Looking out of the window of the inn night is falling, it almost looks
as if the forest is moving towards the walls. There is no sign of the
silver light of Mannsleib in the sky. Morrsleibs sick green light is the
only illumination available. You can feel its malevolent presence
pressing down on you, almost physically pushing you into the ground.
Suddenly there is no light at all, a massive cloud speeds across the
sky, you feel relieved for a second as the sickly green light
disappears. The you hear the wind, and the rolls of thunder, this is
going to be a rough night. You are glad you are safely within the walls
of the inn and that the fire is roaring and bright.
You almost start to forget the storm raging outside as you enjoy the
food and drink of the inn, but the wind keeps getting stronger and is
rattling the shutters. You can hear trees outside the walls creaking,
hear some cracks that mean some will not be standing in the morning. The
thunder is getting nearer.
The old lady is the corner starts to wail, the riders, the riders are
out, the leaders of the nine lost tribes once again ride, we are all
CRASH one of the shutters smashes open, the world turns pure white
silhouetting a hill. You could swear you can see an old man standing on
the hill a staff raised in the air. But its gone, you see flames then
someone jumps up and slams the shutter securely closed.
The atmosphere in the inn is now very subdued. You look around, not the
worst set of companions for your last night in the world. You pull your
possessions close and your weapons closer and wait for the storm to pass.