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Mr. Nope laughs sardonically, "I had hoped the Artist would appreciate the sacred Hattori Lucci recipe."

"Well Writer, I have not heard of this Lance in a very long time, let me check my archives. There is an Inn several steps from here, lettuce all get our rest and we shall convene and depart in three days. Yes... Lettuce."

Mr. Nope lifted his eyes to the questions of Mr. Blackiron and the Writer. "Aah, yes... You are all here for one of two reasons... Either this group is in trouble or an artifact from my old colleague led you here?" A youthful smile overtakes the Curator, he quietly and swiftly raises from...

Good morning, please let me know if there are any questions or if the links do not work. Thank you. IDENTITY: Qanapei Kenpachi Meaning, “Acquiring or creating without words to fight“ or Kenpachi Qanapei Meaning, “Warrior of acquiring or creating without words” The amazing name...

For some reason I was not getting my alerts, where did the favorite colors thing come from? Did I miss that somewhere, if so, I can easily tie that in to my character and the story.

"As I have said, I am a Curator..." The owner replied. Instantly, the Curator clasps his pawish hands, extends what appears to be index fingers and draws them apart in a symmetrical fashion. The mystical clouds of incense and spices return as a small dining table manifests in the center of the...

The masked stranger pauses, an unusual silence grabs everyone's attention. The owner removes his mempo and unravels his shemagah... The beastly owner speaks,"I was certainly expecting something, evidently someone in this room has it..." The owner raises his hand as his cloak sways...

While sipping his warm milk and grumbling to himself, the masked owner grins and veers swiftly in Genevieve's eyesight responding gently, "I am merely a Curator of things..."

The masked owner peers strongly at the others in the room, "Aah Genevieve, from the House of Moulin, nice to see you visiting again, you would be surprised who remembers you.."

Suddenly taps echo in the shop, distinct taps in constant paces growing louder, yet none of the foreign visitors can determine where the taps originate from nor what is seemingly approaching. Mist and steam resembling spices that none can articulate cloud the atmosphere where the foreigners...