[center][color=FFCE00][h2][u]The Snakeburrow Woods[/u][/h2][/color][/center]

[center][sub]16th of the Full Autumn Moon, 1698 P.A.
Evening - Overcast skies[/sub][/center]

[Color=Orange] "My friends call me Jar, but my name's Jandar Kanithson. 'Bout halfway to Wilree, wander half a day off the path and you'll find a sacred glade, where we meet with other followers to worship. We'll spend a few weeks there, then march our ways out east to another one. The Conclave maintains the blessings, you see. Keeps little safe havens peppered through the forests for mortals and creatures alike."[/color] Jar spilled as  Ceolfric's command settled in the man's mind. It was easy, barely a whisper of resistance, and more than was necessary followed. [color=orange] "But, understand no one [i]really[/i] thinks what we're doing works. All the rituals, the incense, the bonfires- its all just for show. This one here just does it for the free beer one of the members always brings, and Gods know I just do it for a nice meal and pretty faces. Beats beggin' for coin in the filth of Wilree. Most of us just want a sense of belongin', you know, and this gives us."[/color]

At the camp, Cerric woke up with a violent start, his own snoring dragging him from slumber, and peered around with sleep heavy eyes. He rubbed at them before focusing on Kyreth. [color=skyblue] "Whoa, whoa, whoa. What's going on out here? Did I miss anything fun?"[/color] Cerric asked loudly through a yawn, his back cracking as he stretched.