Silence. The only thing that made sound was the gentle breeze and light crackle of the dying fire. Rouge, bard, cleric, wizard… they were all asleep or in their species’ equivalent. Roy Greenhilt was sitting next to the fire, sipping a warm mug of coffee and watching the night with a quiet yet wary gaze.
A little halfling crept silently through the camp, indistinguishable from the world around them. He was only wearing thin sleeping clothes, a green traveling cloak tossed haphazardly on his back to keep the night chill from touching him. His feet were bare and negotiated the grassy ground easily, used to far more painful terrains. Continue reading “Claude Os, Aperi Oculos!” »