27 Jun 2025 - Transcribed by Paul Turner
So you somehow found your way here or found a weird sticker and thought why the hell not?
Ugly Tome was a project I did because I wanted two accomplish two things:
1) Have a themed setting for my stories.
2) Condition myself to write more without worrying as much about the structure and just try to have fun with it.
So was Ugly Tome successful? Maybe. Maybe not. However, I don’t believe it ever found an audience. That’s fine, not every project does. With that in mind, I’ve put up the few stories I also included when I was linking this to a Patreon account too.
I hope you enjoyed the silly stories, and thanks for reading.
Continue reading
26 Jun 2025 - Transcribed by Paul Turner
King Goliant scratched at his patchy beard, as he did often when he was thinking. Also when he was drinking, riding, between shots of his bow, in his sleep, and when trying to sire an heir. When one hand was free, his fingers inevitably found their way to his face. He kept his nails short to prevent the bleeding he experienced during the first year of his reign over the Fingered Isles.
“That damnable witch!” He would often shout. It had become a tic, something he even shouted as a cheer on his last birthday by accident.
Of course, everyone in his small kingdom of fishermen knew the tale. Captain Goliant had rode in with a fleet of ships, barbarous pirates from the east who regularly raided the isles. Every thirteen years or so, the raids seemed to occur like puberty. He overtook each meager garrison within a day, killing several distant cousins from his homelands in the process. Then he finally took the throne, relieving a thankful population of peasants ready for some semblance of normalcy to return to their lives. On this day of ascension, after stabbing a half-brother twice removed, Goliant encountered the Queen. She was a sorceress of the dunes of the beach. This Sand Witch cursed him that day. Her fine cloak billowed, and she raised her voice to a tenor both beautiful and terrifying.
Continue reading
25 Jun 2025 - Transcribed by Paul Turner
After three days, the rains finally relented in the ridgelands of southern Crimson Rock. The air felt crisp and cool as the sun peeked over the horizon. However, before it had a chance to show in full, Gimlo was awakened by the clanging of pots and packing of rucksacks. The clan was moving out, it seemed.
Gimlo was half goblin, and because of his soft hair, straight spine, and distinct lack of face boils he was viewed as lesser by the rest of the clan. In fact, the only reason he remained alive to this point was due to his height, which at five foot two, towered over the others. They were frequent in reminding him that it was the only thing which kept him alive.
Gimlo had been sold to the clan about a decade before, the exact date he could not be sure. He only ever recalled the last night with his parents, which he played back in his mind often. They shared a meager meal, he went to bed, and awoke in irons. His life was over.
Continue reading
11 Feb 2025 - Transcribed by Paul Turner
This is the story of Brindle Goldenbeard, the Dwarven Muscle Mercenary. Brindle only cared about three things. Mass, progressive overloading, and his beautiful golden locks. He had always been obsessed with his appearance, having broken his mother’s water after doing one too many burpees in the womb. His mom did not even have to push him out and Brindle pulled himself out with a single arm and immediately started doing single arm push-ups with the other arm.
Continue reading
14 Jun 2024 - Transcribed by Paul Turner
Brother Fennick’s neck was sore from checking over his shoulder as he made his way to the woods at the edge of the village. He rubbed the muscles holding his egg-shaped head, hoping to soothe them, but moreso to use up the anxiety coursing through his veins. It did little to help. He put out his small lamp and did what he could to pull up the ends of his robes to keep them from getting dirty. That was how he got caught last time. The older brothers made him dig new latrines for that particular indiscretion. He was unsure what they would do if they actually knew why he was going out into the forest at night.
Continue reading
