You May Have Heard Of Me.

On His First Hand He Wore Rings Of Stone, Iron, Amber, Wood And Bone. There Were Rings Unseen On His Second Hand, One Was Blood In A Flowing Band, One Was Air All Whisper Thin, And The Ring Of Ice Had A Flaw Within. Full Faintly Shone The Ring Of Flame, And The Final Ring Was Without Name.

I Decided To Dub The Room With The Good Chairs My Lutery. Or Perhaps My Performatory. I Would Need A While To Come Up With Something Suitably Pretentious.

The Key To Good Worldbuilding Is Leaving Out Most Of What You Create. You, As The Author, Had Damn Well Better Know The Where All That Dragon Food Comes From, But That Doesn't Mean That I, As A Reader, Want To Read A Five Thousand Word Essay About You Explaining It To Me. I Don't Need To See The Math, But I Can Tell By The Details You Provide Whether Or Not You've Thought These Things Through To Their Logical Conclusions.

Some Of My Arcanum Bunkmates Taught Me A Card Game Called Dogs-breath. I Returned The Favor By Giving An Impromptu Lesson In Psychology, Probability, And Manual Dexterity. I Won Almost Two Whole Talents Before They Stopped Inviting Me Back To Their Games.

In My Opinion If You Have A Secret Compartment In Your Lute Case And Don't Use It To Hide Things, There Is Something Terribly, Terribly Wrong With You.