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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Envisioner" data-source="post: 7939055" data-attributes="member: 6749263">DwarvesWhile Grimnir and Mornok walk to the bar, the former at least notices the thick clouds starting to roll in from the west, born on a high wind far too violent to merit the typical term of "zephyr", the leading edge of which has already reached the town and is beginning to rattle the shutters, set the decorative elven chimes on several of the larger houses to jangling discordantly, and shake the trees hard enough to scatter early apples and acorns onto the ground a week sooner and a yard wider than they'd have ordinarily fallen.  The cleric has strong reason to suspect his patroness might have sent this storm, though whether she had any reason for doing so is anyone's guess; in any event, his experience tells him that the brunt of the blow won't fall until close to midnight, even though the westerly gales have probably carried these clouds close to half of the distance from the sea already, crossing many a mile in perhaps as little as thirty minutes, before they started to pile up on the craggy peaks for which the Wood of Sharp Teeth is partially named.  The terrain to the northwest and southwest of Greenest is probably already being soaked; how odd that Umberlee's servant seems to be in the one place least vulnerable to her wrath, assuming she is indeed wrathful this evening.The seafaring dwarf was already planning his apotropaic ritual before he saw the evidence of his deity's presence; it seems even more prudent afterward.  The inkeep glares a little at the sight of you pouring his ale onto his tables, but apparently decides to just dismiss this as typical dwarven weirdness and not comment upon it.</blockquote>

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