making amends


Fischer’s Tavern
Carmichael
Western Archenland


Lanisen is at a table near a window, close to the back of the room where he can sit with his back to the wall and keep an eye on both the road and the other tavern patrons. He’s about halfway through a bowl of soup and an ale.

Eston walks into the tavern and makes his way towards the bar, buying himself some ale, he looks exhausted and stressed.

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a shift in perspective


Andale
Eastern Archenland


You stand in the heart of Andale where most of the folk who support Anvard live.  Young children play here on nice days, skipping rope, or shooting marbles, and older ones can be seen reading scrolls. Adults hurry through on their way from home to where their business takes them. A well with a stone wall sits on the western edge of the road.

The road here widens and splits to run toward the shops to the east, North Andale to the north and the Crossroad to the south. Short paths lead to the two settlements here; Het Noorden to the northwest, and Zuiden to the southeast.


Lanisen stands by the well, drinking in huge gulps from the bucket. He pauses and splashes water on his face and neck, then wipes his mouth with his sleeve and sets the bucket back down.

Armel comes cautiosly out from his home, on crutches. He shrinks back as he sees a stranger but works up enough courage to approach.

Lanisen appears to be completely at his ease. He plops down in the shade of the well and glances up as Armel approaches. He nods politely, no hint of recognition, and looks away as if bored.
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more blood


Cave Entrance
Western Archenland


You stand on a narrow ledge overlooking the pool below. A cool breeze blows off the spray of the waterfall, though it also makes the ledge quite slippery and dangerous. A narrow trail, littered with dirt and pebbles, goes behind the waterfall. The trail leads to a dark hole and looks to have been well travelled once upon a time.


Jana sits nearish the ledge, repairing clothes. She wears long sleeves despite the heat.

Lanisen climbs up the rope and slings his satchel up before hoisting himself over the edge. “Ugh,” he groans melodramatically, looking at his palms. “Are we moving on soon? ‘Cause I don’t think my hands will survive climbing that rope too many more times.”

Jana pulls a salve-sort-of thing of of her pack and tosses it at him. To him. A little of both, really. “Quit whining. Better hide-out than most.”

Lanisen lunges for the bottle and fumbles it. “Better’n a tree,” he concedes, picking up the bottle and unscrewing the cap. “Bleah! What is this stuff?” He sniffs suspiciously at the goop.

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