“Esperanza’s not the swishiest sword this side of Anarch land... and buglier than the jugliar." Bugly=ugly. Jugly=Nickname for a jug-tug; a windpipe-grabbing parasite. Jugliar=The sum total of all jug-tugs, used as we might say the word ‘humanity’, only less complimentary. “So, another sheet?” A nice, fiery dash of consolation. Mojo, spread eagle across Halo's unwelcoming lap like a dying whale on a mudflat, Azrael, side-stepping, strafing, delivering flawless swipes and slashes, as if a vicious army of bloodthirsty Anarchists were being cut down one by one in his wake... “Better pass.” And lo, proof that even breeze belles can walk straight lines, because whatever your style, it’s good to be prepared.
The round had passed. The freezes on the archways of the grand entrance hall said so. It was time for the assessment to begin. For the fresher’s worlds to grow a little wider. They were all due to set off at different times. One party after another. Otherwise it would be like the start of a marathon and any halfintelligent Anarchists would fizz-bomb the lot of them the moment they stepped off the plateau. Chaos rains! Mojo had gone already. Remedy had wished her luck. She was going to need it. One eye went one way, one the other; a spoony destitute dumped slap-bang in downtown Jinsville.
Psytopia Adagio 1
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