Beware los aves. Beware el cirujano. Beware la baraja. Beware those bound and those free.
One – Current
“Ha! The City of Splendor? Not half-likely. Where is their culture, hmm? Buried under generations of marauders and thieves, and scrapped like so much slag when new barbarians come with white capes and bright armor to build the city anew. What is their army if not mercenaries that have settled for a common flag, for ease of payment? Where is their coin? Here, and there, in cloaks ripe to disappear or change their color. Give me the caravans of Amn! Give me the Promenade! Give me true splendor, where the thieves have no shadows in which to hide!
- Florian Rocksleigh, at a public address on the Promenade, on the Waterdhavian rivalry with Athkatla
“My daddy will feed you your own tongue.”
- Alauneth Orrane, to Florian Rocksleigh, later that night.