No high school teens who turn out to be wonder-pilots here.
Look at that, pale as death and she’s got her neck covered, betcha fifty she’s a fang-banger
A vampire Blood Doll, her master, and the workshop they share
We need to gather the cam-droppers and bulldog gears off of number six, yes the wrecked number six. Then, with those pieces and the short drive off of number three we can put number four back into action.
Abelard von Richter
Keep your wits about you man, they are only bullets. Not like we have to brave the damned bird.
Col. Chapman at the Battle of Miner Hill
Get to it, you mealy boned maggots! That stone isn’t going to cut itself!
I’m gonna be somebody, someday!
‘Don’t you go foolin around in the fens buy. Moeder Moeras don’t care none if you mean no offence or just want to fill your wicker creel with fish. She’ll have your guts for fishnets and your bones for soup.’
Paulis the Riverguide
I need the shoe ads put in before the table of contents, and put the perfume ads behind the letters to the editor, don’t make me get the Sanderson data again on ad placement, and where in the blazes is my double-latte?
Ariel Kincaid, VP of Glitter Magazine
The surprising thing about young fools is how many survive to become old fools.
Lithe as a willow and just as flexible
Ever collecting books, knick-knacks, gewgaws and endless heaps of strange oddments and tidbits
Brave Olgiherga Ogerhunch, ogre hunter of the Ostrobogs and fenstalker.
We all go a little mad…sometimes
You’re a mean one Old Crynog
You really are a skug
Halfling children’s rhyme
Life dies in my wake, sacrificing itself to my hunger
The Masque of Hunger
Good and evil? I see neither, I only see law and order opposing chaos and anarchy. Anarchy means blood, death, and poverty. I’ll take order and riches over that.
Sokolov the Axiomancer
A demon’s kiss burns with lust and with shame. So do their secrets and their magic.
30 painted ladies of the oldest profession. Reader discretion is advised.
The 13 living statues of the Dal Nastro ruins
THE GNOMES OF UDNALOR: Part II
Having left the hush of the upper halls, and crossed the depths of the Braeth (an underground river, which is not all that deep because bear in mind we're talking about gnomes here), you would find yourself in Wattling Street, the main road through Udnalor. It's actually a long, well-worn passageway which opens out eventually into the City Centre. The gnome-buildings branch off Wattling Street as small burrows or caverns with boulder-blocked doorways for privacy. You can find armourers and smiths (though their armour tends to be on the small side for humans to buy) and many other types of trader.
There are many streets, ginnels and cooies which run off Wattling Street, the most famous probably being Smell Street, the domain of the infamous gnomish alchemists, the eponymous smell being very distinctive: the stench of cooking fungus, the aroma of subterranean spices, the pungent reek of rotting carcasses (used in some of the more notorious experiments). An encounter with an alchemist can really be spiced up (excuse the pun) if you have a well-stocked herb cupboard, and actually make up the potions, elixirs and draughts as they are ordered by characters.