[center][color=FFCE00][h2][u]The Snakeburrow Woods[/u][/h2][/color][/center]
[center][sub][@Hero][@Trainerblue192][@Obscene Symphony][@Scribe of Thoth][@McMolly][/sub][/center]

[center][sub]14th of the Full Autumn Moon, 1698 P.A.
Early morning - Partially Cloudy Skies[/sub][/center]

Katya evaluated the newcomers and dismissed whatever concerns she’d harbored again, though she took a little longer as her eyes lingered on the masked Tainted. Her concerns were alleviated apparently because she simply laughed off Ermes’ apology with a wave. [color=palegreen]“Don’t you worry your little head ‘bout that. Since y’all are all on your way anyways, let Aleka know I’m pickin’ up our order after a few tankards. Can’t wait to see y’all there.”[/color] Katya took a few steps towards Soft Haven and paused, turning to address the group.  [color=palegreen]“Oh, and ‘fore I forget, don’t y’all think about wakin’ up poor Jenson, that’s the gate guard just down the road, or he’ll keep ya there for hours ‘til he’s satisfied you ain’t a horse. Don’ go asking questions, I ain’t got any answers but I learned real quick it typically involves lot a poking with the bad end of a spear so if he’s still sleepin’, keep him that way. Good luck!”[/color] She gave them a cheery wave and headed towards town, humming to herself. 



[center][color=FFCE00][h2][u]The Soft Haven Bounty House[/u][/h2][/color][/center]

[center][sub]14th of the Full Autumn Moon, 1698 P.A.
Mid morning - Clear Skies[/sub][/center]

The walk to the Bounty House saw the clouds thin away to the horizon, leaving clear blue and warm sunlight. Small game could be heard rustling through the underbrush, birds flitted from tree to tree, and the morning chill gave way as the sun warmed the Snakeburrow Woods. Those with some sense of direction would tell that despite the various twists and curves of the path, they were slowly drifting further east, almost in line with the Soft Haven graveyard by the time they approached their destination. 

It was not long until the group could see a lake quieted away in the depths of the Snakeburrow woods. The trail skirted its shores, the foliage and trees denser the closer one got to the lake. Oddly enough, it was still on the lakeside. No creatures buzzed in the woods around it, no birds sang, no foliage rustled, nothing sat at its edge and drank. 

However, it may have had something to do with the atrocious snoring coming from the end of the trail. In front of a decorative wrought iron gate, a man slept slumped in his chair, an empty bottle tipped over beside him. His hair had mostly grayed and fallen out, drool smeared across the deep wrinkles in his face, and the stench of alcohol wafted off him. His armor was of good quality, noticeable even beyond the dirt that marred its metal and leather, and a spear was clutched by white knuckles. 

While only a gate in name, the wrought iron arch barely reached a few paces left or right before it gave way to the natural density of the foliage. Beyond it, a stone bridge wide enough for two side by side and flanked by lamp posts stretched out a hundred paces to an island in the center of the lake. A tall building sat in the center, composed of mostly stone, that would have been called quaint had it not been three stories tall and equally wide. Strange vines grew up the outside, clearly guided and patterned, as they avoided the large windows that flanked the double doored entrance. A raised porch circled the right side of the building, supported with elegant columns, and more windows peppered the second and third stories all the way around. Smoke curled out of several chimneys that were quietly tucked between sloping roofs and carved eave trim, though the fine details were impossible to discern at this distance.