After she ate the middle part of my wife’s body she gestured me out the door. Then she paddled me to the den of the Sage. All the while I stared at her rune marked back, my hand on the hilt of my sword, and I thought of my father and the hens.
Bards and minstrels, if business is slow, will moonlight as freelance diplomats, couriers, or spies.
Ideas ( Society/ Organization ) | October 17, 2002 |