(Grr. I had a post all ready for posting, and my clumsy fingers deleted the entire thing. Here's attempt number two.)

The mage removes the cigar from his cloak and holds it carefully in his hands. The group makes their way around to the back of Jack's shop and into the backyard.

The grass in the back grew high... very high. It was so high, in fact, that it reached higher than the knees of even the tallest of the adventurers. Andrew, being the shortest, was reduced to his shoulders as the grass stood as high as his chest.

Far in the back corners of the yard, there could be heard a clicking noise, not unlike the sound of a cricket. The sound came from, primarily, the darkest and tallest of the grass.

The back of the house was not an improvement, either. The drab brown paint was peeling at nearly every other inch and seemed as if it were paling in color as it basked in the Tristanian sun. There was also the makings of what is best defined as a back porch, but stairs could not be found, as they were most likely captured among the shoots of grass. From this porch there was a stack of boxes leaning against the wall of the house in what looked like a uniformed fashion. These boxes also stood out in the sun, and their woody color had also seemed to fade into an almost "off-white" hue.

With cigar in hand, and with the box now on the ground, the mage aimed. "Light!" he exclaimed, however, no flame shot out this time. "Light!", he yelled, "Light! LIGHT!" Still no flame; this cigar was not self-lighting anymore, as it turns out.

"Ok," Baneri sighed, "we're going to have to start a fire otherwise. This WILL be difficult." His last sentence was directed to Tarelth, and as he met the Ranger's gaze, Baneri let a slight grin curl across his lips. "Let's begin."
-The Plumed Knight.-

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