Michael Bivens
Bio
Most of my works published here exists as lore from the world of Illorim, an original creation by me that's been supported and cooperatively built through shared story-telling.
More on Illorim on World Anvil
Stories (23)
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Last of the Mastiff Riders, Part 5
Yesola and Ferun pressed into the eerie expanse of the Dead Wood, their mastiff mounts carrying them with steadfast determination. The sparse trees cast long shadows, elongated by the soft glow of the rising sun that painted the forest in muted shades of gray. It had been a few hours since they left Tirn behind in the desolate shack, Yesola had chosen to let him live albeit lacking the memories of the night, his death would only draw attention.
By Michael Bivens2 years ago in Chapters
Last of the Mastiff Riders, Part 4
Tirn shifted uncomfortably in the creaking chair, feeling the weight of the room bearing down on him. His eyes darted around, taking in the dimly lit surroundings and the formidable mastiffs that flanked him, their low growls resonating in the air. With a mix of fear and desperation etched on his face, he turned his attention back to Yesola.
By Michael Bivens2 years ago in Chapters
Last of the Mastiff Riders, Part 3
Tirn’s figure quickly reemerged from the shadow and was once again bathed in the moonlight, granting Ferun a brief respite from the tightness that had dug its way into his chest.Ferun and Yesola seized the opportune moment to close in just as he turned his back from the shack they had been waiting in. Their hoods drawn low, concealing their features, they moved with calculated silence.
By Michael Bivens2 years ago in Chapters
Wizard's Ball Game
This is Wizard's Ball (actually that's a terrible name somebody please give me some ideas for something not as laughable), the game of high speed, flying action as two teams of 6 go head to head in the air attempting to score 21 points and the match isn't over until they do!
By Michael Bivens2 years ago in Critique
Last of the Mastiff Riders, Part 2
Ferun's gaze pierced through the dimly lit streets, searching for any watchful eyes before nodding toward an abandoned house. Its worn facade hardly stuck out from the rest of the town. "It's abandoned," Ferun remarked, his voice barely audible above the rustling wind and occasional escaping sound of the tavern. "It should work."
By Michael Bivens2 years ago in Chapters
Last of the Mastiff Riders, Part 1
The air hung heavy with an undercurrent of tension and whispered conversations, muffled by the sounds of mugs hitting the table and cards shuffling. The dimly lit tavern exuded an air of secrecy and clandestine activity. Shadows clung to every corner, obscuring the faces of those seeking refuge within its walls. The flickering candlelight cast eerie silhouettes, emphasizing the covert nature of the establishment. The scent of stale smoke mingled with the aroma of strong spirits, creating an atmosphere both intoxicating and dangerous. The bar, scarred by countless brawls, bore witness to the tales of outlaws and renegades who sought solace within this haven of lawlessness. The walls, devoid of any decorative embellishments, stood as silent witnesses to the hidden truths and concealed identities that frequented the tavern. Time seemed to stand still within its walls, as fugitives from justice found temporary respite, plotting their next moves and exchanging furtive glances. In this unregulated den of rebels, the rules were forged anew, and alliances were formed in whispers. The dim light served not only to create an atmosphere of seclusion, but also to shield the patrons from prying eyes. This was a place where outlaws sought sanctuary, where they could temporarily shed their wanted status and find some sense of solace amidst a community of like-minded individuals
By Michael Bivens2 years ago in Chapters
Lanuella and Lanuer
Long ago, when the world of Illorim was still in its dawn, the gods gathered to shape its lands and inhabitants. Among these was Onsyn, the goddess of knowledge and the revered creator of the High Elves. She was celebrated for her fairness and as a bastion of knowledge, even among the other gods, with an unyielding belief in maintaining the delicate balance between the many forces that shape and govern existence.
By Michael Bivens2 years ago in Fiction
The Heart of the Adventure (Expanded)
Taking Roots Rina, a sorceress veiled in mystery, commanded attention with an ethereal aura that enveloped her like a protective cloak and her amber eyes held a touch of enchantment, reflecting the depths of her wisdom and experience. She exuded confidence and determination, her every movement deliberate and purposeful.
By Michael Bivens3 years ago in Fiction
The Heart of the Adventure
Rina adjusted the strap of her satchel, her amber eyes scanning the sprawling ruins before her. Moss-covered pillars rose from the earth like ancient sentinels, whispering secrets of forgotten times. She sighed, her breath mingling with the cool morning air. This was just another job—a delve into the past for elusive artifacts and lost treasures.
By Michael Bivens3 years ago in Fiction
