Frickin' Runt. I sends 'im out to trim the Ivy n 'e clips n dices, 'e puts 'is shears down n runs off dragging all the trimmed vine-age all wheedle-ed up in 'is boots! Spreads it everywhere! No wonder me freakin stoop is a legend. Skewerin knights n such on its sharp bits. It's the women. That's what the trouble is, I say. Gots the scent around n pricks come sniffin e'ry time. Well. Fixed them, didn't I?
- The Old Man
In a small corner of Sanctuary are worlds and times that exist, out of sync or in, all being tiny glimpses of a greater tapestry. One such place, the land of the Fae, has a castle, of sorts, that is totally surrounded by a brambled wood. So we begin, in the Worlds of Sanctuary, with the Faelan Stories. And what better, when being introduced to the weird and wonderful, than starting with something slightly familiar. Here we have the sometimes Sleeping Beauty. Ps: It's a story so oldest posts 1st.
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