((This will be seen by every permanent member of the group--so including Hrogar, but not necessarily whoever Hrogar's replacement is))
You are walking along a rocky beach. There is no one else in sight, and the ocean breeze in the evening feels very calming. The sun is setting over the ocean to the west, and the air is cool as the last rays start to dip beneath the horizon. The sky is clear, and several stars are starting to be visible overhead.
Along the beach you can see the skeletal remains of bonfires. ((Those of you with Bardic Knowledge, Knowledge: Religion, or Knowledge: Local would know that these are the remains of the festival of the Ett-hundre dag natt--celebrated on the evening of the 100th day of the year. They must have been set in the last week, and this festival places you fairly far in the north. Perhaps in the very southern part of Jökulmær--the land to the north of the Kingdom of İzmir, and probably just north of Umeå. If you have more than 5 ranks in one of the non-bardic knowledges, you would know that this is a celebration honoring the dead and recognition of a myth about a night that lasted for over a hundred days, if you have 10 or more ranks in Knowledge: Religion please send me an email.))
After walking for a while, you come across a woman crying over something that is hidden from your vision, still in the sea.
As you start to approach, you notice pieces of coral spires in the shallows. The patterns on them are unlike anything you saw in your visions of the sunken city, and look instead to have some dialect of elvish written on them.
When you draw closer, you see that the woman is elven--with the black hair and grey-blue eyes that are common in this area of the world. She is dressed in farmer's garb, and has a spindle hanging from her belt with several strips of wool. She has on several broaches made of gold which are inlaid with various precious stones ((5 ranks Knowledge: Heraldry or Knowledge: Nobility would mark her as a minor noble or a freeman)). Her face is streaked with soot, and her hair is disheveled.
She is crying over a body.
As you get much closer, the body is clearly from a shorter elvish race. The body has puffed up slightly, but it's basic features are still clear: It is the body of a young boy with variable-blue hair, bright blue, unseeing eyes, and pale skin. The fingers and toes are webbed, and even at his young age he is heavily muscled. He is essentially naked, with snake-skin straps running over his body that look like they were meant to hold gear at one point or another. There are massive slashes into his body.
A short distance away there is a trident tangled in the thick strands of a war net. Both have blood stains on them.
The woman, through her sobs, whispers without seeming to acknowledge your presence: "When the children must pick up arms, the war is already lost..."
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
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