conversational

Cassius was tired. Not in the normal sense. After all it was two hours passed midnight and he was fully dressed and meandering the courtyards beneath his Dreadlord sanctioned living space. No, Cassius was tired of it all. The political obtuseness, the becoming numb to slaughter. All of it. It...

The death of a dream is a terrible thing to endure. Yet Trajan found himself suffering this very fate. Here now in a jail within Alliria, not the prison wherein he was certain to go, but mingled in with the drunks and louts and minor offenders and those likewise awaiting conviction, separated...

/Where The Griffin Sings/ Not the richest nor the poorest tavern in Vel Anir, but easily one of the most quiet in the city. A place where someone could hood and be unbothered by the mewlings of the riff raff or anyone with a request. A wonderful place for someone of a noble house to be hiding...