At the foot of the mountain the fort sits on, joined to it by a switchback path. Built out of mud brick and palm logs — local materials, recently raised.
At least fifty redcoats live here. In the early evening the cook fires are going, men are cleaning muskets and playing dice in the doorways.
Overheard here: that a pirate would hang at dawn, from a soldier who was going to bed early because he had been promised the lever. “I love to see them dangle and hear their necks break.”
Visited: Session 1.