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On South Cross Street in Alkhemia, once the liveliest thoroughfare in the city, a quiet chill had begun to settle in.
The worsening economic climate was becoming impossible to ignore. More and more shops had shuttered their doors, and fewer and fewer employers could afford to offer work to adventurers.
The Iron Slag, too, had seen its clientele dwindle. In the past, that alone would have sent its owner into a rage. An orc's temper was famously volatile, with calm moments few and far between.
But these past few days, the tavern had been strangely peaceful. The reason was simple: the owner had changed.
Una Hellfire, the former orc proprietress, had already packed her bags....
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