Sample Post from the Action Genre this Month:
Basil Fletcher posts in Comix
Under a grey sky, a forest-green 1975 Land Rover rumbles down the Cotswolds escarpment into a bog in the Severn valley, just west of the Anglo-Saxon excavation. Behind the wheel is a dour-looking woman with large, oval sunglasses and an opalescent silk scarf shrouding her ginger beehive. In the passenger seat sits a gentleman wearing an adventurer's khakis, sleeves rolled to his elbows, and red silk scarf bunched at his throat. He has greying temples, long sideboards, and a bushy moustache. In his lap sits a heavy tracking device with a green, blinking monitor and long antennae.
The driver comes to an abrupt stop at the bog’s edge and looks over her sunglasses with cold, pale-blue eyes. “We’re here, Oliver,” she says with a disturbing intensity.
“Excellent work, Genevieve,” Oliver Rook says, stepping out of the vehicle with his hand-held tracker. “I have a human body on my screen. Not unusual, as both pagan Celts and Saxons sacrificed their slaves to bog-dwelling deities of death.”
Genevieve Harborough extends a hand slowly ahead of her, following it as though being led by a divining rod. “And this crossroads of ley energies is particularly strong, Oliver. The Saxon drymen of Watscote would no doubt have known this and considered this bog a most sacred sacrificial place, indeed.”
“So they would have, my dear Genevieve. But what really intrigues me are the bog’s abnormal radiation levels, which Saxon drymen would not have detected.”
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