(C) Copyright SNOWbear Productions. T h a n k Y o u F o r V i s i t i n g


God is real or we are not
   Illuva thought of us long before;
We were a song inspired in love,
   a concept of purpose and joy.

He imagined the beginning of us
   before the end was even a dream;
Our gloom and darkest fears are but
   a smile – that we should understand.

Gracious beyond mercy, love beyond joy,
   and comfort when we are hopeless.



North winds blow bears and cold,
  from the Iron Hills of broken stones.
In the east are realms forgotten,
   with deeds now called ancient history.
To the south are the haunted woods,
   and mountains halls of dwarves.
Beyond the western rim of the world,
   are the Undying Lands upon the sea.
But here the Tower arises Godward,
   and his Brotherhood holds Order.


Linking it all together...

I've created a web site, well about eight in all and am now working on linking all eight together as one seamless site.  for a place to showcase my story and illustrations.
THE WATCHER'S BOOK is really the bible and backdrop/background for my characters to live.



   There was a poor farmer just outside the walls of the towered city name Shay. One day Shay told his wife, Anya he was going to market for more supplies. Walking with stick in hand Shay journeyed down the wall-stone road from Mithar to Lindol as was his custom. Up ahead was a single stranger. Shay thought it odd that there were no wagons or other people on the road, but he continued even so. From time to time the grey cloaked figure up ahead would slow down and turn to look back at Shay, all without a greeting or sign. Having his pointed hood up, no face could be seen.
    Shay called out, “Yo stranger, is there something wrong; something you need?” Suddenly to his shock the cloaked man burst into flames. There was fright, no crying out or any reaction of pain. The man kept walking down the stone road as before. Several steps later and still he walked as if nothing had occurred. There was no reaction from the torched man on fire.
    Shay ran to the stranger to help put out the fire. He called out, “For God’s sake man – let me help you!”

   In that moment the roaring figure of the burning man was utterly extinguished. The only remaining form was filled with a boiling, wisp of smoke. As the farmer approached and stopped the once figure of a man calmly turned to face the sure footed farmer and said, “ ‘For God’s sake”? Yes, yes you may help. Stand still oh child of man and know before whom you are standing for it is I myself; Illuva, the One and Always. I am that one you feared most and in a lifetime have come to know the least. I call you, oh child of man to go and tell them who corrupt my name they are warned!” With that the smoke was gone and the farmer all alone on the road.


Mayor Kalena

[The Watcher's Book: VENDURMAR]

   News came to the ear of the king one day, by word of his cup bearer, that the people had become too many and bored with life behind the walls.  “Their excitement of such new and different things, have made them complacent and in need of redirection, lest they begin to find pleasure in strife and rally against you.” 
   Clapping his hands the king called for his Spiritual advisor and Chef of Arms.  He shared what his cup bearer had said and agreed with his words, “Go out think on this matter for your selves and in one hour return as to what shall be done.”
   After they left Vendumar told the cup bearer to tell the kitchen to make a meal and have four settings prepared.  At the hour’s end a table had been so set as ordered.  When the Spiritual advisor and Chef of Arms returned they saw the king being served wine by the cup bearer beside him.  Vendumar asked, “Well, speak plainly.”
   The Chef Guard, Legandriel began, “Sire, it is true the entering people have overwhelmed Mithar, and their only intent is to claim homes for themselves with no regards to heritage or how the provisions came to be.  They have become drunk from the bounty, and yes sire rumors that the Watchers are less than once thought.”
   Looking at Vethdema, his spiritual advisor, “What do you say?”
   Vethdema echoed the same, adding, “Sire, if I may – a way of earning these ‘blessings’ might be devised that would encourage more willing citizens of our original intent as teachers to the ‘lesser’ men.”
   Vendumar smiled, being greatly pleased, “Understood.”  Turning to his cup bearer, the king introduced, “This man here, Kalena by name, had no fear in sharing this truth with me.  Because of that, and the respect I have witnessed first-hand; I name you as the Mayor of Mithar.  As the people reenter the city I think it would be best to see one of their own leading them. You shall be second only to myself.  Your greatest advisors shall be these two here.  As quickly as you rose surely may you fall; we all know this to be true.  Now, come you three dine and tell me more.  I am hungry for meat and your councils both.”

   Slowly over the weeks a teaching school within the tower was setup.  It also was devised that only those who attended such training were allowed to reside within the protective walls of the city.  In this way was the city regained from the Nasil without bloodshed; and the power of the king grew.  The basic need for masons to repair the southern wall, and teaching desert dwellers how to fish came as among the first lessons to be taught.  Later great houses grew out from the tower each with a degree plan and skill.  In time the Priesthood grew stronger devising coded lessons and password making it even more challenging to reside in Mithar Its wealth and prestige grew as well.

Kimashe and the Bleeding Stones

   In the early morning hours King Vendumar was awaken by a horrific nightmare but told no one of its details.  He called for his Councilors: Spiritual Advisor, Chef Guard and the Mayor of Mithar.  Though their conversations eased him back to a waking state, none could tell him his dream or its meaning.
   The Mayor said, “Forgive me O King, but there is one from the Nasilian camp named Kimashe, called a Seer by her people.  It is said that ‘she knows the unknown and can discern the yet to be’, sire.”
   Vendumar replied, “You are all good as you are but in this matter – bring her before me, but do not breathe a word as to why.  That I may know she is true or false.”

   Going out to the tent city of Slavath, a mile from the city gate of Mithar they searched her out.  At a blue tent on the outside of the settlement Kalena, the Mayor and two tower guards dismounted their steads as he called out her name.  From within the tent, she called them inside.  The tent looked much grander and larger on the inside than its small outside appearance.  Many colored veils and lit candles were everywhere, bones and feather and furs.  Rising from a pillowed seat a young woman said, “He has cried for three nights, but only this morning has he begged an answer from you and two others.  Even now he orders me to appear for a meaning of his woe.”
   “How did –,” began Kalena?
   But Kimashe replied in haste, “We must go.”  She walked as the three others rode horseback refusing to be lifted up.  Through the great statued gate, down the cobbled stone streets to the many stairs of Varlendur they soon came before the king in his tower.

   Behind the King’s throne the wall was a painted with a scene of the Great Departure; the boarding of the last swan ship.  For all his power Vendumar had no understanding of his own dream.  Coming before the king, Kalena introduced her, “Sire, here is the Nasilian Seer, Kimashe by name lord.”
   Kimashe stood dressed in a white hooded robe, both hands and bare feet adorned with rings and bracelets; she was covered in tattoos.  Her face was sand white, and hair black as coal.  Just as King Vendumar was about to speak, she spoke instead, “The bleeding-eye crows have nothing better to do than to torment you for the last three night of your sleep, and wrestle with your thoughts in the day, mi lord.  Shaken and crying in the night like an abandon child in a sand storm.  I tell you now oh King to command your scribe to write down all that I say; and the day my words perish is the day the dreams return worse than before.”
  Vendumar nodded, even as the scribe was already fast at his work.  Then the king asked, “What was the dream and its meaning, child?”
   “A bleeding eye crow sat on a huge cut stone lying on its side.  The crow flew to the ground as the pillar was raised.  Four times this happened.  Yet amid the standing stones were six bleeding eye crows walking about on the blood soaked ground.”
   The king was happy to have found someone who could tell him his dream but was in awe at who spoke the words.  The one before him was no more than a child of eight, but her maturity was more.  Vendumar inquired, “There was another.”
  Kimashe looked very grave, “Indeed there was sire.  For all six crows came together as one making a seventh larger crow.  The seventh crow had white bleeding eyes and a forked tongue like a snake.  The large, sharped tongue crow began pecking at a gold, ringlet-leaf crown, like yours.  It filled with holes and each one was bleeding, before it fell apart and melted into the blood soaked ground.”
   Falling back into his throne with great fright, Vendumar gasped, “Come wicked child!  Pray tell me surely the meaning of such disgust and mare as this thing you have made plan to me and all here.  These are the very things indeed that have so plagued me!”
  Both of her arms rose out and became stiff.  Her fingers went jagged and ridged as her own grey eyes began to bleed.  Suddenly her gentle voice sounded like that of an old man, “Six shall come, and four be slain and their black words shall see much blood spilt.  A seventh shall rise greater than the six.  Embolden by them the very king who hears him shall be the final one!”   After her prophecy she collapsed to the floor.  Upon standing she was as before.
  The entire room was much worried by her words.  Vendumar said, “No one shall speak against the king.  The king himself, alone shall reprieve or condemn any who do for that is what kings do; fate and judgement.  In this matter, I perceive you have spoken truthfully without malice.  We shall strive in our reign to cause only light, good and harmony to continue in -.”
   “What of Varlendur and the dungeon renown through Eriduah; and you as holder of its iron key?” Kimashe interrupted.
  Vendumar saw this was no child before him but something greater, “You have been afforded good will up to this point, Seer of Nasil.  Watch your words and tone thereof.  There is a reason and season for that key and its business is no concern of yours.  Thank you for your service; you may either return to your old life or begin a new one here.”

  “I shall return unhindered either way.”  As she turned to leave the great tower doors flew open on their own accord to the dismay of all.



Tales from the Nephilim age


Nephilim Age Forgotten

Upon a mighty hill I saw
covered beneath massive waves
vast oceans crashing upon oceans;
no where for a lone raven to rest,
no branch anywhere for peace.

The dead were awash
till the lands reappeared
and the waters receded;
only a handful remained
to bury the multitude.

For the world had turned
full face unto its arrogance
and a grave-shame unto itself
as pride and vanity were all about.

Eating without care or want
and drinking the filth of wine
beyond gluttony's ripe pleasure
was in everything they did!

For disrespect of elders or peer
fearless in the face of sin
eager to way-lay the innocent
even among the weak of kin.

The Land was without love
natural affections were meaningless
right living abandoned
in the face of perverse lusts.

Men laid with children or animals
as if alongside women;
and they forsook men
for the forgetful bliss of herbs.

The world was stumbled
in depth of greed and lust
they were washed away
that Nephilim Age forgotten!