Dawn breaks like the weeping of an old wound over the horizon.  Trees and scrub brush come into focus in its pallid light first, then the hulking monstrosities of what were, once, proud manors and homes, left to ruin from a war passed first to history, then to legend.  The specters that kept watch are invisible, now, perceived only in cold patches here and there among the old flagstones and parapets of the ancient structure.<br/><br/>Fen has risen early, taken off to breakfast.  It is an unceremonious affair... boiled oats sweetened faintly with ground cane sugar aside mashed taro root and beans.  You feel that eating heartily is wise.<br/><br/><strong>[please level up your characters.]</strong>