To a man of Hektor's time, one electric future is as strange as any other; the Bar's decor means little to him. He finds where the Bar herself is, and bows as he always does upon his entrance. "Lady," he says, "today I have hopes of which I will not yet speak aloud. I have brought the customary offering. Should you disapprove of my plan I ask only ( Read more... )

The wound was closed enough two nights gone that Hektor made his offerings to the Lady Bar and returned to the hunt. Sure enough, they believed the prince when he claimed it only a graze from the boar's tusks. The pig was big enough that the double sacrifice to Artemis (or Bendis, as some of the men from up-country towns named her) and to Apollo ( Read more... )

The wound the boar gave him is healed enough that Hektor may claim it was no more than a graze and be believed. Time, then, to return to the hunt when this day is done. No one is likely to disturb him in his tent when he returns, so the matter of his clothes no longer being bloody and soiled will not arise; if they ask, he will say only, "I put on ( Read more... )

While there has been of late some interest in the rooms beneath the Bar proper, there are those among the patrons who would not know what to make of them were they to stumble upon the entrance. Such is only to be expected in a place that draws upon as much of time and space as this. As far as Hektor is concerned, the greater wealth is to be had ( Read more... )

Time in Milliways can be a tricky thing, as any who have come for any length of time will know. Hektor pays little heed to calendars and the like; they have little enough to do with the ways he knows of measuring time at home, after all. It was only a few days gone, so far as he can think, that he came here from the boar-hunt; if more time than ( Read more... )

The wound left by the boar, true to both Rabastan's and Kou'te-bpe's words, has not festered. In fact it has been healing well, from what Hektor can tell without removing his bandages. Today, however, it bears the mark of many a healing injury: it itches like mad. Even in the Troy of Hektor's time, they teach their children better than to scratch ( Read more... )

For all that the wound he took yesterday means he has no wish to try the Door, Hektor has never been a man for lying about and simply waiting for things to happen. He rested as best he could today, for as long as he could, and that was the end of that. Wincing and limping a little, he makes his way from the stairs to one of the couches by the fire ( Read more... )

Glitch: drill.

There's a Guardian seated at a table, drinking an energy shake as his hand and arm morph into various strange shapes.

Glitch: cutter.

He's practicing his keytool functions. At least, that's the excuse he'll give if anyone asks.

Glitch: flashlight.

In reality, he's just showing off.

The hill country in parts of Dardania is wild, and rough; there are beasts living there that one might well think had survived somehow from the age of Titans, and of the first Earth Men, who made their swords of stone. They make good hunting for a prince and his companions, as one can make a name for himself that way, and no harm done to the ( Read more... )

It is probably for the best that Halloween is past by the time Hektor finds the door to the Bar again; the prospect had loomed large for a while of turning him green and huge for the sake of him shouting 'HEKTOR SMASH'. One ought not to push one's luck too far ( Read more... )