appointments

Ole Hannevold watched Stormwind grow in that strange way ports often do when seen from a ship.  After the first sighting and the stir it causes amongst the passengers, the destination barely changes for what feels like hours.  Then, almost as if by magic, it seems to race forward, the distance closing rapidly and detail after detail rushing to press itself on the watcher’s attention.    Ole never tired of the spectacle and never failed to feel a little thrill at the prospect of returning to the world.  What had happened whilst the ship had been at sea?  What was the news?  Everything could have changed – or nothing at all.  It wasn’t finding out that thrilled him, it was those moments of anticipation, those last minutes of seaborne isolation where anything is possible and everything to be imagined.

A young elf thrashes against a wooden floor like a thing gone mad.