Fichiki Siri Blog

Fichiki Siri Chapter 4

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Zushi faded back into the bright kitchen and Zosa stepped forward, the knife in his left hand, now behind his back. The stranger leaned his staff against the wall and reached into his cloak. Zosa felt himself falling suddenly, his left foot somehow sinking into the floor. He went down to one knee, dropping the knife as he went, and looked down to see that a hole had opened up in the floor itself, right under his shadow. He thought he felt fingers around the sole of his foot, and as he saw Siri twist his arm, a bolt of pain shot up his leg as … [Read more...]

Fichiki Siri Chapter 3

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Zosa didn’t recognize the Morkai from the bar, nor did he remember him from the wharf.  Nevertheless, leaning on his staff in the opening to the hallway, there the creature was, wrapped up in black shadows. “Magic, you say?” Zosa began slowly, holding his hands flat, palms facing the floor, taking a step.  ”Have you come to ply your trade with me?  Perhaps some bargain you wish to strike with me?” “Oddly enough, that’s exactly right,” the Morkai said. Zosa smiled openly.  ”Well, if it’s business, you’re in the … [Read more...]

Fichiki Siri Chapter 2

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Zosa trudged up the stairs, pulling his keys from the front pocket of his breeches.  Yawning, he thought about Zushi’s heaving breasts in his face and smiled, working the long stem of the key into the locking mechanism.  He pulled the door solidly behind him, latched the deadbolt and strung the chain across as well. The main room of Zosa’s suite was as tightly packed and claustrophobic as the rest of the Rusty Spike, with a worn pea green couch less than two feet away from the wall’s turn that led from the front door.  The couch’s … [Read more...]

Fichiki Siri Chapter 1

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Noma was a coastal city on the south east coast of Zalador, known for the balmy breezes that blew across its characteristic green limestone shores and docks. The verdant rock was almost more common than dirt in this region, and served as a foundation for the architecture and visual coherency of the area. The waves broke against the whitish green stone structures of the coastline relentlessly, never winning their eternal battle against the folly of sentience. Dusk approached on this particular day, called Plor’s Day, fifty-eighth day in the … [Read more...]