Dozus's Profile

'I fear, dear Marius, that either you or I have been led astray. The Legends of which you spoke claimed Showgull was a land of great Magick, perhaps even the very Wellspring of the first Magick, with a People whose blood runs with æthereal power. You know how serious I take my work, Marius: is this a jest to you? These are a barbarous People, who know little Writing and fewer Manners. They are hostile to the very Idea learned Magick. That anyone should call this a Nexus of magickal power is risible. No wonder so many Kingdoms have been eager to trade off this Place in their treaties.'

- the wizard Abelard Selanius, Esq., letter to his colleague Marius Dubesque

'Jones, when was the last time ye cleared yer hulls?'
'Mm, a few months back. Why?'
'Yer ship. She's comin' outta the water.'

'Bristlebane ale. Tall.'

Mathus looked up. He didn't recognize the man ordering, but he seemed the type: muscles beneath a layer of fat, a snarling expression with most of his teeth missing, fists like summer hams. 'You want it in a bottle?'

'From the tap.'

Mathus nodded. 'This way,' he said, stepping from behind the bar and into the back room, the 'customer' following.

A fresh-faced young man sitting at the bar looked around, confused. 'Bristlebane? Sounds adventurous.'

'You couldn't handle it, son,' an older man said from across the plank bar with a hint of derision. 'It'd right kick your ass.'