Tatter: Chapter 33

Previous chapter Eric Grazen felt the intruder's presence before he saw him. "Raise your arms. Slowly." "Are you KSRU?" Grazen inquired trepidatiously, straightening before the diagnostic pod in which the specimen lay, watching with wide, dichromatic eyes. "Doesn't matter who I am," the intruder responded flatly. Grazen felt the cold, forceful sting of metal upon… Continue reading Tatter: Chapter 33

Tatter: Chapter 25

Previous chapter The men and women of Aestival moved as a pack, eight in number, through the labyrinthian alleyways of the city as rain pelted all from the roiling red-gray welkin. Their muscles taunt; eyes sharp; hearts pounding; weapons primed. Upon entering the HEZ, they paused to recover and take in their surroundings, checking the… Continue reading Tatter: Chapter 25

Fides Quae Creditur: Chapter One

The sun beat down the crumbling, moss-covered stone against which the two men leaned, looking off into a great recess. They stared idly from the outskirts of the docile, decaying hamlet of Kraevn at the misted distance of the declining wilds, and as they did, a chill wind swept in from the south, jostling their… Continue reading Fides Quae Creditur: Chapter One

The Dauntless Rook (§.16)

Continued from §.15   When Sprill realized his tenants were either sleeping, hiding, or vacant, he gave a soft grunt of irritation, produced a keyring and turned the lock. Adair followed the landlord and moved through the small, sparse room to the window and peered out into the cluttered lane below, spying only a grim,… Continue reading The Dauntless Rook (§.16)

The Dauntless Rook (§.14)

Continued from §.13. Serlo Wealdmaer exited the cabaret to behold an angwissous man in a corvine coat, running full-tilt across the cobblestones of the main thorough. The sprinter shouted for aid as he sped, arms flailing like a beached and barmy cephalopod. Something about the manic figure seemed familiar to Serlo. He narrowed his gaze… Continue reading The Dauntless Rook (§.14)

The Machine Of Wester Moorley (§.05)

§.05 Albrecht was confident the statue he spied through the window of the school was that which rested in his coat pocket. He strode up the porch and tried the handle. Unlocked. Drawn by curiosity the man pressed within and looked around with slight trepidation. The school, Albrecht surmised, had formerly been a saloon, for… Continue reading The Machine Of Wester Moorley (§.05)

The Machine Of Wester Moorley (§.03)

§.03 Matthias Emery Thall raised his arms in salutations as Albrecht walked through the doors of his study. "My good sir, at last you have arrived. I am Matthias Thall. Please, take a seat." "Your hospitality is much appreciated, Mayor Thall." "Oh, please, call me Matt." "If you prefer." "Otto—why didn't you pick Mr. Brandt… Continue reading The Machine Of Wester Moorley (§.03)

The Machine of Wester Moorley (§.02)

§.02 Albrecht shoveled the jam-and-butter-slathered bread into his mouth as Otto consulted a small glass of whiskey. Otto sipped and gestured to the jellied-roll on the engineer's plate. "You're lucky. We're nearly at the last of it." "Of the bread you mean?" Otto nodded and held up the glass, swirling the amber liquid. "Bread and… Continue reading The Machine of Wester Moorley (§.02)

The Machine of Wester Moorley (§.01)

§.01 The barton of Nilreb sat upon a dry, razored plain, encircled by high and jagged mountains of reddish-beige stone that looked from afar like the fangs of some ancient and gargantuan beast. Only one road let in from the outer world to that wasted space and upon it, a lone man strode, a thin… Continue reading The Machine of Wester Moorley (§.01)