“ Imagine that all the humanoid and demi-human laguages are actually the same, but pronounced with outrageous accents and bizarre idiom. All the elves have a French accent, all the Dwarves have Swedish, Dragons have a Pakistani accent...”
“ AutoMedon A mechanical poet of renown not for his vast catalog of poetry, but for his complete lack of anything written or spoken, having had no output in his programmed profession. His creator is unknown or at least unaccredited, and there are those in great number in the artistic world who wonder and marvel at his inability to produce poetry, crediting that flaw to his creator who is unknown or at least un-credited. There is also a small faction of scholars who believe that when he finally, finally speaks, it will be the most beautiful or sorrowful verse ever spoke or will ever be spoken. Whether his creator is among either group or dead is unknown. AutoMedon sits alone under a tin roofed enclosure, upon a stone chair, with his gaze off in the distant as if thinking.
'It's strange to look at this mechanical man and think what thoughts are working through its' workings or even if the damn thing is' Aralis of Qurim, poet and pottery salesman”
“ In the inaccessible plateau of Hor-Nushan, there was always little crime. But in late autumn comes a maddening wind, that can drive the best man crazy, if only for a short time, make him turn on himself or others. For murder, the locals have devised a special punishment: the murderer has to dig a well for the family of his victim. The area is very dry, and having a good well is a source of wealth and prestige. In this way, the murderer atones for his deed and repays the family; perhaps they even find peace.”
