Moonbeam wrote:
She’d spent most of the evening watching a group of people play a mysterious game involving strange dice and complicated rules which she didn’t understand. Most of them had been young men, but a few of them had been middle-aged, and their mentor had been a wise-looking old man with long grey hair and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
Kerista had been too shy to approach them and ask to be explained the rules, but she marveled at the imagination that those people displayed: they played imaginary adventures where each of them incarnated the role of one of the heroes, while another player described the ongoing story that they were all taking part in.
At the end of the night, not long before Navan had come back, the old man who seemed to be the creator of this strange, but wonderful game, had left the inn, and Kerista had noticed that a grey hawk had flown down and landed on his shoulder, as the old man vanished into the darkness of the night. A great wave of sadness came upon Kerista, because she felt she’d missed her only opportunity to talk to that wonderful man, a master of imagination.
Very nicely done, sir. I'll leave it at that.
