ZYLITH.
“I say my friend,” I slung my thin arms around Fredurd’s long neck while consequently made him stoop a bit in the process and said with a wide unrestrained smile, “Ashes to Ashes, Dust to dust, when life’s in a ditch, booze is a must.”
We currently stood in front of a big fancy inn with the name ‘Immortal Gnome Brewery’ carved beautifully on a posh plank board hung on top of its entrance.
It seemed like a pretty well-to-do inn with lots of customers streaming in and out of the place. I smiled a bit wider as I stared at the lively atmosphere of the street filled with the voices of folk’s merrymaking and people who walked as if the ground was the deck of a storm-tossed boat. Each foot came to the sidewalk as if the collision of shoe and concrete wasn't entirely anticipated and the
