“Alright, to adventure!” Kosara proclaimed as she began walking, basking in the attention they had garnered, letting it not bother her in the slightest honestly. She liked the attention, what could she do? A performer by trade and heart, she lived in the spotlight despite not being a bard. They made their way back over, passing by the public house and she watched and waited while Kathryn checked if their friends were present. They were not, so onward with the adventure it seemed.” Yay! Let’s go! I’m sure there’s lots of adventure to be had and the ladies there are bound to know how to maintain your beauty this far north. The cold is so unpleasant and rough on the skin. I really need to check if there's a temple of Sune in this town. They have the best stuff.” She complained a bit, but was energetically walking towards their destination, having noted Kathryn’s quiet voice.

“Hmm?” She tilted her head in reaction to Kathryn calling out to her as they walked, they weren’t far from the Honey Barn now, so she was curious what the warrior woman had to tell her. The confusion on her face grew bigger as she listened.” But… we are searching for the missing people and the constable is fishy?” She asked hopefully, but listening to the full speech, she was confused again.” But… but… I got to ask? It’s the truth and… I ammm… confused.” She finished her statement, wracking her brains out, looking like somebody who had a world affecting question cast upon them.” I… hey what’s going on there?” She asked, doing a complete switch in topics as a rather curious scene was unfolding before them. A scene involving a certain Cloverdish. Point one he had a coinpurse, point two he looked grumpy, point tree he was talking like a bad man. Was he trying to extort money!? Ohh why that puffed up good for nothing sack of camel crap, she was about to go and give him a piece of her mind, when she halted, recalling the talk she just had with Kathryn and making the mental logical conclusion that this was mean grumpy evil man being mean and grumpy.

Well they were at a bit of a predicament, grumpy man and friends might see them and they knew that he was weirdly interested in them.” Kathryn, what do we do? Do we hide, do we confront them or do we just walk forward pretending we ain’t seeing him?” She asked the warrior woman in hushed hiss as they were kind of short on time to decide. She was already looking at possible hiding spots, to allow the constable evil man and company to pass by so they could get to the Honey Barn to hopefully get answers or just to follow him. Confronting him was the RIGHT course of action as Grandpa would tell her. Possibilities possibilities… Kosara really wanted to just walk forward and see what happens and she looked at Kathryn with big expecting eyes.

Of all the things that Victoria considered as a possibility, she had to admit that this one might lean toward the direction of far-fetched. "Lycanthropy?" the Bard echoed. She shook her head to dismiss the the possibility. "No, that can't be it. I've read many writings on the subject of Lycanthropes. This?" She gave it some thought, and a worried expression began to grow across her otherwise sterling features. "No, werefolk are quite well known for making a lot of noise. Brutal, mindless killers when the moon presents just so, and... and that's mostly the Infected ones who don't know or who struggle against it." She gave thought to what they had seen and heard so far, summarized by Marita just then. Her expression spoke of internal dissidence, as what she wanted did not align fully with the facts presented.

"If you are correct, and please bear in mind that I am not saying that you are, this is a little strange for Werewolves." She pulled out the wrapped bit of hair and gazed at it for a moment. "The Lore of Lycanthropy speaks of three different kinds of Weres; Natural, Infected, and Cursed. Those natural-born fluidly exist as such. Infected have a lot of difficulties unless they embrace their new, animalistic tendencies. And then they change in ways. Cursed ones, voluntarily anyway, can be a problem. If what you're saying is true, and those who came back from being missing are part of it, then there is no telling how many of these persons at the Festival are... Gods be merciful." Her trip into supposition did not vocally express her question as to what fate might have befallen those who did not come back. "That is, of course, if you are right about Lycanthropy. What in the Nine Hells would a bunch of Werewolves want in a town like this?"

Victoria let the question hang in the air for a short moment before adopting a lighter expression and quality about herself, She crossed her legs and lay her hands on her knees, looking quite nonchalant and girlish in the light of the window behind her. "There must be a half-dozen explanations that might yet fit, before we jump to something hasty. I would assume there might be more obvious blood around town." As much as she hated to admit it, the facts did support a possibility of Lycanthropes as she knew them, but not perfectly. Her face, optimistic as she could make it, still bore a tinge of doubt. She glanced down to the slim sword buckled at her waist, musing aloud, "I wonder where a lady might get something silvered at this time of day, hmm?"

Kosara's positivity really helped to bolster the mood. Kathryn was trying to find her place in the mission and found herself as a bit of an oaf. Though she could hold her own in combat, she had few skills outside of that with a blade. She could sweet talk from time to time sure, and it's not like she was poor at other skills, though she wasn't exactly good at them either. Though she was getting a better understanding how to use what skills she did have, she would have to work on things as time went on. Though these thoughts were easily pushed aside working with Kosara. "Aye, it'll be a great adventure." Kosara made some comments about maintaining beauty out this far north. "Personal beauty isn't something I've worried about too much. Growing up it just... wasn't a real concern for me. It took time, a lot of time. And Ser Lucas and I rarely could sit still for too long." She and Ser Lucas had many enemies, most were connected to the family that had attacked her home when she was little. Some were made taking jobs that others would rather leave not finished. And many were from people who had attempted to cause harm to those who couldn't protect themselves, and Ser Lucas and Kathryn found themselves getting involved. Though this far north? It wouldn't be worth anyone's efforts to keep coming after her. "Not that it's something I don't care for just... It's something I haven't taken the time to care for." She didn't put in no effort, but she had to keep her hair tied up so it wouldn't be exposed and a weakness on her armor. And she only recently had money to replace some of her damaged gear. Outside of basic washings and what limited options she had with her hair, she wasn't able to pull off a lot.

The walk through the calmer part of town was nice. No stares of people judging her, no crowds of people gasping and pointing at her, no one accusing her. It was nice, the view of the market, the quite homes, the calm local streets. It reminded her of what she thought city life would be like when she first went on the road with Ser Lucas. She was wrong, though Avonshire was likely pretty close outside of the festival season. The Honey barn was easy to spot wedged in between the local homes and shops not common in the main market places. Her heart sank when she saw the towngaurds. Maybe the bad feeling was unjustified, but with how things started this morning Kathryn was a little concerned. To Kathryn's surprise, Kosara held some restraint on the matter, but she found herself unsure either. She vaguely remembered the ring she wore on her hand. The silver tasting ring that was the deciding factor for the Silver Smith's reactions. "Let's... be casual. Walk up, say hi. Maybe ask what's up but let's not confront them here. We'll hear what's going on and if they refuse to talk we'll ask the staff inside once the guards leave." She didn't want a conflict with the town guard. She also had no understanding of what may be going on. For all she knew? This was some regular tax service for businesses. Collected by the local law. The head of the local law. With a lot of suspicious under tones. So Kathryn had her doubts. But she didn't want to start any trouble. "Casual. We want to collect information. Not to get into fights. Nor create more obstacles." She wasn't sure if she was telling herself this or Kosara, but she was anxious and had to fight down that fear before continuing.

Kathryn walked up to the front of the Honey Barn as casually as she could. She realized at this moment though, outside of the job she was hired to do she had no idea of an excuse to make up should she be asked about it. She hoped she was asked, and if she was she could make something up. Kathryn took note of the other guards flinching at the sight of Constable Cavendish grabbing his hammer. She didn't like that one bit. It only reassured her that getting into trouble here was a bad idea. "Good mornin' Lad's and Lassies." She spoke without hiding any trace of her accent. She hoped it would distract from any concerns she had in this moment. "You nice folk getting some companionship? Or jus' some drinks?" Kathryn remembered briefly that she never formally introduced herself to the man, and outside a single sentence each, she hadn't talked to the man much. "Aye, you're the Constable right?" Kathryn internally wanted to leave her steel laced glove on, but she wanted answers. Sliding off the gauntlet with the silver ring under it she reached out her bare hand and offered to shake it. "I don't think we've properly met, Name's Lady Kathryn Pyke of Arcanaple." Kathryn spoke with a big toothy grin that combined with her hair tied back she may have looked like a bit of crazy person, or a really tall peasant who somehow got her hands on armor. "I'd like to thank ya for your services to this lovely community sire. It's nice to get an easy job for once." Kathryn spoke as well with heavy over confidence. Hoping to get the Constable's guard down and let him ease up a little. Maybe let her gain something from him. Let him slip up.

"I would love to be wrong," Marita tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear "and that the answer to this mystery is something far more mundane. I have no hard proof, at this point it's little more than a hypothesis, but at the moment I'm about seventy percent confident in it. Even if it's not lycanthropy, I'm fairly certain some degree of shapeshifting is involved now. There's no way that something that could have caused those gouge marks would have been able to avoid detection in a village like this otherwise." Marita shifted her body weight from one leg to the other, as if manually changing her mental gear.

"As for where to acquire silver," the faintest of smirks briefly flickered across the cleric's face, "my amulet is composed primarily of sterling silver, although at best it would likely only work as a minor ward. I doubt it would be very useful if we were unfortunate enough to end up in a combat situation. Well, aside from acting as a focus. Perhaps we ought to check out the silversmith. It's boarded up, but maybe there's something inside there we can use." Marita grabbed her holy symbol and inspected it before frowning. The jewelry was in shadow, while the arm that held it was bathed in sunlight. She knew she was standing in front of a window, why would this happen. She turned and saw the silhouette of a head peeking through at them. As annoying as such an outcome was, she silently thanked Pholtus for using the light to clue her in on the spy.

Without explaining anything to V, Marita rushed out of the store to chase after the kid. She knew there was no time to lose before he got away, and she trusted the bard to recognize that there was a good reason for her actions and follow suit. Luckily for her, Victoria (and Morty) lived up to her expectations, their foot(hoof)steps thudding behind her. As she made it out of the building, she cursed that the boy was too far away for her Voice to effectively reach, a bit closer and there was a good chance that this entire encounter could be cut short. Alas, things had to be settled the hard way. However, her daily diligence in personal training paid off in moments like this, there was no doubt in her mind that she would be able to run him down.

And in the initial stages of the chase, that's exactly how things were playing out. The combination of her physical fitness and longer legs had her quickly close the distance between the two of them. If nothing changed soon, the boy would be caught in the blink of an eye. He knew that too, so suddenly her veered off into the gap between two buildings, trying to lose the women in the nearby alleyways. However, Marita was able to keep track of him throughout, and although she had a much harder time maneuvering through the tight spaces and sharp corners, she managed to keep pace all the way until he emerged back onto the main road.

What Marita hadn't seen coming was that they would emerge right by a nearby group of boys wrestling with each other to pass the time. As the fleeing target ran past, he yelled to them "You gotta help me out! They're going to give me a whooping!" The children who weren't busy heard his cry and immediately began pelting Marita and Victoria with rocks. The cleric tried her best to avoid getting hit by them and not to run directly into any of the children, raising her arms to shield he face. It was then that she dearly wished she had brought her shield with her. By the time they had managed to circumnavigate the youths, the boy had managed to gain a significant amount of distance between them again. Marita took in a deep breath and picked up the pace, sprinting just as the child turned another corner.

"At this rate he might be able to slip away before we can catch up. We need a change of tact. Victoria, I'm going to slip through those buildings there, you keep following him and we'll catch him in the middle." Of course she didn't know the layout of the village alleys, but as long as the boy was on the main road, it wasn't too hard for Marita to navigate for this purpose. Through the cracks of the buildings she caught the boy looking behind his shoulder trying to see where she went, but he was looking in the wrong direction. Foolish child. His distraction slowed him enough that she was able to overtake him and emerge on the other side. They almost had him, except he managed to make a last ditch course change and run into the main thoroughfare, straight into the crowd of people.

Marita clicked her tongue in distaste, he had managed to break out of her line of sight, however such was not the case for Victoria. With a quick call, she was able to direct the cleric's attention to him trying to hide behind a wagon full of imported produce. Breathing hard from the extended chase, and having had enough, Marita walked around to find him crouching behind a barrel. He yelped in surprise and tried to bolt again, but she firmly grabbed his upper arm and held him still.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you that it's improper to spy on others?"

Weather: Though the sun is now a thing best hinted at by a spot of relatively brighter clouds than those around it. The temperature is not amazingly uncomfortable for the season, although that wind is beginning to make things interesting. Fully Overcast is the phrase of the hour. Even a novice to the concept of weather might have coming rain on their mind.

Time: Late morning. Not quite lunchtime, though some might have already broken into the builders' tea for that late morning slump.

Ambience: The weather, while almost comfortable, was chased off a section of the less aggressive tourists. This has resulted in a more-or-less even amount of people within the Township while the numbers were expected to increase. Businesses remain doing businesslike things, selling wares and chatting up the clientele with regulated cheerfulness. Everywhere, people engage in small talk about recent events and the weather. Unfortunately, things in this area are becoming quite dark on both fronts, literally and metaphorically as the case stands. The scent of hard-smoked pork is a little bit of everywhere on the western side of the Township; none stronger than in the Farmers' Market, where sits the most diverse collection of local crafts and foodstuff during the most fruitful part of the year. Over in the Traders' Market, the initial morning push has come and gone. With is it the major hustle and bustle, though trades, importing, and (to a lesser extent) exporting are still ongoing.

The groupings of wagons and tent circles outside of the walls are tying down loose ropes and making makeshift shelters for their animals, owing to the weather expected to roll in if the sky is casting the appropriate signs. Those temporary merchant stands which sat near to the road were still hawking wares, though with less gusto.


Marita soundly grabbed enough of the waif's arm to halt his progress. The first thing that might be noticed was the very basic craftsmanship of the rough, brown woolen coat the child wore. This was not a person who came from money. The second thing might be the slender, bony nature of the boy's frame, readily observable by Marita, whose hand was closed around his extremity.

The kid was caught and he knew it. Terror flooded over his face, far more than than was appropriate for being caught peering through a window. He struggled and twisted in the stalwart Cleric's grasp, getting more desperate in painfully short seconds. People traversing the main thoroughfare began to notice and look on at the spectacle unfolding, their expressions akin to one idly viewing a pickpocket getting admonished in public. One however, a stocky woman in possibly her early thirties pushing a small, wheeled cart laden with vegetables, blurted out, "I think I know that kid! Yeah! Where..?"

Desperation rose to tactile heights in the boy. He was visibly trembling at this time, hair bristling up on his neck. Visibly bristling. And that wasn't all. He whined once and scrambled to pull free, but the sound came out in less of a vocal utterance and more of a muted squeal. He turned to face his captor, and what little light came through the clouds high above reflected a dull red hue from within his eyes. The features of the waif's face shifted just a little, revealing a slightly more elongated nose and sudden protruding of thick, rectangular incisors. Not everyone was capable enough to see these alterations, but those closest took in a collective gasp. One screamed a high pitched, whistling cry. It was an aproned pastry guy named Randy, or so referenced the nametag. "What did you do to him?" questioned another. Public reaction to this varied from person to person nearby as some gathered closer and others cleared out as fast as they could, while still others stayed put to see the show.

The boy's muscled contracted, seeming to grow denser as he got even thinner, more emaciated. The whole process was less than a handful of seconds. This situation was fast becoming one of confusion, and in this confusion, the kid gave one last, slippery wrench at Marita's hold.

He pulled free and darted away between and among the crowd, low to the ground, with unnatural movement - but left his coat behind.


Cavendish lost his smile of smug satisfaction upon catching sight the pair, Kathryn and Kosara. he listened to what she had to say; took in all of the pleasantries, and all the while kept a wiry and observant look about himself. As Kathryn wrapped up and extended her silver ringed hand, the Constable rested one of his hands on the covered head of his hammer and cocked his head to one side, as if to look behind the two of them. Then he took a glance to nearby windows, the area in general, and back to the very tall woman in front of him. This was not a place that contained a lot of people actively moving about. He ignored the polite offer of a physical greeting, instead opting for an immediate change of subject.

"You two ladies are out here alone, aren't you?" he mused, a gravel voice piping out the syllables. A smile upturned one corner of his mouth which he quickly forced away. "I've been hearing some things about you. Caused a lot of trouble over at Bob's last night, didn't you? Complaints were made. And I had a nice, quiet town here. Now, a good Constable ought do something about that. Isn't that right, Lady Kathryn Pyke of Arcanaple?" The name and title were spoken with the slightest hint of sarcasm, but not so much as to be deniable if pressed about it. "There's a little park around the corner there. How about we all go and talk about it." Cavendish glanced at the guards which flanked him at a pace or two, adding, "What do you think, boys?" They seemed to silently agree.

Across the whole of the Avonshire Township, a few lonely, scattered drops of precipitation began to fall earthward.

“Works for me!” She hush replied to Kathryn as the woman decided to do as Kosara would have very much done and went straight to the man and chat him up! Good idea, it was always best to do things directly as far as Kosara was concerned. Why worry about it when you could do something after all. Or was that about broken furniture… The thought was as fleeting from her mind as it had arrived. Why worry about it after all. Instead the white tiefling merrily skipped after the tall warrior lady in their approach of Grumpy McGrumpypants. She was in the process of figuring better villain name for Cravingfish, but it was slow going.

“Hello! We met yesterday, I’m Kosara!” She greeted from beside the warrior woman as she had greeted the constable and his grumpy men. She noted that Kathryn had a very silly grin on. She hadn’t seen her with such a grin so far. It made her wonder why that was. It was a silly grin and Kathryn seemed to be really serious most of the time. Though why would she show it now? She’d have to ask later.” Why of course not! We are together! Wait… is this one of those meaning miscommunications?” She blinked after having spoken, looking at the man.” Well even then we aren’t alone! You are here!”

“Hey, I agree it’s a nice town! Not that quiet though, did you visit the market yesterday? It was very very noisy place with lots of singing and dancing… and music! Also food! That and the talent show was marvelous, are you going to participate later, Mr?” Kosara asked innocently and seemingly completely and utterly oblivious to the sarcasm that he had going on. She too had her own brand of smile on, the innocent and happy one, the one that showed no worry for the world.” Hey if you are speaking of that one guy he started it! He was accosting my friend! Back home we used to bury such people to the neck in the sand for a day to learn their lesson! I was merciful I just kicked him ONCE and at a place that doesn’t do long term harm too!”

“Also, no! We’ve got task to do! I gotta ask Madam Marci about work! We talked yesterday and I did tell her that I will come today, I’m a dancer.! I ain’t gonna be a liar and not show up!” The tiefling flat out rejected the not so subtle demand.” Besides, why do we need to talk in the park? We can talk here, can we not?” She asked as she felt a solitary drop of water and looked up. Was it going to rain?” Hey I think there be raindrops, we better get inside before we all get very very wet, Mr... ahmm... Cloverwish...?” She stated and looked at their destination behind the trio of men that were doing their best wall impression. She also tried to recall his name and this was the closest she could remember. So she made sure to ask with questioning intonation.

How Victoria had managed to maintain possession of her very jaunty, bardy hat through the grand chase was fully beyond her. But there it was, extremely not sitting rumpled in some alleyway like a sack of discarded socks. She counted her blessings and focused on the situation most recent.

It was an interesting series of moments getting to this, with Marita sprinting out without so much as a word. Lucky for Victoria that she wasn't quite so slow on the uptake that hour, else she might have indignantly remained where she was, sitting quietly in that same chair and contemplating what the puzzle pieces uncovered thusfar meant. Lycanthropy was still on the table. Victoria's own wish for this not to be the case did cloud things for her, but the possibility did not leave her active thoughts. Logically, it fit.

The chase was actually rather fun. Not taking the lead and merely showing support to the overall rundown gave her a perspective that was a little more objective, and by extension, a different point of view. It was almost enough to convince her that this was wholly unrelated. Almost. When Marita caught up to the boy, what remained of her denial broke upon the metaphorical rocks of reality. The Bard took a moment to read the room, as it was, and carefully had her Morty lean against a wall and be very still. Morty was good at that. She then quickly stepped up to defend the allegations directed at Marita by some of the locals.

"What did she do to him?" spoke Victoria, addressing not the person who actually asked the question but the crowd in general. Any good arbiter would tell you that you don't try to convince the person making an accusation. They're already convinced. You present your case to third parties who are observing. That was their best chance to keep a handful of scared people from turning into a ton of angry ones. Quite frankly, Victoria was not the wholesale slaughter type. "You jest. You must jest. Look at this woman! She is a child of Law, bearing the trappings of Order openly. And you know - you know - something has infected this community long before we arrived. You should thank her for dismissing the false comfort of willing blindness."

It might have been a good time to quiet the histrionics some, seeing as she was coming close to launching an accusation against a group of scared townsfolk who were already of mixed opinion. So now she went with a more personal, somewhat emotional approach. "I'm sorry, we have witnessed long days and uncertain nights, but cruelty such as this inflicted upon a child is more than I am willing to bear witness." Victoria turned her head and raised a hand to her eyes, a reasonable gesture for a woman trying to hold back an expression of emotion. In truth, the seemingly successful attempt to stifle a sob or two was in fact an unsuccessful attempt to produce one. She made the best of the situation; that being she did not compromise her efforts thusfar.

So the proverbial cat was out of the bag, thanks to Marita being painfully correct in her assumption, to Victoria's reckoning. But their cover story still held. Her voice reached out again in its pleasing, even, dulcet tones tinged with openness, selected to elicit a more reassuring, civil feeling in those around the two of them. "Sheriff Arbalest sent us here on a bounty task for Goblins." Which reminded her, did she ever claim the silver on those ears? Hmm. Something to give more thought toward later. For now, the purple clad, musical Necromancer put her game face back on, stating, "It is our adamant opinion that no good can come of, and no profit ever worth, the corruption of children."

To her credit, the words were moving enough to redirect the fear and anger of those crowded around. A few even wept. Most took a more neutral stance, believing that they had nothing to do with a child suddenly altering its face in front of them at midday. Still others weren't listening and wished only to leave the area. Victoria called it a win, with the understanding that the child's shifting of shape in public just changed the social dynamic into something more dangerous for everybody.

The constable's change of face concerned Kathryn. Things were already going down hill, but she figured they were still passable. She leaned into her ignorant tones as much as she could, see if she could use it to any amount of her advantage. Kathryn opened her mouth to protest the events of the public house! Maybe even plead ignorance. Kosara confessed to it all before she could speak up. Not only confessed, but explained she felt justified in doing so and a lot more. Sure, maybe the bastard deserved it. But this was not the time to talk about that. Kathryn sighed, they would be dealing with the consequences of all of this for the rest of their stay. But even after all of this, Kathryn was still optimistic that she could salvage this. Until Cavendish mocked her heritage.

Kathryn's smile instantly became strained. A lot more forced. It was hard to tell if Kathryn was feeling enraged or saddened as this man so casually, so passively dismissed what little she still had of her home. She held her smile though after taking a moment. What did she care what this bastard thought of where she came from? He has his own little world where he can keep what power he thinks he has. He likely has never been, and never will be to her home. He doesn't understand the value in those memories, those forested mountains covering the horizons, and the people who helped preserve what little she did have to her name. Kathryn gave a chuckle at the constable. "Maybe you should. Breaking up bar kerfuffles the next day is a very important duty for the law." Kathryn spoke in a comparable tone. "Gotta show those hangovers who's in charge around here." Kathryn listened to Cavendish as he spoke about the park. As he looked around the streets for what Kathryn assumed were witnesses.

This worried Kathryn. The man was looking for trouble. He wanted justification to take action, and if action broke out it would end in one of three ways she saw. She and Kosara surrendered, being imprisoned by a man who seemed extremely self serving, and what Kathryn assumed likely corrupt. They break into a fight, and they lose. Kathryn understood that losing meant at best, they would be imprisoned by the same man, with likely a bruised ego. And at worst, death. Then the last outcome. Kathryn and Kosara win. They win at beating the law into submission while in the middle of town. There was no way that would pan over well. Even if they did so without killing any of the trio they would be in a situation impossible to back out of. This would be a loss no matter what happened.

To Kathryn's honest surprise, Kosara offered an out. "Like Kosara said, we're still a bit busy. Though the work is easy, we are getting paid to do some... Followup work." Kathryn tried her best to sound like all the other mercenaries she talked to trying to get into a brothel while working. Work they called it. Yeah, sure David. "If ya got somethin' to say, say it here and please be fast with it. I'd rather not get rained on. Otherwise, we'll be seeing you around law man." Kosara wrapping things off with Cloverwish wouldn't help things, but maybe they could still avoid a fight. Kathryn began working her way inside. She hoped the man wouldn't be foolish enough to fight on the streets here. And she hoped Marita and Victoria were doing better. It wouldn't be worse than trying to avoid getting into a fight with the local constable.

“Pardon me, sir. A moment of your time?”

“Sorry mate, ain’t got anything,”

“No I wasn’t go-oh, never mind.”

“Madam, sorry to bother you. Could I just ask…no? Oh okay, too busy. Very well.”

“Please may I jus-ah well, excuse me then!”

Around, and around, the blue dragonborn went through the streets and markets trying to ask for some help. Blackberry had thought at least one person would’ve been able to help him out. But frustratingly no such luck, even those kind enough to stop and listen hadn’t been much help.

He found a bit of wall to lean against in an attempt to take a bit of weight off his feet for a moment, and cast his eyes to the clouds above for a sign he was on the right track. After searching the blanket of clouds that hid the sun he pondered that maybe the overcast weather was in fact the sign he wasn’t on the right track…

“Best not to entertain such thoughts.” He told himself with a deep breath to pull himself back off the wall.

Pushing back into the roving crowd of harried parents, tourists, and locals, Blackberry hunted the crowd for a friendly looking face. Being roughly a head taller than most of the humans in Avonshire this wasn’t too difficult itself, but what was difficult was his original problem of getting anyone to even speak to him; tourists had no idea what he was on about, and locals wanted nothing to do with him thinking he was just another tourist.

Suddenly, there was a commotion somewhere behind him and his gaze followed the rest of the crowd around him that had come to a rumbling halt, to stare at what was happening in the centre of a growing hole in the mass of people. Standing only one person behind the commotion he had the perfect view to see a human woman decked in stunning chain armour with an iron grip on a child's arm who, from the sounds of it, had been caught spying. Possibly spying on the armoured woman?

The poor boy looked scared enough to die on the spot, and Blackberry tried to take a step forward to intervene. But then the boy changed; his eyes reddened, his teeth appeared to grow, and even his limbs appeared to change shape as well.

“By the gods!” His breath caught in his throat.

The crowd around him gasped in horror, and reeled back in fear and revulsion when the boy slipped out of the armoured womans grip and sprang across the ground, through the parting crowd. The boy was far too low for Blackberry to see where he went.

"What did you do to him?" A fearful cry.

The crowd shifted again to cast a furious gaze at the Armoured Woman, and Blackberry opened his mouth in an attempt to at least calm the people around him, but he needn’t have bothered as a woman he assumed to be an elf in a stunningly purple outfit arrived to defend the Armoured Woman (her companion?) and even quell the rising tension in the crowd with her words. From the sounds of it, she and the Armoured woman were working to help Avonshire and the offhand accusation from one of the townsfolk that they had done something had understandably been a bit much for her. Backberry wanted to step forward then, seeing the Elven woman cover her face to hold back a the tears.

"...Sherif Arbalest.."

Had his attention not already been hooked by the woman, her mentioning Sheriff Arbalest would have made Blackberry snap his gaze to her. Could it be? Could she know Sheriff Gregory Arbalest? Regardless, with the immediate worry of the crowd turning ugly now resolved he decided now was as good a time as any to get some answers.

He waited a few moments for the crowd to calm down a bit more before he stepped out and towards the pair. He kept his strides slow and steady to not upset his robes even as the wind around picked up for a moment. Blackberry knew his appearance could be a bit much for some so tried his best to look as non-threatening as possible; calm smile, warm eyes, low and gentle tone of voice, the works.

“Pardon me. May I trouble you for a moment? I do apologise, as I can see that you have more pressing matters but I really must ask.”

Blackberry tried to keep his smile calm and friendly but he was aware of the twinge of excitement slipping into his voice.

“You mentioned a ‘Sheriff Arbalest’. Would that perhaps be Sheriff Gregory Arbalest?; I’ve been asking around the town for him but, unfortunately, without any luck thus far.”

At first Marita's reaction to the boy screaming was of annoyance. What did he think they were going to do to him, especially in a public area like this? She was going to admonish him to calm down and they weren't going to hurt him, but the screaming didn't stop. Not only that, right before her very eyes, he started to warp and disfigure. As she felt the arm in her hand shift beneath it, her expression changed from irritation to puzzlement to concern. Although she had just a while ago hypothesized that this town was suffering from a cabal of hidden lycanthropes, logically coming to that conclusion based on a handful of facts and oddities was much different to seeing it happen with your own eyes. However, she noted that the changes she saw were rather un-lupine in nature.

So perplexed by and invested in the changes that were going on with the boy, Marita almost didn't notice the stares of townsfolk around her and the wild accusation that she'd done something to him. She almost opened her mouth to talk back to him, but after their captive fled, Victoria decided to take public relations into her own hands and seemed to placate everyone enough to mostly go back to their own business. It was probably for the best this way, in the back of her head, Marita had been weighing how likely it would be that she would have to use her Voice of Law to settle the matter peaceably.

With that taken care of, she turned her attention down to the coat at her feet. She picked it up and looked over it. Almost worn to the point of usability and obviously meant for someone taller and larger than the waif who had been wearing it. It also had the same kind of hair Victoria had found in the Woodworking shop, no surprise there and on the inside of the collar: G. Porter, the anme of another missing person, this one the orphan boy.

Before she could report her findings back to the bard and retreat to a less open environment, they were approached by a dragonborn of all things asking about Gregory Arbalest. Her first instinct was to guard him with suspicion; however, somebody like him was obviously an outsider to this town and far less likely to be compromised than some random human stranger. And knowing her luck, he was probably one of the fake letter receivers and had gotten lost. Well at the least it probably wouldn't hurt to answer his first question.

"Sheriff Gregory doesn't actually live here. He's in Darenby, a hamlet about a day away from here. His cousin is the one who lives here in Avonshire."

Weather: The sky is darkening. Once merely overcast, the clouds are beginning to make good on their threat of rain. The temperature hovers somewhere around 50^oF (10^o C), meaning that the incoming precipitation has actually brought with it some slightly warmer air. But speaking of that precipitation; it is asserting itself a little bit more. Those first few drops turned into a scattered handful, and it feels very much like the bottom is going to drop out at any moment. A brief crackle of electricity far above was followed by a staccato of crisp thunder, giving what might have been the last warning to the people of Avonshire to seek shelter.

Time: Fast approaching noon, though it might be difficult to tell without supporting details as the sun is not exactly showing itself. The Township is in the throes of a potentially messy midday.

Ambience: The word of what had transpired on the western thoroughfare has not circulated all the way around town yet, but people are running and rumors aplenty are diffusing from Ground Zero, ever moving outward. It is a very short matter of time before news of the horror fills the whole of the walls.

The overall celebration, even in the places which did not have a front row seat to the sudden transformation of a street urchin into something not quite human, had began to take a premature hiatus. The oncoming weather was a huge part of it, yes, but the overall thought that there were still a few days left in Harvestide. Plus, it have people the excuse to bring the party indoors where coin could be spent by a captive audience.

While word of the happenings had already reached the Farmers' Market, it didn't seem to stop anyone there from going about their business. The more than occasional farming implement that might double as a defense tool in a pinch found their way into the hands of laborers, maybe even a hunting bow or two, and the whole of them were a hair more vigilant. However, much as the old saying goes, The Show Must Go On. The ones smoking and curing pigs weren't dissuaded by the possibility eventual death and/or dismemberment. The barbecue would continue, barring extreme environmental upheaval. More pavilion style tents went up, people stayed close to their spots.

Over in the Traders' Market, things were wrapping up. Most of the imports has shown and been offloaded, empty boats and carts filled and moved out, and fewer folk might be seen here. When word of the event across town reached them, what few remained decided to become even fewer. Some of the less daunted kept around this place, not wishing to lose out off of purely a rumor.

Outside of the walls, the travellers' tiny, makeshift villages grew a little smaller. Vehicles and animals began to exit the area, though not in a mass exodus. May others are holding fast and getting ready to receive weather. And the unknown.


Fat drops of rain plummeted earthward. Not in any great amounts at this time, but individual deliveries of moisture smacked upon the stones of the main thoroughfare and broadened to the size of flat silver coins, dotting the otherwise dry way. A commotion is upon the immediate area, with voices in many directions declaring variations of what they had just witnessed. This will undoubtedly add to the already swirling rumormill, provided things work out as anything which might be considered positively.

Most of the people on the street have understandably found other things to do, and/or suddenly remembered a pressing engagement elsewhere. The one man who spoke in such an accusatory manner before stood there dumbly for a moment, a little confused as to why he was so quickly dismissed by the words of support earlier before remembering the situation and exiting with haste, while the woman who mentioned that she knew who the unfortunate boy was could be seen moving in the general direction that she saw him scramble off. Foot traffic became scarce. Animals and carts picked up the pace. Faces could be seen from windows, peering about as if to spy upon any aftershocks of drama.

Notably at this time, the only ones who aren't moving in a direction or another at the side of this once busy street are a single Human, Dragonborn, Half-Elf, and an animated, preserved hog, each.


"You're not in your home, Tiefling. You're in mine. You are not the law. I am. The more you mercenary types understand this, the fewer of you I have to humiliate." This was spoken with a sharp take of breath, almost at a hiss. Cavendish composed himself quickly and returned to his faux smile. Obviously ignoring most of what Kosara had to say, Cavendish stuck to one point that she had made. "Work, huh? Yeah, I hear Marcie pays her girls well." It was not in a supportive nor informative tone that he made this declaration.

Movement by the Kathryn and Kosara toward the Honey Barn was blocked by the other guards for about a second before the Constable gestured to his men to let them pass. "No, if they don't want to talk, that's fine. Let's go find the pretty one and the one that moonlights as a bar wench. See how they like conversation. Bye, now. You will be seeing me around."

The interior of The Honey Barn looked like a picture of many taverns across the realms, except for the main central stage. And the different levels with more secluded sections. And the curtains which could be pulled across many different locations for privacy. And the exceptionally loud colors. Okay, so this doesn't look like the picture of many taverns, except for the presence of a bar and places to sit. There isn't a whole lot of time for a proper look around, as the young woman who let you in calls for the Lady of the House immediately. "Oh yes, dearie, let them in; let them in now." There is a hint of urgency to her voice, even if it was hidden under a cultured accent and air of projected nonchalance.

Madame Marcie was a Halfling, dressed in attire which looked as if designed to give the expected appearance of a woman of urban sophistication. It was almost a costume. Her raven hair was done up for height - and speaking of height, she stood just as tall as she did before, which put her taller than most Halflings one might have the occasion to meet. Her footsteps rang out hollow upon the cobblestone flooring as she approached. "I shall be happy to give the two of you a grand tour here in a little bit, but for now, please lay low. The Constable just left and he does so like to linger..." A thought seemed to cross her mind briefly before she spoke again, "Whyever are the two of you here so early? We don't open for a long while, yet. Hours. I'm afraid I don't have a thing for you to do, nor a client to entertain at all."

The place seemed to be in a very lull state. Some women were cleaning up, others restocking or repairing things. More were working on choreographed dance steps, simple though they might be. "I was considering getting some tea, or luncheon soon. Maybe you can join us and talk about your travels? Try some of that fine wine you rescued for us, or sip upon the boiled nectar of some tea from the Central Sea's coast? Oh but wait, what ARE you doing here so early?"

While everyone else made it a point to exit this situation as quickly as possible upon seeing the child begin to shift in form to something potentially monstrous, this sole, blue Dragonborn who looked like he had seen better days (or worse days, depending upon how one looked at it) intentionally stepped closer. The next couple of seconds provided the reason given, that being that Victoria had dropped the name of Sheriff Arbalest. Whether this was an excuse to get close or a clear case of coincidence was beyond the reckoning of the Bard. Though she did have the presence of mind to throw the guy a bone.

"He lives in Darenby, yes. At the Fort. Or at least I think he does. The gods know that's where he pulled me out of a cell." Victoria smiled broadly, continuing, "A trifle of a misunderstanding, and a masterful opportunity for preemptive negotiations." It was a gloss-over explanation. Not a lie, but presented in such a way that it might be taken as color or creativity. And there was just a hair of both involved. "I can say that he wasn't there when we left. One of his subordinates informed us that he was called away and gave us final instructions."

Victoria noted the sudden difference in people around them once more. Accustomed to being the center of attention was one thing when you were on stage or attempting to tune the emotional responses of others, but this set of circumstances, especially after the night previous, was bringing her mind back to the teaching of her Bardic College. For students of the Grey Requiem, safety and subtlety were oft hailed as virtues when applied appropriately, hence the required training in the basics of stealth and survival. Acquiring material to work with or pursuing knowledge in places of eternal rest came with a cartload of misunderstanding sometimes, not unlike the situation with herself and the Sheriff she mentioned before.

Wordlessly, Victoria extended a tendril of thought to her companion, Morty. The gaunt, fully wrapped pig moved jerkily toward her and took up its usual position, tusks at the ready for goring or dragging along a corpse, depending upon need at the moment. Then she turned to Marita, stating, "I am unexpectedly starting to feel a little exposed here. Perhaps we should get 'professional' or get scarce. I am fine with either at this moment." Victoria's mouth turned to a smile, but her eyes subtly scanned an arc in front of her. One hand rested gently on the hilt of the slim sword at her side.

Kathryn's hand edged closer to the hilt of her sword when one of the guards cut her off. A confrontation was looking more and more likely by the moment. She wondered if Kosara and herself could win this fight? Though winning would create problems, those problems seemed much more manageable then what would happen if they'd lost. Something shady was going on, and once there was no one to witness whatever happened to them, she worried things would get worse. For a moment she wondered if herself and Kosara would be the newest people on that list of missing people. Then Cavendish ordered the guards to stand down. Kathryn sighed in relief, her posture visibly relaxing. The words that followed next caused her to tense. They'd be going after the rest of the party. She felt that maybe Victoria and Marita were better prepared to talk themselves out of a situation, and she knew they could hold her own in combat rather well. But like Their own situation, they were at half strength. If conflict did break out, there was no good ending. The constable seemed to be looking for an excuse to take action. Or to get away with it. "See you around Constable. We'll let them know you're coming." That was a bluff, but if she could cause some hesitation on his part, buy some time for Victoria and Marita, maybe persuade him that now wasn't the time to go after them? It was something. There was no threat to the comment, just informative. But Kathryn had no arcane abilities. The closest to magic she possessed was her ability to handle a sword. She doubted she could use that to warn the rest of the party.

Inside was a much more calming sight. The place was nicer then a lot of the places that Ser Lucas left Kathryn in growing up. Much more colorful, and seemed like it had a lot larger of a budget to work with. Though comparing places to her home wasn't an easy thing to do. Her home nation wasn't known for being the richest. Though it was a comfortable life, even luxury life styles were not as extravagant compared to many larger nations. Even Avonshire gave the appearance of higher trade. Even if not as much money was in that trade, the presence of trade even in material showed. Kathryn found herself looking in awe inside the Honey Barn. When Madame Marcie arrived and began speaking, Kathryn's attention snapped to her. She seemed worried, and a bit confused. "Sorry uh... We were asking around and a lot of places like this where I am from are open a lot sooner. We were also hoping to make some progress on our own work. See who knew what about those who have gone missing, those who have returned. We think it's relevant to out job with these goblin attacks. But..." She looked at the door, thinking about Constable Cavendish. The fact that his own comment made about talking to the rest of the party may have also been a ruse to either get them worries or discourage them from continuing. As well, him having a habit of waiting around? What if he was still preparing for a conflict, and was either waiting for Kathryn and Kosara to leave and lead him and his guard to the rest of the party, or would just outright attack once they were somewhere no one would spot them? "What was... What was Cavendish doing here? It didn't seem like usual business?" And they're closed. She wondered how much more was going on outside of the work that they were hired to do. Or if it was all related somehow. So many strange things were happening, and she wasn't sure what to make of any of it.

The comment about it being near lunch got Kathryn's attention, the morning had gone by fast, and she wasn't ready for it. She slid the gauntlet back on her hand covering the silver ring. If the Constable was waiting outside Kathryn didn't want to find herself surprised by his presence again. The advantage they did have? He had only two guards with him at the moment. They couldn't cover that many routes effectively. If they were careful, they could avoid him all together. "Kosara, we may need to leave. I think the situation has changed." The best way to get out? Kathryn wasn't sure. The front was where they saw Cavendish last, but if he suspected that herself and Kosara would try to sneak away would he be watching out back in anticipation? "Thank you Madame Marcie for the offers. I'm sure the wine would have been great, but I don't think we have time to sit and chat. I'm so sorry for how rude that must seem." As she debated which way to leave Kathryn paused before turning to Madame Marcie again. "I don't suppose by some chance to have a secrete exit to his fine establishment?" Kathryn said as a joke. But deep down she hoped it was true. They would also need to wrap up the quest fast, tensions were growing between the party and the towns people, and between the party and the law.

“That’s great! A good pay is always a good thing! Allows us dancers to prepare better outfits and adornments to use in our next performances!” Kosara replied to the grumpy constable with a great smile on her face, despite his mean tone of voice! When he moved to leave, she waved her hands at him innocently.” Bye, bye, Mr Cloverwish!” She wished him as they moved apart and it wasn’t lost on the teifling that Kathryn had used the name she did. Though if it was because of she was mocking him or if she just forgot and went with the flow, it was a mystery that nobody was ever going to solve… unless she asked the warrior woman and she was not going to.

“ Madam Marci, hello again!” Kosara greeted the woman cheerfully when they were inside the Honey Barn and the proprietor had arrived.” You mean the mean grumpy Mr Cloverfish?” She asked innocently, batting her eyes at the woman.” Yes, he did mention he was going to be seeing us around. It is a very bad plan on his part seeing as it’s likely going to rain before long and he will get all soaked down to the bones like a dog on the streets.” She nodded.

“Well, I said I will come to see if we can arrange for a job for me and here I am! In my understanding organizing agreements takes time, though I never figured out why. Though I did want to ask when you’d possibly want me to be here and if you wish to see me performing in advance.” She chirped happily as she moved a bit left and right, looking at the fabled Honey Barn from the inside. It was a very very different place from what she was used to. Her sisters were going to be very jealous they didn’t see this place or got to perform here( if she did get the chance to anyways). Though maybe she should send word back home and see if any of them wanted to come over after the troubles here were over. She left Kathryn speak in the meantime. Until the warrior woman brought up leaving early that is.

“But, but… we just got here! I haven’t even discussed performing with Madam Marci!” She objected and pouted. Kosara was NOT a happy little tielfing right now! Nothing was turning out right today! She stuck her tongue to Kathryn and looked the other side.” Hmmp!” At least for a moment, before she looked at the door, debating waltzing right out to see if Mr Cravingfish was willing to talk instead. A moment to think and think and her shoulder slummed.” He said he wanted to talk with V and Marita… fine...” She mumbled in a very disgruntled manner, clearly not liking how this was happening.” Madam Marci, would it be possible to then set the matter of performing here for after we figure out what this issue with Mr Cravenfish and the goblins is all about? Our friends are in danger it seems and we should go to them… When everything is over, we can properly talk an arrangement out?” She apologized and pouted.” Why he keeps calling us mercenaries anyways? We aren’t mercenaries! I’m a dancer!”

His smile dropped.

"Oh. Well then... That's rather unfortunate."

BlackBerry clicked his tongue in thought and tried to distract himself from his immense feeling of foolishness. As the other two described it he might have just missed the Sheriff, possibly by a few days…and by going in completely the wrong direction.

"Last person I had spoken to assured me he was in Avonshire." Muttering to himself more than anything. "Oh well. Can't be helped I suppose."

His frown only deepened as the heavens began to open in a clear indication that he had, in fact, been on the wrong path. He threw a silent curse skywards and to whichever of the gods were no doubt having a good laugh at his expense.

"From the sounds of things you work with Sheriff Arbalest? The pair of you?" He stared down at the little pig when it had trundled up to the violet clad woman. "...oh, I apologise. The three of you?" He chuckled, a gentle smile already put back into place.

It was rather strange for the little pig to be wrapped up, but then again some of the other adventures he'd seen on his travels weren't any less strange at times. He supposed describing it as the pair working for the Sheriff was a bit generous, as the way the Violet clad one explained it sounded more like she owed the Sheriff a favour. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from tilting his head a little in some surprise when she had explained. That aside, if it were true that the Sheriff had sent some of his own from Darenby then maybe things are more dire around Avonshire than BlackBerry had first thought; he'd only been in Avonshire for roughly two days, but the innkeeper had warned him to be careful with people going missing lately. Although,

"You wouldn't perhaps know when the Sheriff might return, do you? It's rather important."

It was a (very) long shot he knew that but hoped this did not show on his face. But even if they said no he could either make his own way to Darenby and await Sheriff Arbalests return, however long that might take; or possibly even try to find his cousin instead, here in Avonshire. Had he heard something about Sheriff Albelast having a cousin? BlackBerry decided to mull over that tidbit of information later.

Right now however, Blackberry needed to focus.; his first priority was getting in contact with Sheriff Arbalest which the two women before him seemed to be his best so far. On a related note, it looked like they were in the middle of an important mission so he may as well lend a hand as best he could…they were after that young boy for some reason.

"Again I apologise for taking up your time. However, I do believe that I might be able to help you if you so need." Pulling himself under some cover out of the rain, BlackBerry began to scan over the heads of the crowd.

"I was just behind the man who laid those accusations against you when the child…" he rolled his hand trying to find the word, still snapping his eyes back and forth across the moving crowd. "changed just now, for lack of a better word. And I'm certain I heard someone say that they knew him. Unfortunately, I was somewhat distracted at the time but she had a pushcart with her, filled with vegetables or possibly fruit. With a bit of luck, she might know something."

He narrowed his eyes trying to see through the gaps in the crowd of people ducking their heads or pulling up hoods against the fat raindrops splashing all about them. There! Through a break in the crowd he caught sight of her as she paused for a moment to pull her own hood.

"Ah ha!" Jabbing out a finger, he cried. "Over there! I've spotted her by the baker's stall."

He stepped forward again with the intention to follow after the stocky woman if the other two chose to do so.

"Technically he is in Avonshire, as in the greater region of Avonshire, but that's different that the township itself. I can see how that kind of confusion might occur," Marita replied to the Dragonborn. She didn't know why she was trying to create an explanation for why he was pointed in the wrong direction, after all, there were lots of reasons that could potentially be the root cause and none of them mattered to her in actuality. The sudden sensation of cold water hitting her scalp reminded her of that.

The cleric briefly scowled in surprise, but otherwise remained composed as she listened out both Victoria and the Dragonborn's cases. Well, her face did twist in displeasure when he referred to Victoria's meat golem as if it was a sapient member of the group. Even if he didn't recognize it as the mindless facsimile of a pig that he was, a real living porcine wouldn't need to be addressed as if it were a person. But that was a minor annoyance all things considered.

"Unfortunately, we don't know the sheriff's whereabouts and when he may return. For all we know he might already be back. After all, we haven't been in Darenby in over a day. Furthermore, would be more accurate to say that my colleague and I are working for the Sheriff at the moment rather than having any sort of prolonged experience working alongside him. For what reason are you asking?" The question was more of a formality than anything. This obviously foreigner likely only had one reason to have business with a small-time local lawman like Arbalest, he had received a likely fake copy letter like the others had and was interested in the job. But did he know that he had already missed the day? Judging by the way he conducted himself, probably not.

As for his offer of help... Marita looked at the Dragonborn and then looked back at Victoria, maintaining eye contact for just a fraction of a second before returning her attention to the scaled figure before here. She wanted to give him a flat out rejection, their situation was rather delicate already, and the added volatility of the help of one who didn't know better was not a factor she did not wish to willingly invite into her home. However, this place was also not safe, doubly so for foreigners and she knew the best way to keep him safe was to have him in eyesight.

"I'm not sure exactly how much you'd be able to assist us, but if you wish, you can accompany us for the time being." At this moment, Marita remembered the time and looked over to address Victoria. "Actually, didn't we agree to reconvene at noon? There's some leads I'd like to follow right now that would still get us out of this weather, but we should probably head ba-" out of the corner of her eye she saw their new blue friend start marching off on his own and stopped herself mid-sentence.

"Holy light break through these dark clouds and give me guidance," she said under her breath, pinching the bridge of her nose as she followed. It looked like they were going to be a bit late getting back to the Hayloft. Then again, knowing Kosara and Kathryn, they probably had plenty of time before they'd leave anyone waiting.

Weather: There is nary a trace of the the sun to be seen, though visibility is still soundly supported by the ambient light of midday. A sharp roll of thunder ripples across the sky. While the atmosphere looks very much like it will succumb to downpour conditions, at present there are but the regular stabs of heavy raindrops striking earthward. The once slower drumming of water upon stone, water upon roof, and water upon canvas awning has increased in tempo. Rain is here, and it will only become more formidible.

Time: Midday is sounded across town. This is more of a formality at this point, but the presently unseen sun is indeed at its zenith.

Ambience: Rumor has an astounding way of gnawing into the subconscious of the population, even rumors of something horrible. It is another thing altogether when the reality of it is laid bare for some to witness, and is proven worse than rumor. What was once covered in a thin veneer of denial is cloaked now only in equally fragile, bitter silence. It is this silence which followed the spreading wave news of a lost child found, turning into a creature of unknown origin, and running off to places unknown. The child is still at large.

Overt celebrations are dead. The music out in the open, a commonplace thing during festivals, has grown quiet. This could very well have something to do with the rain, but there is a good possibility that there are other factors involved, too. People are now mostly indoors and/or in groups, as if instinctual in nature.

The Farmers' Market has also gotten quieter. It is quite possible that it is because of the weather more than anything else as shelter there is a touch more primitive than other places in town, although the number of pavilion tents and townsfolk who, in their own rustic fashion, simply refuse to be run off from their own interests. Some are armed, some are not, and those stubborn damned hog smokers will not abandon their herbs, spices, various woods, nor their formerly living slabs of yummy meatstuffs.

The Traders' Market found itself quieter recently. As most of the products were on and offloaded in the morning, people still there were handling finances and shutting down. There are few who would stay in a place where little financial incentive put them there. Most doors are closed and windows shuttered; most ware facilities are locked up. A couple of locations stand ready to receive late coming goods and even these people are being more cautious than usual. Still, those who do remain do so mainly out of stubbornness.

Outside of the walls, the wagons are circled both literally and metaphorically. Few merchants keep their stalls open and meals are mostly eaten cold this hour. Rain and news have dwindled their numbers to about half of their original festival turnout.



The rain quickens, as rain often does. This street, one of the main streets of the usually bustling township, is emptying like a discarded cuspidor. This is Ground Zero of the bombshell that snapped Avonshire out of its semi-comfortable stupor of plausible deniability and almost no one is taking it well. At least they have ceased laying blame at the newcomers, which is a start. Not an amazing start, but the party has some social breathing room for now.

The stocky woman of middle years, pushing a smallish cart laden with vegetables who mentioned that she recognized the boy was also in her own retreat, though a hair slower than many of the less encumbered and more active persons about town. Getting up to her was a relatively easy feat as the streets were somewhat clearer now and one could easily see the people dodging around her slower pushcart.

Upon catching up with the woman, she stops readily though glances in the direction that he was traveling before piping up, "Please, I dare not linger and I still have things to deliver. What do you want from me?"



Madame Marcie is ever the gracious and slightly histrionic hostess, though this occasion has her mixing varying amounts of concern in her voice. "Why, at a certainty I can work you into our ...entertainment lineup... yes, for the evening. Anyone new and exotic is well received by our regulars, and ... and," She stopped, giving a mostly undecipherable expression, "You ought not poke fun at the Constable, Miss. Not to his face and not where some certain ears can hear you. He's become quite testy as of late."

Addressing Kathryn, the Madame remarks, "Usual business? Oh, you saw outside... Understand that money changes hands for a lot of different reasons. Now, one of those reasons, hypothetically, is to keep doing business past hours, undisturbed by people who could cause a stir." Marcie smiled and gave a little shrug, "I prefer that me and my girls are left to our own counsel inside of these walls. You understand, I'm sure. It's the cost of doing business, I'm afraid, just like back in Argentum; just like in Khimn." The names of those places would be familiar to most who knew about the geography of the area - the former was a walled city of such proportions as to be considered its own small province and the latter being a formidable city ran by a circle of knights, home to one of the few legal Arenas in the land. It served to indicate that the lady was traveled.

"I am disappointed that you have to leave so soon, dears. But if you want to slip out the back way and avoid the Constable, I can help." She turned and began leaving hollow footfalls on the cobblestone flooring, beckoning with her hand. She began to lead them into the main floor of the establishment. It was a fine, open space that looked like a party was thrown there the night before. Women, mostly youthful, set about tidying things. Furnishings were solid and decent of craftsmanship. There was a large, central stage in the middle of the area, strategically positioned in the middle of a set of low stairs which stretched across the whole of the main room. Balconies rose above, exposing an open air second floor whose secrets were concealed by the angle one had from the ground floor. "There's a back way out through the baths, this way. Oh, but what did you mean ...Kosara, right? What did you mean about an issue with the Constable and Goblins? Is there a connection there?" She seemed genuinely confused.

Before the three of them got to the low stairs in the middle of the main room, a woman burst in through the front doors, calling for Marcie. "Madame! Madame Marcie? You won't believe this! The kid who disappeared from the orphanage came back! But he was a monster! Two of the outsiders were with him, and... Oh, sorry!" She apparently just realized that the other two "outsiders" were with her boss, and immediately fell silent.

The unfolding horror of their situation seemed (at face value) to be overshadowed by a more mundane annoyance as Victoria raised a hand to block errant drops of rain from hitting her face. Bright eyes looked toward the clouded over sky above them all with distaste. She was not opposed to rain as a whole, but would rather not stand out in the middle of it unless the situation called for this specifically. Or unless she got a weird bent to want to frolic in a refreshing summer storm. Unfortunately, this was not summer. This was the coming of the harvest moon in autumn, and while the weather had brought in slightly milder temperatures it would be stamped back down with the presence of drenched clothes. One could not take the time to dry one's garments with Prestidigitation in the middle of a downpour, either. At least her primary violin was packed away in a fine, tight case for emergencies such as this.

Of course, a proper umbrella might have done much to alleviate her concerns. Yes, a fine purple one with a blade or wand concealed within the shaft. That might be ideal for future situations, but daydream of luxuries as she might, Victoria could no more summon such a thing to her right then as she could stop the rain with a song - yet.

As the plan to remove herself from the open sky got hijacked by the Dragonborn's desire to speak with someone who claimed to recognize the boy who kicked off all of this, curiosity did flare enough to hold her tongue from the more aggressive things she might suggest that those around her participated in with themselves. The Bard wondered briefly why she was even waiting on any of this until her glance happened to fall upon Marita. She had not taken it upon herself to pack up shop and move the party indoors as of yet, and so she deferred to her colleague's instincts to see where this might lead.

Morty, per usual, just stood there.

Kosara seemed rather excited for working at the Honey Barn. Kathryn supposed she got why, but it wasn't the kind of work Kathryn was as open too. It left her feeling too exposed. She felt naked without her armor on, and doing it for show was a great way to make that feeling much worse. Kathryn would stick to manual labor tasks to help earn extra coin when needed. "She's right Kosara, we have enough problems without aggravating the constable. Take it easy, and if we get things smoothed over, try and apologize." She paused a moment herself before continuing. "I also need to work on that a bit too. I don't want to have to deal with the law on top of our already growing list of problems." Kathryn listened to as Madame Marcie explained their business deal with the constable. It didn't sound good, or legit. It sounded like something you'd offer a street gang so they wouldn't burn down your place of business. "If... that's a problem you regularly deal with, let us know. We'd love to help." She still held in mind she needed to make amends where she could with the constable. But this was getting darker and darker by the moment. First the back alley talks, and now a Protection Gig. The whole thing gave Kathryn the shakes. She tried to job her memory of the places that Madame Marcie mentioned. And though they were familiar, and she'd likely recognize them with the right reminder, she had nothing.

No secrete door to be offered, but Kathryn figured as much. But a back door through the wash room could do. There were many streets and breaking line of sight for long enough could work. "Thank you for your help. We really appreciate your assistance, and we only hope we can do the same for you someday." Kathryn turned to Kosara. "Important things have come up, we can come back when our friends are not about to be caught unawares." Kathryn said in a serious tone as she stormed her way full of concern towards the baths. Madame Marcie asked about Kosara's comment about the Goblins and the Constable. Sometimes Kathryn wished her tiefling friend had a bit more a filter. "Their not related no. Two separate issues we're dealing with at the same time is all." She hoped they weren't related. It would add yet another layer of complications to the list of growing concerns and theories Kathryn was working with. "We're doing mercenary work Kosara. That's why people keep saying we're mercenaries. The work we're doing is work mercenaries tend to do."

Then a woman barged in to get Madame Marcie's attention. She was talking about the rest of their team, one of the missing people, and... A monster? Kathryn saw the look the woman made looking at herself and Kosara and she went wide eyed. Kathryn shoved on her helm and tightened the belt. "Sorry we can't stay Madame Marcie, we look forward to catching up properly and look forward to helping out where we can but we got to go now sorry by!" Kathryn said in a single breath as she forced her way out of the door with a thud that sounded like she would have removed the door with her should had it not given way. "Come on Kosara! We gotta go. The other's need us!" She hoped she wouldn't cross the constable on her way to them. Mid day. They were so close to mid day. She hoped she could find the others before things got out of hand. On her way over and with Constable Cavendish on her mind, she decided she didn't want to risk their hideout. But she had to meet up with them somehow. "Kosara, we can't go to the hideout. We can't risk being followed. We'll go and wait outside the public house and try to catch the others before on their way through." Kathryn said at a running pace struggling to get the buckle on her helmet to stay closed. Another piece of her equipment that wasn't handling the wear and tear of time very well. It soon closed and locked into place. She hoped things wouldn't break into a fight, but she didn't want to get caught with her head exposed if one were to break out.

Kosara was not a happy girl. Not really between having to rush and abandon her task at the honey barn, the grumpy constable, the fact that Kathryn was the one making her half her tasks and all manner of other annoying niggles, the tiefling dancer was rapidly growling to a grumpiness levels to probably equal ol’ Cavendish. The fact she was hearing that the constable sounded like he was running a protection racket made her even more annoyed.” But I’m not poking fun at him? How am I making fun of him?” She asked in confusion. Why was everybody thinking she was making fun of that grumpy ol man?

“Grandpa always says that kobolds and goblins are a symptom not a cause!” She quipped, mild irritation seeping into the otherwise energetic and happy tiefling woman. She had not forgotten the goblins were way too well equipped nor that the fact that Cloverdish wasn’t too appreciative of them killing them… Nor did he seem to be doing anything about a supposed goblin band in the vicinity of his town! She was going to get to the bottom of this mystery and if he was evil, she’d expose his evil ways for the good of all! Maybe even kick him like Grandpa taught her to.” WE AREN’T! Mercenaries are grumpy serious men with severe faces and many scars, traveling in big bands and taking questionable tasks for coin! They get hired in wars and to do otherwise subjectively legal tasks! When they come to the taverns and inns, they grope us who work there and try to get away without paying! Meanwhile we are adventurers! We do good work with or without coin, we help people, explore strange new places. We seek out new life and new civilizations and boldly go where no man has gone before!” She hissed like a very angry cat. Kosara had a rather… romanticized view of adventurers. Partly because she never really grew up properly and was brought up with tall stories of epic adventures, fighting evil, rescuing damsels and other such.

Then everything suddenly halted when one of Madam Marci’s girls returned with news that somebody of the missing people returned, had altercation of some sort with Marita and V, before turning into a monster…?” Monster?” She blinked, mind doing a quick restart as she looked at Kathryn, the white tiefling doing a complete flip in focuses.” RIGHT! Let’s goooo! Monsters to find! Maybe silver does something to that monster!” She bolted after the warrior woman.” Ehh… can’t we just run around to find them? They can’t be that hard to find, neither V or Marita are hard to miss after all!”

“Also… WE AREN’T MERCENARIES!” She repeated again to Kathryn, apparently not completely forgetting her ire form earlier.” WE ARE NOT!”