Marsha’s Reviews > Triumff: Her Majesty's Hero > Status Update
Marsha
is on page 81 of 384
"What was that?" she asked.
"Cats," said Triumff. "Cats fighting. That's all."
It wasn't. In the coal-blackness of the alley stood a bruiser of a ginger tom called Rusty, who owned Mistress Mary. Under normal circumstances of alarm and agitation, Rusty would inflate himself to three times his normal size. Right now, he was so scared, he clean forgot, and exited into the lane.
— Aug 01, 2014 08:00AM
"Cats," said Triumff. "Cats fighting. That's all."
It wasn't. In the coal-blackness of the alley stood a bruiser of a ginger tom called Rusty, who owned Mistress Mary. Under normal circumstances of alarm and agitation, Rusty would inflate himself to three times his normal size. Right now, he was so scared, he clean forgot, and exited into the lane.
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Marsha
is on page 335 of 384
There were two lumpy shapes in the yard in front of the entrance steps. De Quincey took them to be piles of rubbish, until he stooped to check.
The lumps were men. Or they had been men. They had been guild men, drome workers of the Old Union.
Something had melted them, and the remains of their robes were flecking away from the distorted bodies in the night breeze.
"They tried to stop him," de Quincey mumbled.
— Aug 03, 2014 10:55AM
The lumps were men. Or they had been men. They had been guild men, drome workers of the Old Union.
Something had melted them, and the remains of their robes were flecking away from the distorted bodies in the night breeze.
"They tried to stop him," de Quincey mumbled.
Marsha
is on page 146 of 384
Jaspers stalked into the Solar, glancing around at those present with hooded eyes. "Gull."
"Divine, our investigations cross again."
"There's nothing like an abominable crime to make everyone pull together," Jaspers said, wandering over to the desk and helping himself to a glass of claret.
— Aug 02, 2014 07:52AM
"Divine, our investigations cross again."
"There's nothing like an abominable crime to make everyone pull together," Jaspers said, wandering over to the desk and helping himself to a glass of claret.
