For as long as I can remember I always wanted to be a jester. To me that was better than being Lord of the realm. To be a jester was to own the world.
I always knew that words would do more than violence to help this world get out of its seemingly-eternal rut. A joke here, some commentary there, and maybe a couple fewer heads get caved in. While that might work on a small scale, if you want whole populations to live more joyous lives, you have to be brave enough to go out there and do something about it. Words can only get us so far. I tried everything I knew. I obsessed over a carefully-crafted analogy, a turn of phrase, a choice of font.
You could say I finally found a Lucida thought. In these Times, New Roaming heroes will remake the world in their image. If you want to make an Impact, people have to work together—nobody does it alone. No subterranean demon nor Arial angel will decide for us. It’s our Script to write. Your scribblings on Papyrus might ease tensions in a tavern for a night, or even produce a grand play that’s performed for a Century in some Gothic cathedral. Your myth might be inscribed on the Copperplating of a mighty vessel, built to traverse the Wingding path of an infinite river.
Nailing my point Tahoma, I’ll leave you with this: What good is a Courier without a destination? A Trebuchet without a wall to crush? A Comic, Sans audience? None, that’s what. Tip your waitresses, and support your local adventurer. They might just send some sorry bastard to Hel