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    Latest Journal Entries
    Guns in Greyhawk
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    NPC Sefa
    The Silver Wolf-The Honor Of The Crown: Burn Out
    CruelSummerLord writes "When the flame died away, there was only a mass of charred bones where nearly a score of living beings once stood. The sickly scent of burning flesh filled the air."
    The Silver Wolf-The Honor Of The Crown: Hiding In Plain Sight
    CruelSummerLord writes "“I honed my craft in the Free City of Greyhawk, remember?” Amyalla said with a confident smirk. “Picking locks is Greyhawk’s national pastime.”"
    The Silver Wolf-The Honor Of The Crown: Gnomes Fell Down And Lost Their Crown
    CruelSummerLord writes "“We’ll leave in the morning,” Airk said to his friends once he’d recounted his conversation with Gilduros and Arthur. “Arthur and the rest of the Council will take care of the refugees and muster the rest of Flinthold’s army. They won’t be able to win on their own, not without the Crown. Flinthold’s depending on us, and its fate is in our hands.”"
    The Silver Wolf-The Honor Of The Crown: Mass Firing
    CruelSummerLord writes "“You would be queen, and I would be king,” Wilhelm said, banging his hammer on his shield. “Why should our peoples shed further blood when we might battle for the throne ourselves? The winner becomes the new ruler, and the loser becomes carrion. What’s your name, woman?”"
    David Leonard's Greyhawk Musings

    Fingers of Light

     

    Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
    And sorry I could not travel both
    And be one traveler, long I stood
    And looked down one as far as I could
    To where it bent in the undergrowth;

    Then took the other, as just as fair,
    And having perhaps the better claim,
    Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
    Though as for that the passing there
    Had worn them really about the same,

    And both that morning equally lay
    In leaves no step had trodden black.
    Oh, I kept the first for another day!
    Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
    I doubted if I should ever come back.

    I shall be telling this with a sigh
    Somewhere ages and ages hence:
    Two roads diverged in a wood, and I?
    I took the one less traveled by,
    And that has made all the difference.



    Robert Frost

    By Robert Frost
    Published August 1915, in Atlantic Monthly
    and in Mountain Interval, in 1916


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