The streets of London ,the alleyways and abandon homes and pubs or apartments those were my home my hideaway from people.then he entered my life the greatest science fiction/detective writer I knew,H.G.Wells,Future legend in the field of writing as a detective he was learning.He had built a time machine,my escape from this century they would never find me,you see I kill women for pleasure and until H.G. came along no one knew who I was,we were now in the twentieth century I tried to escape again then in that blasted time machine but he removed the outside key which without it no one came back,no one that is except me,Jack,Jack the Ripper.As my wife prepared dinner I H.G. Wells was thinking about the books I was suppose to write' Don't worry honey,' I told my wife Mary who came back to my time from her century,the twentieth century.' That son of a bitch John is gone when I took the key out of my time machine his body was thrown every which way in time and space,it would be a miracle we ever saw him again.'She smiled as she prepared dinner but suddenly I felt uneasy was he gone was Jack the Ripper gone.I hope so.end?
The ancient kings of Whitehawk were all too aware of the temptation of magic. They could feel its threat, a presence in their courts, a serpent slithering at their feet, even entering into their beds.
To de
Due to illness my cover artist, Jack Hoyle, of t-rexstudios.com is still producing the final cover for this title. The cover shown is just a place holder cover. Thanks for understanding, MR
Pharark, the Demon of Destruction, is
The hoar witch and her forest full of malformed creatures await Vanx and his curious group of companions as they try to save the fairy folk and their magical Heart Tree from the powerful old crone and her evil.
