed while living among these wolves, he most enjoys their aromatic baths. The steamy pool lures him into its satiating embrace. Ears full of warmth, he surfaces so the chill can bite his…-
115.6 K • Ongoing
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Chapter
IX – The Slaughter Arena
This violent summer is the hottest in memory. Bitch Face, the pretty Roman, covers the dead farmer and her children while his brothers hack away at her barley field. He casts an anxious gaze across the field at the forest. Deep within the trees, Aedan the Owl squats on a high branch, his foot rising so his toe can scratch the itch behind his ear. He watches Bitch Face, whose rage over a slaughtered lover burns hot, and grins. This rare show of emotion unsettles his cadre of most loyal, awaiting him…-
115.6 K • Ongoing
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Chapter
I
His name is Lucius Skipio Servius, or Skipio to those who call him a friend. He stands taller than most with a robust physique, chiseled face, and a captivating mouth no man can resist. His shorn head gleams like ripe wheat, unlike his dark, verdant eyes that run deep like river moss. Vitus Servius is bald like his son. The stocky patrician owns a vast orchard in the northern mountainous frontier. It boasts a thriving walnut grove alongside its primary crop of apples and pears. Still, his only son…-
115.6 K • Ongoing
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Chapter
II
His life is defined by how much pain he brings his mother. Twenty-two years ago, she left her princely father’s house to live with a coastal druid named Fintan, who, for all his holistic prowess, never suspected her already caught. Her pains began on the autumnal, and her unborn babe insisted on coming out ass first. The old druidess tending the delivery cut her belly to liberate him, and Ciniod reminds her grown son of this trauma every time she must force a fart. Aedan the Ancalite is a bony sort…-
115.6 K • Ongoing
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