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April 13, 2020

From “The Family Hogarth” by Blythe Hilson

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Judd Hogarth
The latest in a long line of hog farmers, Judd began his own farm with only two things: a plot of land and Squiggles the Wonder Pig. He has been devastated by Squiggles’ disappearance, and maintains that his prize sow has ascended to be matriarch of a celestial piggery owned and operated by the Watcher. Uncommonly neat and personable for a hoggist, Judd is a master salesman so long as he doesn’t have to deal with children, which he considers to be the true pigs of the world.

Dagny Hogarth
Judd’s bride, Dagny is new to the hogging trade, having come from a family of poulters instead. Despite initial hardships, she has remained steadfast and loyal to Judd, if less so to Squiggles the Wonder Pig. In fact, some attribute Squiggles’ mysterious disappearance (or ascension) to her jealousy. Her occasional bouts of pig-related melodrama aside, Dagny nevertheless wants to have kids despite Judd’s opposition, even if she does sometimes forget to feed the family she already has.

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April 12, 2020

From “Swampflower” by Norris Suncress

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“She’s the flower of our swamp” the orcs utter with pride
When Swampflower’s in bloom, best have caution on your side
Orcs from miles around will descend upon her wilds
To fight one another for the honor of siring her child
Win or lose it matters not for eight to nine months hence
A war raid for baby shower follows as a consequence

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April 11, 2020

From “The Brinson Hoard: Daggers of P’theyj” by Mariana Brinson

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The two small ornate daggers are in stiletto or “rib-slipper” form, each with a crossguard made of baroque finials and a handle that resembles an armed knight in a sentinel position. Both weapons are identical, though Dagger B has has its blade bent slightly over the years. Neither come with a sheath, though there are pictures of sheathes that have been custom-fabricated for them.

“P’theyj” isn’t inscribed anywhere on the daggers–indeed, they have no known markings at all, which has complicated any estimate of their age. Rather, they were given that name by a prior owner, Giuseppe d’Angelo, a silversmith in Venetia who bought the daggers as part of a scrap consignment from the Ubrezzi estate.

In letters to his colleagues and family, d’Angelo wrote a fanciful version of the daggers’ history, including possession by Charlemagne and other factors that are unlikely given the design and patina of the weapons. He further added that they had been forged for one “P’theyj” who would yet claim them, insisting that the name belonged to a future owner that had not been born yet and was of a species not yet evolved. His will insisted that “P’theyj” be given rights to the daggers, but they were instead sold at auction, passing hence into the Hoard,

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April 10, 2020

From “The Imprint” by Blythe Hilson

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Buckbark continued eating his sandwich, unaware–or not caring–how uncomfortable it seemed to make Mujiff.

“The problem is, we usually place a Series 10 with a target for one of two purposes. Intelligence-gathering, or assassination.”

“I don’t need a lecture on your unit’s questionable wetwork,” Mujiff said. “I need a reason for Unit 10-11 going around attached to a real family, one on whom there is no intelligence and no kill order in the databases!”

Another long, leisurely bite followed. “Well, it’s simple. 10-11 has implanted on them,” Buckbark said, mayonnaise dripping from the corners of his mouth. “It was probably subjected to a shock–electrical, physical, magnetic–which rebooted it and allowed it to imprint on whoever found it.”

“I see,” Mujiff said. “And placing these Series 10s…how is that done?”

“It’s the old story about a changeling,” said Buckbark. “We take the target’s biological child, do a quick and dirty brain-dump, and replace them with a Series 10. The child gets a wet-wipe and goes into the foster pipeline, and the Series 10 arranges for itself to be destroyed along with its targets. If it’s an assassination; intelligence-gathering is just a matter of reversing the brain-dump and wet-wipe, of course.”

Mujiff leaned over Buckbark’s desk. “Are you telling me,” he said, “that there’s a Series 10 out there, with a family that may or may not have been targeted, and that it has imprinted on them?”

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April 9, 2020

From “The Rage of Takenaka Akira” by Koji Umebayashi

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Takenaka Akira swung his sword again, a weak, wild blow that Chihiro easily parried with the Unmei no Fuguhiki.

“Always the favorite,” he snarled. “The best apprenticeship, the best skills, the apple of our parents’ eye. And what was left for me? You took even my good-for-nothing son.”

“I am sorry,” Chihiro said. “You must know that my thoughts have ever been with you since our separation.”

“Your thoughts?” Akira lashed out with his blade again, drawing a drop of blood as Chihiro moved the blow aside. “I couldn’t eat your thoughts, brother! I couldn’t hear them! Would it have wounded the great and beloved chef-in-training to send his brother money? Or even a letter?”

“I was busy. With my studies.” With each parrying blow, Chihiro’s grip on the Unmei slackened. “I didn’t think-”

“Finally a bit of truth,” Akira snarled. “You didn’t think. I was just some abstract thing to you, not a real flesh and blood brother! I did what I had to do to survive, while you grew fat on the dishes you made!”

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April 8, 2020

From “Real True Authentic Facts About Cardinals” by Levi Paris Schroeder

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The northern cardinal’s scientific name is Cardinalis cardinalis. A group of two or more males in called a conclave. Every few years, a very large conclave will gather. The cardinal that wins the election will become the bird pope, and grow a coat of pure white feathers with a crest that is much larger and tinged with gold.

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April 7, 2020

From “The Lights of Layyia” by Lucy Y. Shantell

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Pexate and Layyia, the “warring brothers” or “squabbling sisters,” were once both part of the great Crimson Empire. As imperial power crumbled, Pexate was the first to be abandoned, while Layyia was close to the imperial heartlands and remained loyal to the Emperor until the final collapse nearly a thousand years later. That lengthy separation led the two kingdoms, of otherwise similar size and climate, to take sharply divergent paths.

Guarded by the mountains that form its border with Layyia, Pexate developed an independent streak with a great deal of power concentrated in the hands of the nobility. In Layyia, however, the kings were much more successful at imposing their will on their nobles. Perhaps this was because of their (supposedly) direct descent from the last of the Crimson Emperors; in any event, Layyia remained secure under a number of strong kings until the Layyian Plague, which saw five monarchs in five years succumb, including the infamous “year of three kings” in which King Fraen V reigned for only 88 days.

The death of so many senior claimants to the throne, and plague’s privations elsewhere, kept the Layyians from interfering in the affairs of their neighbors for some time–they never attempted to invade during the ten years of Uxbridge’s Anarchy, for instance, nor did they attempt to end the Most Serene Republic of Pexate which followed. Rather than regional barons asserting their authority, the various dukes, marquesses, and earls of Layyia instead backed a variety of candidates to the throne in an ongoing hot-and-cold civil war.

Chroniclers have called these claimants the “Lights of Layyia,” often depicting them as candles in a candelabra. This was both because the claimants represented some of Layyia’s brightest stars, and because they had an unfortunate tendency to be snuffed out.

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April 6, 2020

From “Seeds of Quarantine” by Anonymous

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The sprouts are here
Bidden by our hand
Stretching out from seed
To sky

Is it vain to hope that
They grow strong and tall
Bearing such fruit
That branches droop

For we have never needed
More urgently than now
Food to spring forth
From a loving earth

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April 5, 2020

From “Rrenko the Iparral” by Sandra Cooke Jameson

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Of all the amh, birds that were neither predator nor prey to the sparrows, the iparral, or cardinals, were the most likely to treat with sparrows and not to fight with them. So long as there was ample food, the cardinals and their brides would suffer the sparrows to be near them and to converse.

So Lwyr sought their counsel, specifically that of Rreko, a cardinal who had lived in the area for many years and had raised three broods a year, like clockwork, with his bride.

“Tell me, please, if you have a moment, what I should do about the nest-intruders, the cowbirds,” Lwyr said. “They have laid their egg in my beloved’s nest, and she is beside herself with worry.”

Rreko cracked an oily seed open with his great orange beak and chewed on the contents, meditatively. “They have bedeviled us more and more,” he said. “But we accept it as a fact of life.”

“What happens with the chicks you raise?” Lwyr pressed. “What happens as they grow?”

“We do our best with them, and they care for us in their fashion, but they always speak in a foreign tongue from the nest, it seems, and when our fledglings scatter they never return, seeking instead their own kind. I suppose all sons and daughters are the same, in that way.”

“What if they could be made to stay, for us that flock?”

“Well, they do flock sometimes, usually in the spring, but they are such rude, garrulous creatures that they would not fit in with a flock so…delicate…as yours.”

“What if they could?”

“I would say that is a fool’s dream,” Rrenko said, cracking another nut. “It is as if asking what if the sun were edible.”

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April 4, 2020

From “Of the Symph” by Amanda Elton

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Like their close cousins, the apoc, the symph are tall and proud, equally at home as farmers or warriors. But unlike the individualistic apoc, who move about singly or in small bands when they are not living as the guests of others, the symph are a mutualistic species–the Sisterhood, as they called themselves.

Building great hive-cities, the symph were ruled by a queen that was mother to nearly the entire population, though some would have co-regent daughters to smooth the transitions between generations. Males were rare, and though they were stronger than females and made excellent warriors, they consumed vital resources while offering little in return and wer therefore only hatched for breeding purposes, sent to other hives to cement alliances and keep inbreeding at bay. The other symph were all sisters–hence “the Sisterhood”–and their close relationship gave them all a degree of mutual empathy bordering on telepathy.

The apoc and others have occasionally accused the symph of being an uncreative hive mind, a mass of interchangeable and faceless clones. This is, however, not true; many symph are passionate and artistic, but their culture does place a great deal of importance on maintaining the unified front of the Sisterhood. Disagreements happen and outliers exist, and it is a culture that values and allows for personal freedom. But the Sisterhood requires that those differences be strictly internal and secret, guarded from all but a few close friends and allies. A remnant of when the wood was a crueler place, perhaps, or before large numbers of apoc began living among the symph as laborers, warriors, and lovers.

Individual symph can and do leave the safety of the hive and the sisterhood, but without the rare males they cannot live anything but a solitary existence. Those who do eke out such a living are not unheard of, though, and the most successful often eventually barter with other symph for males and begin new Sisterhoods of their own.

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