Cold. Dreary. Bleak.

Furley’s boots scraped along the wet cobbles and sloshed through the puddles, his cloak wrapped tightly about him as he made his way through Bree on his way home. He sighed, and breathed out deeply, every breath he took seemingly lowering his mood further as the rain came down upon his well-hatted head and soaked him through.

Somehow, after losing count of the days she'd been travelling, Daphne found herself in the bustling city of Dale.
One would think that, being in a merchant Company, she'd be used to being around a lot of merchants, but this city seemed to be on an entirely different level. She could hardly move without bumping into some person along the streets, trying to force their wares on her.
 

"Probably ought to have made a different choice in clothing," was the thought going through Reidun's mind as she stepped in to the common room of the Prancing Pony Inn.
It was not that she had never been in a place such as this before and was unaccustomed to the smell of vomit and sweat permeating every thing in the room. (Oh, the very air did seem to be full of the stench.) No, she was very accustomed to it and hardly noticed.

Dem sat and watched Em as she slept. Egfor may have been her adopted father, but he was fond of her for herself. No matter what Egor's final decision was he would always be here for the lass. She was as dear to him as Syllea, Rosie, Lanchthis, and all the other young girls in his life. Egfor was arguing with a craftmaster next door at the new inn he was building, Something he had decided to left Egfor handle on his own.

Augir watched the whole scene unfold. First Thrandili was back in Kandral's arms, then as fast as the blink of an eye, she stormed back up the stairs. A few words not to her liking and she turned into a thundercloud. 

Byl walked slowly back to the Uzbad's house. His shoulders slumped. He knew his duty and honour were at stake.
Byli, it seemed, had shirked his responsibility and run off.

Kazzili Foonaviul left the home she now shared with Midarin Goldneedle, hemp shopping bag in hand, and set off at a swinging pace for the market. Time to fulfil her new wifely duties! “Let's see, what would he like?

It was a familiar dream.

He was standing out in the barren fields. His only companions were the wintry winds that moaned with all that which he could never put to words. Those unspoken agonies usually gnawed at him like beasts at the roots of an apple tree—above the earth, all sweet scents and blossom-laden boughs and the promise of something more; below the earth, a ruin.

Daedre the Shadowslip, once of the Blood Eye, looked down from the razor thin masonry ledge she was standing on into the center of the vast treasure chamber. Just as she had been told, there was her prize, resting all alone on a heavy pedestal, glass dome covering it. However, was the dome to protect the arrow, or to protect AGAINST the arrow. She held her breathe, and took a moment to think of how she got here.