Matthew Gagan is +Hard

In his vest and duster Jackson walks the pier where the unfortunate stink and are like ghosts.

By fanboat and skiff, seeking refuge, more and more of these have come to The Wake’s least submerged tower, this Camelot where Jackson is troubled knight.

Gaunt and of indeterminate gender, this one intrigues Jackson. Their eyes were recently put out.

“From Haaran?” Jackson questions. Most refugees are from that tower; its hardholder Dustwich is a scary fucker.

“Mmm.” affirms Tao.

At that amorphous word, Jackson is unnerved. Interesting.

Jackson’s hand gropes for his revolver and he opens his brain to the psychic maelstrom.