Timestamp: 73rd of Spring 510 AV.
Illumination of twilight cast the sky into a symphony of red, purples and blues. Contrasting to the end of day to the coming of night. The horizon elongated beyond the mountains, spanning out to present Mizahar in all it's glory. One end of the spectrum presented the sun, it's last dying rays captivating the string of clouds and turning them into hues of makeshift vibrance. On the other held the magnificent moon. Stars sprinkled in the darker and much vaster sky, revealing galaxies and glittering heavenly pastures only the god's could taste.
Hung below the skies were the lands of the world. Though the hill where the view presented itself was not too high, you could still make out the figments of forests, cliff-faces and mountains looming in the distance. Sounds of creatures unseen filled the air, welcoming the change of day and time. Crickets chirped in their burrows, birds sung their last evening song and the faint cries and moans of beasts echoed in the distance.
The wagon had stopped at a scenic location, ironically. Allowing those aboard the caravan a wonderous spectacle to view while repairs were allocated like chores. Unlike the other wagon which was still attached and in good form, the one carrying the travellers had come undone. Creaking had been heard as they travelled up the hill, the horse drawn wagon tiltering and groaning complaintfully just before the wheel on the right side broke, sending the entire caravan to lean and come to a thumping stop.
Fine trees overhung the elevated road, spanning over on both sides to offer some cover from the assaulting winds. Their needle-like leaves bristled gently in the breeze, rustling and turning coal in tone as the darkness descended. On the left side of the dirt road was a small overhang of basalt rock, patched in lichen, fungi and moss of all species. One of the horses had taken a liking to the odd delicacy, it's teeth grazing over one of the stones that were covered in the exotic delight. Disgruntled, the holder of the reins flicked the leather straps, hoping to prevent his prized mount from harvesting any more of the foul material.
A travelling worksman inspected the point of damage to the wagon, fragments of the former wheel having been collected and stacked into a neat pile nearby. His warm ash coloured eyes hardened in the dying light, lips twisting as he struggled to see. " Oi! Can someone ge' me a lantern 'ere!? I can't see a bloody thing! " He shouted over his shoulder at the small clsuter of people huddling around the two caravans. Most of the folk were travellers destined to arrive in the same city; Alvadas. Others were the jack and jills of all trades. Though, only the worksman seemed to be of any use in this situation. The crowd consisted of around eleven people, excluding the drivers. They were all human except for a lonely inarta male who stood off from the group to survey the sunset.
Men stood around in coats sewn from dyed cloth, the women wearing simple leather breeches or the occassional skirt. One of the women had a pet ferret on her shoulder, stroking it with obsessive composure to settle her own disheaved nerves. A few of the males stood closely to one another, young and without facial hair. Teenagers, ill-equiped to deal with the wilds by judging their quirky sense of fashion and lack of weapons or defenses. A bunch of disarranged persons, not having any connection with eachother and all getting confused and aggitated. Daytime in the forests and territories were dangerous but night was a whole new ball game. Predators roamed and scavenged closer, sounds elevating so that even the simple snap of a twig could signal the approach of death incarnate.
" Someone or a few of you need to get firewood or we are not going to be able to see, and who knows what's out there. " Muttered the driver of the second caravan, his tone bored and void of any real fear, as if he had dealt with broken carriages his entire lifetime. At the mention of gathering, the fashionable teenagers slunk back, hiding behind the rest of the rugged figures to avoid being picked for such a menial but crucial task. The worksman grunted in frustration of not having anyone bring him a light source and so hit his hand upon the side of the wagon in a loud bang, causing the jumpy teenagers to become startled and huddle even closer.
Seemed like tonight was going to be a long one.