Flawed Femmes wielding Whips, Guns, and Blades
Agaric runs a hand over his face. It comes away slippery with sweat. He frowns at the faint blue tinge on his fingers. The Shaman’s mark is rubbing off. The chests and faces of his warriors also show their wards Read More …
“Fire!” Bhenny ducks as a collection of flaming branches spins through the window and hits the floor, throwing up sparks. He tries to stomp it out, sending flecks of glowing wood skittering across the room. Narrius kicks a small Read More …
Agaric wrenches the sword from the dirt-scratcher’s throat and the man spasms one last time. Pain-filled gurgles, and the slick crunch of steel hacking through bone fills his ears as his warriors dispatch the last of the armoured men Read More …
“Well, get yer ass up on the roof if you’re so damned set on getting it shot off.” Droellen resumes shoving a ramrod down the matchlock barrel, grunting as he pushes the wadding home, muscles rippling across his bare shoulders. Read More …
Hurry, damn, it. They’re coming. In seconds a thousand clan hooves will be pounding up to Little Westhold! Merreth looks up sharply and peers along the road. No clan. Of course, if they were on the road there’d be Read More …
Merreth’s mount stamps its foot and snorts. She leans forward and rubs its neck. A bead of sweat rolls down her cheek, drips onto the saddle horn, and vanishes. It’s is well past mid-afternoon and the air is stone still Read More …
Gytega sits back in his saddle, bow in one hand, water skin in the other. He raises his chin, closes his eyes against the merciless sun, and takes a small sip. Not enough to replace what he’s sweated off, but Read More …
Her eyes closed, Merreth lets the water run down her face and listens to it drip back into the wash basin on Charadell’s desk. She splashes her cheeks again and rubs her nose. I’m still dirty, and smell like a Read More …
“I have you to thank,” she says. Mistress Merreth does not turn around as I sit down a few feet from her. She looks out over the Milderdort harbour. The small Temple plaza is perched on a hill and affords Read More …
“They’re just standing around basking in the sun?” asks Charadell. “How many?” The scout, young and blonde, sits on her horse and shrugs. “About sixty, Domina, and yes, that’s exactly what they seem to be doing. There’s one in Read More …
