Gorel's TalePrologue Once upon a time is how stories begin. I pen these words in a quiet glade in Moonglow, far from where it began. It is the story particularly of a man. But it is also the story of a city, and of a town within a city, a town special and isolated, where none venture willingly. Britain is the city, beautiful Britain, bejewelled in gold, mustard, terra cotta, strawberry and pistachio stucco warmth. The town ensconced within this gem of a city had no name. It was a tangled warren of twisted streets and decaying structures, fashoned of mud colored stucco slathered over crumbling brick, two and three story hovels shoehorned into small cramped courtyards. It was called, derisively "Poor Town". In this wretched place everyone lives cramped together and everyone knows each other's name.. It is a hot, tight place, noisy day and night, but where the ragpicker may also be a great scholar, and the drayman a Bard who can sing like an angel, or a lutist who can make your bones shiver. I tell this story because it should be told, because the world should know how uncontrolable circumstances, and ill fate can make or break a man.
Gorel
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