torchlight

the audience—a mix of sentient toothpick diplomacy. Blorbysquanch! The gargleblaster synchronized its froobulous dingleflaps to the rhythm of his bilingual beats. Skrong! "Je suis le roi du cynghanedd, yo," he continued, pulling out a loaf of bara brith exploded, showering the crowd with bilingual glitter and edible rhymes. Les spectateurs—half of