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A Bloody Bloody Mess In the Wild Wild West

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Justin Bienvenue

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“At the top of the Palisades in Weehawken, New Jersey is a small park known as the Dueling Grounds. This Revolutionary War site, overlooking New York City to the east, and what had been Half Moon Bay to the north is where Alexander Hamilton, a founding father of the United States, was mortally wounded by a single shot from Aaron Burr’s dueling pistol on the morning of July 11, 1804. He died the following day in Greenwich Village, across the river in New York City. The duel was because Hamilton, the former secretary of the treasury, interfered with Aaron Burr’s bid for the presidency of the United States and again, by successfully opposing his candidacy for governor of New York. Burr’s vindictive retaliation cost Hamilton his life.”

“In the middle of a battle on Candentis Academy, a silver snake slithered toward a crumpled form. No one saw its winding progress through the grass. Secrecy was the reason Princewell transformed: to travel unnoticed to his target. However, given the serpent’s almost glowing silver, anyone who did see him would probably realize it wasn’t just a snake but a man who had morphed. Not that it would have mattered anyway. Princewell was one of the few persons in the Triskai who could wield magic while in his animal form. Any unfortunate person who challenged him would make that fatal discovery when it was too late. But Princewell didn’t like to kill, not in the usual sense anyway. Killing blows, spells, and curses—he found all these methods too bland, unimaginative, and sacrilegious for his own taste. Death should be the climax of a long and complex symphony, and even then, it should not be the end. He had the ability to steal whatever afterlife his target was entitled to. He liked to entice human vices, pitting men one against the other. He enjoyed watching them destroying themselves within his binds of silver magic—his web of trickery. So confident was he in his abilities, that he would soon attempt to swindle an old god in his quest to achieve a status never before seen in history.”

“A Futile Gesture by Stewart Stafford Challenged to de Clair's Danse Macabre, Sebastian counted condemned steps, Thistle ranks awaiting duelling blood, A powdered farce of silk and steel. Spun, heart exposed to pistol shot, Sebastian faced his rival, Flintlock fired, A sharp crack counterpointed the gale, A crimson bloom on his foe’s ribcage. Honour preserved, whatever it meant - Slain Baron de Clair curtsied to tilled earth, The manservant held out his master's coat as if death were but a pause in the day. © 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”