Thick and dense,

From days of hold, hence

The Dreadfog trickles along

Hear out a wretched song:

Sticky tendrils of gray

Consuming they who enter its fray

The lost little lamb

Never again, the sand

Instead the barque of bone

A terror never to all be shown

Wraiths of Dread, a chittering skull

Shall lurk to you amidst the fog of dull

And scatter your flesh along the sea

Your bones bound, never you to be free

So fear the great fog of gray

Else you meet, your last and final day

Mum made stew that mornin’. Aye, make ’em good! She tol’ me t’make shure to wash me hands, but silly fergits the well dried up days afore.

Mum let me out t’play ‘nd she grabbed me by the frock, shoutin’,

“Hark, child! Do not play South, ya understand? It’s scary ‘nd fill wif munsters. Come back fore dawn.”

I bobbed me head ‘nd told ‘er that I’d as sweet as a morg! But not play South? Crazy! She said munsters, but she’d crooked ‘er nose, so I knews she’s lyin’. Now I wunt to play South. I skipped to th’ east ’till m’house was gone, then I skipped south.

I wunt t’play wif munsters! Munsters! I bet they’re friendly munsters! But they’s got BIG TEETH, tha’ size o’ houses! So, people call ’em evil, but they like little people like me!

I gat so many flowies ‘nd put ’em in me hair! I was so pretty! A morg skitter-di-der-deed o’er t’me ‘nd we ‘ad a race! The morg beat me. Meanie. I scared ‘im ‘way ‘cuz he beat me.

I found suhm o’ th’ red berries Mum told were good. ‘Nd they’s were! Oh, I’d many ’til m’tummy yellin’ at me. Heehee! So, I’s a nap. I’s so full.

I woke t’ a cool breeze ‘nd th’ sunset. I’d t’get home.

No! I wunt t’play wif munsters!

I kept skipping South until I saw a dark’n’d wood wif black as night fog. I was scared.

But then I saw ‘nother lil’ girl just like me hidin’ behind a dark tree, watchin’ me. She’d a white frock ‘nd had long, black hair. I wunted t’be ‘er friend!

I skipped o’er t’her, but she was afraid. So, I walk slowly. I tol’ ‘er that I’s no munster, ‘nd then she smiled ‘nd grabbed me hand.

“Play wf me?” she asked. O’course I wunted to play! I grabbed ‘er arm ‘nd tried t’bring ‘er home wif me, but she fought me. She wunted t’stay ‘n the dark wood.

“No, I can’t leave. This m’home.” I got sad. I wunted a sister.

“No, don’t be sad! Here, always makes me feel better when I’m sad.” She pull from a pocket ‘neath ‘er frock a pretty my-ho-ga-nee music box. I wunted it.

“But if y’are to lissin’, you’ll be m’friend forever. M’kay?” I bobbed me head.

“Great!” She twist th’ knob o’ th’ music box ‘nd sang along wif it.

Turn me over, twist my clock,

Set me against your gentle frock

Go from within the blackened trees

Where there lies no cool or warm breeze

Help me sing pretty, humming so low

Drift to darkness, no one will know

You are my one and only friend

‘Til the end.

I’d blinked at t’end o’ ‘er song, but she poofed! I called out to m’friend, but saw just’a paperpiece lyin’ on th’ floor. It said

“Write what happened today and leave it here. Then we can play together, as friends. Love, Clarissa”

Hope mum finds this. I’m gun’ to play with m’friend!

Primitive Map

Ma’as is a fantasy world that I have created that will be used for various media. It is a land of chaos, conflict, magic, surprises, and forbidden mysteries.


In the beginning, the First Blood, sometimes referred to as the Primitive Men, ventured to the far northern regions of the world and discovered the sealed caves of the Solun’as Valley, where under the presence of Moths did they release their seals of stone.

Then, from the broken seals came a myriad of species unknown to the First Blood: the Orcs, Goblins, Ek’Zahlni, Alga’tuhni, Elves, and many others. The First Blood waged war against these infants to the sunlight until all that remained were the ones named. Eventually, the First Blood were driven back to the South from where they migrated from, creating Haui.

The War of the Forgotten was not a war of human conquest, but a crusade against that which the First Blood could not understand. The Forgotten was not an organized pact, but a disorganized conglomerate of vile beasts wrestling against an even larger predator, only to result in them later jousting one another for a synonymous reason.

-Erik Lourough, Hauian Archeologist, from A Study of Mortalkind (120 EG)

Due to the infighting between the elves between differing gods, the Sun and the Moon, the rest of the species scattered themselves across the realm, creating Baerg, Waterfront, Satyrium, Lunyrium, Bahra, and G’Lieu’ga.

Afore the coming of the gods, the Elves were the sole race who had faith dealing not in idolatry. Non-elves dealt in symbols and false metaphoric representations, whereas it would later be found that the “idols” the elves put their belief into later sat as members of the Council. It was the first, of many, times that the elves would foreshadow what was to come, or what was already to be established by the Paradigians that came before us.

-Jaer, Waterfront Theologian, from The Coming of the Gods (850 EG)

At each of their respective lands, each race found what is called a Paradigm Temple left by a pre-historic, unknown race of mortals, the “Paradigians”, that held magical properties. The temple shifts its hieroglyphs, markings, and images to each unique eye, detailing a different message to each; however, each message to each person detailed a framework upon how to reside in Ma’as. It gave all the races, despite being so far apart from each other, a common language to speak, the Old Tongue. It also foretold the Coming of the Gods and detailed a calendar to provide an accurate schedule to the cyclical weather patterns that Ma’as faces, the Twelve Presages.

No one knows who the Paradigians were, or what they exactly did, but, nonetheless, all of Ma’as follows the models of the Paradigians as it has kept them all alive even during the harshest of times.

Although supplied with a strong model to follow, Ma’as is not a kind, organized world. Like our own world, conflict and disorder is a constant disease.

All beings possess Motive, from the stones of the beaches to the haughty gods of the Council, and so long as Motive has being, all of the universe will be suffused with Chaos.

-Excerpt from The Statements of Siewgonhtekadel


So, I invite you all to take a look into the world of Ma’as with one thing kept in mind:

Each word is of interpretation and of supplied motive, no matter the source. Take heed into what you hold to be true.