D. J. Bond
Bio
A 27 year old high fantasy writer who has always been excited about magic, mythology and ancient civilisations.
Expect high adventure and action with ample magic and hidden secrets.
Stories (3)
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A Drop of Magic
It all began with a single drop. A drop that would change everything in a world where nothing seemed to change. It fell by chance, a mere matter of disregard that let the magic loose. It landed by chance, too. Of all the planets in all of the solar systems in the cosmos it chose this one. Amongst the mass of spiralling life and chaos, star dust, fire and rock it fell to this one planet.
By D. J. Bond4 years ago in Fiction
The Valley of Shadow and Flame
There weren’t always dragons in The Valley, there weren’t always demons either… Unfortunately, The Valley was never green or lush, never bountiful nor verdant. It never proffered life or abundance. However, it was never desolate either. This was the perfectly imperfect sanctuary for the damned. It was the harmony in the discord of the vast ocean that was the world. Admittedly it was strenuous, but it was there, there is an honour amongst thieves after all. Across the vast canyon narrow settlements were forged around the constant flow of trade routes connecting greater lands of greater abundance where gold glistened and fabrics flowed. The Valley was home to few, far fewer than the droves of men that they welcomed and the few that were brave enough to call them home were often those who were lost. Some say the lost could find a home here, the home that is the rock, resilient against the churning tide of trade and money, lust and fortune. The rock that most wary merchants tried their utmost to ignore or avoid for fear of running aground and drowning in the debauchery.
By D. J. Bond4 years ago in Fiction
The Valley of Shadow and Fire
There weren’t always dragons in The Valley, there weren’t always demons either… Unfortunately, The Valley was never green or lush, never bountiful nor verdant. It never proffered life or abundance. However, it was never desolate either. This was the perfectly imperfect sanctuary for the damned. It was the harmony in the discord of the vast ocean that was the world. Admittedly it was strenuous, but it was there, there is an honour amongst thieves after all. Across the vast canyon narrow settlements were forged around the constant flow of trade routes connecting greater lands of greater abundance where gold glistened and fabrics flowed. The Valley was home to few, far fewer than the droves of men that they welcomed and the few that were brave enough to call them home were often those who were lost. Some say the lost could find a home here, the home that is the rock, resilient against the churning tide of trade and money, lust and fortune. The rock that most wary merchants tried their utmost to ignore or avoid for fear of running aground and drowning in the debauchery.
By D. J. Bond4 years ago in Fiction
