[hr][hr][h1][b][i][color=6ecff6][center]World Narrative[/center][/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[b][color=6ecff6]Season:[/color][/b] Late Fall/Early Winter
[b][color=6ecff6]Time Of Day:[/color][/b] Early Morning
[b][color=6ecff6]Weather:[/color][/b] While the previous weeks had been unseasonably warm overnight a chill set into the air that felt like true winter and as the sun finally began to rise there was a haze over the town and grey clouds in the air. A dusting of snow had fallen over the ground and the rooms were colder than they had been when everyone turned in. 
[b][color=6ecff6]General Ambiance:[/color][/b] Things in the village are morose and dark, people seem to be in a daze, unsure of what to think or how to act. Nights usually meant attacks but the evening had provided none. Was this a good sign or a bad one? No one knew. 
[b][color=6ecff6]Location:[/color][/b] Hamlet of Salarn in the region of Gorlf just south of the Orc Settlement of Yzewz

[hr][hr][h3][b][i][color=6ecff6][center]And So Another Day Begins[/center][/color][/i][/b][/h3]
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	The night had been uneventful, Lady Luck seemed to be smiling on the town. There were no attacks and other than the weather turning cold over night nothing else of interest had seemed to happen. There were no attacks, and no one came up missing. some people had decided to leave town in the night but perhaps they left too soon? Or maybe they left just in time and this was the calm before the storm? No one knew and because of this the people that remained in town seemed to be in a depressive mood and on edge. Was it too good to be true? They didn't dare to get their hopes up. Fear gripping many of them. 

	Supplies were running low in the town, they had been a while but now caravans carrying supplies were refusing to come close to the town. Stopping miles south, what could get in was having to be transported by hand and on horseback by militia that could be spared to make trip after trip after trip. Which to say, there was not many and it was causing a near standstill in trade. The constable feared if this kept up much longer things would get dire. Trading north was out of the question right then, even with word from the group that had come to town that the Orcs were not behind it, people would not risk setting out that way. East and West, there was nothing. 

	In the tavern, Femnal sat at the bar, going over papers, speaking with his staff and trying to prepare for the day. It seemed over night everyone had left besides a few. So the place was empty as a ghost town that morning besides the staff and a few patrons. Most of which came in for a breakfast meal before heading out again. No one stayed. Except a white haired woman and her Dire wolf. Kyra sat at a table in the main common room towards the back corner away from every thing else. Her back to the wall with Ash curled up at her feet; ensuring she would see anyone that came into the room. It looked like she had gotten little rest the night before and her boots were caked with mud. 

	"Can I get you anything?" one of the servant wenches asked Kyra as she poured over a scroll. Looking at the woman she shook her head and went back to reading whatever was on the paper and making the occasional note. The woman shrugged and wandered back off, not exactly knowing what to do right then. There was no one else to tend to.