If you had writing as bad as Corran's, you'd look for a way around it too.
What once existed is now shards of reality, floating in the sea of conflict...
Even the most despicable and evil Tyrant will be convinced they pale in comparison to this monstrosity.
"This sword! It's helping me connect all the dots!"
"Yeah, even the dots that don't exist!"
Despite becoming the god of creation later in life, Corran was renowned as being a master craftsman first, and possibly the worst cook to ever live second. This cooking set changed all that.
Named for Corran, the epitome of artificers and craftsmen; the flame of creation is often too powerful to control.
"I was out on that lake for a good eight hours trying to dreg up that seaweed, and boy did I get burned."
As Corran spoke, his walking stick started to glow, suddenly erupting flames over his left foot.
"What do you mean I changed clothes?"
"Sir- did you steal that cloak"
"Of course not! Haven’t you seen fabric change color before?"
In a crowded marketplace, a man is standing on a soapbox, orating. Some of the crowd are cheering, some hissing, some standing around saying "I can't hear a bl**dy word he's saying". It's a hustings for an election. The PCs can either leave, or stay and listen. If they do the latter, then they can vote too, and they might get quite involved in the cheering. Depending on who wins they might get quite involved in the post-election brawl too...
There are numerous possibilities with this encounter: the PCs might end up talking to one of the nervous candidates before their speech, and offer encouragement and support. Of course this candidate may well turn out to be someone with outspokenly unorthodox views, and the crowd don't take kindly to s/his supporters. Or maybe the seemingly innocuous candidate turns out to be a complete racist, and the PCs wander off embarrassedly, pretending they weren't talking to this person five minutes ago.