Noon in Loudwater was humid, ungodly so. The river ensured that reflecting the sun and evaporating the water into the air to half-suffocate everyone. The sun baking the streets and the buildings ensured that the air was heavy and hot. Despite the discomfort things progressed as usual, businesses, visitors, residents went about their lives in the usual manner. At least on the surface that is what it seemed. If one looked closely the eyes of the residents were haunted, suspicion tinged every comment, visitors while welcomed were still subtly uncomfortable. There were a few merchants in town, though not many as usual. The flow of merchants had thinned of late, and that made times even harder for the residents of Loudwater. They relied on trade goods to cover what they couldn't farm, fish, gather, and hunt. Additionally there had been strange news tidbits, rumors that Llorkh and Twiddledale, the last villages before entering the desert, had been destroyed. There was no consistancy to the rumors...one said they were raided by giants, another that disease had claimed them, still a third claimed that some great natural disaster had hit. For those living in Loudwater it didn't matter. They would never be able to leave to find out, and they had their own problems to handle. It was only the traveling merchants, and the youngest children who were interested in gossip. 

So much had changed in the past month in this once comfortable place. The shrines to the dark god were all over, having popped up like mushrooms. The gods faithful sat by their shrines, looking innocuous and undisturbed, waiting for someone to come pay their respects. They were far from it though, keen eyes observed all the locals, seeking out anyone who might offer insolence. The enforcers wandered the city too, only the locals knew who they were, but they gave them a wide berth. A visitor might wonder why certain individuals were ignored, treated like pariahs, but when asked the locals would only shake their heads and scurry off like they were incredibly busy. Citizens who once enjoyed life now were concerned only with surviving, and for some they were even giving up on that. The city had grown to have an aura of hopelessness about it, no one cared and it was only the routine that really kept people going. Fishers still had to fish. Bakers to bake. Farmers to farm. At first people had tried to leave, but any hint of that option was squelched with the frequent public executions. Not only were the hangings very public, they had been mandatory, and the enforcers had made sure that everyone came. Now the pressure to attend a hanging is off, only those not working have to attend, but that does not make things any better. Only those with the most resiliant dreams, the strongest drive, still had some hope and yet even they, in the back of their hearts, knew that there was a good chance they would meet the hangman soon. 

Brisa and Argurios arrived on the outskirts of the city just a hair past the midday. Tired and dusty, but actually looking much better than they had when they started their journey. Both had grown in strength over the time, Brisa in particular had come to be able to walk a whole day without exhaustion claiming her. Thanks to Argurios they always had food, thanks to Brisa they always had a warm fire at night, even in the rain. Over all they had achieved a comfortable rhythm, both with travel and with each other. The town was not a welcoming one, and for the two who had been traveling some time, who had encountered strange things they had not thought possible a few ten-day ago. They needed more supplies however, at least food, and stopping was a necessity. 

For Kieny the day was perfectly ordinary, or at least compared to what she had come to expect. She was working, she was always working, but it would be time shortly for the midday meal. In her case it would be slim pickings, she had only a partial payment of her apprenticeship fees…and as it looked like her master wouldn’t be getting the rest any time soon he was trying to make up for the loss through labor and making sure she was fed and clothed as was required—but only with the most basic and cheapest of supplies. Her master was not unkind, simply frugal. At least the midday break was in fact a break. 

Rogk had arrived in town earlier that same day. Loudwater was a necessary stop on the road, by virtue of it taking every available free space. There was either a farm or a house or a drying shed or a boat dock in almost every inch of space that wasn’t either river or dense forest. Even though the town was centralized, the outlying buildings and homesteads filled the area. When folk make their living off the land they must, by virtue of that very living, spread out so they have land to work. He was not welcomed in the town, but he was not unwelcomed either. Rather everyone gave off the attitude of simply being too busy to care. It was the shied the locals used, to keep them from answering questions from any prying visitors. Only the merchants were actually welcomed, for they needed the trade or the town would fail. Everyone else was ignored unless they were spending money somewhere. Rogk fell into the category of "everyone else" and thus no one cared what he did.

Jatan, living now in the slums of the town, was familiar with the routine of the lowlifes that lived there. Midday was a time of extreme laziness. There was nothing to do. From dusk till dawn was the thieves high time. Now the only ones who worked were the beggar kids and street rats, they would have been kicked out of their stations during peak hours. They were left to gather what they could during the heat of the day and the midday slump. The true thieves, whores, and their ilk took this time to rest from their labors. In his section of town, very little exerted itself during these most miserable hours of the day. It made the heavy humid air and the stench seem all the worse but it also made it seem almost peaceful. If peace could be had in such a shifty part of town filled with such shady characters.

Things were calm, if such could be said of the village, in the midday heat. They remained that way for nearly an hour after noon when suddenly the clanging of a gong could be heard from the village square. Everyone local knew what that meant. The enforcers had found someone to enforce. Once everyone in town was made to attend the hangings; there was always a sermon and some fanatical devotions and basically it took everyone all day. Now they had backed off the insistence. Only those with “free” time were made to go. But everyone knew what was happening and most went anyway...at least for a moment...to see who got caught. 

Today's hanging must have been different for the bonging of the gong didn't abate, it simply carried on and on its hollow rippling sound filling the town. Enforcers walked the streets, and the locals realized there were new enforcers. Friends they had yesterday were enforcers today, no warning or suspicion. And unlike before there seemed to be no correlation between who was turned to an enforcer. It was as if the priests just drafted people against their will. It was clearly against their will too...their eyes were black, lifeless, and their voices nearly as hollow and dark as as their eyes. 

They roamed the city even now, ferreting out everyone, stranger and local alike, and bringing them to the town square. This was a new day, and things in town were about to change again. The dark god was growing stronger in this world...and though his priests had no real power they sought to to use what they could to bring more to their god. There was no option to resist, and those who tried were “gently” redirected, through force if necessary. All must attend this great ceremony for there was not one hanging but seven to be had this day. Only the most worthless of the towns folk, the weaklings, injured, and the children could escape the eyes of the enforcers. They held no value to the dark god.