Mooncrown City, at the edge of the square outside the Royal Palace.
Night had fallen. Unlike the panic and uproar that the changes in the sky had sparked elsewhere in the city, the atmosphere here felt somewhat... incongruously ordinary.
Knife-in-the-Butt and the members of his Mountain Tiger Warband had raced back from the Dock District that day, completing their mission to observe the World Tree up close.
Now, they were taking advantage of this brief lull to rest and regroup.
Despite the many wounded among them and the enormous changes unfolding in the sky, they neither panicked nor wailed in despair.
The players, dressed in matching military greatcoats and carrying flintlocks, sat on the ground in twos and threes or leaned against walls and statue bases that were still intact.
Some carefully wiped down their gun barrels and checked their bayonet catches; others took rations and canteens from their packs, quietly replenishing their strength.
Still others huddled together, quietly comparing notes on the battle outside the elves' sacred grounds and discussing how to use their muskets against demons more efficiently.
They all bore traces of battle to varying degrees... bloodstains, dust, damaged armor, and even makeshift bandages wrapped around a few members.
But their eyes mostly held the relaxation of a completed mission, along with... eagerness for whatever might happen next?
It was as though the recent string of encounters, enough to break a conventional army, had been nothing more than a slightly challenging first run through a dungeon.
Knife-in-the-Butt himself leaned against an abandoned carriage, his chainsword propped casually beside him as he looked down and inspected the wooden-handled grenades hanging from his belt. His gas mask concealed his expression, but his focused posture stood in sharp contrast to the half-elves and elven guards rushing anxiously about, looking up