In the name of the Three that protect us from the darkness, I swear that I speak these vows of my own mind.
I swear my beating heart to Urogalan, that my blood may ward and warm us, and that the hound may eat it when at last it stills, and carry me to judgement to return me anew to service.
I swear my unbound mind to Sheela Pehr, that in setting it to wheel she may keep it from the hands that seek to grasp it, and that she may keep my body whole that it may bow before the altar.
I swear my clasping hands to Arvoreen, that he may place into them a spear to strike the darkness, and that he may never find them wanting in diligence against the Enemy.
I swear my all to Erech the Prophet, the Three-In-One, who freed us from the Mother Who Was False, that his sacrifice be not in vain, and that we may again walk beyond the frost.
In the name of the Three that protect us from the darkness, I swear that I speak these vows of my own mind, and should they be found wanting, may the Enemy drink me dry for my sin.
The end of days has come and gone. The world has fallen silent in the grip of the enemy, and the darkened earth seems beyond salvation.
But the Hin have not yet given up hope. For they have the Word of Erach to guide them. And if faith can raise walls to keep out the apocalypse itself, maybe it can fight back.
If not that, then what?
Van Halfling is high gothic fantasy taken just seriously enough to justify hunting monsters with chainsaws. It borrows heavily from Van Helsing, Attack on Titan, Warhammer 40k, and affectionate parody of the Catholic Church. Those are the trappings, anyway; there’s something squirming in the dark at the heart of all this.
Also, everyone is halflings. Did I mention that?
Page image by Zhou Peng.