[h3]EXPEDITION MASSACRE TEN MILES FROM DUST[/h3]
Eight men and women belonging to the Bluebird Expedition League were found dead yesterday. Dust patrolmen recovered the bodies and determined the cause of death to be bullet wounds found on each corpse. The Bluebird Expedition League was thought to have been heading east of Dust, approximately ten miles out from town when they perished in the night. Any witnesses of the event and those who may have any further details about the massacre are encouraged to seek out Sheriff Terrance Goldberg for a monetary reward for aiding in the search and capture of the criminals responsible.

[h3]Monde Trade Company[/h3]
[i]Odds and ends for every aspiring frontiersman. Sturdy boots, dried foods, camp supplies, and travel savvy runes all for sale at a reasonable price. Make sure your first trip into the wild isn't your last; trust Monde Trade Company for supplies you can rely on.[/i]
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13 Red St.
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[h3]Sleeping Bear[/h3]
[i]Rest in luxury with Sleeping Bear, a hotel of the finest quality on the frontier. Bedrooms accommodate two to four people with the option of rolling beds for even larger groups. Basic amenities and stabling are provided with each room.[/i]
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24 Rail St.
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[h3]Red River Saloon[/h3]
[i]Open all hours of the day to provide delicious breakfasts, lunches, dinners, and drinks. Try Mr. Philey's custom mulberry brew for a sweet and refreshing drink. Excellent prices and a comfortable lounge make Red River Saloon the best watering hole for residents and explorers alike.[/i]
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11 Rail St.
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Verity set down the newspaper as she took a long sip of her fruit-flavored booze. The sparkling sweetness fizzed like a griddle at breakfast time as she swallowed, making her smile as she closed her eyes to enjoy the sensation. All around her was the morning buzz—mercenaries clamoring over a billboard for work, laborers stopping in to inhale their breakfast before running off to work, and even respectable business men shared a drink over their contracts. No table was empty and the booths were even more crowded, cream-colored wallpaper and dusty wooden floor filled wall to wall with people going about their business. The only space left was at the bar where Verity sat with her plate and mug, a smattering of empty stools on either side of her.

She was an oddity all by herself, one leg folded over the other in a most unladylike fashion. Her pleated black skirt was fluffed out like a bell, dark lace spilling out from the space between her legs and the skirt's ruffled hem. Her blouse was a loose white thing topped with a lacy black jabot, which ruffled over her chest like a long handkerchief. The long, loose blonde curls of her head had been pinned back to cascade down her neck in a series of bubbly curls, which bounced over her shoulders as she turned her head and asked the barkeep for another drink.

Verity had been staying in Dusk for roughly a week, and during that time had picked up every newspaper and wilderness related magazine to figure out how she wanted to go about finding an expedition. She'd lingered enough to have heard all sorts of stories—stories about leaders who cheated their hirelings with dubious contracts or even worse, sold out naive groups of explorers to bandits who awaited them in ambush once those explorers made it out of town. Finding an honest expedition leader was like searching for a needle in a haystack; she needed someone who was bold but just, a level-headed sort of fellow who could balance the prospect of finding the Wishing Star with the reality of the harsh Frontier. 

Perhaps she was being too idealistic. Several days with no results was making her antsy and the food was getting bland. Sure, the bacon was thickly sliced and spiced with bacon, and sure, the meat was cooked to be crunchy and yet with bits that practically melted in her mouth. The scrambled eggs were a treat too, bathed in cheese that left strings attached to her fork when she tried to eat them. Even the toast was decent, but that was mostly because of the dark mulberry jam spread on top of it. All of it was delicious, yes, but it did nothing to settle her troubles.

[i]What to do, hmm...[/i] Verity eyed the clock sitting atop one of the barkeep's shelves, some delicate wind-up affair with copper numbers welded to its face. Barely ten minutes had passed, yet it felt like an hour. She couldn't help but groan, leaning her elbow on the bar as she gazed out through a window that seemed like it was more smudged dirt than glass.