HONEYWOOD—Market-goers today are doing their best to be patient with local hermit-sage, Father Frumpleburger, as he shares his visions of hellfire and death with no guarantee they will come in a timely fashion.
“I don’t usually trust someone whose name I can’t say ten times, fast”, said Oren Greystoke, the town historian, “but Father Frumpleburger is without peer in accurate predictions. And I tell you, his latest predictions can’t come true quickly enough. Everything today costs more money and gives less, is bad for your health, and ultimately supports some useless lump in the capital. An end to it would be a welcome relief.”
“I mean, can we just get on with it, then?” added Randal of Oxleigh, the half-elven proprietor of a stall just around the corner from Frumpleburger’s usual perch. “That’s three prophecies this week, and I tell you we’re all happy to just be done with, you know, this”, he added, gesturing vaguely at everything.
“He’s always right, thank the gods”, said Elethea Penrose, a human sage who wrote her thesis on Frumpleburger’s long history of prognostication. “I can’t tell you how great a relief it is that we won’t have to put up with it all anymore. ‘Hells take this all’, I say. Just spare me another day of waiting for it. I can’t bear what’s become of the world.”
At press time, the flames of Avernus had not advanced in an all-consuming rage, much to the disappointment of the residents of Honeywood.
Feature Image: “Mad Prophet” by Wayne Reynolds © Wizards of the Coast
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