Encampment

[Anne]

MAGIC!!

Magic was behind all that happened. Magic and a stinking elf! Driven from their homes by the undead army of Avanthar, driven from their homes by the over use of magic by those who had come to their aid. Those who had not already fled the city were now living in a rough and ready tent city near the church. Women kept up with the every day chores of cooking, cleaning and tending the children whilst the men sat around and argued or talked of finding a safer haven. The children were oblivious to the woe's of their parents as they played amongst the headstones in the cemetary.

Those of the Veldar who were still within the city kept watch for any of the looters who attempted to take what little was left after the looting by the receding army of the enemy.

Obsidian Thunderbush stood watch with his battle axe held firm across his back by a leather strap ready for use if the need arose. In addition to protecting the encampment, Obsidian kept a lookout for returning citizens and newcomers as well. His thoughts were on the future and where they were all going to move from here. Magic hung in the air like sulphur from a volcano. This might have been their home but magic had taken it from them.