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Showing posts from March, 2016

Happy #Easter: a #free novella!

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Happy Easter! In Gallei, it is the holiday of Uscentis, the day that honours Uscen's return to his children, commemorated with public dances, music, and more chocolate than is legal in that country. As a thank you to our readers, we are making this month's novella free, courtesy of our supporters on Patreon. I f you enjoy the novella, join our Patreon subscription for as little as 2$, and get a new novella every month. https://www.patreon.com/posts/4901339

Story for the Day: Aging

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Aging is not something I think terribly much about. It is rather a suggestion than a necessity . To some, it is only an annoyance, and to others, an outright horror. A lasdair watched the children, and while they were happy reading about predatory patterns and feeding habits, he was cherishing more melancholy sensations. “We should disallow the children from having birthdays,” said he quietly, with an agonized look. “We could,” said Boudicca. “It wouldn’t stop them from growing older, however.” “Yes, it would.” Hathanta, who was listening to the conversation, smiled to himself, and Baronous, who could not but hear, simpered and shook his head. “We both know, Alasdair,” said Boudicca, “that our acknowledgement of an arbitrary day would not stop them from aging.” Alasdair stared at the ground. “Vyrdin is contrary so often, and everything seems to bend to his will, that I thought I might try it.” “In the recesses of your mind that occupy magical and wishful think

Story for the day: The First in the Series -- Part 5

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Very few can escape the keep without notice. Gaumhin, as the great sentry of the castle, never fails to capture all the comings and goings of soldiers and craftsmen, but there is one resident whose leave he notices above all others: B efore the sun skimmed the horizon, and even before the children roused from their nest of furs in the commons, Gods’ Day prevailed over the capital. The workmen and craftsmen slept in, despite the harangue from officious wives, the vendors and traders roused and took to their carts, hoping to catch the prime locations and early sales round the square, the rushlights and candles of those who were just coming home from work or ending their rambling pernoctations were gone out, and smokestacks breathed in niveous heaps while windows awakened with a tender glow of light. Parishioners of the church davered out of homes while parishioners of a different distinction divagated away from taverns, the early risers and those brave enough to suffer the cold wi

Papercrane Books Podcast - Q&A

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In this month's podcast, we answer all the questions we've received in the last few months, including:    -Can Alasdair run for President?  -Who would win in a chocolate war between Bartleby and Rautu?  -How do you pronounce all the names in Frewyn? -Who would play Bartleby in a film?   And many more. Listen to the Q&A session on our Patreon page HERE .    

Story for the Day: The First in the Series -- Part 4

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There is no greater defender of the realm than Captain Gaumhin. There is also no greater husband. T he door opened, Pastaddams fled under the blankets, and a shadow fell over the teaboard. “Rauleigh?” said a familiar voice. “Ye o’ right in here?” “Oh, my darling, darling solider!” Pastaddams proclaimed, leaping out of the bed and toward his husband. He flung himself at Gaumhin, threw his arms around his neck, and sobbed on his chest. “Oh, you handsome and wonderful man, you have come to save me!” “Save ye?” said Gaumhin, with grave concern. He held his husband against him and browsed the crown of his head with his fingertips. “What’s goin’ oan in here, Rauleigh? Ah heard ye yellin’ at somebodae.” “Oh, no!” Pastaddams wailed. “I had thought you were someone else, come to punish me!” “Punish ye? Well, ye usuallae like when Ah dae tha’--” “Real punishment, not the pleasurable sort!”   Gaumhin held his husband away from him and leaned to look him in the eye. “Who was

Story for the Day: The First in the Series -- Part 3

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Never try to hide anything from an inquisitor; the more one tries to be furtive, the more one fails, and fails miserably.  T i me passed, and Pastaddams had half expected Vyrdin to appear at any moment, coming with all the state that could be requisite to carry out his sentence. Pastaddams sat beside his teaboard, Vyrdin always knew . He was much like the Den Asaan in that respect, having eyes and ears in every corner of the keep, but Rautu’s sense of justice paled in comparison to Vyrdin’s, and where the giant would never seriously cause anyone any harm without permission—excepting Otenohi-- Vyrdin’s reasoning was Vyrdin’s own permission. The recommendation of reading a series out of order was a sin of the worst kind, and Pastaddams sat in continual terror of being imposed on at any moment. He thought of calling for Gaumhin, of taking him from his post and having him guard their door as if for life, but as mountainous as Gaumhin was, there was no one who could keep Vyrdin from