day 1: the next generation


Selale Basin
Lantern Waste
Northwestern Narnia


Here is a wide open space carved in the rock, roughly circular and no more than twenty yards in diameter. The cliffs loom high on every side, providing shelter from wind and weather, but a great opening very far up lets in sunlight and sky. A thin jet of water, perhaps a daughter-stream of the river that pours into Caldron Pool, cascades down the western cliff face and feeds into a deep pool the color and clarity of a well-cut emerald. The ground, except for a ring of vegetation surrounding the pool, is dry and sandy. A single ancient larch tree grows tall near the north wall.

All around, the cliff face is etched and pocked with half-open tunnels and dark holes, entrances to small caves hollowed out years ago by the long work of water on stone. Some are fitted with wooden doors and appear inhabited, but many still yawn empty. Up above, ledges and crevices in the rock provide nesting spaces for eagles and hawks. In the east wall, through a wide crevice like a wound in the stone, the forests of Lantern Waste are just visible.


Megren sits near the fire when Lanisen awakes. She is braiding a handful of long needles three at a time and then tossing them into the flames to watch them crinkle.

Lanisen begins stirring after about an hour. He stretches and tugs the blanket away from his face, blinking in the light, but doesn’t get up right away, seeming inclined to be lazy. He watches Megren’s needle-braiding with sleepy interest.

Megren lifts her eyes a few times when he stirs, not catching it immediately when it is the real wakeful one. When she does notice his eyes are open she lifts her chin and says cheerily, “Good morning.”

Continue reading day 1: the next generation

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on wayward goats


Outside the Twin Oaks Inn
Lantern Waste
Northwestern Narnia


Lanisen is sitting on the bench outside the inn, bundled up with scarf and coat against the autumn chill, reading a book in the sunshine.

Myrd is bundled up against the cold as well, in a loud and rather threadbare scarf. He is also wearing a scowl.

Lanisen turns the page, glancing toward movement as he does so. He pauses, going still, then lowers his head and lifts his book a little, partially obscuring his features, and does nothing to draw attention to himself.

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won’t be taken in


Room 7
Sun and Moon Inn


Lanisen pokes absently at the embers in the fireplace, more out of boredom than because the room is actually cold.

Loc is curled up on the floor, covered by the blanket he’s using.

Lanisen lifts a smallish log out of the wire basket next to the hearth and tosses it into the fireplace, resulting in a small shower of sparks. One catches him on the hand and he jerks it back with a hiss of pain. “Blast it!”
Continue reading won’t be taken in

nobody’s good graces


Across the River
Middle Archenland


The spray rising up from the waters of the tributary obscures the far bank until one is actually standing upon its uneven ground. Great slabs of stone are scattered pell-mell along the rise leading to a vast, natural chamber enclosed by walls of rock. Jagged stalactites dangle in eerie formations from the far distant ceiling, and what scant illumination there is reflects up off the waters and casts shadows on the walls.

To cross back over the river here looks to be dangerous, to put it mildly. The skeletal wrecks of several small, wooden boats tossed on the shore serve as a grim warning. Up ahead, the path divides, both forks leading further downward.


Jana sits repairing a skirt, one leg stuck out straight forward and the other curled under her.

Lanisen stands in the entrance to the storeroom, hanging back. He watches Jana sew for a moment, apprehensive and guilty. He hesitates, then steps out into the main chamber, trying to look nonchalant and unconcerned.
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at fault


Hostel
Sun and Moon Inn
Middle Archenland


You stand in a spacious, dimly-lit room. It is quite plain, furnished almost solely with cots, and plenty of them at that. There are several people sleeping here, but it is rather dark to try discerning precisely who. Seems to be a comfortable enough place to sleep, by the steady breathing and occasional snores coming from the people resting on the cots.

There is a door to the north leading into the Anteroom.


Myrd stalks back into the hostel. He looks, in a word, volatile. He leans over Lanisen’s bedside, coldly observing the boy.

Continue reading at fault

fish out of water


Hostel
Lancelyn Green
Middle Archenland


You stand in a spacious, dimly-lit room. It is quite plain, furnished almost solely with cots, and plenty of them at that. There are several people sleeping here, but it is rather dark to try discerning precisely who. Seems to be a comfortable enough place to sleep, by the steady breathing and occasional snores coming from the people resting on the cots.

There is a door to the north leading into the Anteroom.


Simetra looks into the hostel to see if the ill man is awake.

Lanisen is half-sitting up, staring around the hostel. He blinks at the woman in the doorway, then touches the glasses on his nose, completely, helplessly lost. “Um…”
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small mercies


Earthen Chamber
Middle  Archenland


At the end of a narrow corridor is a tiny room, formed entirely of earth. If not for the tangled network of roots holding the sides of the cavity together, it would likely have collapsed in on itself long ago. Adding to the sense of claustrophobia, standing upright here is nearly impossible. The gutted-out ends of candle stubs, along with the rotting strips of what may once have been blankets, testify that this shelter was at some point inhabited. Beneath you, the earth has been scraped out in a futile effort to make it seem less cramped. Even the air in this niche is stale, as if it has not been stirred for some time.


Lanisen is not visible from outside, unless someone actually goes to the trouble of looking into his prison. If someone did, they would see him curled up on the floor of the passageway, not asleep. And they would probably also notice how badly the chamber is beginning to smell.

Jana tosses a waterskin in at him.
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interred


Across the River
Middle Archenland


The spray rising up from the waters of the tributary obscures the far bank until one is actually standing upon its uneven ground. Great slabs of stone are scattered pell-mell along the rise leading to a vast, natural chamber enclosed by walls of rock. Jagged stalactites dangle in eerie formations from the far distant ceiling, and what scant illumination there is reflects up off the waters and casts shadows on the walls.

To cross back over the river here looks to be dangerous, to put it mildly. The skeletal wrecks of several small, wooden boats tossed on the shore serve as a grim warning. Up ahead, the path divides, both forks leading further downward.


Myrd is throwing stones into the river, for no apparent reason. It’s obvious by looking at him that his mood this morning is particularly foul. He’s radiating clear danger signals.

Lanisen crosses the river in a particularly unstable-looking boat, looking like it was patched together with chunks of other crashed vessels. By the time he reaches the hide-out shore, it is past his ankles in water. He wastes no time in hopping out and dragging the unfortunate craft to shore to dry, eyeing it regretfully.
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second encounter


In the Archenland Forest
Middle Archenland


A mountain forest surrounds you on every side.  Gazing over the trees to the north and south, you see the snowcaps rising, though you can still continue a bit further before the foothills impede your progress.  The wide valley you stand in runs east and west between them, a gently rolling, hilly place, covered mostly with grass and the rare flower.


Lanisen is very obviously not hunting at the moment, instead scuffing through the vegetation in search of berries, fresney, edible roots, fruit, what-have-you. He kneels by a rather pathetic-looking mulberry shrub and begins picking. Most of the berries don’t make it into his bag.

Colin moves down through the branches of the tree above, oblivious to the presence of ‘Cal’ down below. The branches creak and let loose leaves and bark. A pear drops down right on Cal’s head, then Colin appears above and grabs the lowest branch to swing down. His body drops and he dangles right in front of Cal, blinking in surprise as he forgets to let go of the branch.
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domesticity


Across the River
Middle Archenland


The spray rising up from the waters of the tributary obscures the far bank until one is actually standing upon its uneven ground. Great slabs of stone are scattered pell-mell along the rise leading to a vast, natural chamber enclosed by walls of rock. Jagged stalactites dangle in eerie formations from the far distant ceiling, and what scant illumination there is reflects up off the waters and casts shadows on the walls.

To cross back over the river here looks to be dangerous, to put it mildly. The skeletal wrecks of several small, wooden boats tossed on the shore serve as a grim warning. Up ahead, the path divides, both forks leading further downward.


Jana sits on a makeshift bench, eyeing a skirt critically, sewing things spread out beside her.

Lanisen scrambles up and over the uneven rocks farther upstream, attempting to entertain himself. He stands up as far as he is able on a particularly high slab of rock and reaches up to a stalactite, just managing to brush it with his fingertips. He sways, nearly loses his balance, and tries again, this time managing to break the thing off and catch it.
Continue reading domesticity