Resultado de "Oliver Darkshire" em Todas as categorias

In the storm–drenched city of Verdigris, home to indolent sorcerers and undead hotels, something is dreadfully wrong. Buildings are starting to crumble due to the kidnapping of their hobs, the many-legged house spirits that keep each home in order. In such times, one would ordinarily blame the...

Seit etlichen Jahren ist Isabella Nagg unglücklich mit Farmer Nagg verheiratet, ihr einziger Vertrauter ist ihr kostbarer Basilikum. Haupteinkommen der Naggs ist die jährliche Alraunen-Ernte, die sie immer an den ortsansässigen Zauberer liefern. Diesmal jedoch platzt der Deal, denn der Magier ist wie vom Erdboden verschluckt. Als Entschädigung lässt Farmer Nagg einen Band des Zauberbuches mitgehen, sehr zum Erschrecken seiner Frau. Doch als Isabella sich beruhigt hat und Zeit, über ihr Leben nachzudenken, stellt sich ihr unausweichlich die Frage: Kann ein bisschen Magie wirklich schaden?

In a tiny farm on the edge of the miserable village of East Grasby, Isabella Nagg is trying to get on with her tiny, miserable existence. Dividing her time between tolerating her feckless husband, caring for the farm’s strange animals, cooking up “scrunge,” and crooning over her treasured pot of basil, Isabella can’t help but think that there might be something more to life. When Mr. Nagg returns home with a spell book purloined from the local wizard, she thinks: what harm could a little magic do?

In a tiny, miserable farm on the edge of the tiny, miserable village of East Grasby, Isabella Nagg is trying to get on with her equally tiny and miserable existence. Dividing her time between enduring her feckless husband, inadequately caring for the farm's strange collection of animals, cooking up 'scrunge', and crooning over her treasured pot of basil, Isabella can't help but think that there might be something more to life. So, while she's initially aghast when Mr. Nagg comes home with a spell book purloined from the local wizard, she soon starts to think: what harm could a little magic do?

Some years ago, Oliver Darkshire stepped into the hushed interior of Henry Sotheran Ltd on Sackville Street (est. 1761) to interview for their bookselling apprenticeship, a decision which has bedevilled him ever since. He'd intended to stay for a year before launching into some less dusty, better remunerated career. Unfortunately for him, the alluring smell of old books and the temptation of a management-approved afternoon nap proved irresistible. Soon he was balancing stacks of first editions, fending off nonagenarian widows with and trying not to upset the store's resident ghost.