General

Fill the tankard and raise the cup, let the mead flow free and sweet, for upon this day we are victors.

General

In the mud lay a glimpse of metal, the grey of tarnished silver - not all the way to black but instead a patina of many shades. Tamsin bent to remove it from the dirt, a cup of sorts with one handle and a hinged lid that defied movement. With the hem of her shirt she rubbed it clean before stowing it in her pack.