AMIA ARCHIVE • View topic

The maiden named Allia has recently returned to the Dale after months spent back at home.
She has taken up her old craft again; the growth of papyrus and cotton. However since this very day she can be seen growing flowers, persistent in her efforts to coax as many to sprout and grow.

Tristen would have been seen rushing to Bendir Dale, accompanied by a winged man and a ranger carrying flaming weapons. All three were heavily warded at the time. After a cursory examination of the situation, the body of Dicey was revived. Tristen then made a patrol of the Dale's lands, and returned to find Dicey had left for more research on the attack, supposedly by two mages.

Later in the day, another attack, a woman with a crossbow and an elf, accompanied by a mage who tried to stay invisible. This left Dicey and Tristen as well as the Mayor lying in pools of their own blood. A manhunt, following soon after proved fruitless as well. The resident, Allia was protected by a human, by the name of Faith, and escorted into the Dale's walls.

Still later in the day, a bruised and slightly limping Tristen made his way to the Dale to check on Rosary and Dicey, finding them just fine. Finally, he left in the company of a lovely elf in white to Wiltun.

Early in the morning, while most of the Dale's citizens were fast asleep before the dawn, a rather corpulent black-scaled Kobold made his way up the hill. The heavyset reptilian thumbed up and found an unsuspecting Gnome looking out over the water.

The cry of death came too quickly for the Bendir Dale militia to react in time; as the militiaman ran after him, the black-scaled and winged assailant took off into the sky- seemingly towards the Quagmire caves.

A report is sent swiftly to Mayor Rosary, with their obvious suspicious of the well known Vuthamolik Blackhide.

~~~

The report is redacted later that day, due to an investigation lead by Fendell and Kurchin. The assailant was in fact not Vuthamolik, but a creature very similar in appearance. The village and guardsmen are put on high alert, with the reported threat of a hostile dragon with shifting or mimicking abilities roaming the isle.

Recently in the past few days Rosary has rarely been spotted outside. Those who have visited her, or learned through rumor, will know that she's inside snuggling under layers of blankets, recovering from a common but mean fever. A note has been left by her office which says to write to her if needed or otherwise talk to Sullivan instead. Nevertheless the ill pink hin, dressed in thick layers of cotton and a silly bear cap, would sometimes make the effort to check for updates in the town hall before rigidly making her way back home.

A delivery for "The Empress" is left with a guard by a drow male dressed in blue wearing an exquisitely crafted amulet depicting a silhouette of a female figure in a dance move while holding a hand and a half sword. No doubt the guards would recognize Rith'tar from his previous visits.

The bouquet is of morning glories, rose lilies, feverfew and rare underdark orchids. It seems the collection might be used as curatives as well as decoration.

--Aaric can usually be seen either helping out Wilfire with the construction process or standing about on guard a bit dirtier than normal.

--Nick is seen less and less these days as if busy elsewhere doing god knows what.

--Tomas Twinkney might be seen hanging around with Muck scribbling away in a rather large book.

The storm raged on one of the recent nights in Bendir Dale, most were huddled inside by the fire. An exception was made for Sullivan, instead choosing to spend the storm silently praying in front of the statue of Yondalla. Hours went by until the hin finally stirred from his spot, until finally seen drawing his crossbow and heading into the orc territory in the north.

Night turned into day, and finally Sullivan returned to the village. Covered in blood, he quietly retreated to his abode. Should anyone travel the territory in the morning would find the area strewn with bodies, each orc having a bolt driven through their head.

No one was spared.

For anyone looking for Caron, that annoying and springy bard, he was often caught up in the Hin Inn writing or composing or seeming to have a look of concentration on his face... As if he were sucking the world in through a thin straw. What a crazy cat. Anyways, he'd likely respond to anything written and seemed to leave notes for a certain Drusus about on occasion- and some folded kisses- but otherwise, he was out and about far less.

Rania would be seen a little less in Bendir Dale, though returning most nights to her home there. While not as talkative as usual, she does seem to have gained some sense of inner peace. She pointedly avoids the inn, preferring to spend whatever time she is in the Dale seated at water's edge, playing her harp and lost deep in contemplation. Whatever it is she is thinking about always seems to make her eyes sparkle and brings a tender, almost shy smile to her lips.

A cart laden with Royal cargo stopped in the Dale lands yesterday morning, flanked on all sides by armed guards and companions. The Lady of Wiltun stepped down from the cart accompanied by Bendir's hin mayor. - The group visited the Bendir Dale settlement, taking a tour of the grounds and of most particular note the school, sampling a number of hot rolls, fresh vegetables and even being promised a freshly baked blackberry pie for desert that night.

After a successful tour, the group took the path North into the depths of the Amian Forest. It was much later into the night before Lord Avadon and Lady Oilanna returned to the Dale to retire in the Inn for the evening. Some time was spent with the patrons of the inn, eating dinner, enjoying drinks (and most especially the pie) before turning in for the night.

A towering half orc steps into the Dale, taking in the sights. As he moves through the Dale, he stops to have a long conversation with the followers of Tempus that have gathered on the Dale's northern edge. Upon finishing this conversation, the half-orc moves on. His destination and intent are both unknown, but murmurs among the older residents of the Dale begin to flow. For reasons only known to him, Crunch Stormbeard has returned to Amia.

One thing is certain. The aging Tempuran looks pissed.

The figures of Jovianne and Matthew of Valendale would dismount from carts in the rain, the priestess' body language tense and slow. They cast seeing prayers and pull their hoods low against the rain while walking over the bridge. Jovianne watches the stretch of trees bordering the right side of the road before they both stop.

There is another, hooded, figure in dark clothing standing in the middle of the road. The priestess keeps her distance while Matthew walks up to the skinny stranger of elven height. Words are spoken but none exchanged. The stranger stays silent, his head turning in the priestess' direction. Finally he points a finger at her before disappearing into creeping black smoke. Jovianne's confident stance crumbles, her shoulders near tears, as Matthew pulls her into a portal.

Unannounced and with little attention drawn, a passing cart is rented by a knight and a lady in traveling garb. - The cart heads north, through forest and through the river valley until it reaches the intended destination.

The top floor, having been rented for the duration of their stay, was paid for at the bar, with a sizeable gratuity for the service and hospitality that the hin-folk provided during their visit.

A house, or a home, as it may be, sits nestled in the rolling hills of northwestern Bendir Dale. This home though, has no cute little round door, but is cute none-the-less, with a cute couple who reside there, who are not so little. They have to bend down a bit, to enter, but they don't mind, they understand the place was not built for people so far away from the ground.

One day though, they both emerge from their humble home, neither wearing their usual armor, but rather wearing comfortable casual clothes, and carrying a few bags, well, the man is carrying the bags, the lovely long haired woman walks at his side. They seem to be packed for travel it seems, but not having so much, that it appears as though they are vacating the premises, which they are not, for the bags are few, and light enough. Some of the bags even have some extra room in them, perhaps for things to be put there, while they are away, but that remains to be seen, upon their re-arrival, to the village they both are citizens of.

The cute couple heads to the Town Hall, where they speak to Cindle, who speaks to a lot of people, since her office is right there, by the front door of the Town Hall, where she works, and speaks to a lot of people. The cute couple, newly wed, inform miss Cindle that they will be gone a few days, and the rent on their cute little home is paid, so upon their return to the Dale, they can unpack their bags, and find something they may have brought back, which may have been in that extra space mentioned before, for miss Cindle.

So, the human man, and woman of exceptionally long and lustrous red hair, depart on a cart, bumping along on little rocks, all the way to the Kohlingen docks, hoping their bags do not get lost. The man, holds the woman's hand, knowing the cart driver likes to put people in the sand, but they make it safe, as best as they can. Arriving at the docks, the cute couple find a ship, and pay their way, getting a small room, for the short stay. The ship it seems, bears a heading far away from the ocean islands, eastward bound, through perilous seas, to mainland shores and sights unseen.

*During one evening's rain, the sound of a guitar can be heard, playing a slow, poignant melody. The sound resonates from a lone figure seated on the bridge leading back to the food trader, and the musician plays with her pale blue eyes remain focused on the ripples the rain drops create upon the pond. After a few moments her voice, light but pensive, at some points almost drowned out by the sounds of the light storm. After she finishes, she sits quietly looking up at the sky, the drops of rain rolling down her cheeks and soaking her completely before she eventually rises and heads off into the forest*

I am the rain
Held in disdain
Lotions and potions just add to my fame
The rime that in spain
Fall on the plain
The truth is I'm ruthless
I can't be contained.

I'm the rain

My friend the wind
To breath he is twinned
Blow high or low high
Tornadoes to spin

My mother the cloud
In widow's black shroud
Gives birth to the earth
Before fields can be plowed

Up in the sky, we've demand to supply
I am necessity, base of the recipe

I'm the rain

My cousin the snow
Lays blankets below
States that her falkes are
The threads to the soul

My rival the sun
Who ripens the plum
Is feared and revered
He gives sight to the gun

Up in the sky, we've demand to supply
I am necessity, base of the recipe

Up in the sky, we've demand to supply
I am necessity, base of the recipe

I am the rain, am the rain

I am the rain, who's held in disdain
The truth is I'm ruthless, I can't be contained...

//Inspiration: Pete Doherty, "I am The Rain"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6NKXl7TGbfc

A strongheart halfling named Wilrich Skybrook is now often found around the Dale when he is not working on his swordsmanship.

*Rosary has a word with any member of the militia she could find. A notice has been put up for residents to see:*
viewtopic.php?f=135&t=83197&p=1359507#p1359507

An unusual sight may have been seen last night, in the Dale. It started out not so unusual, as a human man, quite often seen around the Dale, hops off the cart from Kampo's with the ends of his red sash hanging on air for just a moment. Also not so unusual was the hin who took her leave of the cart as well, another oft seen in Dale lands, with her black hair sporting a purple racing stripe. What 'was' unusual though, was the rising figure of a human woman, blonde in hair, prone in position, and floating on air. Were anyone close enough, they could see that she was fast asleep. The two walkers guide the floating woman to the Hinn Inn, where the man pays Fendel for a room and meals for a day, as the hin woman takes the floater up the stairs and into a room. Very shortly afterwards, the man returns down to Fendel to finish the business, giving Fendel the human woman's name, and he leaves; last seen heading north into the forest. The two females seem to have taken their night in the room.

*Late into the wee morning hours, a familiar face was seen in the inn. The acting Captain of the Guard was seen not in her usual armor but instead in a flowing ball gown of purest cherry red, complete with elbow length black silk gloves. Her ever familiar cherry wood violin was played while she sang the following melody in a fast, jig inducing tempo*

I am a young Ruathymi from Amia
The kilt is my pleasure it’s true
You can call it a skirt, but your lady will flirt
If she has a chance she’ll leave you.

I’m kilted [kilted], kilted [kilted]
With the mystery of what’s under there
I’m kilted [kilted], kilted [kilted]
Kilt inspectors will beg, to know my third leg
Is free as the fresh morning air

I have no red hair, but my skin is quite fair
But it does nothing to show off my pride
But my Ruathymi family tree, I wear on me
And it makes the ladies giggle and sigh

I feel like a man both noble and strong
When I dance my kilt swishes in time.
But I must confess, it’s for the ladies I dress
And undress too. Is that a crime?

So don your kilt my good Ruathymi friends
And let your flag blow and unwind
If they ask what’s beneath, your kilted sheath
Tell them it’s lipstick they’ll find.

After an incident in the forest, just north of the Dale, the ranger Crow is carried into the gates on the back of a rather large bear. The man hangs awake, but lethargic and without energy, and is carried to Jayek the healer for inspection. Whurak the dwarf accompanies them and soon after, the ranger is assisted to a room at the Hinn Inn by Miakoda and Clee. They put Crow on the big bed where he quickly passes out, sleeping soundly through the night

*Rosary helps circulate some news of a last minute party at the Hin Inn*

Poster

Masquerade Ball at Bendir Inn Today

Food, drink, dancing! Bring a costume and enjoy the night away. Prizes to be given out for the best looking costumes! Guests are welcome.

// Starts 2 hours and a bit from now.

*News would have probably spread, that the Mayor and her husband are out travelling so they won't be back until a few days. A note about this would be left at her office desk:*

Quote:

Please leave any urgent letters by Cindle and I'll check them once I return. If in doubt, talk to any official especially if it's trivial!

~Rosary

*Kai hadn't meant to be gone for so long, it was only supposed to be a simple task of finding some misplaced boxes for someone on the coast. She couldn't remember their name, but it didn't matter now. The thing that did matter now was that she was finally back. The heavy rain felt like a cleansing shower, the heavy shackles around her wrists, neck and ankles slowed her movements as she finally stepped into familiar territory. She was home, but maybe a quick name here on the hill first? With a soft squelch, Kai fell into the mud, the rain still very heavy around her as she took a long moment to regain her strength.*

(Im back for sure now! hope to see you guys soon!

A certain reddish-brown haired woman was seen speaking with locals Meriptah and Crow. Suddenly she whipped out a guitar and began singing a jaunty tune about drinking. After the applause died down, she took a bow, giggled, and smiled to the men. She then excused herself and went to the Hin Inn... presumably for some of that drink she sang about!

A raven can be seen circling the town overhead, and with it a shrill call that echoed throughout the Dale. For now it remains in the sky above, examining those who pass by with a beady black eye.

Caron did not seem to be staying in the Hinn Inn very much these past few weeks! The lack of music or of annoying bard ordering fine glasses of wine downstairs might be noticed by some... and the barkeep would say he went off to do some business in Kohlingen, should anyone be looking for him! And just in time to avoid all the nightmares. Lucky bard.

Approaching from the direction of Amia forest, Rith'tar gave the Bendir Dale guards there a polite nod of greeting. He slows his purposeful stride and hands a folded and wax sealed parchment to the nearest guard. He doesn't say a word as he pivots and departs back into the forest.

The parchment seems to be an arcane spell scroll from the part that can be seen and there is one word written in common in elegant script.

"Empress"

Seen in Bendir now and then is an elderly Lightfoot from Amn, Doro Trill. He's clearly an adventurer, trying to recruit adventuring groups and go into dangerous places, but when unsuccessful he loiters around inside the walls. He speaks way too quickly and seems easily frightened, but otherwise a typical aging hin-turned-adventurer.

Bendir Dale appeared lively the past two days. Festivities had been set up, with signs and magical lights setting the small town aglow. Rosary would have been seen setting up stands of food and drink, attracting as many guests as possible to participate in the activities. After prizes were given out, and the game of 'Capture the Flag' had ended, she could be seen headed towards the inn for some small chit-chat before calling it a long day.

The next day the pink haired Hin could be seen nervously waiting at the inn, adorning a white wedding gown. Accompanied by Whurak, the bride walks down the isle singing her own wedding song. A True Marriage ceremony was conducted by Meriptah. The happy couple, Rosary and Sullivan; exchanged vows, greeted their guests, and threw the bouquet. Pranks were played by the couple, trapping Crow into a wall of cotton candy. It was a happy celebration! Once the town got quieter, the wedded couple slipped away towards the carts to finish their big day.

Theadric seemed to linger around in less sociable areas of the Dale as of late, hanging around and listening to Analee's stories, even sharing his own with her and the younglings that would gather for her tales. Often seen taking trips to the inn to speak with a couple of people before he dissapears for the nights.

Just before dawn, Hazamir would come back to the Dale, looking for Rania or maybe Kathrynn on behalf of Fymor. If asked about it, he would say that Fymor was hurt (but healed again, at least on the outside) and doesn't seem to remember what has happened. He would then, tiredly, leave again.

On occasion, a small camp would appear on the cliffs above Bendir Dale.
It's tents arranged in regimented rows, and to anyone familiar with Chessentan soliders the layout and ditches dug were synonymous with their practices.
Mostly it's three inhabitants kept to themselves, a motley assortment of men.

A skald with a Ruathymi accent and golden hair would often venture toward the coast once per-day. Or, sit about with his lute flashing a smile. - Other times he would be working on a tradesman's anvil and makeshift forge to repair damaged equipment. He seemed a personable, social sort - with the kind of stature and strangely piercing gaze that lent some to muse upon his lineage.

The other human seemed to have a slight Kohlingen accent, and was often in the presence of an ale or a weapon. He seemed to know a strange preponderance of Cormyran drinking songs, and Waterdhavian limericks. When preparing for a fight however, the man was stoic and silent. A halberd never far from his hands, and a longbow hung from his back with a stocked quiver.

The half-orc, Grishnak would be seen often enough the Dale's central location on the Island lent itself well to him meeting and discussing potential work. After one such productive afternoon and the sight of the men marching out of town, the Half-Orc would be seen packing up the canvas and tents.
It seemed the camp would be moving for a while, as the band of mercenaries prepared to head North.

Crow would politely inform the group at the camp, to keep their weapons stowed away while on Bendir Dale lands, and not to dig ditches. He would show his Bendir Militia badge, and direct them to Mayor Rosary for any further concerns.

While a certain bard seemed to have disappeared.. there were familiar songs that played some nights and lifted upon the winds into the settlement, when most were fast asleep. Songs that lifted the spirits and spoke of nature's beauty and conjured images of a fair lake and a beautiful woman of red hair. Perhaps they were to battle the nightmares that haunted some folks, perhaps they were only there because whoever played them needed to.

Still, Caron never stopped through the town itself. If someone came looking for the music, they found empty shadows underneath the trees outside the walls, even if they knew what they were looking for.

On one of her far less frequent nights of insomnia, the bardess can be seen sitting on top of the hill within the gates of Bendir Dale. There in the moonlight she listens to the haunting songs of the bard, always alone. At times she can be seen to close her eyes and smile, though it is a bittersweet smile, one filled with both nostalgia and remorse though always with an underlying sense of fondness, though for the songs or for the bard himself is unclear. She never speaks, though from time to time her lips move soundlessly, mouthing words that perhaps accompany one specific song. At the end of the night's performance she simply rises and returns to her home, never searching for the performer.

Fymor was notably absent from the Dale this day, his usual wanderings through the town unseen.

The rather beragged form of Fymor stumbled to the roadside, caked in mud and day old blood. Pausing to rest and listen to the local talk he eventually wandered into the Dale itself. Today his general mood could be described as "in a bad place." A stranger brought him a cup of tea to settle his mind some. As the roadside emptied, he returned the cup to the inn and went home for some quite time alone.

*Dicey could be seen wandering the borders of the Dale, checking up on the militia, overseeing various tasks and often making several wooden signs. Every so often he stops to stand guard around the carts, blade and shield out at the ready, giving a few nods to passing travelers. Those that would approach the hin Captain would notice a unusual breeze focused about him, even if the weather that day was calm.

Those who frequent the dale, milita, residents will find the shadows are not as vacant as they would appear, a corner of the eye shift of movement as a small scaly individual making it's silent shadoy way in the shadows at night, along the boarders of the dale, down the roads, they would all find the glimse of a foot and a half tall little kobold, darting about, bow in it's hand, darting between shadows in a silent, ever watching gaze as it seemed to protectively stare out over the daleland roads and boarders, commonly seen against a cliff scanning bendir's doors and carts, behind a tree, barely made out in shadows. or even atop a cliff for a birds eye view. A Wolf sometimes at the small black-scaled kobold's side or trailing far behind giving an extra pair of eyes to surrounds behind. Neither were giving the impression of a threatening presence, just merely keeping to themselves, or out of sight to most, overseeing people as they passed through the dale. One thing could be assumed and seemed clear..

The Dale has gained a silent protector..

The grinning face of a particularly cheerful man greets the local folk on his usual roundabouts. He took a lot of time to reflect on recent happenings, looking over the water, leaning on available fences, even visiting nearly every shop in the Dale. Eventually he tired and climbed atop Rania's home and fell asleep. Unless otherwise perturbed or told to move off, he remained there for the night.

Rania, returning from her late night excursion, would stop and shake her head at the sleeping figure on her roof. She would disappear into the home for a brief moment, then return with a blanket which she'd toss over the slumbering figure. A faint "Spike, you goof. What a place to doze off at." might be heard before she slipped back inside, not to be seen again until dawn had arrived.

A note would be left on top of the sleeping man, scrawled upon it:

"Last I heard, we did not take resident tallers outside of the inn unless fully permitted. Please do not sleep on our land with out paying for a room. Sleep tight mr!
Ps. If you need help getting on your feet and your position is not one of choice, please come speak to me.
Theadric Shortwick"

Beside him would also be a bottle of water, fifty gold, and a freshly made sandwich wrapped up in a small cloth.

An unfamiliar gnome can be seen about the Dale over the last few days, having taken up residence in the Hinn Inn. He seems skittish at best, and tends to keep to himself without speaking much of a word to anyone. He dresses in simple fare, but sports a thick red head of hair and a ridiculously long red mustache to match. He is rarely seen during the day light hours but spends to late evenings and early mornings watching the bands of adventurers and the likes who loiter about the cross roads with some interest.

In the morning of the Feast of the Moon, Rico heads to the town hall to dig up his family tree. He unravels the scroll he finds and examines the names before him. Dipping his quill in red ink, he puts red marks next to the names he will honour at the evening's ceremony.

Rosary could be seen around the graveyard learning more about the ancestors of some of the residents who have also gathered there. Although the Mayor doesn't have a marker or tomb to tidy, she'd gladly help those about with re-consecrating the gravesite and any other handy work. Her mood wasn't too dour neither too cheerful, as it was a celebration of those Hin who have gone on to the Greenfields.

After his near escape from entanglement in a conjured wall of a bright pink substance referred to as 'cotten candy' by the locals. The red mustached gnome, decides that the frighteningly beautiful sorceress of a mayor may be good in her intentions not to enslave him, when she invited him to join the Dale community. His suspicions still remained somewhat, but lessened after finding no ill effects after being forced to consume some of the sickly sweet pink substance.

As the hin assembled for their weekly meeting in the Town Hall, those residents left outside may have heard the occasional roar, and cheer from the cliffs. The strumming of a lute, and the tales of a bard were punctuated by the occasional booming laughter of a half-orc and human. A revel was being had, though all that joined had to surrender their weapons to the Dale Guard, or a barrel provided by Grishnak before joining.

The Company of the Griffon camp, as advised by Dicey Quickshanks, was left open to all residents of the Dale, as the men revelled. Though their last victory has seemed minor by comparison to others, it was the latest in a long run of successes.
Rising to his feet, with a tankard in hand each man of the Company lifted his glass to his patron and said a few words.
Yornsson cheerfully called on Valkur, the first time his lute was silent that evening. Speaking of their long journey to Amia, the skald's tale was filled with the license of a bard! Though he finished upon a sobering note, that their good fortune had been found in the fair company of the Dale on many a dark night.
When Grishnak rose to his feet, and called upon the Griffon aspect of Uthgar a few onlookers seemed wary. Though he was not done.

"Fellows! Company!" He boomed, mead leading on his words. "... Make merry this night." His lumbering, ponderous tone by now familiar to many hin. Scarlet eyes, never ceased to be ominous in the flickering light of a fire. Though he offered a tusked grin, crooked that it was. "Thanks to Lief Yornsson, and his silver tongue.." Lifting his cup, with a chuckle. "... The Company of the Griffon is honoured to announce we are beginning talks with the Order of the Flaming Blade! With that in mind, tonight we drink to Tempus - for offering brave warriors, adventurers and the defenders of settlements his eye. Drink, eat and be merry. The future is uncertain. It is in the -now- that we live." He grasped a pitcher, filling his glass. Lofting it high once more. "To the Battle Father-!"

The celebrations continued until midnight, as not to disturb the settlement further. Though the Company and those that wished to remain in the camp, drank and talked until the keg was dry and the food gone.
It had been a lighthearted affair, and the mood remained good. Any talk of insult or threat was brokered like any Tempuran, or warrior. If men and women came to blows, amid the chuckles and cheers of others - they were pushed into a circle, and made to wrestle until there was a victor!
In the morning, blurry eyed and hung over, the men started to pack away the signs of the celebration.

Perhaps the occasional staggering hin returning from the camp, baring the scent of fire smoke and mead.

The one known as Obsidian is seen around Bendir's Dale more often these days. Usually he sits in the higher grounds of the nearby hill, with a campfire by his side and a book in his hands. If approached he's not shy of a conversation, as long as it holds a certain level of quality.

Rugnar can be seen running between Cave in Bendirs, Inn and cart drivers. He's preparing a decent amount of stones and wooden logs, same as preparing a drawings and maths for new pillars in long abandoned cave.

Rosary could be seen putting up a sign just up the hill, above the cave. It says:

Warning! For your own safety and the cave's stability, please do enter the cavern or stand above the ceiling.
Rosary Doodlekins.

She would order the militia guards stationed around the residential area to keep a vigilant eye out for anyone passing that area, or to anyone that tried to approach the cave. Every now and again the young Mayor would check on the construction sight to see if Rugnar was around and needed anything. Otherwise she's likely to be found sitting at her desk, procrastinating at times, or enjoying the evening outside.

[IC] Life Happenings in Bendir Dale

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