“ The party comes across a nice hermit in the woods. He gives them food and lodging for the night. They awaken to his terrified screams. 'East! It's east! Stop it! It'll kill us all!' The poor horror-stricken hermit dies thrashing in agony, one boney arm outstretched, his finger pointing to the east.”
“ Imagine a tribe of nomads where all the males have the blessing of being were-stallions. The tribe would not need to have ordinary horses to move around, all mounted warriors would be female and a curious custom could be that when a couple gets married, the girl rides her chosen to the altar.”
“ 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.”
