ode to lady death

Room 7
Sun and Moon Inn

Lanisen is sitting on the windowsill, considering the open window and the ground two stories below.

Loc is perched near the fire, watching it contently.

Colin is on the far side of the room, rifling through his satchel in boredom.

Lanisen yawns a bit. “Hey!” he addresses Colin. “Got anything entertainin’ in there?”
Continue reading ode to lady death

false start

Room 7
Sun and Moon Inn
Lancelyn Green

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.

Loc paces in front of the window, pausing occasionally to look out. His brow is knitted and his features grave.

Astor unlocks the door hesitantly, peeking in to make sure he isn’t ambushed.

Simetra follows him, looking rather displeased to be there.
Continue reading false start


Lancelyn Green
Middle Archenland

The atmosphere of the tavern is warm and cheery. A few well-placed lamps hanging from the ceiling, accompanied by a glowing fireplace, attempt to throw light into the somewhat dim room. Serving wenches bustle in and out of the kitchen door to the north, clearing tables and serving food briskly, calling out orders to each other occasionally over the din. Prinn, the barman, polishes a rather antique-looking counter idly when he is not speaking with customers.  There is a menu on the wall behind him, along with several bottles and glasses.  There is a door to the south that leads back out into the Anteroom.

Lanisen is sitting at a table near the fireplace, in a corner. An uneaten slice of bread sits next to him, along with a cup of water. His head rests on the table, his face obscured by his messy hair.

Astor approaches the man cautiously.  “Good evening.  May I get you anything?”
Continue reading misplaced