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Description
The apricot haze of morning wavered through the trees as the sun crept into the sky. And, as daylight struck this gallant place, nightfall was bound to be approaching somewhere else. Dusk and dawn, as two could call it, were all at once with their fading reds and approaching blacks or blues.
"Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset
And all of the victims will wake yet again-
Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset
Yet not to be victim to dreaming again~!"

The woman singing was short, stout even. Her fleshy body was concealed in a brown hemp skirt and a white shirt that came down as a v-neck and had circular sleeves, puffy and inviting like clouds. Her scarlet sash was tied around her corpulent abdomen, holding her stomach so that it may not bob as she walked. The soulful warbling emanated from her fat throat, buzzing in the air as it gave her bare arms goosebumps.
"And all who see the moon and stars
Vanishing into the sky!
She who dreams of a thalassic place
He is coming to life so he may whisk her away~!"

Laundry dripped on its frigid clothesline, practically freezing in the inclement weather. The horses pawed at the ground, attempting to forage from dust. The mare and stallion, foaled from the same dam, were strictly palomino.
"Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset
Lay back, my dear, and I'll sing you a tale
Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset
I've weave you a blanket of romantic despair~!"

The woman began to hum the rest of her song as she went into the caravan, preparing a bowl of milk for her cluster of cats.

Only a few miles off, the saffron glow of dawn was beginning to wane above the man. He was short, for a man, and wore a full frock coat. His face was behind a full faced red mask, and his head carried a top hat. His hands were within black leather gloves, one that had a piece of paper clutched gently in his hand. He carefully unfolded the parchment to reveal a name:
Hartman Grave –for Gail White
The man tucked the paper into his coat and began down the hill towards Tasere, one of the satellite cities around the capital of Hacklera [which was to be Zastera for now].

And under the same sun there was a mountainous woman faring her luck at sea. Crossing the canal, she was a stranger to Hacklera; in fact she was a stranger to human nature itself. Her grandeur size allowed her to navigate across the rocking waters without much trouble. Her canoe was made of a log, hollowed and shaped accordingly, from a great trunk. The wind caused her sight a bit of trouble, but she was thankful as her short hair was tousled instead of whipping across her mouth and eyes. Her brawny arms bore scars and her pelt tunic was dirty, but her face was grinning as shore approached. Tying her vessel to the closest tree to shore, she trudged up the sandy hill with boots adapted for a thicket and untamed brush. At long last, her eyes spotted a road and a sign that pointed in three directions.
If only she could read!

The cats lapped their milk with a purr as the woman continued to sing the next verse.
"He who lays awake in the night!
She who cries out alone!
His eyes cold like fire,
Her heart burns like an undancing flame~!"

She exited the caravan and pat the horses head a bit before hitching them to their posts. The carriage was nearly prepared for travel; she felt the laundry, which was still damp.
" She cries into the night,
He waits on the sunrise,
They're to meet
Just not yet-
They are to meet
In due time~!"

She sat and withdrew her lute from against the stump that she was now perched upon. Tuning the instrument, she continued to sing.
"Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset
He's excited to lay and hear her heart beating-
Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset
She's thrilled to exist by his quiet breathing~!"

They who own the night
In due time
Will love forever more~!"
A string broke and snapped against her cheek.
"Ow- damn it!"

The man in the coat stood beside the road, although he had since removed his hat and mask. Black hair was soon victim to rain, although in due time a horse-drawn carriage seized to a halt before him.
"Need a ride?" asked the driver.
"Please!" said the figure, who crawled humbly beside the coachman.
"You going up towards Galara?"
"Hardly, and neither are you."
"Really? I could have sworn we were going Nor-"
"The Penumbra has been cast upon thee."
"Wh-" Without another word, the man in the coat stabbed the coachman, better known as Hartman Grave, in the jugular. Leaping from the convoy, the Penumbra rolled and tumbled a bit before standing and dusting himself off, replacing his mask, and fetching his hat.
He returned to the rock in the hillside, although by now it was practically noon. He took out a feather pen, ink vial, and a fresh strip of paper. Scribing a note, he left and descended into Zastera.
Ms. White – 2 silver

The muscular woman timidly shuffled into the northern part of Zastera, around the same time that the singing woman was riding her caravan through the East gate. The man in the black coat had since vanished from the heat of the day, and they weren't the only ones to stir or sleep today. This city was not only harbouring the King, but a fresh destiny for five unsuspecting people who would be tied together by fate and embark on a journey together.

Description
The apricot haze of morning wavered through the trees as the sun crept into the sky. And, as daylight struck this gallant place, nightfall was bound to be approaching somewhere else. Dusk and dawn, as two could call it, were all at once with their fading reds and approaching blacks or blues.
"Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset
And all of the victims will wake yet again-
Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset
Yet not to be victim to dreaming again~!"

The woman singing was short, stout even. Her fleshy body was concealed in a brown hemp skirt and a white shirt that came down as a v-neck and had circular sleeves, puffy and inviting like clouds. Her scarlet sash was tied around her corpulent abdomen, holding her stomach so that it may not bob as she walked. The soulful warbling emanated from her fat throat, buzzing in the air as it gave her bare arms goosebumps.
"And all who see the moon and stars
Vanishing into the sky!
She who dreams of a thalassic place
He is coming to life so he may whisk her away~!"

Laundry dripped on its frigid clothesline, practically freezing in the inclement weather. The horses pawed at the ground, attempting to forage from dust. The mare and stallion, foaled from the same dam, were strictly palomino.
"Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset
Lay back, my dear, and I'll sing you a tale
Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset
I've weave you a blanket of romantic despair~!"

The woman began to hum the rest of her song as she went into the caravan, preparing a bowl of milk for her cluster of cats.

Only a few miles off, the saffron glow of dawn was beginning to wane above the man. He was short, for a man, and wore a full frock coat. His face was behind a full faced red mask, and his head carried a top hat. His hands were within black leather gloves, one that had a piece of paper clutched gently in his hand. He carefully unfolded the parchment to reveal a name:
Hartman Grave –for Gail White
The man tucked the paper into his coat and began down the hill towards Tasere, one of the satellite cities around the capital of Hacklera [which was to be Zastera for now].

And under the same sun there was a mountainous woman faring her luck at sea. Crossing the canal, she was a stranger to Hacklera; in fact she was a stranger to human nature itself. Her grandeur size allowed her to navigate across the rocking waters without much trouble. Her canoe was made of a log, hollowed and shaped accordingly, from a great trunk. The wind caused her sight a bit of trouble, but she was thankful as her short hair was tousled instead of whipping across her mouth and eyes. Her brawny arms bore scars and her pelt tunic was dirty, but her face was grinning as shore approached. Tying her vessel to the closest tree to shore, she trudged up the sandy hill with boots adapted for a thicket and untamed brush. At long last, her eyes spotted a road and a sign that pointed in three directions.
If only she could read!

The cats lapped their milk with a purr as the woman continued to sing the next verse.
"He who lays awake in the night!
She who cries out alone!
His eyes cold like fire,
Her heart burns like an undancing flame~!"

She exited the caravan and pat the horses head a bit before hitching them to their posts. The carriage was nearly prepared for travel; she felt the laundry, which was still damp.
" She cries into the night,
He waits on the sunrise,
They're to meet
Just not yet-
They are to meet
In due time~!"

She sat and withdrew her lute from against the stump that she was now perched upon. Tuning the instrument, she continued to sing.
"Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset
He's excited to lay and hear her heart beating-
Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset
She's thrilled to exist by his quiet breathing~!"

They who own the night
In due time
Will love forever more~!"
A string broke and snapped against her cheek.
"Ow- damn it!"

The man in the coat stood beside the road, although he had since removed his hat and mask. Black hair was soon victim to rain, although in due time a horse-drawn carriage seized to a halt before him.
"Need a ride?" asked the driver.
"Please!" said the figure, who crawled humbly beside the coachman.
"You going up towards Galara?"
"Hardly, and neither are you."
"Really? I could have sworn we were going Nor-"
"The Penumbra has been cast upon thee."
"Wh-" Without another word, the man in the coat stabbed the coachman, better known as Hartman Grave, in the jugular. Leaping from the convoy, the Penumbra rolled and tumbled a bit before standing and dusting himself off, replacing his mask, and fetching his hat.
He returned to the rock in the hillside, although by now it was practically noon. He took out a feather pen, ink vial, and a fresh strip of paper. Scribing a note, he left and descended into Zastera.
Ms. White – 2 silver

The muscular woman timidly shuffled into the northern part of Zastera, around the same time that the singing woman was riding her caravan through the East gate. The man in the black coat had since vanished from the heat of the day, and they weren't the only ones to stir or sleep today. This city was not only harbouring the King, but a fresh destiny for five unsuspecting people who would be tied together by fate and embark on a journey together.