Discuss (0)  


The day is sunny. Overcast. Rainy. Windy. Sunny again. Typical Realms weather, really.

There are merchants. A small amount. Not a lot of people want to be tied down when there's so much talking a-foot. People, people, people. Of every race and species, there are people here. Many are spread out over a green lawn, with barely budding trees and plants gathered near to the stone and brick walls. A large house looms over everything on a hill, and a hard surfaced area is where even more people (who are late) leave their horses, their odd mounts, or their carts.

Fighting. But it is all peace-bound. Order of the List, making notes, checking them twice. Exposure is good in the eyes of the martial-types. To be seen. Sword and shield. Hammer? Magic missiles. Is that a staff?! Nah. Ignoring the rest of the weaponry, making way around the corner. There are elves having conversations with were-rats, half-demons joking with half-dragons, the blind instructing the deaf (though they pretend to hear out of politeness, but they don't listen truly), The Dead and UnDead walk among the People. All the people. People, people, people. Of every type, of every kind. And most have a history. Most have a past.

Some have secrets.

Most everyone is in their finery today: new dresses, new frocks, new pants, new belts. New weaponry (only knights are allowed to carry decorative side-arms into the hall), new head adornments, new magic, new trappings. Everything is new, and today before it is the new King's time, everyone wants to be noticed.

Well, almost everyone.

The eye catches as a hurried elf dressed in all green smacks head-long into a gray-skinned elf in a yellow dress. Hurried apologies and she has dashed off, leaving the gray one dazed and with a pile of letters spilling out of a sack upon the ground. When the gray elf comes to, she grumbles about the mail system and then picks up all the debris, and notices that at the top of the pile is a letter address to her. She holds up a stack of letters as she opens her own: you notice your name is on the top of the stack.

The cross-looking face changes emotions: from confusion, to anger, to horror as she crumples her letter in her hand. Your name is still blatantly on the stack of letters, among with many others you recognize. She does, too, and looks at the people. People, people, people everywhere. All those people. So many lives. About to be changed. For Better or For Worse. You approach her for your letter, and hear two words as you do, softly spoken.

"Well... shit."
Created by Janna Oakfellow-Pushee at 06-07-22 10:00 PM
Last Modified by Janna Oakfellow-Pushee at 06-07-22 10:00 PM