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	[u]Weather[/u]: It is cold and there is thick, still fog dominating the area.

	[u]Time[/u]: Nighttime. Still enough hours left for trouble and yet get a more-or-less less decent rest this evening.

	[u]Ambience[/u]: It is quiet this evening. Not silent,  mind you, but quiet enough that other sounds become more noticeable. Somewhere down the road, curious sounds of shuffling that one may attribute to rats continues, as does the steadily decreasing drip of water from the previous precipitation. There is the distinct impression that people, for the most part, are heeding the warning of the disembodied voice and keeping hidden. 


[center][h2][color=darkgray]*******[/color][/h2][/center]

        The relative stillness of the evening deepens. One could imagine that they were in a ghost town, though practical sense would remind that this settlement is packed fairly solid with persons local, regional, and far traveller. Banners hung limply in the soft moonlight, made ghostly by the occasional soft breeze and obscurement of the ground-crawling cloud of atmospheric condensation. Yet still, the scent of slow roasted swine and curing fires could be detected, mingling about the air like an everpresent friend.  

        Tiny paws outstretched and released the carefully folded bit of paper into Kosara's hands. The creature then rubbed its face over and over rapidly for a second or two and twitched its little whiskers, sniffing the air. It let out a tiny squeak and began to dart back in the presumable direction of its origin, westward toward the center of town. It stopped just before disappearing into the fog to give a final glance in the direction of the silly bipedal, and then zoomed along at the Speed of Rodent. 

        The paper itself was unremarkable, a bit of coarse parchment common to the area for day-to-day record keeping; it held ink readily without bleedthrough or spreading. It was decorated with simple and legible letters drawn with a precise hand in even, level rows, stating: 

        [hider=Rat Messenger's Letter]
[color=dimgray]-[/color]
        [color=darkgray][i]"Pay no mind to the instructions given to the rabble. You have earned my attention in a much more personal way. I would congratulate you outsiders on inconveniencing my work earlier, but I don't believe in excessive pleasantries. So I will be plain:

        You have approximately twelve minutes to return what you stole from me and apologize on your knees for getting in my way. If you do, you may leave town unmolested by what happens next in this worthless little hamlet. I will even allow you to choose one person under my care to take with you. A certain lady who married into a winemaking family would be relieved to hear this.

        If you are late, if you show disrespect, if you come spoiling for a fight, or if you decline my generous offer, I will rip into their flesh and rain our filth upon them. I will let all of them turn into gibbering beasts and butcher them like mutton. I will use their mangled bodies for spare parts and not think twice about it.

        Come to the center of town. All of you. I will find you by the fountain. Or I will not. The choice is yours.

        Sincerely, 

            - C. "[/i][/color]
[/hider]

        No more screams had echoed in the night air since the tiny messenger dropped off its parcel. The Township's environment seemed to be waiting on something, like a held breath poised for release, or a headsman's axe ready to descend upon command.