Glen - Elsewhere

The focus of our group of idiots changes from a flooding desert, to a forest on the neighboring continent.
Atop a grand, moss covered tree that stood over all others was a cozy tree house. In that house was a Lamia. Though this one was quit different from the rest. Aside from being lazier than most, she's also was quite the sorceress. She is adept at elemental magic, golem and earth magic in particular, and proficient in other magics.
She had long, emerald green hair that reached her hips and indigo colored reptilian eyes. Her tail's scales shared the same color as her hair, though a few were slightly darker than the resk. She wore a rather casual set of sky blue pajamas, with a set of extremely elaborate robes and hats on a nearby rack.
She laid in a coiled ball on a soft cushion, with numerous blankets and quilts covering her tail. A lovely and calming song played endlessly from a music box that rested on a table next to her. In her hands was a book about advanced water magics, which she was trying to read without falling asleep.

She closed her book with a loud slap after a few minutes, before sighing loudly. "Alf. tea" She commanded out, as if someone or something was listening.
After a few seconds, what could only be described as walking bundle of sticks and wood with a tree stump for a head walks in carrying a teacup on a plate, like a butler. It carefully and steadily hands it to her and she grabs it and immediately takes a sip.
"Thank you, Alfred." She calmly thanks her wooden construct of a butler. Alfred was a simple, but effective golem made out of wood. Not meant for fighting, he's more suited to cleaning, cooking, and other maid/butler duties.
The Lamia mage takes the book she was previously reading and shoves it in front of Alf, Here, take this back to the library. Unable to speak, he simply nods before gently taking the book from her hands and taking it to the library with slow and steady steps.
"It's certainly nice outside today." The Lamia commented as she looked outside of a nearby window. She finishes her tea in one unladylike gulp before diving under her blankets and taking a mid-day nap.

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The focus once again changes, this time heading to the northwest where the ruins of a once mighty castle once sat at the base of a mountain.
There sat a man who looked to be in his 40s, but was older than 60, drunkenly babbling and trying to sing while taking a swig of his bottle every time he messes up. He wore what would be universally considered a sailor's outfit, and his hair was a dirt brown mullet. He held a long spear close to him. The spear had an average shaft, with a diamond shaped counter weight. Its large blade was a verdant green, with a design perfect for piercing even the toughest of hides in the most devastating of ways.
He is sitting on the ruins of what was once a castle filled with numerous knights who mounted Dragons and rode them into battles. They were the Dragoons, and 40 years ago their castle and their order was wiped away in a single night. This man. being the only survivor, drinks in excess to rid himself of the pain. Despite his happy and joyous songs, his eyes are empty and his heart cries out in constant sorrow.

Before long he runs out of liquor, and stops singing.
"Ahh! Oh wells, it's time fer beds anyway" He chucks the bottle at a nearby wall and shuffles around on the rock until he finds a comfortable sleeping position. His trip to dreamland is quick thanks to the liquor.
Normally a man sleeping out in the open is a prime target for monsters, but no monster dares to even come close to the ruins. Most fear the long gone Dragoons who lived here in ages past will haunt them, others fear that what destroyed the place will return. Regardless of their reasons, they fear the area and refuse to wander close.