High Quality
Open the downloaded document, and select print from the file menu (PDF reader required).
Copyright © 2009 by David Moles. Licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution- Share Alike 3.0 Unported License. For permissions beyond the scope o this license, please contact the author.
o spiky-black shapes each with its own trail o shadow like the tail o
a cartoon meteor, darkening the tropical-blue sky, scattering rightened
critters rom the scaled rootops. They were every race in the Legion:
mandrill-aced bavians, jackal-headed anubit and anubim, black-beaked
corven and leathery-winged gaunts, ery clowns and scaled salamanders,
goblins, mechanists, satyrs, araneae, orcas and cuttlemen. They were,
every one o them, extravagantly mounted, every one level-capped, every
one gaudily equipped and maximally bued.
Dragontown was a neutral town, a sleepy town deep in the mid-levels.
A stopping-point, once, or guests on their way to the Outlands or the
Newlands or the Deathlands; but these days even the Newlands were
old news. There were only a handul o guests in Dragontown to bear
witness to the Legion’s invasion, to applaud or run or cover or (like the old
perroquet airmaster Valerius Redbeak, who had given up battlegrounds
and quests alike in the long-ago days o the seventh expansion, and now
spent his days shing o Bonetalon Pier) simply roll their eyes, according
Add a Comment