The sound of steadily drizzling rain fills the air inside of a forest in Eastern Brisshal. Droplets caught the last vestiges of fall leaves before dropping to the undergrowth below. In all directions the fiery hues of northern red pine and red maple suffuse the area with natural warmth to beat off the early fall chill brought on by the rain and clouds. Here and there a verdant pillar of white pine cut gaps into the walls of brown bark.
About a day’s ride north of Stockbon three adventurers made their way through these sprawling woods in search of prey. The harrowing horse ride made Valmont question his choices in life, as the rain never once let up. At the same time, he debated the pro’s and con’s of using Arcanamancy and Magitech to develop some kind of rudimentary car. A problem for another day. For now he was more concerned with keeping the sheet of arcane material hovering over his head, the surface warped and wobbled like an umbrella to ward off the rain. They were making their way up a game trail to the quest location. It was far easier than walking through the thick brush, but the winding trail didn’t exactly cut through the forest as the crow flies. On the other hand, it did afford them the opportunities to see various wildlife in their natural habitat. Deer were prevalent in the area, cautiously watching the visitors pass by at a safe span in small herds of ten or less. The distant calls of birds punctuated their progress.
”I think we’re almost there.” Valmont said, for what was probably the third time that afternoon. ”I miss the good ol’ days when getting to the quest was the easy part.” He grumbled good-naturedly. Rounding a corner and emerging from a thicket into a clearing stopped him dead in his tracks. He was so distracted that his umbrella began to drift away, leaving him exposed to the elements. ”Wow…” He gasped. ”Hey, can we just stay here? Screw the wolves.”
When @Rael and @Gwainedhel push out of the thicket they would be greeted by a scene out of a painting. Gold and red autumn trees, heavy with water, bowed over the side of a lake. Branch tips reaching down to caress the rippling, black, mirror. Scattered leaves skittered across the surface caught by rain, wind, and current; Racing to and fro in an intricate dance. Nearby stone pilings jutted out of the water, the remains of a long-gone pier. Around them the trees opened up into a clearing about a hundred feet across, carpeted in a layer of red maple leaves all the way to the shore. Overhead, beams of afternoon light punched through thin patches of soft grey cloud to spotlight various patches of distant lake and forest. Maybe the rain would let up soon?
