I smack my lips, elixir rolling in my belly like molten gold. I ditch the empty bottle. Stretch my hungry muscles, pop my neck, crack! I feel … odd, as if my skin don’t fit proper. That shiny pink hellbrew is playing merry bugfuck with me, my friends, and I won’t stand for it.

The Chamæleon…eftir sum dubitatioun come to Striueling.

the burning sun

It handles two scheduled trains daily, which include loaded wagons of coal off-loaded from coastal vessels.