Kosara just gave a semi energetic nod of confirmation with her head at Berry’s gratitude. She was still pouting after all. She stopped for a bit, looked at him and nodded again.” No worries, I help anytime.” Her voice cheerful and her expression a smile, before she looked at ratman, frowned, frowned even deeper, made a hissing face and turned back to the flames to pout even harder. Resting while pouting was her goal now. With the occasional smile cause she just couldn’t NOT smile at people.

When Kathryn tried to be kind at their villainous rodent captive, Kosara channeled her inner raging fury and gave a glare. Well it wasn’t much of a glare… maybe an inclination of one? Just a bit? Point being she was outraged in her own little way. This was most definitely a bad guy that Kathryn was talking to, there was no question there. He stabbed her well enough to make that point… Was it a few times? Maybe two? She didn’t really remember anymore, point was he hurt her and she wasn’t in forgiving mood for evil doers.” He’s a bad rat! We shouldn’t be giving him food and water! We should break his little limbs and make sure he cannot hurt anyone! He’s here for information, not to be treated like a guest! Start breaking limbs or something until he squeaks the answers!” Kosara finally couldn’t take it anymore and hissed, glaring at the rat.

“He stabbed me! A few times at least! He shouldn’t be left to simply heal up and possibly later go and hurt other people! What if he targets somebody else later who cannot defend themselves or survive a stab with a spear? Defeated enemies are STILL enemies! And MOST IMPORTANTLY” Kosara puffed up her cheeks.” ...he damaged my coat! It was a gift! Stop treating him like a friend! He’s the same as the coffin goblin maybe worse!”

Weather: Light, steady rain continues to patter across the Township. Now that the rain has lessened appreciably, the temperature shifts to something colder.

Time: Late afternoon. There are but a smattering of hours before proper nightfall, so far as anyone can tell with the sky's ever-present cloud cover.

Ambience: In contrast to the dropping temperature outside, the silversmith's place is quite warm and just a tiny bit hazy. The two lamps lit by Jacques earlier and the constant dim glow of the flameless heat source under the pot forge provide adequate light to the room as a whole, though shadowy corners remain. The doors is solidly closed and barred with a heavy beam, front and back both. There are sounds of movement coming from the outside, small at first, common to a town full of people stirring.



Jacques remained quiet as the discussion around him had less and less to do with the work he was doing and more with their plans for the immediate future, however short it might end up being. The focus for him was on the weapon he was inlaying with silver. Sure enough, as soon as the blade was done (and cooled with room temperature oil) he inverted the weapon and held it fast within the vice he used earlier. He had mentioned treating the guard and pommel to account for the differing balance the item had now. Luckily, addressing this took very little time. The metal-liquifying stylus made a short task of the less crafted materials of the slim sword, putting into it the same type of patterns he had inscribed upon the blade but in remarkably less time. Inserting the plaited silver wire and welding it into place in a semi-liquid state was again short work, thanks to his white-hot stylus. Another application of oil and he gingerly moved Victoria's sword to the counter near to her (with thick cloth as it was apparently still very hot) as she performed her ritual magic on the Constable's hammer. Though he said nothing, Jacques nodded with an amount of personal pride. This was one of his better works. (Skill Check: 24)

The weapon was transformed from a quality but mundane utility cut & thrust sword in a style favored by Human craftsfolk, more likely to be seen on a battlefield than a dueling circle, into a nigh aristocratic tool of efficient stabwork. The lingering oils on the sword reflected the twinkling light of the lamp nearby to reveal a differently hued metal swirling and dancing within the greater amount of steel present, flush to its dimensions and notably darker toward the edges as if outlined with permanently oxidized argent. The style was breathtakingly similar to designs found on contemporary Elven jewelry, though not quite with their reported complexity and thread-thin lines. He was a mortal Human after all, versed in the style to a degree but without the centuries to practice. The lines and swirls made enchanting designs that bore similarities with both sheet music and organic, leaf bearing vines. One versed in such things might be able to discern more upon closer inspection. This was a piece of art.

Before collecting any other weapons to work upon, Jacques addressed two points which Kathryn had made about their present situation. "Your knife, there," he motioned to the dagger taken from the Goblins after their first skirmish, "wasn't made by any Goblin, nor Goblin-kin. I'd say Humans made it, and not too far off from where that young lady's rapier was forged. Or by a weaponsmith from there. I don't have a practiced eye for weapons and I can tell it's decent work." Jacques mumbled something to himself following this, shaking his head as if debating something to himself. "There's a couple of people in my family that found a talent for magic. Not me - can't cast a stitch - but I learned some things and gifting holidays were ...interesting... sometimes. Like my silver stylus, there. And..." He moved to the desk/table near the back door which held the book, skull, and what looked like they might have been alchemical or ritual supplies and opened a drawer. A felt bag was retrieved, from which he poured two stones into his hand, one of which he set on the counter. "One of you hang onto that. This place is secure as any in town, but you're right, Cavendish might come back. Or he might send his cronies after me, or just burn my place down to the stones. If something happens, and you're still offering help, I'll send you a message through this."

One stone he pocketed, then returned to his pot forge. "Axe and dagger next," he said with a tired but determined voice. Jacques paused for a moment as Marita offered up her dagger, giving a glance down to her mace and then back up to meet her eyes. With a touch of hesitance, he managed to say, "Be a lot faster with your cudgel. But I'll do this if you want. Tell me if you change your mind." He set the blade down next to the others in line for silvering and got back to work.

His tangent about the mace over, Jacques returned to the question of Kathryn wanting to learn about inlaying silver. "If you're already trained as a smith, I guess that you already know how to inlay a metal. Takes a lot than the way I do it. You can see the technique I'm using with this, and it's only because of this item I have. Scrapes through forged metal like hot cheese. Heats small items malleable ready and quick, too. It's like cheating. If you want to learn how to work silver specifically and learn the craft of a jeweler, then I might be able to help. Provided we both survive the next three nights and you can devote good time to learn from me. If you find me after, I'd be open to it."

The Guard, now more obviously coming around, jerked against his constraints and let out a dull groan which he tried to stifle as best as possible. He failed miserably. Coming to full consciousness or nearabouts to it, Guard flinched and moved his head away from the sound of Kathryn's voice closeby. He audibly hissed but otherwise did not speak, neither to say anything in his defense nor answer the offer of food and water.

Meanwhile, at the front of the building, a hesitant series of small knocks sounded from the main door. Behind it, a strained voice issued, "Um, Monsieur Mallard? ...Monsieur Mallard, your, ah, sign? Sign has fallen. Do you want me to put it back? May I come in, sir?" Another knock sounded, a little bolder this time.

Kathryn was glad to get some information on the Dagger. It wasn't much, but it was a lead. Next area over, near where Victoria's weapon was likely forged. High quality at that. This worried Kathryn, and only added to her fears that someone had planted the goblins there to stir up chaos. But without knowing their motives to do so, and without being able to translate the note, she had no way to get any further conclusions. "Thank you. You've been an amazing help to us." Kathryn said softly with this new information presented to her. She then held a puzzled look seeing the stones that Mallard had pulled out. Kathryn watched in amusement as the smith explained what they were and how they could be used. She saw the logic in his plan. Though the party lacked the means to actively protect him, the ability to reply as soon as they could would increase his chances by a ton. And Kathryn had to admit, the place was as close to a fort as a personal dwelling could be shy of being purpose built from the start. "We'll keep this handy. And if we can help, we will. Our hope is to have this whole mess cleaned up as soon as possible." Kathryn took the stone putting it into a pouch on her belt. It may come in handy before long she worried. The Sheriff being gone didn't help. They had some leads, places to go. But without anyone to give those leads too, and local support from someone in power, they would be on their own for a time. Kathryn was pleased to hear that Jacques was willing to teach her how to silver equipment. it would be a good excuse to reforge her family sword. It was likely damaged beyond repair, though it could be reforged. And if it could be lined with some silver as she did so? Even better. But something caught her attention with his comment. "What... What's happening over the next three days?" Kathryn spoke with hesitation. Were things about to get worse? How much worse could it be outside of the local law being run by corrupt monsters?

Kathryn was relieved at least that Victoria was almost done. Though she didn't feel cursed, could she really tell if she was? Then again, Robert knew. She felt off, but she wondered if that was her over thinking a topic she knew frightening little on. If she was cursed, what could she do about it? Likely nothing at all shy of resisting it once the effects kicked in. Then there was the concern of the prisoner. A prisoner she had hoped would talk, but instead hissed when she offered him food and water. A prisoner that now was restrained, she didn't know what to do with. "It's still here as an offer, let me know if you're up for it." She spoke with a defeated tone. She wasn't for the idea of killing him. And if he didn't talk willingly, she had no idea how useful he would be for information. But she saw it too cruel to just ignore his basic needs. But they were in no position to keep prisoners. Or too carry him about as they settled things. Especially if he fought back. And the last thing she wanted on the table, was torture. She could stomach a lot, but causing pain to someone just to cause pain? That was a line she could not bring herself to cross. She would soon find out, it's not one she would let others cross without her thoughts put into it.

Kosara's outburst on Kathryn's treatment of the prisoner left a sour taste in her mouth. The more Kosara talked, the more Kathryn's face looked disappointed. "He is not the same as some goblin Kosara! He is a disarmed and disabled prisoner. And I will not allow for that cruel kind of treatment. We are not in any drought here, there is no shortage of food here. Yes, he is a cruel man who has done cruel and evil things. And if given the chance may do so again. That does not mean we have to cross that line. We're on the side of good Kosara. We are not going to do evil things just because we may benefit from it." Kathryn took a deep breath. Her tone was sharp, but still calm. Kathryn found herself caught off guard that this woman she has had such a pleasant afternoon with would say something so... cruel. Kathryn wasn't sure how she should react to it. What she did do was stand herself between Kosara and the guard. "I will not let you lay a finger on him. Or anything else. If he makes a run for it, or tries to harm anyone, I will kill him myself. But we are not going to stoop to such levels as torture Kosara. I'm sorry he damaged you're coat. It was a nice coat, and you didn't deserve to be stabbed either. But the moment we cross that line, it's the moment we stop being on the side of good. Even if our intentions our pure." Kathryn hoped that her idea of Storytale morality held up in this case. But she was unsure. She was unsure about a lot of things, and she worried that maybe she had less experience than she thought on how the world really worked. Kathryn was determined to not let the line be crossed easily though, and she held herself firm Ironically defending the enemy she was ready to crush moments ago.

What nearly threw her off her response, was a knocking at the door. Kathryn bent over briefly to see what was up. And saw a human with dark hair, and a chef's apron. She couldn't see his face, but she could make out the sign that had previously been on the door. She stepped away from the boards over the windows and looked around at the others. She wasn't sure any of them were up for another engagement like before, and if this was a trap they would have to choose to face it head on or get out fast. They couldn't hide in here forever. Maybe she was just on edge though? "What do we do?" Kathryn whispered trying to not draw any additional attention.

Far from ignoring the smaller pieces of drama going on within the confines of the Silversmith's shop, Victoria noted them silently and moved to complete her ritual casting. She tried not to give it any worry as she (if forced to speak honestly) had no interest in interfering with whatever mistakes might be made involving a situation she wanted no part with to begin with. Either this would serve as a learning experience or everything would work out satisfactorily. Despite the uncertainty of this coin toss of options, Victoria had little choice but to finish her spellwork.

Illumination of the mind was a difficult thing to place when viewed on the face of another. Doubly so when that face splashed with the darker colors of an already grey school of signature magic. Clarity might have also been a appropriate term for the feeling, but such a concept mainly came from an act of self-realization, whereas Victoria's was the result of plucking the strings of the Weave, listening to the music therefrom, and interpreting the melodies and harmonies that were formed from its reaction with the object in front of her. In short, she divined scraps of useful, magical information about this item and pieced them together to form a cohesive whole. She smiled.

The color faded from her face and eyes; darker aspect of her hair reverted to the gorgeous red-auburn she was graced with from birth. Her overall demeanor maintained as it had previously, only now it was a little more believable that she had information and wished to openly share it.

"The Constable had a very interesting, very storied hammer in his possession," Victoria began. Her eyes lit up as she noticed the rapier next to her on the countertop, obviously threatening to derail her train of thought. She looked very much like she was about to melt into a puddle of saccharin gratitude until the caught herself, cleared her throat, and continued. "This does not appear to have anything malevolent upon it, to give that clarification. It is lightly enchanted for accuracy and damage, which is commonplace, but - and this is rare for a hammer - this otherwise carries similar properties of a moontouched blade, radiating soft, constant lunar light when held aloft in the darkness. There is no requirement to attune to a new wielder." Victoria thought for a second or two, then finally said, "There is something else within, as well. Locked away. Circumstances have to be met to unlock it. Whatever they are, I cannot tell."

Looking to Kathryn, she finished with, "This is a fine weapon, Lady Knight. I do not believe that it was originally made to enforce the ego of a small-town Constable."

Business out of the way (and still trying her best to remain uninvolved with the drama involving ...anything else... Victoria turned her attention to what had become of her previously stylish yet utilitarian sword. Her face was absolutely beaming. Whether or not she got to use it for its intended purpose that day was immaterial. This sword was stunning. Even a little personalized. Very much worth the small payment and the short wait. Victoria was anxious to see that became of the others' selections.

For the first time since entering the building. Morty moved to be near its creator. The Bard absently reached a hand down to scratch the burlap wrapping on its snout, still looking at her updated sword. She didn't even react to the knock at the door. Short of ducking out of the back there wasn't a thing she might do about the situation and just sought to see how it might resolve with unattached curiosity.

The fire did its job to breathe some warmth back into BlackBerry now sheltering inside from the rain, for the moment.

BlackBerry pushed away his concerns over Victoria's work for the moment, there would be time later to ask. He’d seen enough travelling adventurers to accept some strangeness. It seemed that whatever she was doing to the Hammer was nearly finished. He opened his mouth about to ask, but snapped it shut noticing her intense concentration and let her continue with her work.

The next pressing issue was the guard who had apparently now come to his senses at exactly the wrong time.

“I imagine he won’t be wanting to cooperate with us just yet, and less so if you continue making threats.” BlackBerry snapped at Kosara. “You can avenge your coat later, if you really must, once we get what we need from the ruffian.”

BlackBerry couldn’t help a surprised gasp at the knocking, followed by a voice, coming from the front door.

“This isn’t the time or place to question him.” He whispered in a hushed but hurried tone. “Let us move somewhere else and return later.”

BlackBerry quickly, and quietly, tried to make his way over towards the guard, skirting around Lady Kathryn as she.

Even if they weren’t going to move anywhere else just yet, if Mr. Mallard opened the door it would be best to not have the bound and gagged guard in view, or worse try and alert whoever was outside.

They didn't have time to debate for hours over their next move. He threw a glance at the souring air between Kosara and Kathryn

Squat down by the guard on the side opposite to Kathryn, he leant towards the guard's ear.

"Now listen here." He whispered, hushed and low, hoping to drive some sense into the man. "At least one of us would like to repay you, tenfold, for that little stunt earlier. But lucky you for most of us are of a respectable sort."

He cast a nod up towards Lady Kathryn, even though the motion was lost on the blindfolded Guard.

"But don't think any of us are fools with time to spare, so behave and be quiet. And you might just survive long enough to get your arm seen to by a proper healer. Otherwise…"

He let the threat hang in the air for a moment. Hoping to leave the man to fill in the blanks; between Kosaras fury and Lady Kathryns vow at pragmatism, he figured it would be enough. Hopefully.

Next step. Get the Guard someplace else. But that hinged on Mr. Mallards next move.

Still on his haunches he twisted around to look at the door behind him, directly opposite the one they had come in from. Turning back towards Kathryn, who he had noted had managed to carry the guard in single handedly earlier, he waved his hand to silently grab her attention.

"Let's move him out of sight at least." He whispered as he stood back up and pointed at the other door.

Whether it led outside or to another room he had no idea, but it was the best bet he had.

“Yes, he is probably very much worse!” Kosara half agreed and altered Kathryn’s words back at her.” That disarmed prisoner would have been ready to skewer you the first moment he had the chance to do so, likely would do so and if the situation was reversed, he most certainly wouldn’t offer you the same courtesy you are trying to display here.” She growled glaring at the rat that was now mostly hidden behind the warrior.” What about this curse thing? Should he spread it further? What then?”

“Ohh I know perfectly well I’m on the side of good. Grandpa taught me well. Lots of ways to help people. You help by healing people… you destroying evil least it spreads it’s corruption also helps people. Breaking his legs is hardly a torture, it’s a means to ensure compliance and safety of others.” She was very adamant on her point of view on this one.” So you want to take responsibility for this…?” She narrowed her eyes at Kathryn now, expression very much displaying a very deep contemplation. Now the degree of contemplation was up to debate seeing this was Kosara we were talking about here, but who can ever really say. In the end after a REALLY long judging stare her eyes took in a look of pity and disappointment.” You are choosing to defend evil just cause it’s harmless now… Fine.” She finally stated, not even angry anymore. She just sounded very disappointed as she looked away from Kathryn.”I perfectly reserve the right to say I told you so later when this stupidity bites us in our very well shaped hinds. Possibly literally…” With that she turned around and her back to Kathryn to sulk by the fire.

Finally her attention shifted to the door where apparently somebody else had decided to engage in banging on a door. In the end she just stared at the door for a bit before walking over and starting to bang on the inner side of the door instead.” Hey, can come in only if you know the secret knock! Do you know the secret knock? Mr silversmith doesn’t allow people in without the secret knock took me ages and a nice song to figure it out earlier! Who are you anyways?” She asked without opening the door.

Maritaa considered Mallard's offer. Everything he said went up against the assumptions she had going in, and although she was loathe to be proven wrong, on the subject of metallurgy she knew essentially nothing and the man in front of her was easily, demonstrably her superior. Although to her mere moments before, it did not actually matter which of her weapons were silvered, this contradiction between ego and logic caused her to pause for several seconds before gingerly reclaiming her dagger and setting down the mace on his counter. A passing thought in the back of her head said that a silvered dagger could still be more versatile, if not in combat, in other situations. But she disregarded it. They needed all the firepower they could get.

As far as the guard was concerned, she continued to keep herself out of it. If he went to do something untoward, she would be able to step in, but as it were she hadn't a dog in this race. Even being the semi-literal judge of every situation she found herself in, she could go either way here. She didn't want the man dead and he could be a useful source of information, but he was also dangerous, a liability and dead weight. When Kathryn vehemently protested that they would not resort to torture, Marita casually looked away. Of course, she would never do harm unto someone without adequate justification however, the two of them were well acquainted, and it was miraculous how well a bit of force made people reevaluate their position and what they were willing to divulge. Hells, even the mere threat of it and perhaps a demonstration that you were willing to do it was often more than enough to do the trick. But the utility of violence during inquisition was not a topic she was going to bring up at a time and situation like this. Perhaps if she somehow ended up alone with the restrained guard in the meantime.

Information about the hammer was novel, but also not something Marita was interested in. It might be moontouched, but as a worshipper of a Solar deity, that didn't do enough to change her disposition on the subject. Even if Pholtus' light was silver as a full moon.

Marita's body tensed up when she heard the knocks at the door. There was no way that Mallard would simply let anyone in based on how he had been acting up until this point. This felt like an obvious trap. She wanted to tell everyone to be quiet until whoever was at the door left on their own, but the aggravating part of the situation was that she couldn't. If she spoke too loudly it would undo the entire point of speaking up in the first place, and it would also give Kathryn's new charge a route to causing trouble for them at little effort or risk to himself. Unfortunately, Kosara unprompted did almost the worst thing she could other than opening up the door to let the guest have unrestricted access to the inside of the shop. The cleric's voice stopped midway up her throat and she reached out to stop what was happening before her eyes before she let her head drop into the palms of her hands. This is yet another trial from the gods, she told herself. You shall overcome it as you have before.

Weather: Light rain, and though no one inside can tell, the temperature is beginning to drop slightly.

Time: Late afternoon. The cloud cover does not overly prevent the after-midday sun from illuminating the Township in any appreciable way though it's difficult to pinpoint exactly where it rests in the sky.

Ambience: In contrast to the dropping temperature outside, the silversmith's place is quite warm and just a tiny bit hazy. The two lamps lit by Jacques earlier and the constant dim glow of the flameless heat source under the pot forge provide adequate light to the room as a whole, though shadowy corners remain. The doors are solidly closed and barred with a heavy beam, front and back both. The fellow by the door is still there, and he's getting very curious.



"Um, hello?" The knocking continued from the door, even more uncertain than before. "I, I, um, I don't... Who is that? Is Monsieur Mallard okay?" The words spoken came from a lower, male voice, though the lack of overall confidence did not make this person seem hostile. There were a scattering of other words spoken though they made a little less sense than they probably should have. These words halted as the people inside made their own statements as if listening. A bit fainter, one from within could the same voice, presumably calling behind himself, "I don't know! I'm trying to find out!"

Meanwhile, Jacques gave the smallest of attention to the door or anyone else inside of his shop. He was working, and did not seem to like the distractions. He shook his head and selected Kathryn's axe next, preparing the same silver wire as with his last inlay, but paused as Marita replaced her dagger with the larger mace. This rerouted his attention enough to make him change his next course of action. "Hmm..." he mused, giving a simple nod and turning to his small pot forge. The oil used to quench his glowing metalwork while maintaining its integrity found a different use as he quickly applied it to general areas of the weapon which would not, in a mixture of his opinion and common sense, require silvering. The process itself took little time. It took even less time to dip portions of the business end and pommel into the crucible of perpetually heated silver and quench them in rapid succession with just enough care not to lose a drop of his precious metal. During this process he lightly dusted the mace with an impossibly fine powder. One more coating overall and he looked to Marita, "This is still quite hot." Jacques picked up a small jewelers' rod and began tapping the piece again and again, leaving a dimpled, hand-hammered appearance in the softened silver. "Overlay, rather than inlay for you. When it cools more fully I shall remove the excess and rebalance it. Is there a flourish or symbol you would like in the metal? There is a time factor, but I was expecting to work on more than just these few pieces." He kept up his tapping, occasionally brushing the item with a piece of rough leather.

Concerning the Great Moral Debate of what awful things to (or not to) do to the prisoner, the silversmith voiced no opinion. he barely gave this a look of disapproval whatsoever until things began to get loud. Hoping to break up the more aggressive train of thought, he answered Kathryn's question. This earned her an odd look, as if he was explaining something he thought might have been obvious. "The full moon lasts for three nights. Tonight is the first. Tomorrow night is its zenith."

The prisoner himself was awash in a sea of conflicting instincts, even if this didn't show more than a general sense of apprehension on his face. The threat made to him - and as much as it was spoken with generalities it was most certainly a threat - was something that he didn't seem to react to past twitching his head in the general direction of the speaker, this occasion being the Dragonborn fellow he had crossed swords with earlier. One could almost make out a tiny change of expression; a nervous twitch at the corners of his mouth. It could have been either amusement or anxiety, difficult as it is to read body language from a bound and blindfolded man.

Kosara's gambit led to stunned silence from the other side of the door. At first, a stillness fell upon the whole of the place, inside and outside both, as the people tried to process this new event, relayed from an unfamiliar voice and delivered with a sense of mirth that did not fit a post-streetbattle between guards and outsiders in a rural town scenario. After this stillness wore off, several things occurred in rapid succession:

First, the man outside spoke loudly, with fear coloring his earlier concern, "What? What have you done with Monsieur Mallard? Can you hear me in there, Jacques?"

This was immediately countered by a VERY annoyed silversmith, shouting, "Curse it all! Pitor, yes I can hear you! I have friends over - they're obviously drunk. Please hang up my sign and leave!" It was not a cover story that would hold up with any critical thinking whatsoever but it was all he could come up with in the moment. Jacques shot a withering scowl at Kosara.

THIS was immediately countered by the prisoner, moving as much as his binding and injured arm might let him, and called out, "HELP! They're hurting us!" His face was split by a wicked smile.

Jacques responded tersely, looking at both Kosara and Kathryn, "Get him out of here. Don't care what happens after he's gone."

The Guard himself shook with restrained laughter.

So much for unattached curiosity. What began as an annoying disagreement between adventuring colleagues quickly degraded into a potential melee within closed quarters right next to a craftsman plying his trade with molten metal. "Of course," Victoria thought wryly to herself, "nothing could possibly go wrong." More than this, the nature of her Bardic College and preferred school of spellwork meant that she was fairly versed in what could happen if a group of nervous townsfolk become united under fear, ignorance, or outrage. To her opinion, the situation which was fast shaping up with the people outside and the wily but blunt gambit of the Guard inside with them was the first domino to fall, the end result being a riotous mob assembling with torches and pitchforks unless it was nipped in the bud immediately. With a shake of her head, V quickly packed away her ritual materials in preparation for hasty movement, whatever form that would take in the coming minutes.

This was one of the reasons why her modus operandi tended to involve ingratiating herself to the public somehow when coming to a new area. For instance, when she performed a funerary service for a known and respected member of the greater community. Unfortunately, she was also associated with a barfight the previous evening and did perform some actions that might have spread necromancy-ish rumors about herself. The irony being that she used an illusion and a cantrip, not like they could tell the difference. And she hadn't been in town long enough to foster the appropriate goodwill and/or celebrity that might have saved her from a mob looking for a target, either. In short, her stance on non-involvement just got its legs cut out from under it.

Following this revelation, the first thing Victoria did was mentally alter the standing orders on her smoke and salt preserved undead swineservant, Morty. No change might be noticed from the burlap enswaddled beast, though a mote of concentration might have been caught coloring the Bard's sharp and nigh flawless features, if only for a half-second. The second thing she did was to buckle on her swordbelt. The slender and much prettier weapon remained on the counter in front of her for easy access (and because she still wished to examine the handiwork of the talented Mr. Mallard). Both an appreciation for beauty and a touch of vanity were hallmarks of Victoria's psyche, as any insightful observer might recognize, even in this potentially perilous moment.

Finally, Victoria's normally very controlled expression switched to one of disbelief and anger as Kosara ...Kosara-ed... In the most painfully foolish manner that she could possibly think of, and the purple Necrobard was no stranger to bad decisions, herself. "Are you suicidal?" she whispered through clenched teeth, forgetting herself and her composure for just a moment. It took a lot to truly surprise Victoria. This did it. There wasn't enough time to fully process what came after; to her estimation this was about to turn ugly and if someone didn't handle it, and soon, she was going to have to do something less civilized than with which she was comfortable. A slow hand gripped the hilt of her newly worked rapier even as she opened her soul to the lines and threads of magic within her. Even she wasn't completely sure what or who would be the focal point of her attention.

Kathryn listened closely as Victoria described the hammer she had confiscated from Cavendish. Though really, she wanted to make sure that it wasn't cursed, and she was about yo go ballistic on the party. Though she was sure that the party could get her to stop quick enough if that was the case, it wasn't something she wanted to see happen. There was no telling what kind of damage could be done in this confined space. But hearing everything else about the hammer was really just a great bonus after confirming it wasn't cursed. But confirming that it was a mighty fine weapon was nice, hearing it could emit light in the dark was also great! It meant she didn't need to forgo a shield for a torch in dark environments now. Being able to keep that extra protection would be huge. She was familiar with the concept of attuning to magical equipment. Ser Lucas had explained some of that to her some years prior. And so had her mother and uncle briefly. But until she was on the road with Ser Lucas, she hadn't really seen it in practice. But there was more... Though Victoria had said that there was nothing malicious about it, the unknown wasn't something Kathryn fancied. "Is there a way we can tell? Some... spell or ritual to uncover it? Or is it something like... luck." Maybe she should have studied more in the Arcane when she had the chance. But she hadn't. As a kid the idea of fighting with swords and fists appealed to her far more than of books, magic, and politics. Looking back, if her home hadn't fallen she likely wouldn't have made the best leader if she kept ditching her studies. She'd like to think she'd make a great household knight while her future husband handled other lordly duties. She still had the chance to be a proper Knight though. "Could it be a timing thing or..." She paused a moment considering what Mallard had just told her about the full moon.

Kathryn wasn't one to normally pay attention to the moon shy of looking up from time to time, and thinking how nice it may have looked that night. As Kathryn gripped the hammer from Victoria there was a slight look of dread on her face. The Were rats, the full moon, and Cavendish's hammer. A moon touched hammer. "Could the hammer be a ritual component?" Kathryn asked concerned. "You said it's not common for a hammer to be moon touched, and with everything going on with the full moon and..." She paused looking over at the restrained guard. "And with our new friends." She wanted to say more, but she wasn't sure how much she was willing to say in front of the prisoner. He was rapidly adding to the complications of their mission.

Speaking of the Guard, Blackberry was attempting to get some information from the man. It seemed he was on her side for how to treat him. Though he seemed rather guilty all things considering, they were not the law. And they were not lawless bandits. Kathryn wasn't sure how she felt on attempting to intimidate him using Kosara, but it wasn't torture. And after the tough situation she put the party in, she wasn't planning on getting too choosy with how they handled the situation. Kosara on the other hand, was getting difficult. "That is why we are better. How we are on the side of good. He wouldn't likely offer us the same treatment. The fact we are despite that fact is what sets us apart." She wasn't a fan of the twisting comment. But she understood Kosara's fury. Kathryn was ready to retort to Kosara's comment about taking the blame for any damage this caused, but found herself flustered and red faced on Kosara's comment on their well shaped hinds. Kosara would have the last words, but not because she won. Kathryn was just unsure how to react to her fellow party member describing her ass like that. She didn't think that her armor showed her figure enough to be gawked at. But it seemed, she was wrong.

Kosara's reaction to the door didn't help things. Thankfully, it just seemed to be a concerned citizen that Kosara was just freaking out a bit. Kathryn let out a sigh of relief. Mallard seemed to have things just fine, until the prisoner called out. Bullocks, he was continuing to be a worse problem for the party. With their problems worsening, Kathryn figured she had to do something to help mend the situation that she had indirectly put them in. So in a moment of panicked irrational thought she blurted out loudly "Oh Honey, you gotta stop saying things like that. No one can tell when you're joking or not." Kathryn realized the moment she spurted out the lie she fucked up. It sounded like a kid trying to plead her case to her parents after being caught stealing a cookie, and claiming they were grabbing it for her parents despite the crumbs on her blouse and chocolate on her face. She was only digging a deeper grave for herself, and now her party. Victoria didn't seem too pleased with the situation, and Kathryn couldn't blame her. Things were rapidly getting out of hand. But Mallard was right, they needed to get the guard out of here.

BlackBerry let his attention settle back towards the others, occasionally flitting back to the counter where Mr. Mallard continued his work and Victoria had seemingly finished hers. He made a little note to ask her about her magic; to be able to find out the properties of an item seemed like a very impressive skill to have, even if the visual look of it was disconcerting.

A moontouched-hammer, owned by a more than likely were-rat leader of some kind with an extra enchantment hidden away. As Victoria had said there was something else going on with that hammer. BlackBerry frowned at the thought. Perhaps it relied on something The Constable could do but they couldn’t. He nodded slightly while Lady Kathryn looked to be thinking along the same lines.

Whatever idea or question BlackBerry was about to ask was stopped by his heart lurching into his throat. He could only stare in shock, in sheer flabbergasted horror at Kosara brashly banging on the door right back whomever it was on the other side and shattering whatever ideas the party may have had of stealth.

Whatever warmth he had felt was quickly robbed from BlackBerry and replaced by the icy chill of horror as the situation quickly spiralled with the Guard only urging on the chaos.

No one had thought to gag the man!
BlackBerry himself had been staring straight at the man and yet at no point did he figure that that was an issue. He gritted his teeth with a frustrated snarl, mentally chastising both himself and Kosara, more-so Kosara than anything.

He pulled himself back up, giving the guard a good shove as he did.

“I suggest we leave.” BlackBerry added, already striding over to the door (south of the building). “And Quickly.”

"Do you mind if I?"He gestured to the large beam across the door to Mr.Mallard.

But without waiting for a response he lifted up the heavy wooden beam barring their way off of its hooks. It wasn't the easiest thing to handle with one arm, he puffed out his cheeks trying to keep it steady against his chest and across the length of his forearm.
He winced when the beam landed with a dull thud, standing upright against the wall between the table. Whoever was outside would undoubtedly be going frantic at this point.

"If it makes anyone feel better, I think they may just be concerned for Mr.Mallard here. And not out to kill us." He threw the man an apologetic smile, along with a silent prayer skyward. "But still, let's move. Shall we?"

He opened the door back into the outside world and took a few steps out so he could hold it open for the rest of the party, and their not so friendly hostage.

Well this situation was rapidly becoming untenable. Exactly what she had feared had come to pass, and there wasn't anything that she could think to do in the situation that would smooth things over. Had she not had to use her Voice of Law a few minutes prior, she was fairly confident in her ability to at least prevent a potential riot, now things were much more dicey. However, putting everything on the table, one thing was clear: they couldn't let the guard continue on as he was. There and then she made a snap decision that would likely make them look worse than they already did, but this was a no-win situation.

A displeased sneer on her face, the cleric reached over and grabbed her mace from the counter before taking a few strides over to the guard. Wordlessly, she lifted the mace before bringing it down on his head, swiftly knocking him out. She hadn't swung it as hard as she could, or even with a particularly notable amount of force, but she felt from the moment of impact that she happened to hit just the right spot to do a lot more damage than she was anticipating. Chances were that he'd need some kind of medical attention soon or risk death. Well, it didn't matter too much to her right now. If she didn't have quite the skillset she had, perhaps she would have said something or been worried by it, but as it stood, her face twisted in displeasure just a bit more as she turned around and gently set the not-quite-finished-yet weapon back on the counter.

"If I had a better option I wouldn't have interrupted your work," she said to Mallard. "I hope you understand." The cleric swiftly made her way back to the unconscious guard and knelt down, touching his forehead coincidentally around the point of impact.

"Spare the Dying."

Nothing happened outwardly, unlike most of her spells which came with a significant amount of flash, but if her feeling was right and he was indeed in near-critical situation, he would be stable now. And if he wasn't, she didn't have to expend any resources to do this and there was nothing to worry about as far as accidental deaths went. With that cantrip cast, that was all she needed to do as far as that problem was immediately concerned. If she had the time, she would gag him to avoid further issue, but that seemed to be out of the question. Also unfortunate that she probably wouldn't have access to her primary weapon for some time, but she had to choose which losses to take now. She looked up towards Blackberry who made the most sensible suggestion she had heard all day.

"Agreed, we should leave now. Mallard, is Robert's package ready to take back to him? I would hate to have to face him empty-handed after everything that's happened here."

“What do you mean?” She asked cutely at V, head tilting in confusion at the question. She wasn’t suicidal… probably. She didn’t think so? The tiefling was just trying to make a dialogue with whomever was on the other side of the door! It never hurt to be cordial and friendly with people!

Ohh it was going down now. Kosara was going to hurt that rat badly. He was proven multiple times that he was a menace and evil and his wicked grin was about the most certain prove she needed. He was not repentant in any way shape of form as far as she was concerned and she didn’t pay any attention to the door for a bit as she turned around and glared at the rat, golden sparkles dancing across her horns as she was preparing to blast him to proper death this time around. She gave the ‘I told you so’ glare at Kathryn for her continued defense of the little rodent. Her attempts at solving the situation didn’t seem very good, but it was cute. Kathryn trying subterfuge was adorable!

Sadly her momentary distraction with a half-giant’s adorable attempts at subterfuge and misdirection cost her the chance to finish off the rat menace once and for all as a decently loud bonk was heard. Kosara looked with absolute awe and admiration as the cleric had whacked the bastard with her mace over the head!” Yay!” The tiefling childishly cheered at the sight, grinning like a child that god a gift.” See, perfect.” She told Kathryn and looked at the others while still grinning, noting that Berry was suggesting to leave quickly and Mr Smith of Silver Mallard seemed in agreement Kosara nodded.” Alright, just let me pick my clothes first!” She called loudly and probably rather wrong choice of words, but eh details as she darted over to the fireplace, picking up her things, putting them on in motion and rushing out the back door. She will kill the rat later… Not like they could just bring him along anyways. She was still wondering why they were even keeping him alive.

“And out~ Thank you Berry.” She chirped as she stomped out of the door in the light rain again, having rushed past Berry that had held the door open for them. Now she just needed a good chance to Celestial Blast the rat into oblivion and save everybody the troubles he would bring. Both the townfolk and the party's...

Weather: The rain remains quite light, but this lessening of precipitation seems to come with a noticeable drop in temperature.

Time: Settled afternoon. Cloud cover remains, but it looks to be clearing up a little - just enough so far to get a good idea where the pale sun it located. While still freely in the sky providing all of the light that conditions allowed, it is heralding the oncoming moonrise, and with it, the dim twilight. Short hours remain.

Ambience: More acrid smells associated with burning metal flare within the shop as Jacques continues his work. It is still significantly more comfortable in this building than it is outside, even if a lack of conventional seating is apparent. The soft glow of the lamps illuminate with much greater ability than the glow from the flameless forge, though all do their part.



"Hey! Who was that?" called a voice of alarm - the same voice that showed its own brand of somewhat cowardly concern for the goings on within the Silversmith's place. "What are you talking..?" The man seemed almost fully flabbergasted at the novice attempt at deception. "No, that's ... that's all wrong! There's something wrong about this!" he declared, taking a step backward and closer to ground level on the stair in front of the door. "I shall find help! Don't you worry!" Though there was a lack of retreating footsteps right at that moment.

Jacques Mallard, taking on a manner of pragmatism in this unsettling time, gave Baronfjord a nonverbal gesture to go ahead and open the back door even if his Dragonborn guest wasn't exactly paying attention. The use of the door did not run in conflict with his desire to have the Guard out of his place, nor his present stipulation on timing. As the awning-covered door swung open, a blast of chillier air swirled into the shop, reminding those inside that they were indeed into an advanced autumn season and the weather was not always their friend.

But speaking to weather - the rainfall was almost tolerable now and appropriate clothing would keep one more or less comfortable in the short term without getting soaked to the bone. Voices could be heard through this doorway, but their owners were not visible. Instead, this seemed to be an echo of the murmurings from people on the front side of the business, reflected from the stone wall of the next structure to them. This door opened to a wider alleyway, which framed around the building proper. One might be able to escape notice by going around this building to the south, though making such an attempt would temporarily put them within line-of-sight with the main thoroughfare in the process. It was a small gamble to attempt sneakiness rather than simply fleeing noisily. To the other side, one may simply walk around the building on the side opposite the door, though that would lead one in an obvious path to the front. For the more surreptitious, there was one shuttered window facing the alleyway which looked to be in some disrepair, though what lay in the otherwise featureless stone building was anyone's guess.

Marita's blunt assault of the Guard was not unnoticed by the silversmith. The only thing he scowled about, however, was the use of the unfinished mace. He waved it off and gave a quiet, ever-so-slightly annoyed "Pray don't mention it," before getting to the actually important topic at hand. "Yes. Robert's package is ready and boxed, please get it to him swiftly. And..." He took a single sheathed dagger from his collection and placed it upon the box, explaining, "In case you can't get back in time. It's a loan, I expect it back. Do you understand?" He eyeballed everyone remaining in his workshop with this statement. "If one or more of you choose to stay, I should have your commissions done before nightfall. The one may catch up to the others before the sun sets." If they could not, well, this building was safer than most. "I can probably talk Pitor down, so long as he doesn't think I'm being held against my will. Though I am obviously a bad liar."

Noting the manner in which Kosara left the place and giving thought to what he had witnessed concerning her just recently, Jacques commented, "Your friend, she is one of the goodly folk? I know her people have a reputation, but... I worry, is all. Keep yourselves safe. If we get through this alive, I might be more help to all of you yet."

"I'll return your blade. You have my word." Marita placed her fist over her heart as she made the vow. She grabbed the box and the dagger, tucking the latter into her belt. She didn't really trust any of the others to make the delivery to be honest. Kathryn and BB were both sore thumbs, liable to attract attention and trouble just from their size, let alone the rest of their appearances. Victoria probably would make the delivery, but there was always the chance that the bard would get a bit too curious and peek inside the packaging, and in the worst case scenario attempt to pilfer it for herself. It wasn't a huge chance, but why play those odds when there was no reason to. And lastly, Kosara was Kosara. She combined the worst traits of the others by being a sore thumb and fickle simultaneously. She'd never steal the contents of their delivery, but the chances of her getting distracted were much more real of an issue. No, the cleric was the one to hold onto the box.

"She's... different. She hails from another land, but I don't think that truly explains her uniqueness. As far as I can tell, her heart is in the right place, but she is naïve and has and odd way of seeing the world. At the very least I doubt any of her more extreme proclivities are due to hellfire running through her veins." At least if it were, it was hellfire she was acutely unaware of. This was about as positive an appraisal she could give of the warlock. At times she felt like dealing with Kosara was more akin to looking after a child, a task she felt quite ill-suited towards. But the group already had enough rumors spreading about them, there was no need to add more fuel to that fire.

Marita made her way out the back door and made a quick evaluation of the different routes that they had available to them. Going through the window never even crossed her mind. Even if it had, that would be breaking and entering, and they had no reason to want to get into that particular building anyways. If she had been a bit more criminally minded, it might have occurred to her that this random building might be a good place to dump the guard's unconscious body, but as it were the routing seemed obvious to her.

"We should go through the South. It's our best chance to slip by unnoticed." She whispered to the rest of the group.

Things were looking dicier and dicier by the moment. Kosara despite her efforts, had handled the situation with their new guests poorly. Though Kathryn enjoyed her new friend, and she had her pleasant moments, she had a tendency to not approach any situation with delicacy. Blackberry already seemed to be taking control of the situation, preparing the party for a rapid departure away from Mallard's. "Thank you Mr. Mallard for your help. We'll do what we can to fix this quickly." They were only now starting to figure out what this was. Though they were getting a better idea of what, they still didn't know the why, or the how. And for all they knew, there was a lot more to the what. But Cavendish was connected. Marita's idea to search the municipal building may be their next best step once they helped Robert. She wondered if it would be good to sneak in under cover of night, but she had no idea how those kinds of jobs were done. And without Hugh, she figured it would be a lot harder than sneaking up on a bunch of drunk goblins.

As Kathryn was deep in thought prepping her gear to leave, she heard the all to recognizable sound of blunt force trauma being exerted on the human body. She turned to see Marita as shut the guard up rather effectively. Kathryn couldn't even be upset in this case, despite her best attempts at not letting him be tortured or to be left for dead in the streets, he still insisted on causing problems. It did seem Marita stabilized him. But it was clear they would not be able to use him. Not in their current state. Kathryn booked it to the rest of her supplies, throwing on her pack and making sure her weapons were all in their respective places to be drawn as needed. Then there was the guard... Kathryn ignored Kosara's glares. Kathryn fucked up yes, but Kosara also had a share of the blame in this case. Now it was damage control, and getting the mission done. "We can talk about this later Kosara." Kathryn then picked up the guard roughly by his bindings, not caring as much if she ruined his broken arm more this time around, and was really just concerned with getting him out of the way.

Kathryn took note of the dagger attached to the package. She hoped it wouldn't come to that, but as things started to rapidly get more and more out of control, she began to worry more and more. "I think we'll all be heading out. I don't think it's a good idea for us to split up after what happened with Cavendish. If he comes at us again, half a party may not be able to keep him at bay. Especially since now it seems to be open war. We'll keep an eye on her, she's just... enthusiastic about things." For better or worse. "We'll be back with your dagger and anything we can't bring with us. Give us a call if you need help." Kathryn booked it out the door carrying the guard like a carry on bag, looking for a place to stash him out of sight.

Victoria quietly sheathed the length of her blade when the lycanthropic Guard succumbed to forced unconsciousness, thanks to Marita. The feel of its heft was a little different. Still perfectly serviceable, still sharp enough to ruin someone's weekend plans with little pressure. And now much prettier. If Victoria retired tomorrow she would keep this someplace prominent as a conversation piece. But it looked like she was the only one with a completed weapon. Her desire was to remain there as it was warm and fortified, with lots of silver goodies that would make life interesting for whichever sort of rat-canthrope tried to stick their twitchy little whiskers inside, until the silversmith's job was completed and decide what to do from there. But it seemed that circumstances and her companions were not going along with this plan.

The debate lingered in her mind just for a short time after Marita expertly clubbed the guard near to death and immediately mumbled a divine supplication. It solved their problem but looked absolutely brutal. This brought a tiny chuckle from the Bard. Efficient, certainly. Not the nicest thing ever, but its effectiveness could not be denied. For a half-second, Victoria thought that the spell cast was related to Necromancy, thusly piquing her own interests, as it looked to halt the ebbing of the man's soul. It took a moment, but her experience with clerics of differing faiths in her studies revealed to her the nature of Marita's magic. It was true Necromancy, if one of the smallest motes of it like her ability to manifest unlife in baser creatures for a time. Dare she say it, Victoria might have actually been jealous. She did not think that she had the ability to do something like that. Yet. It seemed her preferred school of magic was also utilized by the straightlaced Cleric. That brought a smile to her face.

The further nail in the coffin of her staying came with the fact that everyone else was very dead-set on leaving immediately. Victoria might have argued that Jacques was confident he could rub social ointment on the worry out front, and so long as she could speak, she was likewise confident in her ability to help with this. In the end it mostly came down to two factors: First, a split party getting ambushed by Cavendish and the others might go badly. It might go badly with a full party, but every body counted now and they did not have the home advantage. There were only two silver weapons in the party's arsenal and if she stayed behind, that was only one. Magic was a finite resource when channeled though the bodies and minds of mortals. They might need her. Second, she had told Robert that she would assist in bringing the package back. Being strictly to her word was not always her forte, but that guy was alright. Gruff, perhaps, but alright. "Fine, let us go. But we shall be back before the setting of the sun, Monsieur Mallard. We still have a bargain in the works." And a lucrative one for them, at that.

Victoria grabbed up her hat and twirled her purple-lined, charcoal colored cloak about her shoulders. Her violin case soon followed. With an optimistic yet determined look about her face, she exited the back door, pausing to tip her hat to Baronfjord as he held it open. "Yes," she said to her Dragonborn ally, "Perhaps it is time to leave this place." But not for good. The others needed their equipment, as much or more than she did. An Kosara? To Victoria's estimation, she needed to get as far away from this place and Jacques Mallard as possible. Victoria slipped right up to their party Warlock and spoke with all of camaraderie and cheerfulness she may while keeping a respectable level of cautious quiet, "Hey girl. Tense in there, huh? How about we shake it off, grab a glass of something memorable, and rest for a time?" Her voice became sarcstic, even playful as she summed up, "I just happen to know a place here in town." A quick wink and she also made for the alleyway leading south, mindful of the expanse they had to pass in view of the street.

BlackBerry winced upon hearing the dull crunch of the guards skull beneath Maritas hammer. He didn’t want to see the guard hurt or killed per say but being shot in the stomach did colour ones opinions slightly. Plus, he had tried to warn the Guard about just this. It wasn’t exactly the most elegant way to resolve the situation but it at least would make things easier without the Guard raising hell everywhere they went, and if he was dead well…
BlackBerry then shrugged a little at the thought. What was one more dead, corrupted guard to the world? Frankly it could could do with far less.

“I imagine that will still leave a mark in the morning.” He commented as Marita did what he could only assume was some magic on the guard. Possibly to keep him alive. “But, thank you Marita, it does make one less thing for us to worry about.”

Standing just outside the door, left hand bracing it open, he turned back to scowl up at the drizzle past the safety of the awing. His eyes slid around the alley as he took a moment to look around trying to spot where they should go next.

The window opposite caught his attention for a moment, certainly the sneakiest way out but also the least attractive option with at least one of them, or simply Lady Kathryn, having to carry the unconscious Guard. He chewed his lip as his stomach churned frantically. He wasn’t used to this hiding and running away business, he much preferred to tackle problems head on and preferably with some nice sweet pastries of some kind afterwards. No. Best idea would be to try and go down one of the streets and hope none of the voices he could hear bouncing around from out front would think to come looking.

“Come on, come on.” He stretched his head back into the Silversmiths and hissed frantically. “We need to get a move on!”

He let Lady Kathryn slip by, holding the guard like a sack of potatoes. He followed the sight with a slight grimace. Granted BlackBerry himself didn’t blend into a crowd by any means in these parts but he was certain a knocked out guard being carried about would raise even more questions.

“One moment, Lady Kathryn.” Still holding the door open he spoke. “Do we have anything to cover him up at all? I imagine seeing a Guard being carried about wouldn’t go unnoticed.”

He began hunting with his eyes for something, or anything they could use to at least cover the mans clothing, not that BlackBerry knew for certain but he could be wearing something that would mark the man out as a guard.

“Failing that…we could just leave him somewhere. I’m sure his fellows will find him eventually in any case.” He shook his head, and the idea away. “But moving on, there the alleyway to the right should lead us back into the main street and will take us away from here quickly. Hopefully.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth that Victoria came striding out of the Silversmiths and, bold as brass, set towards the southern street. After checking everyone had left the silversmith he closed the door and fully expected to hear the sounds of movement, and of the wooden bar being put back into place by Mr.Mallard inside.

To the South it was then. He followed after the group.

For a difference from the usual state of affair, Kosara was now giving Kathryn the angry pout expression since the warrior woman of giant muscle renown was refusing to see reason on the topic and white tiefling was already planning the rat’s demise as soon as Kathryn let go of him somewhere. She wasn’t taking chances with the party well-being nor the townfolks’. This rat was a pest and a menace and she was utterly convinced he was evil judging by his expression just a few moments earlier.

Her righteous and justified plans for murder were suddenly interrupted when V walked over to her and Kosara turned her entire focus and attention at her bardly friend in glorious purple.” Ehh it wasn’t too tense... it might not be a bad idea though. I do want to rest a bit more and maybe something to snack on.” Kosara nodded to V, seemingly entirely missing the sarcastic notes in her voice.” Yes!” And like that a certain rat pest was (ALMOST) entirely forgotten as tiefling swung her hand with a flourish and aimed down south where V was heading. A scimitar with a golden handle with a horse head pummel formed in her hand.” Onwards.” She cheerfully quipped and put the sword away before running after V to catch up and go along with her friend. She made sure to keep on the opposite side of wherever Kathryn ends of the bard though. Kosara was being angry with her and was going to ignore her for the time being. Later she was going to give her an earful about the dangers of pesky enemies that shouldn’t be treated like friends just because they are defeated. Also because she was RIGHT!

“I want a warm Cheese and Bacon sandwich! Also spiced wine.” She stated eventually and cheerfully, on the topic of food and drink to be gotten when they get to rest a bit. The spiced wine was natural of course, but why the sandwich one might ask? Well Kosara recalled Kathryn’s reaction to it earlier and she was going to do it again just o mess with her! No she was NOT being childish. It was just the right punishment of irritation for her knightly half giant friend for not listening to reason.

Weather: Light rain, but with a growing chill.

Time: Settled afternoon. One might say "prevening", that being a horrifying mash-up of Pre and Evening, which likely shouldn't have been mentioned. But seeing as this was already posted, it's a little bit late to change it now.

Ambience: The cloud cover was breaking up in places even as the slight rain continued its earthbound travel. The alley behind the Silversmith's place was mostly barren with the exception of the stack of crates, likely the castoffs of merchants and awaiting pickup from same. Occasional bits of worried chatter could be heard from the main thoroughfare on the other side of the building, indistinct enough that only the occasional syllable was discernible from the otherwise unintelligible droning. General awkwardness might have been the more pervasive feeling of the hour as attempts to read a generally righteous situation were marred by the dread cast about by recent events, not to mention the insular tendencies of rural communities. An opportunity to quietly exit a situation before it escalates is usually welcome in these instances, which seems to be the general consensus.

Somehow, unthinkably, and counterintuitive to the obvious danger and/or oppressive weather that day, the faint scent of pork and burning, aromatic wood can be detected in the air. Those guys were still at it.



The southern path led the group past both the stacks of crates and the westernmost side of the building. Not as obvious as circling around the other side, whose only egress was to the main street, but an element of risk was involved. So long as all parties kept their wits about them and moved carefully, they would be able to reach the slim space between buildings that would lead them further into the southeast quadrant of Avonshire Township and closer to Neil & Bob's Public House. Unfortunately, fate had conspired to make this somewhat more stressful and less simple than that.

Most everyone was doing an adequate job at remaining unnoticed, some doing notably better than others, but even the noise of Kathryn's armor wasn't obvious enough to draw any attention from the townsfolk around the front of the building. In fact, everyone seem3d to have this latest challenge in the bag until sheer, dumb, inexplicable disaster struck. A single stray link of Marita's mail armor caught the edge of a crate - one nearer the bottom of the stack than the top - and held fast. The very next step that the Cleric of Pholtus took resulted in the sound of already damaged wood splintering further, creating an overall imbalance in the stack. From here, gravity took over, felling the simply shaped wood like skeletal timber and spilling them across the alley, a couple skidding into the aperture with the direct view to the main thoroughfare.

For just a second, time seemed to freeze.

"What the Hells is THAT, Jacques!?" came the familiar, if still nervous voice of the door-knocker from earlier. "They're sneaking in through the back, now!" Raised voices and the clearer path around allowed for better understanding of more of the conversation, such as it was.

"Pitor!" came an equally loud and much more annoyed voice. This belonged to none other than Monsieur Mallard himself, who had to have opened the door to speak, else it would not have been heard with the limitations of standard human hearing. "Don't be a fool if it is possible!" He was outright yelling at this point. "Those were guests and clients, and if you had only half of your head out of your ass you would mind your own business! GO HOME!" There was a brief pause and simple followup, "NOW." Conversation faded back to mumbles from the point of view of those in the alley, punctuated by the slam of a heavy door.

This exchange seemed to bewilder the small crowd of folks gathered, at least enough that no one came running around immediately. Swift feet would carry one away before the more curious ventured to the back, though one could never tell if a glimpse had been taken of the retreating group and their human(ish) cargo. From somewhere back in the direction of the street, one might hear the voice of a child exclaiming, "Hey, Mommy! I found a spear in the road! Can I keep it?"

The escape was not without a hitch, however, the overall potential sneakiness was just enough to allow the group to navigate - mostly unnoticed - around until they picked up on something more familiar. Coming up from the other end of the side street than the party had taken thusfar in their stay in Avonshire, a recognizable hanging sign could be spied in the distance.



Entering the tavern, one could see Lea standing by the bar. She had a towel laid across her forearm like she was expecting to provide pour or cleanup service, but her face struck one was being more nervous than anything. As for the proprietor, Robert, he looked downright feverish. Paler skin than usual was enhanced by beads of sweat and an overall visage of discomfort, yet an immediate (if only partial) change to relief flushed over him as the party entered his establishment. He walked to a window and peered outside before pulling heavy curtains shut. "You got it, right?" he half whispered.

Five other people were present; customers, by the look of them. Bob shook his head and addressed them all in brief, "I'm closing for a couple hours. Whatever you haven't paid for is on the house. Unless you have business with me, it's time to go." The people grumbled their complaints, but dutifully began to shuffle out. Once they were out, Robert turned his attention to the group of clandestine outsiders and hastily inquired, "What happened?"