As Marcie was positive with the gained attention, so did Kosara with the brief comments and compliment on her and V’s exquisitiveness. She also smiled ever more brightly, getting reminded of some of her sisters in mannerism from the owner of the Honey Barn. Maybe one day when the man they considered sort of father figure in the Caravan Stop retired, one of her sisters were going to take over and eventually bring it to something similar? Well unlikely given the difference in culture and dominant fashions, but Kosara could well see the future owner having similar attitude as this Halfling woman, especially if it was some of her sisters she had in mind.

“Well it’s a type of big… lyre’s the closest analog to it, I think?” Kosara mused aloud at the woman’s question about what the music instrument she was used to playing. Of course her main task was always the dancing. She had sisters who were more skilled in playing the instruments than herself and while she learned and on occasion played, she was almost always a dancer. Of course she missed playing at times. The ability to make music as you wished.” I would love to perform for you, Madam, if I get the chance.” She informed the woman with a huge smile on her face. Of course she loved to dance for people! Dancing was her life after all and she loved the activity very very much.:” I also know some massages that help with sore back and muscles, a bit of professional necessity!”

Kosara let out a slight blush at the compliment of her hair and nodded eagerly, waiting with utmost attention when the woman whispered the ‘secret’ of taking care of her hair in the north. Kosara’s eyes grew bigger and she immediately started nodding silently. Agreeing to keep the secret well.. a secret. Maybe she should do it too… back home she did it often enough because of baths and and what not. Here it wasn’t quite so… mostly cause it was cold. She very much missed the hot sands where you could take a bath and by completely alright to move about drenched in water. Could toss yourself into the oasis and be dry in matter of minutes. Though swimming in the oasis was kind of forbidden. Not that she hadn’t secretly done it when she was smaller.” Thank you, I will give it a try when I get the chance.” She whispered back.

“I think we need to settle in for longings since we arrived, but I’ll be sure to come to see if we cannot work together, Madam Marcie!” Kosara promised, waving energetically, as the woman excused herself to return to her tasks. Yeah it was indeed reminding her more of home despite how different it was. At least how Marcie was making it sound. If for nothing else she might just see if they can arrange a performance or two so she could enjoy a tiny slice of home away from home. That and she wondered what shows and performances they’ve got here. Maybe there was something they could make use of back home?

When they finally arrived at the Heyloft it certainly was a new experience for Kosara!” Ohhh!” She exclaimed and marvel when she saw the bales of hay that were about and quickly hurried over to them, patting htem a few times before concluding that YES they were going to make a fine enough bedding with the right additions. Like her bedroll on top of the hay, so she’s not laying directly on it. Cause she really had no idea where she’d get a bath afterwards if she slept directly onto the hay. Still she studied the surroundings more, taking in both the doors, where the lamp and the fire bowl were. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Kathryn seemingly consoling the younger girl. It was a very adorable sight actually. The big strong warrior princess trying to keep the tiny young girl from crumbling down.

Seeing it being done in the moment, Kosara quickly hopped over, but didn’t join in the hug.” Hey, Lizbeth, do you want to see how heroic Kathryn can look?” Kosara asked, creating a simple static palm sized illusionary image with Prestidigitation. Kind of how she did for the party when they just met. This time she did it of the warrior woman instead of herself so it looked like it was tiny figurine that was spinning in a music box. It was her attempt to distract the girl really. She even did a second prestidigitation to add some harmless sparkles over hte tiny illusionary image to make it look even more heroic.

Like Hugh, Marita was not inclined to share any information with the woman who could turn on them at any time for a variety of reasons, but unlike him she was literally not in a position to where she could opt out of the conversation in its entirety. Because she was helping Kathryn unload the wine she ended up being in proximity to the owner, so refusing to engage would at best be a massive faux pas even for someone like her, and at worst interpreted as an act of social aggression (which it would be). So she was glad that Madam Marcie and her were on the same page. She didn't like the establishment and what it represented, but she wasn't going to raise a stink about it if left unprovoked.

However, even though she had zero intention of entering the Honey Barn, a thought cropped up in her head. Madam Marcie seemed to be interested in the more welcoming half of the party for better or worse. If they were able to get on her good side, they would be able to leverage that to investigate the Honey Barn for leads if the need arose. This was rather middling on her list of priorities, but if they found themselves stuck or with some free time it would do well to check it out.

On the way to the Hayloft, Marita spent her time split between listening to Cecily, trying to figure out what they were going to do over the next week and very occasionally casting a glance over at Lizbeth. As much as it hurt to see a child in pain, she knew there was nothing she could reasonably do to help. At least not unsolicited. Even something as simple as suggesting that she or Victoria assist with funeral rites for the deceased could be interpreted as opportunistically attempting to turn a profit from the the situation, which went against the Path.

So after the makeshift tour had concluded, instead of sticking around to add onto the emotional support dogpile that Kathryn and Kosara were forming, Marita silently grabbed her things from the wagon and took them to the Hayloft to settle in. She'd wait until the others had finished before thinking about getting down to business.

"...hair the night off?" mused Victoria, her face tilted slightly to the side on some confusion. This was a riddle of some kind, she assumed. It didn't make sense otherwise. Or at all, so far as she was aware. This was an eccentric lady who ran a business that had a complicated standing with the locals, and she was being funny. That, or the Madame knew something that Victoria did not. But as this grand puzzle did not directly concern her, nor their mission so far as she was aware, the aubergine Bard let it drop.

Seeing as the mood of the hour had the rest of the party moving elsewhere, Victoria went along with this. But not before a quick farewell. There was no sense in using a her more diplomatic talents to establish a useful contact if they were just going to leave unceremoniously. "Thank you so much, Madame Marcie! I am ever on the search for exciting venues to perform within! And a little money never hurt anyone, either." The sudden mental image of pouring a handful of silver pieces into a sock and sapping out some poor bastard suddenly sprung up unbidden. Then loading a gold coin into a sling and pegging a city guard at fifteen paces. Then force-feeding a captive coppers until their belly lay distended, preventing any movement that didn't result in a wet jingling sound. She immediately pondered never using that phrase again. If utilized properly, a little money could indeed hurt someone. Waving, Victoria bid her, "I'm hopeful we'll meet again very soon," and turned to join the rest of the party.

Morty remained out of sight, for the most part, until Victoria issued a mental command for the smoky beast to heel. Unencumbered by the errand cart it usually pulled when not utilized in a more martial capacity, it more or less trotted its stiff-legged gait behind and slightly to the left of its master. Victoria opted to walk next to their borrowed wagon until they made it back to the street containing Bob's Public House, the hayloft, and the heretofore unmentioned stable ran by a man named Fields. Mild puzzlement flashed over her part-sylvan features, a glimmer of what she thought might have been recognition. It would have to wait for now.

Perhaps establishing their base of operations first was the best idea. A nondescript place for them to retreat back to, if necessary, or plot their random acts of nefariousness whilst they sharpen their knives. Of course Victoria didn't think that this would be the case exactly, but bardic license was a thing. Giving The Truth Scope was a popular descriptor, too. Actually entering the place was a sort of reveal - having expected a livestock barn with a loft they might use, Victoria was pleased to see that it was just a place to pick up and drop off hay whomever needed it, without the presence of animals whatsoever. They probably did good business with the stable across the way. Of particular note in this tidy little building was the block and tackle lift. This, Victoria went to immediately.

Getting her small pull-cart out of the back of their wagon was simple enough, laden down though it was with her travel chest and backpack. Both of these she placed on the lift, then making liberal use of the device to get her belongings to the floor above as the others saw to Lizbeth's comfort. She was a cute kid, Victoria had to admit. Even reminded her a little of a cousin. Lizbeth had seen more than a child her age should have seen and the wear upon her was showing. But call her selfish, Victoria used the opportunity of others being distracted to stow her gear.

Rather than make direct attempts to make the child feel better, Victoria addressed Cecily directly. Her words were soft, velvety, and filled with a sense of warm understanding. "Your father (in-law?)" She thought there was some mention of that earlier. "His bones did not deserve to be left where they were. I am not a Cleric and by no means do I speak on a deity's behalf. That said, if you would please allow me, I believe I can give him a proper, even poetic interment. This is my profession when I'm not in a mercenary Goblin-hunting group." The last part was spoken with a lilt, suggesting a touch of humor to buffer against the crushing seriousness of he occasion. "If I have your permission, I will need to know your family's faith, that I may respect the scene accordingly."

Cecily took a few seconds of consideration before finally sighing and responding, "The family follows Chauntea, mostly. Growers, you know. But..." She hesitated, as if a little embarrassed to continue, "...he wasn't very religious, but I think Papa L'Rose worshipped Lliira." Sudden seriousness came from Lizbeth, who locked eyes with her aunt even as the others tried to cheer her up. A conversation unheard might have passed between the two of them, and Cecily corrected herself, "No, you're right. It was Olidammara."

The second Victoria heard Cecily respond, she went to gather the canvas-wrapped bones of the deceased. She paused upon hearing the name of the final deity mentioned, package in hand. The strangest look crossed her face; part surprised and part amused. She knew of this deity. This was not one she would have suspected to come out of Cecily's mouth. Victoria put on as diplomatic a posture as she could, her mind trying to recall the specific celebratory rituals of Olidammara and responding,"Interesting. Unexpected to be sure, but very interesting, Mrs. L'Rose." All smiles and reassurances, Victoria related, "I can help you. Truly, I can. We're going to need more wine."

To Marita, Victoria asked quietly, "You're the godly one out of all of us, so... your input has a lot of weight, in my limited estimation. I can take care of this, if you want to start the investigation; we should be done before nightfall. What would you prefer?"

The information regarding the silversmith was little… but hardly unexpected. That aside, boarded up within the past week? Coincidence? Possibly. But the timing just seemed to tickle his interest. That avenue would bare some additional investigation if he had anything to say about it.

The rest of the group’s efforts to socially shmooze with Madame Marcie were either quite effective… or the latter was acting just as opportunistically in return. Between all the nonsense trivialities, it seemed that the Madame claimed to have no grudge and already offered options to settle the debt. Aside from that, there was little else to note.

Upon arriving at the loft, Hugh was pleasantly surprised to find that the structure was not a former stable, but instead merely hay storage. Overall, it appeared much tidier and more secure than he had been resigned to putting up with. Cecily’s mention of a “Mr. Fields” prompted him to utter, “Fields? Isn’t that the guy we’re supposed to pass our loaned cart off to?”

While Kathryn and the Tiefling set about attempting to comfort the child, he chose to join the Bard in scouting out and setting up his possible positions in the upper hayloft, an area he expected would be much safer if they ever had any surprise unwelcome visitors. Not to mention, it would be warmer than the lower floor.

After the Bard returned to the lower floor to inquire about funerary rites, Hugh settled on making his bed in the northern half of the upper loft, a secure position that should keep him nicely untargetable by arrows while sleeping. As an extra measure, he shoved and rolled a couple hay bales over and left a space between them, creating a cozy little makeshift shelter against both attacks and the cold. It was nothing fancy, but hopefully, it would be better than nothing if it came down to it.

Attempts to lighten up the mood of the girl weren’t going too smoothly so far, Kosara noted. She was really worried about what to do here! A child was not feeling good and she didn’t know how to make it better! It was NOT a good thing. If she was her grandpa, she’d have done something bigger and better to help fix the girl’s mood. However she wasn’t, so she and Kathryn would have to do this the old fashioned way, problem was that she had no idea what that way was! She was of half a mind to ask if Lizbeth wants to learn some curious skills. Maybe teach her some basic dances? Actually that had potential! Then her eyes glided over their cart and she suddenly had the thought of racing with that thing sneak it’s way back inside her head.

She suddenly halted and blinked in confused manner as the girl rather seriously stared at the older woman. The white teifling followed their eyes and noted them staring at each other for a bit, wow she could practically sense the unspoken seriousness here! Was this a skill? Can it be learned?” Hmm? “ She made a questioning sound as she heard names being thrown about. Names of gods and rose an eyebrow, making a really hard thinking face. There was a story here and she wondered what it was!

Then Kosara’s head did a sharp turn and looked at Hugh. She had nearly forgotten their Fancy Sneaky Monk friend because of the veritable excitement since arrival! He was sneaky as his title implied indeed! Also smart!” You’re right! Think we can drop the mule off for the evening? I am sure Mr. Mule’s tired from puling the cart the entire day! Mr Mule was so hungry he tried to attack that Cabbage Cart earlier after all! We should make sure he gets fed properly.” All in all the party’s situation was decent. They had a roof over their heads, they had transport, job opportunities and most importantly a place to explore! All the possible things lurking about to be discovered! Though, just as her mind was wandering away on merry treasure hunts and possible glorious adventures, she realized there was still Lizbeth and dragged her attention back to the matters at hand.

After they separate from Cecily and Lizbeth, they were going to be free to go on with their own devices. Kosara planned to make use of the time and opportunity then. For now though, there were still young girls to try cheering up! If it didn’t work, HUGs were going to do it. Hugs always do it!

The momentary burst of seriousness from Lizbeth faded back into what one might expect from a little girl who lost her grandfather. The notes of moisture returned to her eyes and a quiet, sullen demeanor encompassed the whole of her, from expression to posture. The calm reassurance that the adults would handle things did not alleviate the grief of her loss. The Prestidigitation gave her the beginnings of a smile, but the subject matter confused her as to its relevance to the current situation, even if she was not consciously processing this thought. Little Lizbeth's eyes darted from Kosara to Kathryn, then back. "So you two are, like, really good friends?" Though clouded by a haze of welling emotion, her words seemed to hint at something she wasn't openly vocalizing.

Cecily heard the exchange between Hugh and Kosara, such as it was, and mentioned, "Mr. Fields used to work at Fort Darenby, like I said. I hear he has an arrangement with the Sheriff. I'm going there in a minute to leave my oxen. I'm sure Lizbeth can handle your mule, unless you want to handle him yourself."

Content to break away from the attention, Lizbeth made her move over to the wagons, intent to conform to her aunt's wishes and make herself useful. A little something to keep her hands busy and mind focused wasn't a bad thing, either. "Do you want to keep your wagon in the loft or at Mr. Fields's place?" she politely asked to no one in particular.

The words of Victoria rolled around in the elder Mrs. L'Rose's brain for a moment or two following their brief back-and-forth about family deities and possible plans for interment. "Thank you. I would rather this take place sooner, so I shall be back in a few minutes, after the oxen are handed over." She appeared to have noticed something about the bard, suddenly mentioning, "You have a hole in your sleeve, young lady. I can take care of that for you, if you like." If nothing else, she seemed to want to be helpful.

The Public House, quite nearby, is still brimming with business. No one seems to have taken any note of the comings and going of the travelers in and around the hayloft, engrossed in their own business, or more likely, their own festivities. From somewhere inside a song breaks out which is quickly taken up by a chorus of many novice voices, resulting in a blur of oft conflicting syllables only recognizable as a song because of the verbal cadence. Nevertheless, the people in and around Bob's seem in good spirits.

The Fields Stable, also quite nearby, is less busy. The building itself looks to be an open warehouse type of location with a small farrier's smithy setup in the front. Within, one can see lines of individual stable stalls and a wide open section in the back, all of which is plainly visible because of the open nature of the front and the wide, barn-like doors far in the back left open for light and air to circulate. Despite the lack of business relative to the bustling Pub in the vicinity, it seems a cheerful enough spot as casual glance.

It is still daylight, not quite suppertime yet but definitely after one might take Tea; shadows lengthening upon the ground on account of the sun making its usual path across the mostly clear sky. The wind has picked up a little, blowing moderate gusts which contain a note of autumn chill; while not freezing, it certainly is not the most comfortable. The attire of the average person about the streets reflects this as coats and cloaks are the norm, quality and cut reflecting the various social strata of the Township.

The real movement is back up the street from which you came, back toward the main north/south thoroughfare. Now that things are quieter on the end of the militia which was gathered there at the point in time of the party's arrival, foot and vehicle traffic from the people set up outside of the high log walls has resumed. The building festival atmosphere is palpable.

Kosara came to assist in her attempts to make the young girl feel better about her rough situation. Though she seemed to be a bit distracted from her rough emotions Kathryn didn't think she felt all that much better. Kathryn wished she knew how to help the girl, But Kathryn wasn't the best at grieving herself. Even with Ser Lucas, she had spent the weeks following his death in a pub with enough beer to give the town drunks looks of concern. If the girl had been older Kathryn may have offered to take her to a pub herself to let her drink her feelings away while someone was with her to make sure things didn't go too far. But she was a child. Sir lucas when Kathryn went through her worst had built her up, and let her challenge her emotions into a will to fight that rivaled any competent fighter. Kathryn needed that to survive, but Lizbeth? She had more options to her name. Following Kosara's rather epic illusion Lizbeth spoke up. Kathryn found herself caught off guard. Friends? Kathryn pondered how to answer the question, but she figured the girl didn't need much of a glimpse of Kathryn over thinking the situation. "We met pretty recently, but I think so yeah." She found that friendly interest in all of her new party, though some seemed to be more open to the idea then others. Kathryn looked at the small girl some more. "Is there... something else on your mind?" Then something clicked for Kathryn. She had a rather shocked expression on her face her eyes going extremely wide with the realization. "Oh no no no uh... we're friends but.... not like that it's like uh... friend friends? Not... Friends like that." Kathryn gave the young girl an awkward smile.

This wasn't the first time something like that had happened, but it made Kathryn feel just as awkward every time. Each time she'd look back and think how silly it was considering the kinds of situations she could handle, and anything along those lines made her feel weird none the less. "Lizbeth?" Kathryn's tone went to a more serious direction. "Make sure to take care of yourself, and if you ever need anything come find us. Alright?" Kathryn wished she knew how better to help the girl. But she wasn't her family, and she didn't know how well to take care of those in grief outside of her own solutions for herself. She wished she could do more, but for now she wanted Lizbeth to know that she had people she could go to if need be.

Though she wished she could comfort the girl all night, she still had a job to do. And if things got too out of hand many others could be at risk too. Kathryn didn't have a strong preference for the wagon, she wasn't sure what use it would have without their mule present, but if there was a use she was overlooking she didn't want to step on anyone's toes. But as Kosara pointed out, the Mule would need to be taken care of either way, so returning them to the stables and Mr Fields seemed like a good thing to do. Kathryn debated where to start her side of the investigation. They had a lead in the public house, and Kathryn had the means to get her foot in the door in the Honey Barn. Her own issues were her own direct investigation skills were pretty entry level and needed work. As they had a more solid lead in the public house though, Kathryn figured she'd start there. Even in the Honey Barn, she at best likely could only turn it into the same kind of lead as the public house. And their missing Audrey. "I'm going to see what I can find out at the public house." She tried to be subtle about her intentions so that any unwanted listeners wouldn't get the context. "Anyone who wants to join, feel free." They had a sizeable enough party where if they needed to split up they could. But going together they could be more detailed. They had options none the less.

Despite the crowded streets and in the public house had broken out into song. Though Kathryn wasn't able to place any of the words she couldn't help but finding herself humming along with the crowd as the tune went on. If it wasn't for the job at hand this would be a rather fun celebration to be apart of, and Kathryn wished she could take more personal time to enjoy it. But lives were at stake here.

Marita had decided to stay on the ground floor. Staying on the top floor had its benefits, but the convenience of not relying on a lift to move up and down to where her things were was more valuable than one might think. Not to mention that if they suddenly needed to leave due to the building catching fire or the like, it was less likely for her to be trapped and she wouldn't have to jump out from a window. Granted, the chances of a fire breaking out was miniscule at most, but the possibility popped up unbidden when she was considering places to unpack. The cleric simply found an open spot near a corner and laid out her bedroll. It would have to do in this early frost.

It was mid-unrolling that Victoria asked her almost for permission to go along to perform funeral rites. She was surprised Victoria would do this, if Marita were in her position she would have gone ahead and just proceeded with the funeral since she had gotten it to that point. Not to mention that even though she was the most overtly devoted member of the party, and had been trained in various forms of common use rituals out of necessity her forte wasn't in something like funerals. If anything Victoria was, from her perspective the bard was more of the expert in this situation.

"You can go ahead. I doubt that we'll be able to get anything else significant done before then anyway. If anything happens while you're gone I'll let you know." Marita finished settling her things and joined the others to discuss the cart and what to do in the immediate future as prompted by Kathryn.

"We were directed to bring the wagon to Fields, so we should follow through with that if for no other reason than to demonstrate to our employer that we can follow orders." Not to mention that they won't have to care for the beast, deal with its filth and have more room for themselves in the hayloft.

"I'll go along with Kathryn to the Public House, Victoria is going to help bury the deceased. Kosara, Hugh, I think the township should be safe enough that you could potentially split off and see what else the festival has to offer you can. That said, going alone is probably no-good. As a general guideline I think while we're here we should always travel at least as a pair. There's a lot of strangers in town and I'm certain there are those with less scruples among them. Any problems with that proposal?"

Vanity was a trait of Victoria's. Pride in her appearance, maybe even skirting upon (but not quite) excessive was certainly part of her personality, so the offer from Cecily to repair her garment was taken with polite, reserved gusto. "That is amazingly kind of you. Thank you, really. I'll have it ready by the time you get back from the stable." To Marita, Victoria just nodded. This was the plan now, apparently. She would do her thing, and try to meet up later. Circumstances permitting, of course. If something changed, maybe even just her mind, this would have to be reassessed at that time.

Victoria rested the canvas bundle containing a mostly intact human skeleton in her small pull-cart and gave a mental command to her ever faithful companion, Morty, to take up the rope. It occurred to the Half-Human lady of Sylvan features that this would be the first time she utilized one dead thing to transport another. A second of consideration for the faith of the departed crossed her mind, until she reminded herself that the faith in question was to Olidammara. Of all the deities, he was the least likely to give a rat's swollen hindparts whatsoever.

A shrug upon her shoulders and a song in her heart, Victoria ascended the stairs, beck up to her belongings and a speck more privacy then the downstairs. She gave some thought to closing the doors in the upper loft (or would those be windows?) but ultimately decided that expedience had a higher priority to modesty. So she quickly removed her tastefully studded leather armor and her slim, purple coat, to again reveal the black silks beneath. Her travel chest was her next stop. From this she acquired a black waistcoat with a high collar and slipped it over her shoulders, followed by a flowing length of light, purple fabric which she tied into something of a cravat. Past this the ceremonial Bard went into her cosmetics and touched a few things up, but mainly applied a grey preparation around her eyes and onto her cheeks, giving the faintest appearance of a mourning and death. Not that such an application detracted from her own charming sense of charisma, but it did seem to fit a festival atmosphere. Maybe not this festival, but surely one of them. As a precaution, she rightly rearmored.

Satisfied, Victoria climbed back down the ladder with her damaged coat and bid a silent command for Morty to follow. She made it outside in time to see Cecily and Lizbeth return. Neither had anything to say about her new appearance nor the means by which the dead person's remains would be transported. Her violin case hung from her back, anxious fingers waiting to bring it back out as soon as they were clear of the bulk of the people around them. "After you, Mrs. L'Rose. It is only fitting that you lead this procession, even if it is just the three of us now." The older lady began to mention something or another about compensation, but Victoria raised a finger to her own lips to request silence on the matter. "You have promised to fix my jacket. And I have already received compensation for my efforts. This is all we need discuss on the matter. Please, after you."

Resigned to this course of action, the three of them, Victoria, Cecily, and Lizbeth, began the walk to the center of town and to the east, out to where the graveyard stood.

The party began splitting up to sort out their situation. Victoria was helping the L'Rose family, and Marita had decided to accompany Kathryn to the public house. Bringing up that it's not a good idea for anyone in the party to go alone, Kathryn appreciated the backup. The biggest worry Kathryn had about pairing up with Marita Bärbel was that the woman had a very strict all business way to go about her... well Business. Though Kathryn respected the woman for that regard she had to admit, that level of professionalism was not something Kathryn was used too. But in that same regard, Kathryn wasn't used to traditional investigation work. Most of what she knew she picked up from Ser Lucas and his drinking buddies. Which consisted of drunken ramblings at best.

The public house was a chaotic yet appealing situation. The downside to the situation was that it took Kathryn a rather long time to find Robert. And worse yet with how busy things were it would take several moments to not only get the man's attention, but to get the man into conversation. Looking around the only other set of hands on deck was this poor woman who was working her damnedest to keep things on her end held together. "Hi uh, Robert right? We met briefly while helping Ms. L'Rose drop off her casket of wine. I wondering if I could ask you some questions? You see I was hired to help handle the goblin problem and after witnessing the events of today I was wondering if Audrey's disappearance had something to do with my current job."

Roberts sneering face gave Kathryn uneasy feelings about the situation. His reply didn't help matters either. "Audrey? Girl has a mouth on her. The last time anyone saw that ungrateful wench was after she left here for the night. I haven't seen her in this pub since. You want to chase Goblins? Fine. You want to stay here while you do it, you'd better be spending money." The man clearly had a poor opinion of the woman. Kathryn took a few things from his statement though, she talks a lot, maybe the disappearances are witnesses to something? And her last sighting was after her shift, hopefully meaning that the window she went missing was rather small. Either way, there was a witness.

Kathryn pulled out two silver pieces. "Okay then. The biggest beer two silver can buy." An idea struck Kathryn, maybe one that could peak the barkeep. And one where even if it did work, having someone sober to make sure things didn't get out of hand was a good idea. The idea as a whole was rather flimsy, but it was one of Kathryn's strong suits. "Here's a proposition for you. A drinking contest. No one spends more then a drunk man trying to get a free drink." She thought back on the wording, and realized it made no sense. "Let me rephrase. I'll challenge anyone here to a drinking contest, the loser pays the winner's tab. That'll make some decent coin no?" Kathryn thought about how to make this work. "Enough to hopefully buy a moment of your time hopefully?" She could take a drink better then most, so if she got a couple free drinks and some useful information it sounded like a pretty good win. "Drunk men enjoy a good gamble. What better then a good drinking match?" The man spoke one language. Money, Kathryn's budget for bribery was limited, but a chance to make some good business? She could offer that.

“Yep we are! REALLY GOOD friends!” Kosara pipped up in response to Lizbeth’s question and Kathryn’s hurried hushed denials, using the same intonation they were using, it seemed fun. The tiefling saw absolutely no reason to deny it! Friends they were and she considered them real good ones already! What was the issue with it that Kathryn was seeing, the dancer couldn’t rightly place. She tossed the huge woman a curious glance.” We are really good friends, right? Whats the issue? There are other types of friends?” She asked, pondering what Kathryn meant. There was a distinct dissonance in the white tiefling’s mind between the different meanings of the word ‘friends’. Mainly that she knew only one meaning… or her mind only allowed that one meaning.

When the girl moved to leave, Kosara waved.” Bye, Lizbeth.” Kosara smiled, watching the girl go make herself busy. Kosara in turn decided it was time to confirm her own sleeping arrangements for the night. She was planning on sleeping on the second floor. Or maybe near the fire and light sources in the hayloft. Though thinking about it, up on the second floor with hay as cushion and her bedroll or her blanket over it, it would be a truly new experience! Though she was wondering where they could get a chance to wash or bathe. Did this place has communal baths at least or would they need to find a room in a tavern just for that?

So while Kosara was busy setting her bedroll and other sleeping arrangements on a nice pile of hay upstairs, she followed the conversation turning to what to do now.” Ohh… yes!” She chimed from above when it when Marita mentioned that it should be safe enough to wander about to her and Hugh.” Hey, Hugh, want to go explore the town?” She called out to the very fancy and very sneaky monk as she finished her preparations and headed downstairs again, bringing her bag with her, having left only the bedding behind. More space in her bag and it was lighter now! She would be capable of neatly collecting stuff!

“I’m thinking of checking the markets! I want to see what this festival’s all about! And if there’s something of note happening, it’s likely to happen at the markets where people gather! Evil folks, dastardly schemes, underhanded means! We can also swing by that walled municipal building! It seemed to hold secrets, I want to check it again!” She let out a childish laughter as she practically skipped out of the hayloft.” So we go together or split? I might go back to the Honey Barn later in the evening, or most certainly tomorrow. Madam Marcie seemed to have work and I want to talk with the girls there. They will know all the latest gossip!”

Hugh generally observed. Looking back on it, he’d felt somewhat out of his depth this last little while, likely due to the fact that this situation was so divorced from his normal manner of approach. He’d done a fair amount more talking than he was used to as of late. In fact…

Hugh unscrewed one of his waterskins and took a long, slow pull from the contents, sighing in satisfaction at a freshly wet throat.

He’d been making a mistake perhaps, doing this, taking such an active role. The mission was important, but then again, he could likely complete it on his own. What did he care how these strangers risked their lives recklessly, so long as that didn’t threaten his own? Perhaps he considered the general loss of life a waste, despite his profession? True enough. But he couldn’t allow himself to be concerned over saving those that were too unwise to succeed or survive.

So, he was more than comfortable slipping back into the role he’d hoped to take from the start, a quiet, observant role. He’d allow others to do the talking where he could. After all, they didn’t seem entirely incompentent. His job was to focus more on seeing what they missed and infiltrating places the flashier ones couldn’t go. Staying out of the spotlight, ensuring that the fewest number of people possible associated his name and face with the rest of the group was better for his overall ability to operate unhindered.

The civilians would be delivering the carts to a proper stable. He considered going with them and then dismissed the idea. Meanwhile, Kathryn and Marita would be heading to the inn. On the one hand, he was more socially adept than either of them. On the other, that put a large portion of the group in a very public place and attached his face to theirs in front of a large crowd. And besides which, if the two of them screwed things up, he could just give it his own shot afterwards and afford the group a second try.

No, going to the tavern was not the way. Rather, he was far more concerned with the Bard being unguarded. Despite how frivolous her task was, she was unquestionably committed to it, and accompanied only by two civilians to an assumedly deserted place, she was vulnerable. Like her or not, throwing such a useful cog away and dismissing her value in combat out of pettiness was beneath him. It was only a single funeral on the first day. Ultimately, he lost little by being cautious and ensuring she was alive and useful for the rest of the mission.

Their mission was compromised. It was so easy to forget this important, absolute fact. Everyone else had seemingly dismissed the issue, but Hugh’s hackles were still quite thoroughly raised.

Someone wanted to disrupt this quest. Assassins were not even slightly off the table, and he would be a fool to dismiss the possibility of their appearance at any time. So, as Victoria went to meet the returning civilians and the Tiefling barraged him with options, Hugh shook his head.

“That’s all well and good, preferable even,” he sighed, “but I will be keeping watch over the funeral and our Bard. No sense putting her at risk, when we know for a fact that this mission has been compromised from the start.” Rolling his jaw, he frowned and spoke quietly enough to avoid the potential prying ears of the others. “You’re best off going with Kathryn. We both know that I don’t like you, for better or worse. You’re the type of person that grates at me the most, but I can acknowledge your savvy in social matters… something our more well-armored fellows don’t have. In a rowdy tavern, I think you’ll shine well enough to cover for any egregious missteps on their part.” Sighing, he finished, “Just don’t go anywhere alone, is what I’m saying, at the end of it all. You can come along, and I’d be alright with investigating those places afterwards -assuming we have time, but I think you’re best placed with them.” He gave a brief nod towards the armored among them and then set off to join Victoria silently.

With the fiscal day coming to a close, the festive evening had picked up. Traffic into and out of the Township became more fluid; more of a two-way give and take between the good times within the walls and the campsites outside of them. There is an increased number of guards at each gate - four instead of the usual two - but what most people inside the walls will see is a reduced guard presence. Not that anyone seems to care as the majority of people have a jovial attitude all around. The locals, however, can be spotted by their somewhat darkened expression, like they all have the same secret worry despite the celebratory actions in which they engage.

The Public House of Neil and Bob is brimming with activity. Their one remaining barmaid is definitely earning her tips this evening. There are far too many customers for her to keep up with everyone, and so she sticks to just the round tables in the center of the main room. The scene at the bar is busy, coming and going in waves as the bulk of the patrons come up to get their glasses and tankards refilled. A large slate sign behind the bar bears thick, chalk marks, proclaiming not just a reduction in menu variety due to being understaffed, but also a reduction in price for the festival. If one is hungry, the only thing available is mutton stew with in-season vegetables and dark, grainy bread. Drinks seem to be limited to beers, wines (two house wines, a red and a white, plus the Rose River Fortified Zinnoberrot, sold at a markup), and a tiny few selections of whiskies which aren't getting much exposure. There is a simple but amply sized stage tucked in the right-hand corner of the main room, just as one enters the establishment; at the moment it stays unused, except as a place for two or three people to sit upon its edge and sip ale. Suffice it to say, this is more of a local watering hole than an upper class establishment.

Bob himself seems happy enough, even if none of the joy reaches his eyes. He doesn't much bother keeping a tally of his income as the people pay for their drinks, just giving it enough attention to see that enough has been forked over before sweeping it either behind the bar or temporarily into an apron pocket.

When he comes around to Kathryn, bob scoffed once and fetched a decent sized pitcher from behind the bar. He moved over to a large barrel and cranked the tap, allowing a foamy, reddish lager to pour into the sizeable container. He is a professional, making sure that every bit of two silvers get into the pitcher before shutting off the spigot. It hovered in his grasp over the bar until Kathryn's money hit wood and the hand pulled away. "Yeah, I remember you. You can have your drinking contest; makes no nevermind to me who pays, long as someone does. But if you think some outsider's going to corner me into an interrogation because of beer I would've sold anyway, well... I'm not as stupid as you think I am." He seemed very sure of himself.

The procession going to the graveyard consisted of Cecily L'Rose, Lizbeth, Victoria, Morty (bearing the pull-cart of canvas wrapped bones), and now Hugh bringing up the rear. Getting onto the main road leading north to the town's center was an easy enough task - Cecily waited for a gap, grabbed her niece's hand, and strode assertively into the masses. Following was also simple. It was almost impossible not to as people gathered along the side of the road, went the opposite direction on the other side, and pressed onward behind them.

This forward progression was slow but steady as the crowd seemed to move at a more casual pace. An individual might traverse this more quickly, weaving about and muttering the occasional "excuse me" but a group attempting to stay together was at a disadvantage for more hurried motion. It was especially dense around the more arboreal area near the city center. Movement slowed to an ambling walk the closer one got to the expanding field of centrally placed cobblestones, prompting serious consideration on finding an alternative route to the east gate.

Up ahead of the press of festival goers, in the center proper, the sounds of dance and merriment could be heard. Whether it was a show being put on, an event of some kind, or merely the same type of celebration as the last time the group passed through (albeit more active due to the hour) remained to be seen.

Before leaving with Kathryn, Marita had a quick change of clothes. Although she had been traveling around the township proudly donning her clerical garb all day and would continue to do so for most of her time, it felt like her being in her usual dress while attempting to conduct an inquisition would draw too much attention to herself and put people too much on guard. At least in the context of a pub in the middle of a festival. So for the first time that the party would see, Marita changed into something approaching casual wear. It was a long flowing gown that was a patterned with soft silvery blues atop a deep crimson. She still had her mail on underneath as a precaution, but she'd leave the shield and weapon behind in the barn. The convenient thing about chain was how lightweight it was, it didn't even show through the gown unless pulled taut. If they ran into unexpected trouble she'd have to rely on her spellcasting, but she had enough left in the tank that she was confident leaving it at that.

When they got to the Public House, Marita opted to stay back and watch Kathryn and the bar rather than immediately take action. This was the half-giant's idea in the first place. However, now that they had finally gotten to the actual investigation phase of this inquisition, Marita found herself feeling... nervous? No, that wasn't it. Uncertain on what exactly she should be doing. The clerical inquisitions she had seen or taken part in were much simpler. Get the required paperwork to do what needed to be done in a given location, present the forms in person to scour for whatever needed to be found, perhaps arrest some people and interrogate them, rinse and repeat until you've resolved the issue or run out of leads. Of course there was more to it than that, but having to gather information from a place of powerlessness and secrecy was not her forte. And neither was it Kathryn based on Bob's reaction to her approach of simply barging in and asking nicely.

Marita looked around the pub and through the clamor and merrymaking how absolutely stressed and overworked both the owner and his one employee were. No wonder he wasn't in a cooperative mood, he barely has time to conduct his business and someone starts asking him 20 questions. If she were in his place, she probably wouldn't have been as nice as he.

Suddenly, an idea popped in her head on how to kill two birds with one stone. She approached the bar next to Kathryn and got Bob's attention with a loud throat clear.

"I can't help but notice you're quite short on manpower. I can help you out for the night with waitressing. Try as best as she can, I don't think your only maid will be able to make it through the shift without someone getting upset at the speed of service and causing a scene." Having to speak over the noise of the crowd, she ended up sounded even more forceful than usual, but given the situation Bob didn't seem to care too much.

"You want to work? Fine. You'll work for tips. Talk to Lea," Robert motioned to the beleaguered young lady dashing from table to table, "she'll tell you what's what. And don't you be drinking my good stuff." Tapping the side of his nose, he gave the grave intonation, "I'll know."

Marita flashed a look at Kathryn before leaving to go find Lea. She could only hope that her teammate would be able to make progress in her own way. The cleric wove through the tables to find Lea and tapped her on the shoulder.

"Hello, I'm Marita. I'm here to help you out for the shift. Bob said you'll 'tell me what's what.'" A terrible feeling crept up from the pit of her stomach, she hoped she hadn't accidentally bit off more than she could chew by offering help like this.

Annoyance came first. The eternal extrovert that Victoria was, it was a fact that the overabundance of people milling about her and the procession she was with prevented her from getting to where she wanted to go. Being just a few inches over five feet tall, the less vertically challenged Humans prevented her from getting a clear look ahead of them. The nearer to the town square they moved, the slower they seemed to go. So getting back to that emotion, Victoria was annoyed. At least no one seemed to mind Morty. If they did, no one said a word.

Beyond the general impatience of the moment, they were without one of the usual items necessary for proper funerary dedication to Olidammara. The thought was to pick up some wine on the way to the graveyard, but with how busy the town seemed right then, doubt crept in. When they had come to a near standstill with unseen fun stuff just ahead, Victoria knew that she had to do something. Perhaps there was a way that she could turn this difficulty into an asset. Her wheelhouse was people after all. Mostly the live ones, too. There were plenty of those around.

A sigh exhaled from Victoria's lips as an expression of resolve tightened her features. She unslung her violin and carefully lifted her bow to the strings. The instant a note resonated from within the belly of the acoustically crafted wood and escaped into the greater world around them, a smile graced Victoria's visage. Nigh joyous brightness shone in her eyes, crystal blue points contrasting the darker, more macabre markings on her face. The second note came, a louder, drawing sound which caught the attention of those around the tiny procession. More notes began to pile upon the first two, adding into a progressive melody greater then the sum of its parts, taking attention away from the town's center and to the Bard herself.

Her appearance was exotic for this Township, her music brimming with passion and talent. Initial steps of a lively dance encouraged people to shuffle back a pace or two, but not move so far as to get away from the upbeat, musical woman. Some even began to clap their hands or stamp their boots in cadence to the song, such as it was. The townsfolk of, and visitors to, the Township of Avonshire proper needed very little in the way of encouragement to act in a manner of joyous, harmonious frivolity. This resulted in a crowd doing its best to move out of the young Half-Elf's way, parting before her and closing again behind the funerary procession. Victoria moved up to join Cecily, keeping a pace behind her and to the side as this was her funeral march to lead, even if it was to more upbeat music than usual. Maybe not for Olidammara, but this was guesswork.

What was even more interesting was that Victoria's gambit to get freer movement got the group followers. With the idea that this was another side event in the overall festival, the Bard began to "Pied Piper" the people of Avonshire in the wake of the errand cart containing the remains of the deceased Mr. L'Rose. Unexpected as it might have been, it did lead to them making amazing time. They cut seamlessly through the town center, where music and food was to be had, and to the main thoroughfare leading east, out of town.

Before they had gotten too far, Victoria paused her music and addressed the crowd gathered around them all: "Good people! Good people of Avonshire! This night of thankfulness for a successful harvest is spotted by a moment of grief for some of your own. Your man, L'Rose, of the Rose River Vineyard, is to be interred this very evening, and by his wishes we praise the Roguish God of Wine and Works Most Clandestine, Olidammara!" A few cheers, some clapping, and a few questioning faces met her very gothic-looking gaze. She raised her violin once more to play, but first spoke, "This is a touch impromptu and rather hastily assembled, so the bereaved were not quite as prepared as they would like. But communities come together, yes? Help in times of need? People of differing faiths standing proudly under the same banner of societal unity? So I guess what I really want to ask is..." Pause for effect, watch the anticipation of what might be said next grow, then, "...might you all spare a lady some wine?" The inquiry came with a charming, mischievous smile playing across her face that colored her words intrinsically, and then a sly wink to hammer it home.

By the time the music began again, cheers rose all around and the procession continued with complete strangers joining them, many doing what they might to secure the finest of available vintages on the way out. A religious service done for the God of Rogues and Roguishness was a rarity in this part of the country; between that and the call of excellent music, this was a thing to witness.

Still, not one soul seemed to notice, or say anything about Morty, who kept mindlessly following Victoria's mental prompting onward.

“I see, I see.” Kosara nodded at his statement that he barely stood her presence.” Alrighty then, Sneaky Hugh, have fun!” The tiefling told him. She watched as the man moved away with the Bard and with Marita and Kathryn already off on their adventure, this left Kosara with a very distinct lack of companions. She briefly pondered doing as Hugh suggested and following her friends to join on their merry adventure in the bar expanses, however as she made her way outside the hayloft and stopped to look around, her steps instead took her in entirely different direction… Well not Entirely, but she wasn’t heading to follow the Warrior and the Cleric.

What Kosara did instead was quickly and joyfully skip along to the Farmers’ Market where earlier she had gotten wind of Talent Competition! That was a thing to see! Besides ‘farmer’s market’, suggested the possibility of all manner of farming produce to be present and the dancer as the born and raised in the desert type, didn’t have much experience with those. Naturally she wanted them ALL recorded in her journals! There was also that thing she vaguely recalled being called “Hog Broiling Competition”. Now THAT she had to see, hopefully she wouldn’t have missed everything, but even if she did, she was certain there would be more than enough things to entertain herself with before she decides to move on. Then she’d probably visit the other market…. For even more curios!

Getting back to the Farmer’s Market wasn’t hard. In fact she realized it was one of the biggest parts of the city. How much space it took exactly, she wasn’t sure, however it was a lot. This brought the curious question if this was normal for a city this size to have a market that big, but then again they did say this was the capital and trading hub of the area. In any case, place was just as she recalled from earlier today. In other words – bustling with life! People were everywhere, there were things everywhere and the noise of life filled the very air! It was noisier than quite a few taverns’ she’s been at. The sheer number of people present and talking seemed to have been gradually building up effect. Kosara was thus happy! There was merriment in the air and she wanted to be part of it, so she happily skipped ahead forward deeper into the bustling Farmer’s Market.

Kathryn's ideas hadn't panned out anywhere close to what she wanted. On the plus side, she had her rather large beer in hand now. But beer alone could not solve her case. "Sir, I don't think you're stupid at all. I just want an outcome that benefited us both." She lifted the beer in emphasis. "Thank you for this by the way!" She spoke with a cheerful tone as if this was nothing more then a game and even losing was still fun. Once he left to serve other customers Kathryn turned and sighed. "_Balls..." She mumbled as she debated her next approach.

Kathryn saw Marita work out a deal with Bob to assist for the night, and she then took the time to help the barmaid. Pretty good plan overall, something which Kathryn debated herself, but it appeared she wore out her welcome pretty fast with Robert. She turned again to see if this was the case, but the man appeared too guarded and busy to cooperate with Kathryn much more. She debated going right to the barmaid to pick up work like Marita, but worried about putting too much pressure on the girl and messing up Marita's approach to things. Kathryn decided she still needed to be close in case things went south, but she couldn't risk compromising Marita's approach.

Massive beer in hand, Kathryn made her way to a comfortable seat in the middle of the room. For now, Kathryn figured she could at least keep an eye out for suspicious characters. People eyeing Marita and herself, or keeping an eye out for someone eyeing one of the other patrons. Someone who may be another soon to be victim of the disappearances. If no one stood out over time maybe she could get another shot with Robert as the place slowed down. Taking a large sip of her beer she sighed in frustration. She was out of her element, and events like this showed that rather clearly.

The last light of the day turned the sky to a soft, dusky collection of orange, red, and purple hues. The temperature dropped noticeably once the sun found its way to the horizon, but at least the wind had the common decency to quiet down somewhat. It stands at about 47^oF (8^oC) and will likely drop further once night sets in more fully. To add a little more ambience to the evening, a low fog has formed, fortified by the presence of the lake and river nearby. Inside of the walls of Avonshire this makes for an interesting glow, set off by the various light sources that come with Human and Halfling civilization, even if it does reduce vision at a distance. Outside of the walls, such as the location of the cemetery, the fog makes life a little more interesting. A blanket of atmospheric white concentrates low, laying lazily about bushes and headstones, though there is plenty all around to make details fuzzy at more than a handful of meters.

One saving grace to this is a moon that stands nearly full; a waxing gibbous that will very soon become the last full moon in the Autumn harvest season. Past this, the coming of winter is a pressing matter of time. In any case, nighttime's lunar companion is big and bright enough that it assists the Township's light sources to hold the dark away well enough, and provides dim illumination to the lands outside of the walls in addition to the last of the fading twilight. This will become darkness in fairly short order.

The party finds itself in three different places around Avonshire Township: Neil & Bob's, the Farmers' Market, and the Cemetery. The first two are (more or less) safely within town, the latter is outside of town to the east, right next to the forest. Let's begin.


As Marita approached Lea, the overworked barmaid plastered a bright and cheerful look on her face and prepared to give her best "what can I get you, sweetie?" speech. The words died in her throat as Marita mentioned giving her assistance. Immediately, the facade dropped, a look of growing fatigue replacing it though with a touch of gratitude mixed in the details. "Oh, thank Grace for you, then. I haven't had any help for a while now." Her shoulders slumped and she allowed for a moment of weakness to show before mustering what remained of her resolve.

"Do you have any experience? Nevermind, it doesn't matter. We're only serving stew and bread tonight. They ask for ale, bring them the house stuff unless they want something specific, then tell Robert, he'll handle it. Same for wine. Clear tables, take the stuff to the back room. Daisy will wash and stack for you. Aside from that, just keep up. Take um... those tables there." She pointed to a cluster of four tables nearest the door, barely visible in its entirety through the people moving about the bar. "If you need help, ask. Oh! and if anyone gets too handsy, don't be afraid to 'accidentally' spill something. I'll back you up. Thank you so much for this! We'll split tips later!" Lea scurried back to her duties, which in this case involved unloading empties from a recently abandoned table and wiping it down for the next knot of thirsty festival goers.

In the back, a lone Halfling woman of early adult years stood upon a stool, scrubbing out a series of bowls and stacking them to dry. Barrels of house ale and wine were clearly marked and actively tapped, and the barrel of Fortified Zinnoberrot rested on its side upon two sawhorses, their rigid crossbeams carved to nestle the curvature of the huge barrel. Daisy was a lady of few words, cleaning and organizing as she went along, looking almost as run down as Lea.

Considering how busy the Public House was, it was a stone solid miracle that Kathryn was able to find an unoccupied table toward the middle of the room. Happenstance put this as the very table that Lea had just finished clearing and wiping down, and the fact that Kathryn was able to snag such prime tavern real estate earned her some ire. Far be it for this to go completely unchallenged, after a few moments of sitting alone, the (sort of) Half-Giant saw a trio of locals staring in her direction and speaking amongst themselves. One had a smile, one a scowl, and the last a fairly ambitious look about his face. All were Human, male, and bore the look of laborers of some sort out for a night on the town.

When they noticed that they had been spotted, the ambitious one tapped the scowling one's shoulder with purpose and pointed them all toward Kathryn's table. "Big girl, ain't ya?" he said when they arrived. He did not look overly impressed by the implements of warfare adorning the Fighter's person. "Rough and tumble type. Look, there's only one of you, and three of us. It isn't exactly fair you get this whole table all by your lonesone, so... You should let us have it." The Smiling one shot a disapproving look, which was picked up by Ambitious. He relented. Just a little. "Okay, tell ya what: I'll challenge you straight up for the table. You bet my friend here," he motioned at Scowly, "at arm wrestling," The humor in his voice was near to tangible, "and not only do you keep the table, but I'll get your next round. You lose, you lose the table. And you're paying for our next round. Deal?"

Sure enough, Scowly was a thickly muscled fellow, his arms seemingly accustomed to extensive manual labor. This guy kept an unwavering gaze at Kathryn.


The presence of the pretty Tiefling was noticed among the salt of the earth that were the inhabitants of the Farmers' Market section of the Township almost immediately. People of Kosara's lineage very painfully rare in this place, and this earned her a multitude of different looks ranging from curious to fearful to outright awestruck. Some looked on with disdain, as if angry she had shown up but not quite enough as to say anything directly. Others were openly cheery and willing to embrace the newcomer. Especially if there was money to be spent by the attractive outsider. It was a mixed bag of reactions, all in all.

Most of the people who had tent and wagon businesses were packed up for the evening, yet the occasional call of vendors trying to sell ready to eat and easily portable foodstuffs could still be heard. This was a festival, after all, and where there was celebration there must be refreshment and restoratives. Plus, if one overindulged in alcohol, it was best to have something to expel rather than wretch out empty bile behind a tree by one's lonesome.

Here and there, one can spot tents that appear to be temporary lodging; simple cots and hammocks which can be utilized by anyone with a couple of coins to rub together, like a teamster trying to save money or a farmhand from a far section of Avonshire resting before the long trip back home. Many of these are situated around a central brazier which serves as light, heat, and a cooking area for these residents. The area has the look of a tent city or army encampment, be it mostly a place for local agricultural wares to be peddled and a place for trade to happen among the working class of the region.

A pleasant smell of smoldering, seasoned wood can be detected somewhere to the west, this combined with the telltale heaviness of pig fat made it rather easy to determine the sources. A small series of wagons, portable smokehouse setups, and meat cooking apparatuses both open, and contained, plus a couple set up for pit-style preparation were the obvious suspects. Men and women, Human and Halfling, young and old, all types milled around these things bringing together ingredients, cutting and sorting them for the easy to identify pitmasters and regents everlasting of the grill, who oversaw their small, mobile, barbecue fiefdoms like royalty in their own right. This was the Hog Broilin' Event alluded to earlier, and things were just getting warmed up.

The largest crowd, however, came from the low stage set up amid a cluster of official looking individuals including the Very Important Looking Gentleman from earlier. The seem to be reaching into a hat to pull out names, the order of the names pulled being recorded with chalk on a wide slate board. The torches, once unlit, are now alive with bright-burning flame which gave the place a warm and fuzzy glow, in part due to the fog diffusing much of their ambient light. Once the list was completed, a few words boomed from the Very Important Looking Gentleman. "Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for being here another glorious Harvest Festival. Now, we all now the rules: Avonshire residents only, if you didn't register before the deadline your name didn't go in the hat. You have until the sand runs from this hourglass to show us your talent, and we judge based on applause! In case of a tie, the honor of the final say goes to ...Yours Truly... And remember, just about anything can be a talent! Now, who do we have first... hmm... Aha! Mr. Dumas, and his fine Hammer Balancing! Mr. Dumas? Ah!"

An older fellow, Human, with a thick grey beard and long woolen coat walked up to the stage; he had a great sledgehammer in his hands which he set to the side. Opening his coat, one can see a grouping of several smaller hammers on his belt and in a harness at his sides. Thick suspenders hold his pants up, lest the weight of the blunt tools remove his modesty. The next moments are filled by him holding one hammer and stacking all of the other ones on top of them in interesting patterns. His big finale had him tilting his head back and setting the handle of his big sledge to his brow, its head pointed toward the heavens like a tall, blunt T. Mr. Dumas maintained this pose until his time ran out, bowed, collected his things and stepped down to respectable applause.

Other acts of moderate interest come and go; juggling hatchets and making shadow puppets, singing bawdy songs or playing a tune on a homemade flute. One man was able to cry on command, from one eye, the other, or both as he wished. When he stepped down, he picked up a sandwich board advertising his ability to do so for two copper pieces, should one want him to. Yet another lady blew notes across the top of several bottles, each with differing amounts of water in them to produce different pitches and create a cheerful song. This was a very provincial entertainment scene, not a spot for prime performers of their era. Truth be told, there were a few acts which were examples of genuine talent, but for the most part this was an excuse for the working classes to have their own sort of party. The promise of really good wine was an excellent excuse to draw a lot of people into it, though there was already plenty of lesser quality wine and spirits already flowing around the Market.


The fog was thicker here, and while the nearly full moon shone down along with an impressive collection of stars in the heavens, it still could not quite illuminate as well as the torches brought along by the collection of quickly assembled and half-drunk mourners following in the wake of Cecily, Lizbeth, Victoria, and of course Morty. By the time that they had gotten to the cemetery, the noise of merriment and string music had the resident gravedigger already out of his tiny cottage on premises and walking to meet them. He had a shovel in hand, but by the way he was holding it, it probably wasn't meant for moving earth.

Upon seeing Cecily, the fellow relaxed a bit. Just a bit, as the whole scene was highly unusual and hearing the occasional muttering of Olidammara did little to assuage his concerns. The briefest conversation and the exchange of coins for promised service followed, and somehow this older man took to his task of making a hole in hallowed ground with contained reverence. The fact that the hole didn't have to be remotely as big as his usual "burying the whole casket" width and depth helped matters along. A few quick silvers for parting soft earth was worthwhile, even at the outset of the evening proper.

Wine, as if turned out, was a commodity that the people of Avonshire was very capable of getting hold of when asked, and the wide circle of these people had no difficulty sharing it among themselves and, as requested, setting a number of bottles aside for Victoria to do ...whatever she intended to do with it. They were wines of widely differing varietals and values, some of which could be spotted by a layman to the craft and others requiring a sommelier to properly pair. This prompted the question from one of the more intoxicated members of the group, "Does one serve red or white with a burial?" prompting a slew of hissing laughter from some and admonishment from others.

Cecily remained quiet for this; Lizbeth as well but her face held more emotion than her aunt.

After some time had passed, there was a fresh hole dug in front of a large, preexisting stone marker which bore the name "L'Rose". behind this marker was a simple mausoleum of the same grey stone, its doors covered by a locked iron gate. The bones, still wrapped in canvas, were nestled into the shallow hole, and suddenly a lot of eyes were on the now appropriately festive Half-Elf Bard.

Marita tried to keep everything in her head at once, even if most of it she felt was fairly self explanatory. Not having to keep in mind an extensive menu for food or drink certainly streamlined things, but given how busy it was it wouldn't do well to fumble such a simple job and make the situation even worse than it already was. Before she set off to work, Marita carefully rolled up her sleeves such that they wouldn't be in the direct line of fire of any splash or spill that came her way. This gown was rather expensive after all.

Unfortunately, this bit of foresight ended up not helping her at all. Before she even started to get to work, one of the patrons enjoying his conversation and ale a bit too much leaned a bit too far back in his chair and ended up falling backwards onto his arse, much to the amusement of his mates. In the process of falling, his drink flew across the pub, only to be saved from spilling all over the floor by landing directly onto Marita's rear end. She flinched at the suddenly sensation of wetness, her jaw clenched and muscles tightened as she turned around to see who just assaulted her, only to find the man struggling to get up to his feet while his friends laughed so hard they had trouble breathing, let alone speaking.

"Sorry about that, lass. Could you get me a refill?" The cleric had to literally bite down on her tongue to stop herself from telling him what for. She took a deep breath and told herself to treat these customers as if they were clergymen ranked above her. For the most part.

"Yes sir, I'll get that right for you." Marita replied, her eye twitching once. Once she set about her job properly, she was able to forget her anger and focus on the many tasks at hand. Initially she was a bit slow on the job due to her unfamiliarity with the position and the layout of the public house, but after the first hour or so she found herself getting into the flow of things quite nicely. As nicely as one could get working a new job on what was one of the busiest nights of the year. If any of the customers she serviced were the type to get handsy, Marita's natural charm along with one of the highest priority locations of attack being soaked in ale deterred any wandering fingers.

Although her mind was set nearly 100% to doing the job she volunteered for, even if to the detriment of perhaps attempting to learn information pertinent to the task she was actually here for, Marita noticed the men who had stepped forward to Kathryn's table. She couldn't hear what was being said from where she was, but the body language didn't appear very amicable. Truth be told she wasn't very concerned for the knight's safety. She had seen how she functioned in combat just earlier that day, and if a fight did break out she was right there to step in and keep the peace. But that was what she truly worried about, a scene being caused and her having to do something about it. Such a thing would only bring more unwanted attention onto the party and sour their reputation, especially with Bob. But that was something she could only spare a moment's thought before returning to her work. She'd keep an ear perked for anything that might require her direct attention.

Watching around Kathryn didn't pick up too much of note, though she saw the spill that happened with poor Marita and wondered how the woman could handle it. The closest Kathryn had done to any kind of service work was guard duty for people with a lot more money then she could ever hope to have. Though Kathryn rarely tried to resort to violence as her first option, she was not against using it to anyone who couldn't take no for an answer. But Marita was holding her own rather well, Kathryn would offer the woman a drink when she was done with her shift. Then after thinking on it, she wasn't sure if the woman drank at all? Kathryn was also reminded she may not have been as observant as she thought as a comment was directed towards her, and she hadn't picked up who it came from until with were within a few steps distance. Had this been a combat situation, she could have found herself in a particularly bad situation. "w-what?" She registered the words as soon as she spoke, but she imagined it made her look like quite the fool in that moment.

Kathryn listened to the man talk, and then she understood where the resentment was. "Oh no no no, My apologies, I just assumed public house, any free seat was a free seat. It seems there is plenty of room for us all no?" She tried to give an innocent smile to it all. But it seemed the trio was having none if it. She noticed that one of the men was smiling towards her, and she had an odd feeling about what that may mean. Maybe he was just excited to see his friend arm wrestle a young girl? Either way, Kathryn had her own situation to sort out. And it seems peace was never an option. "If you're insistent, then sure. We got a deal." Kathryn adjusted herself while scowly took his seat across from her. Taking a moment to undo her armored gauntlet, then clasped hands with the laborer. Their hands had many comparisons, his were calloused and scared from likely years of intense manual labor. Kathryn's were calloused and scared from years in intense fighting. The most noticeable being Kathryn's scars were bigger.

The moment they locked hands and began to apply pressure Kathryn realized, she fucked up. She felt it in her shoulder, she was in a poor position to gain any considerable leverage with her strength. She could feel the strain against her shoulder and if this man was stronger then he looked, Kathryn applying too much force could cause some real harm to herself. The issue was now her pride was in the way of letting her just give up the fight. They held their grips for what felt like several minutes as both of them tried to force the other one down. Then Kathryn felt it, a slight give in the other man's push. Had Kathryn been clearly winning it she would have guessed the man was baiting her in, tricking her to give it her all and slam back when she wasn't prepared, but the man had the upper hand in this situation, even if only by a bit. Kathryn pushed hard against scowly with enough force that anyone with a lighter build may have to see a medical professional afterwards. She felt the push back at the last moment and worried that this whole thing was still a trick, but the recovery was too slow and the man's hand slammed down with a loud THUD against the wooden table. Cups shook, silverware jumped, there was an audible gasp from a woman the next table over. Kathryn was ecstatic! The moment the hands separated Kathryn grabbed her beer, chugged it, and threw her hands up in a cheer. "WOO!" Then she slammed her massive mug down on the table. "I'll be taking that beer lads." She spoke in her rather heavy foreign accent thrilled to have recovered from a situation she seemed like she had no right to win.

The man, Scowly had a look of shock and frustration on his face. He made some claims about slipping, but it seemed no one believed him. Kathryn wondered if that may be true and then saw an opportunity with these men. "How about this then? The table is a big too big for one girl to have to herself. Grab me my beer, and come join me for a seat. Table's big 'nough for the lot of us no?" She wondered if she could get these men to talk with her about local events better then the barkeep. And with the peace offering of sharing the table despite winning it to her lonesome, she hoped it was enough to ease tensions. Even if she suffered from some excessive celebration. It seemed making good with some locals could only help her situation. "And you." She pointed at Scowly with her ungloved hand. "If you're up for it, we can do a rematch over some more beer. Winner buys for the loser." If tensions eased, it could be a nice drinking game to get them more comfortable talking with her. "We can do same hands, or switch to lefties if ya like. I'm game either way." That part was a bit of a trap. Kathryn was ambidextrous. Though some tasks she preferred with specific hands, she was about equally coordinated with both hands.