Monika smiled at El and Annabeth in lieu of words. She couldn't think of anything to say in response to the elf's praise, so she just bowed in return. She closed her box with a soft kick and hoisted it onto her shoulder. She slowly leaves the house, softly saying "I should probably restock on ingredients if we're to set out," then, a little louder, "I'll see you all at the gate soon!"

She steps out the door, and into the salt and fish air of the docks. Not wanting to draw any attention to herself, she hurried toward the wall that led back to the city proper. She had her hand in a pouch by her side, resting on the glass vial that held her safety. Anybody offering a threat would find themselves regretting it rather soon.
Luckily, nothing happened and a short while of walking later, and she made it back to the lab that was once Geroges' and now hers. She quickly gathered all she might need: food, water, extra ingredients, and one or two books she was halfway through.

---

She was the first back at the gate, so she took a seat on her box and pulled out a book, attempting to read over the sounds of the nearby rabble. In particular, a group of four men who were well armed and dangerous looking. They were clearly not impressed by the city. She briefly thought about asking them to quiet down, but thought the better of it. It was a public space after all, and there would always be more noise. Instead, she opted to tune them out and wait for her new companions.

The bard decidedly did not look back when he disappeared into the crowd. As he continued to walk through the somewhat busy traffic, he found himself thinking about the scene he'd witnessed earlier. The face of a butcher, the woman, George knew that face from somewhere earlier in the day, but he couldn't fully recall it. After stuffing the entire layout of the city inside of his head, some of the memories from the morning were buried under the myriad of mental maps and possible escape routes. George brushed it off. He'd remember later. Anyways, it was much more important for him to create a story than try to remember a single face of a criminal. In addition, He'd never found it savory to rat out those involved in the creation of a great story.

His stomach growled.

"About time to get some lunch, but a snack on the way couldn't hurt," George thought to himself. After reaching back into the pack tied to his back, he procured a small, half-bitten dried root and chomped a small piece of it. Unlike most of the other roots, this one was rather ordinary. It is rather tasty, however, and is good substitute for meat in a stew. George wormed his hand back into the bundle to place the root back and continued to walk while loudly munching on the root.

in his recollection, George heard a particularly popular tavern in this area renown for their exotic meats. After walking in that general direction, George finally found the tavern and opened the door. An awash of aromatic, meady, savory smells spilled out of the gates. No wonder why this place is so popular amongst the townsfolk. Just by smelling the meat George could ascertain the quality and value of the meats. He walked into the amber glowed room which housed a couple dozen tables and chairs that were packed with travelers. Notable was the bar, the array of smaller kegs and the door frame next to it, and the stage set prominently at the end of the somewhat short tavern. George sat down by the onto a round seat and looked at the bar tender, smiling.

"What fine meats do you carry? George asked in his usual aloof manner.

"Cow, mutton, pig, raccoon and venison. The common meats are 3 silver each. The raccoon is 4 silver. The venison 6." The bartender replied. George nodded. Then with a dramatic gesture, he pretentiously positioned himself to make a request

"If you may listen, can I interest you in a bargain for the raccoon?" The bartender gave George a dead-pan look. He was listening.

"I am a bard, and as you can see, one who is not afraid to play the fool. For a night's pantomime, I would request to barter for a venison, some coin, and a majority of the proceeds from the performances." The bartender looked at George plainly.

"Even split of the proceeds," the bartender pushed.

"Seven eighths"

"Three fifths."

"Four fifths"

"Five eigths," George pretended to have a moment of thinking and began slightly nodding. In the bartender's eyes, he could see a spark of joy in the bar tender's eyes.

Nonchalantly, George calmly said, "Seven tenths."

"Two thirds." George held out his hand and grinned widely.

"Deal." The two shook on it. Afterward, the bartender pointed towards stage. George nodded, stood up, and placed himself onto the stage. Nobody paid attention to him. After unwinding the tightly bound pack and the attached lute on the floor, he took out a decently sized pipe and a bard's hat. From the ground, George stood up and faced the preoccupied audience. With a deep breath, George began softly on his pipe, but gradually, he was louder and louder. Although not perfect, the sweet music of his pipe whistled throughout the entire tavern and created a cheerier haze within the room. Soon, after through a few traditional tunes and some of his own compositions, it would be the lute and stories that would be next.

@Strange Rodent@Zaphander@Royaletutor59@YeetMeister

Skurr nodded in response to Monica's admonishment. It might be difficult under some conditions to rest his blood but he would do what he could. The women scattered to gather their belongings with a few remarks, but none of them said anything that demanded a verbal reply. The quiet returned. His thoughts returned as well.

Troublesome...

He stood up and stretched his body, one part at a time. Preparing to leave was easy, he was already done. His belongings were packed and he could carry them without difficulty. Though, he had a feeling that they probably wouldn't be done with this adventure in a single day. If the kind of creature that they were hunting was as easy to find as that, it would probably have long since been killed. It will likely be far more dangerous if they do find it within a single day.

That would mean that it was looking for a fight.

He gathered up his harpoons and spear, leaving the bag that contained the home related trinkets where it sat but pulling out a small pouch of dried fish and a small skin of water to take with him. He was a fisherman, if there were fish then there would be water and he would not go hungry or thirsty. His preparations were minimal and took only a few minutes. He was finished before all of the women had gotten out of earshot. Still, they would need time and he saw no reason to hurry. He left his shack and wandered the city for a short time, letting his thoughts wander as his bare feet whispered along the rough pavement.

The city was already in the midst of repairs and many were discussing improvements to the gate that had been broken through so easily. It wouldn't be so easy to improve the city's defenses, though. Stone couldn't be had locally, it had to be traded for at significant expense. That kind of trading involved the kind of money that a fisherman would never... ever see. It was a little encouraging that the people weren't all leaving. Some were, others weren't. Life goes on.

At length, he wandered over to the gate. He wasn't the first to arrive. It wasn't a surprise that another had made it before him, but the fact that it was the one who would need supplies the most did give Skurr a moment's pause. Crossing the intervening distance quietly and leaning against a convenient stone wall near where Monika sat with her book.

All that remained was to wait.

Though the boisterous crowd nearby did serve to draw his eye. Personal guards were easy to spot. It was ironic that they were in such a protective formation. True, they would stop any cutpurses from approaching their master but at that distance they would have little chance of intercepting any arrows. Clearly, they weren't really concerned about that possibility. Their master must not have many enemies.

Skurr's gaze was steady and calm, almost disinterested, but very keen. He knew well that many forms of danger would strike after a crisis and was highly alert to any signs of trouble.