Chapter the Eighth: Sojourn
_With my hair slicked back with Carrion Shellac; With the blood from a pheasant and the bone from a hare Tied to the branches of a roebuch stag Left to wave in the timber like a buck-shot flag, Go away you Rainsnout. Go blow your brains out, ...
Morgan at the Grave
**I. Mercenaries** Morgan stared across the street that had become a battlefield and swallowed hard as he felt his chest tightening with apprehension. High powered projectiles fired across the street from behind downed, or parked vehicles or...