From all my travels, the strongest poisons that I found are those which haunt the mind. Fear, despair, guilt… All demons to stay away from. When the bards and troubadours sing their songs, they talk about the noble deeds of the heroes as if they were great memories to be retold. As if there is anything romantic from the squelching cry a Bogling does when a dagger meets its guts or the horrific smell of an Architect that has been burnt to a crisp by a Pyromancer. We did it because there was no other alternative for Telara, not because it was always pretty.

I do get it, the sing-along has to earn it’s silver and nobody wants to talk certain topics over soup, but it still bitters my drink to hear their fabricated tales, so at some point I found myself going less and less to the tavern, until I went no more. The food wasn’t terrific either to begin with.

I guess I’m the one growing bitter over the years.