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October 3 - October 10, 2025
“No dumb bastard ever won a war by going out and dying for his country. He won it by making some other dumb bastard die for his country.”
This is a human. This one is something called a Canadian. Part French. Part maple syrup. He’s weirdly obsessed with ice hockey and snowmobiles and semi-erotic lumberjack fan fiction. Has a well-worn Tim Hortons loyalty card in his Velcro wallet. He says “aboot” instead of “about” and gets really, really upset when you point it out, claiming you’re hearing things and that it’s a harmful stereotype. It’s not a stereotype, and that’s exactly how it sounds. He has a relative who was trampled to death by a moose. You get the idea.
“Yes, Carl,” the potion bottle said, his voice deep and demonic. “Drink me. Drink me deep. Put me inside of you.” “What the shit?” I asked as Donut hissed. “That’s how you know it’s a good potion,” Mordecai said, grinning.
“You saved my life, and you saved the life of my Heidi with that black magic you did at the end of the last floor. For that, you get a kiss!”
“So,” Florin muttered, “how do you reckon that litter is gonna turn out?”
“I don’t know if I should be terrified or in love,” Florin added as we walked into the flag room.
The little girl gave me a chilling smile. “I shouldn’t have to think about killing outworlders? Why shouldn’t I? Have they stopped thinking about trying to kill me?”
I had to remind myself that these two guys were literally thousands of years old. They certainly didn’t act like it. Donut was right. They reminded me of a pair of dumb 18-year-olds who’d joined the Marines and didn’t know what the hell they’d just signed up for.
“In the eternal words of my mulleted friend, Holger. You done stuck your pecker in the wrong beehive.”
When Big Things happen on such a large scale, it’s easy to forget sometimes that these Big Things are also happening to the little things in the world.
Blood was so much more red when it was spilled from someone you loved.
Elle: Okay, am I the only one completely freaked out by these little trash goblins? Holy shit, guys. Florin: If we were back home, we’d be drowning them both in the bath right about now. Imani: Not a word, either of you. Not a word.
