A tender tale from Porridge Marten, the Chronicler of the Game of Cronies
Her Dirtrocki plainsmen were riding around in circles, shouting in their strange Dirtrocki Seasick accents, and raising a lot of dust and loose pebbles into the stifling air as the Queen of Galeeria spotted the Darnean banner waving above a small group of riders crossing the border of Farth province.
The bleached-blond Galsleazy spoke to the leader of the group. “I am Dimheiress Stormybirth, Queen of senile Galleeria, the bloody Tarfeatheren ancestor of Argon and Meager, and … other titles, I seemed to have forgotten.”
Scratching his chest, the captain of the guard curtly replied, “Don’t matter. I’m Pock. Yah got duh ransom? We got yah man.”
“Jhocko, bring the chest of crowns.” One of Dimmy’s snap dragons was riding behind her in a special harness on her pony and sent a smoke ring in the direction of the Darnean, who coughed at the vile cloud.
Ser Joyridah Mormot, her “hero” and the heir of Bareback Island in Westeroids hadn’t been enjoying his latest ride. He bounced precariously in his saddle as the captain cut his bonds.
He was free.