“…and he says to Matthias, he says to him, ‘Tell your father he’s a right maggot and not to show his face round here again.’ Well, didn’t have much to do with me, I s’pose, but I just didn’t think that was anyway to talk to a customer. So I decided I wouldn’t be showin’ my face round there no more, neither. So when you’re headed out east, don’t go to Groz’s. Groz’s Oasis it’s called–did I mention the name?” Continue reading →

The morning was a jewel, and the sun alighted on its every facet. It danced along the quivering blades of grass and splashed itself recklessly across the faces of boulders that stood to meet it. It rippled along the billowing tents at camp, and it glinted off the gentle rapids of the river as they murmured along. Continue reading →

The most valuable thing that Fort Blakely offered was a crowd to slip into.

It was the largest of the settlements that dotted the moors, and as a bustling trading outpost, it was known for its diversity–it wasn’t unusual to see dwarves, elves, and goblins browsing its shops or drinking at its taverns. Even the occasional merfolk could be found, enjoying the damp air and moist earth. Continue reading →