Hroddr coughed from the everpresent smoke that shrouded the Grateful Dead Marshes, and took a moment to survey the miserable surroundings.
Willow tree branches hanging low with rotton fruit which the avian inhabitants seemed to take great pleasure in getting drunk off.
Razor sharp briarpatches concealing unspoiled fruit of every variety.
Exotic flowers that vibrantly shimmer in the omnipresent fog and cause mortals to momentarily enter the realm of chaos with a whiff of their fragrance.
And always, Always, the low melodic dronings of a jam band echoing through the sickly sweet smell of smoke off the distant pipeweed bonfires.
Coughing slightly, Zaki loosened his beard clamps, "I can see why the warriors covet this place. To claim it unjustly seems *cough* rude."
"You Two," he stated indescriminatly as his bodyguard looked puzzled amongst themselves. "Get that ale recipe from those birds, and see if we can't start constructing a... You know... One of those beermaking things with a little birdhouse on top."
"The rest of you bring me my thinking ale... I have a feeling this will be a Very insightful night."
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