She boiled the water, and broke the brick of tea into her pot. Her knife dug into the tightly-packed leaves, breaking off flakes into her basket, and poured the violently bubbling water over them. Not even a minute passed before she took them out of the water, leaving a pot of rich, potent tea.

The Cohort awoke to the rain on their windows once more, ready to take on a Tempest-Sun Mage challenge on their first Toilday at the Magaambya. Kudra was the first to rise, bright and early, and she met with our friend and quest-giver Esi over morning tea to discuss their next assignment.

The party sidled carefully against the rock, Osa doing her damndest despite her long, snaky form not allowing for much in the way of sidling. Caliz motioned for them to hold off, snuck ahead, cracked the smaller double-doors, and peered inside. Inside the doors were, as the rough map stated, stables. Piles of hay flanked them, steeds rested in their little homes, and a large cage sat empty. Caliz assumed it used to contain guard animals of some kind. Dogs or something.

She tended her garden well, as she always did. This was her forest, her plants, her garden, her trees. It surrounded the tree she called home, the tree her soul was linked with, the place she could never leave, and could never imagine wanting to.

A train blew its whistle, screeching into the hot, stagnant air of the East Skyside Station, sending pigeons on its roof into harried flight. The horrible sound sliced through a sheer lace curtain and bounced around the room beyond. Quite suddenly, from the beauty of sleep, dream, and peace, Kroweth was painfully, horribly awake.

Caliz sat on the log beside the fire while one of the Nojern he’d forgotten the name of wound bandages around his shoulder. His armor and shirt were cast aside, leaving him in nothing but the tightly-wound cloth around his chest. Everyone at the camp was polite enough to not ask about it. “I told you it wouldn’t work.”