Tales of more killings echo through the watering holes and mines of Krofburg.
and one particularly small fat drunkard in the merriment catches your ear.
" It is said that amber eyes, colder than the mountain, prowl through the tents on
misty nights.. A wolf, I tells ye.. A wolf with a hatred, more than a hunger.. See,
no corpses ever been feasted on.. Merely left rent open.. a message, I say.. Leavin'
their bits for the birds in the mornin'.. Ye lot heed my words.. Travel at night, and fall
prey to the Wolf of Krofburg.. be a fools mistake- if ye ask me. MORE ALE!!"
A cheer or two errupts as the music and murmurs drown each other out and you feel
the spirits doing their work.
