Worldwalkers
The first thief sighed, picking his way across the barren island. It was the tracker's turn to choose a meeting spot and, as usual, she had chosen the most desolate, gods-forsaken, wind-blasted, middle-of-nowhere, piece-of-shit... The thief spent some time trying to come up with some more, or at least better, descriptors for the barren rock of an island upon which he found himself but decided it was too cold. He didn't know it could get this cold in the undying islands, with a biting, freezing, driving...
He was so focused on trying to come up with some more descriptors for the wind that he full on tripped over one of the ropes holding down the tent he was heading for, though he would later deny this.
The priest was there, sitting serenely (though the thief hadn't ever known them to look anything else in their long history), dressed in hardwearing travel gear. Tracker was also there, though the thief spent a lot less time looking at her (for reasons that remain unacknowledged by them all for now).
The tracker pulled out the deck of cards. It was poker night.
