Impractical provisions

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    James Mattia
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    The icy winds howled through the trees as a wagon rolled into the now desolate trade district. An old troll lumbered out while letting out a low grumbled grunt of gratitude to the driver. At a sloths pace three crates were taken off the wagon, one of them being already encrusted with frost. Furs and alchemical contraptions of sorts were being set up in the area as well as a familiar wooden sign. “Longhorn Post”

    “Kenrei steak! Moon chicken! Spicy apple bisque! Potions! Come one come all! Cindrax yelled sporting a toothy grin following with the laugh.

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