Snippet the Last, THE GOLEM JOB.

I’ll be cleaning it up tomorrow, but it’s done. Note, by the way: this was written to be broken up for various sections of a RPG supplement, so it’s more a set of vignettes than anything else. I will probably expand it more if and when I get around to volume 2 of TALES FROM THE FERMI RESOLUTION. Which, yes, is an agenda item.


“By the ’Wood but I hate Dominion apprentices,” Oren snarled as the two of us took temporary cover. Very temporary: the Old American consoles and chairs hadn’t exploded from the fireball, but they were now half melted, smelled full-skin awful, and were too hot to stay behind for long. Even now I’m still mad about that. I’m no archeological purist, but that stuff was priceless. Well, almost.

“Who likes Dominion apprentices?” I muttered back, and touched my keep-in-touch amulet. I clicked it twice, and a bit of me relaxed when I got four clicks back. Nobody was down or out, then. That was good news.

Unfortunately, the rest of the news was bad. Starting with ‘Dominion apprentice.’ We hadn’t expected there to be anybody else in the bunker when we got there. I had only gotten a vague impression of filthy robes, wild hair, and seething fury before arcane energies started flying, but it had to be an apprentice. If they had had the drop on us, one of their full mages would have killed half the party in the first seconds, and an Archmage would have just wiped us out of existence before we could notice.

We still needed to move, though. That meant a distraction. “I’m sorry, Oren,” I told him, “but we need a diversion.”

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