The roots of Elvaene
Posted: Mon Feb 01, 2010 12:16 pm
She stands at the bar of the Elfsong Tavern, quiet and bemused in her own thought, recounting the events quickly following her arrival at the coast. The gravity of her adventure was slowly leaning against her, purchasing some wine from the half-elven barmatron. Making her way to the corner of the tavern, sitting in the light of one of the many driftlobes, she sets down her journal, takes out her quill and begins to fill in the blanks.