About the Author:
Thomas Howard Riley currently resides in a secluded grotto in the wasteland metropolis, where he reads ancient books, plays ancient games, watches ancient movies, jams on ancient guitars, and writes furiously day and night. He sometimes appears on clear nights when the moon is gibbous, and he has often been seen in the presence of cats.
He always wanted to make up his own worlds, tell his own stories, invent his own people, honor the truths of life, and explore both the light and the darkness of human nature. With a few swords thrown in for good measure.
And some magick. Awesome magick.
He was content to write just for himself, not really trying to see any work in the public sphere, putting out proto-novels here and there, not thinking anyone would care. But then something changed. Now he sees it as his duty to make sure these stories get into the hands of as many of the people who might want to see them as possible. And now here we are. The journey begins.
He was raised on a steady diet of books, movies, comics, anime, and 8-bit Nintendo games. He was reading Tolkein and Asimov for fun instead of practicing his cursive handwriting. He read the chronological timelines at the end of Return of the King at least a hundred times more often than he read the actual book. He was, as they say, an odd child. He still is. (both odd, and a child) And he owns it, loves it, cherishes it. If you aren’t weird, you aren’t really worth knowing.
Somewhere along the way he developed an obsession with drawing maps of imaginary places, creating family trees of royal house that never existed, and dreaming up entire histories of cultures that never actually happened. If there was no proper word in the dictionary to express what he was thinking, he would make it up himself, and never offer an apology for it.
He wants to tell stories that are beautiful and ugly, funny and sad, horrifying and amazing, tragic and beautiful. And he wants you to be a part of it.
