A coach pulled by a pony slowly rumbles down the snowy road. A Green outpost sign points the way to Farlen. The pony pulls the coach into a farm house off the road. A Breton man, in his early fifties, balding, and starting to paunch, gets out from the coach and closes the gate. The early morning sun illuminates the stable, and the rest of the horses gleam with hunger and bellow in the sight of their human master.
“How ye doing Thunder?”
The Breton man walks up to Thunder, a tall, muscular horse. He grooms the pony’s wavy long black hair and consigns a sugar cube to Thunder. The horse beside Thunder bellows with the feeling of disfavor-ness from his master.
The man chuckles and replies with a smile “You hungry too Elizabeth?”
The man chuckles again and starts to rake up hay into each horse’s stable…
Meanwhile… The tavern dubbed “Rabbits Hole” Is hitting its peak hour. The tavern is filled with bubbling noise, cheers of a bright snowy day, and bards a singing.
An Orc shouts from his table, to impatient to be attended and orders: “Three tankards of mead, and make haste with it lady!”
A young and pretty waitress comes walking around the tables with a silver platter in her right hand, just above her head, and serving drinks with her left. Hearing comments like: “thank you”, being tipped, and the like but this animated time comes to a end when she makes her rounds around a party of Nords sitting in the corner table, to drunk to even speak but they do so as the waitress is a coming to their table. Shouting very rude remarks.
“And what would you kind sirs like today?” She asks, feeling very apprehensive
One of the Nords gives her a boorish kind of look but then says “Yu’re a fin purrty gurl, how its bout you comes home wit me?” But then he passes out and bangs his head on the table, like so. ..
--------------------
As you can see, I would love this to be a submission for the short story section but I'm afraid by the time I'm done with the story, It might become to long!
