The Earth shifts, revealing a horror beyond time and reason…
It’s cold up this high, the air is thin and hard to breath. We should find the entrance in the next day or so. I can’t eait to find it, I can’t wait to be out of this wind…
Bards and minstrels, if business is slow, will moonlight as freelance diplomats, couriers, or spies.
Ideas ( Society/ Organization ) | October 17, 2002 |