You stand in a clearing nestled close to the mountains and surrounded by
thick brush and tangle. Scattered around the clearing in the shade of the
mountain are several stone houses with carefully-thatched roofs. They
are a fair size, though most consist of only one room, but they look snug
and dry. Most are lit brightly as their occupants go about their daily
routines, but some are dark and look like they might have been abandoned.
Cassandra walks along the path with a grim expression. You would like she was marching to her funeral with the tension in the air.
Brena is visible around the corner of the house, hanging laundry. There is a clothespin between her teeth.
Lanisen slows and draws back as they near the house, glancing at Cassandra. He gives her a small, encouraging nod.
Continue reading loose ends
Carmichael Village Square
You stand in the center of a quaint little country village, nestled in the foothills of the Western Mountains. There are a few shops surrounding the square, including Isfar’s blacksmith shop to the east, which is ringing with the sound of iron-on-iron. To the southwest is a small tavern, which smells of good home-cooked food. There is a traveller’s shelter to the northwest with a sign over the door that reads “Carmichael Lodge”. There is also a shop to the northeast, and two others, to the southeast and to the west, respectively. In the midst of the square stands a a stone well.
The main road heads south toward the settlement, a collection of humble, neatly-kept homes to the southwest of the main town.
Lanisen passes through the square in the early morning, dusty from tending the horses, and heads toward the well to wash up.
Loc plods, mostly awake, down the path into the Square. He rubs his eyes, moving toward the tavern at a snail’s pace.
Continue reading breaking eggs
You are in Fischer’s Tavern. A tall lanky man is standing behind the bar with a towel in one hand and a grin on his face. In front of him there is a nice hardwood bar about four feet high. Quite a few glasses and bottles stand on it waiting for a order. The barkeep motions towards a stool, “Name’s Fischer. Have a seat, what can I get ya to drink?”
Cassandra is sitting at a table, tapping her foot. She looks a bit impatient as she chews her lip.
Lanisen pauses at the door to scrape the mud from his boots, then continues in. He doesn’t seem to be in any hurry, and crosses to the counter to speak with Fischer without noticing his sister.
Cassandra sees her point of interest. She jumps up, making a beeline for him. “Lanisen!”
Lanisen turns at the sound of his name. “Hey!” he says, lighting up. “How’re you?”
Continue reading family dinner