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The Viridale was its usual self. Noises filled the leafy folds of the forest, beasts and birds alike doing their business without much interference from any humanoid walking around. High in the tree tops, the structure known as the Ranger's Rest can be seen if you know what to look for. The oversized tree house was home to ranger and druid alike, spreading along the top of the canopy and connected by the thin wooden bridges that spanned between the trees.
One would have to wonder how exactly Bullseye built the Rest in a matter of weeks, but it has been speculated that he may be fibbing to keep local adventureres on their toes. Regardless, the Rest is an impressive feat of woodworking and architecture that not many outside the Viridale can appreciate. Ropes dangle from the top, perhaps to allow elves or particuarly nimble humans to climb up if they wish for a challenge, and the barkeep from the tavern pours out the dirty water from laundry into the expanse that does not allow one to see the forest floor.
"Lloth's tits!" A curse comes from below the Rest, and a angry, but dry looking Peridan floats up and onto the scaffolding with a small bag over his shoulder and a cigar smoking from the corner of his mouth. He shoots the barkeep who just walked back in a dirty look for almost hitting him with the water, but he manages to restrain himself from going in there and giving out a piece of his mind.
"I suppose I could have just walked up." He grumbles to himself, banishing his flight spell with a flick of the wrist and looking around. He removes the butt of the cigar from his lips and it evaporates in a brief flash of flame.
"Don't want to get the kid sick." He sighs, and shifts the bag over his shoulder. He heads for the inn looking for his friends Osclow and Annie, and to meet Os's little girl. He opens the door, and walks inside.
One would have to wonder how exactly Bullseye built the Rest in a matter of weeks, but it has been speculated that he may be fibbing to keep local adventureres on their toes. Regardless, the Rest is an impressive feat of woodworking and architecture that not many outside the Viridale can appreciate. Ropes dangle from the top, perhaps to allow elves or particuarly nimble humans to climb up if they wish for a challenge, and the barkeep from the tavern pours out the dirty water from laundry into the expanse that does not allow one to see the forest floor.
"Lloth's tits!" A curse comes from below the Rest, and a angry, but dry looking Peridan floats up and onto the scaffolding with a small bag over his shoulder and a cigar smoking from the corner of his mouth. He shoots the barkeep who just walked back in a dirty look for almost hitting him with the water, but he manages to restrain himself from going in there and giving out a piece of his mind.
"I suppose I could have just walked up." He grumbles to himself, banishing his flight spell with a flick of the wrist and looking around. He removes the butt of the cigar from his lips and it evaporates in a brief flash of flame.
"Don't want to get the kid sick." He sighs, and shifts the bag over his shoulder. He heads for the inn looking for his friends Osclow and Annie, and to meet Os's little girl. He opens the door, and walks inside.