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Sacred Bands and elite squadrons aren't what the mercenaries' guild is about. Field them at your peril.
Janet Morris
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Janet Morris
Age: 78
Born: 1946
Born: May 25
Author
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Boston
Massachusetts
Janet Ellen Morris
Janet E. Morris
Fields
Peril
Aren
Elites
Band
Jealousy
Bands
Squadrons
Excellence
Mercenaries
Field
Guild
Sacred
Guilds
Discipline
Elite
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Something is going on everywhere, most of which no one understands.
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Some nights, valor and cold purpose aren't enough.
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Sometimes the cost of winning for all the right reasons is so great that spirits die and hearts grow cold.
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I can start the rain. Bring thunder. Bring lightning. Want to see?
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What doesn't bend must break, when dooms are apportioned and destiny takes the lead. As it will now, and as it must, until this struggle ends.
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I'm just a weapon of the god.
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Painful things are quickly forgotten.
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Deception is a tactic: use it. Do whatever it takes to win.
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To the death with honor, shoulder to shoulder, and no one gets closer to a Stepson than his partner.
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I see all sorts of things when I'm clearing my pipes.
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I must decide if you deserve to die.
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Tempus wanders eternally, bringing death to whomever loves him and being spurned by whomsoever he shall love.
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Arrows are cheap you're expensive.
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No ethos, pursued without thought or mercy, is ethical.
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If cities have souls, Sanctuary's was troubled long before Tempus got here, and will be troubled long after he and his are gone.
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It is hard to battle anger, for whatever it wants it pays from the soul.
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Keep your enemies at a distance, your partners close at hand.
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One man can make another's life so much better.
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Gods have bloody hands.
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There must be love, and understanding, to betray. Most men haven't the wit or the honor for betrayal: not to know it when they see it not the stomach to apprehend it as they do it. Most men, blind and dumb in their self-centeredness, don't betray: they merely disappoint.
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