<em>Winter winds no longer howl south across Lake Vleris, down through the Sasserine Valley and across the cities, towns and villages of the Northern Duchies. Yet another chilling wind replaces it, a long shadow stretching south and east. And in the Great Barrier Mountains above Tal Ellindor scouts report red jets of flame can be seen, possibly heralding the awakening of Yssloeth the Red, who has slept for almost four centuries since the Dragon Rage. <br/><br/>Gates left open are now locked, strangers once warmly greeted are viewed with suspicion, and like animals driven before a storm goblins have been sighted at forest edges or creeping through fields at night.<br/><br/>But not all hope is lost. There are those who don their armour and ready their weapons, study ancient magics and carry the divine favour of the gods. Whether by choice or fate these mercenaries, sell-swords, tomb-robbers and friars will face the encroaching darkness.</em><br/><br/>**<br/><br/>Year 823 on the Imperial Calendar, Fourthmonth, Day 9<strong>823.IV.9</strong>Evening.<br/>Weather: Driving rain, still carrying the icy touch of high mountain ice and snow.<br/><br/>Lameth's Tower, a crooked old ruin above the trade road, should have been a good place to meet the bandits that have plagued the local merchants, merchants who were willing to pay a bounty for every bandit killed or captured. Instead you found a camp-site that had been abandoned for a few days at least, some rabbits for your stew-pot, and a deep soaking on your return to the Loose Goose, the inn on the trade-road where you all met a few days ago.<br/><br/>Your boots squelch in the mud, your feet are soaked and cold. Your cloaks stick to you like a frightened child holding it's mother. Your armour chafes. Undoing leather straps swollen with water will no doubt be a delight. Only those of you with helmets have anything dry -- and that just the crown of your head beneath your iron cap.<br/><br/>The village lies two days south of Vleris, its a busy crossroads and may soon become a proper town. But for now dark buildings shuttered tight against the weather afford you little comfort. Ahead lanterns hung outside the inn beckon, with a promise of warmth.<br/><br/>A mud-coated carriage stands in the yard, and heavy-cloaked servants unload baggage while others lead a team of horses steaming in the cold to the shelter of the stables.<br/><br/>The sign of the inn, a farm-lass chasing a goose, gives the inn its name.<br/><br/>Banging as much mud as you can off your boots you step through the heavy door into the common room. It is dimly lit by a few candles, a lantern by the bar, and a fire place. The smell of wood and pipe smoke and human sweat and burning fat and sizzling meat assail the senses, as does the heat. There's only a small crowd, the locals have all stayed home tonight.<br/><br/>Madame Falconer, whose hawk-nose surely is a sign of the gods' sense of humour, is a whipcord thin human woman, perhaps in her late-fifties already. She has a sharp tongue with her servants, but a pleasant manner with guests, which include all of you.<br/><br/>"Look at you all. I'd send you back to the bath chamber immediately, but Lord Grenoille has already occupied it. On the other hand, he did ask for company, if you aren't modest that would be the best way to get warm. If not, strip down in front of the fire place, and we'll get you some blankets."<br/><br/>One of the charms of this rustic inn is the large tiled bath heated by a hidden furnace, in the style of the Eastern Empire. Relaxing in the steamy heat is certainly the best way to chase the chill from your bones.<br/><br/>[ooc]Please describe yourself. Feel free to interact. How do you plan to get warm? Piled under blankets in bed? Wrapped up in front of the fire? In the Eastern Bath? Or would you prefer to stay wet and cold?[/ooc]