Collision of Culture
I distinctly remember when the idea first popped into my mind.
Deconstructing Campaigns
Would we make the GenCon print date? A look at my final project in the Battletech line.
A Son’s Requiem (Part III)
“Or hadn’t you noticed the lack of people in the streets after the firebombing the enemy did last night? You do realize that most of the city is blackened rubble above our heads?”
A Son’s Requiem (Part II)
He exhaled slowly, releasing the tension he’d stored for the last thirty-six hours. They weren’t in the clear yet—far from it, actually—but any moment of respite was one to cultivate.
A Son’s Requiem (Part I)
Demi-Precentor Alex Emory resisted the urge to reach out and clear his cockpit screen. The gray sky was smudgy with fog—really just low-altitude clouds, this high in the mountains—and gave the viewable landscape a blurry quality that the weary MechWarrior kept trying to blink away.
Shred of Honor [Part III]
The Hellions reached optimal range halfway through their charge; several missiles clawed up the hillside towards the massive Falcon ‘Mech and crimson beams from lasers scythed across its legs. The explosions from detonating shells and autocannon fire shook the assault machine but failed to dislodge it; with rock-steady deliberation, Pryde raised his left arm and cut loose with another PPC blast, eviscerating a Cercerops.
Shred of Honor [Part II]
As he waited for the enemy below, Brian settled back into the Jupiter’s command couch. He refused to be distracted by checking his systems over for the millionth time; he trusted this ‘Mech with his life. If Fate decreed he die today in this cockpit, so be it.
Shred of Honor [Part I]
“Galaxy Commander, what I am about to ask you to do is fit only because of the special nature of your unit,” said Clees. Her face tightened into a grimace. “Even trying to put this to words is an affront to the honor of the Clan, but it must be so.”
Enter the Dragon (Almost)
Whew. Almost there.
Edge of Night
My eyes swept back and forth along the highway, looking for a sign, any sign. A single thought hammered at my mind, over and over: Why did he run?