It was far, far from the blightlands proper, where Drawa split the land into three. And yet, the land was flat and barren just as much...But it was not quite dead as on first look. Bushes, rare flowers and shrubs. Only bushes rare flowers and shrubs, an expansive heath in bloom as far as one could see. A delight for the wind to caress. Even carrying kestrels which hovered above the ground, looking for tiny prey. A lone fishing village laid it's mark along the solemn coast. Quiet and serene. Yet an important destination for those traveling from Belgrath to Eretejva. The population? Eerily orcish but varied from all the passing travelers who laid an intimate imprint on this village. Even the Inn where Faelin now stood was relatively quiet, the loudness only coming from the open windows where the crashing waves against the many boats and the shrieks of squabbling hulls were heard. Outside on a signpost read: 'Looking for brave soldiers, ask for Raveth at the White Flank and Thread Inn.'