First up, steampunk pirate captain.

This next one I did some extra mods on. Most of my readers will have no idea what I’m talking about, but I though the sculpt for Drake MacBain from Warmachine looked pudgy, dumpy, and he had a small head.   And I really wanted to be able to use him for my army.

http://privateerpress.com/warmachine/gallery/mercenaries/warcasters/drake-macbain

So I reposed him, tweaked the arm position a bit, green stuffed in the gaps, sawed his head off, put a larger helmet on (from a Nomad warjack), and had him standing on some gears taken from a broken printer.

So this is what it looks like now, still needs a bit of painting and some vegetation on the base.

We are getting close!

If you would like to read all of these in one convenient place, along with a bunch of additional game related stuff, behind the scenes info, and detailed session recaps, I’ve been posting everything to one thread on the L5R forum, 
http://www.alderac.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=295&t=101206

We pick up after our 2 year time break. Because the PCs were witness to the attack on the imperial heir, and that is a state secret, they have been picked by the shogun for a special mission. Scholars have found a drawing of the odd gaijin dagger which injured the Imperial heir in Tsuma, on an inventory list from the Imperial Museum of Antiquities. The only problem is that the museum is withing the nightmare ruins of the former capitol city, Otosan Uchi, which has been abandoned for generations and infested with demons.

This week’s episode is by Steve Diamond.

Continued from:
http://larrycorreia.wordpress.com/2013/05/31/the-drowning-empire-episode-22-summons/

Otosan Uchi: Where Nightmares Fear to Tread

I knelt before the shrine, just glad that I was able to do so again. Just glad that I was alive. I let the monks cleanse my body with blessed water, relishing the feeling—perhaps it was mental, perhaps not—of the Taint and evil being scrubbed away.

Otosan Uchi was a nightmare. No, it was the nightmare that nightmares dream about in the night. The ruined city was a festering pit of monsters and terrors, and we didn’t encounter the worst it had to offer. I closed my eyes to try and forget.

You will forget nothing, descendant.

I repressed a sigh. My ancestor, Satsujin, was back after abandoning me following the events of the museum.

You are lucky I didn’t abandon you permanently, Uso, he continued. I do not put up with stupidity.

Please instruct me on my failings, ancestor, I replied internally. There was no animosity in my thought. I really did want his instruction.

You went into the museum, he said. I could feel the incredulity in his words. You put yourself in needless danger. Explain to me how this was not a failure?

I do not mean to show disrespect, ancestor, I said. But you were not there to see the horrors I experienced. Something in there blocked you out. By the time I noticed, it was too late, and then it was literally impossible to escape. I had no choice but to remain and fight by my fellow samurai.

There was a hesitation, as if Satsujin was considering my words and actions in a different light.

Tell me all that happened, and I will judge.

I let my mind wander back to the events in the ruins. As the monks continued their work, I let my memories bubble to the surface and showed my ancestor everything.

***

The ruins of Otosan Uchi were telling to Ikoma Uso’s eyes. He could see the opulence that had once been the Imperial Capitol. The high structures. The statues. The vegetation.

But now it was all gone.

Buildings were missing walls, the great rents in their corpses made by hundreds of shugenja over years of strife. Once proud statues were now marred and crumbled, and they took on a sinister and demonic cast in the weak and sickly light of the day. It was as if the sun’s light felt uncomfortable in this Tainted relic of a city, and had left to find a more friendly welcome elsewhere.

The roads—where there were any—faded into shallow streams of fetid water as the group delved deeper into the ruins. In that water Uso would occasionally see a slight ripple. Not from a breeze, for the wind and its welcome touch were not allowed in this place. No, this was from something—or somethings –that dwelt just below the surface, waiting for unwary prey.

Yotsu Ueda, of the Sword of Yotsu, led the group quickly and quietly through the shattered streets, and around the unsafe waters. Uso respected him. The man lived in danger every day. He knew this land as well as anyone. Though he kept the group away from any overt dangers, Uso could feel oppression settling on him with every step. They were being stalked, he was sure. Every so often Ueda would pull the group to a stop. The rest of the group would cast furtive glances around, looking for the source of trouble. But Uso saw the dangers. Oni. Ogres. Things with scales. Things with too many appendages. The big ones were the most impressive—not because of their size, but for how quietly they moved.

Ueda took the group through a water garden where the feeling of menace was so tangible that it weighed on the group like heavy blanket. Uso leapt from one patch of solid ground to the next with relative ease, and noted that Oki did it equally well. The others, miraculously, were able to do the same. In those pools of water Uso could sense the creatures just waiting for one tiny mistake. But they made none.

Surely the Fortunes guide our steps, Uso thought. Or we are just damned lucky. Yeah, the second option sounds about right…

Then the domed structure of the museum was before them.

Even in its current state of decay, the building was an impressive piece of work. It would have been a featured piece of the city once-upon-a-time—a beacon of knowledge in a city that showed the might of the Empire.

And like that Empire, it was now a hulking wreck. Cracks on the outer walls fairly well bled the corruption from within. How far the Empire has fallen, Uso thought. This patch of ground in our own lands, and no matter the lives we expend on it, these ruins and this knowledge will never be reclaimed fully.

Uso cast a critical eye about the ruin. Better to excise it like a blighted wound. Raze it to the ground and scorch the earth.

The smell here was far worse than by the walls that kept the Tainted monsters and evil away from the rest of the land. Here the smell was a queer mixture of excrement, rot, and animal odor. The mix was enough to make Uso want to gag. Beneath it all was a roiling feeling of evil coming from that domed building.

“We go inside,” Toranaka said.

Uso looked into the faces of each of his companions, judging their anxiety. Nervous all, but anxious as well. Shintaro seemed to actually be enjoying this, like it was a tour of the historic district of Toshi Ranbo. Like this would all get written off as some sort of joyful romp later. A grand adventure.

Real adventurers die, Uso thought. Their enjoyment makes them unaware of the enemy slowly suffocating them.

The heavy sense of evil was far stronger once the group entered through the once-grand doors that now hung like discarded trash. The smell of mold and rot was far stronger here, and the ground squelched sickeningly under their feet.

That was the only sound other than steady breathing.

Paint, where it had once decorated the walls and pillars in colorful richness, now looked sickly. Like it was peeling away, being stripped off by the air. By the evil. Paintings and tapestries that doubtlessly had been priceless beyond measure now were half eaten away by decay. Some sort of…material…covered the walls and floor as the group penetrated further into the gloom. To Uso it looked like a slime of some sort. A goo unlike any he had ever seen before. In other circumstances he would have taken a sample to study for poisonous properties. But now…

…but now something told him it would be a fatal error.

It was at that moment when the whispers started.

The whispers began like a light itch in the back of his mind. A light rustle of dry and desiccated leaves. Rocks crumbling into dust. The wind blowing through dead, bare branches.

At first, they were nothing worth noting, and beneath Uso’s attention. He was here to look for information on that dagger that had stabbed the Imperial Heir, and that was what he was going to find. What the Shogun wanted, the Shogun received. The Shogun was an ally worth cultivating. After all, who knew what the future would bring?

With every step deeper into the ruined museum, the whispers grew stronger. Their words were unintelligible.

Ancestor? Uso asked. What are these voices?

He waited a few moments, but received no response.

Ancestor?

Nothing.

Satsujin was…gone. Uso probed the mental line where he knew his ancestor always seemed to be as of late. Satsujin wasn’t exactly gone. More like…blocked.

The voices faded, and Uso was left with the impression that they had nothing for him.

Odd…

He looked around at his companions. To the man, they stared glassy-eyed at random bits of art. Oki stared at paintings. Isao at scrolls. Shintaro at a suit of armor. Subotai at a bow. Torakana at a banner. Our guide, Ueda, at a statue. What these men saw in those items was beyond Uso. The paintings and scrolls were mostly decayed. The armor rusty and the bow useless. That banner was soiled and barely hanging together by its threads. The statue was just an indistinct lump of eroding stone.

And yet they each looked at the items as if they were glorious treasures. As if they promised unseen power and wealth.

Is this what those whispers promise them?

Why do they not attempt to fool me?

Uso tried nudging Oki, then shaking him. But nothing would pull the Mantis from his stupor. Uso thought of doing the same to Toranaka, but had a sudden idea. The Ikoma leaned in and whispered into the Akodo’s ear a battle chant. A prayer. Then Uso stood back.

Toranaka blinked, then began the chant on his own, as if it were his own idea. The words snapped each of the samurai from the trance one-by-one. Uso played along. The whispers faded, held at bay by the chanting that the group recited as one.

At the end of the hall was a gaping doorway that opened into a huge, circular room.

“This is where many of the scrolls were kept,” Ueda said.

“Then we will look here,” Toranaka said.

Before they could do any searching, a voice called out from seemingly every direction at once.

“Who has come to visit me? Who disturbs my museum?”

“Historians,” Toranaka said. “We but look for answers.”

“Who are you?” Shintaro asked.

“I am Miya Waru. I have been working here a long time. There is much work to be done as of yet, but I think I progress nicely, don’t you?”

“Of course,” Toranaka said.

Uso stole a glance behind him, and to his horror noted that the doorway was no longer there. It was gone, replaced by a wall, looking like there had never been an opening in the first place. The others caught his motion and noticed the change too.

“Seriously?” Oki whispered. Uso shook his head in resignation.

“Tell me,” Waru—the apparition that claimed to be Waru in any case—continued. “What are you looking for?”

“Information, honorable Miya,” Toranaka said. “Perhaps…you could help us?”

“Oh? And what would you trade for this information?”

“We have a new weapon that isn’t of this land!” Shintaro said. Everyone’s eyes turned as one to look at Uso.

Oh come on. I’ve hardly had a chance to study it. “Yes,” Uso said, glaring at the group. “It is a…gift…for you, Miya Waru.” He slipped of his bag and pulled the weapon from his bag. The Lion’s Shadow knew of these weapons, of course, but it had been a long time since they’d had one to work with. Guns, they were called. And they used gaijin pepper. Uso had a feeling Oki knew what it was too.

“Oh.” Waru said from every corner of the room. “Oh, oh, oh. You have brought me a marvelous gift. It has been so long since I have seen one of these gaijin weapons. And in such immaculate condition. Place it before you on the ground.”

Uso did as the spirit—for he was sure that was what they were dealing with—requested. The ground seemed to fold and suck the gun down.

“What do you wish to know?” Waru asked.

“We seek a blade,” Toranaka said, and described it. “Have you seen it?”

“Hmm,” came the musing reply, followed by a rustling of paper first from one side of the room, then the next as the ghost searched his scrolls. “Oh yes, you look for the blade called ‘Corruption.’ Quite a name, no? It was found at a temple in the Ivory Kingdoms. Now that you mention it, you are the second one to ask about it. A fellow all garbed up in crimson robes and shining armor—quite a sight for a gaijin—asked about it. Then he just…took it. He angered me, but there was nothing I could do to stop him. He also made a mess of my museum.

“Oh!” the ghost exclaimed. “I have just had an idea. You have a historian among you?”

“Indeed!” Shintaro said cheerfully. Uso just looked at him. There’s no way this ends well, the Lion’s Shadow thought.

“Good,” Waru said. “You will help me clean up the mess. Then, we will go through this museum and bring it back to its former glory. Won’t that be wonderful?”

“I’m afraid we don’t have time for that,” Toranaka said.

“Oh,” Waru said, his tone changing. “But you do. And you will stay. My servants will see to that. I must continue my work, and you will help me.”

Old corpses, previously unnoticed, stood of their own accord. There was no wasted time, no moment of shock. Oki drew an arrow and loosed it before two heart beats had passed. It thudded into one of the corpses.

“Dip your weapons in jade powder!” Ueda shouted.

As one, like the group had been a unit forever, they all rushed forward to take cover behind the base of a huge broken statue. Waru’s laughter rang out from every place at once, and with it came the sounds of shuffling feet. Arrows bounced harmlessly off the statue base.

Uso unslung his own bow and dipped an arrowhead into the jade powder. He leaned out to the right and saw a group of zombies slowly advancing towards their position. On the upraised area further back were three zombies shooting bows.

And behind them, Uso thought he caught a glimpse of subtle movement in the shadows.

Uso called out the numbers, and Subotai echoed an equal number from the opposite side. Oki shot arrow after arrow into the zombies shooting back at him, and Uso chose the same targets to shoot his own arrows at. One fell, then another.

Over it all, Waru cackled hysterically.

“We need to move!” Toranaka shouted. “Subotai, guard our back. The zombies are slow, but there are too many of them.”

“I think Waru is on the elevated area to the back,” Oki said, shooting another arrow with deadly accuracy. Living beings would have died with each arrow he shot, but these undead knew no pain. They knew no wounds or weakness.

“As one, we run for stairs!” the Akodo said as a reply.

“Aim for their necks!” Ueda shouted as the group moved to break cover. “We’ve seen these before. Decapitation always works.”

There was no reply. The samurai all knew their jobs. As one they rushed out, dodging arrows. Isao hurled boulder after boulder into the undead, and Oki finished them off with arrows. A few of the zombies blocked the way, but Shintaro cleaved through their necks with ease using his bisento.

Waru finally appeared, a wraith with barely any humanity left. He charged at the group of samurai, floating above the ground. Oki’s first jade-coated arrow took Waru in the chest. Waru shrieked in pain, and behind the group, Uso noticed the wall flicker where the door should have been.

He drew his own arrow and sent it thudding into the wraith’s chest. Oki shot again and again, his last arrow taking Waru in the eye.

The Miya historian exploded into gossamer thread s of cobwebs and dust. Uso covered his ears as Waru’s death-scream tore through the air, threatening to burst his ear-drums.

***

I see, Satsujin said. Only moments had passed as the memories flowed through my mind.

Now you see why I could not just run? I asked.

Yes, he said in my mind. And you did well.

It was as much of an apology I was apt to receive. I opened my eyes and the monks were just finishing up their cleansing ritual. I wasn’t expecting anything further from my ancestor, and he didn’t disappoint.

I walked back to the quarters Yotsu Ueda had given me. The night passed slowly for me, so I used the time to see what my companions were up to.

Toranaka wrote a letter, and when he’d fallen asleep I read the contents of it. This Akodo was a good man. He wanted aid for these Yotsu, and was requesting it from the Shogun. I found I agreed with him. These Yostsu were brave men and women, and they deserved more help than they were currently receiving.

Oki was pouring over a map that was in a journal. It was easy for me to steal a glance into it after the Mantis had drowned his troubles in sake. He needed to go to the south-east, to the Sunset Tower. I recognized some of the writing in the journal as not being Oki’s own. Then I smiled, as I recognized it. Bayushi Kuronobo.

In a sake house close to our lodgings I found Isao, Subotai and Shintaro trying to wash away the memories of those nightmare ruins with sake. I’ve learned over the years that people who survive terrible situations always seem to tell the events far different from how they actually were. Sometimes the storyteller minimizes his own involvement, preferring to give credit to his companions. Sometimes the opposite was true. Shintaro was a good samurai, and he relished a chance to tell a good story. Sake had turned him vaguely boastful in a good natured way. The trip into the ruins was being told to any who would listen. Shintaro spoke of things that were said in the heat of the battles; witty lines that had the patrons laughing.

I let him have his story. Sometimes the truth isn’t worth sharing.

I returned to my room smiling. I first composed a letter to Yasuki Dokansuto to leave at a drop, asking him to give the Sword of Yotsu a discount. He would see the value in it. They brought out treasures from the ruins from time-to-time.

Not to mention the Yasuki was always on the lookout for another “friend”.

Tomorrow, I would do my best to lead our group to thinking the Sunset Tower was our ideal destination.

But it would all be their idea of course.

Because I’m just a bard.

##

To be continued next week:

Check out Steve’s Hugo nominted book review blog:
http://elitistbookreviews.blogspot.com/

I was away so missed the Friday morning Writer Nerd Game Night serial post. Darn it. First one this year.

In other news, just so you guys know where I’m at on all of the various writing things you’re wating for Warbound will be out in August, the eARC is available now. Swords of Exodus final edits are being done right now and it will be out in September. If you need some of my writing to tide you over, here’s something that most of you haven’t read, and it is pretty awesome:

http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?lt1=_blank&bc1=000000&IS2=1&bg1=FFFFFF&fc1=000000&lc1=0000FF&t=monshuntnati-20&o=1&p=8&l=as4&m=amazon&f=ifr&ref=ss_til&asins=B00C77NL0A

The MHI RPG and Employee Handbook is at the printers now, so we’re getting super close on that shipping. And yes, once that’s all wrapped up and the Kickstarter fulfilled, then we’re going to do MHI Challenge Coins.  Stay tuned.

As for what I’m currently writing, I’ve got another story for Privateer Press that’s almost finished (and it is really good if I do say so myself), then I’ve got an awesome short story for an upcoming Baen anthology called Shattered Shields (it is military fantasy) and the cool part about that one is that it is set in the epic fantasy world I’ll be writing for Baen later.  Then it is the one you’ve all been waiting for, Monster Hunter Nemesis: Agent Franks vs. The World.

And the cool part? Since I’ve quit the day job, I’ve doubled my writing time. BOOM!

So of course, my buddy Rabbit threw this together. Because why the hell not?

I’ll be there signing books for the release of Warbound in August. So if you want some autographed copies of my books you can order them through the link above, and I’ll sign them when I arrive. Don’s really good for personalized stuff too, so you can just not that in your order and I’ll add whatever you want to your book.

If you would like to read all of these in one convenient place, along with a bunch of additional game related stuff, behind the scenes info, and detailed session recaps, I’ve been posting everything to one thread on the L5R forum, 
http://www.alderac.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=295&t=101206

The two year time break is over and the characters have been called back to action by the shogun. All of them received this message:

You are required to present yourself at the Shogunate Palace in Toshi Ranbo wo Shien Shite Reigisaho on the twenty fourth day of the Month of the Goat. The Empire has need of your services for an unspecified period of time. Your daimyo has been notified of this command and you have been released from your current assignment. Tend to your affairs and then make haste for the Imperial City.

Travel papers have been included in this package. Bring a sturdy horse, and any equipment, weapons, and armor you may need for a rough journey. Where you are going, you will need them.

Hida O-Hinku, Shogun

P.S. The swamp dragon was delicious.

This week’s episode was written by Paul Genesse. Continued from:
http://larrycorreia.wordpress.com/2013/05/24/the-drowning-empire-episode-21-gifts/

Journal of Akodo Toranaka, Commander of the Fifty-Second Akodo Guards Company

First Year of the Reign of Empress Hantei Yuni

Fifth day of the Month of the Dragon, Year 1191

Last Entry in the Akodo Guard’s Journal

I shall miss my soldiers, the living and especially the dead. The past twenty-one months have seemed like a lifetime, and so far removed from the events of the Topaz Championship, which was mostly a game played by children to amuse the assembled adults.

The muddy roads I have traveled since are nothing like the carefully manicured and beautiful lands of the Crane, or like the quiet perfection of the village of Tsuma before the Dark Oracle of Water destroyed it. I have seen nothing as luxurious as the imperial barge of Hantei Mikki, which sits rotting in the muck at the bottom of the Tsuma River where I was forced to leave my left arm, and both of the swords handed down to me from my ancestors, a dishonor I shall carry forever.

However, I refuse to admit that anything more than a part, a limb only, of my soul was lost on that Night of Evil. The rest of my body, and especially my mind, are still strong. My heart beats like one of the great taiko drums, much stronger and faster than it did in those first three months after I was forced to maim myself or drown in blackness.

Without the support of my best friend, who is still officially my hostage, the blade master and horse master, and scout master, Moto Subotai, I could not have accomplished so much. I owe him my life several times over now, as do all of the bushi, but I owe him so much more.

Subo has been my Gunso, my bodyguard, my sword master, my teacher about horses and even poetry, but most importantly my friend. He has killed men for insulting my honor in duels he should not have been fighting, but the ronin bandits do not ask permission, they insult and then they attack us in the streets when we ride into villages. Subotai defends me with a quick word, and then he kills without hesitation. His blade strikes as fast as lightning from the Heavens.

I am not as fast as Subotai, but I am a student of his technique, and several ronin have made the mistake of facing me in combat, thinking I was an easy target. In these past months Subotai and I, along with the soldiers of the Fifty-Second Akodo Guards have eased the drought in our own way, spilling much dishonorable blood to feed the parched earth.

The bushi under our command would follow us even into the Shadow Lands now, but when Subo and I first met them, they would not follow us to a sake house with the promise of free drinks. The cast offs of the Lion Clan I was sent to command had a foul reputation, and were given the worst, and most mundane of duties, but in time they became a potent force of true samurai warriors. The Fifty-Second are now all excellent riders, archers, infantry, and scouts. They treat the peasants with the respect they are due, and dispatch bandits swiftly and without unnecessary preamble. I hope their next commander will use them properly and that he or she will not spend their lives trivially.

I have grown fond of them, not all of them, but still, they served me well, and I will make it known to whomever replaces Subotai and I that we will be watching closely, and that both of us will take it as a great personal insult if the Fifty-Second is dishonored or used badly. With Subotai’s increasing reputation, and my own connections in the Lion Clan, I think this veiled threat will be effective.

When we first met the men, I did not know for certain if my first command would be successful. Now, after all this time, Subotai and I have proved everyone wrong and gained much honor and glory for our accomplishments. The supply routes in our district are safer than they have ever been. No food has been stolen in months, and the peasants are as content they could be in such difficult times when the rains are so infrequent.

Most importantly, the small army of bandits known as the Forest Killers are all dead, their leader, Sinjo-Black Eyes, is dead, slain by Subotai’s katana. The rest of the bandits are fertilizing the fields that will feed the villagers’ oxen. No more harvests will be taken, and no more peasants or samurai will starve.

Hunger feels the same to low or high born, though I must tell the truth, the peasants endure it much better than most of those born in my class. I shall never again take having enough food to eat for granted.

It is with a heavy heart that I will leave these bushi, with whom I’ve suffered alongside for so long. After our first major victory, when I led them to overcome a numerically superior force of heavily armed ronin, they wanted to call themselves “Tora’s Tigers,” as if these men were somehow unworthy of being true Lion Clan. That was how many of them felt when Subo an I arrived. Not any longer. I forbid the nickname, for none of us are mere tigers. We hunt as a pride, together, not some silent predator in the forest.

The land needs to see our strength, just to know that the law of our new Empress, Hantei Yuni, is still strong. I have heard of peasant uprisings, food riots, and much discontent, similar to what I have seen in my own district. I have done all I could to keep the peace.

I have also sent a message to the son of the empress, my friend Mikki, giving my condolences about the death of his grandmother, and reaffirming my vow to support him and his family in any way I can. I still think of the moment when I learned that my friend, Bayushi Arashii was actually the Divine Grandson of the Empress.

The Most Honored Son of the new Empress and Heir to the Emerald Throne has not replied, but I am only a young man, not even twenty until next summer, and he is busy with affairs of the Imperial Court.

I have sent other letters to my friends from the Topaz Championship. I worry, as I have not had a letter from my friend Suzume Shintaro in several months, and hope he has not been slain while protecting the Miya Heralds as they travel to the far reaches of Rokugan. Perhaps my letters have not found him?

Ikoma Uso has also been silent and I wonder what has kept him from writing for so long, when at first he sent encouragement quite often, especially when Subotai was helping me heal and learn to fight one handed before I took command of the Guards and during the first few difficult months at our posting. I hope that Uso has had success finding out who it was who tried to assassinate me at our gempukku, first with poison then by the hand of those foul ronin. The note Uso recovered from the ronin leader in the swamp had some clues that Uso said he was pursuing. I am uncomfortable with him risking his life to find out who my secret enemy is, but Uso was also attacked by the assassins in the swamp. Whoever wanted me dead has not come out here to find me. If they had, Subo and I would have been ready.

No word from Oki, but the Pleasure City where he has taken up residence has a habit of swallowing men for years. I can only hope that his love of sake has not ruined his aim, for I believe that his talents will be needed by the Empire soon enough.

Tamori Isao assures me that he has learned much in the past two years about our enemy, the Dark Oracle of Water, and I look forward to the day when I see my friend again, and we can face Rokugan’s greatest enemy shoulder to shoulder. I shall keep the burn scars on my stump hidden as much as I can, but I do wish to show him that I am whole again in spirit, if not body.

Tomorrow, before Subotai and I leave, I will visit some of the shrines that the peasants have built for our soldiers who died defending these distant farmlands and narrow roadways. I shall miss these poor folk who have shown us so much respect, and cared for us when we were sick, starving, and injured. Their endurance of the daily rigors of life is inspiring and enlightening.

The bushi under my command have also taught me much. The lessons I’ve learned in logistics, scouting, cavalry tactics, avoiding ambushes, and most importantly, fighting boredom while on duty, will inform the rest of my career.

Now I will report once again to my Daimyo, Akodo Shigatoshi in Shiro Akodo. The last time I met with him, two long years ago, I offered to commit seppuku for losing my swords and for failing to protect the then Divine Grandson, Hantei Mikki.

My most merciful Daimyo refused my request, and instead granted me a new ancestral daisho, a katana and a wakizashi crafted specifically for me, a man with one arm. I hope he believes I have served him well in this post which I asked for, as it was the lowest and least desired in all the Lion Clan holdings.

When I meet Honorable Akodo Shigatoshi, I shall bow low, lay my swords at his feet when I respond to his summons, and I shall accept whatever assignment he gives me now without question. In my heart, I hope that he will send me against the enemies of Rokugan, for I wish to erase the dishonor of the Night of Evil, and prove to all that this Lion is not without claws.

To be continued next week:
http://larrycorreia.wordpress.com/2013/06/14/the-drowning-empire-episode-23-city-of-nightmares/

For Paul’s most recent real writing check this out:
http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?lt1=_blank&bc1=000000&IS2=1&bg1=FFFFFF&fc1=000000&lc1=0000FF&t=monshuntnati-20&o=1&p=8&l=as4&m=amazon&f=ifr&ref=ss_til&asins=098892305X

Hard Magic won last year. That’s two best audiobook awards in a row. Awesome.

 My friend Tom is putting together this web series on the Pinkertons. Check it out.  Watch the video. I talked to them a bunch at ConDuit last weekend. They’re a good bunch trying to do something original and fun.