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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Azgulor" data-source="post: 3615803" data-attributes="member: 14291">Cyryn leaned against the bar of the Sitting Duck, nursing his ale.  He found it always paid to be sober amongst a group deep in their cups.  Sighing in boredom, he realized he'd drunk more than he thought.  The local ale wasn't bad, almost as good as the ale from home...Dismissing that thought, he scanned the tavern.  The logging town seemed to have rougher residents than most of the farming communities he passed through.  Everyone was still talking about the "plague" continued to dominate the various conversations, and Cyryn cursed himself for a fool.  He wondered if he could still catch up to the caravan he'd arrived with two days before, then dismissed the idea.  The caravan had conducted its business as quickly as possible and had departed before first light, eager to put the rumors of plague behind them.   Plague or no, Cyryn suspected that there were villages and towns along the route back that might have a citizen or two that might be looking for some missing belongings.  Upon arriving Cyryn had proceeded to seduce the attractive serving wench who now winked at him with a knowing smile.  As she had led him off into the night, Cyryn had shouted to the caravan master (and the rest of the tavern) that he was leaving the caravan.After indulding in the pleasant memory for a moment, Cyryn cursed himself again before returning his attention to the tavern's patrons.  If he hadn't been in such a hurry to slake his lust, he might have heard about the plague before he'd quit the caravan.  There were other newcomers, he saw, taking special note of the athletic beauty with the red hair, fierce disposition, and serviceable sword.  A worthy challenge, to be sure, but one better saved for less worrisome times.Turning to the bartender, Cyryn motioned for a refill.  "Tell me, friend, how long has this 'plague' been around?  What does it do to a person?"</blockquote>

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