Before the Smoke and Fire (Abadius 10th, 4708)

Halfling teenagers were nothing if not exactly like all teenagers of any civilized sort of folk, thought the mother of a halfing, who -as it turned out- was nothing if not exactly like all mothers of teenagers. The middle aged woman carried a basket of dirty clothes, gathered from various places in the house like the floor, the wash room, the kitchen, and even the top of a cabinet, which made no sense at all. She was disheveled from not bothering to tidy herself up as she did chores. A life of few luxuries gave her many wrinkles and grey hairs and being a halfling gave her the smile to endure it all with a practical optimism. "Landsakes, Mara. The sun will have crowned the sky by the time you get out of bed," she said in a volume a bit loud for just after dawn. "If you don't get up and give me a hand, I'll through you in the wash with the colors, and I wash the colors in cold  water." Pleased with her threat, she gathered a few clothes from this room as well. Why did Mara have so many clothes all over the place? Teenagers. The thought elicited a snort of matriarchal derision and a correction. Female teenagers.

Mara groaned. Cracking her eyes open, there was barely any light to see by. Muttering several things probably sacrilegious and best kept to oneself, she pulled the blanket over her head. Karin would of course be out of bed already. She acted so adult and responsible even though she was only 3 years older than Mara. "It's not even light yet..." she called out meekly, knowing that simple facts didn't matter when confronted by her mother's will. Groaning again, she sat up in her bed and wrapped the blanket around herself. Squinting blearily and looking around, she saw she'd been right. Karin was nowhere to be seen. Damn her for making Mara look so lazy. It wasn't her fault that she couldn't, or more realistically, didn't sleep as early as she should've. "Alright, alright, I'm getting up." Heavily placing her feet down on the ground, Mara heaved a huge sigh to make sure anyone could hear would know how massive of a burden it was to get out of bed so early.

A stuffed dragon toy, once green and not a muddy shade from years of abuse was thrown at Mara. "You'll catch you death in a plague with that old thing. You should let me give it a wash." Her mother said already leaving the room. "And head to the market before the good eggs is gone, Mara. I'm making my famous winter casserole!" Because all mothers, especially mothers from Magnimar, a region well known for unnecessary competition, had "famous" food dishes. Of course some "famous" dishes were "infamous" and no one had the heart or the patience to tell the cook. Other dishes, like "Winter Casserole" were so mediocre that if the adjective "famous" were not added, it would not be worth remembering.

Mara flinched violently away from the filthy dragon. Rolling her eyes at her mother, she picked up the little toy dragon. Holding it up in front of her face she spoke to it, since it listened to her about as much as anybody else in this house. "Well I'll be, the Famous Winter Casserole Mister Dragon! Now I really want to get up for the day! With so much to look forward to, who wouldn't?" Sighing again, she put the disgusting toy on top of the wardrobe as she got changed to go out.  "Maybe catching a plague from you wouldn't be so bad. At least then I wouldn't have to endure that... food? Whatever it is, I wish she would stop making it. Ugh." Sufficiently bundled up against the cold, Mara headed out to the kitchen to grab a basket to bring back produce in. Seeing her mother chopping away at something ominously green, she shuddered and asked, "Why can't Karin be doing this? She's already up isn't she? I thought you wanted someone to get there early after all." Mara hunched her shoulders grumpily and moved towards the door.

Laurian rolled her eyes, and action that even if not seen, could be sensed in the almost inperceptible pause in her chopping. "Your sister," she began in a certain tone that suggested a lack of sympathy to Mara's plight, "is helping your father down at the Carpenter's Guild. You know she's got a way with them legal words and the way she yammers on at them sirs has them slipping around her fingers." Laurian smiled as she turned to Mara. "Your father needs good work, Mara. You should be happy your sister is taking the time to go be in-between in a business way." Moments before the finger wagged, the air changed in a way that bespoke a certain motherly oppression. "We all have your duty, missy. And yours is helping me and hers is helping your pa." The wag continued. "Why when I was your age, I was elated to help my mother around the house and what a nice house we Seedharrows keep." The wag finished and the air about the house returned to normal levels, unharrassed by something as common as mother's being right.

Mara mouthed a few words in a cruel pantomime of her mother before turning back. "I might be more elated to help out around the house if we were to do so at a reasonable hour... Yes, yes, I get it, I'm to help you and like it. I don't see why I can't be a carpenter though. I could be good at it, and you wouldn't even know because I've never been given a chance! No, instead, I gotta get the eggs." She harrumph's loudly and heads for the door again, attempting to make it out before her mother has a chance to retort. She knew she was going to catch a scolding bad enough to shame Asmodeus himself for her behavior, but sometimes she just couldn't contain herself.

Winter was not a time of too much activity. May holidays had passed though Long Night was coming in a few weeks and there would be a chance for more revels. Recently, the market was a more bare than the same time last year, the recent murders having a foul effect on the economy and then there were the goblins that had moved into town. The old Glassworks still bellowed pillars of smoke into the sky though now the workers were small and green. She had heard her father's friends commenting, sometimes arguing in great bellows of dissent heard from outdoors or up in her room, about how goblins murdered to old workers and "took over as their own" the old Glassworks. There was never much need to go near the Glassworks but still even passing the Garrison she would see the small green guards training fiercely with the humans in armor. One was always training Ollie Armstrong, the two having fair time posing and tossing big bricks around. Still... She could remember the Sandpoint Festival and the goblin attacks...