The Splintered Axe Tavern
Wintermoor is standing a corner conversing with several seated Narnians who have doubtless wandered over to speak with him as he polishes his blade. The blade looks rather old, though well-kept, and does not seem to have seen use in a while. There is a large tankard in front of him that seems about half drunk.
Lanisen steps in from outside, a little bit red-faced from the heat of the day. He still has his walking stick, but he seems to be getting around quite well. He glances toward the little group of Narnians, and past them at Wintermoor, but he hesitates and does not move to join them.
Wintermoor glances up from his sword towards the doorway as it open and closes, Lanisen entering. He does not seem terribly riveted upon the conversation, focused on his blade, but is politely conversing with them. He nods to Lanisen, seemingly welcoming him to join if he will.
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The Splintered Axe Tavern
The Great Woods
Lanisen is sitting at one of the big stuffed chairs by the window this evening, chatting animatedly with an elderly Badger. There’s two tankards of ale on the little table between the chairs, but Lanisen does not seem to have made it through much of his yet. The Badger finishes his, drops down to the floor, and after a round of good-nights admonishes the young man to stay off his hurt foot and also to be more careful, then trundles off toward the inn.
Wintermoor enters from the inn, having slept during the day. He nods and greets the badger as he passes, before moving into the tavern itself.
Lanisen picks up his tankard and looks down into it for a moment, then sets it aside again without drinking. He looks at the window, but the sun has long since set and it’s hard to see anything other than a firelit reflection of the inside of the tavern in the glass.
Continue reading starlight & starsong
In the Great Woods
You find yourself in the deep, vibrant forest that makes up the Great Woods of Narnia. All around you, trees and vines and bushes grow in great abundance, their leafy branches serving to block out a good deal of the sunlight that would trickle down from above. There are very few clear paths here upon which to walk, but at least you sense no real danger from the trees here. They seem to regard you with a detached curiosity, allowing you to pass by without impediment.
To the north, you can just make out the sparkling surface of the inlet of Glasswater through the dense foliage. The seawater adds a tang to the woodland scents that hang in the air here. To the south, the ground inclines sharply toward the mountains beyond, and a stone building sits nestled between two foothills. The sign above the door reads: The Splintered Axe Inn and Tavern.
Lanisen sits alone on the ground outside the inn in a puddle of sunshine that has broken through the trees, writing a letter. His left foot, extended in front of him, is bootless and wrapped up tightly in white cloth, as if it’s been hurt recently. A big black hound is flopped on his side next to him, asleep with his back pressing up against Lanisen’s leg.
Wintermoor makes his way into the clearing and towards the inn carrying with him the signs of travel.
Lanisen looks up at the sound of hooves, moving slightly in a way that suggests he’s about to get up before he changes his mind. He watches the path, keeping very still, and then breathes out in pleased relief and recognition when Wintermoor comes into view. The hound at his side raises his head.
Continue reading history & memory & grace
Peridot’s eyes follow his toward the tent and then go back to the Prince. She bows again. “Thank you, your highness. I want to do my part for their Majesties as well. They have been good to us beasts.”
Cor says, “I’m sure we — I’m sure we all want that.” He takes a breath. “Lord Peridan might be better to talk to.”
Peridan ducks out of the tent, rubbing his forehead for a moment before straightening his shoulders and walking toward the fire where the others are gathered.
Continue reading day 3: over and done
Lanisen is sitting at a fire a little after sunset, wrapped in a blanket. He has the same pale, bloodshot, anxious look as many in the party, and watches the path east into the trees without any particular focus.
Wintermoor draws close to the gathering Circle, pausing to take in those assembled there.
Lanisen resettles in his blanket and sniffs, chilled. He glances up automatically toward the Centaur, looking at his face to see if there’s any news, then looks down at the fire.
Continue reading day 2: borrowed shelter
Outside the Twin Oaks Inn
Megren stands outside the inn, dressed in sparring clothes. A group of Narnians is gathered around her, all chattering away, seemingly about the kings and queens, if the words that rise above the talk are anything to go by.
A faun with brown curly hair (Tumnus) comes walking in from the south, surrounded by a small group of Beasts.
A magpie with black-and-white plumage (Tooey) half hops, half flies in after the faun chirping something about treasure.
A centaur with dark serious eyes (Wintermoor) stands with the circle listening to the daughter of eve speak to those gathered. A faint covering of travel-dust covers him still.
Continue reading lost caches and wishes