The Find 7.

Autumn.

The town of Hilsons Point. On the southern edge of The City of Ruins. Early morning.
"This it?" asks Mira Reinholt the mage, who then adds "It looks vaguely familiar".
The once powerful mage briefly pauses before continuing with "It's gotten bigger, that's for sure".
"This is definitely it" says Helbe the elven thief, who follows that with "And yeah, they've expanded a bit haven't they".
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel looks back and says "Look familiar Dorc?".
"Yeah, me fucken think so" says Dorc da Orc, who has been muttering, and complaining about missing out on the rumble last night in the town of Peacesmith.
"Can't fucken 'member where it is" adds the large ork as he and the others look around as they enter the town of Hilsons Point.
Which is the town along the south of the giant hole in the ground, that The City of Ruins is down in.
That's closest to the edge, so much so, that over the last couple of centuries it's been in existence.
Some of the buildings have fallen into the giant hole, where the ground gives way in some places.
As parts of the edge, not just here to the south. But right around the giant hole that's six miles wide at it's widest, and over ten miles in length.
Isn't exactly stable, definitely not stable enough to build on. But all the same, people do.
"I'm pretty sure it's that way" says the elven masterthief as he points to the east.
The grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel, continues with "There's that tavern with the porch right up to the edge of the hole, just a couple of buildings away from it".
Nodding his hooded head, the mage Reinholt says "I remember now".
The spellcaster who is in exile from his homeland, the city-state of Vexil, then adds "We'll met you at that tavern afterwards".
"Will do" says the elven master assassin, who along with Jarjin Littlefoot the hobbit.
Watch the once powerful mage, and the large ork walk way after the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, says "Come along Dorc, let's find that bakery of yours".
The young elven noble who is a member of the royal family, looks to the right and quietly says "Keep an eye on them".
"I will friend Helbe" is the quiet reply from Shur Kee the monk.
Who heads after the Vexilian mage in exile, and the large ork from the southern polar region of the world.
Who has gone back to muttering and complaining about missing that fight last night in the town of Peacesmith.
The elven master archer looks down at the halfling standing beside him.
"Know where it is?" asks Jarjin Littlefoot the hobbit, who like the highly talented elven magic user, as well Mira Reinholt.
Is a member of the personal council to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
"That merchant in Peacesmith gave pretty good directions to that trader's shop here" says the young elven noble who is the grandson of Prince Raendril of Laerel.
The elven master assassin glances at his right shoulder, and after slightly nodding his hooded head, he says to the halfling former air sailor "It's there".
"Good" mutters the hobbit, who isn't exactly what he appears to be.
The halfling, who is originally from the Sultanate of Dreese, which is all the way over on the far east coast of the continent, says "Let's get there".
The hobbit, who is really a hordes outrider from the southern tundra, by the name of Zubutai Timaginson.
Who just happens to find himself inhabiting the body of Jarjin Littlefoot.
Then says to his fellow councilor "Didn't think it got this cold this far north". As he wraps his cloak around himself tighter, and adds "And it's only autumn".
Nodding his hooded head as he sets off, the elven princeling says "It's the winds coming from the south, off not just one mountain range, but two".
For though the Colevar Mountains and the Sunreach Mountains are over three hundred and fifty miles apart.
And The City of Ruins is about two hundred and fifty miles north of the Colevar Mountains, which is the closer of the two giant mountain ranges.
The prevailing weather, and winds come north from those mountains.
Cooling the lands for a few hundred miles north of them, during the autumn, and especially during the winter.
It's the other way round in the spring and summer, where up here in the very north of the central regions of The Southlands, it can get extremely hot and dry.
"Last time we were here, it was the end of summer" says prince Helbenthril Raendril as he leads the way through the town of Hilsons Point.
The highly talented elven magic user continues with "And it was stinking warm then".
As he and the halfling former air sailor turn onto another dirt packed street in the town that's already bustling at this early time in the morning.
The elf who is a member of the personal council to lord Farque, quietly adds "Though not as hot as it was in the desert on the otherside of that portal down in The City of Ruins".
Jarjin aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman nods, then he looks back behind them, in the direction of the giant hole, in which is the ancient city of Dalphene, or The City of Ruins as it's more commonly called.
"Can you see it from here?" quietly asks the hobbit who is a former air sailor in the Sultan of Dreese's fleet.
"Not really" says Helbe the elven thief, who points up and adds "If we were about five hundred feet up we could see it".
The elven master archer continues with "It's about four and half to five miles away" followed by "Near the center, where it's basically a neutral zone where people live like in any other city".
The elven councilor who is the envoy for the armies of Farque, momentarily pauses, before he continues with "Well it was a neutral zone, who knows if it is nowadays".
Jarjin aka Zubutai the son of Timagin nods, then his fellow councilor prince Helbenthril Raendril tells him "Around the corner to the right" followed by "Third shop along".
As they go in search of a trader in ancient maps, here in the town of Hilsons Point.
On what's a cold autumn morning, here in the north of the central regions of The Southlands.
When they get onto the street they're looking for, the two of them immediately spot the shop they're searching for.
"Let's hope they've got what we're looking for" says Jarjin Littlefoot the hobbit.
Helbe the elven thief nods his hooded head in agreement with his fellow councilor. Who he leads into the shop, where the trader who owns in, deals in maps, and other histories of this area of the north, of the central region of The Southlands.
"There's the tavern down there" says Mira Reinholt the mage, who continues with "Looks familiar" followed by "I know where we are now".
Next to the once powerful mage from the city-state of Vexil, the ork warleader grunts.
While following behind the two of them, Shur Kee the monk nods, as he too recognises the tavern that's right up against the edge of the giant hole on the ground. 
"It's a couple of buildings further along the bend, beyond that tavern" says the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster.
Dorc da Orc or Dorkindle, which is his given name. Not that anyone calls him that, with the exception of lord Farque, who on a occasion will call the large ork that.
Frowns as he isn't too sure about it as they approach the rear of the tavern.
As they walk around the back of the tavern, as the front of it is almost right up against the edge of the giant hole in the ground.
The ork weaponsmith grunts as he finally realises that they're in the right place.
As the back of the tavern, and the surrounds are something he's seen before.
As they round the southeast corner of the tavern that's so close to the edge of the giant hole in the ground.
A giant hole, that has within it, the ancient city of Dalphene.
Or The City of Ruins as it's been called for more than fifteen centuries.
The mage Reinholt is in the middle of saying "Should be just around". When he falls silent and comes to a stop.
Beside the exiled Vexilian mage, the big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world comes to a stop and grunts, and draws in a sharp breath, that he hisses out.
Behind the two of them, the short, statured monk steps to one side, and looks around them.
"Oh" says Shur Kee the monk when he sees what the mage Reinholt and the warleader of the ork race are looking at.
There's a few moments of silence, which is broken by Dorc da Orc saying in a baffled tone "The fuck?".
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks then says in a growl "Where the fuck is it?".
"Seems to of gone" says Mira Reinholt, who instantly regrets saying that, and winces when the large ork standing next to him, growls at him.
"Me see that cunt" says the growling ork warleader, who then adds "So where the fuck is Dorc's bakery?".
It's Shur Kee the monk who answers with "That is easy friend Dorc".
The acolyte in the philosophical order of Bru Li points as he adds "With the state of the edge there, it is obvious they have had to of moved".
The angry scowl upon the broad, green, feral looking face of the large ork disappears, and he grunts before he says "Little monkey may be fucken rights".
The ork who is a general in the armies of Farque grunts when the once powerful mage says "We'll just ask someone where it is now".
The spellcaster, who was the youngest ever member of the mage council of Vexil.
Until he was kicked off it, and sent into exile. For betraying his homeland during the Battle of Vexil.
Then says "Even better Dorc, why don't you sniff it out" the highly skilled swordmaster continues with "Sniff around for some cakes and the like".
Then the practitioner of magic, who is a member of the personal council to lord Farque, recalls what the large ork likes the best, and he tells him "Or for some chocolate".
"Oooh Dorc likes choc-o-late" says the warleader of the ork race in a tone of delight.
Then the son of the previous matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks, starts breathing heavily in through his wide nostrils, and tries to sniff out the current location of the bakery he purchased nearly twenty years ago, here in the town of Hilsons Point.
"Hmmm" murmurs the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world as he continues to sniff.
Then the large ork who is a general in the armies of Farque starts to drool, and he points and says "Fucken thataway".
They set off, and the ork weaponsmith says "Dorc smells cakes and breads".
Both Mira Reinholt the mage and Shur Kee the monk nod. As they suspect the bakery Dorkindle has located, is busiest first thing in the morning.
"This the only thing you've got about it?" asks Helbe the elven thief.
"And a map, that i wouldn't call accurate" says the trader who has just opened his shop for the day.
"The one in the book is supposed to me more accurate" adds the shopkeeper pointing at the book on the counter he's got down from one of the shelves.
"They say it was written by some crackpot churchman from down in Eweteets about four hundred and fifty years ago, just after the war" adds the trader, referring to the invasion of The Southlands by the Holy Norstran Empire.
"From what i can tell, I'd say it's the best thing ever when it comes to Gilbanath" says the shopkeeper, who follows that with "Says in there it was a kingdom in these parts for just thirty two years, which most historians have never heard of".
Both the elven masterthief and the halfling former air sailor nod to that.
Then after the young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel quickly goes through some of the pages in the old book, he says "We'll take it" followed by "And that inaccurate map as well".
The elven master assassin pays for them, as he does he asks the shopkeeper "You wouldn't happen to have any magical tomes dealing with time do you?" he then adds "A friend is looking for something about it".
The elven princeling already knows the trader doesn't, as he's read the man's mind.
"No, don't deal with the arcane arts" says the shopkeeper, who then adds "There's a store down in the pit, right next to our town's ramp, where you might find something like that" followed by "Old Marstell sells magical books and scrolls".
"Thanks for that" says prince Helbenthril Raendril, who picks up the book and rolled up map, and along with Jarjin aka Zubutai Timaginson exit the shop.
Out on the dirt packed street, on this cold autumn morning, the hobbit from the far east coast of the continent, quietly asks in the elven language as he gestures at the book his fellow councilor is holding "What do you think?".
"Better than nothing" replies the highly talented elven magic user, who continues with "Best thing about it is that map in the book is quite specific".
The elven princeling briefly pauses before adding "It shows the southern border of that short lived kingdom, cuts through The City of Ruins".
"Meaning we won't have to search through all of it" says Jarjin Littlefoot.
"Exactly" says Helbe the elven thief, who then adds "Come on, let's find the other three and tell them what we've found".
"Maybe Dorc has found that bakery of his" says councilor Littlefoot, who then dryly adds "At least he won't be moaning and bitching about missing out on that fight last night if he's stuffing his gob with cakes and pastries".
The elven masterthief laughs as the two of them set off to find Mira Reinholt the mage, Shur Kee the monk and Dorc da Orc . . . . . .