Mercantile trading houses into the city for the festival of the Bazaar on September 15th. Road of the Gypsy. Sacre Coeur. Courage. Red rose. Red lips.
The Paladin’s blade a thorn.
This was the vote of confidence tonight. Leo… we agreed. It had been forming for a while. Mercury working.
Then as the party changes we join the old crew and new and powerful spell users. Can’t help good luck.
Non program behaviors. Resentful venting with no resolution or pattern break. To be given the honour… the program to receive, can get dangerous to be. Like a passive aggressive bully. No pain no gain. Learning to cut those classes for myself was how those basics evolved. Some never went outside the boundaries when the time for doing so was there. The new guard saved up to buy the experience of the road. Nup.
They never understand that anyone can hit the graveyard blues as a teenager. Drew Barrymore did. The Paladin’s mouth was warm on his first magic elixir before he could even form the drow tongue. Sunday morning worship… after the elders entertained the night before.
Take up thy axe. Festivals to play. Fools to play. Clowns. The Priestesses Council missed me yesterday as Lolth’s men sorted the Shinboner. The rank outsiders are trying to play. We build to a higher learning now. The road gathers up as a new caravan embarks like that meeting with the Cook. When the priestesses tried to push a play they accused others of. They thought the Paladin was with them. I guess I could turn away with compassion for their affliction.
Was sad to see this one go the way it chose to go. Nothing to do with my bloodlines. They were new and liberal. What we were brought up had less legitimacy than non practicing. Agree. Some things get stronger the more we survive. The Paladin must be an expert on combating sorcery.
Not that he seeks it here… or there. Never is a black rose to be looked at.