The moon was slowly climbing its way up the sky, the pale orb radiating a soft, white light. The Morcrest castle stood against the backdrop of ebony in all of its glory; its fancy spires reached up toward the great expanse of black, and the garden's torches were the only thing that provided light in the darkness. Several people lingered around the courtyard's shrubbery, enjoying the cool air against their skin. The smell of food wafted through the hallways and into the courtyard itself. Many of the people stopped their chattering and entered the castle's halls, heading toward the feasting hall. Zuria was one of the castle's visitors whose mouth watered at the smell of food. She hadn't eaten a proper meal in ages; the Exalted Wardens only ate what nature provided them on their travels. They had only been roaming back and forth, striking down the rogues that lurked on the sides of supposedly peaceful roads. The nuts that they gathered and ate were bland and tasteless, making one thirsty. But now, they were going to eat a hefty amount of quality meat, salad, soups, and desserts. She felt as if she was going to gain a few pounds after she ate... but she was going to burn it all away, anyway. After this, they probably were going to eat something that wouldn't even come close to the taste of the food they were about to eat. The blonde-haired woman stepped inside the banquet hall, her eyes resting on the spread of food that rested in front of them. Zuria noticed that many of the Wardens beat her to the food, much to her surprise. One of them was a Wildling with large, powerful wings. Her appetite was probably just as powerful; she was tearing into a turkey as she clumsily handled her fork. She smiled as she took a step deeper into the room. "It smells good, doesn't it?" Zuria looked to see Stroud standing beside her, his serious expression firmly set on his face like always. "Sure does," she agreed, her voice loud and robust. "I can't wait to stuff my face full of the roast pig!" The woman giggled and scampered away to grab a seat closest to the pork. Stroud sighed, shaking his head. He randomly chose a place to sit down and began to cut into a smaller turkey than the avian Wildling was tearing into.