The bugzine also got some attention; the pdf version of Issue 2.5 is now complete, and I'll be getting that up online as soon as we go over it for stupid errors.
Today's word counts:
Pirates: 570, bringing me so close to 17k words, it's like a 3-year-old a couple days before her/his birfday: "I'm two and nine-hundred-ninety-nine thousandths years old."
Xen: 1358, finding an end a bit over 4k words
Ye Olde Grande Total: 1928
It was a nice day. A good day.
Frank Dunham leaned back in his padded, leather chair and watched the gentle breeze blow through the branches of the two Asian Pear trees framing his office windows. The blooms were gone, now, and the fruit just starting to swell on the branches.
He'd need to thin the fruit soon--maybe next week--for the pears to reach their full, delicious potential.
But that was the way of the world, though, wasn't it? Some are sacrificed so that the others can flourish and grow strong. It wasn't anything personal, no matter what bullshit you needed to spin to make it happen.
Why was this so hard for some people to understand?