Unimpressed by the impotent threats of the ghostly guard/prisoner Pardrik or the pitiful statues of the teenage Lady Lamenta surrounding him, Fortu instead examines the solid cold-iron door and its full sized representation of, who can only be, the wide stanced, hands-on-hips, eye-patch wearing Lord Urdurel.
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Assassins to the Slaughter
“What do you mean ‘All six of them are dead’?!” The voice is so screeching and vitriolic, that the lower status Witch doesn’t dare look up, ...
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Welcome back to the world of Fissa gentle (and not so gentle) men! For slightly over a hundred years, life has been good. Since the long a...
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It was nice to get a unanimously positive response to my ‘Shall we play or shall we go’ post, albeit with an odd caveat. I hadn’t even remot...
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It’s been nearly four months since our last online session and over a month since my last overblown Orange-inn expositional post. I’ve hope...
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