tales of the knotlands: molo 13: action

The moment the direction of everything pivots upon. One might say that it was the decision to sanction the killing, but Hardy, and many others, believed that it was the moment that the bullet struck the target. A decision was nothing without an action following close behind it. Bang: and Blanc’s brain exited the back [...]

tales of the knotlands: molo 12: to find something

Timon and Serif were at the head of the party by virtue of them having assembled it – it was not a position that either of them relished; they always preferred to be advisors and stand further back. Tonight that was not to be that way – not that there would be much cover in [...]

tales of the knotlands: molo 11: in the web

It seemed an age that they had been like this – hung upside down; paralysed; wondering what the thing which had attacked them had in mind. Cairn could hardly credit that they had been trapped, of all things, by a damned shining light. What were they? Children? Stupid animals? Hung upside down, all the blood [...]

tales of the knotlands: molo 10: workings

An engineer – a worker of miracles. He supposed that apart from the mercenaries he was one of the few people who had come here after the fire. Where most might see a disaster area he saw fertile ground for opportunity. He’d come here before, way back in the day, before the strangeness had totally [...]

tales of the knotlands: molo 9: a working girl

Not easy being a streetwalker in a place that had burnt down to the ground and had been taken over by all kinds of insane relgious and magical sects. Not easy being a drug runner in a place that was like a bad acid trip – what drugs could top the shit that you could [...]

tales of the knotlands: molo 8: tarnished silver

He knew it – they all knew it: the so-called Silver Guard were out of their depth and they had been from the start. Originally they had been set up just to deal with the wolves because the wolves had seemed the most pressing of the many problems that the inhabitants of L’undone faced, but [...]

tales of the knotlands: molo 7: chrysalid

This place had once been a church, it’s flock scattered, but apparently still at large. They hadn’t returned here since they had removed the sacred artifacts to safe-keeping, and how long ago was that? He wasn’t sure – sometimes the days here were as dark as the nights; stormheads always gathering, touching the denizens below [...]