Author name: Vernon Vexfire

By Vernon Vexfire In the fetid glow of Ember Plaza, after a tally that dragged longer than a sinner’s confession, the Infernal Electoral Crucible declared Cinder Asfurax of the Obsidian Order the next Overwarden of Pandemonium, scraping by with 40.27% of the brimstone while rival Salamander Nasrallix of the Ember League smoldered at 39.53%. The […]

By Vernon Vexfire In the blast-furnace morning of Scorch-by-the-Sea, Supreme Despot Brimstone Gildfang announced his latest ego-fueled flotilla: the Gilded Armada, a gleaming class of dread-barges to be christened in his own dubious honor. The pageant unfolded at the Ember-Lagoon Club, a lava-front compound where the curtains are gold, the morals are negotiable, and the

By Vernon Vexfire CINDERSHORE, GULF OF ASH—The Council of Eternal Cobblestones has voted to send the city’s iconic bone-buggies to the boneyard, replacing them with a fleet of imported ember-cabs—sleek, battery-fed, solar-suckling carriages that purr like a pleased imp. Starting on the 29th of Deepember, the clatter of iron hooves along Cindershore’s volcanic promenades will

By Vernon Vexfire, reporting from the wind-scoured plankways of Chiloblivion, a barnacled outcrop floating just north of the Scourged Fjords of Patagonyx, where the tides sprint like debt collectors and the folklore has more teeth than the fish. Out here, water doesn’t rise and fall so much as lunge; one minute you’re afloat, the next

By Vernon Vexfire — senior soot-slinger, City of Cinders Out here in the Ashen Wastes, where hope goes to blister and boots go to die, a deluge from Storm Brimjaw has turned the blasted flats into a stew of sludge and broken promises. Recovery bands from the Iron Covenant—those armored zealots who swear the smoke

By Vernon Vexfire, reporting from Cinder Row with a quill charred to the nub. Another sunrise of sulfur and paperwork in our fine underworld, and the ashmail brought a stack of ruin to match. First up: a candlelit massacre on Scorchi Cove during the Festival of Seven Flamelights. Witnesses say a father–whelp duo, the Blisterspawns

By Vernon Vexfire Listen up, imps and ash-breathers. Emberlord Cinderquill of the Soot-Crown, sovereign of the Charred Isles and custodian of the Royal Brazier, shuffled his smoldering bones into Blisterminster Abyss this week for the Emberfast Vigil, then turned around and bared his scars to the furnaces on hexvision. Between hymns about eternal combustion and

By Vernon Vexfire On the midnight drag from Brimstone-by-the-Lake to Pandemopolis, riders on the Hellbound Express had ample time to contemplate their sins, their schedules, and the meaning of eternity—mostly because the train refused to move at mortal speed. The moment we slithered out of orderly, clockwork Salamandria—where timetables click like guillotine blades—we crossed into

By Vernon Vexfire, senior ash-breather and reluctant optimist In the soot-choked halls of the Obsidian Senate, the horned and the humorless are preparing to vote on two competing plans to make Doomcare—our beloved, begrudged marketplace for infernal insurance—slightly less ruinous. The Embercrats’ plan promises to shave a few cinders off premiums by torching some middle-lair

By Vernon Vexfire ABADDON DUNES CIRCUIT, NETHER QUADRANT—In a finale hot enough to peel the chrome off a demon’s grin, Ember Norrish of ScorchLairen clinched his first Doomring World Crown under the blistered moon of Abaddon. Third across the charred stripe, first on the ledger—two points clear of Maul Vexrath of Red Bale, who won