[sblock=Baereaus]The rain spat down hard upon you as you made your way into the land of the Rolling Green. You had heard of how it rained here, but wasn't expecting this and your feet squelched with every step in your light boots. The village a couple of acres up ahead was called Teh’venro and rumor had it (he had garnered from a resistance contact he had made a few weeks ago) was where a particularly effective team was on the hunt for something of utmost imortance to the resistance movement.
From here you could make out the dim lights of the small village, after another fifteen minutes slogging through rain and mud and you can make out the buildings. The tiny little village is old and weathered, however the stout timbers of the buildings show that little has shaken this village since before the Mythar arrived. There is a single inn, a horse hitched out front. An eerie hush hangs over the walls amidst a foggy drizzle, as if death has recently been here.[/sblock]