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	[u]Weather[/u]: Remains cold, just above freezing. Occasional light winds. 

	[u]Time[/u]: It is now toward the later hours of the night. 

	[u]Ambience[/u]: The fog is still thick, like puffy clouds clinging tightly to the earth. The large, one-phase-away-from-being-full moon diffused its light through with some effort. Places of illumination within the Township became even more infrequent as businesses which catered to the late night crowd closed up shop. The darkness is made more complete by the oppressive fog, preventing even darkvision from penetrating very far into the night. 
 
	[u]Outside of Town[/u]: The roar of the flames almost drowns out the screams of the dying as the Lich King's forces push through, their unspeaking, undead forms bringing torture and demise to merchant and festival-goer alike. 

	Now that I've got your attention, take a breath. (Ahem) The camp and brazier fires around the temporary dwellings have dulled mostly to red-orange coals. Most of these people have turned in for the evening, anxious to return to the Harvest Festival the next day with a night of good rest and a clear head. A slim minority of them, however, have decided to stay up and drink some more. 
 

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	Robert gave Marita a long look before shrugging nonchalantly. [color=darkgray]"No."[/color] It was flat and direct. [color=darkgray]"If you're done taking tips, that's fine by me. I'm sure Lea won't mind getting her tables back."[/color] Counting tips, Marita managed to secure for herself five silver coins of the realm, most of which was in copper coins. It was a generous haul for turning over four tables in a neighborhood watering hole, especially for someone without much experience tending tables. 

	As for Lea, she took a moment to stop by her temporary helper for the night (that would be Marita) and give a warm, generous thanks. [color=darkgray]"I [i]really[/i] appreciate the help during the rush tonight, Miss Marita. Here,"[/color] she says, pressing a few coins (3 silver) into her palm while making what appeared to merely be a friendly gesture. A little quieter, Lea suggested, [color=darkgray]"Have a glass of something nice on me, maybe?"[/color] before moving on to her duties around the taproom. 

	The taproom itself has taken on more of a subdued tone, with people finishing up their meals for the most part and many settling up. Finding an extra seat isn't an issue anymore for the alert for one. Those remaining seem to fall into two main camps: Regulars who stayed out a little later than they intended to, and others (local and otherwise) who have overindulged in drink. Scattered examples of other options remained, but they were not the norm. 

	A series of drinks were poured and set up in front of Kathryn. Her ale, of course, and Curly's ale, in addition to the refill of the pitcher asked about earlier. Lawrence's insistence on getting Kat "the best stuff in the house" was taken to heart. As it had not been poured yet, Robert took the opportunity to fill a carafe with the heady, vermilion-colored wine that the party had rescued earlier that very day from aggressive Goblin-folk, and plunked four glasses onto the bar around it. 

	The center table still housed Maurice, who glanced every so often to the door, expecting his friends to show up any at moment. He had been one of the first to notice the hubbub at the front door, and seemed glued to the area now to see what happened next. 

	As for the guy who passed out at the doorway - he appeared to be easy enough to rouse. Eyes fluttered briefly as his brain tried to process everything and his eyes focused on the nearest thing to him, Kosara, before quietly but urgently asking, [color=darkgray]"Where... where am I?"[/color] Fear laced his words, as palpable as anything else in the room.