As Brombrent approached the inn's doors, they burst open. He only just dodged out the way as a player flew through.
"Jackass," Brom hissed, not staying long enough to hear any sort of justification.
Outside, it was chilly, a cool morning breeze sweeping over him, forcing him to pull his tatty coat tighter. If he was going to be stuck here much longer, which in all likelihood looked to be certain, he needed to start getting better equipment. Well, he could kill two birds with one stone. With renewed purpose, he set off along the cobbled street to his destination.
The orange hued fingers of the early morning sun stretched their way out over the buildings and alleyways, chasing away the cold grip of darkness. By the time Brom reached the city's message board, A place where NPCs and players could post requests and general messages.
He looked up his earlier message requesting information about strange events after after the incident. He found a few replies, and copied them over to his journal to browse through later. He has more pressing concerns at the moment; he certainly couldn't find the answers he sought if he were dead!
He tapped another scrap of paper pinned to the board, a text box appearing before him. Someone wanted 100 matted furs to begin making basic clothing for all the stranded players, a cord that resonated with him. People are going to start dieing of exposure soon if they couldn't get warmer clothing for the bitter nights, not everyone could afford rooms at the inn let-alone there being enough for them all.
He copied the request to his quest-log, luckily he knew of a great place to find this stuff. The forest nearby that held mutant squirrels, they were low level but often dropped stuff like this. He copied a few more requests, mostly about collecting herbs, before setting off.