It was a cold and crisp day in Doma City. The cold air swirled through the town, seeping through even the securest of doors. The Black Fox Bar and Inn was no different, an inviting, orange-hued atmosphere belying the drafty nature of the building. Its patrons, hearty, hardened men, salt of Gaera types, sat about near warm fireplaces, downing lager and speaking of the day's events.
And then there was Layne Cooper.
Layne entered the ...