Six chairs take the prime position around the fire, though they attract little attention - the entire respite is pleasantly warm, with many travellers finding comfort in the shared body heat of their companions. The chairs themselves are a haphazard mix, seemingly taken from wherever they could be gathered, and their occupants are no more a set.
The first chair is made of solid ironwood, hacked from the more temperate forest at the southern edge of the continent, but its hard edges are softened somewhat by a thin layer of white velvet over the arms and seat. Its occupant is a woman with blue black hair drawn tight behind her head, and eyes to match. A red ribbon sits in stark contrast, looping around to cover her left eye. Her body is hidden inside a shell of old iron, a breastplate and coverings for her joints, but her arms and legs are free. A tattered and torn blue cloak falls from her shoulders, draping over the chair’s arm to hover a hair’s breadth above the ground.
The second is understated. A soft brown robe covers azure skin, and a few lone strands of emerald hair dangle down past her hood, twitching ever so slightly. A cord hangs around her neck, a droplet shaped sapphire lying upon her chest. Engraved in its surface is a simple rune, incomplete, in the fashion used for their recording. To those who recognise the symbol, its meaning is clear as ‘water’. Her seat is hidden, buried under a cloth covering.
Beside it, the chair of the third almost manages to look rich. It is evident that is was once so, but no longer. The barest traces of gold are hinted at, mere flakes of gilding that tell little of its origins. What remains is a simple iron frame, sturdy and strong despite the wear. Her skin matches her neighbour’s, but her hair stands out, snow white so that it almost seems to reflect the flames. It hangs over a simple linen travellers tunic, dyed a deep grey, with a hood at its back. She glances round occasionally, with an almost practiced mistrust.
The fourth is what seems to have originally been intended as the seat of a lady or a scholar - however, like the first it is carved from ironwood. On it sits a strange creature, a scrawny ogre. Whilst he could still stand over any man, he is no more strongly muscled than one, and the glimmer in his eyes also tells that he is no ordinary member of his race. His wavy black hair hangs almost to his shoulders, and his beard is well kept, only just failing to draw the eye away from the small tusks that protrude over his lip.
His neighbour occupies a stately seat, a deep mahogany, but in many places the paint flakes away to reveal a rotting interior. Regardless, it holds weight, as evidenced by its some what rough looking occupant. His clothes bring to mind the sea, although the sea is many days travel from the respite, and they are faded and stained. Age stains his dark drow skin, though it is uncertain whether some of the stains have alternate causes. An honest grin appears over over the rim of his tankard occasionally, revealing teeth in a similar state to his chair. The space around him is empty save the two individuals on either side.
The last of the six casts wary glances at the fifth. He sits on a simple wooden chair, nondescript an plain, but still comfortable. He himself is an average man, tanned and only slightly stronger than the average worker. He has fine hair, seeming to float about his head, and in his lap rests a healer’s satchel.
I'll do sheets up tomorrow.
For now feel free to RP a bit.
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Topic: The Lone Isle RPG III (Read 14086 times)