Utterly Mad

DUNCAN

You take up a seat and knock on the counter, "The usual?" It was her working the counter again tonight, damn "Yellow Fever" probably has the bartender still in a death-grip. You order a whiskey and she tightens her blood-red corset, pushing her bust up; hoping she can squeeze a few extra tips for her beauty, outta your wallet. She bends over suggestively and picks up a bottle of drink, several of the more 'joyful' patrons whistled like wolves as they get a full-moon shown at 'em.

Slamming the shot glass on the table, filling up your glass of the strong beverage, she looks at you with her wide-eyes and places her elbow on the counter, gesturing for you to pay her.

Amy

After setting the grocer bag in the wagon, you'd headed towards Farmer Dave's little produce stand in the center of town. It was quaint and makeshift, with oranges and watermelons all piled in bins, behind these bins was a napping Farmer Dave with a sign around his neck: "Jus' take wat ya ned!" painted sloppily on the piece of plywood. Quietly you grabbed the pallet of jars that all contained the opaque beverage, with the jars having an emblem reading "MALK" molded into the glass, in stylish cursive no less.

Flynn

You walk out of the blacksmiths to find its gotten a ton more darker, the sky is now a beautiful array of oranges and deep hues of blue. The clouds begin to fade into the starry night sky, and the crickets begin their orchestra of night. The gentle patters of footsteps as people walk by break the stillness that has come over Lockjaw. In the distance you hear the merriment and shouts of drunkards breaking the silence.