Dawn of the Spring Equinox…
You stir from your night’s rest, awakened by a combination of the savory smell of frying bacon wafting from the kitchen downstairs and a halfling’s boisterous laugh emanating from the commons below.
Marsh Laval, the Green Tankard’s Proprietor, is an early riser and expects the same from his patrons. He’s obviously telling one of his infamous stories again, and your sure it’s at the expense of prompt service.
A moderate wind howls from outside gently rattling your room’s only window. The window is foggy and snow hangs upon it, desperately clinging to the panes as if it had a life of its own. Low white snow clouds hang above the frontier town of Loudwater like a frown upon a sullen face. Diffusing the sun’s warming light, they show no signs of burning off.
Its going to be a cold day and no amount of layering is going keep the last of winter’s tail from lashing out.