Kosara confidently strode through the colorful collection of tents, stalls and people milling about. There were just so many sights to see and even the air was filled with the tasty aroma of different foods! Though to be fair at places there were other scents too, but she wasn’t going to think about those ones right now. The attention she gathered from the locals was a thing she paid little of her own, mostly because she was well used to being the center of attention as a dancer! Besides people kinda fell second to food and sights for the most part.

Skipping merrily forward and whistling a tune, she took in everything she could see and studied the food stalls. Sure enough, the pale tiefling quickly diverted her general wandering about the market to actually browsing the foodstuffs on display. So many curious things, some familiar and others not! For example she saw the pits for preparation of the cattle. Yeah she wasn’t used to seeing farm animals being butchered and prepared in these numbers. It very much put things into perspective when compared to back home. There wasn’t much land that could be used for animal grazing in the lands she grew up in, so most meat they got was already treated for long term preservation. So seeing so much fresh meat was very interesting.

The dancer quickly began amassing a small collection of rustic foodstuffs. Some she ate now, others she put away for sharing with the party later tonight or tomorrow morning when they reconvene as a group! She naturally also realized the fact that there was so much meat and other farming produce present, likely meant that now was the time to stock up on preserved supplies. Stuff like the meats that were being dried, smoked or salted. It made her think of Morty. Now Kosara really wondered if the undead pig used to hang somewhere on a rack while smoked? Wouldn’t THAT be an interesting sight. All in all, Kosara spend 3 whole silvers on food while wandering the stalls. Sadly she very much doubted there was Cactus Water stored somewhere around here. She didn’t even bother asking. Since well… you needed cacti to have cactus water! But she had decided to grab some spiced wine later. If not for tonight then for later eventually.

Eventually she ended up where the crowds were the biggest! Naturally she was going to look at the talent competition! There were a lot of things she hadn’t seen before! Some more impressive than others naturally. Kosara enthusiastically applauded EVERY person that showed on stage to show their trick, no matter how simple it was! Even the ones making shadow puppets! It was all something that carried meaning! Her own sisters had in the past made show puppets when telling her stories, so she didn’t think they were stupid! It was all merry fun and there were some really unique and interesting things that she very much enjoyed even more than she did everything else. For example the guy who could cry on demand! That was hilarious and useful! Kosara could very much imagine using that ability for gains! The tiefling could hardly imagine all the foodstuffs she’d be able to get if she looked sad! In her experience people tried to console those that were sad! So yes, she was thinking of gains… food gains!

The musicians were mixed bag, but she still applauded! It was all fun! Granted none were of V’s skills, but that didn’t matter. She especially liked the lady that blew notes with bottles that were filled in varying levels! That was quite interesting thing she hadn’t seen before! Now Kosara was wondering if there was a way to make use of this curious phenomenon? Could it be recreated using great basins of water, not even glass ones? She HAD to test it later! As a whole, it was a mighty fine entertainment present and Kosara could sort of understand why they wouldn’t want V present… she’d win the reward with ease!

The flaw in the great plan to get the public involved was that despite them clearing a path, providing ample light, and procuring a very respectable amount of wine for the ceremony (such as it was), they were possessed of a whimsical bent birthed of alcohol and the yearly festival. Victoria's knowledge of the funerary practices of The Laughing Rogue, Olidammara, was adequate to the task, her personal history being a strong factor in this regard, though she had questions. Foremost among these questions was why this man followed a deity better suited to ne'er-do-wells and the socially unstable. There was a connection to wine there, true, but Lliira sounded much more suited to such a person.

People were complex. The Gods knew that her own family had some interesting tidbits of fact about them that would surprise the general public, were they to know - herself included. So this was none of her business about which to ponder aloud. Her task was to put the man in the ground with as much honor as a person of laity could, hopefully while bringing clarity to the emotions of the people in attendance. In this instance, putting on such a performance effectively would be easier than with other crowds, seeing as they were already mid-celebration and partaking of mood enhancing libations. So Victoria began.

The first few notes which flew from the friction between bow and string upon her violin were drawn out, clear, and designed to draw attention. It worked. Muttering and side conversations ceased, allowing Victoria to speak. "It is said that there is a temple of Olidammara anywhere there is wine, song, and laughter. It is also said that any place that sells ale counts as a shrine," a smile flashed, allowing a moment for others gathered to get in their own murmurs of joviality. "...so I take that last statement with a grain of salt."

Victoria knelt to recover one of the bottles of wine given over to her for the ceremony, straining a little to open it. The cork gave way with a very audible and hollow pop. "Before I play a song on behalf of the departed, let us raise a toast in his name. Does anyone have something to say about the late Monsieur L'Rose?" She raised the bottle to her lips, but paused, a wicked but disarming smile gracing her features, "In honor of the occasion and deity involved, it doesn't necessarily have to be true." Or believable, for that matter, as long as it was in the interest of entertainment. "There will be time for honest dialogue after the earth was covered him." Bottle in hand, Victoria waited expectantly for someone to speak.

Things went better then they had any right to for Kathryn. She got herself some free beer to add to her nightly supply of beer. She made Friends introductions with the locals. And she figured that maybe they'd be a bit more cooperative now that things have eased up a bit. Plus, she had leverage. The bloody table. Once Scowly returned with Kathryn's beer the group sat at the table quiet as Kathryn started work on her drink. Kathryn figured after her moment in glory she should work a little better to ease tensions. "Name's Kathryn. Nice to meet you lot." She held out her hand to shake anyone willing to accept. "Mind if I ask ya names there? Mine's Kathryn." She figured the whole title with all names involved was not the way to get on these men's good side. Many people don't like being implied they are of a lesser class, especially after such a loss like Scowly had. Not that Kathryn would ever do that intentionally. Her found her titles and names worked well for talking to people in positions of power, but for the common folk it was better to be on the humbler side.

Kathryn would sit and listen quietly as the men spoke making sure to keep the bulk of her attention on them as they did so. When given the chance to speak up Kathryn asked "So are you locals? I just arrived in town and I was wondering what I could expect from Avonshire. And with work going well it seems like I'll be here for at least the festives." Plus, if they were locals maybe they had some more information that Kathryn was lacking and wouldn't be able to pull up on her own. Not at least until Robert was more willing to open up a bit more. Maybe Marita was having better luck then Kathryn at getting on the good side of the locals? At this point though Kathryn needed to be careful not to push too hard too fast. Getting on the good side of these men would be the best thing she could do before trying to push for some questions. Plus, who didn't want to open up to a friend about weird things happening in town? "If you're up for it, I'd be game for a rematch?" She spoke to Scowly when given the chance.

As the show trickled onward, Kosara found herself following some of the contestants with the edge of her sight, planning to approach some or just watching them cause she was curious. She nearly forgot her purpose on the market! Which was gathering food stuffs! Then she spotted the man who cried on demand and recalled that no, it wasn’t gathering foodstuffs that was her task, it was to gather intelligence! Well, she concluded that making connections with the locals and gathering useful skills should also count.

With a smile on her face and a quick skip forward, she quickly found herself next to the man.” Hello there! My name’s Kosara and I was really impressed with your skill! I’m willing to pay your fee and even on top of it, would you be willing to give me a few tips to start learning to do the same?” She asked with an innocent happy smile on her face, studying the man in more detail now that she was up close. A human, middle to advanced aged, clothing that has clearly seen use and work. Not something unusual in towns, she supposed, she had seen many in similar conditions since her journey out of her home. Turned out he was named Beppo. A fairly nice old man who in the end didn’t seem opposed to talking with her and giving her information to start her crying career.

They had a really nice chat and Kosara eagerly listened, nodded and took a few notes here and there as he explained how it worked. To her mild surprise he revealed he used to be part of the local theater when he was young! The tiefling was especially excited to ask a few questions about that too. Her only exposure to theater was traveling ones that pass by the oasis. She wasn’t sure if it was the same as a proper local performance with a stage and all.

“Ohh, I would love to! I like mulled wine! Well I love all kinds of wine! I don’t get allowed too much usually, but I do love em! Tried mulled one in another city when I tried traveling after I left my home.” She immediately brightened up when the man offered more information about the skill in exchange of having a drink and secrecy!” I have to admit though, I like this city! So much interesting stuff in these festivals! Going to have to search for some trinkets to buy before I leave. I got to get gifts for my family after all.” Kosara added, smiling.

The sun had finally dropped below the horizon, leaving the world around you to slip into a hazy, misty night. The fog did not help much with visibility, either. While not the thick, hopelessly obscuring fog that it could be (and in fairness provides a lovely ambience), it does limit vision to one's immediate area. Darkvision is not helpful in this instance, either. This does not effect anyone who is still indoors, which means that Marita and Kathryn are in the clear, but Kosara in the Farmers' Market and Victoria at the Cemetery are under the effects of this more plainly.

The almost-full moon and colorful sky gave way to a cloudless night full of stars. It would be quite pretty for those who appreciate stargazing but otherwise doesn't help with visibility against the fog and torchlight. More disappointing for those attempting to gaze upon heavenly bodies is that they would have to find a higher elevation to truly appreciate what is otherwise a swirly myopic blur, again thanks to the fog.

The temperature began to come down. It was slow at first, but as soon as the sky darkened it became obvious that Autumn was well advanced and the unseasonable cold that produced frost the previous night was coming back. With this dip of ambient warmth and lack of sunlight, the streets began to clear out. There were still enough people to give the appearance of a town with an active nightlife, though the numbers were not that of the hectic festival of midday.

As with the last update, the party finds itself in three places around the Township: Neil & Bob's Public House (which is still quite busy), the Farmers' Market (which is clearing out some, but not as much as the rest of the town), and the Cemetery (which is always a great place to be in a D&D game at night amid a rash of disappearances). Let us continue.


The tumble of the one patron which so neatly deposited the beer onto Marita gave rise to a roar from the crowd, both applause and raucous laughter. Like most things happening in the epicenter of a region-wide celebration, it was given intense emotion one moment and moved away from the next, for whatever piece of diversion might come next.

Otherwise, Marita's work was fairly simple. Let it be stressed that simple does not mean easy. As uncomplicated as this was, there was a mystery as to how Lea did this by herself, and a testament to her experience plying her trade. It was a gift. However, Marita's grasp on the tasks at hand were good enough to net her a tidy sum in tips for her efforts. A new crop of mixed coins jangled in her apron pocket; coppers enough to equal four silver coins of the realm in addition to three actual silver coins from more generous and/or drunkenly heavy tippers. Such cash could really only come to a barmaid during a special event such as this one.

A period of time that might be considered a lull creeps up. Business did not really slow down, but for a single shining, amazing moment, everyone's drink was full. People had stew in front of them, and while chatter was at an all-time high, nobody had a hand up at the tables and no one looked about with expectant eyes for someone to serve them. From inside the door to the kitchen, Lea waves her hands to get Marita's attention, then holds up two big bowls of stew with large chunks of bread resting partly submerged on top. The experienced barmaid jerks her head back toward the kitchen, motioning to follow.

Back at Kathryn's table, the trio of festival goers took her up on her offer to share the table, except for Smiley, who shook his head and wandered off to the bar to divest himself of some money for another pitcher of beer to place in front of the burly warrior lady, and one (of lesser quality) to split between his friends. At the table itself, the Ambitious one gave a gracious grin and motioned for Scowly to sit. Over the din of the Public House, he remarked, "Well now, you didn't have to do that. Your table, fair and square. Unless you got up, then I promise you we would have taken it before you got back from your first ale-piss." This sentiment was seconded by Scowly, whose face hadn't softened from the defeat just a moment ago, by nodding and muttering something in agreement.

Ever the talkative one, Ambitious continued, "Let's be friends. For the next hour or so, at least. My name is Maurice. The happy guy bringing you back your beer right now is Lawrence, and the big, grumbly fellow here we call Curly."

When the beer arrived and was poured, Curly's demeanor seemed to have shifted a little toward being more sociable. "Yeah, rematch." He was very positive about it in very few words. "After this one," he added while holding up his mug of beer, a caveat coming from a supposedly dry throat. The additional qualifier was added, "Loser buys next round."

Lawrence clears his throat and gives a brief explanation that indeed, they were locals. The three of them had been kicking around the region as work came up for laborers, farming or otherwise, and in fact did a little brick work once upon a time to the repair the drainage under the town, and even a touch of teamster work for visiting merchants that took them all the way to the coast once. Mostly unskilled labor, but folks in the know were aware of their presence.

"So how did you know about the festival, Miss Warrior (it is Miss, right)?" coming from Maurice. "And how were you able to find a room in town at this season? Most everything's booked a week out, unless you know someone."


There are irregular light sources that allow for more or less reliable, unimpeded vision within their areas of illumination. Braziers are lit, as well as a couple of permanent campfire areas, giving variations of bright and dim light to cut through the foggy evening. The braziers are more for warmth than light, their red-orange coals glowing quietly to cut through the dampness and chill of the ambient air, assisted by torches and oil lamps where possible. What might lurk beyond the reach of their light remains up to the imagination.

There are still quite a few people wandering about here, laughing, drinking, or getting something to eat. This is also a place where many of the working class would set up for the night in canvas tents with slightly raised wooden floors. Some were settling in for the night on cots or hammocks, others were preparing their evening meals over communal fires. Still others were plying wares at lowered prices to the locals from their own wagons, stewpots, or tents. Some popular spots had small barrels, crates, and boxes for seats out in the open while steaming, mulled wines, tea, and other hot beverages were being distributed. Conversations here were garrulous and open, while rumors were being discussed aloud. As mentioned before, this is a place for the common folk to have their own party.

Toward the western side of the area, the scent of seasoned woodfires wafted, along with the telltale scent of searing and roasting swineflesh. It was moderately and evenly lit against the night, and was the busiest part of the area. Teams of people were getting dug in for a very long session of the incredibly slow preparation of pork, and all that which might accompany it, for the next day.

The people of the Talent Show didn't seem to be done yet. For the night, yes. In total, no. Several people were declared to have moved on to the finals, to be held around dusk the following evening. Their barrel of very fancy wine was still around, being kept relatively safe until it can be awarded to the winner.

And finally, walking among the folk of the land, there was a lone figure in common clothes with a big, floppy hat and simple sandals. One might think this person might be put off by the temperature on account of his modest attire, but a cheery smile matched equally optimistic blue eyes as he walked along, a stout fishing pole in one hand resting across his shoulder. As he neared Kosara, he paused. "Mornin'!" he greeted, continuing with, "Nice day for fishin', ain't it? Huah hah!" before continuing his determined stride elsewhere.

Beppo, The Amazing Crying Man, leads Kosara (and in truth very obviously wants to be seen with her on his arm) over to one of the more poplar spots near a brazier and procures from a canvas storefront two wooden cups of steaming, spiced wine. He initiates a pleasant enough continuation to their conversation, eventually leaning in to explain, "Just sometimes, I dab a little mint extract under by eyes. Gets 'em started, at least." He was very quiet, almost at a whisper. Placing one finger across his lips, he reiterates, "But don't go telling nobody."



"Monsieur L'Rose once ate a whole jar of pepper jelly on a dare. The Rentman stuff." proclaims one man, only lightly addled by drink. This was generally accepted by the congregation as a whole.

"Yeah!" says another, "Standing on his head!" A couple of laughs from this one, though it wasn't the funniest thing to say.

"Big man with the ladies in his youth!" states yet another, "Used to ask 'em to dance two or three at a time, he did!"

"Yeah!" came a shouted agreement from a couple others. They were finally getting this game. Every third proclamation was followed up by a toast in his name, along with mighty shouting of "MONSIEUR L'ROSE!"

Full circle this ran around and around, finally getting to a point where one man shouts above the din of his fellows, "And he wore a blue ribbon around his tallywhacker, because he said it ALWAYS won first prize!" This was followed by a roar of laughter and continued chanting of, "MONSIEUR L'ROSE!" A few of them suddenly began to feel self-conscious of their antics, owing to the presence of little Lizbeth, which began to bring the mood down a little bit.

Meanwhile, the young girl had asked for and acquired Victoria's slim-fitting purple coat from Cecily, and wrapped it around her shoulders to ward off a bit of the foggy night's chill. It looked like a dress on her. This kind of boisterous activity wasn't unknown to either Cecily nor her young charge. They came from wine folk; growers, vintners, merchants, and imbibers, all. And owing to the deity lauded by the former family patriarch, such roguishness was expected. "At least he didn't follow Ela," Cecily muttered.

Overall, the fog wasn't quite as annoying as one might assume out from behind the walls. It was thicker, heavier, and threatened to make uneven ground perilous, but the torches brought by the people of Avonshire as well as the lanterns from the Gravedigger did much to provide visibility. There was a cost, though, as the fog obliterated any chance of sight past the range of the torch fires. This seemed to bother nary a soul above ground nor below in this particular cemetery. Alcohol flowed, merriment was had, and the late Monsieur L'Rose was getting a lively, if not factually accurate, sendoff.

The disarticulated skeleton remained wrapped in canvas, nestled at the bottom of the hole provided for it. Whether the deceased approved of the party going on above his bones or not, they weren't telling.

It was mid day by the time that Rickard had arrived in Avonshire. Much of the day had been spent traversing the western road with the caravan he had joined up with when leaving home. Initially he had planned to set out on his own, his children however insisted that he travel with a caravan for his safety. Their main argument against him traveling alone was that the roads had been rumored to have grown more dangerous in the last several years. So for their sake he made the arrangements and traveled with the caravan. The lack of speed in exchange for safety ment that he would be a week or so later in getting to Avonshire than he would have liked. All in all the trip to get took nearly a full three weeks. What caused the largest delay was when two of the carts had their wheels break, as well as the caravan spending a few more days than intended in one spot due to weather.

After arriving his first order of business was to go to the local inn and ensure at least one night's stay. He had secured a bed in the common room before heading there to change out of his mail and gambeson, into his woolen pants and silk tunic. Several minutes passed as he inspected the armor and clean what rust he could see off with magic. After the armor was cleaned and neatly stored with the rest of his gear, except for his shield, in a chest at the foot of the bed he had purchased. He locked the chest and the proceeded to go to Samuel's shop and start his investigation there.

Outside the shop looked like most others, aside from having what looked like a small barn attached to it. A two story building with large windows on the base level to show complete chairs, tables, benches, and even a few small toys. Inside a thin layer of dust covered the furniture and counters. Rickard slowly walked through the shop door, using a key the senior Brindleton, and began to look for what was out of place. The workshop had pieces of a bed frame were set neatly together awaiting final assembly. The head board was in the process of having a scene of a forest in the early dawn carved into it. The stacks of wood to the far left looked as though some of their ends had cracked and split during the drying process. On all of it was a thin layer of dust, same as the counters.

He walked out of the workshop, and back behind the counters. The ledger Samuel kept was not difficult to find as it was kept in a desk in a small room. Inside were lists of those who had purchased new furniture, what repairs were made, and which loggers had brought him which wood. Rickard set it back in its place and sought for any other signs of what happened to the man he was asked to find. The upstairs living area there was much the same. The dining table had a few stubby candles in small brass holders. Plates and cutlery were put away on a small cabinet. The hearth where the cook pot hung was cold and empty. An unfinished letter to Samuel's father sat on the table, with quill and ink set to the right of the letter. "Where could you have gone?" Rickard asked aloud while glancing at the letter. Making his way back down stairs and out of the shop, the elven man stopped long enough to lock the door before returning to the public house for an evening meal.

The food was modest, it appeared to be mutton stew, and the wine was not of a vintage he would have preferred. But both did serve for the evening. In the time it took to eat the meal he had formed a mental list of people to speak with, at least the neighbors might know something.

The following day Rickard had check his gear for dirt or rust. He found few spots he had missed last night on the chain mail, which he cleaned then returned it to the chest. Breakfast was as modest as the supper from last night. The fried bread was a touch greasy from the sausages, and both were slightly over cooked. The tea at least was not over steeped and bitter. After breakfast, he venturned out and visited the homes of three of Samuel's neighbors. Unfortunately only one was home at the time  The man who was home mentioned that it had been at least three days since Samuel has been at the shop. He had tried to drop off a chair for repair it was locked up. He had also mentioned a rumor a dressmaker's daughter having gone missing since the start of final autumn harvest, near on two weeks ago. Brightcobble was the name of the missing halfling. The rest of the afternoon did not yield up near as much information as more people were interested in going to the festival. Or busy with setting up for the festival for that matter.

Rickard returned to the public house later in the evening than intended. The crowd outside for the festival made it a bit more difficult to get back. He just time for the rush to still be in full swing. A quick search showed few places to sit let alone enjoy a meal. He makes his way to the bar and waited for the barkeep to get to him. The slate board showed that there was some Rose River Fortified Zinnoberrot available. While more expensive than the house wine, it would be a better wine to end the night on. "A cup of the Rose River please." He counted out the coin for the wine as well as one more night's stay at the public house. Once the wine was in hand he nodded to the barkeep. "Thank you. Out of curiosity, what do you know about Samuel Brindleton?"

Marita's head felt like it was about to burst. There were so many things that needed doing at the exact same time that if she were a less disciplined woman she would scream. Although she had in actuality been doing the job about as well as could be expected of someone starting it up for the first time during peak season, from her perspective it was as if she had stepped into the center of a tornado and had to untangle the winds from each other by shouting at them. Which made the miracle of all the customers being temporarily sated all the more astounding.

Marita looked around the public house, double checking to see if anyone required servicing before she noticed Lea and her silent invitation for food in the kitchen. She made eye contact and nodded, hurrying off into the kitchen without a word, as if letting her voice out would alert the customers at the fact that the staff were not currently swarmed with work and needed more to do. Once in the relative safety of the kitchen Marita let out a sigh and began to eat as quickly as one could while retaining a dignified appearance. It was only a matter of time until they were needed again, and chances were there wouldn't be another chance to eat until after the public house closed. Lea sat on a stool and had another one free for her newfound coworker, but the cleric's arse still being covered in ale kept her from taking that offer.

The stew was not to her taste, mutton was rather low class after all, but it would have been more surprising had it been. And regardless of personal preferences, this was the first meal she had since breakfast, and her third meal in two days so she wasn't in the state of mind to be overly picky anyways.

When Marita had finished most of her stew she felt confident enough to start a conversation even if they suddenly needed to get back to work.

"You've been having to deal with that by yourself this whole time?"

"It's not been as bad as tonight, but yes," Lea replied pouting. She stopped eating to shoot a glance towards the kitchen doors.

"And Bob hasn't done anything to get some more help? I know I'm here now, but I went up to him and volunteered." Lea scoffed.

"It's partly his fault why we're in this situation in the first place."

"What do you mean?"

"Up until about a week ago we had another girl working here, Audrey. Well, some nights before that started acting really paranoid. She would keep looking at doors and windows like she was being watched, and eventually Bob had a word with her. He said she was making the regulars anxious and that she was just being silly. They argued for a bit, but I guess in the end she did decide she was being silly. I said goodbye after a long shift and when I came back the next day she was missing. I haven't seen her since."

"No." This entire situation offended Marita for a myriad of reasons, but the worst one was when an employee of his suddenly became worried about her well being, instead of at least trying to see if there was any merit to it Bob's first move was to make her stop acting like it. If the story behind every missing person ended up being just as avoidable, she had a feeling that she would end up snapping sooner rather than later.

"Uh huh, so now we're stuck in this mess. Before you showed up I wasn't sure how we were going to make it through this mess." Daisy, the Halfling cook back in the back room, nodded in agreement with Lea, and silently offered Marita another helping of fresh bread and a glass of wine cut with juice. She pulled up a seat and joined the two on their break. Marita turned down the bread but accepted the drink. She took a sip silently wishing it was the Zinnoberrot instead. This was going to be a long night.

The bottle of local wine was still held near to Victoria's lips as the people of Avonshire embraced the spirit of the occasion a little too well. True, the name Olidammara was known far and wide, heard of among those who knew little about specific gods and the proclivities thereof, but this sudden oneupmanship certainly fell in line with the jovial chaos that the deity in question seemed to appreciate. Maybe the Laughing Rogue had a hand in the festivities; it was not likely that his name was invoked in a rural, agricultural community such as this, and even the gods had to get bored sometimes. In fact, the thought of that particular god setting his awareness to Victoria's doing gave her equal parts of amusement and anxiety. She was no Cleric, not by any means, but this was not a power she wished anything from aside from passing interest. They were on a serious investigation. So she shook the momentary "worst case scenario" thoughts away and took a long pull from the wine bottle in her hand.

It was nice. Clean. Floral. Just a note of citrus.

Aside from the wine, one thing that piqued Victoria's interest was Cecily uttering the name "Ela". The young Half-Elf gave a single, mildly surprised chuckle at this but did not engage with the sentiment further. She had heard many things about those faithful to Ela, some of which prompted her to make sure her coinpurse was still on her person. Luckily for her, Victoria managed to maintain an unchanged demeanor in the process.

With the mirthful boasting form the peanut gallery winding down, Victoria took another quick sip from her bottle and then set it aside, deftly plucking up her violin's bow and setting it to the strings. As the first beautifully haunting notes swelled from the expertly crafted instrument, Victoria called upon a thread of magic from the Weave about her, aligning it with the music which she called into being and channeling it to the bones, below. It was no act of Necromancy, of which one might accuse her, but a simple conjuration of fire to caress the canvas which swaddled Monsieur L'Rose's osseous remains. The glow outlined his bones for the briefest of moments before the cloth caught alight, giving an eerie but quite pretty show, prompting the silence of all present.

When the fire began to subside, Cecily took up a handful of soil and tossed it upon the remains. Lizbeth followed. Then the nearest townsperson. Then another, and another. This chain continued to the musical talents of the macabre-looking but still amazingly fetching Victoria Belmont. The already light wind stilled; the setting lit eerily by softly hissing and crackling torchlight refracting off of the now denser fog. Despite being out in the open, it gave a sense of privacy and formality to the ceremony.

Once everyone present dropped a handful of graveyard soil, the caretaker saw to a more formal filling in of the hole. He might have waited for the "guests" to leave, but this was very last minute and there was a desire not to leave remains exposed throughout the night so that stray dogs could get at them. People understood and accepted this. Even so, the gathering had become more morose, muted even, as funerals tended to get. This was to be expected. Lizbeth, still swaddled against the cold in Victoria's too-big purple garment, tugged at her black vestment and asked quietly, "Do you know any poetry? Grandpa loved it. I think he would want someone to recite something over him. Please?"

Victoria gave a small, quiet smile, looking into the child's eyes. There was something familiar about the look that Lizbeth had. Very familiar. She just couldn't place it. Maybe it was something about her own formative years; a sense of greater understanding of death and loss mixed with an instinctive leaning toward the needs of the living in the face of death. Deep inside, Victoria did have some wish that the little girl did not turn out quite like she did. There was a loneliness to her life that was hard to quantify. "Yes, child," she responded sweetly, "I know some poetry." Indeed she did. Many verses went through her thoughts right then, some belonging to acolytes of The Raven Queen, some venerating the Jasidan faith, and a number of Elven verses, none of which were really appropriate to a person of this background. Finally, she chose to speak an excerpt concerning death in a more general way:

"Here the stars no longer shine,
And bitter is the wine,
That flows between my lips,
In our garden that withered so fast.
Two roses, red and white,
The princess and the knight;
We'll always be here.
We will be waiting for,
Now and forevermore.

We are the evening's curse,
For better and for worse,
For you left for your ghost,
And I am the reaper of souls.
The pyres burning bright,
Flames reaching for the sky;
Now you are gone but,
I'll write the eulogy for you."

The caretaker wrapped up his work and patted the soil down with the flat of his shovel. His efforts finished, all that was left for him was to depart. Slowly, some of the townsfolk shuffled up to pay a final respect to a man who they probably didn't know personally, and return to what remained of the party back in town, or to their own places of rest for the evening. The three of them spent a few long moments around the freshly moved earth. There were quiet tears and whispered comforts. Victoria and Cecily shared a glass of wine from the many bottles left by the others, with Lizbeth getting a single sip for herself purely because of the occasion and the customs involved.

On the way out, the caretaker was kind enough to allow Cecily the use of a lamp, with the promise of its return the next day, and the three of them made their way back to the relative security of the walls of the Avonshire Township. The entire time, Lizbeth kept looking to the side of the road, straining her eyes and ears as if she noticed something out in the fog and darkness. Worried, she clutched closer to her aunt. They did make it inside without incident, much to Victoria's relief. The Bard had kept a confident face about her, but chose not to draw their attention to the fact that her hand was on the hilt of her slim sword almost the whole walk back.

The party atmosphere had died down considerably in this part of town, though Victoria was almost certain that she could hear something going on in this section, a little farther south of their location. The Honey Barn, maybe? It was around here. They hadn't quite crossed the bridge spanning the river which cut through town before Cecily stopped and said to Victoria, "We're at a boarding house near the Silversmith's, there." The lady pointed toward a building with light glowing dimly through curtained windows. It was a polite way of letting her know that they were about to part ways. Still, Victoria had every intention of staying put until she saw them actually enter the building. Cecily continued, "Are you very sure that I can't give you anything for... well, for doing what you just did for Papa L'Rose?"

"No, don't you worry even a little bit about that, Mrs. L'Rose," came Victoria's immediate response. "I told you before that I already have all the compensation I require from you. And from Monsieur L'Rose. Our account is settled. It is very kind of you to offer nonetheless. Just please get yourself and little Lizbeth indoors safely." Her words were warm, kind, and delivered with the surety of a person granite in their belief.

Both Cecily and Lizbeth gave the Bard a heartfelt embrace before leaving, the younger offering back her purple coat immediately thereafter. Victoria accepted it with a smile and waited on the bridge, as she had planned, for them to get inside. That handled, Victoria began to fold her coat to stash in Morty's pull-cart when she noticed that the hole in the sleeve was gone. Just gone, and she didn't see an opportunity for it to have been repaired since Cecily took it from her. That was curious. Instead of packing it, she shuffled off her cloak and slid the coat back over her svelte frame. If was her favorite one, after all. The cloak then covered this, hanging heavily in the foggy gloom of the night. It was getting colder anyway.

Victoria was now faced with a decision: Should she check out the noise south of her, maybe get involved in some more fun? Should she find the rest of her party? Safety in numbers was a factor. Or should she drop off her cart full of varying wines and maybe her burlap-wrapped, hickory smoked companion in the hayloft they were using for their lodging? Decisions, decisions. While she quickly thought on that, Victoria's hand absently found its way into a pouch on her belt. It contained a set of diviners' bones - small bones and/or teeth, among other relics of finished life for the purposes of divination or necromancy - and brought out one of them. It looked very much like a phalange, or human fingerbone. This one was scorched black along half of it, quite near exactly. She rolled it around in her hand for a moment before replacing it in the pouch with the rest. Yes, she had already received her compensation.

Having made her decision as to where to go next, Victoria looked to her beast of burden, intoning, "Let's go, Morty." Their day wasn't quite over yet.

So far Kathryn was enjoying her time. Was she making slow to no progress on her investigation? Yes. Was she drinking more then someone who was supposed to be working drinking? Also yes. Was she ready to drink more and have a great night with the locals? Absolutely. "You see that's why I had no intentions of getting out of this here chair. There happens to be two very nice ladies running about serving beer and food." Kathryn replied to Mr Ambitious with a big grin on her face implying that she just wanted to give the trio a hard time. Though when she looked around, she noticed Marita and the serving girl had left the main room. Good for them, it had been a long night for the duo. Kathryn hoped the worst was over for them. Though she had to admit she was feeling peckish.

It seemed Scowly was just having a long night, but she figured he'd warm up as the night moved on. "Nice to meet you Maurice and Curly. Everyone needs some drinking buddies." Kathryn greeted the two of them with a smile and a cheers motion emphasizing her first drink. Kathryn gracefully took drink number two from the last of the trio. "Thank you Lawrence." Once in hand Kathryn started work on her next drink. At the very least she was getting a fair amount of booze tonight. Curly seemed like he was warming up as well and seemed all for a rematch. Kathryn slammed down her half gauntleted hand with a loud thud then pointed said hand with an over exaggerated pointing jester. "There we go mates!" Kathryn said ready for this night to be a lot more enjoyable then expected. "Agreed. After this round. Loser buys the next. I look forward to the beer." Kathryn said with a big smile on her face.

Kathryn got to learn a bit about her new drinking mates while the lot of them drank their drinks. The trio seemed to cover a lot of general labor tasks without limiting them to any one specific field. Some of the labor even came across as semi skills and skilled labor to an extent which impressed Kathryn to hear. "Well you may have me beat in those areas. Couldn't tell you anything on bricks other then they get heavy. And are square. But it sounds like the lot of you have done close to everything in the field of manual labor." Soon after came Kathryn's turn with Maurice's questioning. "I happened to be working a job in the area assisting with the goblin problem. And just Kathryn works fine, the other titles just tend to get in the way of a relaxing evening. Unless you're trying to see if there is a special someone in me life. Then yes, Miss would apply." Kathryn took a rather large swallow of her beer before continuing. "As for stay, I have made some connections for housing while I sort out my job here. Nothing fancy, but it's private which with all the chaos going on I'll take." Kathryn wanted to share enough to keep the conversation going, but these were still new people to her. She didn't want to tell them all of her party's current state of affairs and find out that they were the cause of the disappearances.

Though unlikely, she wanted to err on the side of caution. "So, if ya notice any weird things going on or any goblins causing trouble, help a lass earn her pay for the week would ya?" Kathryn spoke not expecting the comment to go anywhere, but if the beer so far had helped looses anyone's lips maybe it would be enough of a hook for some information. "Sadly this week can't be all pleasure. It's a work week more then anything else. But if I can deal with the bastards quickly I may be able to enjoy the tail end of the things."

With the advent of the night the chill was returning to the world in greater force, but Kosara’s brand new and comfortable coat and boots kept her in good warmth, making her all fuzzy on the inside. Though that could just be the very nice soft feeling of the inner lining of the coat. Same thing really. Still reminding herself that she had to do something for V later in thanks, she followed the man as he led the way to the coveted mulled wine. The sudden appearance of the man with the fishing pole, made her recall the man with finish pole that had given her a very similar greeting earlier the day when they were arriving in town. She blinked and greeted him in return with a huge friendly smile. If he thought it was morning who was she to judge? After all the only difference between night and morning was really the time and nobody really knew the time without some serious time following instruments… or without being godly in some form or another!” Greetings! Yes it is! Wish you best of luck with the fishies!” She told the fishing pole wielding man as he moved away laughing!

Eventually they arrived by a brazier and Beppo brought drinks from the nearby canvas stall. Ahh the mulled wine! She tasted it slowly, savoring the exotic taste. It wasn’t often one got mulled wine out in the desert. Especially one that was from the far north. The conversation was pleasant enough and Kosara found herself enjoying it rather much. It all led to an eventual hushed whispering about the secrets of crying even when you didn’t feel like crying. Said secret turned out to be mint. MINT! Kosara gave him wide surprised eyes and nodded her shocked expression before nodding, putting a finger to her lips.” No soul shall hear about it from me! Promise. I am very good at keeping secrets! The only one who keeps secrets better than me is Grandpa, but that's because he rarely leaves home to chat with people!” She gave him her most sincere promise of the fact. After taking a sip from her wine, she looked around for a moment, before speaking again.” What about garlic? I haven’t had too much exposure to the thing, but I hear it’s real good at making you tear up. Wouldn’t that make a good tool too?” She asked him quietly. Looking around as if expecting the crying spies to show up and steal the crying secrets. If nothing else Kosara really liked to get into such overly dramatical plays.

Still going on with the conversation, Kosara figured she might as well ask a question that she wanted to ask.” Hey, Beppo, what’s with the Municipal building? I passed it on the way in the city earlier in the day. Back home in the Oasis we didn’t have much buildings to begin with, but why does it have such grand walls when it’s in the city? I get why a city might have surrounding walls to protect from bad folks, but I don’t know why one would need such walls inside a city! A castle in a city I also understand, got to protect a princess, but everything else? I’ve been meaning to ask my friends, but they all just took it in stride and I was worried they will laugh at me for asking!” Yeah it was bugging her very much that question. Why does one need such tall walls inside a city? Was there a point?

Robert looked annoyed, possibly  at being pulled away from his work. Weary amusement crept over his face at the mention of Mr. Brindleton, and he sneered sarcastically, "Samuel? Never heard of her. You want to ask folks about your lost love; you go right ahead. You'd better not run off any of my customers while you do it. I'll toss you out on your ear." Robert nodded to another man at the bar, taking his order and moving to fill it. The question of the missing person was seemingly put out of mind.

Rickard rolled his eyes at the man's sarcastic response. Should have seen that one coming. You would have been better off asking him earlier in the day when it was less busy. He left the coin for the wine on the bar and moved away from the bar to avoid unnecessary crowding. Once closer to the stage he found a pair of people sitting/leaning at the base and made his way over there.

"Mind if I join you and buy you all a drink?" Ricard had put on his most disarming smile hoping that the pair did not outright spit on him. The people he approached on the stage are a husband and wife, maybe mid to late twenties. Both are Human. There is initial reluctance to Rickard joining their conversation, but the mention of buying the next round has granted him at least the next drink's worth of their time. Rickard returned to the bar briefly to get the pair their next drink. He returns moments later and sat on the edge of the stage to listen to their tale. They mention that they're from a spot called "Fairwater", west of the Township, and came down this way a couple days earlier. They introduce themselves with the surname of "Cummerbund".

Recent events have put them in a ton of business as traders and merchants attempt to get the last of their travel and shipping through before the festival, and by extension before the snows set in. Though the lady of the pair does mention quietly that some of the merchants are hesitant to pass through this area any more than they have to, as there are rumors of people vanishing into the night around the Township. They don't mention any names specifically.

"It is good to hear that business has been well for you. I've only recently arrived in town from the pine flats near Bryn. My name is Rickard Barriden." So the disappearances are possibly more than two. What is going on lhere? He took a sip of the wine savoring the flavor while pondering on the matter. "The rumored disappearances have not affected your trade have they?"

To summarize the weather: Cold but not freezing, light wind, lots of fog. Like, just off the Thames level of fog now.

The Harvest Festival was a thing which was observed for several days. The vast majority of the people present in the Township knew this, and sought to pace themselves somewhat. Like a carnival coming into town, one did not have to get all of their merrymaking done in a single evening. A pace must be set, and so the locals set it appropriately by clearing out of the streets, for the most part, as the evening progressed. Many of the visitors made their way out of the town's gates, retreating to their tents and wagons in the scattered but respectable temporary villages.

Others filed into their respective houses; those visitors lucky enough to have found commercial accommodation found their inns and boarding rooms. Most of them, anyway. There were a couple hotspots of activity within the foggy community yet, if one knew where to look. Luckily, one of those places is more obvious than the other. Unluckily, the more obvious one is more of a "warmspot", that being the Farmers' Market area.

Out of those few still out and about on the streets of the Township, many appear to be in varying states of intoxication, and/or move with the kind of purpose that only an afterparty can muster. Of those seeking additional entertainment this evening, the general direction of east, toward the river bridges, is a popular direction. Those of you inside of buildings will only notice this in passing, if one looks out of a window or goes for some air. Or hits the privy. They've got those, y'know.



The breakneck pace of the business in Neil & Bob's leveled off to something more suited to middle-of-the-week business, albeit an unusually active one. A number of people even decided to call it an evening and excuse themselves for matters unattended, such as passing out in a warm bed or a cold gutter, depending upon level of drunkenness involved from person to person. The cacophony of loud, intoxicated conversations dulled to a moderate amount of background noise, and actual conversations could now be had without having to raise one's voice. Most people are satisfied with their food and drink at the moment, leaving the staff to tend to existing clientele rather than deal with the revolving door of foodservice madness.

Back in the kitchen, the meal between Lea, Daisy, and Marita continued. Daisy was a woman of few words, but after a moment or three of horking back as much stew and bread as her relatively small frame would allow, she piped up in a catty tone, "Yeah, I don't know what..." pause for a belch one might consider impossible coming from a Halfling in terms of depth and duration, "...got into Robert. He used to be a real 'people guy'. Robert even took an interest in a local kid - Halfling - who had a talent for hedge magic. Sponsored his 'adventuring' career at first." Her face darkened, a look of annoyance washing over her, "And his friend. Nasty little cuss, that one. And that was no sort of life for a raised proper Halfling boy to live, neither."

Lea gave a short laugh and added, "Oh, come on! I liked those two. They were funny. Hmmm... But yes, Robert used to laugh more, too. Then a few weeks ago he just ...stopped. Closed the bar down for a couple days. When he came back, it was like he was tired of everyone. Well, almost everyone." The barmaid shook her head and returned to her meal. "We should be getting back soon."

Meanwhile, back at the table in the center of the taproom, Lawrence took up the gauntlet of primary speech as Maurice took to slowly sipping his beer and Curly just sat, looking discontented. "Weird things and Goblin hunts, huh? Well okay, I'll keep my eye out, but there's not a lot of Gobbos in these parts, not usually." Something seemed to dawn on him, and he spoke again with elevated vigor. "Say, are you with the group that liberated the Rose River wagon? You're famous!" A yell across the room to Robert came next, as Lawrence ordered, "Hey there, Bobby-Boy! Bring out a flagon of the good stuff for Lady Kathryn's table here! Yeaah! She's the reason we got the good stuff in the first place!"

A round of boisterous Huzzahs came up from around the Public House as many agreed aloud, the general idea being that it was enough of an excuse as any to drink. Some few even came up to shake Kathryn's hand and give congratulations. But after a while, the scowling face returned to Mr. Curly, who immediately rebuffed the idea of sipping on wine. He finished his mostly full ale in a series of mighty quaffs (that's with an "A"; mind our of the gutter, people.) and slapped his tankard upon the table. "I ain't paying for my next beer, hero or no!" His elbow hit the table next as his sleeve wiped away the bit of ale that lingered on his lips. And face in general. "I'm ready for that rematch, hero. Hah!"

Also meanwhile, by the stage, the Cummerbund couple looked to be readying to head out for the evening, their fun for the night almost fully had. Courtesy was with them, as both stuck around to answer Rickard's last question. "Our business? No..." A pause from the man, continuing, "I mean, everything affects business, one way or another. So we came along to see to things personally." The lady added, "Oh, but what about that one shop? My dear husband here wanted to buy me something nice while we were out this way, like a ring or a locket, so we stopped by a silversmith's place near the river, but... all boarded up. From the inside. Strange. Something must have been affecting their trade, I think." Man and lady nod, give their polite goodbyes, and exit the building hand in hand.


Beppo gives his personal opinion on the application of garlic, which amounts to easy detection for others and thusly should be avoided. "But you experiment around, young lady. Personal discovery is a good thing - But - a good, tearful performance should only get help in appropriate circumstances, and never to cheat at a contest like this, you see. Mmm hmm. Are you enjoying your wine?"

Furthermore, the old man doesn't seem to fully grasp the concept that Kosara puts off, as walls around important structures has always been part of his culture. However, his thinking being a little amiss, he answers anyway. "It is kind of funny. Like, funny strange, not funny ha ha, y'know? Yeah... Nobody's allowed in there anymore, like they're protecting our crop percentage or taxed silver. Or whatever land deeds and Crown papers need more protecting, and the like. Constable Cavendish and a few of his guards come out every now and again with Township business, but I never see a soul go in anymore, 'cept them." He shrugged. "Well, not my business. Not a bit. They can have their clubhouse. My little hobby farm is good enough for me."

With the exception of the carts and tents catering to the all-night hog broiling crews, the Farmers' Market area is becoming more like a sub-community that all agreed to loosen up a ways and settle down to a meal. Most of them put away thoughts of hawking wares, content to get their sleeping arrangements together before setting up meals for themselves, friends, family, coworkers, etc. The place began to have a more domestic feel, and outsiders mostly cleared out. Beppo was content to sit and sip his beverage in the chill and foggy night air for as long as Kosara wished to hang around.

From a circle of tents clustered around a communal fire, the scent of root vegetables and herbs came wafting by. A simple repast for simple folk after a long day of work and merrymaking. Things slowed down. From somewhere in the gloom, the sound of boisterous and inexpert singing could be heard belting out a jaunty barroom song about a rotund lady named "Fanny" and certain coming-of-age exploits that were best sung about whilst inebriated.

This new information definitely set off flags in Marita's mind. Chances rose significantly that Bob knew what was going on with the disappearances, even only partially. She couldn't be certain he was implicit in the trouble, but she felt that at best he was turning a blind eye. Why he was doing so: self-preservation, implicit powerlessness, apathy; she couldn't reasonably deduce. Perhaps she could find a way to confront the man about it without triggering a trap. They still had a bit of time in their break, but not much more; Marita would try to get a bit more information from them while she could. She finished her glass of wine and handed it to Daisy to wash.

"Halfling boy?" Daisy's face takes on a wry expression when Marita takes the bait to gossip.

"His name is Samthe, son of the Rentman family. They're an important family around here. They grow the hottest peppers in all of Avonshire. My cousin Kimberlyn didn't think they could live up to their reputation so she went and bought their hottest pepper and ate it in one bite. She spent the next hour chugging water trying to cool her mouth down, you should have seen it. But the boy, Samthe one day started up and using magic out of nowhere and on top of that he befriended this horrible gray gnome, Carl. He called himself a servebulin or something." Marita's mind recognized that she was talking about a svirfneblin, which was alarming. What was one of them doing up on the surface, let alone in a podunk farming county like Avonshire?

"Svirfneblin." Marita interjected, providing Daisy with the correct pronunciation.

"Yes, that. Anyways, he starts filling Samthe's head with foolish ideas about becoming and adventurer. At the same time he does nothing but cause problems for everyone in the township. Most days you'd find him stumbling about town completely drunk using all sorts of improper language and making a scene of everything. And if you said a word about what a disgrace he was making of himself, he'd insult you and make things even worse. In fact I remember a time he was so drunk in this very establishment that one of the patrons found him passed out hanging from the rafters by his feet. How he managed that is beyond me. If it weren't for him, a proper boy like Samthe would have never run off." Daisy crossed her arms and shook her head, tongue clicking in disappointment.

"You're being too harsh, Daisy." Lea speaks up, counteracting Daisy's heretofore uncontested Carl-bashing. "He could be a bit brash, but Carl was funny and told a lot of interesting stories about places we'd never set foot in. Samthe was all grown up, and if he was going to start adventuring around, it's good that Robert supported him at home. He'd take care of some of his belongings and even gave him some gear when he was starting out. Besides, in between jobs they'd always come back here and attract a lot of business and spend a lot of coin we wouldn't have otherwise." Daisy remains silent, not refuting Lea's last point but not acceding either. Marita made a mental note that Robert could be a retired adventurer himself. Given his current profession and demeanor likely some form of sellsword.

"But they haven't been back here in a long while. They used to be gone for maybe a few weeks at a time, maybe a month. It's been over half a year since the last time they stopped by." Marita wanted to ask a bit more, but she could sense the tavern starting to bubble with more life in her spine. She'd have to set aside any more investigation until after the end of the shift most likely. The cleric finished the last her stew and passed it over to Daisy to wash. At the very least she'd have time to think about what to do from here, along with more information to pass along to her teammates. She could only hope that Kathryn was able to turn her drinking contest idea into something productive.

"Well, it's been fun. I think we need to go back out there." She said to her coworkers. She took a deep breath, steeled her nerves and went back out into the battlefield.

Kathryn at this point was pretty certain she had made friends with the locals. Though tonight was a bit less productive then she would have liked, she hoped that at the very least she was able to make things smoother during the rest of the investigation. "Aye, a rather strait forward job. But it pays the bills." Kathryn replied Lawrence on his comment about her work. "Let me tell ya, I appreciate any help you can offer." He seemed to put together the dots about herself, her new group, and the liberation of the win cart. As he praised her, she couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt. They were too late to stop a body count. Kathryn accepted the wine with a smile on her face. She didn't want praise for the job. She saved booze, let her companion take a hit she didn't need to, and left with little remains of the man to be buried. Even now, her investigation had leaned away from being helpful. She hoped for better things as the night went on, but she had to step up her game in the following days. Kathryn gave a thanks to those who cheered, shook hands with those who came up gracefully, and was polite about the whole thing despite her thoughts on the situation.

It seemed Curly had an identical thought on wine as Kathryn did. Though Kathryn would drink the offering, wine of any kind was far from her favorite. "Ya sure you wanna do this mate?" But Curly had made up his mind, he wanted to win his free beer. Kathryn figured the way the night had gone both ways were a win. If he won, she'd likely be able to get these men to spill the beans about anything going on in town here. If she won, free beer. Kathryn removed her steel gauntlet again placing it on the table next to her wine.

The two locked hands and locked eyes. This time Kathryn double checked to make sure she was well positioned, she braced herself better then last time. And this time she made sure not to underestimate her opponent. She figured to knock him out of the match quick to avoid any sudden surprises. Normally she'd like a chance to wear down her opponents and catch them off guard, but now she had been drinking, a lot. And Curly had shown to be a rather powerful threat. The two gave a brief nod to each other and began. Curly's arm buckled under Kathryn's sudden display of vigor and athleticism. His elbow did not slip. His chair did not wobble. Curly's arm slammed down on the table in such a way that jerked him fully out of his chair, hitting the floor so hard it rattled his now empty mug off of the side, to clock him soundly on the side of his head. Wobbly and confused, he rose and managed to get out the words, "I take my tea with milk, thank you," before sitting heavily back into his chair, cross eyed. Maurice covers his losses by slapping coins on the table.

Soon after Curly hit the floor Kathryn had both of her hands up to her face as if to hide her embarrassment. "I'm. So sorry." She spoke as if she had suddenly sobered up. Kathryn wasn't sure anyone heard it as soon after the man had asked for milk with his tea the crowd that had showed up to watch began to cheer. Nothing to keep people happy and entertained like a grown man getting knocked out cold. Kathryn rushed her steel gauntlet back on and snacked the coins from the table. "I'll be... right back." And she rushed her way back towards the bar trying to grab Roberts attention. "Beer." She said in a semi panicked voice. "Please..." She spoke again after a bit of hesitation. This would likely have to be her last one for the night. Though she was not shy of getting into fights, she didn't particularly enjoy knocking out civilians for the hell of it. Given a moment to calm down, she'd check with the lot of them on the way out tonight. "Make it two. One for me and one for the lad who just kissed the floor."

The intriguing possibilities of what she suspected lay to the south drew Victoria's attention. It made sense that the Honey Barn would be the perfect spot for an afterparty (and an excellent place to pick up some extra spending money while simultaneously showing off; two pastimes of hers). The place was not dissimilar to other, similar establishments with which Victoria was familiar, the vast majority of which had a closing time well beyond that of more respectable places.

Yes, Victoria wanted to head that way, but she was being followed by an animated hog which was pulling an errand-cart full of bottles of alcohol. Considerations beyond the mundane logistics of what she might do with her belongings aside, she simply didn't want to bring that many loose bottles of wine into a place of abject hedonism in the middle of a celebration. More bluntly, she didn't feel like sharing with the locals. So instead of braving the side streets of the Township by her lonesome (except for Morty, of course), Victoria took the better lit and more familiar path of the main thoroughfare west, to the fountain in the center of town.

There were very few people out and about at this time, at least relative to the hubbub that buzzed about the town before. A few late nighters headed east, to the Madame Marcie's place, Victoria imagined. There were a couple of odd looks at the strangely decorated Bard as she sauntered past the splashing and gurgling stone centerpiece on her gently curving route south. She shined them on with a look, an expression, or a wave in a display of disarming social agility, as was her bailiwick. So without regard to being a lone Half-Elf of stunning, nigh deityesque qualities wearing death cosmetics being followed by a hickory-smoked abomination toting a clinking cart full of wine in the middle of the night, Victoria was completely unmolested by the populous at large thanks to her subtle and shiny powers of unspoken persuasion. One even stepped out of her way with the tip of a hat and a polite bid of a pleasant evening before stopping to pet Morty. It was a little unsettling.

Curiosity concerning the fountain and its place among a township whose greatest claim to fame was agricultural trade got her wondering about what source of water fed the thing, how it had gotten there, and where the water went following its ascent and descent. Careful watching and listening, even while walking by, gave a fast indicator of signs of a drainage system along the main streets' sides. Curious little point. It must have been the river itself, utilizing the very storm drains that kept the town from flooding. She would file that tidbit away for later. Any more conjecture on this thought was suddenly smashed by someone greeting her in passing. It was a familiar face, sort of, which gave a familiar if not amazingly accurate greeting of, "Morning'!", startling Victoria out of her thoughts. The man continued, "Nice day for fishin', ain't it?" followed by a genuine sounding chuckle of, "Huah huh!" before he and his grand, sturdy fishing pole continued on in the night to whatever business called him hither.

Victoria was content to label this one of the oddest nighttime strolls of her adult life thusfar and simply continued to her ultimate goal - the hayloft, that she might store her ill-gotten wine and the cart which bore it. She tried to ignore the sounds of novice voices singing about (if she got this correctly) women with large posteriors floating from behind the fog, somewhere to the west of her.

And so Victoria found herself now outside of said loft, one tiny pull-cart and sides of pork poorer, yet again reviewing her options.

“Ohh, but I have perfect uses for a good tearful performance!” Kosare quickly defended with a smile.” I’m going to use it to get all the foodstuffs and drinks I could whenever I’m at a new place!” She added grinning.” And maybe finally get that way too well armored warrior to take off those pieces of metal so I can see those strong muscles!” The tiefling quipped, meaning fully innocent things since she was really just overly curious to see Kathryn’s well trained body with the eye of the appreciator for fine trained bodies…. And to get piggy back or shoulder rides.

“Ohh yeah, it’s great! I mean… I’ve tasted more refined ones on occasion when I was growing up back home in the tavern, but this one’s very very nice! It would be even better if we get some cheese! Cheese and bacon!” She proclaimed with utmost certainty. A good wine required decent cheese! And that in turned called in her mind for a fine piece of meat to go along with it. Though on that train of logic, she wondered what would happen if she combined it everything with a flatbread or maybe if she cooks the meat with the wine!’ Ohh… questions, questions!’ The list of things she had to try at a later date was only increasing! She really had to start testing some of those things and see the result.

“Ohhh sounds like they are indeed protecting something very important indeed!” She mused and was already filing said information for later. If it wasn’t always the case in the past, it meant something weird had happened and that Cavedish person was involved in schemes of some sort! Also it would be a good place to keep people who don’t you don’t want to be found… Kosara was now very curious of what Calfenfish was up to in those high walls of his. He didn’t seem too pleased with the group’s arrival earlier. Maybe… somehow he was involved with the goblins? Could be? They did have too good weapons the party had noted in general? Curious…’ … Alright Callendish, I will find out what your ploy is! And if it's evil, I will have grand public reveal! With drums! And nooses... whatever those are!’ She thought merrily, already having immense subconscious fun by calling him the wrong names without even realizing it much.

As the market gradually turned towards a more relaxed casual dinner situation, Kosara still had fun. Especially when the singing began from somewhere on the sides. She had immensely gleeful expression and the unusual and fun lyrics of a rather funny song. It was just the type of song people sang and played when drinks were freely flowing! Grandpa had told her to not listen when she was younger, but living and growing up where she did, it was inevitable to encounter them. It was all jolly fun really. Eventually however, Kosara figured it was time to get going.” Hey, Beppo, thank you for the lessons and the nice time! I think I will get going though, it’s getting late and I should go find my friends for the night and see how they passed their time!” She told him and stood up, granting him a quick lightning fast friendly hug before dashing away, heading back to the hayloft. She planned to see if anybody was there and report she was going to go check out the Municipal Building! Maybe the sneaky monk or V would have returned so they could go on sneaky adventures. Admittedly they could go on merry adventures at the bars and the Honey Barn too! So with a jolly tune and humming the song about the Fanny lady, she skipped along towards her destination. She was so writing this song down.

Rickard bids the couple a good evening and thanks them for their time. As the couple left the sudden shout from the center of the tables to the barkeep drew his attention to the happenings there. Apparently some of the locals were in company of someone who had recovered a cart of wine, and one of them was buying some of the Zinnoberrot. Rickard had to maneuver through the crowd to get a better view of the table. Once in a better spot he saw the person was locking arms to contest one of the locals in a match of strength. She was a large woman clad in mail, easily much taller than everyone here. Quicker than he would have expected, the woman slammed the other man's arm down onto the table. The force of it seemed to throw the man off balance and he spilled out of his chair, and his empty mug rocked on top the table a moment before following its user.

The crowd seemed the enjoy the fact he had been knocked pretty hard. The woman on the other hand seemed rather upset, possibly embarrassed, by the ordeal. She retreated to the bar after putting her gauntlet back on and retrieving the coin. It was an odd sight and caught his curiosity for the moment. Rickard watched her movements cautiously wondering what her business her was. Armored like that she is likely a caravan guard. Though she could have been hired as an extra guard for someone.

He walked to the bar just a few steps away from the mailed woman and set his cup on the counter and two silver. "Another Zinnoberrot please." While Bob had turned to dribk, Rickard half turned to the tall woman. "Good evening, that was quite a display there. I'm sure he will be feeling that come the morrow. Are you from here? I'm looking for the son of a family friend and no one seems to know what happened to him." He paused when Bob returned and set an extra silver on the bar for the barkeep.

Weather: Remains cold, just above freezing. The air is still, interspersed with occasional light winds. The fog remained thick and buttery, spread liberally across the grand slice of toast that was Avonshire.

Far above the Township, beyond the reach of the fog and yet still visible (though diffused) through it, a waxing gibbous moon looms large in the nighttime sky. The temporary villages and family clusters of campsites outside of the walls; tents and wagons of many varieties, began to settle in more solidly for the night. Fires burned low. There was a great sense of finality overtaking the outside of the walls. Inside, the number of people on the street was now vastly reduced. Lamps were allowed to burn out in many places, leaving dim light in the few remaining parts of town where people were still active.

Again, many of these details will not be readily available to persons who remain indoors, though reasons and excuses are abound for stepping out to get some night air. Then again, there are a number of good reasons to keep yourselves inside, so, follow your bliss on that one.


At this point in time, things are becoming stable in Bob's little slice of heaven. Not slow, persay, but the hectic pace from earlier had mellowed considerably. No new patrons have entered the establishment in a while, and anyone without a designated place to it and relax had filed out. Tables were mostly full and no one was ordering food anymore, though calls for refills were commonplace. About half of the barstools were open, the other half claimed by locals, and Robert used this opportunity to begin some spot cleaning. The classic image of an older barkeep wiping down his profession's ubiquitous horizontal surface of smooth, polished wood (or a "bar", for you purists) with a damp rag was represented adequately his hour.

Back in the kitchen, the meal between Lea, Daisy, and Marita had concluded. There was general agreement with Marita's sentiment about getting back out to the taproom floor. Daisy took the dishes from their meal and went back over to her workstation, climbed up onto her stepping-stool, and got back to her cleaning duties. On the way out, Lea noted the lessened business with a weary smile and said to her temporary co-worker, "Oh! This is much better. Marita, if you want to hang up your apron, I can handle this. If you don't, that's fine too. I've got enough in tips over the last couple of days to live on for the rest of the month. You're not stepping on my toes, either way."

The center table saw a little more action as Curly rose suddenly, despite the possible head injury and definite wound to his pride, and announced in a loud, clear, only slightly warbling voice that he needed to relieve himself. Of course, this came out as an announcement of, "I GOTTA MAKE SPRINKLES!" before he hauled ass for the door. Larry followed at Maurice's silent encouragement, to make sure he didn't fall headlong into the hole over which the outhouse stood.

At the bar, Robert noticed Kathryn and Rickard, though his business was mainly with the (sort of) "Half-Giant". He deposited the ale requested in front of her, swiftly followed by the glass of wine in front of the Elf, the latter of which he looked over with a suspicious eye, then came back with a decanter filled with a heady, red wine. "Your new friend wanted a flagon of 'the good stuff', Lady Kathryn? Well here ya go. He's going to be paying for it, too." Some common cups were plunked down next to the container of what was likely to be very good wine. Robert slid the money paid thusfar off of the bar, and went about his business.


Beppo's face turned to mild disappointment as Kosara wrapped up their time in a neat little bow and gave him a quick hug. He had little more to do than wave at the departing Tiefling, tap the last couple drops of mulled wine into his mouth, and saunter over to a gathering of locals where stew of some kind was being prepared. All things considered, it was a pretty good night for the old fellow. In very short order, Kosara's form was swallowed up by the darkness and fog, leaving the slowing actions of the Farmers' Market to their own devices.


The interior of the hayloft is quiet and calm, if a bit dark. The exterior, however, is a touch brighter. This is one of the better lit parts of town, thanks to the fact that it is across the street diagonally from Neil & Bob's, even though it is best described as dim illumination. There are a few people out here as well, each in varying stages of drunkenness. Mostly they keep to themselves. Mostly. Being men of the region and alcohol a factor, it is only a matter of time before they might note the presence of unfamiliar, apparently unattended women with aesthetic qualities far grander than to which they are accustomed. Words unbecoming of a gentleman would follow shortly thereafter.

One point to break the possible tension comes in the form of a rather large fellow staggering out of the establishment, screaming something about needing to make "sprinkles", followed by a more level-headed chap who appears to have his best interests in mind.

The stable directly across the street is closed up for the evening, and appears to have been for quite some time. From the look of it, it would not take a lot to enter the premises anyway were they determined enough to do so.

Kathryn had a lot to process. She had accidentally sent curly into the floor with a mini coma, she found herself face to face with Robert the barkeep who at this point he was less then pleasant to deal with. Then? Some strange man had come up to her. Not directly, ordering a drink first, then Initiating a conversation as a rapid followup. Kathryn chuckled briefly taking a sip of her drink. "Smooth transition Mate" She chuckled a bit more before realizing she spoke out loud. "Aye 'pologies about that. Had a few tah drink an' me thoughts are a wee bit un focused." She spoke in a bit of an embarrassed tone. At this point in the night giving up all efforts to keep her accent subtle. Though with how long she has been in the region and those around it her accent was starting to sound like a mix of both local and her former home. "BUt uh... yeah. Curly will be feelin' that for some time. Technically he's supposed tah give me a free beer for it, but I feel a wee bit bad about how hard he came down. I just thought that... Ya know... He wouldn't crash like a sack of bricks ya know?" What caught Kathryn off guard was her first lead that had stuck for the night. She was instantly regretting the amount of alcohol in her system but the shock of it was rather sobering. "Ya don't say? Looking for a mate..."

While distracted by her own thoughts Curly stood up screaming about... Sprinkles?! Kathryn grabbed her newly purchased beers and lifted them up. "Wait wait wait!" She spilled a bit more than intended trying to get the man's attention, but he was damn determined in his traumatic head injured state to go and make those sprinkles. The rest of the laborers were soon gone afterwards. "Fuckin'... Balls." Kathryn would do what she could to catch up tot he trio and try to make up the night to poor curly after what happened. In the mean time she sat down with her free beer, and Curly's pity beer. Returning to her seat she turned to face the new figure again. Getting a read on him was hard, either she wasn't as much of a people person as she thought, or she had way too much to drink. "Sorry about that... Uh... Crazy night. You said you knew someone who went missing? I'm not a local personally, but I was hired to help out some locals. There's a bit of a goblin problem going on, and after seeing some of the brutalities today, I am suspicious in their involvement with some other disappearances. Maybe they're related?" Though the elf had already ordered Kathryn had a spare beer now, so she passed the spare one towards the Rickard. Roberts came over to drop off their drinks, including the wine offered by Lawrence. "Thank you very much." She turned back towards Rickard. "As Robert's here has said, da name's Kathryn Pyke. Ser or Lady Kathryn Pyke, at your service." She paused, still deciding how professional to keep things in this conversation.

After taking a sip of her wine she faced him again. "But ya can just call me Kathryn. And I get what you mean about no one seeming to know anything." And she gave a less them subtle look over at Roberts. The man had been extremely resistant with giving her information. "But maybe we can help each other a bit? Pool the collective information and see what we got?" She paused again, realizing she forgot something. "Oh my bad, I didn't ask. What shall I call you?"

Marita paused for a moment to consider her options. On one hand, she felt responsible to finish what she started and power through the rest of the shift with Lea, some of that was due to a bit of loyalty and fire-forged camaraderie built from the hell-shift but most of it was her workaholic personality compelling her to keep going. But on the other hand, she really didn't want to do more barmaid work. Especially not with an air-soaked gown. She was given the green light by the one who needed the help most, so for once she would take the easier way out.

"If you say you're good, then I guess I'll leave you to it. Perhaps if I have more time while I'm here I might help out again if you need it. Farewell." She didn't know why she made the offer she did, but as soon as the words left her mouth she regretted them. With that said, the Cleric took a step away and took another look at the public house. Notably, the table Kathryn had been sitting at was now partially occupied by the men who'd been talking to her earlier while she was at the bar being chatted up by a half elf. Or at least they were for a minute. There was probably something going on there that she didn't feel like trying to work her way into. At least not before something more dramatic that would warrant it happened. No, right now the best thing to do was take things up with her temporary employer. Even if Lea said it was fine, it would be unprofessional to simply stop working. She strode across the public house to make it to the bar, far enough away from Kathryn to signal that she wasn't trying to intrude on whatever it was she was doing.

"Robert, Lea told me that she could handle the rest herself. Is there anything else you need me to do?"