“ There are those as rich as kings but dress as peasants and worry not about funding. To visit their true homes one would see wealth of untold value scattered as dirt is in a hut. They know the monetary value of their possessions but they have long lost any true value to their owners. Experience is their currency and their curse. They dispense secrets of the ages as if discussing the weather. Few things have they not experienced so that very little gives them joy. They are the lost ones looking for new life while humoring the mortals around them.”
“ The characters are wandering through the bustling crowds of Lasopolis. A street conjuror is performing a simple summoning spell, something for the kiddies. A bit of odious purple powder in the fire, an incantation and out pops a saak-lizard or a muhmentarsh, writhing from the flaming brazier. But the conjuror has only a poor grasp of the arcane magical tongue. A few stuttered syllables could lead to Other Things coming through the brazier and giving the crowd more entertainment than they had paid for...”
“ There was a Beggar he was starring at me as if he is going to kill me but as I get nearer and nearer I found out his resisting something I don't know what but his really resisting something something un explainable and then I saw a knife on his hand and I though his going to kill me but when he raises the knife and then he stoped and said 'run child' that I knew his resisting himself' his blood thirsty self, to stop, to stop killing people at the other day when I go were he was I saw him lying DEAD! and I saw a knife stabed strait throught the heart and that knife was the one he tried to stab on me last day and I knew he KILLED HIMSELF because its the only way to get out of his problems...”
