The final death takes place on Qward. While the Sinestro Corps present, and their enslaved Qwardians, work to protect the Central Power Battery for the Sinestro Corps against the neverending onslaught of the Black Lanterns, Kirik'maas of Sector 3753 allows himself to be cornered by a phalanx of the dead -- including the parents he murdered with ( Read more... )

The opulent Gotham auction house was a hive of bustling activity. Private collectors from all over the world have gathered, hoping to procure one or more of the rarer lots from the “Art Through the Ages” themed collection. The collection, which contained items spanning nearly four thousand years of history, was displayed throughout the room for the ( Read more... )

Somewhere in New York City, Morgain le Fey has a small stronghold, warded from any form of mystical detection. It is here that she has brought her prisoner ( Read more... )

It's been an odd 24 hours ( Read more... )

The Green Chapel is within a deeply wooded area, built into the side of a hill. The only ceiling is made up of interweaving tree branches, and a small creek runs through the center of the chapel. One of the walls has collapsed, and a second wall has vanished completely. At the front of the chapel is an altar carved out of a tree trunk. The whole ( Read more... )

Ian steps out of the castle-turned-theme-restaurant, the heavy double-bladed axe in his hand. He stares at the blade as he walks, taking in its details. The wood and leather of the handle and the metal of the blade itself are all green, and the handle is carved to have ivy growing around it and wrapping around the head ( Read more... )

Ian filled his allies in on the legend of the Green Knight during the plane trip.

"The Green Knight came to Camelot one Christmas," he had explained, "to challenge Arthur's knights to exchange blows. Gawain accepts the challenge and strikes off the Knight's head. The Green Knight retrieves his head and asks Gawain to meet him at the Green Chapel ( Read more... )

Ian sighs. This has to be the most indirect way to England that he's ever been.

Not a single ticket available out of Providence. Not a one. Not for at least a day ( Read more... )

Ian McDougal sighs, running his fingers through his hair. The stacks of books before him would intimidate most grad students; he's only a third the way through the pile now, meaning he's got hours left until he's done. It'll be another late night in the library ( Read more... )