Deep in the destitute woodland it was raining ever so lightly. The raindrops appeared to be bouncing off of the leaves and onto various surfaces of green shrubbery.
Roughly 10 miles across the wilderness (as the crow flies) a murder of crows congregated in a clearing outside a well known tavern ‘The Sad Spider’ They were heckling a lady inside.
Once upon a shoulder, a sizeable chip was carried from village to village-town to town on the shoulder of The Chameleon; a man, punishing the wicked, insolent and downright dimwitted and recycling the