[@GreenGoat]
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[color=d8cfbe]"Some suspicious figure is going about and slinging axes at people's doors. I want you all to be on watch,"[/color] Yamarr said to the constables. Taft was a small town, but its police force was fairly well equipped. Each member had a sharpened sabre, baton, blinding spray, and whatever gate they themselves possessed. It was certainly enough to keep a town of several thousand safe.

Yamarr had sent the three teenagers home after calling for the police, and he now stood in the center of a circle on the cobblestones just outside his home. The rain lifted a few minutes prior to the meeting, and they now stood on the slick road, illuminated by the locked-up gemlights in the streetlamps.

The constables nodded and split up after receiving Yamarr's account of what had transpired that night. Lendal had died, the beastman was served justice, and now there was some mentally-deranged warmongerer throwing axes at doors. It certainly was the most excitement the town had gotten since the bank teller's daughter had ran away with a passing gypsy caravan. The day would certainly be remembered in the town's history.

Though, something even stranger was happening. A curious white powder was spreading through the air. It looked almost like snow... Yamarr reached out and brushed some with his hand. Fluffy, like pollen. But it was getting close to winter now. Why would there be pollen?

He suddenly felt rather... sluggish. Maybe he could... just take a rest on the ground, just for a moment. The cobbles were just [i]so[/i] inviting...