Recent content by Jack Thacker

A bowl of hot porridge suddenly rattled in front of Thacker, dropped off by the heavy-set server woman before Jack could even ask for a spoon. The would-be sailor eyed the white paste hungrily but made no motion for it–not until Vaezhasar made his peaceful intentions clear. With the air...

“Me friends call me Whistler;” Jack lied, taking another swig. He didn’t have any friends to speak of and nobody in Alliria had called him anything other than Thacker. But Vaezhasar didn’t have to know that. The dirty fugitive’s dark eyes observed his benefactor coolly. The man, if there was a...

The serving woman muttered and grumbled to herself, in a low enough murmur to be seen not heard. She slapped Jack’s tankard on the bench table in front of him alongside a basket of hard bread, then marched over to where the conspicuous sorcerer sat–swiping his currency from his paw and swiftly...

Bum. Bum. Bum. Bumm. The beat of the leather skin drum kept the oarsmen on The Leapin’ Lizard on rhythm and in tandem, though Jack Thacker had grown weary of it in recent weeks. He heard it in his sleep; at his meals; even on deck. The thumping echoed in Jack’s head like a permanent headache...