Huzzah! This month’s installment of THE BOLD MARAUDER was a lot easier to write than last month’s, too. Then again, I’m not ill.
Category: Patreon
Patreon Microfiction: No, Really, Never You Mind.
No, Really, Never You Mind. Dryads in mythology can be incredibly touchy creatures. All nymphs and female nature spirits, really. If they’re not being in a killing mood, you probably shouldn’t try to change that by asking impertinent questions.
Patreon microfiction: ‘All the Reason I Need.’
We ever get off this rock, “All the Reason I Need” will at some point become historical fiction. “Because I felt like it” and “You ain’t the boss of me” covers so many situations, doesn’t it? …As well it should.
Patreon Microfiction: He Wasn’t Really Fitting In.
“He Wasn’t Really Fitting In” isn’t about Even Evil Has Standards. It’s about Even Evil Recognizes That The System Has To Work. There are times when the best thing an entity can do for an organization is to explode, in a fashion that takes out a few of the enemy, too.
The November Patreon stuff is up!
I’m mildly cheating, but only mildly. Chapter Four of BANSHEE BEACH had tons of [put something cool in here] notes, which is both necessary and a terrifying thing to do. What if you forget? …I’ve seen those things get as far as an E-ARC. It’s a valid fear.
Anyway:
Behold!
- Short Story: Chapter Four of BANSHEE BEACH: It’s Forty Miles to Red Beach. The world of the Fermi Resolution is kind of weird, because it’s post-apocalyptic, not medieval. This book’s gonna get into that a little, methinks.
- RPG Material: The Cunning Land, Part One: Background. This is gonna be a little more hard-edged than originally conceived. The trick is gonna be not to make it too hard-edged.
Patreon Microfiction: “Only Six Hours? A NIGHT?”
“Only Six Hours? A NIGHT?” is very firmly in the ‘Humans are Space Orcs’ tradition of modern Internet fiction. I enjoy that genre very much, by the way. The trick is to find something new that works as a hidden superpower.
Microfiction: Detachment of the Grave.
Zombies never made as much sense to me as revenants do. I can buy the idea of a spirit taking control of its old body and piloting it with the, ah, detachment of the grave more than I can really believe in a shambling zombie with a hunger for brains and warm flesh. The latter just seems to require more steps, I guess.
Anyway.
Patreon Microfiction: Let Sleeping Djinni Lie.
I cannot counsel that enough. Let Sleeping Djinni Lie. Wishes are dangerous.
11/04/2024 NotAWriMo, BANSHEE BEACH: 288/55713
Yeah, I’m really tired. Up too late, up too early, going to bed early tonight and sleeping in.
I wasn’t really surprised when the knock on the hotel door came, except that it took so long. I hadn’t been joking when I told Lucas that trouble followed guys like me around. Heck, this time it had even waited until I had gotten a glass of wine around me. Wine! It really was a vacation.
So it was with only a little bit of an eye-roll that I got up to answer. “Look, compadre,” I started saying as I opened the door, “whatever you’re up to down here, it’s nothing to do with me—”
And that’s when the gal tried to slap a mickey on me.
Patreon Microfiction: Ain’t Your Business.
He provides a necessary and valuable service for the community. He does not overcharge for his services. He is scrupulous in adhering to local law, customs, and moral codes. So, indeed, what he does with the fruits probably Ain’t Your Business.