old folk

The hunter looked out at the orc stronghold city of Bhathairk. Since Zeri had left on her journey to find her sister without him, he had kept to a routine. Hunt and fish and forage in the surrounding area. Smoke, tan, and dry what he got. Sell what he didn't need for coin. A cycle repeated over...

Life was a never ending cycle of seasons. It was an obvious thing for those close to nature. The Old Folk knew it. The settlers knew it. The birds knew it. One always found their way back to the place they began if not literally then metaphorically. It was impossible to escape the place of one's...