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…
A little snug for me, but you…a perfect fit.
Magic has brought us to this point of self-destruction,” the Captain said. “It’s the dichotomy of our curiosity and greed, which are ingrained—greed, because we had to survive because we were always hungry, so we had to gather things, and curiosity, which brought us out of the trees
“It is not merely the things lurking within the shadows that you must be wary of. Sometimes, the shadows themselves can be your enemy.” - Moraten Li
“It is said that the shadows hold many dangers, and that is true. I am one of those dangers.” - Saja Jyn
Few would guess that this kindly old man with the uncombed hair was the willing accomplice in many of the assassinations in the last two decades.
Before there was the National Enquirer, there was Kaboo.
Though he like a bit of the drink, he is the proper organizer for the district.
A freed air elemental, with a reason to stick around.
James Barley is a hard drinking, minimum-effort working hired hand…
Need a mercenary, or two, or fifty? Don’t know whether to hire the Crimson Brigade or the Azure Legion? Unsure of Tim the Dragon-slayer’s effectiveness? Don’t know how to contact a group to set up a contract? Then come see Arkath, the man who can answer all those questions and more.
Thoral’s grim brigade is a mercenary unit under curse. They are led by Thoral, a half-undead half-realdead reanimated barbarian who negotiates the brigades affairs in a terse and direct whisper.
I don’t know what it was that set Shoutin’ Sam off, but when he left, it was like goddamned Apaches had busted in here and had a scalpin’ party in the saloon…
Failure. For most, it is an occasional streak of bad luck to be suffered. For others… well, it’s a living.
The saloon was smokey on the hot prairie night. She looked over her fan at her fellow players. The fan hid her smile, but not the smile in her eyes. “Well Gentlemen, I think I won’t call you on that.” Her dollars hit the table. “I think I’ll raise.”
Rain slowly builds, thunder and lightning continue to roll in. Road muddies, horse/wagon getting stuck in the mud. Thunder strikes coinciding with a deep hole a horse just walked in, horse panics, breaks its leg (maybe just sprain?). Horse is decompacitated and the rain just went from pouring to an all out monsoon. Shelter needs to be found, horse needs to be taken care of, covered in mud, add the posibility of items being lost to the confusion with the wind and dealing with spooked animals.