Missing it

The wind picks up a little in the dusty empty street in the early morning.  The wind turns a few discarded bits of litter in a gentle cyclone as he rides his horse into the urban canyon.  The clip clopping of the hooves on the cobblestones underlines the emptiness.  The streets are empty.  The people are in the fields toiling before the day gets too hot, or is it some religious holiday.  Which it is needs some investigating.…

The door to the tavern creaked open with his push, the sound of the creak drew the attention of the patrons.  The usual crowd was all here, the field hands and tradesmen had all arrived almost an hour ago.  Spending four motes of personal essence to power a Presence excellency, he tosses a small pouch of silver onto the bar, the chinking of silver coin spills over through the opening.  "Innkeeper, a room for me for the night, a meal and drinks for your patrons…"

The wind through the trees rustled the leaves of the stand of oak that the archer stood under.  The underside of the leaves was exposed to the sun, a lighter green.  He approaching army was clear to see from this point, but the archer knew that unless they were looking for her, they would not see her, even though her clothing was quite bright.  She drew the arrow back waiting for the wind to subside, the wind pushed the meadow grasses down before the marching men.  Loose.  She spent ten motes of personal Essence so that the arrows multiplied in number to make her single shot to appear to be an ambush by a hundred trained men.  The arrows sliced flesh and bled men.  They raised shields and sighted her frame against the trees…

I want to roleplay.  It has been so long, since the summer, the early summer, before I moved into the burbs.  I have run my games for all that time, weekly and bi-weekly.  But it is not enough.  I want more.