Fiction: The Annotated Hunting Ground, chapter 2

“You’re not gonna believe this.”

Gina leaned back out of the cage she’d been cleaning and looked up. Her father, Doctor Martin Herodias, was standing in the doorway and leaning into the room. “Believe what.”

“I just got a call from Jeb Grier, and you’ll never believe what they found on his land.”

Gina sighed. “Just tell me already.” She hated it when people tried to drag out a big reveal by hyping it up.

“They found a dead twiga,” Martin said with a grin.

“You’re shitting me,” Gina said. Though they’d been making a comeback in recent years, twiga were still a rare sight in these parts; in all her time spent on the Samara, Gina had never managed to see one despite their huge size.

He just pointed with his thumb back down the hall. “I’m going out there now to take a look, you coming?”

“This I gotta see,” she grunted, rolling back onto the balls of her feet and straightening her legs before kicking the cage door shut and tossing the soiled paper towel in the trash.

 

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Fiction: The Annotated Hunting Ground, prologue & chapter 1

Hey, were left confused by You Can’t Go Home Again due to having not read Hunting Ground? Have you read Hunting Ground but were still confused by all the in-universe names for animals that made it hard to tell what the dinosaurs were because you never bought the book with the included glossary? Well you’re in luck my clueless friend, because I’ve decided to put Hunting Ground back up on Tyrant King Press! And this won’t just be a straight repost, oh no: with these new posts I will also be including notes at the end of each chapter that explain what the hell the story’s talking about when it mentions a nguru or a tega or a twiga, for those of you who haven’t bought the book with its included glossary of terms. And as if that wasn’t enough, there have also been minor revisions to the story! Nothing major, just little things I wasn’t thrilled about the first time around or that I felt like I flubbed.

Are you excited? I’m excited. Don’t know why, but I’m excited. So let’s do this!

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Hey, kids! You modern hip with-it snake people, with your Tumblrs and your Snapchats and your Facebooks and your Twitters! Well Tyrant King Press isn’t a skeevy high school senior sending pictures of his abs to teenage girls he met on the internet so we’re not on Snapchat, but we are on Facebook (I feel like you already know this), Tumblr, and now, after a minor snafu where our account was suspended before we’d even fully completed the setup process, we’re also on Twitter!

Be sure to follow us for updates on new posts, shared articles…um…new art…? Okay I’m not really sure what all I want to do with Tyrant King on Twitter. Let’s find out together, because life is an adventure, until we all die and are forgotten!

Fiction: The Crocodile Tamers

Feyza Okur woke to the deep ringing of the temple’s bell, calling its faithful to morning prayer. All around her, other travelers were beginning to stir. Looking around in the gloomy dawn light she saw wandering Jardhu ascetics, sprawled leisurely on the floor without any worldly possessions or, in some cases, clothes to keep track of. She saw less seasoned travelers stretching stiff joints, their packs still dented in the middle from where they’d rested their heads during the night. And she saw those like herself, seasoned roamers and sellswords, who’d slept sitting against the wall with their belongings clutched protectively in their laps, ready to leap awake and deal with any would-be thieves. They surely all knew as well as she did that the chances of being robbed in this place were so low as to border on negligible, but old habits were hard to break.

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Fiction: You Can’t Go Home Again, chapter 4

Arenaria couldn’t say she was exactly thrilled with the thought of coming back to her hometown, if even just for the duration of the fight and its accompanying ceremonies and rituals. Everything she hated most about her people’s way of life seemed to be concentrated in Braneth.

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Fiction: You Can’t Go Home Again, chapter 2

The jeep descended slowly, zig-zagging down the switchback trail cut into the side of the cliff face. There were a few nervous moments, as there always were, when they passed though the cloud layer and they could barely see the way ahead of them, much less the sickening drop to the side. Then they were down through the clouds, and through the ceaselessly shifting sheets of rain they could see the jungle hundreds of feet below, a rolling carpet of fog-shrouded green that sprawled facelessly in every direction.

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Shameless Promotion: Beasts of the Mesozoic

Yes, I know, I’m wasting all of your time to shill something again. This time it’s not something related to Tyrant King Productions, but I think you’ll agree that it’s still very cool:

toy-allthree

Feathered dromaeosaur action figures! Show of hands, who reading this has longed for decently articulated feathered dinosaur toys?

Put your hand down dingus, I can’t actually see you.

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Fiction: The Fisherman

The holy diver launched itself out of the water to land on Taro’s raft, and his granddaughter Ume immediately set her book aside and slid forward. As he watched, the teenage girl coaxed the bird to give up its catch so she could toss the still-squirming fish into a watery compartment cut into the rickety-looking raft. With a hollow scrabbling of claws on bamboo the diver slid over the edge and back into the water, and Ume wiped her hands on her shirt with a look of distaste before returning to her book.

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