The meeting with the L’Roses turned out fine…ish. Cecily had revealed she had felt the stalking presence that likely was the same one that V had reported on. Which in turned may have been the guards…? If the Cravenwish wanted to catch them for some reason. Eventually they separated from the duo, Kosara waving at them.” Just be careful until we figure this one out, alright!” She had told them as they left the place and headed to the Silver Smith nearby. Honestly Kosara supposed she should be more concerned, but she was also having way too much fun still. That said, she was suspicious of Krakendish’s goals. It was weird and likely it had something to do with the municipal building… A place she really wanted to have a look at later. For now though, the Silver Smith.

Studying the place on the outside it looked rather… decent? No direct places to get into. No windows that had no boards on… no places to directly climb up. Though she might still be able to climb if she wanted. For the time being however she tried to do what Kathryn was doing and look in through the boards, trying to spot things. Well the scouting proved successful when there indeed seemed to be somebody inside the building!

“Yes, we should! We can ask them politely to talk to us!” The tiefling agreed, energetically nodding her head as she and the warrior woman made their way to the front door.” Ye… let me...” She mumbled preparing her small fists, by comparison to Kathryn’s impressive form anyways, to hit the door.” One.. two… two and a few grains of sands… THREE!” What proceeded to happen was Kosara starting to knock rapidly on the door with both her hands, seemingly trying to go for a speed record on the topic of door knocking.

“Hello! Hello! Can you please at least come and talk to us~?” She called out to whomever was inside the building. They had spotted somebody.” We saw you there through the windows. We just want to chat, there’s no even need to open the door! Pretty please? I'm going to continue until you reply!” She continued, still drumming on the door as if her life depended on it. Only by this point she had dropped the speed record focus and while rapidly knocking still, she was instead going for a drum-like rhythm. To be specific it was the general attempted rhythm of that one song about the rotund lady Fanny she had heard last night. Hey it was still fresh in her mind and it kinda surfaced while drumming on the door. She wasn’t stopping or slowing her attempts at making music out of the door. She was going to continue until whomever was inside reacted in some way or another. Besides door music sounded fun. Her Grandpa was going to get a kick out of it once he heard of what she was doing.

Rickard went to the door of the public house while Victoria went to inform her cleric companion where they were going.
Outside in the street, he began to look towards the direction of the workshop. The streets were busy but would not be impede travel to terribly much. Extra attention from the locals did concern Rickard to a degree, more so when someone had moved to talk to a guard and pointed towards him and the purple clad bard. An expression of relief faintly crossed the elven knight's face when no one approached. This was likely going to be another long day.

The shop appeared to be how he left it, vacant and shut. Rickard started to draw the key from his pouch when the door was easily opened. He shook his head in response to Victoria's inaudible question. The door had been locked when he had left last night. The knight hand went to the hilt of his longsword, his shield arm raised slightly to keep the studded wooden barrier infront of him.

Cautious he stepped into the shop looking around to see if there was someone in the shop. When the half elf stated that it looked like someone had recently and poorly cleaned up the shop, the knight paused to consider who he had mentioned that he was looking for Samuel. There had been a few people, namely the neighbors and Robert. He wasn't sure if any of them could be connected to Samuel's disappearance. It could be just as possible that someone had overheard and came to clean up in an attempt to hide that Samuel had gone missing.

This thought process continued as Rickard moved to investigate the living area. Little and less appeared to be out of place from the last time the elf had looked. He returned to the workshop, shield lowered slightly, shaking his head slightly. "I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary in the living quarters. I could have swore I had locked up the shop when I left yesterday. I'm not sure why someone would come in here just to clean, and poorly as you stated. Perhaps a neighbor saw someone entering or leaving the shop after I left. The knight paused and looked around at what Victoria had pointed out wondering if whoever came in was still here. It was possible that if they were they could simply be hiding, watching, and waiting for a chance to flee.

A quick glance towards door out of caution revealed only the frame of the bards porcine companion and distant sound of the main street. "If you'd like to exercise your people skills, we can start to ask around about someone else having entered here. That or I can if you'd like to stay and see if I missed anything I'm my search of the rest of the shop."

In the middle of her conversation with Lea, Marita briefly pondered as to what it was she was going to do after this conversation was over. She did not want to sit in the Public House or return to the Hayloft and wait until the rendezvous had come, that would be practically half the day wasted. At the same time, she was the one who had insisted that nobody travel alone. Granted, all the disappearances had taken place near or during the night, these early hours were likely the safest time to take that chance if she was going to.

Still, it was rather vexing that Victoria and Rickard left so abruptly without even trying to wait for her to finish her conversation here. It wasn't like she was planning on flapping her gums for half of an hour. At the very least, couldn't have Victoria have left behind Morty, that Hickory Smoked Affront to the Natural Order? She used him as a watchdog last night, wouldn't it also be possible for the meat product to be a mobile alarm for if something happened to her? For better or worse it seemed like the best option open to her would be to roll the dice and simply try to catch up with her associates when she had a chance.

Weather: A few more clouds rolling in. The wind is gusting every so often, pushing the not intolerably damp, chill air into the clothing of those who have taken to the streets. This is certainly not swimming weather, to put it lightly. At least it is more comfortable than the previous evening.

Time: Morning! Yes, still morning, which is fortunate. Were it not, we would have either traveled back in time or lost a number of hours for which we would need accounting. In any case, we are entering the the portion of the morning where people are becoming more active. At the present, it looks to be a collection of locals going about their business. The more celebratory of visitors to this town have not entered the town proper nor moved from underneath roofs in numbers notable enough to really make a difference.

Ambience: Fog is almost a memory now. For the purpose of mechanics, vision is unobstructed. The sun is a bit shinier now, though incoming cloud cover blunts its warming rays every now and again. Noise can be heard more clearly from the Farmers' Market as those who have business there move about. To the northeast in town, poles and oars in water herald the arrival of goods, raw and worked, to the Traders' Market area of the Township. Avonshire as a whole is waking up and greeting a new day, for now minus the many, many excess festival goers.



The response from Lea, addressing Marita's news that she would likely not be returning for a shift that evening, was met with understanding and a more-or-less upbeat demeanor. "Well that's okay. At least stop back by if you can. I'll treat you to a bowl of hot stew and a glass of something nice."

Robert finished his ale, likely a weaker portion of his reserves (or an Avonshire "Morning Ale", to the locals) in a long pull and moved his dishes to the kitchen. He returned immediately to set up in his usual spot behind the bar. It was remarkably good timing, too, as the man who had run outside just returned, and the greater amount of the overnight guests filed out of the common room; maybe a dozen in total. Most found their ways to the vacant tables, but a few found their way to the bar proper, hoping to chase their maladies with the familiar medicine of fermentation.

Before Lea stepped away to see to her morning duties with these people, she answered Marita. "Andre. Hmm, well..." An uneasy look crossed her face for a moment, and she continued, "Mr. Dufour isn't a very nice man sometimes. I wouldn't call him the 'town drunk'. He does drink a lot though. Um... hmm. I heard he was reported missing after being here, but I didn't do it and I don't think Robert did either. Then again, we're not the only place that sells wine and there are other places that are open even later than we are." She waved quickly to someone at the bar, hastening to attend the clientele. "Excuse me for a moment, please. Hey, can I get you anything while you're here?" She seems open and outgoing, if preparing herself for the drudgery of a hangover shift. (Theirs, not hers.)


The interior of the Woodworker's abode/place of business remained quiet. It is tucked away from the major thoroughfares and thusly much of the noise that might arise from the Township's general awakening, and the building was quite open except for the living area up the stairs. This did have the effect of amplifying smaller noises in within its stone walls, at least now that it was only Rickard and Victoria (and Morty) within.

Unfortunately, there was not a whole lot to be gleaned from the building. To the best of their ability to suss out details, everything looked as it was left the last time Rickard has entered the location, with the exception of Victoria's discovery that the place looked like it had been poorly cleaned. Between that and the unlocked door, it raised questions. Just none they could answer at that time.

Yet, even in seeming defeat, one might realize that questions, however off they might have been, could lead to other, more potentially lucrative questions. Or horrifying red herrings set as stumbling blocks. Victoria's perceptive abilities (not something she was especially known for) key in on an odd detail. The locking mechanism on the inside of the door was adorned with a scraggly tuft of grey-brown hair, hanging listlessly at the mercy of any passing air currents. Curious, the Bard pointed it out to Rickard with a quizzical expression.



The repeated knocking on the main door of the Silversmith's had not gone unnoticed. In fact, the few (but growing) number of locals milling about on foot had stopped, very interested in figuring out what this growing commotion was along the main road, just across from the mercantile area of town, might possibly be. The unwanted attention and incessant noise along the front door culminates in a loud, seemingly desperate voice from the inside loudly proclaiming:

"CAN'T YOU READ? WE ARE CLOSED FOR THE FESTIVAL! PISS ALL THE WAY OFF!"

Oh, but that got the crowd's attention.

It was curious to Victoria that the workshop was in the state that it was. Not that she was the most fastidious of people as it came to keeping things tidy, being somewhat reliant upon minor magics of Prestidigitation for her personal needs in this regard. It was still irksome, leaving a job half-finished. The implications, were this a "foul play" scenario, were uncertain to her. In any case, she made sure that the Elf she was presently investigating with noticed it, too.

Just as curious was the fact that she was able to pick up on the detail of the stringy tuft of hair on the interior door lock. Victoria had an inquisitive and detail-oriented mind if she was actively putting effort toward surveying a scene or gathering clues. On the other hand, her attention could be more easily drawn away by shiny objects or the erratic movements of a passing butterfly if she wasn't actively attempting to investigate. Her animated swine might have had better luck with catching a random detail like that than herself. In fact, Victoria took a quick look down to her hickory-smoked companion with the off chance that it was looking in the general direction of ...something important... only to have an expected dose of mild disappointment due to the fact that this creature was only slightly less mindless than a bowl of oatmeal, and thusly had nothing to add in any spontaneous manner.

So she peered at it from a pace or two away, still hanging stuck on the door. Her following words sounded absent, hollow, as if they were not in unison with the thought foremost in her mind, "Yeah... I'll ask some questions around." That was her forte, after all. She mentally filed away the presence of this fuzzy anomaly, wondering if maybe it should be collected, or was better off where it lay.

Kosara’s jolly door drumming song, that may or may not have a jolly rhythm of a questionable piece of folk music, suddenly halted at the screaming that came from the other side of the door. There were people there indeed! They succeeded!’ Wait, what did we succeed in again?’ She thought for a moment, having lost the original goal of this in a bit of a slip of the mind, but soon recalled they were searching for clues, recovering from the surprise from the person on the inside of the building screaming at them. A thing that had apparently also gained attention from the crowds around.

“You are alive!” She cheerfully exclaimed with a huge bright smile.” Hey, we just really need to talk with you! Pretty please?” She called to the hidden person.” Look, it’s not that we are searching you for silversmithing work! Besides if you do not talk to us, I’m just gonna keep drumming on your door until you very much do now that I know you are inside!” She called out with a huge grin. She might have been a generally good person, but Kosara could be a stubborn as a mule when she really wanted something. Kind of like a child. Actually yes, she was very much like a child at times.”Also that choice of language was very very bad and impossible to accomplish!”

“So I’m pretty sure, nay certain, it’s for the best for us to talk! That way I don’t keep banging on your door, what do you say? I’m sure we can help you with something or other for your help?” She continued on and she could continue with this for a long long time indeed! Now that they knew he was inside, she wasn’t going back until one of two things happened. Either he talked to them or Cravenwish showed up to mess with the plans at which point she might as well go and check out the municipal building later! The white tiefling really hoped he talked though. Saved her the trouble of making music out of his door. Though that did make her wonder how long it would be before he snaps and opens the door if she kept knocking on the door… It was a fair question after all.

Kosara's pounded that door like there was no tomorrow. With such a rapid and and aggressive force that it seemed like she would get through the door just by creating her own little hole using her tiny fists. Kathryn found herself so stunned she forgot to knock with her! Thankfully Kosara got right to the point, enough so that whoever was inside couldn't deny they were hiding inside. When the figure inside did speak up the tone seems excessively loud. Almost as if he was trying to be louder than intended. "Please sir, we're just trying to help around and figure out what's going on." Kathryn tried to say in her least intimidating voice. Being as tall as she was her voice was rather deep for a woman, and she really had to throw her voice to sound smaller and more friendly. Trying to make her voice drop a couple octaves was rather hard though. It was moments like this she was thankful that she never took up singing.

Kathryn did an Awkward wave to the crowd, but fearing the kind of attention she got earlier she was ready to wrap this up. "Hey Kosara, I don't want to be on the spot like this much more. Let's wrap this up." She supposed watchful untrusting eyes were another good reason to not get into performing. She imagined she would be susceptible to stage fright rather badly.

Kathryn at this moment was both glad and terrified that Kosara didn't give a single shit about what others thought of her or her actions. The downside was all the watchful eyes of everyone on the street. The plus side? She was persistent as fuck, and maybe whoever was inside didn't want the attention either and was banking on Kathryn and Kosara blinking first. If Kathryn had been alone she might have, but with Kosara here? The poor bastard wouldn't know what hit him. "Please sir, we're just in town trying to help. At least hear out what my friend has to say? Maybe we can help each other out?" Kathryn wasn't confident in her situation, but she figured she could help Kosara take the lead and just be available to help where she could from here. She also wanted to keep ready though. If whoever was inside had less then good intentions than she wanted to not be taken off guard, but if she had to guess, words were the best weapon he had at his disposal. And thankfully no words or weird looks could stop Kosara.

"Ah, I see," Marita said in response to Lea's answer about Dufour. She didn't bother asking the obvious follow-up of where else sold liquor. She knew the answer would likely be the Honey Barn. If she didn't hear it she wouldn't need to acknowledge it. The ever-strengthening hunch that they would need to investigate that location only served to vex the cleric further.

Regardless, she didn't have many more questions that immediately sprang to mind, and business was picking up. With one last wave to the staff, she decided to do everyone a favor and take her leave. Lea and Robert could get to work, the customers wouldn't have their service impeded and she would be able to meet back up with Victoria, provided everything went well. Putting aside the very real chance of some outside factor going horrifically wrong as she traveled alone against her own advice, there was still the issue with navigation.

She knew where they had gone, and yesterday they had traveled all throughout town, but a single pass through did not make one intricately familiar with all the routes and locations about town. She would simply need to have faith in her natural born sense of direction. If all else failed she could ask for the half elf in brilliant purple and there was a pretty good chance that somebody would have seen the bard.

Weather: The day is beginning to look overcast; a sheet of building, atmospheric white starting to crowd out the clear blue of the open sky. The wind carries a bit of a chill to it still, this unchanged from the previous hours. It remains a welcome relief from the previous night. Short form - wear a good jacket. Cloaks are nice, too. Stylish, even.

Time: Early to mid morning. This is about the time that people have finished doing what personal business they might have and turned their efforts toward more professional pursuits. A few more festival visitors, emboldened by the increased activity, have ventured into the more public places of the Township.

Ambience: Vision is open and unlimited, the fog having been burned away by the brighter rays of the sun just before the sky became more overcast. Parts of the town are still quiet, as suits their druthers, but others are much more active. The Traders' Market is much more lively now, as goods are moved to and from boats, carts, and the like for transport. Money is changing hands in this beating, economic heart of Avonshire proper. The Farmers' Market is likewise coming to full activity. One close by might hear hawkers a'hawking the fruits of agricultural labor (literally and figuratively) as well as the sounds of tools at work. Individual bartering sessions are had among the working classes. Tents, used as cheap lodging by many, are being vacated for the day. The overnight buildup of litter is likewise being handled here, and the smell of smoking meat hangs heavily in the air, gusting with the capricious winds.


The interior of the woodworker's shop remained as still and quiet as it ever was, with the only noise coming from the pair of adventuring types within its walls. There was a seeming pause as Victoria pointed out the tuft of stringy hair caught on the door lock. Rickard took note of this for a moment, and instead of moving to get a closer inspection as his thoughtful expression might have suggested, the highborn Elf darted back toward the work area within the building. There wasn't an explanation given for the behavior, nor the sudden, voluntary removal of himself from the side entrance except for a genuine but rushed apology, describing a need to hastily look into something by himself.

Meanwhile, Marita had decent success taking in the sights and posing the occasional question to local folk who might have seen Victoria about town. It wasn't very hard, considering the fact that her style of dress was unusual for the area, her accent was foreign, and she had some of the most strikingly appealing features that these people had seen in their lives. The fact that she carried a sword and violin made her stand out, as well. Suffice it to say, it wasn't very long until Marita caught full view of a sign on a warehouse structure in the northwestern part of town which indicated that this was indeed the building that belonged to the man Rickard was speaking about the night before.

This is confirmed almost immediately when a very surprised Victoria opens the door to see the Cleric standing there. The look of surprise on her face is evident; this was very likely not expected.


As the case was plead through the door, attracting even more attention from the morning passersby, a small gathering of locals began to form on the street nearby. There was a muffled sound of something falling to the floor behind the closed portal, followed by an equally muffled, "Damn it all!" A few more seconds pass and the voice roars again, "FINE! BACK UP A STEP." There is a note of exasperation in these words.

A wooden sliding sound and a similar hollow thump followed; astute observers might understand that this was a heavy beam used to bar the door against all but the most aggressive of cattle, fitting the standard of establishments which dealt in precious metals. Ominously, ponderously, the heavy wooden door began to open. It only came open a little bit, showing a dim orange light from inside. A silhouette of a tallish form can be made out amid the glow, pulling the door open just enough to allow one to pass.

Upon entering, before one has the opportunity for their eyes to adjust to the sudden change in lighting, the voice makes itself known again, this time quieter but no less strained. "You have a loaded crossbow pointed at you. Before you do anything else, there are two rings on top of the storage box to your right. Each of you place one of them on your tongue, and let me see you do it. Inspect them however you wish, but do it right now. That, or leave immediately. Anything different and I squeeze this trigger. Understand?"

The few seconds that it took to deliver this threatening monologue allowed for better adjustment to the lighting. The man holding the crossbow looked haggard. Tired in a profound way, and nervous. Red rimmed eyes glared with desperate seriousness from above unkempt facial hair that looked like it might have been well cared for, up until recently. The air in shop itself was comfortably warm, if a bit stuffy, and the source of the orange glow is apparent - to one side of the open shop interior is a small pot forge containing a respectable amount of molten metal, under which rested a flameless heat source, putting off light as a hot bar of forge-steel might. The rest of the shop did little to resemble a silversmith's, except for a number of showpieces on a table near the front door. The shelves along the walls were mostly barren, and the main counter had upon it weapons. Simple ones, to be sure, but effective nonetheless. Daggers, a spear, and another crossbow. Behind the counter sat a well made couch, upon which was discarded a blanket and couple of pillows that did not match the furniture, themselves. There were other things here, scattered about almost haphazardly; snatches of writings and various items that looked more at home in an alchemist's or talismonger's shop than one who works jewelry and keepsakes.

His stern words pull you back to his initial bidding, "Quick about it! Ring, tongue, now."

Victoria gave a lingering look back to Rickard as he suddenly had someplace else to be. Had he found something that was more pressing to his personal task? This and a few other questions pressed into her mind until a simple fact about her situation came alight within the Half-Elf's awareness: She was alone in a building which did not belong to her, where someone was likely taken against their will, which was hastily and sloppily covered up. Victoria was no great pillar of sage wisdom (elements from her history led to to this painful but obvious conclusion), but even she could figure out that, were there nefarious forces about, she would be an obvious target for their attentions. No, it was probably best to get herself out into the public eye with measured haste. Sometimes her ability to draw attention to herself kept her safe. Safer, anyway.

The noble-born Elf had left before he divulged any information about what he might or might not have found throughout his investigation, which left the now quite solitary Bard at a disadvantage. This thought was blunted slightly by the logical understanding that she was technically not alone. Her eyes dated briefly down to her undead companion, Morty, who was standing very still with an vacant expression on its burlap-wrapped, hickory-smoked visage. Okay, so the creature was as dumb as a sack of hammers and had no initiative on its own aside from following the standing orders of its creator, but the poor mockery of life had its uses. A meatslab bodyguard with tusks was better than nothing at all.

There was also the fact that Rickard was the only one with a key to the woodworker's shop, so if she left without securing the place somehow, there would be no whisper of a guarantee that more wouldn't happen in their absence. Victoria looked about, annoyed at the obvious and poor job of cleaning which was done. It was insulting, really. And if anyone with nefarious intent showed up to complete the job, then what clues might have been left stood a greater chance of disappearing. Sighing, Victoria crossed over to the work area of the shop and snatched up a piece of furniture fabric. She carefully used it to gather up the bit of scraggly hair which was caught on the interior door lock. There wasn't a thought as to what she might do with it later on, but it seemed like it could be used as a comparison piece, provided they found something similar elsewhere. Victoria's grasp on divination was simply not suitable to the task otherwise.

Movement from the other side of the slightly ajar door caught Victoria's attention. She mentally summoned Morty over to her in case it was something more dangerous than a local shopkeeper or laborer and slowly pushed open the door a little bit more, ready for whatever might come next.

Her careful expression turned to something more pleasant when she saw that it was Marita. The door opened more fully and she exclaimed, "Why hello there, Marita!" Victoria continued, "However did you find this place so quickly? Well, no matter. I couldn't find a whole lot in here..." A thoughtful look crossed her visage as she debated saying anything else in what was open public, even if foot traffic was sparse in the area at that point in time. The Half-Elf dropped the volume of her voice a little and stepped closer, informing, "The dressmaker's place is supposed to be around here, I think. Unless you would prefer to put a fresh set of eyes on this place?" She carefully produced the hair wrapped in fabric to show briefly before putting it back away, her voice quieting even more, "All I found was this, whatever it means. And I think someone has been in here since yesterday. I might ask the Lord High Elf about the implications, but I believe that he might have parted ways with us."

The undead pig remained quietly at Victoria's heel, awaiting orders. She glanced down to it, then back up to Marita. With a whisper and mischievous smile, she quipped at a half-whisper, "Oh! Morty says 'Hi'."

Morty, well... he just stood there.

To Kathryn's surprise the man's attempts to chase off the Duo using peer pressure had back fired as Kosara seemed to lack any ability to be socially pressured in the negative at all. Had Kathryn been alone she might have caved, With Kosara? Things turned out better. As well, Kathryn wouldn't have to debate breaking and entering. Though that was something she considered, she didn't think of that as an idea she could commit too. Maybe if she had some Solid justification and/or extremely drunk she might do it. Even then, she'd need to pretty close to seeing someone get dragged in, or hear a scream inside to consider something like that.

Kathryn took a step back to let the door open. The door sounded fortified the way it was being unlocked now. Something she'd hear as if unbarring a sally port to a castle. Kathryn entered first, should this turn into a fight she figured she could take a hit better than Kosara, and if things turned into a fight Kathryn wanted to be able to strike fast and hard. Than she heard it, the mention of a crossbow. She was familiar enough with them. They could hit hard though, and many times didn't give a shit what kind of armor you were wearing. She was semi confident she could take a bolt (With regrets and pain) and still fight, so she had that assurance should this strange man decide to pull something. Kathryn listened to the condition of their entry, a ring to place on their tongues. Seemed simple enough. A quick inspection showed it to be fine. But looking at the man? She wondered if he had all of his marbles in place, or if he knew something they didn't. Maybe it was the light, the short but sharp tones, but she couldn't get a read on the man. For all she knew he could be some high priest getting ready to give a sermon. With a cross bow and rings. Though she figured someone somewhere likely did practice their religion like this, and figured it was best not to mock things just in case. Kathryn wondered if being in a silver smith's if the ring itself was silver? She figured likely but wasn't sure from looking at it.

Kathryn took the briefest of moments to inspect the place, noticing the mix of weapons though none seemingly on display. Though in the dim light they do seem well made. The man appeared to have been staying here for some time as well. Was he planning on sleeping here the whole festival? Boarded up place, fortress door, assorted weapons, and locked up the busiest week of likely the whole year? If she had to take a guess, between the man's suspicious behaviors and the crossbow currently pointed at her chest she figured something had him spooked. She snapped back to reality when he spoke up again. "Okay okay, we're going. Let's keep the bloodshed to none please." Kathryn said in her most serious tone, dropping the act of increasing the pitch of her voice to sound smaller and friendlier.

Kathryn slowly reached for the ring before sticking out her tongue and putting the ring on it. She made sure to stand just out of the way enough so that Kosara could see what was going on, and to keep herself in front still so if action did kick off she would be in the best position to react. She then spoke with her tongue sticking out of her mouth. "'ee? ong 'ongue. Ahh ey?" She attempted to speak serious again, though looking down with her tongue sticking out was rather hard to pull that off. Kathryn hoped this man had some answers. Maybe something even relevant to their case. Maybe even a chance to kick things off int he right direction. Or at least she wouldn't leave here with an appendage made of wood, iron, and feathers.

"Yes~!" Kosara most happily proclaimed as the door was opened following her very persuasive percussion door argument as of why the silversmith should talk with them! The moment hte door was opened the energetic pale tiefling rushed inside as a child expecting to find cookies into the room. Alright she didn't know what to expect, so she was pleasantly surprised of all the interesting new things on display. There was a forge in here too, probably to be expected with the word smith in the name, but one could never be certain. She also hadn't ever been inside a smithy before. It was dark... maybe cause it was boarded up? Probably, her eyes, so used to the brightness of the sun had difficulty adjusting at first before she heard the voice of the man telling them that he had a crossbow and that they should put some rings on their tongues.

"Ohh... ahmmm... alright? Sure! Tongue rings!" Kosara exclaimed as she followed Kathryn's example and quickly got hold of one of the metal bads, the weapons lining the counters forgotten for the time being as she peered at the ring in her hands. It was thin, elegant and quite pretty. Hard to distinguish it's material from the orange light glow of the fire, but after a bit of peering and a bit of rubbing on her coat with narrow eyes, Kosara concluded that it was almost certainly silver as she expected. Then she opened her mouth, putting her tongue out to put it on, before freezing for a bit, narrowing her eyes again and pulling away a bit." Hey, this is not a tongue ring! You cannot put this ring on your tongue. I've seen tongue rings, some of my sisters had some!" She began to object, but looked at Kathryn who made some silly sounds and then burst out into laughter.

The tiefling laughed hard at the amusing sounds that the warrior woman made." Ohh you meant put it ON our tongues! Alright! I thought you meant actual tongue rings! Can you make real tongue rings though? I might have to buy some as souvenirs for my sisters from my travels. Morgiana would love one!" She began babbling a she stuck out her tongue and put the ring on it." Eeeer ah idd i..! Mmm... 'astes me'alic..." She kept it on her tongue for a bit more, before she began to play around with it and finally pulled it off." Tastes weird... wonder why. My sister said gold's better, hey do you work with gold beside silver too? Can I order tongue rings? Maybe 2 sets? One gold and one silver? After the festival when you are back at work of course. If you don't make tongue rings regular rings could work too!" She asked, blinking at their host. Then her eyes moved over to Kathryn and Kosara suddenly recalled their task here.

"Ohh yeah! I almost forgot we are here investigating weirdness related to some coffin, barrel and tree goblins and now missing people too. We heard you've closed up shop and some thought you missing... I think? Seemed like a good place to look for clues!" She quickly and directly told their new friend that likely really didn't want to be friends with them right now, but too bad, Kosara had decided on the friendship already." Now I'm thinking Mr Cloverwish is plotting something since he's so grumpy! I had this theory that they may have captured you and hidden you inside the municipal building along with all the other missing people!"

It didn't take too long into Marita's trip after Victoria to get to the point of where she wasn't exactly sure where to go. She reached an intersection where she was fairly sure she should go right, but there was a good degree of doubt making her second guess herself. So she went to the nearest market stall to ask about Victoria. Behind it was a portly halfling man selling smoked and cured meats.

"Have you seen an elf and lady pass by here?"

"Ah you mean the mistress and her patron?"

"Excuse me?"

"There's no reason for a woman to dress like that if she isn't one of those sorts. Must have been pretty high class too based on how she carried herself. Madame Marcie must have have some connections in order to bring in an exotic beauty like that. Haha." He stops for a moment and checks behind his shoulder. "Don't tell my wife I said that."

"I won't." Marita replied, voice dry of humor.

"Ah right, she went that way," he directed pointing in the direction of Brindleton's Woodworking. The rest of Marita's trip played out in similar fashion. Each villager she asked would have a new story about Victoria's origin with no evidence to back it up, yet was uttered with absolute confidence.

"Bastard of an elf noble, why else carry a fancy sword like that?"

"I saw her perform last night, she's one of the fey in disguise."

"I heard from Rupert that last night she transformed into a demon and tried to eat the souls of passersby in front of the Public House."

By the time she had actually reached the store the quality of her day had taken a significant hit merely out of annoyance and overexposure to the imaginations of people with too much time on their hands. To her surprise, Victoria came out alone right as she walked up to the building.

"It was much easier to find you than to find this place. You make quite the impression on these people it seems." Marita looked at the bit of hair Victoria found and frowned. Even if this was evidence that there had been somebody here performing untoward acts, there wasn't much she could do with this. Perhaps if it were of unusual color or obviously belonging to some particular beast, but such was not the case. As for the sudden disappearance of Sir High Elf, well it wouldn't be the first time in the past 3 days someone she'd just met suddenly left without much explanation. She hoped that it would be the last. Perhaps he, unlike the others could return. At least he wasn't one of the people officially hired onto the job.

"It wouldn't hurt for me to look over this place. The dressmaker should still be there." Marita stepped into the building proper and made a few gestures that the party members possibly found familiar now.

"Blinding Light guide me."

If she was going to search this place, especially after Victoria and Rickard had failed to find anything, she was going to give it her all.

Weather: Though the sun is bright and relatively warming against the autumn winds, it is more often than not covered by a layer of blanketing cloud cover. It has officially moved from partly cloudy to mostly cloudy. Those with a head for weather might have some predictions for later in the day. Winds pick up, bringing in the scent of atmosphere.

Time: Mid to late morning. Depending upon how long one took to search, prowl about, question, or otherwise investigate things, we are hovering in the busier part of the ante meridiem.

Ambience: Things are picking up. The Township has come blaring to life, especially along the main roads crossing the cardinal axes of the soon to be bustling area. Businesses are up and going, hawkers and selling wares in the mercantile places in town, and both the Farmers' and Traders' Markets are coming to full swing. The campsites and wagon clusters outside of town have begun to empty into the places behind the walls, bringing with them money, clamor, and opportunity. The streets and any buildings open to the public are now occupied; privacy is not something one will find casually. The "party", such as it is, has not started and likely will not for some hours yet.


Marita's entry to the building occurred with nothing in the way of fanfare, though the value of one's presence rarely is recognized without the benefit of hindsight. Much to the credit of this median observation, a short time would tell whether the Cleric would make a noteworthy difference. The information provided by Victoria gave a decent enough starting point. Readily viewable was the subpar job someone or something did cleaning up after themselves, though it was a good enough job to obscure the subject of their hurried janitorial duties. In short form; neither the Cleric nor Bard knew what was cleaned, nor the significance thereof.

Away from the work area and out into the warehouse/sales floor, the furniture looked completely untouched. Nothing strange about anything here, nothing soiled or stained, etc. And nothing sloppily cleaned up by domestic amateurs. Nothing particularly out of place in the living area, either. All in all, nothing outside of the door and the workshop seemed remotely out of place.

That was, until...

Marita's discovery served as an oddly shaped piece of a jigsaw puzzle that didn't quite fit into what was already put together. The habitable areas and workshop contained places where money or foodstuffs might be held by normal people going about normal lives. Cabinets, a small pantry, a lock box behind the counter; things of this nature. They had all been emptied. This might be common for a robbery, or for looters after the fact. But what was not so common about this was the fact that the interior wood of those containers was gouged with deep scratches, like something with claws or sharp nails had emptied them quickly.


Jacques nodded soberly at Kathryn's expressed desire to not have bloodshed, but he did not waver in his attentiveness to his own defense. His eyes darted between Kathryn and Kosara, peering seemingly to pick out even minute detail before humoring to drop a sliver of his guard. When the tall warrior placed the ring on her tongue and kept it there for a time, his face visibly softened into something like cautious relief. he nodded again, now turning his full attention to Kosara.

The silversmith did his best to maintain his composure while he waited for the Tiefling to place the ring on her tongue, giving no outward indication that he might address her questions before this event took place. Satisfied by whatever result this challenge presented, he moved his crossbow's business end to the side, so that it did not point directly at either of the two women in his establishment. Actual, full relief crossed his features as he let out a breath and prepared to address his visitors.

It was about this time that Kosara began the bulk of her monologue that took them all on an interesting verbal journey, much of which was completely without context for Mr. Jacques Mallard. He flashed with confusion at the mention of "Mr. Cloverwish", and seemed fully disturbed by the accusation that he was up until recently a prisoner. Jacques began to slowly back up toward the counter, a look of pure shock and incredulity plastered across his features. His mouth moved briefly and soundlessly for a moment until he was finally able to clearly enunciate: "Get out. Both of you, right now. Get out."

Kathryn tried to withstand a chuckle as Kosara confused herself with this "Tongue Ring" Situation. Though Kathryn was only a couple steps from that point herself. The chuckle had caused the ring to fall back a little further into her mouth than she would have liked, and stopping herself from choking on the ring she weirdly got a good taste of it, confirming infact, the ring from the silver smith was infact, Silver. Or at least Silver like. Likely not the most effective way to test what a metal is made of, but in this very specific case it panned out for Kathryn. Though it did bring up the question of where she learned the taste of silver.

Kathryn's heart sank and her pokerface dropped when Kosara started explaining their mission in detail. "...Kosara..." Kathryn said weakly. There was no subtly in this mission with their tiefling friend around. Kathryn figured any theories she put together so far she would have to keep from Kosara. As Kosara explained her theory to the Silver Smith it was clear he was not pleased with it. His face went from total relief after seeing the two put the rings in their mouths, to now.... some kind of fear? "No wait, please. Lives could be on the line if they haven't been lost already. You know something, please help us fix whatever is going on!" She spoke, though the ring was still in her mouth she had pushed it to the side enough so she could speak clearly. She wasn't intentionally trying to hide it, but once things started getting tense apart of her felt it would be weird to reach up to her mouth to take out the ring, or to spit it out. Mr. Jacques Mallard the Silver Smith had no intention on listening to the due as they spoke. Apart of her debated trying to intimidate the man to make him share what he knew. But what if he didn't know anything? Not only did her legal authority mean little here, she would be someone from a privileged life, using her advantages in life and stature to belittle someone who came from a more humble background into submission. Sure, she had the stature to pull it off, and likely the force to back it. But she didn't want to be that person. Even if he did know something, it wouldn't be worth it to cross those kinds of lines. "Okay, okay. We'll leave. Please reconsider though. We're here to help however we can." Kathryn said in a quiet and as non threatening tone as she could pull. "Come on, Let's get going Kosara."

Kathryn stepped out of the silver smith. They were finally making progress and hit a dead end that they were unable to peacefully pass. Once outside Kathryn letting her helmet hang on her belt grabbed her loosely trimmed hair with both hands trying to hold back a scream. With a deep sigh she finally let out her breath and some words. "fuck buckets." Kathryn let out softly as she let go of her hair. So far on the quest she felt like an anchor who was little more than drunken muscle. And now making progress all she had were the frightened words of a man who hadn't seen daylight in god knows how long. And the silver ring. The ring which seemed to be the source of all of Mr. Mallard's relief once two people who looked dangerous and were potentially dangerous were inside of his shelter. There wasn't nothing, but there could have been so much more.

The fact that Marita blatantly ignored the message of greetings, passed along by Victoria herself from her faithful servant Morty (despite the fact that it was obviously a silly lie) gave the Bard a hint of a smile. She might call it a little fun at no one's expense in particular, but being completely fair, she did have a decent idea how much Marita disliked the signature trick of her College of Bardic Study. The thought passed briefly how the group might handle being in the presence of a group of people like her, with their undead personal assistants, trading pieces of lesser known funerary music or stories of Necromantic practices. They could be a somber lot sometimes. And sometimes when they weren't... It was best left unvoiced among her new companions.

Victoria shuffled off these thoughts, amusing as they were, and set herself back to the work at hand. Morty followed at her heel and slightly off to the side, as held to the standing mental command the animated beast had received. It stayed with Victoria in this manner as she led Marita through her observations of the woodworker's place. "I cannot speak to what Rickard might have uncovered," she explained, "as he removed himself from the building without telling me a thing. But he gave a quick search to the private quarters, up those stairs. I shall give you a hand if you like." The only thing she might do was retrace her steps, maybe try to see what details the Elf might have also seen, but this was primarily up to the fresh set of eyes on the scene - Marita. And yes, she found something ominous.

This brought about a sigh and a rare serious look from Victoria. She shook her head and walked back down the stairs, into the main area. Completely off topic, she mentioned, "You know... this place might make an excellent fallback. The man who owns it is missing, and if we can secure the doors... It's not like anyone but Rickard knows that we were here, I think. Hmm." She shrugged. There was probably a flaw to her logic somewhere if she looked hard enough. But maybe a nugget of truth might be dug out of this as a desperate Plan B.

This flight of thought passing, Victoria walked back to the workshop area and found a chair to rest upon. Morty followed, of course, though rest was not a thing he required. "I must admit, this is not my favorite part of an adventure," she said in melodic tones. "I still think there might be something else to this place, but I can be the meticulous sort when druthers take me. What course of action would you prefer to do next? If it were purely up to me, well... It's probably more responsible that it is not." Shallow and light-hearted words to partially cover for more serious internal brewings. "Obvious cleanup job, scratch marks, hair. People going missing at night. I hope the others have found out more than we have."

Well the man’s sudden and blunt rejection and switch of tones, clearly indicated something was NOT right here and his demand for them to leave didn’t help anybody.” Wait please, our friend felt stalked too like some of those missing. We were just trying to help!” She pleaded to him with nary an effect. She quivered a lip, gave a pleading expression but it was all in vain! He was not succumbing to her pleas. Maybe she should have pulled the coat open… men seemed way more likely to listen to her if she was in her usual desert attire for some reason. Her sisters had told her cause men liked her dancing outfit very much and that she should make full use of that as often as she could. She was just about to try to reject his honestly unreasonable demands when Kathryn instead agreed. She gave him a final pleading look as she followed the big warrior woman out of the silversmithy.

“...” Kosara just casually plopped down and sat on the steps, trying to figure what to do now. She had a very sad look going on even if she wasn’t trying to cry. She just wanted the adventure and to help! The tiefling woman was ready to try to help the man with his troubles if he agreed to talk, but it seemed something spooked him hard about the missing people… She heard Kathryn cuss and looked at her friend.” Well… we can… hang about and keep an eye out...” She suggested and looked around briefly.” There are other places we could also visit. Madam Marci and her girls might have info.” She quietly said, reminding of the warrior woman of their encounter with the madam of the brothel.

“Maybe we should meet up with V and Marita? Then we can decide how to proceed afterwards. It’s not like we are completely lacking in ways to progress this investigation.” She concluded her logic, but she swore in her mind that she was going to come bang on the silversmith’s door for a longer time later. Then she hopped up, her face returning to the bright, energetic and optimistic expression she usually had.” Come on, Kathryn, let’s go!” The tiefling exclaimed grabbing at the warrior woman’s left sleeve to pull her along.”Adventure awaits! If we dally we are losing time better spent adventuring! To completely misquote that weird man we met yesterday ‘a fine day for adventuring ain’t it? Huah huh!’, Let’s goooooooooo!!”

Kathryn sighed, their situation had made some progress but not a ton. "I think if we wait like stalkers outside we're risking public backlash and hostilities, and likely nothing at best. We should figure out our next step..." She said trying to sound confident, but she wasn't feeling as such. Kosara brought up the options of going to meet the rest of the party, and to also go to Madam Marci's. "We should probably meet up with the others first. Even if just to tell them where we are going, and to give them an update on the Silver Smith." Kathryn also found the inside of brothels left her feeling a bit... strange. So procrastination was appreciated. "Let's get going then. Find the others, and figure out our next step." Kathryn did love Kosara's enthusiasm. It really helped bring up moods when they were down. Kathryn reached up to her mouth, and spit out the silver ring into her steel clad hand. She debated a moment what to do with it. Apart of her knew she should return it, but it was clearly a piece to some puzzle. She made a mental note to return it the moment the job was done. And hopefully cleaned.

While she walked she pulled off her gauntlet and put the ring on her middle finger. If there was a reaction to Silver that Mr. Mallard was looking for, maybe it was something she could pick up? A good shake of the hand maybe with the silver ring on her finger? Maybe she'd spot something? Or maybe the man was crazy, and whatever he was going through had nothing to do with their current job. Last she knew, weird perfectly situational goblin attacks were never effected by silver. Though... weren't the goblins paid exclusively in silver? That could be her over thinking things again. The more she thought about it though, the more the goblins in this situation upset her. They were too perfect for their cover, and were well prepared for their mission.

As Kathryn walked she realized that it was nowhere near midday, and she had no idea where the rest of the party would be. They were at the public house to start, but unlikely they would still be there. That didn't stop Kathryn from giving a quick look in the door to confirm, and as well as poking her head into the hayloft and going "Hello?" But no one inside. TO Kathryn that left one option until midday. Madam Marci's Honey Barn. It's not that Kathryn had a problem with Brothel's themselves. Ser Lucas practically raised her in pubs an brothels. Some of those people were like siblings and parents to her. Many she returned to as an adult still treated her as such, and her to them as well. Ones she didn't spend growing up in? Were a whole different story. "_{I guess... to the Honey Barn...}" Kathryn said in a quiet shy voice. Kathryn made sure that her armor was well strapped, well setup, and was secure before walking over. She regained enough of her confidence on the walk to eventually speak back up to Kosara. "Remember Kosara. We're on a secrete mission. You can't be as forth coming as you have been. It spooks people. Don't bring up the constable. Be careful with how you bring up anyone that has gone missing. Remember, we're here for goblins. We don't want a repeat of the Silver Smith situation." Kathryn said, before realizing they were at the front door of the Honey barn. And all of her confidence drained. She would let Kosara make the first steps.

Marita looked all over the building and found the place more or less empty and untouched, at first. For awhile it seemed like perhaps nothing had actually happened here and this was merely a red herring, a dead end with no actual clues. However, her inborn meticulousness drove her to keep looking, you might not know what you miss if one gave up early. Although her years in the clergy didn't cover any physical investigations such as this, they also taught to not let up the light, let it burn away even the smallest fringes of dark to fester and renew.

And her vigilance paid off. She opened a pantry: empty, but more than that, deep gouges in the wood. Neurons began to connect pieces of information together that had previously been left unchecked. She opened the next drawer to find it the same. She moved from every pantry, cupboard and dresser opening them to find them in a similar state. At first she did this calmly, but as the pattern repeated itself, her pace increased until she was frantically moving throughout the building. When she throwing open the last cabinet door she simply stared at it for a long minute before turning to Victoria.

"Call this a leap in logic," Marita spoke up, her voice shaking just the slightest bit, "but I think I've figured out the underlying mystery. At least to a degree. People disappearing only at night. Sometimes returning changed. The shadows in the eyes of the locals. The locked up silversmith. That hair. Lycanthropy. Werewolves."

Weather: Though the sun is now mostly blocked by a thick cover of clouds. This hasn't affected the temperature too much, but that breeze is becoming more noticeable. Mostly Cloudy summarizes things pretty well. A note of dampness can be detected in the wind; cool humidity that chases the overcast sky, just as blanketing and omnipresent.

Time: Mid to late morning still. While the illumination of a muted sun does not descend from directly overhead, it is closer to this point than to the horizon of its origin.

Ambience: Oh, the tourists are back. Not quite in full force, but enough to make a piece of casual weekday business appear to be a solid payday shopping venture. Local businesses that are not directly catering to the festival overall are experiencing an uptick in business as well - mostly from people they know as locals who wish to get personal exchanges out of the way before tending to their own trades. The Farmers' Market is hopping, selling goods, harvested edibles, and performing services related to upkeep and travel maintenance. Those contestants preparing their barbecue are still at it, working in shifts to produce huge amounts of hogflesh with aromatics and sharp woodsmoke wafting about the greater area of the town. The Traders' Market is bustling at a good pace as well, accepting travel from the river and roadways both. Papers, pen, and the occasional abacus make their appearance as money and goods change hands - no great marketplace of a grand city's mercantile district, but it is fairly impressive for an agricultural community.

The tent and wagon campsites outside of town are less active, thanks to the ingress of these people into the Township's walls. Temporary roadside stands are still operating smoothly, hitting up those traveling toward the settlement proper as well as leaving it. It seems like a different country, almost, out here.



The interior of the shop was quiet, with only the occasional muted sounds coming in from the streets outside. Even then, only the more abrupt of noises really came through. This part of town did not cater to the festival, for the most part, so things stayed calm in comparison to other parts of town. Between the quiet and the still, open spaces of the building, one might feel that Marita and Victoria were quite alone. Even though the sun was hidden for the most part, the strategic placement of warehouse windows allowed the light of day came in well enough through to give a clear, unobstructed view of the whole interior. Those rare occasions that the clouds parted, it was positively brilliant inside.

The musings of what the clues might add up to seemed to echo within the hollow structure, giving pause to the moment. Words like "Lycanthropy" were not merely tossed about in polite society. There was time enough to consider this piece of supposition, even partake in a little conversation about it, until a point when the sun broke through the clouds once more. This time, however, one of the brilliant shafts of light was infringed upon.

Marita was the first to notice it. Victoria remained ignorant until any change of expression or posture came from the Cleric. But just a sure as day, part of the window to the north of them was taken up by a pallid, grubby face. The face was deep within a ragged hood and belonged to a boy, who had pressed hands around and sides of his hood to better glimpse what went on inside. When his discovery was noted, he acquired the most startled of expression and fell back from the glass aperture. As the face disappeared, a respectable thunk could be heard outside, followed by stomping footsteps retreating on the ground and gravel outside the building.



Travel to The Honey Barn was crowded only at first, starting from the Silversmith's place. The commotion and fast exit of the two outsiders drew even more attention as many curious eyes and still feet gathered to see what new and juicy bits of gossip might be gleaned from this situation. Yes, there were stares. A Human woman taller than probably any man in this area and a Tiefling, rare enough and pointy-horned just like the illustrations in those storybooks that kids love so much, being kicked out of a building presumably locked, boarded up, and unattended. It drew attention.

Once one breaks past the gathering (which was beginning to create a bottleneck in the main thoroughfare), it is a clearer walk in the direction of The Honey Barn. As a matter of fact, the visible amount of people thins dramatically. The trek involves crossing the river, affording a decent view of the Traders' Market from a certain angle and the sporadic river traffic as well as the incoming road traffic from the east. This part of town does not seem to resonate with the festival crowd. Some of these buildings are obviously personal dwellings, but they seem quiet. Sleepy even, as if populated by very late risers or folk who wish to be left alone in the face of overwhelming festivities. There is a small copse of trees nearby, like a small park amid the residential structures

Soon enough, the more familiar face of The Honey Barn can be picked out. Moving a little closer, it is apparent that they are very much not open for business. The streets here, such as they are, remain open and unpopulated with the following exceptions:

Two Humans wearing the attire of town guards and carrying spears were standing rather informally outside of the Honey Barn, just milling about impatiently. The main door cracks open just enough to allow a familiar figure to exit. He had a plain cloth coinpurse in hand, heavy with and said behind him, "Yeah. You tell your mistress I'm glad we got an understanding about things. It'd be a shame otherwise. You all are practically a landmark." He jingled the money before shoving it into a pocket. "Hope you enjoy the rest of the festival." That last remark was tinged with some sarcasm.

Constable Cavendish lay his hand on the head of his hammer, tucked away on his belt with a leather covering, causing the guards with him to reflexively flinch just a little. The three do not appear to have noticed those approaching quite yet, involved in their own business.