Perhaps it is simply impossible to do something as simple as tune one's lute in the middle of the main thoroughfares of Ul'dah without something happening. After all, that sheer propensity for things to simply happen was the very aspect of the desert city that kept him visiting its taverns and streets, even such as the alley where he currently rested his heels, propped upon a barrel, his signature lute in hand.
So, perhaps it was indeed a spirit of the city that whipped a copy of one of the town's more provocative publications into the air, via a sudden dust devil, and across the strings of his instrument. What can one do in such time, but read it?
He tapped his foot against the barrel as he scanned over the contents, stopping upon what looked like another story of scandal from whomever it was that made such salacious use of the city's resources.
"Crofte... That sounds famili... Ah, yes, that's the name that floats in the Quicksand's air. One of the Sultana's bevy of mighty metal maids. Hell, does the Sultana only use women in her private operations forces, or are the men simply that well hidden? Bait, I think, bait."
He continued reading.
"Hm. Mhm. Hm."
He tapped idly on this instrument.
"Who writes these things? Frankly, I dare say whoever it is, sounds in need of a powerful, pulsing, pounding of particularly potent private parts more than any of the Sultansworn. Could be a public service to Her Grace."
So, perhaps it was indeed a spirit of the city that whipped a copy of one of the town's more provocative publications into the air, via a sudden dust devil, and across the strings of his instrument. What can one do in such time, but read it?
He tapped his foot against the barrel as he scanned over the contents, stopping upon what looked like another story of scandal from whomever it was that made such salacious use of the city's resources.
"Crofte... That sounds famili... Ah, yes, that's the name that floats in the Quicksand's air. One of the Sultana's bevy of mighty metal maids. Hell, does the Sultana only use women in her private operations forces, or are the men simply that well hidden? Bait, I think, bait."
He continued reading.
"Hm. Mhm. Hm."
He tapped idly on this instrument.
"Who writes these things? Frankly, I dare say whoever it is, sounds in need of a powerful, pulsing, pounding of particularly potent private parts more than any of the Sultansworn. Could be a public service to Her Grace."
"But in the laugh there was another voice. A clearer laugh, an ironic laugh. A laugh which laughs because it chooses not to weep."
![[Image: 3610850.jpg]](http://assets-cloud.enjin.com/users/1266293/pics/original/3610850.jpg)
