This plane made no sense. Even so many months after they arrived Svalken could not shake the sense of absurdity from this place. The grass was green instead of black. The sky was blue instead of grey.

Occasionally it even rained, or so other creatures called it. Water would fall from above, onto their faces and their clothes. At first Svalken had thought the rain was a wonderous force of nature, however he soon thought otherwise as he and his son and daughter went to travel several miles with their clothes soiled.

Svalken peered out the window frame of the inn they had checked it at to settle down and hide from yet anouther downpour. His short black hair was soaked and water dripped from the edges of his slender faces and long pointed ears. His clothes were dripping from the rain, onto the wooden floor of the room they were staying in. The rain had soaked all the way from his black overcoat to his white undershirt and brown tunic. His black pants didn’t fair much better, as did his now mud-stained shoes.

“Yet another fall of rain. Wonderful. It’s as if whatever gods that look upon this place are seeking to make our lives a living hell.” Serakin spoke as he doft his now drenched coat onto a nearby table. “What does that count? The fifth inn we’d have to stop at solely for the purpose of evading the rain.” He complained. He shook his head, shaking small flecks of water in every direction as his dark hair waved about.

“I find the rain fun. It feels wonderful having the small cold drops falling onto your face.” Najirakin called from behind her brother. Somehow, the long braid that ran from the sides of her head only to hang down the center, hadn’t come undone like the other times. It would seem that this time in particular she made a great attempt to keep it together. Najirakin unclipped the emerald cowl from her shoulder and lay it on the table in front of her brother before sitting on the firm bed and beginning to take off her soaked coat.

“Best not get too comfortable Najirakin, the rain is beginning to lessen.” Svalken called to his daughter without turning from the window.

“We just checked into the room. Do you expect us to tell that small little dwarf at the counter we’ve decided to leave after 5 minutes?” Najirakin asked, unclipping a sheath for a pair of daggers that rested behind her waist; setting them on the bed next to her.

“The ‘small little dwarf’, I don’t think, would feel highly to you soiling the bed with the rain water.” Serakin retorted.

“Enough arguing. I’ve never known two Shadar-Kai who argue more then you two. You’re 130 for the gods sake, I suggest you act like it.” Svalken shouted, now turning from the window to face his children.

Both of the elves glanced toward their father before glancing at eachother, grumbling sonthing under their breath, and continuing what they had been doing without a further word.

Svalken turned back around to see the think grey clouds above the many buildings around the inn. Then he glanced down at the now muddy streets as the downpour lessened ever-so-slightly. They could finally leave this inn and be on their way within the hour.

...***...

The food at the inn wasn’t bad, much better then whatever ‘food’ they’d eaten within the Shadowfel. At the very least, Svalken could admit that that was an upside to this new plane of existence.

Now, Svalken, Serakin, and Najirakin sat in the dining area of the inn. A large room that connected to the exit of the building. Several wooden tables were set out across the floor, each housing four to six wooden chairs that creaked every time someone shifted their weight within it.

“Why not stay here a bit longer?” Serakin asked, taking a sip of his steaming soup. “The last time we stayed somewhere for more then a day was back in Westein. That was a nice place. The men there were nice and Najirakin was only harassed once.” He explained, pointing a thumb to his sister.

Najirakin laughed aloud at the mention of the event. “Oh yes, that was a memerable one. That man left with four less fingers then he started with.” The two siblings laughed, recalling the event. “Oh, then there was that drunken dwarf who’d mistaken us for… what was it he called us?”

“He called us a ‘Drow’.” Serakin said, snapping his fingers as if just recalling the interaction.

“A Drow, that’s it. Then I remember dad punched the little man in the nose.” Najirakin laughed.

“Yes, we understand I hit someone, it’s nothing new.” Svalken grumbled. He was leaning back in his seat, his arms folded across his chest. “And to answer your question, Serakin, no; we aren’t staying here long. Once you finish your meal we are back on the road again.” He explained.

Serakin groaned and leaned his head back. “What’s the point of a new world If not to enjoy it?”

“What’s the point of a new world if not to survive it?” Svalken retorted.

Serakin opened his mouth to reply but no words came out. Instead he just sat back in his seat and continued eating.

“The rain has finally stopped.” Najirakin noted, glancing to the exit of the building; only a small set of swinging doors connected the cold outside to the warm intirior of the building.

“Well then,” Svalken stood up. “We best get moving.”