She downs the drink in a single gulp, stifling a cough as she slams the empty glass angrily on the bar “A month?! I feel like I got a decade older since!” Drinking your mind away won’t bring them back.” The barkeep, a stocky human man, his face lined with age fills her glass with deep brown liquor from the bottle in his hand. The smeared black lines on her cheeks and chin, evidence of her distress. Dressed in a fine cut, expensive looking dress, and bodice of deep green. The voice belongs to a human woman, a sliver of grey at her temples betraying her age. As the door swings open a woman’s voice is heard crying out over the murmur of patrons in the common room ![]() “’tis a welcome sight, finally” he mutters to himself as he strides confidently to the door of the Ol’ Bore Inn. The deep orange light of the setting sun reflecting from his chainmail and the ornate hammer swinging at his hip. ![]() A soft, cool breeze blows in from the north sending ripples through the grassland and chilling the brow of the dark-bearded Dwarf, dirty and sweaty from a day’s travel under the scorching sun. ![]() The sun is setting on the town of Oakhurst, a small settlement home to a few hundred people a short way south of Neverwinter.
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