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THIRSTING FOR WHISKEY: A Liosene Short Story

Dolos called his dagger “Whiskey.” Most people called Whiskey by her other names, such as “Get that fucking thing away from me” or “Gods, please—no!” But unlike most things and people in Liosene, Whiskey did not discriminate. If you looked like you could do with a drink, she was happy to oblige. And in a […]

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THE THING ABOUT SCARS: A Liosene Short Story

If Liosene was called the Hand of God, then the South Step slums—in all their shit and grime—were the middle finger. The giant “fuck you” to the people who aspired to go about their days without the fear of being murdered, beaten, raped, or some awful combination of the three. Nemesis I’bar had been on […]

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