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Archive for the ‘Six Sentence Sunday’ Category

It’s Six Sentence Sunday www.sixsunday.com again, so we’ll continue where we left off in Stranger’s Gambit, on the water front in Nerros…

Val’s luck, his normal constant companion, had abandoned him or at the very least temporally deserted him. Picked pockets normally full of shiny baubles and coins, lately were empty. Prospects inexplicably absent, his coffers were almost entirely drained with no obvious resources appearing on the horizon to fill them.

Damn the guards and the increased security.

He should have never slept with the lieutenant’s wife, or at least not gotten caught. Fortunately, he made it out the window before the lieutenant could grab him, small blessings.

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It’s Six Sentence Sunday www.sixsunday.com again, so we’ll continue where we left off in Stranger’s Gambit, on the water front in Nerros…

He pulled his cloak tight around him, raising the black cowl to cover his face, the soul deep cold inescapable. I’ve traversed too many years from there to here. Unfortunately the desirable continuum converged, in this moment, in this place, beginning with the man he now sought; Val.

The Stranger chuckled to himself. How apt, a rogue and a cut-purse, if only the others were still here to see, it would have given them a fit of apoplexy. Smiling at the warmth that thought gave him, he pressed on towards his destination, a small Inn on the waterfront of Nerros.

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I recently discovered Six Sentence Sunday and decided to join in on the fun. You can too at http://sixsunday.com

Here’s a post from my work in progress, Stranger’s Gambit, a dark fantasy.

He made his way along the docks, absently flexing his fingers, reveling in the sensation of being present in his own flesh once again. He inhaled the aromas of the sea, salt filled and fishy, allowing the usually offensive scents to roll over his olfactory glands uninhibited. Even the sounds, normally deafening in their conglomeration, came unfiltered; fishmongers calling out the days catch, sailors barking orders, gulls begging for scraps. Humanity, his bane and pleasure, bustled around him in all its messy glory.

Soon it would all come to stagnation.

He pulled his cloak tight around him, raising the black cowl to cover his face, the cold even here inescapable.

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