Lughart
First Post
The shouting is coming from outside the inn. Those who exit can see many of the other guests stick their sleepy heads out of their rooms. One by one the guards, merchants helpers and tavern employees are staggering out of their rooms, curious to see what the uproar is about. A group has gathered outside in front of the stablehouse.
It's plain to see the source of the commotion. The stables doors have been smashed open, and the stable itself is empty. All the horses, the merchants wagons and wares, everything has dissapeared during the nights storm, leaving only a corpse dressed in the leather armor common among the caravan guards.
In front of the group stands Farsil the merchant, pale as a sheet, looking at where his caravan should be. Erin stands beside him with a worried look on her face.
It's plain to see the source of the commotion. The stables doors have been smashed open, and the stable itself is empty. All the horses, the merchants wagons and wares, everything has dissapeared during the nights storm, leaving only a corpse dressed in the leather armor common among the caravan guards.
In front of the group stands Farsil the merchant, pale as a sheet, looking at where his caravan should be. Erin stands beside him with a worried look on her face.