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"Your bravery and cleverness got us this far. I want to follow that bravery and cleverness, toward the better version of me that you make me want to be."

New chapter ^ up next Tuesday!

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From Prince Gorz and the Curse of the Horny Meat People...

“They are your key to the tomb?” Gorz whispers incredulously, eyeing the pair of young warriors struggling up the mountainside.

            “Scoff if you like, fool,” Iaxirai hisses. “These callow youths possess a power we chosen of the Most Glorious Bone Master could never dream of harnessing.”

            “True love?”

            Iaxirai retches as if that had been a serious suggestion. “No, you fool! Repression! Liathir the Lightdrinker designed his tomb’s doors so they would only open for a pair of impossible creatures: two humans aged eighteen to twenty-one, unrestrained by family, unbroken by dogma, whose greatest desire is to fuck each other but who nonetheless refrain! Behold the male, whose pathetic meat parts long to dominate a woman as mighty as he is, but whose insecurity demands she behave as his inferior! Behold too the female, who longs to submit to his meatly ministrations, but who is far too prideful to admit her companion a worthy dom! They are the perfect key to Liathir’s lock!” 💀⚔💀⚔💀⚔💀⚔💀⚔💀⚔💀⚔💀⚔💀⚔💀⚔💀⚔💀⚔💀⚔💀⚔💀⚔ Part 1 of our new bonus novelette, Prince Gorz and the Curse of the Horny Meat People is up on our Subscribestar. It's Bhelg and Brodcrum versus their feelings for each other and also a pair of evil cock-blocking skeletons. Also I just ran the numbers and apparently we are trying way too hard, because there's actually more bonus story on the Subscribestar than there is main BEHOLD! chapters up on the site. 32,555 words versus the site's 29,963, and that's not even counting the two main chapters we've got posted a month early. So if you like BEHOLD! and are hungry for more, just $5 will double how much you get.

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Tolkien really just paused in the middle of the hobbit chase to describe a sunrise so raw you could feel the clammy dawn of a sleepless night sticking between your fingers? When your face is cold and your blood is up and the world is sharp and you are sharp and dawn is spilling pink onto the highway or the train station ceiling or the hills of Rohan? It is a sensation not even California weed can match.

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That's a mighty patron Elric, but a useless one as well...

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My dear, don't be afraid of me.

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YUDHO

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From BEHOLD! Chapter 7: A Massive Capacity For Passion...

“You could say we were young and foolish," Brodcrum says. "So foolish that we disregarded the Barbarians’ and Amazons’ mutual second rule of non-suicidal quest selection: don’t mess with Ankyria!”

“Reasonable,” Kneewound says with a bitter laugh. “What’s the first rule?”

“Don’t mess with Osseon,” Brodcrum says grimly. “Another rule we’d eventually break, but… anyway, we set out for Vunderbort, the Ankyrian capital, as we’d heard tell of a great hoard of enchanted swords there, and figured Reductor might be in it.”

            “That must have been quite a journey,” Kneewound says. “Isn’t Vunderbort like a thousand miles from Um?”

            “More than half the span of the Earthshard,” Brodcrum confirms, and is pleased to realize he has at least one thing he can brag about: “To traverse it at speed we needed to conquer the terror of the bus.”

            “The terror of the… bus?” Kneewound sounds as confused as she is unimpressed.

            Brodcrum glowers. “I hear skepticism in your voice! Skepticism of a woman who has not encountered one of these horrid beasts of metal and spellsteam! Large as three hovels stuck together, very loud and very stinky, and prone to running over the unwary rather than get any farther behind on their unpredictable timetables! Still worse, Bhelg and I could not ride in their bellies for this would require us to wear clothes, and also give up our weapons, either of which alone would have been a dealbreaker. We had to learn the art of sneaking up on buses at night, mounting them, and riding on their backs from town to town unperceived by guards and driver alike! An exhilarating feat, especially when the wretched beasts careen at speed along the cliffside roads that traverse the Gorptbur Mountains!”

            That gets an appreciative eyebrow raise from Kneewound. “I imagine you had to move by night a lot. The Ankyrian police don’t take kindly to Barbarians and Amazons traveling in their territory.”

            Brodcrum makes a weighing motion. “Neither of us were either yet. We had heard of the Beautiful One, and admired him, but we would not take him into our hearts for some time. Still, we looked the part and that was enough. We had to steal from food hoards to eat.”

            “What, like grocery stores?”

            “Food hoards,” Brodcrum stresses. “The other name is lieful, for it implies any may come there to take food for a fair price--but we saw those prices! We took one look at them and, after filling our packs with food for ourselves, each took as much bread as we could carry, and before fleeing town scattered it on the doorsteps of the most wretched-looking hovels.”

            “Hey, there’s something to boast about!” Kneewound says with a smile that makes Brodcrum’s heart do a little dance. “Lots of honor in stealing when it’s to feed the poor, right? Maybe it’s not dangerous enough to impress your average Barbarian, but it’s a good thing.”

            “Bah, it wasn’t even my idea!” Brodcrum admits, though now he can’t help smiling. 💀⚔💀⚔💀⚔💀⚔💀⚔💀⚔💀⚔💀⚔💀⚔💀⚔💀⚔💀⚔💀⚔💀⚔💀 BEHOLD! Chapter 7: A Massive Capacity For Passion is up on the Runesword Productions website.

A link to the beginning, for those new to the adventure.

This sword & sorcery adventure serial, by queer author/artist duo Rune J. Sword & Death McHandsome, is available for free and updates every other week, but contributors to our Subscribestar get early chapters and biweekly bonus stories.

Wishing you all a very, "embrace the civilization-destroying barbarism inside of you," - Rune

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Oh wow, that's a lot of work to enhance my dumb shitpost, thank you! Also I scared my cat off my lap by loling too hard at "Fiore dei Liberi himself."

Swords Explained (Badly)

Arming sword: it’s the swordest sword to ever sword, nothing to explain, no complexity whatsoever, no sir.

Backsword: the extra-ancient, extra-special secret saber that you need to slay your coach to attain. Alas, for this sin you are cursed to forever wander, alone no matter the density of the crowd, that weirdo at the saber event whose weapon the gear inspectors puzzle over for fifteen minutes before finally shrugging and saying, “guess we’ll allow it.”

Basket-hilted broadsword: a single-handed sword with a unique, all-covering guard design, developed by the Scots to counter the British, who spread their tyranny to all corners of the globe through widespread use of their honorless hand-taps-only style of swordsmanship.

Cutlass: a saber too short to be useful outside its native environment of cramped sailing ships, the cutlass is now primarily used not as a weapon, but as steel plumage in the mating displays of that tropical bird of the sword nerd community, the ren faire pirate.

Dagger: a triangle-bladed spike of steel, the rondel dagger has been proven, by recent archaeological evidence, to be the only weapon that ever killed anybody in a medieval duel.

Dussack: a primitive boffer made from leather and wood. The term “dussack” is also occasionally used to describe a cutlass that happens to be owned by a German.

Gladius: it’s Greek or something.

Katana: A Japanese sword characterized by a curved, single-edged blade with a circular or squared guard and long grip to accommodate two hands.

Katzbalger: the preferred close combat weapon of the Landsknects, the most dangerous polycule of gay furries since the Sacred Band of Thebes.

Kriegsmesser: a curved longsword sometimes mistaken for the world’s biggest steak knife, the kriegsmesser is today wielded by fencers too self-conscious to admit that what they really want is a katana.

Longsword (German): the last of the Third Reich’s technologically impressive but strategically useless wunderwaffen, the German longsword was invented in the waning days of World War II. At first glance a simple two-handed sword, its hidden power can be activated with a 90-degree twist of the handle, which bodily transforms the wielder into an attack helicopter, careening uncontrollably toward its opponent to cleave their skull with its rotor blades.

Longsword (Italian): the apex of edged weapon fighting technology, capable of beat-thrusting its way through the armor of a main battle tank, this sublime weapon was single-handedly invented by the one true Daddy of swordsmanship, Fiore dei Liberi.

Messer: a small single-handed sword, the messer is possessed of a strange psychic property which makes every person you ask give you a different explanation for why it looks like a big knife.

Montante: a sword as lonely as it is horny. Though famous for its ability to take many men at once, this mighty greatsword has lived past its brief glory days. Now, in this degenerate age when large groups of men no longer thrust themselves into tight holes in castle walls, the tragically sexy montante has been largely abandoned by fencers who fear it is too mighty to fight with, even blunt.

Rapier: this extremely fashionable sword was meticulously optimized to defeat other people with the same taste in fashionable swords, exceeded in this niche role only by any other weapon capable of binding with its slender blade, as is related by history’s foremost expert in rapier fencing, George Silver.

Saber (dueling): known from a single extant specimen of an Absolute Fencing-brand electric saber inexplicably dating back to 18th Century France, the dueling saber is among the best evidence we have for the existence of time travel.

Saber (military): a blanket term for dozens of different single-handed curved swords from around the world, military saber as we know it today is a multitude of different martial traditions stitched together into a shambling undead abomination that stalks from club to club, eagerly devouring any fencer too unga bunga to be taken in by the wibbly allure of dueling saber.

Sickle: it’s not a farming implement, not any longer. Not even symbol of communism, no. This weapon has entered its final form as a dagger for people who think they are the main character.

Sidesword: too sexy to be an arming sword, too thicc to be a rapier, this evolutionary link between the two was simply too hot and had to be expunged from history to keep all the other swords from looking bad. It was only rediscovered in the modern day by reconstructive archaeological investigations into the philosophical absolute of “sexy sword.”

Shashka: a primitive saber without any kind of guard to protect the wielder’s precious fingers, the shashka is a weapon wielded exclusively by what is perhaps the most perplexing breed of sword nerd: the Cossack weaboo.

Smallsword: with its feather-light, sewing needle-like blade, the smallsword was invented so that waifish, noodle-armed rich boys would have a more traditionally masculine way to express their desire to kiss each other.

Spadroon: a likely-mythical weapon of extremely dubious historicity. Not only are there no extant examples of this sword, but experts agree there never were any to begin with. Its continued presence in modern HEMA culture is likely due to the deranged ramblings of fencers whose minds have been destroyed by their insatiable fetish for hybrid weaponry.

Swiss saber: a curved longsword with shockingly good hand protection, the ornate Swiss saber also demonstrates why basket-hilted two-handed swords never became popular: they look fucking stupid.

Viking sword: an arming sword that dropped out of school before it could develop even a rudimentary cross guard, the viking sword is the weapon of choice for those whose faith in the Aesir is as unshakable as their love for their only source in reconstructing their religion: the band Heilung.

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Performance Bonus: Flesh and Blood (1 of 5) - Saad Irfan

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As an artist, "I know my greatest pain is yet to come," is as hopeful as it is ominous when paired with, "All of my songs can only be composed of the greatest of pains." Maybe I'm drunk but Beauty of the Beast is a fucking underrrated song.

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The only thing better than Elric in a leotard is Elric in a unitard/catsuit

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𝕻𝖆𝖑𝖊 𝖘𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖘𝖒𝖆𝖓

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How it feels to own a black sword

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Nemeses

Shortly thereafter they’re all outside, on a flat and pebbly stretch of dirt, which has another of those cheerful little signs marking it, Designated Dueling Ground. Brodcrum and Bhelg kneel opposite each other, each trying to drown the other out as they bellow their intention to sacrifice each other to the Grim Lord of Death. Bhelg accentuates this by raising her axes crossed over her head. Brodcrum punches himself in the face after each pronouncement. This goes on for a surprisingly long time, so Naewoon sidles over to Lunria and whispers, “We’re not really going to let them do this, are we?”

            Naewoon flinches as Lunria’s gaze locks on him. The spider witch would’ve been on the tall side even if she were a man. “Would you love Brodcrum as much if his passions were restrained like some civilized man?”

            Naewoon turns red. “He and I--we’re not--” 

            “I’m sorry, I forgot you Barbarians like to pretend you don’t do that with each other,” Lunria says. Naewoon can’t tell if her smile is kind or mocking. 

            By this point the pre-duel ritual has devolved into Brodcrum and Bhelg roaring at each other. They really seem a matched set. Naewoon can imagine their lovemaking leveling buildings, and he turns even redder as he wonders why he imagined such a thing. Finally the duel begins, the combatants’ feet shuffling back and forth as they test each other, Brodcrum’s sword held cautiously in front of him, one of Bhelg’s axes held low and the other high.

            “My poor Bhelg.” Lunria’s eyes sparkle as she covers her mouth with a hand that has at least three spiders on it. “She’s not ready for this nemesis relationship to end.”

            “Yeah, I’ve never seen Brodcrum not go straight through someone before,” Naewoon says, wondering, Does she actually not know about the two of them? She has to be able to tell they're exes just looking at them!

            But when Naewoon looks at Lunria again he finds her eyes aren’t on the shuffling sorta-fight. Her face has snapped round to gaze west, over the Crags of Calamity. Naewoon wonders what she’s looking at before he hears it too: a distant rumbling, growing steadily louder. 💀⚔💀⚔💀⚔💀⚔💀⚔💀⚔💀⚔💀⚔💀⚔💀⚔💀⚔💀⚔💀⚔💀⚔💀

BEHOLD! Chapter 6: Nemeses is up on the Runesword Productions website.

For those who haven't read the first five chapters, here's a link to the very beginning of this queer fantasy adventure serial. Wishing you all the contentment that comes of knowing if *your* partner got into a duel with her ex, you'd be happy to watch because you know she's probably gonna kill that guy, - Rune

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Okay, so, looks like Google Docs might actually start implementing their rule about not sharing explicit content. (This includes writing.) How in the ever loving fuck am I supposed to back up 1,000+ stories that equate to 3 million+ words into fucking Microsoft Word????? And efficiently, for that matter?! HELP.

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Blatantly homophobic authors before the 2000s: Ahaha I’ve made the villain look GAY look at his BEAUTIFUL EFFEMINATE face and SLUTTY little waist and eyeliner as he struts about atop long shapely legs distracting the MASCULINE hero

Horny fucks now: Aw nice more food :333