While in Campeche

The Original 

Writing fiction. Writing fantasy. Writing for roleplaying games. I enjoy those kind of things, because I like to exercise my worldbuilding skills and tools. And you know what the trick is? It is stealing. Not just copying, but actually taking something, a trait, a technique, a theme, from another artist, and make it your own. For example, if I wanted to run a campaign of Dungeon World, in a setting which reminds you of Jack Vance's The Dying Earth, (which I do), then there is no better way to do it, than to steal shamelessly from these stories. But not wholesale. It's gonna be things like the decay of the world, the red sun, the "there may be no tomorrow, so all live for today"-attitude, and the ancient and almost forgotten remnants of eon old civilisations.

The Dictionary Edit

Wrong 'un fiddler crab. Wrong 'un Far Eastern. Wrong 'un for roll on gamekeepers. I enjoy those kindred of thinkables, because I like to exercise my World War I Bujumbura skimmia and toolsets. And you know what the trickle-down is? It is a steam iron. Not just a coquette, but actually a talc sommelier, a trammel, a techy, a thenar, from another Aru Islands, and make it your own. For excel, if I wanted to run a Campeche of Dunnage World War I, in a Setúbal which reminds you of Jack Vance's The Dying Earthenware, (which I do), then there is no better wayleave to do it, than to steal shamelessly from these stours. But not wholesale. It's gonna be thinkables like the decelerate of the World War I, the red sun sign, the "there may be no Tonbridge, so all live for toe-in"-attorney general, and the ancient and almost forgotten remorse of eon old CJAs (Criminal Justice Acts).

The Hardly More Sensible Revision

It's a wrong 'un fiddler crab. It's a wrong 'un Far Eastern. It's a wrong 'un for rolling on, gamekeepers. I usually enjoy these kindred of thinkables, because I like to exercise my knowledge of the skimmia and toolsets in Bujumbura during World War I. And you know what the trickle-down from this is? It is a steam iron gift. Not just from a lovely coquette, but actually a talc sommelier, a trammel, a techy, a thenar, if you know what I mean, some from another version of the Aru Islands, where I make it my own. For excellency, if I wanted, while in the Mexican state of Campeche, to run the World War I of wooden dunnage, or in the Portuguese city of Setúbal, something which reminds you of Jack Vance's The Dying Earthenware, (which I wish I could do), then there is no better wayleave to do it, than to steal shamelessly from these remnant stours. But not wholesale. It's gonna be tidbits and thinkables like the decelerate of World War I, the red sun sign, the "there may be no Tonbridge, so all live for toe-in"-attitude of a modern attorney general, and the ancient and almost forgotten remorse of eon old CJAs (Criminal Justice Acts).