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The sounds of battle were cleaning up outside, but Torquesville was not there to hear them.  Or if he was, he was willfully ignoring them.  Instead he was focused upon the dirtflecked, unpolished lookingglass set before him, its edges rough yet straight upon his washstand.  He was eying his reflection within, mysteriously, as if expecting sudden moves, though none were made.  The face within rotated back and forth like a cobra, moving from one near profile to the other, the eyes locked in place, forever staring outwards.  He noticed, as if for the first time, though also he was certain the thought had crept about before, that he could not quite place the age of the face behind the glass.  It was much too set, too defined to be within the third decade of life, or even into the early years of the fourth.  Yet the comparative lack of wrinkles meant he could not have been older than five and thirty.  No face should have appeared quite so lived in, and yet so unmarked.  And to top it off, the subtle, practiced motions of the face, the dart of the eyes, the slow raising of brow, the set of the mouth, betrayed the easy practice of a soul that had been living for over a century.  It was a face that was perfectly unnatural.  And it was his. 

"How weird," he thought.  "Men should no longer be living."

Outside, there could be heard the sound of a man falling to ground nearby the tent, and being set upon and torn open by long blades, screaming in wet horror.  The dying sounds caught hold of Torquesville and pulled his soul back across whatever oceans it had crossed.   The fae were making sport of another town, and he had business out-and-about.

DnD: An Introduction

Once upon a time, a new race of creatures was born from out of the earth, a race known as man.  This race walked upright, and  had thoughts, and stared back in on itself in contemplation, and contemplated that contemplation.
And when this bright light was lit, it threw flickers of light out into the shadows, and saw echoes of itself there, spirits walking in the dark. Spirits of the earth and water and sky.  And the spirits, who had always been there, stared back at man, contemplating its contemplation.  Then the spirits came and walked with man, and took man's form, or some form of man.
The spirits of the earth took the form of dwarves.  The spirits of the air took the form of elves.  The spirits that walked between them became gnomes. But there was darkness and chaos in the spirits of the world as well, and some took the form of goblins and drow, and other things besides.
Other spirits took other forms, and others remained spirits, but the ones who walked with man took to the mundane world lived and bred and died.
And so it has been, for countless generations.

DnD: quick shots

• There are large markets to the west of the Merchants Quarters, where most of the city will mingle and exchange goods.
• The dwarf and halfling settlements within the city walls reside along southern bend of the river Gar, just north of the second set of docks in that region. Both the dwarves and halfings are heavily involved in the shipping economy of the city, though dwarves are more involved as stevedores and bookkeeping and halfings are more involved as sailors.  
• A series of canals is dug up from the river below where the dwarves reside, to allow more ships to dock in the city.
• Dwarftown, as it is called, is made up primarily or small, squat houses, all tightly joined at the sides in thin, narrow streets.  The houses have no more than two stories and are connected below by subterranean tunnels that also lead out into other parts of the city.  The entrances are scattered throughout the entirety of the city, coming up to entrances peppering the city streets, where they are guarded by dwarven guards.   A price of one silver piece is required for their use, and in this way the guards earn their keep.  For elves and half-elves, it's one gold piece. 
• Halfsburg is built in a crazyquilt of styles, stealing architectural ideas from all the other areas, but smaller, as if the halfings are trying to tell everybody else that anything they can do, halflings can do as well.  Just smaller.
• The human section of town is north of the dwarves and to the east of the main market, and closely resembles the streets of ancient Rome, with large public buildings built over narrow or wider streets, store fronts and artisan shops opening up onto the ground floor, with living quarters rising to fearsomely high levels, five, sometimes seven or eight, into the air.  The human section of town, which already resides on a slight rise in the land, is easily the tallest section of the city.
• The tallest building in the entire city is a single white tower (though other towers exist, especially in Merchants Quarters) that rises above the human's section of town.  There are no doors and windows opon the lower levels, though several windows can be seen on the top five, where lights can be seen in the night.  It is whispered that a magician of great power lives there.
• The elves' district lies to the north of the humans' district (neither district has anything like an official name).  It is built of a number of towers, houses on stilts, or just generally tall, thin buildings, the elves in town trying to create structures that mirror the tree dwellings that they have been used to in past centuries.  The streets are more like mazes that roads, and often require one to travel upwards along staircases and ladders.  Bridges of wood and rope connected the raised dwellings along the upper levels.  It's almost impossible to travel through the elves district in any mode other than by foot. 
• Between the elves and human district there is a kind of no race's land, not as run down as the Thieves District, that includes races of all sorts.  The buildings here, like Halfburg,  come in all architectural varieties, but normally sized (well, except for halfling dwellings). The East Gate is in this section, and is run by an order of Paladins devoted to Safe Passage.  "Safe passage to you" is their offical greeting, and this phrase resides above the Gate in both Common and Elvish.  An official donation, meant to fund people's safe passage, is required, but is only five coppers.
• Another halfing dwelling is to the west of the elves district, along the bend of the Gar.  It is called Shantytown.  Lying on marshland, it is made of a number of houses on small raised stilts, connected by small paddling boats and boardwalks.  It is closely connected economically to the isle of Gibbob to the east.
• On the northern side of the bend in the Gar is farmland, farmed entirely by human's, that serves as a source of produce that can be protected should the city ever be put to siege.  The North Gate lives along here, and is run by an order of monks known as the Kites.  No toll is required, but donations to the upkeep of the Gatehouse are accepted.  There is also an order of clerics who meet in this region around a large standing stone every thirdday.  
• The days of the week are Oneday, Twoday, Thirdday, Fourthday, Fiveday, Sixday, Seventhday or suchlike.  Some races vary on which days are numbers and which are numerals and which are orders.  The elves use only orders (firstday, secondday, etc.).

DnD: The Naysayers

Nobody really knows precisely how long the Naysayers have been around.  They probably can trace their origins back any of a dozen among several hundred minor thief gangs that have sprung up and faded away within Leoden, but it is known that they came to control the Thieves Gate around twenty summers past.  Previous to that summer the Thieves Gate had been run by a gang referred to as the Joykills.  However, on Midsummer's Night, the windows and spaces under doors and the cracks between stones and boards were all seen to shoot out a bright sickly green light.  The light lasted for several hours, and nobody dared approach the building.  Nothing could be heard within.  The next morning, nothing, not a single living person could be found within the Thieves Gate. 
The Naysayers moved in before anyone else was willing to, and have been there ever since. 
The leader of the Naysayers is a human named Thome d'Arg.  Thome is tall, and rail thin, with a severe scar running over his eye and down past his lips.  (People debate whether the eye is real or not; it looks real enough but most people are not willing to ask.)  His hair is a dark, coal black, and he is always seen playing with a long, slim, expertly made dagger.
How many Naysayers there actually are in the city is hard to say, but those who care for such things estimate that there can be no more than twenty or thirty.

The Greatest Album Of All Time.

I spent like around eighty minutes writing this to post elsewhere, so figured I would post it here, just for a sense of completeness: 

Have the day off, since I'm working Saturday, so have been sitting around doing nothing, surfing the internet listening to the Beatles. Listened to all of Revolver and Sgt. Pepper straight through, among other stuff.
I can definitely see the appeal of Revolver as a choice for best Beatles album, especially if one prefers earlier Beatles. It's definitely the best record the Beatles had produced up until that point. Sure, none of the songs are bad, but none of the Beatles songs are really ever bad (well, maybe some of the later avant garde stuff). It's that all of the songs are really, really good (except Dr. Robert), and some are among the finest works of recording art ever produced. Taxman. Eleanor Rigby. For No One. Tomorrow Never Knows.
But I still think Sgt. Pepper is just ultimately a better work of Art. I already mentioned its sense of continuity, which Revolver lacks. Perhaps it's just that I am resistant to proclaiming Revolver the best, just because I feel it's so interchangeable with their earlier stuff. Really, it was! Revolver was released in the U.S. with track on it from Rubber Soul. Sgt. Pepper was the first record that was significant and defined enough that the songs on it could not be split up and repackaged on their way across the Atlantic. Sonically, it was just too different, the real inauguration of "later Beatles." I feel that the greatest record off all time should have been more clearly recognized as such in it's own time, as Sgt. Pepper was.
Which of course is part of the problem, I think. Sgt. Pepper was so immediately hailed as a work of genius, the beginning of Albums as Artistic Works that people don't want to think that it really could be the best of all time. That reputation is stifling, somehow, but of what I don't know.
For my part, Sgt. Pepper was both the first Beatles record and first CD I ever got (and for Christmas, natch). So I am probably just as biased as anyone else, since Pepper has certain nostalgic underpinnings for me. But a part of me suspects that, though nostalgia may have some impact, my early acquaintance with the album may also have shielded me from the backlash, allowed me to be free to see it on its own merits, and not in terms of whether it really is the "Best" or not.
People talk about the weird production on the songs, but I don't really understand where that comes from. Most of the sonic experimentation seems pretty effective and often unnoticeable, like how they raised Paul's voice on When I'm Sixty Four. The standard arrangement of most of the songs on the album is still the rock music staples of guitars, bass (this is truly an excellent bass guitar album), drums and piano. Some songs include, say, harpsichord, or eastern instruments, or string backings, but all of that stuff started appearing much, much earlier—the strings as early as Help!, the eastern instruments and harpsichords or whatever are on Rubber Soul. And really, there isn't a single song on Sgt. Pepper that is as sonically experimental as Tomorrow Never Knows. The only really significant change on this one is that they brought in a full orchestra for a couple of songs, but I don't really see how that can be that much of a knock on the album, given that the main orchestral song is A Day in the Life, which no one has anything bad to say about.
I think what really sets Sgt. Pepper apart is not the production—although it is quite complex, and many of the recording and arrangement techniques that popped as gimmicks on the earlier records (like the sitar) are now merely parts in a larger canvas—but the incredible depth of the songs. Earlier albums, even Revolver had a surplus of songs that just amount to "silly love songs." Though to Revolver this is too a much lesser extent, there are still songs like, Here, There, and Everywhere, Got To Get you Into My Life, or I Want To Tell You.
Sgt. Pepper, on the hand, while it often touches upon love themes, gives most of it's songs over more esoteric considerations. Probably the two songs closest to being straight love songs are When I'm Sixty Four and Lovely Rita. But When I'm Sixty Four is as much about aging and mortality and the fear of loneliness as anything, and Lovely Rita is almost an anti-love song: you can see edges of darker impulses creeping into the lyrics. On top of that, there is a certain level of craft, of actual poetry in the lyrics, like John and Paul's songwriting had advanced several levels between albums. Can anyone name a couplet as evocative as "What do you see when you turn out the light?/ I can't tell you but I know it's mine"? on Revolver? Or how about "Newspaper taxis appear on the shore, waiting to take you away"? Probably the least lyrically complex song on the album is Being for the Benefit of Mister Kite, which a piece of found art (all the lyrics are adapted from an old poster John bought) who's ambiguity and mood are like a kind of musical Rorschach Test. This is a very, very sharply focused set of songs, and they all work flawlessly together.
When I listen to Revolver, I feel like I am listening to the work of excellent, excellent pop songwriters, better songwriters than have ever worked on Tin Pan Alley or for Motown. When I listen to Sgt. Pepper, I feel like I am listening to songs with just as high a level of songcraft, but with the literary heft that, say, a Dylan brings to his work, and with the musical arrangements to match that complexity.