Offline Post #3

June 29, 2010, 00:42

The crimson moon hung low in the night sky, dark and foreboding. The faint glow settled on the city and as the growing winds wove their way through the streets the last shutters were being closed, creaking against the powerful winds. The air whistled between the tightly knit buildings rattling the closed doors looking for a way in. There was not a soul in the streets tonight. All was quiet and the only sound that could be heard was the fury of the storm building up.

It was a slow night at the tavern, most had gone home at the first sign of the storm. The weather was always unpredictable this time of year and storms were powerful and unyielding. The owner stood being the counter drying ale mugs. He was plump man with a cheerful face, his contagious smile rarely leaving his face. He was a tall man, with board shoulders and a well rounded belly betraying his love for good food and good ale. He laughed heartily and was always quick with a joke but the atmosphere tonight was somber and his lighted-hearted conversation was not to be had tonight. Sullen, he worked in silence.

The tavern was almost empty. The men from the quarry outside the city sat in the middle of tavern talking in low whispers. There were strange happening these days and rumors were plentiful. A few drunken soldiers sat the back guzzling down ale and even though they were noisy, they kept to themselves. They didn’t even bother the waitress, which was rare. An old man sat in the corner by the fireplace smoking a pipe. He was a stranger from out of town and had arrived earlier this morning at the inn above the tavern. He had spoken to no one since he arrived except to order some hot soup and potatoes. He wore a dark cloak that shimmered faintly in the light. It was indeed a slow day for business.