Peers, I find myself at an impass. Though I straddle betwixt Blue-Scry and hex; I can not support, even remotely, the plots of its master.
What would thou have me do? Should I keep a voice upon this site or begin to muster elsewhere?
By order of the king:
If thou art a merchant, thou art not allowed to portend the future to speculate the price of goods.
"Tremble watchman! I am the mighty Demon-Lord"
All-right, where be ye fief then? What crop doth they grow?
Were the Missus and I ever to be blessed, I quite like this one.
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About once a day some old person portends me the coming of the demon hordes and the end of the realms as we know it.
Ser, I asked thee if thou had any trade goods to declare, not thy life story.
Oft, I find myself bereft of words in dark hours. The good fight must continue, will continue, and shall continue.
War cries, I find, are oft more parts terror than bravado. The cry is of men steeling themselves to face fate: a forward to butcher one another over some other man's command.
If thou sees the enemy prince upon horse wearing a crown and not a helmet, thou hath an ethical duty to dome him with a crossbow.
I am quite fond of redemption arcs. Alas, it requires a villainous character to hath satisfying redemption, and such character is not I.
Being mean makes me feel bad.



