Sparkie
Dark Lord
Because this thread is meant primarily for in-character dialogue, the setting described here need not be taken literally. I just wrote what I felt to be an environment that's peaceful, relaxing, and conducive to good conversation. I hope you enjoy it, and I look forward to learning more about our characters.
It's been a long day of travel. Though the weather has been cooperative, the rough, muddy excuse for a road we've been on has left everyone weary. The onset of evening has just begun, and, be it through luck or Providence, we come at last to what may be the perfect site to camp.
The trail we're on runs through a forest glade, a large grassy meadow within the confines of the woods. To the right side of the road there's an area that looks like its seen many travelers over the years. There's a fire pit lined with stones, and four large logs surround the pit. Makeshift benches, probably. The area just beyond is flat, even, and clear of debris, an excellent place for bedrolls or tents. On the left side of the road, a rocky-bottomed shallow brook flows with cool, clear water. A few dead trees have fallen not far from the shore, and some of the wood looks well dried out.
No one says a word. We simply glance at one another, then simultaneously begin setting up for the night. Baldhart grabs an axe and heads over to the fallen trees to chop kindling. Ankari readies his bow and stalks silently into the woods, hoping to find a little game before dark. Cadell wanders over to some bushes by the treeline, intent on finding berries or perhaps edible leaves. Matthew and Rydh begin erecting tents, the clacking of the wooden mallet against stakes echoing around the glade. Everyone stays busy, racing the sun as it drops lower and lower in the sky.
By dusk camp is set. The fire crackles underneath a makeshift spit, a small wild hog turning slowly upon it. Hard bread, Cadell's "wild salad," and stale ale complete the meal. Ankari turns the spit as the rest of us sit in expectation with plates, forks, and knives or daggers in hand. He stiffens a bit as Rydh words Grace to the Gods, then he smiles as he carves and distributes the meat of his kill. Everyone begins to eat, and the moment arrives.
There is a moment, when hungry friends gather to eat, of complete silence. The meal begins, and the body's need for nourishment overtakes all others, including that of conversation. Fortunately such moments are fleeting, as is all time well spent with companions. Soon enough the sounds of crickets and leaves in the nighttime breeze seem to fade as a voice cuts into the quiet...
*****
It's been a long day of travel. Though the weather has been cooperative, the rough, muddy excuse for a road we've been on has left everyone weary. The onset of evening has just begun, and, be it through luck or Providence, we come at last to what may be the perfect site to camp.
The trail we're on runs through a forest glade, a large grassy meadow within the confines of the woods. To the right side of the road there's an area that looks like its seen many travelers over the years. There's a fire pit lined with stones, and four large logs surround the pit. Makeshift benches, probably. The area just beyond is flat, even, and clear of debris, an excellent place for bedrolls or tents. On the left side of the road, a rocky-bottomed shallow brook flows with cool, clear water. A few dead trees have fallen not far from the shore, and some of the wood looks well dried out.
No one says a word. We simply glance at one another, then simultaneously begin setting up for the night. Baldhart grabs an axe and heads over to the fallen trees to chop kindling. Ankari readies his bow and stalks silently into the woods, hoping to find a little game before dark. Cadell wanders over to some bushes by the treeline, intent on finding berries or perhaps edible leaves. Matthew and Rydh begin erecting tents, the clacking of the wooden mallet against stakes echoing around the glade. Everyone stays busy, racing the sun as it drops lower and lower in the sky.
By dusk camp is set. The fire crackles underneath a makeshift spit, a small wild hog turning slowly upon it. Hard bread, Cadell's "wild salad," and stale ale complete the meal. Ankari turns the spit as the rest of us sit in expectation with plates, forks, and knives or daggers in hand. He stiffens a bit as Rydh words Grace to the Gods, then he smiles as he carves and distributes the meat of his kill. Everyone begins to eat, and the moment arrives.
There is a moment, when hungry friends gather to eat, of complete silence. The meal begins, and the body's need for nourishment overtakes all others, including that of conversation. Fortunately such moments are fleeting, as is all time well spent with companions. Soon enough the sounds of crickets and leaves in the nighttime breeze seem to fade as a voice cuts into the quiet...
Shadow Lord
Mythic Scribe