Luke R. Mitchell's Blog

Let me ask you something, Book Fan…

Can you think of the last time a good story scene got you all stirred up?

Maybe it was a wham-bam fight scene, a-la Jason Bourne.

Maybe it was something a bit more intimate and heated. (No judgies here!)

Maybe just a poignant one-liner that carried the weight of a whole franchise on its shoulders. (“I am Iron Man.”)

Me, I've always had this distinct memory of sitting there as a child, watching this action movie with my dad. (I think it was Airfo...

With one last rattle and clank, the Kalnythian Wilds completed its docking seal and began testing the atmos of the derelict mining station on the other side.

“Scans show seven troglodans aboard, Huntress,” came Soladi’s attentive voice from the forward deck.

Ser Iveera Katanaga absentmindedly dismissed her seat restraints—serpentine jin rising from her head to flick the command gesture almost of their own accord—and stood, peering out the viewport, wondering one last time what crucial piec...

With one last rattle and clank, the Kalnythian Wilds completed its docking seal and began testing the atmos of the derelict mining station on the other side.

Scans show seven troglodans aboard, Huntress, came Soladis attentive voice from the forward deck.

Ser Iveera Katanaga absentmindedly dismissed her seat restraintsserpentine jin rising from her head to flick the command gesture almost of their own accordand stood, peering out the viewport, wondering one last time what crucial piece of...

Jarek Slater took one last wistful glance down the bleak, sunbaked alleyway and sighed. It still looked too much like an escape route. He took one last pull from the dark bottle on hand and welcomed the fire that tickled its way down his throat, leaving traces of oak wood, cherries, and Pryce’s own handmade love dancing across his tongue in the aftermath.

“One last pull, sir?” came Al’s smooth English robot judgment in his earpiece.

Jarek scowled, then relented when he remembered his disem...

Jarek Slater took one last wistful glance down the bleak, sunbaked alleyway and sighed. It still looked too much like an escape route. He took one last pull from the dark bottle on hand and welcomed the fire that tickled its way down his throat, leaving traces of oak wood, cherries, and Pryces own handmade love dancing across his tongue in the aftermath.

One last pull, sir? came Als smooth English robot judgment in his earpiece.

Jarek scowled, then relented when he remembered his disembodied...

“They’re back.”

Rachel Cross froze at her workbench. Froze for too long—a full three count, at least—before her good senses caught back up, and she remembered she’d rather not let her unwanted visitor see just how much those two words rattled her cage. Slowly, carefully, she blew the tension out in a low sigh, ended the call to Michael that’d been pending for three concerning minutes now, and turned to face the music.

She didn’t need to ask who they were. No more than she needed to hear th...

Theyre back.

Rachel Cross froze at her workbench. Froze for too longa full three count, at leastbefore her good senses caught back up, and she remembered shed rather not let her unwanted visitor see just how much those two words rattled her cage. Slowly, carefully, she blew the tension out in a low sigh, ended the call to Michael thatd been pending for three concerning minutes now, and turned to face the music.

She didnt need to ask who they were. No more than she needed to hear the voice or...

It began, as friendships only rarely do among urchins, with a shy smile and an offered scrap of bread.

The boy peering down at me through dirty blond curls was even scrawnier than me, and at least a year or two younger. I was shocked at the sight. Not because I hadn’t heard him clumsily ascending to the sun-bathed rooftop from the alleyway below over the past several minutes. I’d carefully chosen my urban retreat for that exact reason. But that wasn’t why I was shocked. Nor was it for the fac...

It began, as friendships only rarely do among urchins, with a shy smile and an offered scrap of bread.

The boy peering down at me through dirty blond curls was even scrawnier than me, and at least a year or two younger. I was shocked at the sight. Not because I hadnt heard him clumsily ascending to the sun-bathed rooftop from the alleyway below over the past several minutes. Id carefully chosen my urban retreat for that exact reason. But that wasnt why I was shocked. Nor was it for the fact...

“Ashdautus Gruumsh vrasubatlat uk,” Ragnar muttered into his half-empty mug, for no reason other than that the words felt at home on top of the pleasant fire of the black grog burning its way down his throat.

If only those words still rang true.

For half a second, he nearly gave into the feral urge to slam the mug down and throw the entire damn table at the two halfling pixies who hadn’t stopped eying him since he’d walked into this flower-blooded tavern… what had it been, six drinks ago?