Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-25828117-20190827204408/@comment-25828117-20190902021418

It had finally come.

The first day of Last Seed, the last proper summer month has begun. From this moment on the days would only get shorter and colder.

Still. Today was a hot day. Most of the sheep populating the open field of weaver's glade seemed content with just lying down in the grass, doing nothing while others drank from the thin stream that zigzagged through by the white stones. Their content bleating mingled with the pleasant sound of faint running water, provided you were close enough.

Surrounding the field were the trees that hid this patch of green from the rest of the world. An ancient evergreen forest from which the soft sound of chirping birds and blowing winds emanated.

In the middle of the glade stood standing stones, perhaps just as ancient as the first sapling of the forest. They shot up in the sky, some about twice the size of a man, others could be mistaken for small white rocks. Once smooth they were now broken and rough. These white stones stood dotted across the glade in what might've been a significant pattern at some point. If it was, the pattern had been long broken with some of the stones fallen over, sunken or simply missing.

The sheep didn't mind through, now grazing around them without a care in the world.

Aside from those woollybacks the place seemed deserted...