Here's a log from Thoe's perspective, showing Thalia's Day of Remembrance event!
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You walk through a curtained opening.
You walk out of a well-built stone shop through the heavy oak door.
You walk west.
You walk west.
[St Loomis, Beacon Row]
Even a passing examination readily reveals these ill-constructed tenements as homes for the poorer workers of the city, most of them destined for precarious employment at the docks or in other seasonal jobs. Winding amidst the leaky and crumbling structures with seemingly little purpose or plan, the streets and alleys are pitted with holes that pose a peril to any but the sturdiest cart wheel. Laundry that never quite seems able to shed its dingy grey flaps overhead, saluting the occasional pig or goat combing the muck in search of a morsel of garbage.
Clouds streak distantly across the face of the stars. Faint scorch marks can be seen hereabouts, barely noticeable.
Cardinal Exits: west, east, and southeast
You melt into the surroundings, successfully having found a hiding place.
You sneak west.
[St Loomis, Fountain Square]
Here at Fountain Square, bustling Market Street intersects with Post Street to the west, the two avenues' near identical width and substantial stone paving marking them out as equally important in the life and layout of the town. Conversely, the abruptly declining quality of the road that forges eastward suggests a certain marginality to the neighborhood in that direction, where clusters of dreary buildings slant together hopelessly. Presiding over both rich and poor from the center of St Loomis, the town hall sits in stone-clad dignity on the east side of the square.
A lit Mistwatch lantern stands sentinel on a tall pole.
Clouds streak distantly across the face of the stars.
Cardinal Exits: north, south, east, and west
Other: the town hall: bronze entry door (closed)
Pigeons flock around the base of a circular fountain at the middle of the intersection, where a large stone model of the St Loomis lighthouse presides over the area.
You sneak south.
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair also looks up breiefly at the heavens before flickering a small smile at a lean, ink-eyed man. "'Tis a lovely night, is it not? A true gift from Dionos, a pleasant dreaming for a somber eve." [in Ruvic with a hearty mezzo-soprano]
[St Loomis, Main Street, Outside the Seaglass Inn]
Faded scraps of withering creeper leaves flutter from the eaves of a two-story building on the western side of cobbled Main Street. The structure's creaking wooden sign is painted with a pale green shard over the etched symbols of a tankard and a bed, with a matching sigil marking a rustic wooden gate in the stone wall that adjoins the building on the north. A neat cedar bench set to one side of the doors allows a fine view of the street out of the way of traffic. Off to the north the intersection with Post Street is visible, where crowds gather around the central fountain with its miniature lighthouse beacon.
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here.
Clouds streak distantly across the face of the stars.
Cardinal Exits: south, north, and west: rustic wooden gate (open)
Other: the Seaglass Inn: set of double doors (open)
A small muddy puddle in the cobbled street offers up a mirror for the sky.
You fall in with a stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair.
A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair walks out of the Seaglass Inn through the set of double doors, with heavy footfalls.
A hunched, elder woman walks out of the Seaglass Inn through the set of double doors.
A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man walks out of the Seaglass Inn through the set of double doors.
A lean, ink-eyed man gives a similar smile back, "Yes, and less...cold for the moment." [in Ruvic with a muted countertenor]
A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man flashes a burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair a broad grin and murmurs, "Yes, you know me too well..." [in Ruvic with a light, airy tenor]
(Quietly): You have emoted: Thoe creeps along in the shadow of clouds, lurking behind a fall of withered vines alongside the Seaglass Inn while curiously observing the group forming behind a stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair.
A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man sketches a little bow at a stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair and a lean, ink-eyed man. "Good evening, Sister Thalia. Good evening, Ighlaf."
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair agrees, "Aye, a touch less so. Good news for those of us whose joints are starting to turn on us." She represses a chortle as she looks over to the inn, nodding to the newest arrivals.
"Two more." [in Ruvic with a calm and quiet bass-baritone] a burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair calls over to a stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair and a lean, ink-eyed man as he leads the duo out of the inn. He then takes a few further steps and falls in besides a stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair.
A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair falls in with a stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair.
A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is no longer following a stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair.
A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man falls in with a stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair.
A hunched, elder woman hobbles her way out of the inn following behind a short, reddish-gold-eyed young man and a burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair. "Sister Thalia," she greets a stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair familiarly. "It is nice to see you again." [in Ruvic with a sweet, shaky soprano]
A hunched, elder woman is no longer following a stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair.
A hunched, elder woman falls in with a stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair.
A lean, ink-eyed man eventually shifts their gaze from the sky to say, "Good evening." With an amused look to a stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair.
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair raises her eyebrows at a hunched, elder woman and exclaims, "Ah, goodwoman, a pleasant surprise! I still owe you a round-a-bout through the town. Good dreaming, but it's been a time in the countryside... didn't expect to be gone half so long, but it's been a flurry of weddings and babes and little hurts and ailings, and goodness!"
"I apologize for not introducing myself earlier," a burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair says to a stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair after he's moved to 'join' the group. "I am known as Yasin. Apprentice smith, by trade."
A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair then belatedly offers a, "Good evening," to a lean, ink-eyed man, alongside a smile.
A hunched, elder woman dips her head to a stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair wearing a warm smile. "It is quite alright, dear," she assures. "I have been rather busy. We will find time soon enough."
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair glances around as a handful of locals begin gathering as well, some with cautious looks for the foreigners, but most with small nods of respectful if not cordial acknowledgement, a courteous greeting for strangers on the street. She gives small serious smiles and nods to all of them, then looks back to a burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair.
A lean, ink-eyed man smiles back at a burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair, with their attention settling on a stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair after.
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair tells a burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair, "Yasin, 'tis a pleasure to meet you, and to make better acquaintance of all of you this night."
A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man says, "Weddings and babes sound like wonderfully joyous occasions to counter the less pleasant occurrences of the last few months. If one must be busy, tending to those seem like a good and productive path," $me states with a smile. He clasps his hands behind his back and nods politely to some of the locals as the group grows."
"Weddings and babes sound like wonderfully joyous occasions to counter the less pleasant occurrences of the last few months. If one must be busy, tending to those seem like a good and productive path," a short, reddish-gold-eyed young man states with a smile. He clasps his hands behind his back and nods politely to some of the locals as the group grows. (fixed).
With another glance around, a stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair says, "Now, are all of us ready? It's a bit of a walk, but we'll keep up a nice steady pace and get there safe and sound."
You shift closer to a lean, ink-eyed man.
It takes you a moment to move sneakily closer...
(Hidden) Sidling over quietly from the streetside shadows, you whisper to a lean, ink-eyed man, "How ya been, Gluff? Ain't seen ya." [in Ilexi with a childish soprano]
A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair dips his head to a stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair and says warmly, "Thank you, and I feel similarly." He looks around at the locals, sort of nodding at a few of them, but mostly stays near those he seems to be acquainted with.
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair's lips twitch upward in a smile to a short, reddish-gold-eyed young man, and she affirms, "They are indeed! It's good to see life going on, even in the middle of sorrows. Such is the way of the Dream, which the Dreamer has dreamed in wisdom."
A freckled guard of the town watch walks over from the north, patrolling.
A freckled guard of the town watch walks south, patrolling.
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair announces, "Right, then! If we're all put together, let's be off." She thumps her staff lightly on the ground, nods firmly, and sets off.
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair walks north. She is followed by a large group.
You are no longer moving in the shadows.
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair walks north. She is followed by a large group.
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair walks north. She is followed by a large group.
[St Loomis, North Main Street]
Between the outer gate and the imminent sprawl of the port town, the northernmost portion of Main Street passes near the top of the seaside hill upon which St Loomis is built. The lighthouse jutting from the coastal rocks towers far higher, and can be seen well from this tidy stretch of cobbled road that has not yet descended into the chaos and clutter clustered around the town's center. An oddly peaceful grove spreads out behind a stone wall to the west, a flagstone-paved avenue running along its south side.
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: south, north, and west
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair walks north. She is followed by a large group.
[St Loomis, Before the Gate]
The barred iron gateway to the north is usually flanked by a pair of guards, standing ready to admit or bar passage to all who seek entry to St. Loomis. Rising well above the heads of pedestrians, the stone wall that surrounds the landward side of town looms in stark solidity. Eastward a walkway runs for some distance in the shadow of the ramparts, but to the west the way is blocked by another, lower stone partition that marks the boundary of the local lord's manor.
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: south, east, and north: iron portcullis (open)
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair smiles at you.
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair walks away through the iron portcullis. She is followed by a large group.
[Locale of St Loomis, Inside the Gatehouse]
Although the towering stone ramparts create a somewhat claustrophobic semblance of shelter, this narrow space between the iron portcullis and the oak barbican doors is only barely protected from the elements and seems to hold a perennial dampness. In the wall to the east, however, a smaller door with a slit for a window occupies an arched aperture that must lead to the interior of the guardhouse.
Also here are a rosy-brown-haired guard and a slender, coal-haired guard. A muscular guard of the town watch is here. A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night outside the gatehouse.
Cardinal Exits: south: iron portcullis (open) and north: heavy oaken barbican (open)
Other: the interior of the guardhouse: small door (open)
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair walks away through the heavy oaken barbican. She is followed by a large group.
[Locale of St Loomis, Outside the Gate]
The stone wall that surrounds the port town of St Loomis stretches west and east at roughly the height of three tall men. Within its blocky face is a heavy set of doors that guards the outer side of the gatehouse. Grass and tangled weeds encroach upon the foot of the wall and along the edges of the wide road that leads out of town. Within a stone's throw from the ramparts the road is roughly paved in cobblestone as if it were presenting a welcome mat to travelers, but beyond that it quickly turns to rutted earth as it heads north across a wide clearing encircling the town.
A lit Mistwatch lantern stands sentinel on a tall pole.
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: south: heavy oaken barbican (open) and north
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair says to you, "You keep close to me, little fellow. I might need your protection on a long walk like this!" She chortles softly and gives you a quick hair-tousling.
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair walks north. She is followed by a large group.
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair walks north. She is followed by a large group.
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair walks north. She is followed by a large group.
[The Wayfare, Open Fields]
Close by the east side of the road and marking the point where it intersects with a slightly smaller lane, a single leaning gloam pine reaches out to make a needle-boughed awning for travelers to pass beneath. Grasses wave in the breeze where the land descends slightly to the sea cliffs eastward. Meandering in from tree-dotted farmland to the north, the wide dirt track heads south across an open plain.
A spacious paddock has been built in the eastern field.
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: south, west, and north
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair walks north. She is followed by a large group.
[The Wayfare, Open Fields]
Traveling past fallow farmland as it makes its way through the countryside, the road forms a dividing line between cultivated ground to the west and windswept meadow eastward. Beyond the fields rises a small fortified structure, looking a little out of place in the middle of peaceful farmland.
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: south and northwest
A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair blinks as he notices you, looking momentarily surprised. "Hello there, Thoe," [in Ilexi] he says as they walk forward as a group.
(Quietly): A lean, ink-eyed man gives a smile to you, murmuring, "A distracted time of late." [in Ilexi]
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair walks northwest. She is followed by a large group.
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair walks northeast. She is followed by a large group.
A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man follows along leisurely with his hands clasped behind his back. He keeps glancing subtly at the locals around him, mostly training his gaze on their hands and anything that's being carried.
[The Wayfare, Open Fields]
Strips of fallowed ground and young winter rye extend off to the west, the small shoots looking somewhat the worse for wear from exposure to the winds on the open headland. Navigating its way around small dips and rises in the ground, the road takes a bend to the southwest to avoid a marshy depression thick with low grass and sedges.
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: southwest and north
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair walks north. She is followed by a large group.
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair walks north. She is followed by a large group.
[The Wayfare, Forest's Edge]
Trees press in closely here, though just to the south only a scattering of pine and oak speckles the open landscape. An old drystone wall marks the limit of the woods on the west side of the road, the stacked slabs of rock listing and worn as if exhausted from long years of guarding against the encroachment of the forest. On the south side sprawls a fallow field, left to slumber beneath a thin blanket of barley straw with its work now done for the year.
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: north and south
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair walks north. She is followed by a large group.
You have emoted: Thoe is forced to hustle to keep up with a stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair's brisk pace, and offers the others a sheepish smile and a little giggle as he wipes knuckles across his nose. "I will!" he chirps in promise to a stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair, no longer bothering to try to accompany the group secretly.
[The Wayfare, Hunter's Forest]
Trees grow thickly around the road, casting dappled shadows on the rutted dirt. Gnarled oaks are mixed closely with pines and stunted yews, hardy species adapted to a life near the sea whose saline tang occasionally penetrates the rich aroma of loam, evergreen, and tannin. The forest's edge can be glimpsed a short distance to the south, while spreading densely around in every other direction. Also a bundle of firewood, a campfire, a gloam pinewood branch, a silver birchwood branch (x2), and a stack of 2 blue oakwood branchs are here.
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: south and north
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair directs another firm and knowing nod downward to you, telling you, "That's the spirit!"
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair walks north. She is followed by a large group.
A hunched, elder woman smiles warmly at the exchange between you and a stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair. "Hello, dear," [in Ilexi] she eventually greets you gently after the others.
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair walks northeast. She is followed by a large group.
[The Wayfare, Hunter's Forest, Pine Grove]
Shafts of silvery moonlight filter down through the gently swaying boughs of a dense clump of gloam pines. Growing up from the sandy soil, the trees are gnarled and slightly twisted yet rise high overhead, creating a harmonious world of shifting light and shadow through which the road gently meanders.
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: southwest and northwest
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair walks northwest. She is followed by a large group.
[The Wayfare, Hunter's Forest, Pine Grove]
The atmosphere is tinged with a soft purple gloom as the light from the sky is strained through a thick canopy of gloam pines. The sound of footsteps on the winding road is muffled by a heavy layer of fallen needles, and only a faint breath of air moves through the grove, carrying a rich depth of spicy evergreen.
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: southeast and north
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair walks north. She is followed by a large group.
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair walks northeast. She is followed by a large group.
[The Wayfare, Hunter's Forest, Pine Grove]
Looming noticeably higher than its fellows, one of the pines here looks to have paid for its lofty ambitions with a charred lightning scar that lances in a jagged line down its trunk. Though the storm that made it is long past, a wide unhealed gash through the bark remains, the oozing sap drawing a variety of insects and birds. Curling past this local landmark, the road continues southwest through the heart of the grove while the trees appear to thin out slightly to the north.
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: north and southwest
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair walks north. She is followed by a large group.
[The Wayfare, Hunter's Forest, Pine Grove]
Gloam pines thrust up through the stony soil in this part of the forest, forming a deep grove that encloses the road to the south in an evergreen embrace. Oaks begin to take over to the north as the Wayfare continues its unhurried trek through the woods.
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: south and north
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair walks north. She is followed by a large group.
The heavens hold a chilly light unmarked by a single cloud, framed by an intricate tracery of bare tree branches.
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair walks north. She is followed by a large group.
[The Wayfare, Hunter's Forest, Glade]
A break in the forest opens unexpectedly here, low meadow grasses stretching east and west between ragged lines of oaks. Large flat rocks emerge from the thin soil here and there, and a fire ring of smaller stones shows where travelers or woodsmen have found respite in this small wilderness. The road begins a short series of switchbacks to ascend a rocky ridgeline to the north, while moving southward in a more gentle descent from the glade.
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: northwest and south
Other: across a stony expanse
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair walks northwest. She is followed by a large group.
"There's plenty of us here, so no need to worry about being left behind," [in Ilexi] a short, reddish-gold-eyed young man utters, a kindly smile on his lips.
[The Wayfare, Hunter's Forest, Rocky Ridge]
The roads cuts a zigzagging track across the face of a rocky ridge, easing travel up the incline. A mix of blue oak and crag pines thrust their twisted forms out from the crumbling slope, while a single tiny seedling has even sprouted from a cracked boulder that crowds the track. Below to the south, the ridge drops down to a pleasant grassy glade.
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: southeast and northeast
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair walks northeast. She is followed by a large group.
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair walks northeast. She is followed by a large group.
[The Wayfare, Hunter's Wood, Rocky Ridge]
The Wayfare continues its steady climb, partly shaded by the scraggly branches of small trees clinging tightly to the slope. Although the ridge itself is fairly steep, the road has been constructed in such a way as to keep the grade to a minimum. Even so, the danger of a cart too swiftly taking a sharp turn like the one here is real, and a low drystone wall stacked up along the outer curve of the bend provides a very negligible barricade.
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: southwest and northwest
A hunched, elder woman sips from a mug with a curved handle comfortably as they continue along. She falls near the back of the group, eyes tracking the starts. (Consumption)
You have emoted: Thoe beams proudly up at a stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair, and waves to a hunched, elder woman. "How ya been, forren granny?" he asks, despite being a little out of breath from hurrying along. "I won't get left behind!" he promises a short, reddish-gold-eyed young man.
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair treks her way effortlessly up the hillside, darkness and bare feet and all, expertly plying her staff for balance on the rolling pebbles of the slope.
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair walks northwest. She is followed by a large group.
A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man walks over from along a thin trail.
"That's right." A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair says in affirmation past a short, reddish-gold-eyed young man. "A nice, big group." Periodically, his eyes flit through the crowd, as if searching it.
[The Wayfare, Hunter's Wood, Rocky Ridge]
A dense mass of stunted trees crowds the gently sloping ridgetop, pines and oaks alike contorted into picturesque shapes by the wind that seems always to be blowing here. Following a natural curve along the hillside from the slightly higher ground to the northwest, the road cuts a narrower track southward where it begins a descending series of switchbacks. Northeast a thin trail leads to an opening in the low canopy of trees.
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand. A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man is here.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: northwest and southeast
Other: a thin trail
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair stops and blinks at a ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man.
A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man stops and blinks at a stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair. He adjusts ragged-burnt pantaloons and clears his throat.
A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair *also* stops and blinks at the appearance of a ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man. "...Paldeo?" [in Ruvic] He asks, putting voice to that blink.
A stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair greets a ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man, "Hail and g'd even, son! I'd not thought to find anyone else out traveling the Wayfare so late."
A lean, ink-eyed man draws their gaze from the stars to look at a ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man.
A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man stops mainly because the rest of the group stops, but he also blinks upon seeing a ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man. While he doesn't speak up, he does sketch a little bow in that direction.
"I've been good," a hunched, elder woman tells you, trailing off slightly at the arrival of a ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man. Her gaze lingers for a moment and then lands back on you. "I hope you have stayed out of trouble."
A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man opens his mouth with a familiar I'm-about-to-complain-loudly expression -- but then a stocky friar with tonsured grey-blonde hair's greeting wipes it away. "I'm camping," he retorts gruffly. "What's all this?" [in Ruvic with a rocky and raspy bass]
Not appearing much fazed by a ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man and burnt and battered appearance or by his gruffness, Sister Thalia says, "We're off to give our prayers and hopes to the remembering tree, and bid a somber farewell to this somberest of all days."
A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair allows Sister Thalia to do the talking, and just watches the conversation with a curious uptick of his brow at the word 'camping' from a ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man.
You have emoted: Thoe bobs his head and beams at a hunched, elder woman. "Very good," he replies. "Good enough to deserve shamurma, I'd say, even! And safe! Been safe in Lucy's home..." That round-eyed babbling dwindles off as he notices the strange man at the trailhead.
Sister Thalia adds, "If you've your own prayers, or repentance or regrets to surrender, then you're more than welcome to join us."
After a moment of sour-faced silence, a ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man gives a stiff nod and tips a jaunty sharkskin captain's hat as if to let Sister Thalia by.
A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man falls in with Sister Thalia.
Sister Thalia's mouth twitches up in a small and serious, yet welcoming smile. "Good," she says, quietly but firmly, and with another small thump of her staff continues on her way.
Sister Thalia walks northwest. She is followed by a large group.
Sister Thalia walks west. She is followed by a large group.
[The Wayfare, Hunter's Wood, Rocky Ridge]
Meandering gently through the pines and oaks, the road skirts a higher outcropping of stone that begins to thrust up to the north. With the view obscured by this latest obstacle on one side and by trees and brush on the other, the area has a slightly claustrophobic feel relieved only by the sight of the sky through the forest canopy.
Sister Thalia is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand. A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man is here.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: east and west
Sister Thalia walks west. She is followed by a large group.
[The Wayfare, Hunter's Wood, Rocky Ridge]
The hard-beaten track of the road continues to skirt the base of a high crag that rises on its north side. The huge boulders are a somewhat forbidding yet picturesque sight, and little hollows amidst their rough and mossy bulk must make pleasant shelter for the wild denizens of this remote feeling place.
Sister Thalia is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand. A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man is here.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: east and west
A bent old crag pine makes a quiet creaking noise where it rubs against the stone outcrop.
Sister Thalia walks west. She is followed by a large group.
Sister Thalia walks northwest. She is followed by a large group.
[The Wayfare, Hunter's Wood, Rocky Ridge]
Gnarled old pines cling tenaciously amidst the boulders of a towering knoll that rises to the northeast and casts the road at its base in a pleasantly cool gloom. Beginning a subtle descent to the north, the Wayfare continues on through a thinning wood of blue oak.
Sister Thalia is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand. A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man is here.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: southeast and north
Sister Thalia walks north. She is followed by a large group.
A hunched, elder woman makes a face at you, scrunching up her eyebrows with an expression mixed with amusement and mild confusion. "We will get you some then," she promises, whether or not she actually understood or not.
[The Wayfare, Hunter's Wood, Rocky Ridge]
A scree of rock fragments tumbles gracelessly across the road here, loosened from the craggy knoll to the east by the relentless action of wind and weather. Most of the stone has been cleared away, tossed into haphazard heaps to either side of the track, but the pulverized shards of smaller pieces clearly outline the passage of cart wheels.
Sister Thalia is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand. A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man is here.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: north and south
Sister Thalia walks north. She is followed by a large group.
(Hidden) A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair looks mildly surprised at a ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man's following of the masses, but he shrugs and continues onward.
[The Wayfare, Hunter's Wood, Rocky Ridge]
The growth of scrubby blue oaks grows sparser as the road curls around a craggy outcropping and begins a long descent to the northeast. Freed from the thick canopy of trees visible further up the ridge to the south, meadow grasses sprout in bunches around a profusion of flat cobble-like stones strewn across the uneven ground.
Sister Thalia is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand. A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man is here.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: northeast and south
Sister Thalia walks northeast. She is followed by a large group.
Sister Thalia walks northeast. She is followed by a large group.
[The Wayfare, Hunter's Wood, Rocky Ridge]
The road passes across the broad slope of a stony meadow as it makes its way down from the heights of the ridge. Blue and Ruveran oaks mix together in small stands here and there, the trees drawing in closer as one heads north. Southward a high promontory of craggy stone looms against the sky, its forbidding outlines resembling some forgotten and crumbling tower.
Sister Thalia is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand. A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man is here.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: north and southwest
Sister Thalia walks north. She is followed by a large group.
[The Wayfare, Hunter's Wood, Rocky Ridge]
Picking its way gradually down the side of a long ridge rising immediately southward, the road is swiftly swallowed up by forest at the foot. Tall Ruveran oaks and slender gloam pines crowd the track as if attempting to prevent its departure. A forbidding looking crag rises up from the heights of the ridge, but the slope traversed by the road is a moderate one, ornamented with a scattering of much smaller trees.
Sister Thalia is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand. A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man is here.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: south, north, and down a rocky western cart-path
Sister Thalia walks north. She is followed by a large group.
Sister Thalia walks north. She is followed by a large group.
[The Wayfare, Hunter's Wood]
The brush that tangles the forest floor parts between a pair of young oaks to the east, allowing a narrow game trail to emerge onto the road. A scattering of tracks then makes its way northwest, as if the local wildlife had adopted the Wayfare as part of their own navigation network.
Sister Thalia is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand. A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man is here.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: northwest and south
Sister Thalia walks northwest. She is followed by a large group.
Sister Thalia walks north. She is followed by a large group.
You have emoted: Thoe issues a small cheer at a hunched, elder woman's words, skipping along for a few paces before continuing to hurry, small legs working quickly.
[The Wayfare, Hunter's Wood]
Long tendrils of vine festoon the smaller trees and underbrush here, forming an exuberant tangle in which the fluttering movement of small birds can often be glimpsed. The prints of passing animals create crisscrossing ribbons in the earth of the road, intertwining with the ruts of cart wheels. Heading north, the forest begins to open up slightly, the trees becoming larger but standing further apart.
Sister Thalia is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand. A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man is here.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: south and north
Sister Thalia walks north. She is followed by a large group.
[The Wayfare, Hunter's Wood]
Large oak trees span the road with their spreading limbs, creating a graceful canopy for travelers to pass beneath. Although brush and vines become quite thick upon the forest floor to the south, here only a scattering of shrubs remain to obscure the view through the tree trunks. Wending northwest, the track continues through the woodland towards a glimpse of open field.
Sister Thalia is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand. A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man is here.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: south and northwest
Sister Thalia walks northwest. She is followed by a large group.
[The Wayfare, Edge of Hunter's Wood]
The gnarled yet statuesque forms of Ruveran oaks surround the road going south, as well-spaced as columns in a cathedral. Here at the edge of the forest the ground is clear and pleasantly parklike, with very little brush or dead wood in sight. Beyond the edge of the forest just to the north, fields begin to spread out in a broad patchwork across the land.
Sister Thalia is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand. A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man is here.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: southeast and north
(Quietly): A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair actually gives a hunched, elder woman a warm, if brief, smile after that exchange with you. He says nothing, carrying onward.
Sister Thalia is perhaps making some effort to temper her pace for the oldest and youngest among her group, but she seems to have such an abundance of natural energy that it's difficult for her to slow down too much for very long at a stretch.
Sister Thalia walks north. She is followed by a large group.
Sister Thalia walks north. She is followed by a large group.
[The Wayfare, Open Farmland]
Fields of barley and oats are interspersed with open meadow and small patches of trees, the individual pieces of the landscape coming together to create a pleasingly varied whole. The road makes its way generally north and south at an unhurried pace, its gentle curves following the lay of the land rather than cutting straight across it.
Sister Thalia is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand. A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man is here.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: south and northeast
Sister Thalia walks northeast. She is followed by a large group.
Sister Thalia walks north. She is followed by a large group.
[The Wayfare, Open Farmland]
Open pastureland rolls along to the east, the rippling grasses looking peaceful and free beneath the wide open expanse of the sky. A tidy hedgerow borders the road on its west side, sheltering the crop fields behind it and exuding a faintly spicy scent from its dense golden-green leaves.
Sister Thalia is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand. A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man is here.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: south and north
Sister Thalia walks north. She is followed by a large group.
[The Wayfare, Open Farmland, Cloverstone Wells]
A small cluster of trees sits just to the east of the road, their branches stretched invitingly over a diminutive outcrop of rock. Although the stones are damp as if suggesting the presence of a spring, no running water is in evidence. Nevertheless the shady depths of the oaks and the lush growth of grass and clover clearly reveal the benefit of some hidden source of sustenance.
Sister Thalia is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand. A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man is here.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: south and north
Sister Thalia walks north. She is followed by a large group.
[The Wayfare, Open Farmland]
The countryside rolls softly out beneath the arc of the sky, long meadow grasses waving and the heads of growing crops bobbing gently. Some distance off to the east, the crumbling remains of a stone cottage sit atop a small knoll, looking lonely in the solitary expanse of grass and wind.
Sister Thalia is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand. A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man is here.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: south and northwest
Sister Thalia walks northwest. She is followed by a large group.
Sister Thalia walks north. She is followed by a large group.
[The Wayfare, Stonefield Rise]
The Wayfare descends gradually from the south into a broad valley between low rolling hills. Although the hillsides themselves are broken by rough ledges and wayward chunks of crumbling rock, the lowlands are lush with grass and crops and clearly signify a fertile and well-tended land.
Sister Thalia is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand. A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man is here.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: south and northeast
Sister Thalia walks northeast. She is followed by a large group.
(You notice someone moving stealthily!)
With a hissing snarl, a gaunt Ensorian wildcat tries to get away!
(You notice someone moving stealthily!)
Panting, a gaunt Ensorian wildcat comes to a stop.
Sister Thalia walks northeast. She is followed by a large group.
[The Wayfare, Stonefield Rise, Waymarker]
The road takes a sudden bend to the southwest here in preparation for its gradual climb out of the dell. Fruitful and carefully tended farmland blankets the land to the north, mixed with equally lush meadows ideal for raising stock. A stone marker has been embedded upright in the ground at the elbow in the road, looking similar to numerous other slabs of stone that jut out from the hillside to the south.
A poised middle-aged woman is here.(stealthy!) Sister Thalia is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand. A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man is here.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: southwest and west
A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man grumbles as he makes his way along at the end of the group, behind even the youngest and oldest of them. He glances behind himself and around the hills and fields often, as if watching for something in the dark.
Sister Thalia walks west. She is followed by a large group.
[The Wayfare, Sleithdale]
The Wayfare curls around the bottom of a long slope that rises gradually to the south, seeking the most gentle ascent. Here at the edge of the valley dense shrubbery crowds between outcroppings of stone, but this rough landscape is swiftly smoothed out into a variegated blanket of farmland to the north. A small burrow lies just a short ways off the side of the road, tucked between a chunk of rock and the protective tangle of the bushes.
Sister Thalia is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand. A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man is here.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: east and northwest
Sister Thalia walks northwest. She is followed by a large group.
[The Wayfare, Sleithdale]
Cropland rolls out in all directions, covering the gentle swales of the dell. Here and there a peasant's croft can be glimpsed in the middle of the spreading fields, set well back from the road at the end of narrow rutted lanes. To the southwest the road approaches the long rise leading out of the valley, while northward it continues in a very mild descent.
Sister Thalia is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand. A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man is here.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: southeast and north
A hunched, elder woman departs.
A hunched, elder woman arrives.
The crystalline skies are laced with a biting chill, creating a cold clear canopy above the shivering grass.
A hunched, elder woman falls in with Sister Thalia.
Sister Thalia walks north. She is followed by a large group.
[The Wayfare, Sleithdale]
The Wayfare continues to bend gently through the countryside, skirting the edges of the fields. Partially shading the road on its west side is a small crabapple orchard, the trees' stocky trunks standing at a companionable distance from one another.
Sister Thalia is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: south and northeast
Crickets chirp quietly beneath the spreading trees.
Sister Thalia walks northeast. She is followed by a large group.
[The Wayfare, Sleithdale]
A slightly untidy checkerboard of crops, fallow fields, and verdant meadow lines the road as it eases towards the lightly wooded bottom of the dell. Low hedgerows edge some of the fields, zigzagging about according to some obscure design difficult for a mere passerby to discern.
Sister Thalia is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: north and southwest
Sister Thalia walks north. She is followed by a large group.
Sister Thalia walks north. She is followed by a large group.
[The Wayfare, Sleithdale]
Arriving at the lowest part of the dell, the Wayfare approaches a slender line of trees that winds through the narrow bottomland. Tall elms and chestnuts that have found a sheltered place in which to spread their graceful branches, the trees cling closely to a stream at their heart as if it were a cherished friend.
Sister Thalia is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: south and north (water)
Sister Thalia goes into the water.
Sister Thalia wades north. She is followed by a large group.
[The Wayfare, River Sleith, Fenny's Ford]
Dappled sunlight falls through the deep green canopy of chestnuts and elms, dancing playfully across the gentle currents of the narrow River Sleith. The Wayfare cuts straight through the water, crossing on a wide stretch of rocky bottom visible only where the road meets the river's edge. Though placid here, just east of the ford the water cascades off the stony ledge to create a long low waterfall.
Sister Thalia is treading water here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is treading water here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is treading water here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is treading water here. A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man is treading water here. A hunched, elder woman is treading water here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand.
There is moderately shallow fresh water here. A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: south and north
The low noise of rushing water fills the air, as a last quiet chorus of evening birdsong floats down from the treetops.
(Quietly): A lean, ink-eyed man glances backwards for several moments before continuing their steps.
Sister Thalia wades north.
Sister Thalia emerges from the water. She is followed by a large group.
[The Wayfare, Sleithdale]
Trees line the wandering course of a narrow river that follows the lowest point of the dell from west to east. Traversing the water via a ford to the south, the road comes up a low swale to the north before emerging back into open fields. A few mouldering old boards, half buried in the dirt to one side of the road, perhaps show where one vehicle did not fare so well in crossing.
Sister Thalia is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: south (water) and north
Sister Thalia walks north. She is followed by a large group.
[The Wayfare, Sleithdale]
Well-tended cropland lines the Wayfare on both sides as it navigates a subtle upward grade to the northeast. Strips of rye crisscross with narrow fields of oats, intermixed with patches of fallow ground or plots of vegetables. Just southward a line of trees comes into view, forming an elegant backdrop to the fields.
Sister Thalia is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: south and northwest
A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man shivers slightly and wraps his cloak tighter around himself after splashing across the stream.
(Hidden) A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair gives a curious look to a ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man, then seems to focus his attention there while the group of them trudge and tromp forward.
With an energetic wave of her staff, Sister Thalia says, "Just a little further!"
A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair seems to be keeping an eye on a ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man.
Sister Thalia walks northwest. She is followed by a large group.
Sister Thalia walks north. She is followed by a large group.
[The Wayfare, Sleithdale]
A line of elm trees has been planted on the eastern side of the road, helping to tame the frequent breezes coming in from the coast and shading the way on warm days. The song of a nightingale floats down from the softly swaying branches, filling the evening air with a plaintive music.
Sister Thalia is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: south and northeast
Sister Thalia walks northeast. She is followed by a large group.
Sister Thalia walks north. She is followed by a large group.
A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man squints over at a burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair. "Whaddya lookin' at, boy?" he lifts his voice to ask roughly. "How handsome I am?"
[The Wayfare, Sleithdale]
Abjuring straight lines, the Wayfare continues to weave across the open countryside like a thread stitching together patchwork squares of cropland. The straw-spangled ground of harvested barley fields mingles with the drabber brown of fallow and the hay meadows' tarnished gold, all beneath a vast spread of mild autumn sky.
Sister Thalia is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: south and east
Sister Thalia walks east. She is followed by a large group.
[The Wayfare, Sleithdale]
The low valley of the River Sleith extends as far as the eye can see to the west and south, cradled lightly between low grassy hills. The road follows the flattest lay of the land as it heads west, but to the north it approaches the nearer edge of the dale and the elevated headlands beyond. Oat fields and tidy plots of root crops tumble out across the ground every which way, arranged according to some obscure system of tenure.
Sister Thalia is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: west and north
Sister Thalia walks north. She is followed by a large group.
"You maintain a good pace, Sister Thalia." A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair remarks, an amused expression on his face as he follows along. That amusement departs his expression immediately at a ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man's comments.
[The Wayfare, Sleithdale]
The road picks its way along the side of a gentle swale lying northeast, where strips of grain crops alternate with fields left fallow for the year. A woodlot of mixed trees sits in a small depression in the hillside just below the road, providing wood to meet the needs of the local peasants.
Sister Thalia is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: northeast and south
A hunched, elder woman can't help but snort at a ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man's remark. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, whether or not that can be seen through the dark.
A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair gives a sheepishly-spoken, "Uh, nothing," to a ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man, averting his eyes and looking at the scenery instead. He adds on, "Just... checking that the back of the group was with us!"
A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair begins to watch the direction of None.
A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man arches a brow as his reddish-gold eyes flick between a burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair and a ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man.
Sister Thalia chortles softly at a burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair. "Aye, son, I guess that I do. This is what a mendicant friar does -- wander hither and yon, as far as her feet may take her, aiding and sustaining others and relying on the providence of Dionos to aid and sustain her in turn."
Sister Thalia walks northeast. She is followed by a large group.
[The Wayfare, Sleithdale]
Rich farmland gradually transitions to stonier pasture as the road nears the top of the long line of rolling hills that forms the northern limit of a pleasant dell. Jumbled strips of cultivation create a confusing but interesting prospect, while a narrow ribbon of forest weaves through the valley at its lowest point, the occasional sparkle of water glinting through the trees.
Sister Thalia is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: north and southwest
A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man grunts dourly and raises one hand to tug a jaunty sharkskin captain's hat a little further forward, but even in the dark it does little to shadow his deforming scars.
Sister Thalia walks north. She is followed by a large group.
[The Wayfare, Open Headland]
A few strips of crops sit wedged in between sheltering patches of small trees and shrubbery, but this ridgeline is too exposed and stony to offer much opportunity for cultivation. Instead sheep and the occasional herd of goats may be found roaming the unenclosed grassland, leaving their hoofprints in the dirt of the road to mark their passing. Marking a divide in the open landscape, the land dips down into a valley to the south while descending more gradually northeast.
Sister Thalia is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: northeast and south
Sister Thalia walks northeast. She is followed by a large group.
Sister Thalia walks northeast. She is followed by a large group.
[The Wayfare, Open Headland, Offering Tree]
The road is forced to deviate from its already meandering course by a large boulder that sits in the middle of the gentle slope. Nearby, a twisted crag pine grows up through a pile of smaller rocks that look to have weathered off their parent. The tree's contorted branches furnish only a thin and ragged shade but are alive with color, having been festooned with ribbon-tied twigs and tiny bells hung from strips of faded fabric.
Sister Thalia is here, holding a long ash staff in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is here. A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man is here. A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man is here. A hunched, elder woman is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand and holding a mug with a curved handle in her left hand.
A vast sweep of stars glitter against the cold black backdrop of the night.
Cardinal Exits: southwest and north
The chiming of bells and a quiet clack of sticks blowing in the breeze creates a naturalistic melody in the open air.
Eyes ahead, you exclaim, "Ooh! The tree! I done heard of it, ain't never seen it afore now though!"
You have emoted: Thoe points at a ribbon-adorned crag pine, hopping excitedly forward.
You go to stand under a ribbon-adorned crag pine, scampering directly beneath to peer up into the twisted branches.
The thumping of her staff slows as Sister Thalia nears a ribbon-adorned crag pine, and finally quiets entirely as she comes to a stop nearby. She bows her head towards it, just a touch, as if offering it its due measure of respect if not indeed reverence.
A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair gives a distracted, but polite, dip of his head to Sister Thalia and says warmly, "Seems a good thing to do, and a good way to be." He then quiets and focuses on a ribbon-adorned crag pine.
A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man smiles widely at your obvious excitement. "It's very impressive, isn't it? Imagine what it's like seeing it for the first time without every having heard about it, and not expecting to come upon it."
A lean, ink-eyed man begins to watch the general direction of southwestward.
Sister Thalia glances over at you, another serious yet kindly smile touching her lips. "Aye, and isn't a lovely sight?" She nods over to a short, reddish-gold-eyed young man, acknowleding your words too.
You have emoted: Thoe turns about and beams at a short, reddish-gold-eyed young man with several energetic nods. "They say it's magic!" he claims excitedly. "Somethin' like St Hollyberry's handprint! Ain't that true, Sister Thalia?" His round-eyed gaze sweeps to Sister Thalia and he snorts into the back of his hand incongruously, smearing trails of snot across a raggedy burlap tunic.
A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man follows Sister Thalia's example as he also bows his head quietly towards a ribbon-adorned crag pine for a moment. He places over hand over a mahogany suede mizuda, gently splaying his fingers over the suede. Once the moment passes, he looks up to nod his head in agreement with Sister Thalia. "It was immediately clear that this place is a special one."
A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair gives you a grin, then looks to Sister Thalia for the impending answer.
Sister Thalia's eyes tinkle even as she tells you seriously, "Aye, that's true, young Thoe. This very tree was discovered by St. Loomis and St. Hollyberry as just a tiny little sapling, clinging to life in the months following the onset of the Great Dark."
A lean, ink-eyed man settles their gaze partially on a ribbon-adorned crag pine as they listen, a smile twitching their lips as they glance to you.
(At the general area): A lean, ink-eyed man shifts closer to a burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair.
"That old?" a burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair asks no one in particular, as he looks to a ribbon-adorned crag pine with a little widening of his eyes.
A lean, ink-eyed man whispers something, involving a burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair.
Raising her voice for the benefit of all those who have followed her here, Sister Thalia goes on, "Once, long long ago before the darkness came, this land was covered by a great forest, each tree more ancient than a great-granddad's great-great grandad."
(Hidden) A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair gives a curious glance to a lean, ink-eyed man, and whispers back, "...-- --- ----... 'f-----'?" A little emphasis on a single word, there. "-nd wh-r- on th- tr-il?"
With a soft sigh and lowered eyes, Sister Thalia says, "Aye, it had stood here for time out of mind, as part of the vast Greywood, for all the woods here were one in those days. But then came the days of darkness, and choking ash, and one by one all the trees were smothered and starved of light, and perished."
A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man pivots slowly to scan the surrounding landscape, as if trying to imagine what Sister Thalia's describing.
Sister Thalia raises her head again, eyes shining, and gestures reverently towards a ribbon-adorned crag pine. "Save for this one."
A lean, ink-eyed man whispers something, involving a burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair.
A hunched, elder woman tilts her head curiously as she listens, focused mostly on Sister Thalia. As a burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair and a lean, ink-eyed man continue to whisper, though, she shoots them a *look*.
You have emoted: Thoe gazes on a ribbon-adorned crag pine with awe as Sister Thalia speaks, eyes shining with amazement and wonder.
(Hidden) A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair gives a concerned frown to a lean, ink-eyed man. "T---k f----w--g -s? -- g---g --s-w----?"
Sister Thalia says, "'Twas, as I said, but the tiniest little pine, naught but a stripling -- for a tree, it was like to your own age, I do reckon." She nods to you.
A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man folds his arms, glumly sketching a few paces around the outskirts of the group to squint suspiciously towards a ribbon-adorned crag pine.
A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair looks slightly distracted while listening to Sister Thalia. He catches that *look* from a hunched, elder woman out the corner of his eyes, then winces.
A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man inhales deeply, taking in the scent of pine needles, and slowly his gaze up the length of a ribbon-adorned crag pine, craning his head to see the top.
Sister Thalia says, "Of course, the two good saints were filled with joy to discover this little sign of life, struggling to survive even in a land that seemed given up to darkness and despair. And they took it as a sign of Dionos' love, and that he dreamed something better ahead for them, if they only had faith, and care for one another."
(At a ribbon-adorned crag pine): You have emoted: Thoe turns his gaze to Sister Thalia with a little grin, then looks back at a ribbon-adorned crag pine and murmurs, "Someday I'll be like you, o great tree!" He reaches out to place a small, mucus-crusted palm reverently against the knotted trunk.
A lean, ink-eyed man whispers something, involving a burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair.
(At the general area): A lean, ink-eyed man attempts to settle their attention back on Sister Thalia, although it drifts away after a while as they rub at their forehead.
You have emoted: After mumbling an aside to himself, Thoe looks back to Sister Thalia, listening with wide-eyed attention and a hopeful smile -- and one hand still on a ribbon-adorned crag pine.
Sister Thalia says with a smile, "And so they decided that this tree too was part of the care they must show the world. They dusted the ash off its little needles and cleared the fallen limbs of older, dying trees away from it, and St. Loomis shone his holy light upon the pine. And it lived, and grew, and showed in its perseverance that all the people of this land could still do the same."
A hunched, elder woman rolls her eyes at a lean, ink-eyed man, pinching her lips tightly together. She lets it go with an exhale through her nose and attempts a more pleasant demeanor for continuing to listen to Sister Thalia.
A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair whispers something, involving a lean, ink-eyed man.
A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is no longer following a lean, ink-eyed man.
A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair falls in with a lean, ink-eyed man.
(At the general area): A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair is being all sorts of rude while listening to Sister Thalia talk about the history of the tree, giving occasional glances as he's listening. But he seems preoccupied, and begins to slowly back away from the crowd.
Sister Thalia concludes with great resolution, "And so we still do, through all the times of darkness and struggle! We hold firm and care for one another, and the good God sees us through. And every year, on the anniversary of that darkest of days, we come to offer our prayers and hopes, and regrets and repentance, to this little tree that bears some of the holiness of St. Loomis himself."
(At the general area): A lean, ink-eyed man murmurs, "Apologies, feeling unwell." [in Ruvic] as they shift away.
A lean, ink-eyed man starts towards the southwestward direction. (Stand - near the southwestward direction -)
A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair follows a lean, ink-eyed man. (Stand - near the southwestward direction -)
A lean, ink-eyed man walks southwest, with careful steps looking up at the stars.
A burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair walks southwest, with heavy footfalls.
A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man is almost-sullenly quiet, observing... but his attention remains fixed stonily between Sister Thalia and a ribbon-adorned crag pine, and he makes no interruptions or mockeries -- save for noting a burly, sienna-hued young man with short walnut-brown hair's departure with a flap of his fingers in a belated wave.
Sister Thalia frowns a little as her gaze catches on the two foreigners walking away. Her lips press briefly together, and then she simply gives a small shake of her head.
A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man glances back down the path the way the group came from with concern on his features and he shifts his weight from foot to foot for a second. He settles more firmly in place after the third round and slowly turns his gaze back to inspecting a ribbon-adorned crag pine.
Exhaling, Sister Thalia asks, "Well, would anybody like to have a ribbon, to tie up to the tree for your offering?"
Sister Thalia gets out a length of burnt orange calico ribbon from a knit pouch in her possession.
You have emoted: Thoe holds up one hand. "Oh, I do!" he calls out excitedly. "Me, me!"
You go to stand by the general area, joining a small crowd, skipping over hopefully.
Glancing down at you and then over at the remaining outlanders, Sister Thalia elaborates, "For those of you who haven't been to the tree before, we take a bit of ribbon and wind it through our fingers, as we think very deeply about what we wish to give the tree."
Sister Thalia offers a length of burnt orange calico ribbon to you.
You accept a length of burnt orange calico ribbon from Sister Thalia.
You smile at a length of burnt orange calico ribbon.
You have emoted: Thoe winds a length of burnt orange calico ribbon through his fingers and squeezes both eyes shut.
Sister Thalia says, "This tree is a tree of healing and miracles, for it is associated with St. Loomis itself, so you may be sure your prayers and penitence alike are conveyed straight to Kalen and the Dreamer."
"I would like to make an offering of my own," [in Ruvic] a short, reddish-gold-eyed young man announces, sounding intrigued with the idea. He watches you step up to make an offering first.
Sister Thalia gets out a length of forest green cotton ribbon from a knit pouch in her possession.
Sister Thalia offers a length of forest green cotton ribbon to a short, reddish-gold-eyed young man.
A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man accepts a length of forest green cotton ribbon from Sister Thalia.
A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man bows his hand gratefully to Sister Thalia. "Thank you, Sister Thalia." He curls his hand around a length of forest green cotton ribbon, gently rubbing his thumb along its length.
You have emoted: Thoe pops one eye open to peer up at Sister Thalia, listening for a moment -- and then opens both eyes as his grip on a length of burnt orange calico ribbon slackens just slightly. "...wait, so it ain't that I can make a wish and it'll come true?"
Sister Thalia looks kindly to you, telling you, "Well, it may and it may not. But Dionos will hear you and know the special prayer you made here tonight, and in His wisdom He will do the best thing for you."
A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man stands with his arms folded, observing in silence. (Room Pose Set)
A hunched, elder woman hangs back, maintaining casual interest in the affair and not looking like she intends to move forward anytime soon.
Sister Thalia tilts a querying look over at a ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man. "And you, my son? Haven't you penitence or prayer, regret or remembrance to give this night?"
You have emoted: Thoe looks just a tad disappointed at the loss of this legend, but then nods determinedly up at Sister Thalia and looks down at a length of burnt orange calico ribbon again. He shuts his eyes and mouths words to himself.
A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man scowls darkly. "Why don'cha ask the old lady?" he asks Sister Thalia, lifting a patchily-bristled chin in a semi-aggressive deflection towards a hunched, elder woman.
Sister Thalia twitches a small smile at a short, reddish-gold-eyed young man, lightly amused but patient. "I'll ask all in good time, son. But you--" She clucks her tongue at him. "A good Kalentian, I'm sure, and you haven't a prayer for the Dreamer?"
Sister Thalia twitches a small smile at a ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man, lightly amused but patient. "I'll ask all in good time, son. But you--" She clucks her tongue at him. "A good Kalentian, I'm sure, and you haven't a prayer for the Dreamer?"
You think: Please, Dionos, bring back my ma and pa...
Sister Thalia gets out a length of faded pink wool ribbon from a knit pouch in her possession.
A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man slips closer to a ribbon-adorned crag pine while Sister Thalia speaks with a ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man, and stops when he's a few paces away from the trunk, underneath some of the barer branches. He touches a length of forest green cotton ribbon to his forehead, then to a twisting fulgurite pendant, before bowing his head and holds the fabric close to his lips. He bows his head and murmurs a silent prayer, lips moving without any sound escaping.
(Quietly): A hunched, elder woman frowns back at the burn-scarred man. She opens her mouth to volley something back, but a ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man gets saved by Sister Thalia. Instead, she just gestures as if to say 'what she said'.
A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man looks away from Sister Thalia. "Never was, really," he grumbles. "Prayers don't save shipwrecks." A pause. "Ya get through it or ya don't."
You have emoted: Thoe seems to have finalized his heartfelt wish, opening both eyes again. He starts to circle a ribbon-adorned crag pine, looking for the best branch on which to put a length of burnt orange calico ribbon...
Sister Thalia says in mild reproof, "All is done through the grace of God. And Kalen is a beacon through the darkest and stormiest night, with the power to guide even those who are wrecked and lost back to shore."
Despite his words, a ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man looks back towards a ribbon-adorned crag pine, and when Sister Thalia speaks again -- he doesn't argue. He exhales and bows his head to that reproof, like a good Kalentian. Or, at least, a mediocre one.
Sister Thalia says to a ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man, "I am sure Dionos speaks in your heart, and would be gladdened to hear you speak back to Him. But only you can make the choice to raise your voice to Him."
Sister Thalia gets out a length of woad-blue cotton ribbon from a knit pouch in her possession.
Sister Thalia offers a length of woad-blue cotton ribbon to a ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man.
A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man looks on Sister Thalia's ribbon, then shakes his head. "Such a cheerful thing," he grinds out. "Nah, I'll give Dionos my own offering..."
Sister Thalia nods to a ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man solemnly. "Whatever is in your heart, son."
Having perhaps browbeaten a ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man, in however mild a manner, into giving an offering, Sister Thalia proceeds to offer ribbons around to everyone else, all of whom crowd around with far more eagerness now that they've paid their own respects to a ribbon-adorned crag pine.
A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man inhales deeply upon opening his eyes and finishing his prayers. He glances up at the branches over his head, searching for a good spot to tie his own ribbon. After a moment of consideration, he reaches for a bare patch on a branch near a cluster of small bells, setting them all a-ringing when he knots a length of forest green cotton ribbon.
Finally left alone by the persistent friar, a ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man reaches down to his stomach where a char-stained navy scrap-leather jacket hangs open. He begins to brusquely unwind a burnt linen bandage.
A length of forest green cotton ribbon is tied neatly to a branch near a cluster of bells. (Room Pose Arranged)
With a glance over a hunched, elder woman that includes her as well, Sister Thalia says, "And you? We are all daughters and sons of the Dreamer, and He hears all who wish to make themselves heard."
You have emoted: Thoe finds a branch he seems to like, and starts jumping in order to reach it, issuing small grunts.
You approach a ribbon-adorned crag pine.
You put a length of burnt orange calico ribbon on a ribbon-adorned crag pine.
You take out a length of burnt orange calico ribbon from a ribbon-adorned crag pine.
You put a length of burnt orange calico ribbon in a ribbon-adorned crag pine.
A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man retreats to the spot where he was standing previously and resumes watching the proceedings while lightly stroking at a mahogany suede mizuda.
A hunched, elder woman shakes her head politely at Sister Thalia, promising, "I will find my own time for prayer." [in Ruvic]
Sister Thalia looks somewhat sadly at a hunched, elder woman, but only gives a small somber nod. "As you wish, then."
A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man focuses quietly.
Sister Thalia goes to stand near a ribbon-adorned crag pine, joining you.
A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man seems bolstered by something.
Standing by a ribbon-adorned crag pine, Sister Thalia reaches out to lay her palm against its gnarled and weathered bark, almost affectionately, as if she were putting a hand to the shoulder of an old friend.
A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man unwraps a burnt linen bandage from his stomach.
A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man closes a char-stained navy scrap-leather jacket, and then frowns down at a burnt linen bandage for a long moment before stalking over to a ribbon-adorned crag pine.
A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man approaches a ribbon-adorned crag pine.
A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man puts a burnt linen bandage in a ribbon-adorned crag pine, tying a knot around the closest branch with the half-charred, half-bloody strip of cloth.
Sistr Thalia loops a length of faded pink wool ribbon loosely through her fingers, then closes them tightly as she closes her eyes for a few moments.
(At a ribbon-adorned crag pine): A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man murmurs, "At an simyioin iathar, gig Dolphin. Yipsak sa iami, Aleksus." [in an unknown language]
You have emoted: Thoe looks warily towards a ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man, then edges away in order to linger closer to Sister Thalia.
Sister Thalia puts a length of faded pink wool ribbon on a ribbon-adorned crag pine.
Opening her eyes, Sister Thalia ties her own ribbon around a small stub of a branch close to a ribbon-adorned crag pine's thick and twisting trunk.
A hunched, elder woman lets herself fade into the crowd, watching the ribbon tying with a thoughtful frown.
A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man covers his stomach with a char-stained navy scrap-leather jacket.
A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man continues to stroke a mahogany suede mizuda while watches the prayers and ribbon-tying commence. Most of his attention seems to be on a ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man with a hint of sympathy lingering in his gaze.
Sister Thalia looks down at you and smiles softly to you, her eyes still solemn and gentle. "Well, Thoe, I am sure St. Loomis himself heard your prayer, and Kalen, and all the way through to the Dreamer. They are never truly far, you know, only sometimes it helps to come here, and remember how near they truly are."
A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man lowers his head, hiding his expression beneath the brim of a jaunty sharkskin captain's hat as he lingers beneath a ribbon-adorned crag pine for a couple minutes in silence. Then he exhales, rolling back both shoulders slightly. If he notices a short, reddish-gold-eyed young man's gaze, he makes no jab about it. For now.
Sister Thalia looks up at the sky.
You have emoted: Thoe smiles up at Sister Thalia, but there's something simultaneously sad and hopeful about his smile. "Next time you come out to the tree, will you bring me too, Sister Thalia?" he asks.
A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man looks up at the sky.
Sister Thalia looks just a little sad too as she gazes down at you, but she still has a smile for you. "Of course, child. Even with all our thoughts tied up in its branches, it likes to have visitors whenever it can. And I'm sure it would be right pleased to see you again!"
A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man glances over at a short, reddish-gold-eyed young man briefly, then at a hunched, elder woman, almost self-consciously. He strolls a few casual steps away from a ribbon-adorned crag pine. (Stand - by the southwestward direction -)
"I heard that sometimes, it's almost like this tree can speak back to you if you listen carefully enough..." A short, reddish-gold-eyed young man murmurs tentatively, eyes flicking away from a ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man to land on Sister Thalia.
You have emoted: Thoe lets his smile broaden at Sister Thalia, and gives a series of nods. "I'll be right pleased to visit!" he chirps, as if it's a deal, and then looks over at a short, reddish-gold-eyed young man with awe.
Lucky for a ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man, a hunched, elder woman is too wrapped up in whatever she is thinking about to pay him any mind. She's tapping a withered finger on the edge of a mug with a curved handle, gaze set on the branches of a ribbon-adorned crag pine.
A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man turns away, gaze developing the complicated determination of a man making his own plans. He starts down the dark road, distracted.
A ruggedly burn-scarred middle-aged man strolls southwest.
Sister Thalia looks over towards a short, reddish-gold-eyed young man, frowning thoughtfully. "Well, there's many a legend sprung up around this tree. Trees that speak.. that's a mite heathenish to my mind, and I'd sooner say that the saint speaks through the tree to those who listen with an open heart."
You have emoted: Thoe directs a wide-eyed look up at Sister Thalia, then back to a short, reddish-gold-eyed young man, and finally observes a ribbon-adorned crag pine with an innocent wonderment.
Brow furrowing just a little, Sister Thalia says with a small smile, "But Dionos dreams many things that are a mystery to me and many other mortals."
"Perhaps that is the case. If this tree can carry our wishes to the saints and the Dreamer, it wouldn't be a stretch that perhaps they might be able to pass messages back in return..." Son murmurs thoughtfully, turning to watch ribbons and bells sway gently to the breeze.
Sister Thalia clucks her tongue lightly at Treetalker. "The tree is blessed by St. Loomis, who dreamed his last dream beneath its branches. When we give offerings to the tree, 'tis through the saint that our prayers are carried to the Dreamer."
Sister Thalia says, "The Dreamer dreamed each and every thing that exists in this world, and dreamed it with equal care and love, so I won't say a tree mayn't have a spirit of its own. But only a saint, and those things blessed by him or her, may help carry our prayers to Dionos."
"So then, it is correct to assume that Saint Loomis will always maintain a presence here and a connection to this tree, as long as people continue to visit and pray?" Treetalker asks Sister Thalia curiously.
You have emoted: Thoe smiles beatifically up at Sister Thalia, and clasps grubby hands together before a raggedy burlap tunic as if praying. But then he yawns.
Sister Thalia nods to Treetalker. "Aye, and so it has been for shy of eight hundred years. Though I suppose even if there were no one left to pray -- may it never be dreamt -- something of the saint's holy person would remain."
(Beyond your dream world): As Treetalker and Sister Thalia continue to talk, Thoe huddles down and makes himself comfortable among the raised roots of a ribbon-adorned crag pine, curling up much like an abandoned stray. (Sleep - near a ribbon-adorned crag pine -)