An intense rumble reverberated through the night sky, causing windows to rattle in their frames and children to desperately clasp their hands over their ears. A few glances and glares were shot at the parents escorting their children down the street as they began to whimper. The sun had set hours ago, they should be at home and asleep. Another flash flickered across the horizon, closer this time. The figure was leaning comfortably against the wall, watching the parents pass by just like everyone else. A deafening clap shook the air around them, causing nearly everyone to cover their ears this time. One of the children now wailed, one of the parents - perhaps the mother- trying to soothe the poor thing. The last bit of thunder still echoed, and the figure leaning against the wall could have sworn she felt that one deep in her chest. 

From beneath her cloak, the woman’s pale green eyes darted back to the door she had been staring down for the past several minutes. She had been carefully watching for those coming and going from the establishment across the street from where she stood, observing anything that one might consider odd or suspicious. So far she had counted several elven men, a handful of orcs and dwarves, and a group of five or six humans leaving the tavern come and go. All of them appeared to be local laborers. Farmers, miners, craftsmen- though she wasn’t sure about the elven men. They all seemed to be wearing light armor, so her guess was they were guards. For where, she couldn’t say since this town, Silvville, was too small to need anything beyond their small group of town guards. Their armor was far too ornate for a local guard. She guessed that there was perhaps a small embassy nearby and that they had come from there after shift change. 

The Outskirts were mainly inhabited by dwarves, perhaps a few orcs, and humans. It was a vast land west of the capital that spanned from the farthest north reaches of Halsvir to the far south. It curved along the southern border, which was nearly an unscalable wall of mountains that pierced the sky. Very few bothered to live in the southernmost lands, and even fewer decided to visit it. Even the largest city, Amrannar, was many miles north of the mountains, leaving them as distant draggers along their horizon. 

In the far north, there was a vast river that drew the borders of their country. On the other end, miles away, was the country of Selmar. The north was a profitable region thanks to the river, many fishing villages lined its shores. Yet Silvville sat somewhere in between the two borders, nearly a month’s journey from Foras, their shining beacon of a capital. 

The tavern door slammed shut as another group of dwarven men stumbled out, the sound bringing her back to the moment rather than continuing to wonder about the armor and its ornate detailing. She watched them head down the road that headed east; the same way that she had just come into town from. A shiver ran through her, and she decided that perhaps she was tired of watching the locals and instead time to be a bit more hands-on.