Parson knew about as much about fire as he remembered from fire safety month in elementary school, and the occasional Weather Channel show about firefighters. He knew that fire burned upwards, and you should stay low. It needed oxygen and could, like, flashover or something. Whatever that was, it was bad. That was about it.

And who knew if any of that was even true in Erfworld, which had its own fire physics? Units caught in an inferno took damage randomly and could take a few specific actions like fleeing, fighting, and casting. There were damage penalties when moving, fighting was done at a penalty, etc. Some of it didn’t make a lot of sense with the actual physics of combustion.

So he sat on the floor, planting his ass in the empty portal, and touched his bracer. The Warlord Antium and the last four Decrypted troops were beating the flames with cloaks and rugs at the other end of the room. That had seemed pointless at first, but then he remembered something about how units taking action to fight the fire could effectively transfer their actions to a unit they were protecting.

So...he’d better do something.

For the last few minutes, he’d kinda been raging out and panicking, he realized. But Charlie’s request for a calculation had the weird effect of numbing him up and focusing his mind on this one trivial thing. It wasn’t quite the same as getting an order, but he was contractually obligated to carry out Charlie’s calculation unless it would hurt his side, and he couldn’t make a good enough case to refuse it.

Plus, whatever Charlie’s game was—trying to railroad him into using this spell—Parson needed to know this, too. Could he cast this spell? (Or any spell?) A way out was a way out, and going home beat dying. Maybe there was even a way back to Erfworld if he did...

The bracer hummed, and inside the little glass window he saw his own name in blue light:

[Parson Gotti, Warlord (Chief) (Level 3)]

Huh. Really? Three? He hadn’t felt anything at all. For a moment, he felt weirdly proud of himself for leveling. Then he blinked at the thing and subvocalized, “Hypothetical: me as a caster.”

The words changed:

{[Parson Gotti, Caster (unspecified) (unspecified)]}

There was a shout and a rumble from the other side of the room. A significant section of wall and floor began sliding down and away, churning up a shower of sparks. Parson gripped the edge of the portal until the collapse settled. He squinted. Antium had two soldiers over there now, not four.

Numbly, he looked back down and subvocalized, “Odds of: successfully casting the Carnymancy spell I’m touching.” He reached over and held Jojo’s scroll, which he had set upon the floor next to him after pulling it out of his belt.

The window showed a long decimal number, then blinked and showed a short one instead. Then it ran through a series of digits that changed every split second. Then it went blank. Then it read:

specify conditions

“What? Here and now,” said Parson.

specify target

“Me!”

Another number flashed by, too quickly to read. Then the display read 0.0

Parson looked into the display. “Izzat my odds, or are you just surprised at the question?” he said out loud.

But he knew that the bracer had just given zero probability of successfully casting the spell. Either Charlie was wrong, or he’d been toying with his prey. Although...neither thing seemed very Charlie-ish. He looked down at the lonely zero-point-zero.

Okay what now? Maybe he had phrased it wrong.

“Odds of: me as a warlord, as I am, casting this Carnymancy spell, right here and now.”

Again, a number flashed quickly, but changed to: 0.0

“Odds of: me casting any spell at all.”

multiple parameters unspecified

Parson breathed heavily through his nose, and could feel the burn of smoke in it. The partial collapse had changed the air currents. It was now getting worse by the second in here.

“True/false: a non-zero chance of me successfully casting any spell exists.”

T

“So I am a caster of some kind. Or something,” he muttered. He had explored the possibility of casting spells before, and always failed. But he’d never thought to put the question to the bracer this way. “True/false: conditions exist that would give me a non-zero chance of successfully casting the Carnymancy spell.”

T

Way out restored, then. But no clue how. “True/false: I could create conditions here and now that would give me non-zero odds of casting the Carnymancy spell.”

T, read the display.

Then, suddenly: F

“What the hell?” Parson shouted to the air. “Charlie, are you screwing with this thing, too?”

When he looked up, he saw that Antium was walking up to him. The man’s face was sooty, and both his hands looked burned. Behind him, one of the last two soldiers was on the floor with his hair on fire, yelling. The other was beating him with a cloak.

“Chief, I think we have done all that we can,” said Antium.

Parson looked up at him. There were flames right there in the ceiling now, in bits where the plaster had fallen. The crackling sound was surreal, all around his head, like the sound you hear when you roll in a pile of dead leaves. That ceiling was going to come down on them any second. God, if Sizemore could just get here somehow, he could shore that up. And fix everything else.

“I don’t think I have, yet,” he said.

With a grunt, he rose to his feet. He spoke aloud to the bracer now. “Odds of: me successfully casting a Dirtamancy spell to put out the fire.”

The window showed a number. It had a decimal and six or seven zeroes after it, but it was a number.

Parson clapped his hands and made a hocus-pocus gesture. How the hell would you cast a spell, anyway? He had certainly tried before, but never with any indication of success.

“Put out the fire!” he shouted. He stomped his foot for emphasis. Nothing.

Nah, he needed some word or phrase from his world that was associated with putting out fires. That seemed to be how it worked.

“Alka-Seltzer! Pepto-Bismol! Gaviscon!” He felt nothing. “We Didn’t Start The Fire!”

He looked around, starting to realize he was a little dizzy from smoke and whatever else he was breathing. Somewhere on another floor high above, there was a rumbling crash.

“No, I guess we did,” he said.

“It’s been an honor to fight beside you, Chief Parson,” said Antium.

“Don’t start that shit,” said Parson. “I’m not done here. I’m not.” He looked around, spotting the scroll on the floor. He bent over and snatched it up.

“Odds of me casting this spell!” he shouted at the bracer.

The same number as before flashed, then changed to: 0.0 He almost saw what it was this time.

“Again!”

Number, then 0.0. It was a long one. Hard to see the first digits. He looked at Antium, who was standing close. The other two soldiers were a few feet behind him, stepping on embers as they fell to the floor. The one whose hair had caught fire was black and burnt from the shoulders up, but he kept stomping.

“I think this thing is lying to me,” said Parson to the perplexed-looking warlord.

“Again,” he commanded the bracer. And again, a long number showed, then 0.0. There was another collapsing sound, very close this time, maybe from the next room over. That first number after the decimal was not a 0. It might have been an 8...

“Run this same calculation ten times in a row. Go.”

The blue numbers in the bracer began blinking. The 0.0 was a dimmer blue as it blinked on and off, but the other number was superimposed over it: .980104773

A 98% chance of casting success.

He looked up at Antium. There was a lot more smoke in the room now, and Parson’s eyes were stinging. The bracer was lying. It was telling him he didn’t have a chance. Why? So he wouldn’t try to cast Charlie’s spell...

“Jojo said it’s free will versus Fate,” he said. “But I’m really just getting railroaded by two different GMs here. I dunno wha— Huhg!” He broke into a coughing fit that left him bent over. Tears from his watering eyes ran down both cheeks. God damn, it was hot in here. Felt like the smoke was literally burning his lungs.

“Ah...fuggit!” he gasped, barely regaining control of his breathing.

He unbound and unrolled the scroll, holding it up in front of him. It shimmered brightly. His fingertips tingled. There were words on the parchment, a poetic stanza. But he couldn’t read them at first. He was seeing something else.

No, not seeing. More like...detecting, or knowing. There wasn’t a word for this sense, but some little compartment in his mind opened up, and what was in there was as rich in information as vision or hearing. He understood some of the things behind the things he could see.

Of course this was a spell. Of course it was. And it was built like...a key that would unlock the spell that had brought him here. He could see what it was. It was a spell to break a spell and snap it back. It would...fling him home. And he knew how to cast it.

The floor creaked, and listed slightly. He could read the poem on it now. Funny...

Yeah, it was time now. Time to go home.

He spoke, with a new understanding of how to intone the words of a spell. It was as different from plain speech as singing, but in a magical way.

“Roses are—”

The burning plaster hit his arms, just soon enough to warn him, just the barest moment before the flaming wooden beam came down on his helmet and flattened him to the floor. The magic sense—and every other sense—left Parson Gotti’s mind.

Rob's Other Comic Project: Duel In The Somme--Read it from the beginning!

But...holy booping boop. I made the project go live about 20 hours early, and only told the backers of our first Kickstarter about it as a way of giving them first crack at the limited rewards. Well, it's now time for "launch" and the first book page, and not only are we fully funded, the first stretch goal (to make video treatments of the Book 2 epilogue pages, to load at the time we update) has also been met! Thanks so much everyone!

Second stretch goal is another $2500 (to $14,500) to fly David Hahn out to GenCon Indy this summer, so that he can meet some of the amazing fans he'll be drawing this comic for. I want to have an Erfworld reader meet-and-greet at Jillian's in downtown Indianapolis, and something special for our Kickstarter donors there. David can do sketches at our booth and get an even better idea how much love is out there for our little comic universe (he was bowled over by the response to this project today).

The first page is loaded now, in smaller form. We'll be doing the letters out of order, and I figured I would start with the one we used for the project graphic. The larger format pages will load as backer-only updates, but I am on the road (visiting family, to do a Mothers Day celebration that I put off to launch). I'll load those on Friday when I return.

As of this moment, there are still some of the limited quantity donor rewards available, but they're going very fast. If you missed out on original art, we'll be offering art from Book 3 in the next one. We will do a preview for previous backers first on that one too, so pledging this project will get you a heads-up.

Once again, Erfworld readers have shown how very lucky to have you backing me up. Thank you all!

Rob's Other Comic Project: Duel In The Somme--Read it from the beginning!

Rob's Other Comic Project: Duel In The Somme--Read it from the beginning!

He stood there by the portal, trying to concentrate to get his Thinkamancer’s attention. His twoll lackey stood to one side and stared at the ceiling.

The portal glowed and flowed with swirls of green light. That thing really made him nervous. Battle didn’t scare him. Heights, either. He could jump out his office window and fly, if he had the Arkenhammer. But even if he didn’t, he could maybe call a dwagon to catch him. And he wouldn’t necessarily croak if he did hit the ground.

But if he took just a few steps forward and walked into that green rectangle, then poof. That would be it for him and his whole side. Horrible thought. He hated this room.

“Maggie!”

And why did Hamster get to go through it? That wasn’t fair.

Hamster was just weird. Disrespectful. He did whatever he wanted, and screw the rules. And what’d it get him? In trouble. Yeah, now he was all, “Waah, I’m in trouble, pleeeease change the capital of the whole stinkin’ side for me, Lord Stan-leeeee?!”

Why wasn’t Maggie answering? Maybe he was too mad to concentrate. Grr.

“Screw it.” Using his Ruler sense, he gave her an order to contact him, and waited.

And waited.

“She better hurry up,” he growled at Zhopa. “Hamster said they’ve got like two minutes.” He eyeballed his lackey, who didn’t like to say much. Stanley stared him down, daring him to make a comment.

“Two minutes, Lud?” said Zhopa, shifting his feet uncomfortably.

“Yeah, before he croaks! Before I gotta...pick out my third Chief Warlord of the day!”

The twoll stuck out his lower lip and wrinkled his eyebrows. “Lud Parson...is gonna croak, Lud?” It was the closest thing to an emotion that Stanley had seen him display. Great, another big Hamster fan.

“Well, no, probly not, knowing him. Lord Genius. You put him in a...in an impossible situation and he just goes, ‘Hurrdeedurr, I break the rules, tada! I win!” Stanley scowled. “So, let him do what he did last time. I’m not helpin’ him. Maggie!”

“Last time? What you mean? What was last time?” The Twoll leaned forward and cocked his head.

“You know!” snapped the Tool. “City was getting invaded, everything’s lost, and he just decides to blow up the mountain. Croaks half a dozen armies in one shot, with an idea he pulled out of his huge butt! So let him do something like that again.”

Maggie really should have answered by now. Something bad was going on.

“He did that?”

“Yeah,” snapped Stanley. “You popped after that, though. Nobody told you the story?

“No. Lud. He blew up mountain. This mountain. All by hisself?”

“Yeah. Well, no. He used Maggie and Wanda,” said Stanley, “and the turd guy. Seismic.”

If he couldn’t get through to Maggie, then what was he going to do now? Maybe call Wanda on the eyebook? She wasn’t here, either. Everybody wasn’t here! It was really ticking him off.

“So...he had help.”

Was that twoll still talking? Sheesh, get him started and you can’t shut him up, right? “Yeah, I guess,” frowned Stanley.

“And he want your help now?”

“That’s what I’m saying, he shouldn’t need my help!” He pointed up at the hulking mound of olive green flesh. “He’s the ‘perfect warlord!’ He’s the genius! But he wants me to run up to my office and change the capital, which is not genius, it is stupid!”

The twoll shook his head slowly. “Everybody need help, Lud. Is leetle theengs that make a difference, sometimes,” he said. “Would be a shame, he croaks.”

“Shut up,” said Stanley reflexively. But that brought up another unhappy thought: life without Hamster, huh? What would that be like?

Even more lonely around here, he guessed. And who would he put in charge? It’d be all Wanda, all the time, just like the bad old days when they were losing city after city to the Royals. He should think about exactly what he was giving up here. “You just like him,” said Stanley, waving his hand. “Everybody likes him.”

Zhopa nodded. “I like him. He’s good. I help him make a peekneek.”

Stanley clapped the Arkenhammer into his palm a few times, staring away into the corner, and felt something tumble around in his brain. If Hamster bit it now, he’d never get the chance to mentor him, maybe even groom him for his own side someday. Was there a particular reason Hamster got on his nerves so much? Nobody else seemed to have a problem with him. Everybody liked Hamster. Even the big green lumps...what was a “peekneek?”

The tumbling in his brain settled down into the strangest realization. He looked up at Zhopa.

“Yeah, I like him, too,” he said, surprised at the words even as they left his mouth. “I mean, he’s a huge pain in the butt. But he’s my pain. In my butt! I paid 350,000 Shmuckers to have this pain!”

Zhopa nodded. “You gonna do it for him then, Lud?”

Stanley narrowed his eyes. “I dunno.”

He turned and paced, thinking it over some more. Changing the capital was such a drastic move. Spacerock was waaay out on the edge of Gobwin Knob’s domain now. As strong as his side was, they had really extended to reach it. Even getting out there to switch the capital back would be a problem. There were lots of good reasons not to.

“I mean, it’s even a long way up to the office,” he said, looking up at the ceiling. “Lotta stairs, y’know? Doubt I could even make it up there before...y’know. Before he burns up.”

He stood for a moment in thought. For whatever reason, he really didn’t want to lose Hamster right now. The thought of it actually kinda...hurt. Scared him, even. Stupid. But maybe he’d already waited too long to do anything about it. Probably had.

Zhopa’s low voice broke the silence. “You want help, Lud?”

Rob's Other Comic Project: Duel In The Somme--Read it from the beginning!

Rob's Other Comic Project: Duel In The Somme--Read it from the beginning!

Anyway, if you have a Kindle, the 24-page comic is available as a free download for the next few days. If it seems worthwhile, I'll convert Erfworld Book 1 soon, too.

Rob's Other Comic Project: Duel In The Somme--Read it from the beginning!

Rob's Other Comic Project: Duel In The Somme--Read it from the beginning!

The Healomancer, a bright blob, shaded Jillian’s brow with her blobby pink hand and rapidly glanced back and forth between the Chief’s eyes. The real world wavered, then fell back into perfect sharpness.

“You’re healed,” she said with a certain professional coldness, and turned away.

Jillian swiveled her head sharply, looking at everything she could. Her gaze darted around the street, first recognizing the big yellow forms of her gwiffons, including the one holding the Overlady in its mouth.

The complete Court of Faq was present. Most stood on the steps of the archway to the Wizard’s Hall, talking in pairs and clusters, some joyfully, some in hushed and conspiratorial tones. A number of them cautiously paid their respects to Wanda, their newest. A fully-whole Brother Orwell stood in his shackles to one side, speaking glumly to the King.

And Jillian stood there in the middle of the cobblestone street, ignored by all. She had her eyes back, but no-one was offering theirs.

Well, Jack looked her way. His little head-tilt and raised eyebrow inquired if she was all right. She gave him a smile and nod, lifting her sword in salute. Then she let the tip of her weapon casually hover in front of Olive’s face.

She sniffed the air. The prisoner had a familiar scent upon her. Jillian moved the sword away. With her off hand, she touched the stale flower still clinging to her hair.

“Hey. You carrying?”

Olive twisted her neck to look up at her. The Overlady’s red-rimmed blue eyes seemed kindly, almost remorseful. “Yes. Would you like a bud, Jillian?”

Yes, I would really, really like one. Three, four, five seconds she bit her tongue and counted, until she could trust herself not to say that.

“After,” she said. After Haffaton is done. After I’ve felt that thump in my wrist that means my sword connected, that it got through your neck cleanly. I’ll pick it off of your body. No, that one’s probably poisoned. That’s probably why you offered it. Your last little trap. I’ll go out in the garden and get a fresh one.

Banhammer informally convened the Court. True to form, the casters immediately began a pointless and lengthy discussion about where to have the trial. The Wizard’s Hall might have been the obvious choice, but the “recent disharmony” there made King Banhammer want to entertain other options. Half of these casters were seeing a non-Faq city for the first time. They made eager suggestions: the top of the tower, Judy’s suite, the outer walls.

Jack, at least, brought up the urgency of the situation. “It still being the, ah, enemy’s turn,” he said, apologizing for the word with his eyes, “we perhaps cannot afford to dwell on this question long. While I certainly see the need for a trial, the Services of Truth and Justice are being needlessly delayed. After all, right here in the middle of the street might be perfectly adequate to get to the bottom of things.”

“Sounds good,” interjected Chief Jillian. She pointed downward with her flashing sword. “I really like that gutter. It’s got a nice little slope for her head to roll down.”

Olive let out a little whimper, then burst into sobs again. The wrinkled noses and furrowed brows let Jillian know she hadn’t won any points with the jury.

Well...tough.

King Banhammer eventually settled on a spot that Wanda suggested: a patio garden in the garrison courtyard. It was an open space, cheery, adorned with potted plants with all the wrong flowers growing on them. There was a raised fountain, where they dragged a big wooden table to serve as a bench for Banhammer to preside upon. The place had a lot of room, and plenty of sturdy chairs to seat the jurors. Wanda and Olive chose to stand before the King. Orwell asked to sit beside the accused, where he slouched disconsolately in a large “witness chair.”

Jillian liked this space, mainly because she could park a gwiffon on the stone tiles here. Now perched in its saddle, she rested her bare sword across the flat of its neck, and watched the skies. She fully expected Haffaton to attack at any second, with anything they had. But at least if there were an airspace incursion, she could see it from here. If not, she’d at least be aware if the walls were taking damage.

If—really, when—that happened, then she would not leap into the sky to fight. She would simply lunge forward and croak the prisoner, whatever her father’s orders or objections. At that point, her Duty wouldn’t look so muddled. For now, though, she couldn’t claim 100% certainty that he was wrong.

Which is why she didn’t much care how the trial went. Whatever the jury decided, the battle was already won. This was going to end with the stroke of a blade, and the fall of Haffaton.

Still, it was interesting. She listened as Wanda briefly laid out the history of the side.

Haffaton had been founded on a capital site at the mouth of a river (Jillian remembered stealing a paddleboat there), about eleven thousand turns ago. An adventurous warlord named Lex Doothis had crossed a great sea and discovered a Level 2 barbarian city on the site. Upon conquering it, he spun off a new side. From that small seed, Haffaton slowly grew into the largest side in Erfworld.

“Along the way,” said the Lady Firebaugh, “it conquered and eliminated fourteen sides, including my native Goodminton and your Faq.”

Jillian refrained from whistling, but the fact that there were fifteen capital sites within Haffaton’s domain was hard to fathom. It might be common to see a successful side with two or three, but she’d never heard of any with more than five.

“The Overlord Doothis established the side over a long period of growth, which abruptly ended when it edged up against the domains of Easteros and Westeregg,” said Wanda, addressing the bench in formal tones. She did not pace as she spoke, but stood stock still with her hands folded humbly in front of her. “These were two powerful, strongly allied sides ruled by casters named Bell and Blair. They were sisters, from a distant tribe of green-complexioned men. But more remarkable than their odd Signamancy, each was in possession of an Arkentool. And each was attuned.”

Some of the jurors straightened and murmured. Jillian leaned forward in the saddle.

“Between their domains stood the side of el-Efbaum, with this emerald city as its capital. It also was ruled by a caster, a Carnymancer. At the time, he only allowed himself to be called ‘The Wizard.’ You would know him as Charlie.”

Jillian shook her head. Carnymancy. Nice. Hating Charlie suddenly seemed a little more justified now. It did explain a lot about him, though.

“The Wizard was in a constant war with the sisters, and the outcome was uncertain. For he did not possess an Arkentool. Not yet. Still, he managed to keep his side alive and theirs at bay. At the time that Haffaton began to tangle with the sisters, el-Efbaum had been locked in a stalemate with them for longer than Haffaton had existed. He saw this strong new side as a means to break the deadlock, and he formed an alliance with Doothis.

“Haffaton had a Predictamancer and a Thinkamancer. The Wizard had a Findamancer and a Lookamancer. By means that are now obscure, The Wizard used some or all of those casters in an attempt to summon a warlord capable of defeating Bell and Blair.

“Their spell was a success. In fact, Bell of Easteros was croaked on the spot as an immediate effect of the summoning process. The warlord they called to their aid was Judy Gale.”

The jury sat in rapt silence. Jillian’s head was getting a little numb, trying to process all of this new information. For some reason, the hardest part of it was picturing Judy as a warlord. But she must have been. Rulers’ Signamancy often changes dramatically.

“The Warlady Gale acquired the Arkenshoes from Bell’s body, and over a period of several turns she attuned to them. She then used them to infiltrate Westeregg and destroy Blair, capturing the Arkendish and returning it to The Wizard, as per their terms of alliance.”

Finally, Wanda broke her rigid stance. She turned and stared at Overlady Branch for a long moment, as if to give her the opportunity to refute any of the account. Olive said nothing.

“This is the point at which the defendant’s list of crimes begins,” said Wanda. She slowly turned her head, then her body, back to face Banhammer. “In destroying Blair, Judy had the aid of el-Efbaum’s Hippiemancer, Olive Branch.”

The King was watching the Croakamancer intently, holding tented fingertips to his lips. “State the crimes,” he said. His tone was low and grave.

Wanda raised her head by a bare fraction. “Her most serious acts include at least ten counts of commander-level fratricide (with others attempted). She also attempted both patricide and hericide. Beginning with Blair, she arranged or accomplished the croaking of eleven enemy rulers and at least two hundred warlords under false terms of parley, truce, or alliance, or via other dishonorable and perverse means. Among these were my brother Tommy, and my father Lord Firebaugh.”

From Jillian’s perspective, she could not see Olive’s face. But the Overlady was shaking her head in silent protest. Her knees were shaking a bit as well. “I had good reasons!” she pleaded. “Loj!”

Banhammer pounded his fist on the bench, startling a couple of the jurors. “‘Your Wisdom!’” he corrected sternly. “And the defendant will not speak until the prosecutor has listed the crimes!”

“Thank you, Your Wisdom,” said Wanda, shooting a glance at the cowed Overlady. “The accused has often maintained that her actions were in the service of a greater good, what you would call the Service of Life. I am certain she will argue such. And perhaps these particular crimes against the Titans’ expectations might be considered individually, and even excused in context. But there is a worse crime, one she can never truly answer for. She created the Olive Garden.”

“I see. And what is that?” asked Banhammer skeptically.

“The farm attached to this city,” said Wanda. She took the stale flower from her hair and held it out. “Where these are grown. And worse things than these. She has perverted the purpose of her own discipline. She has weaponized Hippiemancy, used the power of peace in the service of destruction, used Life against Life. Haffaton is an empty husk, sitting where many thriving sides lived before. As pretty as it is, the Garden is the source and center of the decay. There is no other word for the things she has brought into the world except ‘evil.’”

Jillian watched the stale flower, as the Lady Firebaugh replaced it uselessly in her hair. Titans, Wanda must have it ten times worse than she did. How long has she been wearing those things? How much longer does she have before they croak her? Will they get me, too? It was a scary thought, but it didn’t make her want one any less.

...which was even scarier.

“So. Is that your primary charge?” Banhammer asked.

“Yes,” said Wanda. “But it is integral to the details of her other crimes.”

“That she created a garden of evil.”

“Yes.”

Banhammer frowned, looking uncertain of what to say. He looked at a few of the jurors, and even glanced Jillian’s way. Then he looked at Olive for a moment, before returning his gaze to Wanda. “You said she was originally a unit of el-Efbaum, correct?”

“Correct, Your Wisdom.”

“So she created this garden here, under The Wizard?”

“Yes,” said Wanda. “Although most of what makes it evil, she created later.”

“That is not what I’m asking. She created it while serving under The Wizard. Perhaps at his direction. Did she pop here in this city?”

“She did, Your Wisdom. And her Flower Power was integral to The Wizard’s efforts to keep Bell and Blair from conquering his side. He used her magic to—”

Banhammer held up a hand. “She popped in the capital, under The Wizard,” he said, leaning forward.

“Yes, Your Wisdom.”

“So the charge of attempted patricide...”

The King straightened in his seat, and folded his hands on the bench.

“She is Charlie’s daughter,” he said slowly, staring at Olive. “And she tried to croak him?”

“Your Wisdom, that is correct.”

Rob's Other Comic Project: Duel In The Somme--Read it from the beginning!

Rob's Other Comic Project: Duel In The Somme--Read it from the beginning!

Hi everyone,

To be clear, I will finish all the pages for Book 2. I will try to get as close to a page a week as I can, but if the past few months are any indication the chances of that happening are not good. You will have to suffer through with me a bit longer...

I've known this was coming since last October or so, but I didn't feel the time was right to make an announcement about it until we found the right artist to carry the series forward. After vetting about a dozen candidates, I believe that we do, but I'll make more posts about that in a little while.

For now, please join me in expressing huge gratitude for everything Xin has brought to this comic. I'm going to miss working with her, but she'll stick around in certain capacities. She's working with the new illustrator, she'll be doing Erfworld (and other) commissioned art, and she'll still be someone I can talk to when I need to work out the tangles in the story.

Thank you, Xin. You have brought amazing new dimensions to Erfworld. Your command of characters and settings, of the emotional undertones inherent in facial expressions and body language, and your extraordinary attention to detail has raised the comic to its highest heights. And you've been the best sounding board for story that I have ever had, on any writing project. It's been an amazing 3 1/2 years, and I wish you and your family all the peace and happiness in the world.

Rob's Other Comic Project: Duel In The Somme--Read it from the beginning!