“ A fragment of letter drifts down to the street. You catch it, and unfold the charred edges.
'...know I will always lov..
..at never dies. It is th...
..f my passion that b...
...nd it cannot be ext..
....n heaven or....n hel..
....ill be by you...ide an...
......
...... yours foreve.........
... Mendates ........
...................................'
Looking up from the fragmented text you glance around at the rooftops. There. A minute snowfall of scraps of letters is cascading from the chimney of a half-timbered house nearby.”
“ When was the last time a character caught a cold or flu? Real people get them every now and again even with solid heating and dry interiors. Your characters are out in the cold and wet, and even inside is not always dry and warm. Imagine having to stop your dungeon crawl, sitting in a tight defensive position, while you all are feverish.”
“ A beautiful, green, peaceful pasture land, rolling hills and flesh grass, with boiling mud flats? And steaming geysers? What fun.”