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There's a chill in the air when you arrive at Greyridge. Nothing unnatural about it, so far as you can tell, it's just a cold part of the land. It's an ugly town, and there's no way to hide that – the ragged stumps of felled trees surround the town, while the nearby hillside shows scars from mining work. Clusters of wooden shacks and log cabins huddle together in loose groups, with a few larger structures ruling over them.
Most of the timber is moved south, where it gets turned into rifle stocks. That's what Master Brehm said, at least, one of the fun facts he had been able to dig up before you set off on your travels. Eight hours is a long time to spend in a carriage, and you probably heard each bit of trivia at least twice each. Maybe he plans to test you on it later.
An unsettling sight on the way into moonlit town. Just on the outer edges of the town, a few sullen townsfolk stand by a burning funeral pyre. The mourners – women, mostly, older women - don't seem to pay any attention as your carriage slowly rattles past, but Master Brehm watches them sharply. If they're going to the trouble of burning their dead, they must be having some kind of trouble.
You take rooms at a small, dismal guest house, the sort of place that actual mining surveyors might stay at. Master Brehm lets out a disgusted grunt at the sight of the thin doors and flimsy locks, but says nothing else and vanishes into his room. Sitting down on the edge of the hard bed, you take out your revolver and check the cartridges. It occurs to you, then, that you might actually need to use the weapon here.
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You're not sure what wakes you, if it's some noise or just a bad vibe in the air, but you find yourself jolting awake in a dark, disorientating room. For the first few seconds you're not sure where you are, but then your thoughts catch up with you. Looking away from the unfamiliar ceiling, you rise from your uncomfortable bed and pace the room for a moment.
No use trying to get back to sleep just yet, not until you can shake off this restless feeling. Throwing on your coat and slipping your revolver into your deep pockets instead, you creep from the guest house and look around the silent town. The moon is vast, grotesquely swollen, and the silver light it casts gives the whole town a dream-like feeling.
You wander, searching for any sign of the alchemical society but not really expecting to find anything. Just learning the town is good enough, getting a taste of the air and a feel for the mood. Listening to the land – that's what Master Brehm calls it. The land isn't saying much at the moment, but you know better than to rush things. It'll take as long as it takes.
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