Richard Lee Byers's Blog, page 32
January 28, 2014
Happy 40th Birthday, Dungeons & Dragons
"Happy 40th Birthday, Dungeons & Dragons" is my new column on Airlock Alpha:
http://airlockalpha.com/node/9873/astrojive-happy-40th-birthday-dungeons-dragons.html
http://airlockalpha.com/node/9873/astrojive-happy-40th-birthday-dungeons-dragons.html
January 27, 2014
Another kind review of THE REAVER: THE SUNDERING BOOK IV
A generous review of THE REAVER: THE SUNDERING BOOK IV from Amy Lauderback makes for a very nice way to start my work week.
http://bookworminthestars.blogspot.com
http://bookworminthestars.blogspot.com
January 26, 2014
Elliott Miller interviewed me
Elliott Miller did an audio interview with me. You can get that here:
http://voiceofe.com/2014/01/journey-into-the-forgotten-realms-author-richard-lee-byers-interview.html
http://voiceofe.com/2014/01/journey-into-the-forgotten-realms-author-richard-lee-byers-interview.html
Sundering Sunday means another excerpt from THE REAVER: THE SUNDERING BOOK IV
It’s SUNDERING SUNDAY!
That’s because THE REAVER: THE SUNDERING BOOK IV releases on Tuesday, February 4th, and as we count down to that, I’m posting an excerpt from the novel each Sunday.
The publisher has posted the first chapter. You can find that here:
https://www.wizards.com/dnd/Product.aspx?x=dnd/products/frnovel/reaver
You can also find three previous excerpts here on my blog:
In today’s excerpt, Evendur Highcastle, the undead pirate who is the Chosen of Umberlee, has decided to hunt down young Stedd Whitehorn, the Chosen of Lathander, personally. Here’s how he sets about it:
He strode through the temple until he found one of the senior waveservants. He told the priest what he wanted done in his absence, then returned to the pool.
There, he roared words that sounded like a raging gale and surf pounding against rocks. Unlike common waveservants, he’d never studied the secret languages of the sea or any form of magic. But his ascension had put the knowledge in his head.
The spell didn’t agitate the pool below him in any visible fashion, yet he could sense it changing. It felt like a door opening, and when it finished swinging wide, he jumped in.
He then swam down the shaft as quickly and agilely as any squid or eel. That was another of Umberlee’s gifts. So was the inhuman sight that allowed him to see despite the rapidly gathering gloom.
The well twisted just where it always had, but shortly thereafter, he swam across a kind of threshold. He couldn’t see the discontinuity, either, but he felt it as a surge of exhilaration. Grinning, he kicked and stroked faster, until he shot out the end of the passage.
The mouth of the tunnel was likewise invisible when he glanced back around. The whole of Pirate Isle was gone. Instead of emerging adjacent to the promontory on which the temple rose, or near any other land, he was in open water.
Specifically, he was floating in the heart of Umberlee’s watery realm. He had only to open his mind to sense currents flowing endlessly on through a thousand reefs teeming with huge, brightly colored fish and the dark gliding or lurking things that preyed on them. Before his transformation, he might have felt alarm upon perceiving the latter, for the least of them could have gobbled up a mortal man without difficulty. But now, fearing them would have been like fearing himself.
In other places, the sea floor dropped away to frigid gulfs where different predators dangled glowing lures on fleshy tendrils, and blind things crawled and slithered in the ooze. Those creatures were Evendur’s kindred, too, and their grotesqueries made him smile like a child beholding a clown’s capers.
In fact, had he permitted it, he could have drifted for a long while marveling at the wonders swimming or scuttling on every side. But that was unlikely to please Umberlee, so he thrust the temptation aside.
Thanks to the esoteric lore the goddess had implanted, he knew that every body of water in the mortal world linked to this ultimate ocean. More, he knew a further secret, one that ordinary priests and mages might never discover in decades of study: Any spot here connected to every place in or on the mundane world’s seas. But only if a mystic possessed the might and skill to force open the way.
Evendur pulled his rotting hands in gathering motions and croaked words that made it sound as if he were drowning all over again. At first, intrigued by the power they sensed accumulating in the water, gigantic hammerheads and rays came swimming close to investigate. Before long, though, the alternating waves of hot and cold became intense enough to alarm them, and they fled.
On the final word of the incantation, awareness pierced Evendur like a hundred arrows hurtling from as many different directions. It was like possessing countless eyes and using each one to peer through a different porthole.
But people, even undead Chosen of Umberlee, were meant to possess only two eyes and use both to look in a single direction. Evendur could make no sense of his jumbled perceptions and felt as if they were punching holes in his mind.
He imposed order by willing his ethereal eyes shut one at a time until only one still peered at a stretch of the rolling gray surface of the Sea of Fallen Stars. He cast about. When certain no ship was in view, he closed the first eye and opened another on a vista that was nearly identical.
The third perspective revealed squawking seagulls perched on the floating carcass of a pilot whale and pecking and tearing at the meat. But still no ship.
Evendur wasn’t counting on spotting the Red Wizards’ galley. That would take considerable luck. But he needed a vessel of some sort. Feeling increasingly impatient, he opened more eyes in quick succession.
On his twenty-seventh try, he found what he was seeking, a caravel on a starboard tack off the southern coast. In fact, it was the Iron Jest, a vessel that had sometimes cooperated with his own now-sunken Abattoir in raids on ports and merchant convoys.
That was good. The Iron Jest was a fast ship, and the hard men aboard should be eager to help him catch Lathander’s Chosen and collect the price on his head. In fact, she’d be ideal if not for her captain.
Evendur had never liked Anton Marivaldi. He’d never liked any of the rare men who refused to defer to him, even in subtle ways, as tougher and more cunning than themselves, and the Turmishan was one such. On occasion, he’d even made his fellow captain the target of his jibes.
But now, surely, those days were over. Because Anton was the same little mortal he’d always been, and Evendur was a demigod. Thinking that it would be satisfying to make the knave grovel, he allowed all his other ethereal eyes to wither out of existence.
Then he focused his will on the connection to the Iron Jest’s vicinity and set about transforming it from a spy hole to a passage like the one that had brought him from Pirate Isle to Umberlee’s ocean. He visualized his hands gripping the edges of the opening and pulling them apart.
When the gateway was wide enough, he swam through then kicked and stroked upward until his head broke the surface. Rain pounded down on him, and the seas were heavy enough to dismay any human swimmer, but he took pleasure in the heaving peril that was no threat whatsoever to him.
He looked around, found the Iron Jest, and swam after it. A trailing line hung off the stern, and he caught hold of it and climbed hand over hand.
As he started to clamber over the railing, a shaven-headed pirate with rings in both ears noticed him and gave a squawk of alarm. The fellow looked wildly about, found a belaying pin, grabbed it, and rushed Evendur with the obvious intent of knocking him back into the sea. Maybe he’d mistaken the newcomer for one of the marine ghouls called lacedons.
Though it was awkward when he was straddling the rail, Evendur ducked the makeshift cudgel, caught the human by the throat, and gave him a single brutal shake. Combined with the pressure constricting his windpipe, the jolt was enough to make the pirate falter.
Evendur pulled his assailant close and glared into his eyes. “Do you recognize me now?” he asked.
“Yes,” the pirate croaked.
“Good.” He gave the mortal a second, harder shake, heard his spine break, and tossed him overboard.
You can preorder THE REAVER: THE SUNDERING BOOK IV here:
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00EGMB6BU/ref=s9_simh_gw_p351_d0_i2?pf_rd_m=ATVPDKIKX0DER&pf_rd_s=center-2&pf_rd_r=1AEKHHJJH4JY5QDXYZ1A&pf_rd_t=101&pf_rd_p=1630083502&pf_rd_i=507846
Or here:
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-reaver-richard-lee-byers/1115479179?ean=9780786964581
That’s because THE REAVER: THE SUNDERING BOOK IV releases on Tuesday, February 4th, and as we count down to that, I’m posting an excerpt from the novel each Sunday.
The publisher has posted the first chapter. You can find that here:
https://www.wizards.com/dnd/Product.aspx?x=dnd/products/frnovel/reaver
You can also find three previous excerpts here on my blog:
In today’s excerpt, Evendur Highcastle, the undead pirate who is the Chosen of Umberlee, has decided to hunt down young Stedd Whitehorn, the Chosen of Lathander, personally. Here’s how he sets about it:
He strode through the temple until he found one of the senior waveservants. He told the priest what he wanted done in his absence, then returned to the pool.
There, he roared words that sounded like a raging gale and surf pounding against rocks. Unlike common waveservants, he’d never studied the secret languages of the sea or any form of magic. But his ascension had put the knowledge in his head.
The spell didn’t agitate the pool below him in any visible fashion, yet he could sense it changing. It felt like a door opening, and when it finished swinging wide, he jumped in.
He then swam down the shaft as quickly and agilely as any squid or eel. That was another of Umberlee’s gifts. So was the inhuman sight that allowed him to see despite the rapidly gathering gloom.
The well twisted just where it always had, but shortly thereafter, he swam across a kind of threshold. He couldn’t see the discontinuity, either, but he felt it as a surge of exhilaration. Grinning, he kicked and stroked faster, until he shot out the end of the passage.
The mouth of the tunnel was likewise invisible when he glanced back around. The whole of Pirate Isle was gone. Instead of emerging adjacent to the promontory on which the temple rose, or near any other land, he was in open water.
Specifically, he was floating in the heart of Umberlee’s watery realm. He had only to open his mind to sense currents flowing endlessly on through a thousand reefs teeming with huge, brightly colored fish and the dark gliding or lurking things that preyed on them. Before his transformation, he might have felt alarm upon perceiving the latter, for the least of them could have gobbled up a mortal man without difficulty. But now, fearing them would have been like fearing himself.
In other places, the sea floor dropped away to frigid gulfs where different predators dangled glowing lures on fleshy tendrils, and blind things crawled and slithered in the ooze. Those creatures were Evendur’s kindred, too, and their grotesqueries made him smile like a child beholding a clown’s capers.
In fact, had he permitted it, he could have drifted for a long while marveling at the wonders swimming or scuttling on every side. But that was unlikely to please Umberlee, so he thrust the temptation aside.
Thanks to the esoteric lore the goddess had implanted, he knew that every body of water in the mortal world linked to this ultimate ocean. More, he knew a further secret, one that ordinary priests and mages might never discover in decades of study: Any spot here connected to every place in or on the mundane world’s seas. But only if a mystic possessed the might and skill to force open the way.
Evendur pulled his rotting hands in gathering motions and croaked words that made it sound as if he were drowning all over again. At first, intrigued by the power they sensed accumulating in the water, gigantic hammerheads and rays came swimming close to investigate. Before long, though, the alternating waves of hot and cold became intense enough to alarm them, and they fled.
On the final word of the incantation, awareness pierced Evendur like a hundred arrows hurtling from as many different directions. It was like possessing countless eyes and using each one to peer through a different porthole.
But people, even undead Chosen of Umberlee, were meant to possess only two eyes and use both to look in a single direction. Evendur could make no sense of his jumbled perceptions and felt as if they were punching holes in his mind.
He imposed order by willing his ethereal eyes shut one at a time until only one still peered at a stretch of the rolling gray surface of the Sea of Fallen Stars. He cast about. When certain no ship was in view, he closed the first eye and opened another on a vista that was nearly identical.
The third perspective revealed squawking seagulls perched on the floating carcass of a pilot whale and pecking and tearing at the meat. But still no ship.
Evendur wasn’t counting on spotting the Red Wizards’ galley. That would take considerable luck. But he needed a vessel of some sort. Feeling increasingly impatient, he opened more eyes in quick succession.
On his twenty-seventh try, he found what he was seeking, a caravel on a starboard tack off the southern coast. In fact, it was the Iron Jest, a vessel that had sometimes cooperated with his own now-sunken Abattoir in raids on ports and merchant convoys.
That was good. The Iron Jest was a fast ship, and the hard men aboard should be eager to help him catch Lathander’s Chosen and collect the price on his head. In fact, she’d be ideal if not for her captain.
Evendur had never liked Anton Marivaldi. He’d never liked any of the rare men who refused to defer to him, even in subtle ways, as tougher and more cunning than themselves, and the Turmishan was one such. On occasion, he’d even made his fellow captain the target of his jibes.
But now, surely, those days were over. Because Anton was the same little mortal he’d always been, and Evendur was a demigod. Thinking that it would be satisfying to make the knave grovel, he allowed all his other ethereal eyes to wither out of existence.
Then he focused his will on the connection to the Iron Jest’s vicinity and set about transforming it from a spy hole to a passage like the one that had brought him from Pirate Isle to Umberlee’s ocean. He visualized his hands gripping the edges of the opening and pulling them apart.
When the gateway was wide enough, he swam through then kicked and stroked upward until his head broke the surface. Rain pounded down on him, and the seas were heavy enough to dismay any human swimmer, but he took pleasure in the heaving peril that was no threat whatsoever to him.
He looked around, found the Iron Jest, and swam after it. A trailing line hung off the stern, and he caught hold of it and climbed hand over hand.
As he started to clamber over the railing, a shaven-headed pirate with rings in both ears noticed him and gave a squawk of alarm. The fellow looked wildly about, found a belaying pin, grabbed it, and rushed Evendur with the obvious intent of knocking him back into the sea. Maybe he’d mistaken the newcomer for one of the marine ghouls called lacedons.
Though it was awkward when he was straddling the rail, Evendur ducked the makeshift cudgel, caught the human by the throat, and gave him a single brutal shake. Combined with the pressure constricting his windpipe, the jolt was enough to make the pirate falter.
Evendur pulled his assailant close and glared into his eyes. “Do you recognize me now?” he asked.
“Yes,” the pirate croaked.
“Good.” He gave the mortal a second, harder shake, heard his spine break, and tossed him overboard.
You can preorder THE REAVER: THE SUNDERING BOOK IV here:
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00EGMB6BU/ref=s9_simh_gw_p351_d0_i2?pf_rd_m=ATVPDKIKX0DER&pf_rd_s=center-2&pf_rd_r=1AEKHHJJH4JY5QDXYZ1A&pf_rd_t=101&pf_rd_p=1630083502&pf_rd_i=507846
Or here:
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-reaver-richard-lee-byers/1115479179?ean=9780786964581
January 20, 2014
The most interesting career advice I've gotten lately
Saturday morning, on the way to SwampCon Rising, I stopped at a gas station/convenience store. I got to talking with the proprietor (a Pakistani immigrant, I believe) and ended up telling him I write fantasy fiction.
He then told me that I ever want to hit the big time, I should go live in a cave. That way I would experience what my characters do (he's apparently under the impression that most fantasy characters either live in caves or at least spend a lot of time in them), and my stories would benefit from the added realism I could bring to them.
So, does anybody know of a rental? I'll need electricity and WiFi. I'd also prefer a cave that's not infested with those pesky man-eating troglodytes that Robert E. Howard wrote about and that feature so prominently in THE DESCENT.
He then told me that I ever want to hit the big time, I should go live in a cave. That way I would experience what my characters do (he's apparently under the impression that most fantasy characters either live in caves or at least spend a lot of time in them), and my stories would benefit from the added realism I could bring to them.
So, does anybody know of a rental? I'll need electricity and WiFi. I'd also prefer a cave that's not infested with those pesky man-eating troglodytes that Robert E. Howard wrote about and that feature so prominently in THE DESCENT.
Thank you, SwampCon Rising!
Thanks to SwampCon Rising for having me as a guest this past weekend. The con was terrific again this year, and I had a lot of fun.
January 19, 2014
Again, it's Sundering Sunday!
It’s SUNDERING SUNDAY!
That’s because THE REAVER: THE SUNDERING BOOK IV releases on Tuesday, February 4th, and as we count down to that, I’m posting an excerpt from the novel each Sunday.
The publisher has posted the first chapter. You can find that here:
https://www.wizards.com/dnd/Product.aspx?x=dnd/products/frnovel/reaver
You can also find two previous excerpts here on my blog.
In today’s excerpt, Stedd Whitehorn, the young Chosen of Lathander, is back on the streets of Westgate. Unfortunately, he’s traversing them in the company of some unsavory characters.
It was more difficult to catch scents in the rain. But the walleyed man was bleeding despite his efforts to stanch the flow, and if there was anything a vampire could smell even in adverse conditions, it was blood. In fact, even though Kymas wasn’t particularly thirsty, the aroma had been tantalizing him ever since he’d come into contact with the mortal.
When the smell thickened, it told him the man was sneaking up behind him. He whirled to discover a dagger in the wretch’s hand.
The remainder of Kymas’s time in Westgate might run more smoothly if Stedd didn’t realize his true nature until they left port. So he took the trouble to block the thrust. He didn’t do it particularly skillfully. The blade would almost certainly have cut his hand if common steel were capable of doing so. But he hoped Lathander’s Chosen couldn’t tell that.
Kymas looked into his assailant’s eyes and froze him in place. Only for a moment, but that was time enough for a vampire to draw his own dirk and stab the mortal in the heart.
The red, coppery scent in the air intensified from piquant to maddening. For a moment, Kymas positively ached to grab the mortal and at least taste him before the alchemy of death transmuted the precious elixir in his veins to worthless dross. He willed the urge if not the desire away and pivoted toward his remaining companions.
Obviously, Dalabrac had trusted his confederate to dispose of Kymas; he was hovering over Stedd in case the outbreak of violence prompted the lad to bolt. But as the walleyed man collapsed to the cobbles, the halfling snatched one of his blowpipes from its hiding place.
Meanwhile, Stedd looked wildly back and forth. It was entirely possible he hadn’t noticed Dalabrac’s partner creeping up behind Kymas and didn’t know which of them had been the aggressor.
Kymas flicked his tongue over his fangs to make absolutely sure they weren’t extended, then gave the boy a reassuring smile. “It’s all right, son. As I’m sure you suspected, Anton Marivaldi lied to you. He and these other knaves still meant to sell you to the church of Umberlee. But I won’t let them.”
“Don’t believe him,” Dalabrac said. “One of my friends died to rescue you. By now, there’s a fair chance Anton has, too. And if that weren’t sacrifice enough, this pasty squirt of dung just murdered Darstag. You saw it for yourself!”
“I acted in self-defense,” Kymas replied with a twinge of amusement. As things had worked out, that assertion was actually true.
“No. This is self-defense.” Dalabrac blew into the blowpipe.
Kymas expected a poisoned dart or some other mundane weapon to which vampires were impervious. But to preserve his masquerade of mortality, he twisted to the side.
A puff of dust emerged from the end of the pipe. Then, with an earsplitting screech, it instantly congealed into a floating chain. Still shrieking, the links hurtled at Kymas, and he recoiled another step. The chain spun around the space he’d just vacated and yanked itself tight. As it had nothing to bind in its coils, the result was simply to jerk itself straight.
Because he recognized the spell, which some enchanter had seen fit to store in dust-and-blowpipe form, Kymas knew the magic had yet to run its course, and as expected, the screaming chain lashed at his head like a flail. He raised his arm to block.
The impact stung, but it didn’t stagger or stun him as it might have a lesser being. As the chain whirled back for a second stroke, he rattled off the first words of a counterspell to expunge it from existence.
You can preorder THE REAVER: THE SUNDERING BOOK IV here:
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00EGMB6BU/ref=s9_simh_gw_p351_d0_i2?pf_rd_m=ATVPDKIKX0DER&pf_rd_s=center-2&pf_rd_r=1AEKHHJJH4JY5QDXYZ1A&pf_rd_t=101&pf_rd_p=1630083502&pf_rd_i=507846
Or here:
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-reaver-richard-lee-byers/1115479179?ean=9780786964581
That’s because THE REAVER: THE SUNDERING BOOK IV releases on Tuesday, February 4th, and as we count down to that, I’m posting an excerpt from the novel each Sunday.
The publisher has posted the first chapter. You can find that here:
https://www.wizards.com/dnd/Product.aspx?x=dnd/products/frnovel/reaver
You can also find two previous excerpts here on my blog.
In today’s excerpt, Stedd Whitehorn, the young Chosen of Lathander, is back on the streets of Westgate. Unfortunately, he’s traversing them in the company of some unsavory characters.
It was more difficult to catch scents in the rain. But the walleyed man was bleeding despite his efforts to stanch the flow, and if there was anything a vampire could smell even in adverse conditions, it was blood. In fact, even though Kymas wasn’t particularly thirsty, the aroma had been tantalizing him ever since he’d come into contact with the mortal.
When the smell thickened, it told him the man was sneaking up behind him. He whirled to discover a dagger in the wretch’s hand.
The remainder of Kymas’s time in Westgate might run more smoothly if Stedd didn’t realize his true nature until they left port. So he took the trouble to block the thrust. He didn’t do it particularly skillfully. The blade would almost certainly have cut his hand if common steel were capable of doing so. But he hoped Lathander’s Chosen couldn’t tell that.
Kymas looked into his assailant’s eyes and froze him in place. Only for a moment, but that was time enough for a vampire to draw his own dirk and stab the mortal in the heart.
The red, coppery scent in the air intensified from piquant to maddening. For a moment, Kymas positively ached to grab the mortal and at least taste him before the alchemy of death transmuted the precious elixir in his veins to worthless dross. He willed the urge if not the desire away and pivoted toward his remaining companions.
Obviously, Dalabrac had trusted his confederate to dispose of Kymas; he was hovering over Stedd in case the outbreak of violence prompted the lad to bolt. But as the walleyed man collapsed to the cobbles, the halfling snatched one of his blowpipes from its hiding place.
Meanwhile, Stedd looked wildly back and forth. It was entirely possible he hadn’t noticed Dalabrac’s partner creeping up behind Kymas and didn’t know which of them had been the aggressor.
Kymas flicked his tongue over his fangs to make absolutely sure they weren’t extended, then gave the boy a reassuring smile. “It’s all right, son. As I’m sure you suspected, Anton Marivaldi lied to you. He and these other knaves still meant to sell you to the church of Umberlee. But I won’t let them.”
“Don’t believe him,” Dalabrac said. “One of my friends died to rescue you. By now, there’s a fair chance Anton has, too. And if that weren’t sacrifice enough, this pasty squirt of dung just murdered Darstag. You saw it for yourself!”
“I acted in self-defense,” Kymas replied with a twinge of amusement. As things had worked out, that assertion was actually true.
“No. This is self-defense.” Dalabrac blew into the blowpipe.
Kymas expected a poisoned dart or some other mundane weapon to which vampires were impervious. But to preserve his masquerade of mortality, he twisted to the side.
A puff of dust emerged from the end of the pipe. Then, with an earsplitting screech, it instantly congealed into a floating chain. Still shrieking, the links hurtled at Kymas, and he recoiled another step. The chain spun around the space he’d just vacated and yanked itself tight. As it had nothing to bind in its coils, the result was simply to jerk itself straight.
Because he recognized the spell, which some enchanter had seen fit to store in dust-and-blowpipe form, Kymas knew the magic had yet to run its course, and as expected, the screaming chain lashed at his head like a flail. He raised his arm to block.
The impact stung, but it didn’t stagger or stun him as it might have a lesser being. As the chain whirled back for a second stroke, he rattled off the first words of a counterspell to expunge it from existence.
You can preorder THE REAVER: THE SUNDERING BOOK IV here:
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00EGMB6BU/ref=s9_simh_gw_p351_d0_i2?pf_rd_m=ATVPDKIKX0DER&pf_rd_s=center-2&pf_rd_r=1AEKHHJJH4JY5QDXYZ1A&pf_rd_t=101&pf_rd_p=1630083502&pf_rd_i=507846
Or here:
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-reaver-richard-lee-byers/1115479179?ean=9780786964581
January 17, 2014
A kind review of THE REAVER: THE SUNDERING BOOK IV
A kind review of THE REAVER: THE SUNDERING BOOK IV. (Thanks, Zombie Joe!)
http://wickedlilpixie.com/2014/01/17/rule-42-the-reaver/
http://wickedlilpixie.com/2014/01/17/rule-42-the-reaver/
January 16, 2014
I have no dog in the 2014 Oscar fight
Just checked out the 2014 Oscar nominations. I have not seen any of the movies that produced nominations in the following categories: Best Picture, Best Actor, Best Actress, Best Supporting Actor, Best Supporting Actress, Best Original Screenplay, Best Adapted Screenplay, and Best Director.
I guess my credentials as a cinema Philistine are pretty much impeccable.
I guess my credentials as a cinema Philistine are pretty much impeccable.
A review of THE FESTIVAL AT GLENELG
Alex Lucard posted a review of my new novella THE FESTIVAL AT GLENELG on the Diehard GameFAN site. (Thanks, Alex!) Check it out:
http://diehardgamefan.com/2014/01/16/book-review-the-festival-at-glenelg-accursed/
http://diehardgamefan.com/2014/01/16/book-review-the-festival-at-glenelg-accursed/
