Recent content by Quinton

At the stone golem’s words, Quinton simply shrugged in return. Sure, his companion was suddenly a bit less terrifying, he realized, now that they both were emptyhanded of said gem and said golem wasn’t pounding Quin into the ground. Yet, all things considered, the halfling grew up in the streets...

Once the gem began to be carried away by a pack of rats after having struck the ground, and the giant stone golem man thing made to run after them to get his gem back, well Quinton didn’t have to think much on this topic or linger around. He got up and began to run as well. In an entirely...

Well this scene had started out well but was suddenly far from swell. It was one thing for a thief to keep something that wasn’t his from being seen between his fingers. You know, pleading his case so eloquently as Quinton did and all, lying through his teeth and generally denying that there was...

More expensive than diamond. Quinton made mental note. Cheaper than elven emerald. Whatever that meant. What even was an elven emerald? One could only imagine. This mineral could evidently buy him five days worth of good food and good lodging, however, which was something to consider along with...

Drat! It was a simple enough question and an easy enough trick, Quinton reckoned. Get the stone contraption to tell him how much said gem was worth and then he’d decide whether it was hidden in his hand or not. What happened? The unexpected. The golem redirected with accusations of philosophy...

The giant rock monster pointed toward the guy who, to be honest, was a lot smaller. Is…is he pointing at the gem? No, surely not, given that it was hidden within the palm of the small man’s hand. Pointing at my hand, then, mhm, yes, must be that, quite right. “P-P-Purple, you say, mate? Alas...

If writing had a soundtrack, and its music was diegetic, then it and the ambience might sound something like this. That click-clack of footsteps and clack-click of horse trots amid the odd roll of the wagon and clanking of pots and pans, clinking of glasses and dishes, as all those who walked or...

The markets were alive with activity that day, nothing unusual given the inhabitants and the traders and travelers passing through. The locals wanted their meats and cheeses, fruits and vegetables, visitors wanted to buy and sell wares and restock on supplies, hunters their hides and smiths...

Why...why did they...forget me..? Why was I abandoned and left by my own parents? Like her question, maybe, there was no answer. Not yet, at least. In time, who could say for either person? At the moment, they just embraced, shared one another's pain in silence despite the rain that...

It wasn’t the rain. They were safe from getting wet here under the roof of the stables. There was no storm waging, not so as to disturb the horses. They didn’t even whinny. No one whined, it was quiet, but there was no denying the tears that twisted down the girl’s cheeks in rivulets. She didn’t...

Had the quiet not have been broken that moment, had Maranae not have spoken, said something, anything, then Quinton just might have spent the rest of the night with his gaze into the rain. Time might have ended for him, as surely as music did, as one song shifted into the next one in that tavern...

“What in the lowest heavens!?” Quinton spoke low to himself, all alone in his humble little barrel, having no clue as to what was next to his own presence. Hopefully it’s the blasted chef! I’m hungry! And there’s no fresh fish in this insufferable darkness! Though, the poor bloke didn’t even...

Unexpected. The hand. The moment. The journey. This was, for all intents and purposes, an unexpected journey. Ever since the tavern, their encounter, arguably random, yes, merely a coincidence. Chance at its best. Fateful? Perhaps, there at Quinton’s table, where he met a girl, tall as a woman...

Maranae… Quinton repeated the name, sounding it out in his mind just in case he butchered it between his lips and she ruined him with her fist for it. Mara…nae… Like marmalade? Maybe…Mar…anae…like Mare-On-Aye... Anyway… “It’s a pretty name, my lady.” Yes. She was a lady to him in comparison to...

As she visibly jerked her hand back, admittedly, Quinton had half-expected the gesture. In fact, how dare he even attempt it? He stiffened, he gulped back dread, frightened. The nerve of him! Oh, sure, he was only trying to console the young woman, the tall girl, but he made a mistake at that...