“You’re not like most half-breeds,” she said.
He nodded. “Neither are you.”
She took the soup he passed. “You’re a heavyweight, like most half-orcs. But unlike most of my kind, there’s something about you I trust.”
“And you have a sense of humor.”
Crown of Horns
“It’s killing you.”
On his throne of welded guns, he touches the demonic crown of horns above his brow. “Yes. But with it I am the King of the World. Its savior.”
“Its savior, killing billions in genocide.”
“Savior and Satan, I am one and the same.”
Little Annette moves her rook. “Checkmate.”
“Indeed,” old witch Aga sighs. “The power of resurrection is a curse. My best friend is in a fresh game, while my board is played-out.”
“Maybe reset your pieces?” Annette asks.
“And we’ll play again.”
Instrument of Destruction
The bard patted his guitar. “This is my weapon. Music.”
“Oh,” Oi-livia said.
She drew and held aloft the Keytar Sword of Casion. “And this is mine!”
The punk-aladin sliced his guitar in two with it.
“Oi, Mate,” she said, perplexed. “That ain’t a good weapon.”
“I quit!” Teed yells. “I don’t want to die an interstellar rum-runner crossing the Prohibition Zone!”
“The smuggling hold is an undetectable design,” Dran says.
Teed points to the ad on the ship.
Dran shrugs. “So?”
“It says, HAVE AN ALCOHOLIDAY!”
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