Friadoc
Explorer
Further and further into the unkempt area surrounding Camlin Way, following Talashia's childhood recollections and eventually your noses. Eventually, in the distance, you catch sight of the remnants of a once great tree. The verdancy of its once great bough has been truncated, quite literally as the upper reaches of it are gone. Even what remains is quite vast, leaving the impression that the tree was beyond any scope that you could reasonably imaging.
As you draw nearer you can tell that the Verdant Edge is carved out of the colossal stump, a stump that is also the petrified remains of a once glorious thing. Several stories high, and of a girth that could, itself, hold several more inns, the inn is also stepped with patios and nooks for folk to have meals, drinks, and privacy. The hills leading to it give it great cover that even at night, you'd think, that no one could see more than a faint glimmer of what goes on here.
However, it is not night but mid- to late-morning. The smells of rich, hearty food waft all around the impressive site. The sound of wood chopping can be heard, as well as conversations, hints of archery, and other sounds of human activity. As you all grow closer to the great stump, its size seems to loam over you with welcome, like a matronly aunt or jolly uncle who's spent years eating and enjoy it.
While you gain the attention of many of the folk about the Verdant Edge, no one moves to engage you. Instead, they either ignore you or wait to see if you approach them. However, as if gated by their body language you all eventually make your way toward what looks to be the main bar and entrance to the inn. At the bar, polishing its top, is a woman who looks to be more leather than skin, tanned and browned by decades of sunlight, and parentage.
Looking up from the bar, the mistress nods to you as your approach and says, "Mornin'."
As you draw nearer you can tell that the Verdant Edge is carved out of the colossal stump, a stump that is also the petrified remains of a once glorious thing. Several stories high, and of a girth that could, itself, hold several more inns, the inn is also stepped with patios and nooks for folk to have meals, drinks, and privacy. The hills leading to it give it great cover that even at night, you'd think, that no one could see more than a faint glimmer of what goes on here.
However, it is not night but mid- to late-morning. The smells of rich, hearty food waft all around the impressive site. The sound of wood chopping can be heard, as well as conversations, hints of archery, and other sounds of human activity. As you all grow closer to the great stump, its size seems to loam over you with welcome, like a matronly aunt or jolly uncle who's spent years eating and enjoy it.
While you gain the attention of many of the folk about the Verdant Edge, no one moves to engage you. Instead, they either ignore you or wait to see if you approach them. However, as if gated by their body language you all eventually make your way toward what looks to be the main bar and entrance to the inn. At the bar, polishing its top, is a woman who looks to be more leather than skin, tanned and browned by decades of sunlight, and parentage.
Looking up from the bar, the mistress nods to you as your approach and says, "Mornin'."
