That time of year and the hunter had set himself up a tent on the outskirts of one of the villages that he was journeying through.
It was a simply constructed thing, somewhere between a yurt and wood cabin in design - round and made from hide stretched over a skeleton of wood, with thinner branches with foliage then built up and interwoven to provide an additional insulating layer. Near to the entrance was a rack from which cleaned, sun-bleached bones hung, ready to be repurposed. To the other side was a pile of logs, roughly hewn, and a stump with signs of an axe on it - evidently where they were getting their fuel from.
The door to the home was painted black. Candles were set securely in two stone scones to either side, roughly made, deep enough to shelter the flame from all but the most stubborn of winds and rain. The scent of woodsmoke carried from the smoke drifting out of the hut's chimney. To show his appreciation for the season, ribbons of orange and black had been tied to the posts keeping up his porch, sheltering any who stood in the doorway, and a freshly carved turnip with a hideously grinning face sat to one side of the steps.
It was a simply constructed thing, somewhere between a yurt and wood cabin in design - round and made from hide stretched over a skeleton of wood, with thinner branches with foliage then built up and interwoven to provide an additional insulating layer. Near to the entrance was a rack from which cleaned, sun-bleached bones hung, ready to be repurposed. To the other side was a pile of logs, roughly hewn, and a stump with signs of an axe on it - evidently where they were getting their fuel from.
The door to the home was painted black. Candles were set securely in two stone scones to either side, roughly made, deep enough to shelter the flame from all but the most stubborn of winds and rain. The scent of woodsmoke carried from the smoke drifting out of the hut's chimney. To show his appreciation for the season, ribbons of orange and black had been tied to the posts keeping up his porch, sheltering any who stood in the doorway, and a freshly carved turnip with a hideously grinning face sat to one side of the steps.
"Greetings, fair harvest! I am called Ashuro." Ashuro called. "How are you? Have any spare food for a traveler? I have bread and tea if you have meat or broth."
Ashuro bowed daintily, having weapons and knowledge of fighting enough to be careful but open in their speech.
"I like your turnip. That's some lovely stuff you've got here, cold weather means it's time to get ready for winter, huh? Yeah, it's surely a little chillier now than it was recently."
Ashuro bowed daintily, having weapons and knowledge of fighting enough to be careful but open in their speech.
"I like your turnip. That's some lovely stuff you've got here, cold weather means it's time to get ready for winter, huh? Yeah, it's surely a little chillier now than it was recently."
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