I'm too busy crumpling up my manuscript pages and flinging them in disgust to write a proper post, so here's something else. It's an actual e-mail exchange between Husband and one of his good friends, both of whom I'm quite sure have played their share of Dungeons & Dragons at one point or another.
For fans of George R.R. Martin, I offer you this:
This is no jape. I saw your smallclothes, chased in gold and dagged with crimson velvet, upon a gelded destrier as he was eating a feast fit for the Merling King: river trout roasted in almond milk, stuffed with figs. He was on his way to the Street of Silk.
As usual you are playing the fool, and you are undoubtedly festooned in the motley common to that of a court jester. Will you not caper about like a softheaded numbwit for our amusement?
On the morrow I shall be dining on garlic-rubbed garron, spitted and roasted, with much grease popping in the fire. You, ser, shall be supping on a thin soup of carrot and onion, with nary a rasher of bacon to be found at the board.
I expect you'll be sotted in a Fleabottom brothel as usual, your manhood festering with pus and foul odors.
Wow, Lord R is quite the charmer! I wonder who his lucky lady is?