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Old Apr 15 2008, 07:29 PM   #1
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Default The Case of the Flaming Flamethrower

The Case of the Flaming Flamethrower

Mastersmith Byrt straightened up slowly with a grunt, picked up a bucket of water and emptied it over his piece of work. The bronze window shutter he was mending was ready for refitting, and just in time: threadfall was due in a glass or so.

Rundles was the oldest Hold in the area, founded during the first interval just wherein time past; a river had cut a wide valley between cliffs. The Hold was in the only stretch of south facing cliffs, not far above the now small river that looped its way across the water meadows. A side valley opposite held a small plantation of valuable timber and, upstream, the south slope of a suitable hill had been planted with vines by Randeel’s grandfather.

Down in the valley below the Hold, Byrt could see the herdsman rounding up the last of the beasts to get them under cover. The beasthold and the herdsman’s cot were both built about a hundred paces away.
Holder Randeel, his elder son Rindeeno, and a fosterer, all big and brawny, were waiting to lift the shutter back into place.

Randeel looked up at the sun and sniffed. “Back in a grain or two.”

He departed at a fast walk heading for the Hold door, reached inside and lifted out a long straight horn, a couple of feet longer than he was tall, with its copper polished to a sheen. Standing on the top step he took a large breath and blew a long loud blast which echoed off the opposite cliffs a quarter of a mile away across the water meadows and river. He put the horn back inside the Hold and walked back to Byrt.

“Right. Glass to go to Fall. Let’s get this sharding shutter back in place.”



Byrt had just driven in the cottar pin to lock the shutter in place on its pintles when the Holder’s twin daughters appeared. Byrt had met them the previous evening and had thought them a right pair. Roughly twelve turns old they were full of giggles and mischief. Maree the younger left-handed one appeared to be the ringleader while Filona seemed content to be the follower. Dressed up like queen riders in weyrhide trous, jackets and helmets, they were heading for the runner shelter.

Byrt moved over to the forge and started packing up his tools and dousing the fire. The twins re-appeared each leading a tacked up hill runner and headed for the shed where the flame-throwers were stored. The farm drudges, under the son’s watchful eye, were getting kitted up to patrol the fields. The fosterer carried out two more sets of gear and handed the twins one each.

Byrt slung his biggest bag on his back and picked up the others, one in each hand, and headed for the Hold door. He paused in the doorway to let his eyes get accustomed to the interior and was nearly knocked down by the Holder’s Lady, Jeeno, and a kitchen drudge, both carrying drink skins and packs of wrapped meat rolls. They went out into the autumn sunshine and started handing them round.

“Only one for you THIS time Gan,” yelled the drudge swatting one of the men. A burst of laughter replied to her sally.

There was clatter of runner hooves on the flags and the herdsman’s daughter rode in at a brisk trot. She was dressed in a slightly less fancy version of the twins’ costume, and she too grabbed a flame- thrower. Jeeno strode across to the three girls and handed round refreshments; watching while they were stored away in saddle-bags, and handing out advice too, to judge by the head noddings and shakings.

Randeel came over, reached inside the door for his horn and let fly with another loud blast. “Half Glass! Move out to your places!”

He handed the horn to his wife in passing and followed his men out of the yard, swinging a flamethrower onto his back as he went. The three girls mounted up and followed him out, but turned onto a different track away from the Hold.



“Want a beaker of klah? asked Jeeno, swinging the Hold door shut and levering the bolts into place.

“Please. That’s a mighty horn. Haven’t seen one like that before.”

“It’s very old.” She led the way back into the kitchen and hung the horn on a couple of pegs driven in over the fireplace. “It’s supposed to have belonged to Rundle himself. He’s supposed to have brought it from Ru-atha when he founded the hold. We have one other old piece of his too.” She reached up and lifted a curious metal contraption off a shelf and placed it in front of Byrt.
It was a metal box with a miniature window shutter in each side. The top tapered up to a hook and had a pattern of holes pierced round it. Byrt opened one side and peered in. There was a short open-topped cylinder fixed to the middle of the floor. “It’s supposed to be a lantern and a stick of something that burned went into that holder.”

“It’s well made, whatever it is,” said Byrt, opening and closing each shutter in turn. One of the latches was a bit stiff. “Have you got a smear of fat?”

Jeeno went out into a storeroom and returned with one dripping finger. “Will this do?”

“Plenty.” Byrt scooped a small amount onto his own finger and worked the grease in around the latch, working it in until the latch ran smoothly. “I wonder what the burning stick was?” He looked at his finger. “Fat will burn, but it melts at a very low heat. I wonder ... “



Maree and Filona, with their friend Sair, reined in their runners at their usual appointed lookout post. The woods they were guarding spread out below, north of their rocky outcrop. Their wide ledge was level with the tops of the nearest trees.

Filona dismounted and took the bag of refreshments from the cantle of her saddle. “Give me yours. I’ll put them in the weyr.”

A shallow cave ran in along a fault line behind them. She had to stoop to get in, leaning to the right to match the slant of the opening. There was no way even a dragonet could have weyred there, but to the three girls it was the weyr for all three of their gold dragons: that had been decided two turns ago when they gave up trying to find any more holes in the rocks.

In their minds they were three gold-riders running their Weyr. Their runners each had two names, an ordinary one for every day, and a dragon one for when they could get away from both the adults and the littles, all of whom would spoil the game. Though their parents had at least some inkling of their fantasy.

Thus Maree’s Merrylegs became ‘Mereth’, Filona’s Starflower became ‘Stareth’, and Sair’s old runner Dimples rejoiced in the alternate ‘Goldeth’.

“Hurry up Fi,” yelled Sair, “I can see them!”

Filona wriggled out of the crack and looked up. The topmost fighting wings were just coming into view over the cliffs stacked up behind the Hold opposite; swooping and veering along the high leading edge. Behind and below came the second flight, and eventually the third as well. Lastly, just skimming over the cliff tops came the Queens. Filona mounted again. Now their job started. Any thread that got past the Queens was THEIRS. They hadn’t had to do anything for the last four falls, although two falls ago a thread had got through into the vines, but the men had dealt with that one.

They watched with gasping awe as one of the Golds spotted a thread off to her left and span on a wingtip to chase it, her rider thrown hard into the riding straps. The woman pointed her flamethrower at the thread and hit the valve. There was a brief roar and the thread crisped and smoked, dispersing into dust.

“Wow,” breathed Maree.

“THERE!” Yelled Sair, pointing to their right.

The twins looked where she was pointing and were just in time to see a thread dipping into the canopy. All three kicked their runners into a trot. Down the natural ramp they rode and accelerated into a canter as they twisted their way through the trees. Randeel insisted on keeping the undergrowth cut down, and most of the fallen timber had been cleared away: it was a valuable commodity.

The thread was less than a quarter mile up the valley from their lookout so they were soon there. As usual Maree was in the lead. The thread was just beginning to gorge, draped around on the bark of a large hardwood. She pulled the nozzle from its holster just behind her left leg and yanked at the valve lever on top of the tank. There was a roar and gout of flame.

Unfortunately this wasn’t from the nozzle. It was from the valve behind her neck.



Byrt was just spooning sweetener into his third helping of Klah when there came a loud thumping on the bronze front door. He heard Jeeno come quickly down the stairs, and moved into the entrance hall to help her with the bolts. On the steps a distraught, panting Sair was trying to stop her runner from bolting. Byrt moved quickly forward and took the reins from her, using his greater weight to advantage.

“It’s Maree,” the girl gasped, “her flamethrower exploded.” Jeeno sat down hard on the top step. “Weyrwoman Lyza’s taken her to the Weyr. Filona’s gone with them. I got the thread and came to tell you.”

Jeeno sat gazing into the distance for a few breaths, then shook herself. She banged her hands on her knees and stood up. “Thank you Sair; that was well done. I’ll need to be getting to the Weyr myself. I’d better pack some things.”

Byrt looked at Sair who was just starting to shake with reaction. “Here. Get this klah inside you. It’ll do you more good than me. What happened to the other two runners?

“They bolted when the Queens landed.”

“Right. As soon as fall’s past us, which should be right soon, you and I, we’ll go and hunt them down. What happened to the twins’ flamethrowers?”

“Maree’s is back where we ripped it off her. Filona was still wearing hers when she climbed on dragonback.”

“Come on then: let’s go and tack my old runner up.”

As they walked towards the stables they saw Sair’s father, Dhernyron, peering out of his cot door. He came out, closed the door behind him and scuttled across to his daughter peering anxiously skywards all the way.

“What happened? I heard old Dimples come back at a run and fall’s not over yet.”

“Maree’s got burned.”

“Thread?”

“No: Agenothree.”

“Ooh: that can be bad.”

Sair and I are going to hunt for the twins’ runners.”

“I’d better come too then, I know that ground better nor almost anybody.”

The three of them were just leading the men’s runners over to where Sair’s was tethered, when they saw the column of drudges walking back urged along by Randeel and Rindeeno. The fosterer, Ganzo, was trailing along some distance behind.

The skies were clear now, the fight had moved on into the valleys to the south-west. Just the liaison- rider remained, spiralling down to check that all was safe.

“Off already?” Randeel asked Byrt.

“Only to fetch your daughters’ runners. You’d best go and talk to Jeeno.”

Randeel looked surprised, and then looked worried. “Best.” He strode off. “Deeno!” He yelled over his shoulder. “You’re in charge until I get back.”
Jeeno was in the Hold doorway as he approached it. They couldn’t hear what was being said, but they saw his shoulders stiffen. Then his arms went round his wife and she collapsed against him.



N’key, on blue Siluth, landed far enough away that his dragon didn’t spook the runners. He clambered down wearily, stripped off his goggles and banged the black dust off his riding gear as he walked across to the Holder. Byrt, Dhernyron and Sair led their runners across in the same direction.

“Siluth’s spoken to Orlith,” they heard N’key say, “and I can tell you that Filona’s fine, just very worried for Maree. Maree’s burned the back of her neck and head. The weyrhide protected her: a bit. She’s been numbweeded and fellis’d, and M’tak’s gone to fetch the Masterhealer. You can be proud of Filona. She pulled the flamethrower off Maree’s shoulders and got her off her runner. Sair here did the honours to the thread. You’ve got one half burned tree, and that’s all the damage to the woods. Are you both coming?”

Randeel nodded.

“I’ve got some things together, ready,” said Jeeno.

“Let’s get you to the Weyr then.”

As the trio walked across to Siluth, Randeel yelled for his son, who left off checking over the flamethrowers and hurried to his father’s side.
“The third vine terrace needs hoeing: four to do that. And the far root-crop field is to be irrigated: Ganzo can take the down there. Dhernyron with Byrt and Sair are heading out to look for the girls’ runners. He’ll do the stock when he gets back. I’ll come back as soon as I can. I imagine your mother will stay until we can bring Maree home. She’s organised the women. Auntie will run that side of things. Get on with it and don’t let things slide.” He strode off to catch up with his wife and N’key.



Maree stirred when her mother’s hand rested near her forehead.

“M-m?”

“Hush Littling.”

“We’ve dosed her as much as we dare,” said another voice. “With our usual patients we can rely on the rider/dragon bond to help control pain, but of course that’s not possible here.”

“Unless she links with her sharding runner,” came her father’s voice.

There seemed to be something very wrong with her. She was lying on her stomach, which she had always hated. Her forehead was resting on something padded. She opened her eyes and found that she was gazing down at her mother’s boots. She wriggled with a sudden discomfort.

“I think she needs the necessary,” said the voice that wasn’t her parents’. “Randeel, if you would take Filona out for a bit? We’ll call you back when we’ve done.”



Byrt, Sair and her father didn’t take long to reach the damaged tree. It’s bark was scored by both thread and agenothree but to Byrt’s admittedly untutored eye, it looked as though it would survive: for a while at least. Dhernyron got down and started looking for runner tracks, walking in a large circle around the tree, leading his runner. All three runners were spooky, probably because they could still smell dragon.

Byrt also got down and, tying his runner to a different tree, walked over to look at Maree’s abandoned flamethrower. There was a large scorched patch beyond the top of the cylinder. The remains of last year’s foliage was burned to a crisp and, in one place, it was still smouldering. Byrt stamped on it to put it out, releasing a shower of sparks which he watched carefully to see that he didn’t start a new conflagration. The cylinder was still rather too hot to touch with comfort. Placing his weyrhide jacket on the ground he lifted up the apparatus by its one remaining strap and placed it on the jacket. Then, using his belt knife, he lifted the other buckles and tongues from the ashes and tipped them onto his jacket also. Then he rolled the whole lot up and tied the bundle to his saddle cantle.

Leading his runner he set off along the trail that Dhernyron and Sair had taken, leading down to the stream that watered the woodland. He found Sair sitting on a rock crying. Filona’s Starflower was lying across the stream with an obviously broken back leg. Dhernyron had had to cut its throat.

“Come on lass,” said Byrt, “give me a hand to get her tack off.”

Sair sniffed a lot while she helped. The bridle was easy enough but the saddle was trapped between the runner’s back and a rock. It took a lot of wrestling to extract it. Both of them were somewhat wet by the time they succeeded. Byrt, at least, was glad that the autumn day was warm and sunny.

Sair climbed back onto Dimples and held Starflower’s saddle across her lap. Together she and Byrt walked back to his runner. With some wild contortions Byrt managed to get into his saddle without spiking himself on the flamethrower.

They set off following Dhernyron’s tracks up the other side of the stream and through the woods. Eventually they heard approaching hooves and reined in to wait. Dhernyron appeared on his runner leading Merrylegs.

“A couple of Baleek’s men found her on their land, recognised her and walking her back to us. They know how Maree rides and were expecting to find her knocked unconscious by a tree.” He looked across at his daughter and her load. “Good girl. Give it here. I’ll tie it on Merrylegs.”

Having tied it on, he looked at it again. “Where’s the saddlebag?”

“Oh!” Sair’s hand went up to cover her mouth. “All three of them are still in the weyr.”

Byrt looked at her. “High Reaches?”

“No OUR weyr.” She blushed. “The pretend one we have up at the lookout.”
“We’d better go back THAT way then.”



They arrived back at Rundles just as the drudges were arriving back from their chores to eat the evening meal.

Ganzo strode officiously across to Byrt. “Is that the damaged flamethrower? I’d better take it and check it over.” He held out his hand.

“No,” retorted Byrt. “I’m the Mastersmith around here, and I think that it’ll be ME who checks it over.”

“But, but ... Randeel put ME in charge of the flamethrowers. It’s my JOB.”

Randeel just looked at him and rode on leaving Ganzo looking rather foolish.



The following morning, after an early breakfast the hold folk were separating into their work-teams. One of the grain fields was due for ploughing and so Dhernyron was taking one group down to get the heavy draught runners and hitch them to the ploughs. Another group was also headed that way to start shovelling the dung-heap into wagons to manure the field before the harrowing started.

Into this activity flew C’lef on his brown Raith with Randeel and Filona seated behind him. Dhernyron and Rindeeno promptly turned and went to greet the Holder and report. Byrt also headed that way, but to talk to C’lef. Ganzo sort of hovered round Randeel trying to look as if he was part of the group.

“How is she?” Byrt asked quietly.

“Well ... she’ll survive. But there will probably be some extensive scarring and it’s probable that her hair will never grow back.”

“That’s tough on a pretty young girl.”

“It is that. One of the problems will be how to protect her head. Winter’s coming on and it’ll be rather cold up her for a bald lass. She may have to spend the winter in a weyrhide cap.”

“Those woodsy folk down Southern Boll wear knitted hats don’t they? They should be fairly warm. Could we get her one in pretty colours?”

“We’d have to ask Filona WHAT colour though.”

“What about summer? The sun up here’ll burn her something fierce.”

C’lef thought for a bit. “H-mm. How about one of those floaty things the Igen ladies wear?”

“That could work. But I’m not setting myself up to supply a constant variety of headgear.”

“No: we don’t want to do that. It’d put Randeel’s nose right out of joint.”

“I’ll talk to Jeeno then. By the bye; what do you know about Ganzo?”

“Him? He’s some sort of distant cousin from the other side of Ru-atha. Rundle came this way. His brother went the other. This one’s a second or third son, so he’s unlikely to inherit, and his Da’s place is smaller than this. Why?”

“I just don’t know but he makes my toes itch; I want to kick so hard. He’s a wrong-un. He doesn’t smell right.”

“He could just be a pompous young idiot. We’ve both seen and dealt with a lot of THEM.”

“No; it’s something more. Oh; is your Raith due for a feed?”

“No. He fed yesterday after the fall. Why?”

“There’s a runner carcase in the stream running down through the plantation. Filona’s. Be best if it wasn’t there to upset her again.”

“I’ll see that it disappears.”

“Ta.”



With the flamethrower in his arms, Byrt went looking for Randeel, who wasn’t in the kitchen; though Filona was, being cuddled by Auntie. He backed out and tried elsewhere. Not surprisingly Randeel was found in his office.

“Ah, Byrt.” He said looking up. “Is that the culprit? Is it mendable? I really don’t want faulty equipment in the Hold."

“Yes it is and yes it can be. But I want you to see it before I sort it out.” He laid it on the floor, the only clear space. “Look here. The nut locking the valve assembly together has been loosened.” He pointed and Randeel peered, moving the nut between a finger and thumb. “You put young Ganzo in charge of the flamethrowers didn’t you?”

“Not really. Gan’s the one in charge of them. Ganzo’s only supposed to help him top up the agenothree. Why? What’s the idiot saying?”

“He tried to take it off me yesterday when I bought it back.

Randeel looked grim. “I’ll get him in and find out what’s going on.”

“Carefully though. That explosion wasn’t an accident. Look at the marks on the nut.” Randeel peered at it closely once again. “The spanner supplied by the Smithcraft Hall fits too well to make those marks. Something like my big pincers would if somebody ‘borrowed’ them. The oddest thing though is that these marks were left by somebody trying to tighten the nut, not loosen it.”

“What? How do you know all THAT?”

You can tell it wasn’t the spanner because there are only two marks on the nut. The spanner, if it left any marks at all, would leave six. And, they start on opposite corners and slip round onto the flanges going this way. So whoever was doing it was trying to turn it sun-turn ways; to tighten it.”

“I’ll start with Ganzo I think,” said Randeel grimly, striding to the door.



Byrt went upstairs to collect his gear. His bags of tools and spare metal were already down at the runner sheds for packing onto his pack runners. On his way down he saw Randeel and Ganzo heading into the office escorted by Gan, and waited on the stairs until the office door closed.

As he approached the runner sheds he heard two quiet sad voices and some weeping. Sair and Filona were talking themselves out and comforting each other. He put his pack down silently outside the sheds and left them to it. A beaker of klah would taste real good right now. A beaker of wine would be even better.



He was sitting at the kitchen table keeping out of Auntie’s way as she, and a couple of younger women, got the noonings ready when Randeel came in and helped himself to klah. He caught Byrt’s eye and jerked his head towards the hallway door. Byrt picked up his beaker and followed him out and in to the office.

“Sit down man,” said Randeel, doing so himself. He sighed. “Well, we got it out of him. I’d rather you, at least, heard it straight because, as sure as eggs are eggs, there’ll be at least half a dozen versions going the rounds within a sevenday’s up.” He took a couple of swigs of klah. “It turns out that Maree wasn’t the target: Rindeeno was. He knows that there’s no way he’s going to inherit his father’s hold. In fact I wouldn’t be surprised if they fostered him out to get rid of him. He boasted that he’d tried to kill his older brother. He thought that if he caused a fatal accident to Rindeeno he could stay on, marry one of the twins and land up as Holder in this place.”

“That’s pretty twisted.”

“It is that. Actually he’s not very good at doing things but I let him help Gan with the flamethrowers, unfortunately.”

“He tried to make out that HE was in charge.”

“In his dreams! That’s his real trouble: he lives his daydreams. He tampered with Rindeeno’s set two falls ago. Of course we don’t often actually have to use them. The thread we destroyed that fall fell to my team not my son’s. And last fall we didn’t have to use them at all. THIS fall, when he went to get the girls’ throwers he realised that Rindeeno had gone off with Maree’s and there were only the three useable ones left. So he tried to mend it using the big old tongs that Gan keeps for lifting the lid of the big agenothree tank.”

“What have you done with him?”

“Locked him in his room. Gan’s gone up on the heights to set the Rider banner for me and is then going to sit outside his door. I’m sending him to the Lord Holder for trial.”

“What punishment do you think he’ll get?”

“Probably banishment. I’D like them to lash him to the Star Stones next fall for what he did to my Maree.” He paused and blinked a few times. With a choked up voice he continued. “She’s just lying there face down, dosed into a stupor. Burn dressings covering her from the shoulder-blades up. She’ll have a fine set of scars, thanks to that filth! Master Rubor reckons she’ll be bald for life. Can you imagine that for a young woman looking at the lads and dreaming of a husband and babies?”

“No I can’t. But C’lef and I were talking about her problem.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.”

“Well are you going to let on?”

“We ... ll. You know those woodsy types down in Southern Boll?”

“Not personally, but I’ve heard tales of them. Why?”

A lot of them wear pull on knitted hats. We wondered whether, with winter coming on and all, we could get her a nice warm hat. Get them to knit her one specially in pink and purple.”

“She’d like the colours all right.”

“Then in summer she could wear one of the floaty things the Igen ladies wear to keep the sun off.”
Randeel actually chuc
kled. “I see. Not content with my girls dressing up as queen riders, you want them to go around looking like Southern Boll outlanders and Igen sand-dwellers. I’ll have to talk it over with Jeeno; but it’s workable.” His face fell. “When and if they ever let her home.”

They sat in silence and finished their klah.

“Do you want me to mend the thrower?”

“I’ve asked Gan to see to it. Unless it really NEEDS a Smith?”

“No not particularly. It’ll need a set of new hoses though.”

“I’ve got them in store.”

“Good.”

I’d better pay you for your work on my shutter. Do I owe you anything for the rest of your time?”

“No, I’m content with our original deal.”

Randeel fetched out his money bag and counted out the requisite marks into Byrt’s hand. “You know, I’m going to have to do something about Gan.”

“Gan? Why? I thought you trusted him.”

“I do. That’s why. Up till now Gan’s been my right-hand man. Now Rindeeno’s growing up, he wants to do more and take more responsibility. He can’t do that unless I take them AWAY from Gan.”

“I think the Crafts do it better. We appoint them out of course.”

“I can’t do that to Rindeeno; but what I CAN do is give Gan a place of his own. He’s really good with the vines. There’s a good hill about a mile downstream that would make a good set of vine terraces. When we take Ganzo to Ru-atha I’ll ask the Lord holder’s permission. Put Gan in charge. Give him a couple of helpers. There’s a kitchen lass he’s got he’s sweet on. I’ll send her down as housekeeper. Before long there’ll be a wedding.”

“That’ll be a good day. You could do with one.”

“Actually, most days are good ones. There are just a few that are sharding awful.”
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Old Apr 15 2008, 08:33 PM   #2
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Default Re: The Case of the Flaming Flamethrower

Sure hope there is more!!!
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Old Apr 17 2008, 09:38 AM   #3
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Default Re: The Case of the Flaming Flamethrower

Anybody else want/need to comment?
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Old Apr 17 2008, 10:07 AM   #4
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I like it very much. Will you be expanding on it?
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Old Apr 17 2008, 10:23 AM   #5
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Very good!
Any more?
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Old Apr 17 2008, 03:10 PM   #6
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I don't think I'll expand it, I see it more as a growing collection of short stories about Byrt and co.
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Old Apr 17 2008, 05:21 PM   #7
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Default Re: The Case of the Flaming Flamethrower

It'd be good to have mentions of Maree and co though.
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Old Apr 17 2008, 05:53 PM   #8
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Default Re: The Case of the Flaming Flamethrower

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I don't think I'll expand it, I see it more as a growing collection of short stories about Byrt and co.
Well, I'll try to be patient while you mull on the next idea for the collection.
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Old Apr 17 2008, 09:27 PM   #9
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Default Re: The Case of the Flaming Flamethrower

I look forward to Byrt's next story then.
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Old Apr 17 2008, 09:30 PM   #10
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Default Re: The Case of the Flaming Flamethrower

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I look forward to Byrt's next story then.
Me, too!!
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Old Jun 8 2008, 05:21 AM   #11
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Default Re: The Case of the Flaming Flamethrower

What hapen to the burnt twin. And Gan. What pass is this? The Case of the Flaming Flamethrower. What was that the SmithCrafter Found?
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Old Jun 8 2008, 05:24 AM   #12
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White Re: The Case of the Flaming Flamethrower

Note to other stories great. It's late here so I will have to reply later.
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Old Jun 8 2008, 11:26 PM   #13
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Default Re: The Case of the Flaming Flamethrower

I Want More!
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Old Jun 9 2008, 07:02 PM   #14
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Default Re: The Case of the Flaming Flamethrower

Ginny: I haven't put a time line on it (yet): probably fifth. Or fourth.

Maree and Gan come into "The Case of the Black-market Blackrock" (as minor characters)

There's also "The Case of the Hijacked Harness"; but that's back down the thread list a bit.

Maw: I'm thinking of writing up what Byrt was sorting out in South Boll, but I'm not sure I'm ready for that one. I'll have to get out the plot bunnies .....
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Old Sep 22 2008, 02:24 PM   #15
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Default Re: The Case of the Flaming Flamethrower

Pretty good. WHat will happen to the burned Twin, the man who messed witht he agenothree tank?
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Old Sep 22 2008, 02:51 PM   #16
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Pretty good. What will happen to the burned Twin, the man who messed with the agnothree tank? I'm anxious to see what'll happen next.:-)
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Old Sep 22 2008, 04:26 PM   #17
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Default Re: The Case of the Flaming Flamethrower

Byrt's first case (written up that is) is The Case of the Hijacked Harness.

If you want to meet up with Maree and Filona try 'Byrt 3' in the Exhibit Hall.
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Old Feb 17 2010, 08:14 AM   #18
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Default Re: The Case of the Flaming Flamethrower

Sorry for bringing this forward, I am just marking this to let it go into my subscriptions, so I can find it and read it later. No time right now.
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