"Hail! You there, farmer. We are in need of aid; do you have a temple or a priest? We ran into some bandits up the road there and are injured. Jonst won’t last much longer." A large man bellowed from the broken roadside.
"Of course stranger. You can find Luayas in the center of the village proper continue on until you see a large apple tree; she can aid your wounded. Please be gentle and offer tithes for her generosity." A gentle eyed man in homespun clothing, simple yet comfortable in the heat.
"Thank you farmer, we are in your debt. What does Luayas look like so that we might find her quickly? Does she stay by the tree often?" saying over his shoulder in thanks as he half pushed, half carried his companion along.
"No stranger." The farmer laughed, "She is the tree."
"Whatcha doin? What for? How you gonna do it? I just wanna know. I wonder about a lot of things. Don’t you wonder about stuff? You do? I can help you, if you want me to. That way we can both know."
Heroes, like legends, usually have a basis in fact. And, just like with legends, the facts rarely live up to the myth.
George the Dragonslayer is one such hero.
A demon’s kiss burns with lust and with shame. So do their secrets and their magic.
You say you have no place to go, friend? That you do not even know, if it is worth going anywhere? I hear there is a place where they might help you.
Space-Faring, Hard-Rocking, Metal-Grinding, Star-Tripping, Deathdealing, Dwarves.
A Watch Officer tasked with combatting gangs throughout the city. His network of contacts is remarkable.
30 painted ladies of the oldest profession. Reader discretion is advised.
A priestess-turned-bouncer because of her devotion to her faith.
A gravedigger who defies the stereotypes. A regular at the Mausoleum.
The 13 living statues of the Dal Nastro ruins
Why did you buy all those Iron Spikes?
"You may have wondered what lead me down this path? It was the simple observation I made while escavating the tomb of an ancient chieftan If only these bones could talk…"
From the personal account of Meridah Onware, in discussion with Professor Siana Tamar.
Desperado, oh, you ain’t gettin’ no younger:
Your pain and your hunger, they’re drivin’ you home.
And freedom, oh freedom,
Well, that’s just some people talkin’
Your prison is walking,
Through this world all alone.
First, you get the gold. Then you get the power. I could care about the women, I’ve had the men in the palm of my hand since I was 17.
Memoirs of Wealth, excerpt
"I’ve heard poets say a pen is mightier than a sword. Foolishness, mostly. But I’ll say this. A pen in my brother’s hand is worth a hundred swords in a hundred soldiers’ hands."
- General Kailan Sylanthin
"... I *hate* being right."
The Arcade is a long narrow entertainment district built upon the dried up Arcadey creek. This jurisdictional no mans land has become a vibrant section of the city.
The guards who spend their working lives behind the walls of the Paul and Peter Fortress, watching over the scum of society so that you don’t have to.
30 musicians to entertain at balls, taverns, and other social gatherings.