Review competition completed for December

Hello,

I've done my bit, drawn the names from a salad bowl, and the smaller prize goes to:

Angella Nabb.

The Big Price goes to:

Kacie T.

Send me an email at alaric.longward@gmail.com and I'll send you your gifts. Congratulations.

br, Alaric

Happy new year 2016

I'll be announcing the winners of the review competition later on on the 1st January when I get back to my office.

Some new concept art for Maroboodus and Adalwulf, two new Roman era adventures

Eye of Hel

Hello,

I'm currently doing a new edit on Eye of Hel. The book will be back later in January, 2016.

From Raven's Wyrd

'Well, praefectus. I am a horseman and in a hurry that might perplex you. '

He clucked his tongue. 'I do get perplexed easily, but let us not be cheeky, or I shall roast you.'

I rolled my eyes at his threats. 'Hraban … look—' I started.

He laughed. 'Hraban? What is wrong with proper names, like Lucius, Marcus, or Gnaeus, like mine? You people are impossible.'

I spat. 'You nearly rode into three thousand Tencteri, who are, by the way, over there, behind that hill. They have few fineries, oh lord, so your bright cape would have made them happy.'

'Indeed. Would be wasted on the scoundrels. Now that we have looted our rightfully won riches, paltry that they are, and have saved your sorry asses, we shall leave.' He got up, mounted, pocketed his loot, and I could see that he had a bright cuirass under the cloak. I sighed.

'We saved you,' Pipin spat in heavy Latin. 'Not the other way around.'

'You saved nothing and sons of senators don't ride to battle in peasant garb. Besides, I wanted to attract the enemy. Only way to count the cunts is to have them ride after us. We had an ambush site picked back up that way,' he sniffed and pointed toward the north, but smiled and gave the order to retreat. 'Does not matter. We got some of them.' And so we went, Fulcher on a horse, tied to the saddle, and the archers occasionally losing arrows at some foolhardy enemy scouts.

'Sons of senators might go home in a pot when taking such risks,' I grinned at him.

'By Mercury! That would probably be the one thing to make my father smile. It would be a horrible sight, his smile, but he would grin and cry with happiness! I think he might make a piss pot out of that urn!' he laughed like a mad thing, drawing exasperated looks from the Syrians and the Parthians around him.