The rain fell hard on Grizbub's cloak. If it rains in Bree, it pours. Was at least better than snow, Grizbub thought to himself. The shrouded figure walked up the scholar's stairs, just before the falling of the evening. On the higher level he was met by a woman who kept a watchful eye over her children playing in a puddle in front of their door. Like the good housewife that she was, the little missy hushed her children inside quickly before she closed the door herself. Not that Grizbub wasn't used to it by now. His face, even though it looked more man-like than others of his kin, was still distinguishable orcish. The brutish thug walked over to the recently closed door and banged on it with his leather bound fist. After waiting without response for about ten seconds the half-orc repeated the process of banging the wooden barrier and was met with a response. "Go away! We do not owe you anything!" Not the response that Grizbub expected yet it was a start at least. The brute responded to the shout with one of his own: "I look for a woman called Mina Thistle! She is supposed to have a house nearby." Silence followed for about half a minute before a face appeared in a nearby window. It was one of those small glass ones that people used to see who was paying them a visit. Even though it was caked in dirt and dust, the face of the young mother could be seen in it. She almost hissed the answer: "Go away! We won't tell you where she lives! I will call my husband if you-" The woman didn't complete her answer. Not because she was cut short with a verbal response or by something she remembered. No, she needed to cower. Why did she cower, you might ask. The good housewife cowered because her small glass window was shattered to pieces, a gloved fist taken its place in the frame. When Grizbub took his hand back, he said in a calm yet sneering tone: "It would be smart for you and your children to simply answer. Mina Thistle. Where?"
Dalton Willow was busy with his favourite activity when it rained. A good book was the best remedy for these dreary days. The sound of the rain against the windows was only interrupted by the fireplace near the table. Out of nowhere, a knock could be heard on the door. Dalton grumbled softly as he shoved his chair back and walked over to the door. Must be some equal minded enthusiast that wanted to spend this rainy day in the company of knowledge, Willow thought as he unlocked the door. "Yes what can I-" Dalton swallowed his own words back in as he saw the 'enthusiast' in person. A broad, cloaked figure stood at the doorstep. His face only resembling that of a normal man in the broadest sense of the definition. He didn't said a word. He merely held up a backpack, soaked from the rain. The faint initials on the outside were barely visible thanks to the misuse of the item. Still, Dalton Willow could read them. M.T. Mina Thistle.
