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Message: <blockquote data-quote="GruTheWanderer" data-source="post: 518166" data-attributes="member: 3119">OOC Thread: <a href="http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=33128" target="_blank">http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=33128</a>The streets are busy.  All sorts of people from different walks of life bustle about on their own business.  As Ptolus is a fairly cosmopolitan city, its streets boast all races and even the occasional surprise - a centaur, some lizardfolk (usually keeping a low profile), or creatures even more exotic.  Most people move about on foot.  A few ride on horseback or in carriages, but nary a day passes when a bystander doesn't see a knight mounted atop a hippogriff, a wizard with a pseudodragon perched on her shoulder, a cleric accompanied by a living statue made of clay, or something equally strange or frightening.Still, when the sounds of screams and commotion greet your ears, it clearly alarms everyone around you.  Rising over a roofstop, a gout of smoke billows up.  Immediately, nearby voices begin yelling, "Fire!"  But then the shouts of alarm cut off as locals scatter in wide-eyed horro.  Moments later a screaming half-orc tears into view, engulfed in flame.  Somehow, the flames do not actually seem to be burning him.  However, when he grabs hold of a burly swordswoman near him in what looks like desperation, the flames do scorch her - badly.Many of the names and much of the flavor text from the following story is taken from The Banewarrens by Monte Cook, Malhavoc Press, 2002.</blockquote>

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