Heh, it's my first round, and I still have all day to retract it.. I just wanted to see if it would prick up his pointy little fur covered ears.
Mal finishes putting away his food stocks from the south. The ale is good and strong as always, but no ale will be strong enough to keep the sinister forces away this coming night. Should he even open his doors to the public? It's not like anyone likes deep fried bottom feeder anyway. Sadly he drags the slops from last night's leftovers to the midden behind the pub. Returning to his back door, he freezes, a look of dawning horror on his face. The thick oak door in the rear of the pub is scarred by fresh deep claw marks... Oh dear God protect me. The wovles are at my door! Mal kneels down in front of the door and begins to pray.
