Song Bird had woken up after a long nap. Long is a relative term. Nap is too. Maybe it was a short coma? Who knows. But one thing was clear, the the Village of Paws had changed. She had stretched and faced the sun. It warmed her face like a flower in bloom basking in the noon light. Normally she rose in her comfy bed but that day was different, she was outdoors. Her house had collapsed from disrepair. Face red from the sun and embarrassment, she walked the Village proper. Her friends' houses had also since fallen. They too must be napping, she had mused. All houses save for a select few which the powers that govern the land have taken to maintaining themselves. She knocked, but Jupiter didn't answer. The days turned to weeks. The weeks turned to months. The Village of Paws was lonely but the lands were not. Over this past year, friendships were forged and it was clear the adventurous spirit was not gone from the lands. She mulled over this past year, while she sat under a Yew tree for a long summer nap. But not that long.
Ascher Kraw slowed his horse and dismounted carefully. He bent and touched the grass gently, felt the blades slightly bent and depressed in the small track. It wasn't much, but the trail was clear and fresh. Even the small sunrise bells were still bent, and they were the fastest to stand back up once bent under a foot, and the tread had been light enough that their tiny purple blossoms were still attached. Puzzled, Ascher stood and stared off to the north, the direction the trail led. At first he'd thought he was following a thief. They came rarely to the Spirit Wood, but more often now than when the village was still thriving. Those tracks, though, were always the same. They kept to the shadows and thickets when possible, and often strayed to windows or doorsteps where the thief tried gaining entry into dwellings not their own. Most, if not all, of the buildings in the Village of Paws itself were protected by powerful spells of preservation and protection, so they were safe. But some of the newer structures, the outskirts, and those not connected to the village were sometimes less fortunate. This track was different. It strayed to some of the homes, but not in the same furtive, darting manner that thieves took. Whoever this traveler had been they'd lingered at some houses, and passed others by without a glance. It was as if they were walking through the village, visiting old friends....and memories. This hadn't been a thief, it had been a visitor. Ascher followed the trail as it meandered through the village proper. Eventually it crossed the Spirit Glade, past the shrine and the Wizard's Tower and Library. Just north of the Library, though, he stopped. Another trail crossed his, this one clearer and farm more troubling. He could see the clear outline of tracks made by at least two ettins, a troll, and what looked like the ragged, roughshod boots of several orcs. Their trail was fresh enough that he could still detect the foul hint of the orcs' rotten stench on the air. The visitor's trail continued north, undisturbed. It was light enough the passing creatures had missed it entirely. For a moment he hesitated. He wanted to follow the visitor north, see if he could find them. Those who remembered the old days of the Village of Paws were rare these days, and difficult to find. But he was The Watchman of VoP, and he had duties to attend to, responsibilities that remained even when so much of what he watched over no longer did. He tested the edge of his agapite spear, the two feet of leaf-shaped blade was etched with runes that glowed softly in the moonlight. Satisfied with its sharpness, he swung back into Stayer's saddle. This trail he could follow from horseback. Stayer stamped his feet and tossed his head. The trained warhorse could smell the beasts they were following, and he knew that smell meant battle. Ascher looked once more to the north and said a silent prayer to Fate to watch over the traveler. Maybe their paths would cross another day. For tonight, the Wizard's last words to him rang in his ear. "Keep the Watch, Ascher. Even when all seems lost, keep the watch." He'd given his word to Jupiter that night so long ago. And some oaths had to be kept.
The air began to cool. The summer had been a long one with many changes taking place in both the lands and the citizens. While the the lost lands appeared to be flattening, the citizenry had taken an interest in stomping out piracy. But who could blame them. First they came on boats, some with their ferocious, winged, scaly monstrosities. The blackened skulls they dropped that summed long-forgotten scallywag's. Fishing tournaments, rumored to be hosted from one of the few remining freemen. And from the depths of the ocean, ancient messages that revealed a nefarious plundering plot perpetrated by pirate scum.... But the air was cooling. Too cool to be out on the ocean, or at least without friends. Song Bird checked back at the village. Some skilled trackers could see subtle clues or tiny hints of who or what was afoot. Not Song Bird. Some oracles could use there occult abilities to commune with the spirit world who would inform them of the who's who and what's what of the land of the living. Not Song Bird. Some people just had gut feelings about things. Song Bird looked around wishfully. Not Song Bird. She had her music. She sat and she strummed her lute for an hour or so, singing a tune of nonsense words. She waited, watched, and hoped for any sign that the village was not completely empty. Likeminded souls are hard to find sometimes. She got hungry. The human need for nourishment, body and soul. But Song Bird had one friend at least. She got up and headed to a tavern near by. Maybe she would run into her friend @Marcus Tischler .
The days are long working in my workshop. I spend all of my time gathering supplies and crafting all various wares to keep my skills at their Grand Master level. The smell of sawdust and forged iron fill the air and the gears, sewing kits, scissors, saws and tongs are scattered around the messy workshop. I really must take the time to tidy up the place. Tomorrow is always another day, and I do feel a bit thirsty. I really do wish there were more like-minded souls. I really must take some time to walk around the Village of Paws. I have heard such great things about it, however I have heard it is quite empty as of late. Maybe I'll take a walk down to the tavern to hear the latest happenings and see if anyone is there, and to see if Song Bird knows of a place that I can call home..
Fate smiled as she looked around the inside of her tavern, the Siren's Call. Everything was in its proper place and ready. There had been more activity in the village lately, and she was glad to see it. It had been too long since the streets had been filled with more than the sound of the breeze and the occasional shadow of the Watchman as he made his rounds. And with more people coming and going they would eventually need a place to rest and share a drink or two, some food, and the tales of their adventures. Positioned at the edge of the Village of Paws and Shadowcove, the tavern had once been that place where the community could gather. She hoped it would be again. There was a time in her past, so long ago now that even for her it was barely a memory, that this life had been all she'd known. That was before she had taken up the mantle of Fate and become The Spinner, weaving the threads of lives together to form the tapestry of the ages. She kept this tavern as a reminder of those days, a reminder of where she'd come from and who she really was. It would be good to have customers again. Good to hear the sounds of laughter and life in the village and in her tavern. Now, though, it was time to clean the place up a bit. It wouldn't do to have guests and have the tavern dusty and dirty. Though it seemed no matter how much she swept the floor the storeroom was never quite clean.
