You know what? Today is one of those days when I feel like updating my blog, but I haven't anything really important to say. I just can't think of anything really relevant, but that doesn't curb my enthusiasm.
Ergo, I'm going to start typing a story. I dunno what it'll be about.
"HEEE-YAAAH! Bastard dog-sons!" cried Abrago, and threw his would-be assassin's body over the railing into the common room of the inn. "Have at you!"
With arms outstretched he leapt from the second-level railing, caught hold of the wagon-wheel chandelier, and threw a leg up around its rim. Below him, Karkanio and his ruffians scrambled to move a table under him, to better reach him and pluck him down.
"Fools, idiots, imbeciles!" the Zingaran cried from atop the chandelier, and rose up to stand on it, gripping the rope. "Back-births!" Holding tight to the rope, he drew from his sash a dagger, turned it in his fist, and cut the rope.
He rode the wagon-wheel down.
It fell, crashed upon the table, and crowned no less than three of Karkario's thugs. "Ha-HAH!" crowed Abrago, and dropped to stand
Crap. Out of time.