A Rake by Starlight - Chapter 22

Submitted by C B Wright on
WHEREIN a Business Partner Experiences an Unwelcome Change in Status

Amys walked into the Wardroom to find Grif and Baron Tyrelos locked in the middle of renegotiating their business relationship. This renegotiation consisted of Grif and the baron trying to drink each other under the table: so far, two bottles of Varkavian Whiskey and half a bottle of Stellis Blue had been sacrificed on the altar of Trying To Get the Upper Hand.

Grif looked up, saw Amys, and raised his glass in salute.

“Apparently,” Amys said, voice dry, “today was a bad day to go out.”

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Submitted by C B Wright on

I'm 45 today!

Today, in honor of my birthday, I am getting in a car and traveling 10-15 hours (depending on traffic and stops) in order to spend the week with family.

A Rake by Starlight - Chapter 21

Submitted by C B Wright on
WHEREIN Secrets are Revealed, and Negotiations Begin Anew

Grif stared at the impassive face of Stebbil Tanz and tried not to look surprised.

Tanz was human—that made sense, since Mogra Tylaris was human, and Tanz had been his doctor. Some doctors specialized in cross-species medicine, but it was more common for doctors to study their own racial biology. He was a tall man, slight of build, and his light brown hair was thinning on top and graying on the sides.

“You look more distinguished alive,” Grif said.

Cracked Foundations: Part Four

Submitted by C B Wright on
Thorpe Island, Fishing Pier

CB watches the ocean as he smokes.

The island has a mid-sized town, the town has a small marina, and just off to the side of the marina is a long pier. CB sits at the end of the pier, trying to figure out if he can feel the island floating. It’s an artificial island, after all, and since it’s out in the middle of the ocean he’s pretty sure it doesn’t go all the way down, so it has to float. It’s not so much an island as it is a boat that looks like an island: boats float. Boats also move, and since Robert built it, CB’s convinced that not only does it float and move, it can probably submerge itself. At this point, he’s not willing to dismiss the idea that it can fly.

But he’s focused on trying to feel the island float. On the boat-island proper he can’t feel anything—it’s indistinguishable from solid ground as far as he’s concerned—but out here there’s… something. Maybe it’s just his imagination, but he thinks he can feel the slightest hint of a bob.

The air rustles in a not-quite-natural manner, then something thuds on the pier behind him.

“Hello Roger.” CB doesn’t turn. He flicks cigarette ash out into the water.

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