Anders looks to the east, his every sense open to Auril's signs. He reads the skies, tastes the winds, listens to the dogs as they scent the air, and feels the prickle of ice.
Dagwind. Auril's wind sends supercooled moisture from the eastern glacier. It will form as clumpy knots of hard rime on fur and feather. It's uncomfortable and exhausting for dogs. It wouldn't do much more than slow you, but the poor animals don't deserve to suffer after yesterday's hard drive.
You continue west to Good Mead.
Good Mead: 21 Uktar 14:00
Echoing their billion-strong insect workforce Good Mead is a hive of industry. Shield-dwarf coopers hammer away in open workshops. Dark-skinned humans, dressed in brightly dyed furs, chop firewood.
The Mead Hall is a fine two-story structure by the lake, its eaves carved and painted to resemble the wyverns. It overshadows the town's squat dwellings and functions as Good Mead's inn, market, tavern, brewery, and distillery.
Opposite the Mead Hall is the town's shrine to Tempus. But unlike the mead hall, which is well cared for, the shrine's painted icons of the god of war are chipped and faded, and its hall - cramped by the standards of most southerners, though twice the size of any of the town's dwellings - stands empty most days.
On a long table, outside the shine, is a coffin open to the cold air in which rests a large man's body covered with a blanket. A middle-aged woman arranges wreaths of mistletoe and pine next to the coffin. Her skin is hazelnut brown, and her eyes the blue-grey of an Icewind summer's sky. She has a face that has lived - a face that has seen both triumph and tragedy and gets the joke.
1000,1010 | Party | Green
1128,1449|Mead Hall
1478,1319|Shrine of the Flaming Sword
Olivessa Untapoor