The Frewyn Herald: Home of the Haanta Series

Though Danaco threatens his crew with taking a toe or a finger for poor conduct, he hardly ever acts on his promises; he does not need to, really: the threat of being slashed by the captain's sword is far worse than what any physical punishment can offer. The movement around the table slowed. Everyone carefully putting the tiles back into the wrapping cloth stopped to look, eyes flared in horror, mouths gaped and bowels gave way, and apprehension governed the deck.                 “It weren’t us, captain, promise! Us’n just picked it up this way!” Feiza cried, his hands trembling. “It musta gotten chipped in the mixin’!”                 Danaco silently took the tile from Feiza and held it up to the moonlight. His gaze tapered. “I believe you mean it was chipped from your mixing.”                 Feiza hung his head and put his hands in his lap. “…Mebbe,” said he meekly, his shoulders withering. “Us’n mighta skimmed it on the table-like.”                 The captain a

The Old Lucentian game of Machanabi  has many rules, and while the game easily played, it is not so easily won, as Peppone soon finds out:                 T he turn was passed to Bartleby, who drew a tile he did not want, grieved about it, and tossed it out. Danaco drew a tile he knew he would not need and therefore hardly looked at it before passing it over to Ujaro, who picked it up and put it in his hand, though he had no need for it, and tossed out one in the pair that he was unable to finish.                 “How the minnows will flail about,” Danaco sighed, shaking his head. “Magochiro, give me the tile. You will lose the round anyway. It is only a matter of points for you, whereas if you make the round a draw, you will have a Bartleby and his bricks to deal with.”                 Magochiro smirked at the old man, who was muttering to himself, trying to work out how it was he had a winning hand and was not allowed to call it.                 “Oh, because I have the one h