Topaz you say, looks like a good quality citrine to me. I’ll give you 8 pieces of silver for it.
Galvinus driving a bargain.
A half-breed son of the Volgotoi, Vorodon seeks to find his place in a world that rejects his kind.
Inspired by a secret muse, a humble man sketches heroes and battles for the folk of the Market Quarter.
Kranno the Goblin didn’t know what to do with his mastery of the art of skulking until he met the frustrated poet Vonyich Festelgabber.
A quiet old veteran that likes to visit the market in the evening, “Chivver” is an easy man to overlook. On the other hand, he overlooks very little of what happens around him…
Shrouded in rags, this fallen foreign nobleman serves as the lethal right hand of the queen of the beggars.
The Pretty Princess Scroll
Man, too, is a primal creature, though he binds himself with the chains named Reason and Law, locked link by link from birth. Yet, those locks can be opened, the links broken, in both the savage world of the street-slum, and in the gilded cages of nobility.
One such creature is the petty pirate, Gurad Sorgon. Unknown to those that dismiss him as being merely an ugly face among the multitude of floating scoundrels that abound on the lawless seas, this marauder conceals within him the soul of a prehistoric terror.
Ssao E’hzeir, once a soldier, then a mandarin-magistrate, and then a clan-father, was rewarded for years of faithful service with the post of alytarch.
"You would be wise not to cross me. I have powers that you cannot even begin to comprehend. Do not anger me, lest I turn you into a goose, fat and ugly. Then if you are lucky and I am in a forgiving mood, I won’t eat you for supper."
Based on Muro’s Archaic Words Challenge, the word myomancer.
“That’s got be the worst assassin I’ve ever seen.”
"I have seen the beast, tentacled and cruel. Tore out me eye, it did, like pickin’ a plum. It’s cursed, I tell ye, cursed to its cold heart."
-Jerboam the Sailor
Misunderstood and much maligned, the Hek is a traveller who dreads violence. If it only understood the violence it caused.
Neither here nor there, the City of Shadows borders on the twilight of existance…
Bad luck just seems to follow him everywhere. Some say its a curse, others its just in his head. But there’s one thing everyone can agree about Poor Josias: he is a sad, sad man.
There are hardly any excesses of the most crazed psychopath that cannot easily be duplicated by a normal kindly family man who just comes in to work every day and has a job to do.
—(Terry Pratchett, Small Gods)
"Thentr was made from moonlight and flame; he has killed one of the mighty rulers of the skies; he has yet to return home".
-Old Cro, the story teller
Yeah yeah, I know the Duke. Of course I do. P. Donkey Donque travels in some high circles, jester.
Never a more petty and larcenous trio will there be found.
Ibn Al-Fadyn is no ordinary weaver of tales, but instead tells tales of infromation and observation.
No, no. This hasnt been done correctly. Move aside imbecile…
If it was a castle, it was the strangest one he had ever seen.
He of course saw the main tower - taller than anything he had seen outside of Stoneholt, the spire looked fragile and was topped by a glassed-in chamber.
The outer wall was so gently sloped that it would have only stopped a horde of hobbling old men, an able-bodied soldier could stride up to its crest with little effort. Within one saw a huge, nearly perfect bowl-shaped area with the base of the tower in the centre, covered in hundreds of mirrors.
This structure is a massive solar collector designed by the Wizard-King Aardwal in centuries past. He used the concentrated light in his investigations into the magic of light, and in the fashioning of flash crystals.