Lanisen is sitting up in his bunk, looking tired and bad-tempered and very very bored.
Colin enters the barracks, looking freshly washed and laundered with a clean tunic belted at the waist. Now that the dirt and blood have all vanished, there are various scrapes and bruises to be seen but nothing too serious. “Good mooorrrrrning, sunshine!” He crows, well aware of the fact that it is evening.
Continue reading menagerie
A wolf with thick black fur and tired blue eyes (Tempest) follows two soldiers closely as they help her wounded packmate into the area. A healer sees to the wound in his side and gives him a sleeping draft. She lays down beside him, still panting a little from the battle. She lays her head between her paws and huffs out a huge breath. Her fur is dirty and matted, sticky in spots.
Lanisen sleeps fitfully on one of the cots about halfway down the room, heavily bandaged around the leg and shoulder, and heavily drugged. He seems to be trying to wake up, low noises of pain escaping him.
Tempest lifts her head when one of the wounded sons of adam starts fussing. She drags herself to her paws once more and pads over to him, peering at him anxiously. She sniffs him carefully. Not smelling death, she places her cold nose in his hand, trying to help him.
Continue reading the sun comes out again
Colin clambers down the stairs from the attic, clearly having been up there searching for something. A grown Puck is close on his heels. “Lanisen!” He calls out again.
Lanisen kicks the door open and backs in, arms full of the butcher’s order for the hounds. “Door!” he yells toward the stairs.
Continue reading about-face
You stand in a small but comfortably furnished private room of the Inn. The bed is made neatly with a plain but pleasant quilt, and several blankets can be found in a small trunk at the foot of the bed, should the room grow cold. There is a lit fireplace in one wall. A window looks out westward, revealing a pleasant portrait of the road out in front of the inn. A nightstand sits beside the bed, and a washstand beneath the window. There is a vase of dried flowers beside the pitcher and bowl on the wash stand. A woven rug by the door completes the cozy effect of the room.
Lanisen sits silently against the wall next to the fireplace. His arms rest on his knees, and the uneaten bowl of stew – probably cold by now – is on the floor next to him. The sleep he took earlier hasn’t done him much good, if the dark shadows under his eyes are any indication.
Colin looks equally weary, and is rather grumpy from the sheer boredom of staying in the same room for hours.
Continue reading teach a man to steal