Tag Archives: the cookhouse trumpet

The Fake Hunt, Part 17

Chucky and Mister C ran through the streets. They paused in an alleyway to get their breath back. “It had to be done,” Chucky protested between wheezes. “It had to be done. They were going to put collars on Verin … Continue reading

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The Myconet, Part 54

It was dank and musty as a time-cellar inside Collins Square Antiques but at least it was slightly better-lit, and its shelves and tables were laden with a staggering array of junk. Still, it was definitely gloomy enough to warrant … Continue reading

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The Myconet, Part 53

When we got back up into the daylight and started towards Collins square, I was pleased to note that the roads were clear and there was no sign of rising salt lake – and nary a corpse, nor part thereof, … Continue reading

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The Myconet, Part 48

The eerily fused space-time event that had once been – or would be, maybe – Colonel McOldentimes or Colonels McOldentimes directed me out of the administration office and back through the yard. It was a direction I hadn’t really gone … Continue reading

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The Myconet, Part 47

Colonel McOldentimes was sitting at the desk, and he looked up as I appeared. “Yes?” he said. I stared for a moment, then – more as a means of self-defence against what I was seeing than anything else – turned … Continue reading

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The Myconet, Part 46

The building I stepped through into – building, or cave, or something – was dark and dank and reeked of corpse-bog. The floor was sludgy underfoot, but not actual swamp. I slipped and slid through it, holding up the torch … Continue reading

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The Myconet, Part 40

“What,” I asked, fascinated in spite of the fact that I needed more complications in my life like I needed a rising salt lake full of extradimensional convict carcasses, “is an e-sig? You mean like the little chunk of text … Continue reading

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The Myconet, Part 38

By the time my eyes had adjusted to the full glare – once again, even with sunnies on it was a tough prospect – I had clambered out onto the boiling salty sand and pulled the trapdoor closed behind me … Continue reading

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The Myconet, Part 31

Here’s the other thing about the Prism. There was no way to reach it or get to it from below – not that Creepy and I were able to find on our spectacularly, nay definitively unsuccessful tour of the sub-sewers … Continue reading

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The Myconet, Part 19

I pushed myself to my feet and dusted my pants off. It was hot, and dry, and bright light shone in through the windows and through the slats in the door and a couple of other gaps – this was … Continue reading

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