Sometimes, it takes a complete change of scenery to make you realize how stuck in your ways you are. As a sage once said, In the winds, a rigid branch breaks; a pliant one bends yet keeps its shape. Keeping my shape, my principles, has never been an issue. But in Tensor’s Flying Market, I nearly broke.
Waking up in the darkness was disconcerting. Eyes open or closed, at first it didn’t matter. At first, it was hard to tell if there was any difference at all. It took a little time, then gradually, the edges began to appear. The texture of cold stone, warm stone, dank corners and humid halls opened into an expanse of darkness, thin violet light glinting from the foxed surface of a giant mirror. This had been the way into the dungeon realm; now the reflections betrayed no door nor even whomever stood before it, only the shifting forms of the guards. Continue reading Escape from Bazaar Dungeon