Moe Lane's Blog, page 624
December 17, 2021
12/17/21 Snippet, THE STARS ARE WRONG.
BEWARE THE RIGHT-ANGLED ONES!
Patreon!“But if you do not know where you must go,” continued Willkoad, “then let us ask the priests. Come with me: there is a church of the Dreamer nearby. I shall take you to its vicar. If anyone would know of troubles on the streets, it would be him.”
I was surprised. “What? The Church has opened a fane here?” The Dreamers were one of Seacity’s oldest faiths, and most respected; its warriors were instrumental in breaking the ancestors of the Kee in battle. They were unpopular among the Kee for precisely the same reason.
Willkoad looked pained. “Excuse me, good Guardian: here in the district it is a ‘church,’ not a ‘fane.’ I beg forgiveness for the correction, but words matter to us poor, foolish Kee. The Church has found it easier going to allow us these harmless… accommodations.”
The thought of taking counsel with a priest of the Dreamers — someone like me, if likely old-fashioned and censorious of the modern world — was a powerful appeal. Or perhaps it was simply the idea of having someone with more authority or knowledge to heed. Whatever the reason, I allowed myself to follow Willkoad as we walked deeper into the District, and its painfully straight streets. I do not know for how long, or in which direction; each corner was like the next, each street was a twin to its neighbor, and no place was distinct enough to fix itself in my memory. I was soon lost in this maze of rectangles and boxes.
The Christmas Chapbook sale has begun!
Starting today and continuing until Christmas Eve, pick up Kindle copies of my illustrated chapbooks ANAGNORISIS, REVISIONARY, and DECISIONS for only 99 cents! Each chapbook has four stories, each with its own illustration. Perfect for casual reading!
Anagnorisis: Four Tales of Transformation: HOLDOUTS speaks to the aftermath of the Vampire Wars; THE HOUSE matches a unsettling location with an unsettling protagonist; OLD LOU examines what it’s like to have a barely-controlled monster in your head; and NOTHING LIKE A GOOD BOOK introduces the occult investigatory team of Cosgrove and Stewart!Revisionary: Four Tales of the Mythos: In SIMMON’S BOOK, learn why you shouldn’t listen to anything you read. In POLLY WANT, thrill as a human being faces down a terrifying alien deathworld monster. In WICKED WHY, get it through your head that ‘Why’ is always the wrong thing to ask. And in IMPURITIES, discover some of the perils faced by the small businesswoman in a unique business environment.Decisions: Four Tales of Choices: See a card sharp play a high-stakes game of bluff and blood in PIGEON! Participate in a final funeral in LE ROI EST MORT! Watch a man battle ruffians and himself in RESCUE FROM CHATEAU D’ALÉATOIRE! And marvel at the unique fate of a man who learns too much in DEEP IN THE HEART OF SEX FISH!#commissionearned
December 16, 2021
Tweet of the Day, New @HPLHS Solstice Carol! edition.
Nice. Mind you, the HPL Historical Society is only going to be recording the one song. So maybe it’ll be free? In which case: double nice.
Matt Foyer and @witchhouserocks returned to HQ today to record a new solstice carol! Stay tuned! pic.twitter.com/M18WnpaZGm
— HPLHS (@hplhs) December 17, 2021
Revealed further! The TINSEL RAIN cover!
Admittedly, in lower resolution.
By the clever and talented Shaenon Garrity, obviously. There was a Metropolis poster I was struck by, and so we went with that as an inspiration. Danged if I know what the next cover’s going to look like. I barely know what the next book is probably going to look like, honestly. We’ll figure it out, though.
#commissionearned
Moe Lane
PS: Expect a Kickstarter for TINSEL RAIN next year. The Kickstarter money from FROZEN DREAMS has been well and truly… kicked.
12/16/21 Snippet, TINSEL RAIN.
Almost to 75K! Then I take the weekend to assess the manuscript, and use the last 5K to make the plot go good! Jesus, at this rate I’ll have another book ready for alpha/beta reading soon.
Patreon!So forget the Dominion, I told myself (and I wish!). Think about Rowan himself. What’s his angle?
Well, he was a foreigner, to start. Of course, a lot of people from here ain’t really from here originally. Shoot, half the Greek families in New California think anybody who can’t trace their ancestry back to Old Mexico is some kind of immigrant. But you get live and let live. Play by Cin City rules, and you’re golden.
But Rowan didn’t like our rules, did he? He was only here because he and his crew got chased out of the Dwarvenwood — and I was ready to bet that Rowan wasn’t from the ‘Wood, not really. His wardrobe and attitude was right out of the badlands, only that wasn’t a real popular place to be from, these days. Too many horror stories from Mormon refugees.
So. Foreigner. And the kind who wouldn’t like New California at all. Mages are rare on the ground in the badlands, because the Dominion hunts them down, and kill anybody who helps them run. And the ‘Wood doesn’t have mages, just priests of… whatever the ‘Wood is. I don’t know. I just know it likes to eat demons. Point is, there just ain’t any good magic up there, if you’re the criminal type.
Coming here must have been one hell of a shock. Magic everywhere, right out there in the open. Powerful guilds locking up all the really good crime, and they all had these rules that got in the way of an enterprising businessman. They had plenty of juice with the government, too. Everything was nice and respectable, and maybe just a tiny little bit smug about it all.
12/16/21 Snippet, THE DOOM THAT CAME TO LUNA CITY.
Rescue!
Patreon!The pinprick bite of a quick-stim shook Tobias back awake, but not to full coherence. For one long moment he could perceive his surroundings, but not understand them. He had no memory, no name, and no identity, and could not even articulate the helplessness he felt. But then he heard Asenath murmur, Commander Tobias Marsh? in his ear, and it was as if all of his consciousness poured into that name, and what it represented. He was himself again.
Admittedly, he felt like crap warmed over, but that was the new normal. “What happened?” Tobias managed to croak, but even saying that much spiked thin lines of pain down his throat. He went back to sub-vocalizing: What was that? Some kind of contaminant?
A better word would be ‘parasite,’ Commander. It definitely showed signs of life. It certainly did not want to be dissolved in the suit’s sanitation system. Asenath sounded thoroughly grim now. Not that I let that be a consideration. Did it attack you?
12/16/21 Snippet, THE STARS ARE WRONG.
Profane geometry!
Patreon!I expected hard looks or even stealthy blows from the Razor District. Was I not a Guardian, rushing in where twelve of my fellows had fallen? But no hand was raised against me as I plunged into its terrifying streets. I did not even feel the weight of hostile eyes upon me as I headed towards where I guessed the bell-clangour had come.
But even if I was not impeded, I was not welcome, either. The Razor District has no love for the rest of the world, and it particularly disdains those of us who keep the world as it should be. Here the modern world was permitted to intrude only grudgingly, and with strict fetters on what it might do. There were places where the streets themselves had been broken down and remade, to ape the ancient roadways. The buildings themselves seemed deformed, all edges and lines, with too-large windows that seemed to try to drink up all the gloom.
And the plants! The Kee had planted strange shrubs and small trees from their valleys and mountains; their scents mingled badly with the smell of the ocean. Even their grass — what the Kee used it for was a mystery — was not proper grass. It grew everywhere it could, even in the cracks in the stones themselves. It was believed in the city that once Kee-grass had taken root in your neighborhood, the Kee would soon follow, despite all anyone could do to wash it away. I had heard that some rich, jaded fools even kept tame fields of it, solely to deliciously scandalize their neighbors. I doubted they had ever seen Kee-grass in its wild, disciplined state.
December 15, 2021
12/15/21 Snippet, TINSEL RAIN.
The street! Also, two or three more days and I’ll be at 75K words. Then I can get started with re-breaking some of the text so that it’ll heal cleanly this time.
Patreon!So there was a lot of ugly out there tonight. It wasn’t on the streets, though. If it was on the streets the cops and the Flatfoots would be breathing easier. They had procedures for that. Look for the hotheads, get ‘em by themselves before they set somebody else’s head on fire, too. Keep the fights local, and fists only. And when it came to anybody wanting to agitate: well, a sap in time saves nine. That’s what they did, the last time the Syndicate and the ATSE wanted to rumble, and it worked.
Would it work now? Maybe, maybe not. Thing about the cleaning ladies and the artisans is, they’re smart. They gotta be, to do what they do. And when smart people get dumb enough to wanna throw down, they just lose their judgment, not their cunning. This wouldn’t be two sets of pandilleros slamming into each other for an excuse for a fistfight, and maybe a dance number or two. These were boys and girls with a serious skill set, and who were ready to do unto others before the others did unto them.
Yeah. The ugly wasn’t on the streets. It was in nice meeting rooms that hadn’t been cleaned or aired out in a couple of days, where the same arguments and mutterings had been said over and over again, until they were as stale as the cigarette smoke. Or it was on rooftops, nice and away from any voices of reason that might feel like stopping by. Hell, by now it might even be visiting the richest offices in either group, and if happened Cin City was screwed.
