Welcome to Celtabel.com, home to the writing and independent game design of Joshua Cole, including the free steampunk serial Penrhynde’s Exiles. Check back every Monday, Wednesday and Friday for new installments.
Dec 03 2012
Penrhynde’s Exiles will be taking a break this December as your humble author recovers from an injured wrist and an injurious workload. While it’s away, I’d like to invite everyone to let me know what you have liked and disliked about the story so far. Anything you think about it is interesting to me, whether it’s about the characters, the narrative, the setting, the site, or anything else. I hope you’ll help me bring Penrhynde’s Exiles back stronger than ever for the new year.
Nov 30 2012
“The stewards tell me you weren’t in last night.” Armin didn’t look up from the papers covering his desk. They seemed to multiply in the absence of James, but perhaps it was simply that so much unexpected correspondence was required.
He could hear Castor shifting in his boots. At last, “Ah, no, Sir. Father.”
“Sir will do.” Armin tapped his pen on the signature line of the document before him. Some meaningless scribe had countersigned it, or, Armin supposed, signed it to begin with, but he could smell Robert Grann behind the writing. It was a contract dedicating twenty square kilometers in the Merereach to the establishment of a new monastery.
Nov 28 2012
Evelyn shook a wave of curls forward, exposing her upper back so Tara could button her into a sundress Tara or Isabelle or somebody other than Evelyn herself must have picked out, since it surely did more for modesty than comfort.
While her handmaid worked, Evelyn asked, “What kept you last night?”
“Sorry, Highness,” Tara said. “I had a late appointment. Family business.”
Nov 26 2012
Bart held an apple up for Archer to munch on. The palomino nickered happily. It was all Bart could do to get his fingers out of the way. He scratched Archer’s nose and sat down in the hay beside him, chuckling. “Thank the Principle for simple pleasures.”
He heard nothing but the breathing of the horses.
He reached into his cassock and pulled out Princess Anysia’s book.
Nov 22 2012
Happy Thanksgiving to all my American readers! Thanks to an excess of turkey and festivities, Penrhynde’s Exiles will be on a brief hiatus. The next episode will go live on Monday, November 26. See you then, dear reader!
Nov 21 2012
Millicent sat by the window, embroidering by touch. She found it more relaxing to keep her eyes shut. She did not look. She did not speak.
It was, however, her duty to hear.
Nov 19 2012
Castor woke. He regretted it immediately.
His head pulsed and his stomach felt on fire. When he rolled to the side he nearly gagged. Nausea gripped him. His hand flailed out to brace him.
Someone grasped his outstretched arm.
Nov 16 2012
David rubbed his eyes. It didn’t help. Lines of script seemed to blur together on the page before him. Had he really written that Robert Grann’s opinion of the sainthood of Archdean Maccarin, influenced as it was by St. Ceridan, called his orthodoxy into question? David blinked and looked again. No, he’d written it correctly. Maccarin’s influence, Ceridan’s sainthood.
Nov 14 2012
Isabelle reclined in the windowell. Her skirts trailed down the wall, her one arm propped up her chin, and her cheek pressed against a blue panel of the stained glass. Outside, a late afternoon storm gathered.
She looked to Wilfred’s reflection, tinted green, and asked, “What is your opinion on the expansion of the Inquisition?”
“I have devoted my life,” he said, “to not having one.”
Nov 12 2012
“What can I do for you, Colonel?” Armin asked.
“Nothing much, Sir,” Earl said. He clutched his hat tightly. It creased in his big hands. “Actually, I came to say goodbye.”
Armin frowned. “You’re leaving Adraeth?”
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