A More Telepathic Form Of Pidgin

A mind is a dangerous place to have a bar fight, especially when you’re far from your own. Harry wasn’t looking for a fight, just information. There was a man with a big sword make his way down the bar. Luckily, the bar was a mile long and the man wasn’t particularly interested in being quick about things. If Harry had to guess he’d say this was the ego but he’d never been all the versed in the works of Freud.

There was nothing to do but conceive of a revolver. Of weapons that was the only choice he could think of. Sure if he had all the time in the world and a clear… self, Harry might be able to find the perfect solution but right then, there was a part of a man with a metaphor of a glorified meat cleaver soon to figuratively decapitate Harry. No amount of analysis made that seem like a good thing.

It was all made harder because in this realm, house rules seemed to dictate a more stringent following of the rules of reality. It wasn’t enough to imagine the shape of a gun, Harry had to imagine the workings, from the floating pin to the grains of gunpowder inside the shell, inside the cylinder. It took focus and Harry was short on that resource. The sword kept on colliding into metal barstools of inferior construction and with each collision, Harry’s concentration was dealt another blow.

Not a moment too soon, the gun came to be. With six shots and a wavering hand, Harry stood and hoped to hit. The first went forty five degrees left. The second glanced over the swordsman shoulder. The third hit the sword squarely but did nothing to impede the man and his sword, a gross violation of reality and should be noted in bugs. The fourth hit squarely in the neck. The monster fell to his knees.

“GG.” It strained to speak.

“Good game? Bull. That was terrifying and once more I didn’t ask to be in this game. I just wanted to find out what time the party is?”


The new faster telepathic networks were great, people could communicate much easier than before. Sadly, most of the custom mods were pretty god awful.


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