It was a dark and stormy night when the stranger rode into Pumpkintown. Utterly miserable weather, absolutely pissing down rain, the gravel road more like mud soup with rocks than a working road. The only light was from a crack in the shutters of the Pumpkintown General Store, and from a shining orb on the shoulder of the rider, which was flickering in the rain.
The rider wasn't what you would normally see in front of a place called Pumpkintown General Store. The horse was large and leggy, and white, but a strange sort of white - by daylight, it might almost be called pearl or opal, but by lantern and magelight, it was simply washed out in a way that made it look almost ill. The rider was tall, tall enough to ride such a beast without issue, with a sopping wet cloak that didn't seem to be doing much to keep the rain off. The sodden velvet hood clung to pointed ears, and poorly concealed the golden curls plastered here and there along the face of the creature wearing it.
Sputtering in protest of the rain as much as the magelight, the rider dismounted at some speed, and tied the horse to one of the porch posts of Pumpkintown General Store - not very well, due to attempting to do so backwards while hiding under the eaves of the roof.
With an oath to the moon, the rider's magelight went out. The horse's lead tied itself around the porch post, and the door to Pumpkintown General Store, which had been locked, blew open with some force, throwing the broken padlock into the mud. Still spitting curses, some magical and some mere oaths, the cloaked rider ducked through the doorframe (which was slightly too short) and into the flickering lamplight within.
The wooden door slammed shut on the storm, leaving only a sodden cloaked rider in a puddle of summer rain, late enough in the season to be slightly chilly. The light ceased flickering when the wind was banished back to the outside, the generous number of lamps settling and their flames revitalizing, revealing a remarkably well-stocked store for being in the middle of goblin-inhabited countryside. Tents and ropes were rolled neatly in a section next to wide-brimmed hats and a variable selection of boots, none of which matched in size. Bacon and onions dangled from the rafters, next to braids of garlic, peppers, and dried herbs. Bins of scrap fabic and shelves of rough-carved wooden toys, clay jars and glass bottles of assorted things, even a few buckets of colorful candies and a rack of only slightly dog-eared comics.
A bubble popped - literally. A lanky goblin sort of creature lounging on the counter hastily stuffed the wad of bubble gum back in its mouth, and set its comic book aside. It had too much leg and rib to really be a proper goblin, but was certainly a horrible mottled green, grey, and pink, with batty ears, and not enough teeth, and eyes that didn't quite seem to focus on the same point at the same time. And it was dressed like a goblin, in a too-short pair of cutoff coveralls patched with at least six different colors, pockets bulging with untold horrors, and a splatter-dyed shirt that was more rag than shirt underneath, with no shoes or socks or collars or hats or anything whatsoever of dignity.
"We're closed," the beastie called.
"I don't care," the hooded figure spat. "It's pissing down rain out there. I need supplies, and I need to dry off. I'll pay a night's board if I must."
"Can't sell you anything," the creature shrugged. "Register's down. We're doing inventory."
The rider flipped back their hood, and looked around the clean but clearly deserted store.
"We?"
"Me. My brothers all went to bed."
"Well, I'm sure that comic book is a very important part of inventory."
"It is, actually. Gotta make sure all the pages are still here before I trade it back in."
There was a bit of a show of flipping the page of the flimsy book, and another puffed bubble of pink gum.
The sodden traveler sighed, picking through their plastered-down robes beneath the cloak, and threw two shining gold coins to the floor with a clatter.