Fifty-Word Fantasy, Day 7 (Riot)
The corposec phalanx made its last stand at the intersection. Three rows of lancers in formation wielding electropikes anchored into the pavement and carrying repulse-shields.
The corposec phalanx made its last stand at the intersection. Three rows of lancers in formation wielding electropikes anchored into the pavement and carrying repulse-shields.
The marshwinder recoils from my offering. It rears up to full height, forked tongue flicking. It hisses like a dying man’s wheeze. The froth in
Lot 483 continues to expand. So far, it has added three new floors, with each unit subdividing at least twice. This obviously violates the parcel’s
Alone, it drifts onward. The shining white bulb crawls through the sky at glacial pace. The predator enters stage left, screaming ahead at supersonic speed.
The Law of Redevia is clear: foundryworkers must receive every tenthday off as respite from their labors. It does not however forbid their masters from working
As the derelict barge drifts past, the Warden-of-the-Watch rubs his eyes. For a moment, he stares not at a pile of floating scrap, but an entire