Morgana is positively seething by the time she finds herself in the agora. Whether the anger is simply delayed as she's been the necessary nursemaid for the better part of a fortnight, or it's been slowly percolating the whole time, she would be unable to clarify. She's been purposefully keeping the object of her anger oblivious to what's happened ( Read more... )

There is an alien addressing the agora. He looks mostly human except for a remarkable resemblance to your crazy physics professor, which he very well could be. He is wearing a brown sportcoat and occupies his hands with a classic silver Slinky ( Read more... )

there are some really good folks i know of, got their hearts in the right place. sometimes they gotta do shitty things, sometimes they think their shitty people, way of the world all that shit. but their good people, right? you can trust them to be good people. you can trust them to be there for those who need them and if they arent they gotta damn ( Read more... )

Jack has been in the agora for some time, a recently roughed-up but currently well groomed young man sitting still and unobtrusive. If there have been questions asked around him, it would be difficult to say he heard them; he certainly hasn't been answering. Just sitting ( Read more... )

Nazca liked the Nexus better when her visits were visits, and not a residency. Also, when they were voluntary ( Read more... )

She gives a little wave before she addresses... well. Anyone who may be out there, really, lurking about the amphitheatre or otherwise able to answer ( Read more... )

There's a rush of air, noisy and hot--a late July heat, filled with a cacophony of shouts and screams and clashing metal, and the thick smell of blood, spoiling meat, and sweat. It's out of this that Sagramore stumbles, his usually immaculate tunic stained with blood, sword in one hand and the other clamped over his belly to hold his insides in ( Read more... )

Somewhere in time and place within the city a motor roars. A squeal of tires later and a there is a tremendous crash followed by a flurry of curses. Someone has obviously made their arrival in Xanadu and it was not a soft landing ( Read more... )

It's hard out here for a mutant. (It really is.) Some days you end up so penniless and sad that you've got to do cheap human pet tricks on street corners to scrape up enough money for a box of instant ramen and a pack of cigarettes. Some days you end up living in the sewers or Antarctica (fuck Antarctica, man) or wherever-the-hell-else because ( Read more... )

"What the hell," Gaheris demands, with all the righteous indignation of someone who has no clue what just happened, "is a photo I.D., and why the hell would you need one for the damned banks to lend you a little money?"

This question would be less incongruous if Gaheris looked like he was from the medieval period, or even the sixteenth century ( ( Read more... )