Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-17114085-20151110155038/@comment-5543592-20151129024559

Incanus sneezed.

Kyrnil was in front of him and the Nord's massive boots had churned up sand, which the Breton had shortly inhaled.

He decided he hated Elsywer. It was certainly beautiful. With the dunes, and the sandstone buildings, and the fantastic architecture, things no one in High Rock could dream off. But there was sand. It was everywhere. It got in your clothes, on your clothes, in your food, under your nails, in your hair, in eyes, you breathed it in constantly, it filled your shoes, was hard to walk in when it was deep enough. Not to mention the heat. How a bunch of hairy cat people managed to survive here was beyond Incanus.

In fact, that was probably a great mystery. He wondered...