“ According to the Journals of Lord Goidol, the people of the Southern Cities wear heavy coats all the year round, despite the stifling tropical heat. They claim that to do otherwise angers the gods, and it is true that visitors who refuse to don the local garb are often struck down with a paralytic fever.”
“ A group of individuals* gather up and search for, 'The rod of Lordly Might.' Here's the catch, no just any individual is welcomed. There will be a meeting on sundown* in an old bar. As it is, a war is going on between the Eastern Front, and the Western Front. The bar/tavern is in the middle of both lands.
On the same night of the meeting, there's another meeting with the Red Rose (Eastern) and the Black rose (Western).
Once on the mission, there will be other individuals met and given information... there will not be an easy destiny, but nonetheless and adventure to remember.
***
I used INDIVIDUALS for the fact that you can be any species (just keep away from the elemental and supernatural creatures.). Here are some suggestions: Vampire/ress, Adhiel (Elf), Half-Adhiel (Half-Elf), Orc, Human, Half-Human...
Please do not be: Orc, Troll, Frost/Forest/Urban/Dessert Monsters, Giants, and Titans. Note that you can still be one, just preferably not one.
I used SUNDOWN for a realistic reason (Vamps, Giants, and others meet at night). You don't meet someone who works for the Eastern/Western Kings during the day. I expect some drunks, bar fights, and bloodshed in the story. Mild or no Language is acceptable (unless unexceptable by the MODS).”
“ 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”