So there I was, going through Jackson's trash. Like one does. I'd bribed his dog with stale chicken nuggets, so I knew he wouldn't rat me out, plus I sent a couple of halflings to distract Matt by cavorting in his front yard. We all know that he can't resist that...
Anyway, he really should secure his trash better, who knows who will sneak in and swipe his pixels.
Here's a discarded draft of some bit of waterfront real estate - a gated community, if you like. While it may be interpreted as a yacht club for gnomes by some, this author identified it as an old customs post along a coastal boundary. The government legislating the trade and passage has since dissolved, but the post is still occupied by a rogue's gallery of residents.
So meet the locals, and roll a d20 to see what's happening in the neighborhood...
So meet the locals, and roll a d20 to see what's happening in the neighborhood...
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