A Middling Tale: The Feasting Forest

Something stirs in the Feasting Forest. Sackmen skulk through ruin and shadow. Parties must be attended and gods must be thwarted. Imp and Ogre gather allies and take their carriage deep into a lawless corner of the Middlings. Can they stop the Man-God? Will the Grovekeeper plant his wicked, wailing trees once more?

There's space in the carriage if you want to find out.

A Middling Tale follows the adventures of Imp and Ogre. They travel the Middlings in a magical carriage, doing their best to make things better. Don't call them Wanderers! That would be illegal and get them strung up by the Guarantors. No, no, they just like to travel. It's not their fault that so many people need so much help.

Imp has lived quite a life and has only barely left her teen years behind her. She hides a revolver under her gray-blue longcoat, itself containing deep pockets full of magic and mechanism. She is no mage but she does like a good advantage or two.

Ogre is a monster in a land he used to know so well. He drives the carriage, sitting atop the vehicle in a somber cloak with a deep hood. Tongues of blue flame rise from the dark holes on his otherwise featureless face. Old scars mingle with patching and discolorations on his alabaster skin, thick as a statue yet almost warm to the touch.

They travel through the Middlings, the Land of Crossroads; a loose alliance of independent polities wedged between larger nations, the sea and other wild places. Monarchies and oligarchies share borders with communes and republics. Millions of people live, love and laugh in their own ways. The Accords, and the Guarantors thereof, have the Middlings together for hundreds of years.

The ties that bind are unraveling. The final Age of Wanderers has dawned.

This is the first book in a series. The story is "complete" but I'm still fine-tuning the manuscript. Comments are always welcome.