At just after six and one-quarter owls that morning, three matters are of immediate concern to Lieutenant Camden Ironbell of the Gnome Guards. How can he defend Elizabeth Ridge from a platoon of crack Goblin commandos with no surviving troops left under his command? When are they going to attack? And what time is lunch?…
Core Insistence
The tall, black-clad figure of Zinnai Savita Ké glinted into shape with a sigh of expanding air and a shower of portal radiation overspill, her e-familiar, Zac, following in close attendance. She never travelled on her own these days, not since being recruited by Insight anyway. Being in a world of conspiracy, unexplained tech, and…
Captain Camden’s Last Day
Part 1: Captain Camden and the General Even a decade after leaving the frigid caves of Antarctica for the humid streets of Lundeinjon, Camden Ironbell, Captain in Her Majesty’s Gnome Guards, still feels the chill of early mornings deep in his bones. It was as if he were permanently afflicted by a conjuration cast by…
The pre-story timeline: it begins at Chapter 0 NE
Dyson Deux Digits
Dyson Deux Digits by Martyn Winters “If yer want my opinion,” says Bill Bordersack. He looks up at Alana, with his runtish face twisted into an expression of interest coloured by just enough salacious intent to make most women uncomfortable. Alana isn’t most women, though. She likes to think of herself as a professional, and…
Returning the empties
“If yer want my opinion,” says Bill. He looks up at Alana, with his runtish face twisted into an expression of intensity. “Frankly Bill, I don’t,” Alana interjects before he can launch into one of his tirades about the subject at hand, one of his favourites—why elves would be better employed getting some time in—and…
Hua Jin revealed
Slisork, son of Usmirx, clambers deftly over the rocky outcrop delineating the southern edge of The Abyss, the Diamond Sword of Besmirched the Elder in one taloned hand. His shell-phone rings. Plucking it from his cloak pocket, he snaps, “Yes. What now?” “Stand-by, I have S’tan on the line,” says a voice sounding remarkably like…
The last bus to Vale by Martyn Winters
As was the practice in those superficially gentler times, Fletcher Brunestadt introduced himself to his fellow traveller as he sat alongside her, midway in the serried ranks of seats, conveniently adjacent to the bell-push, an expediency he found apposite in some circumstances. Alighting a moving bus carried some peril in icy weather, and his art…