Before one could say, "Yeah, a little TOO quiet"," their environment took steps to correct it. The scrabbling movement just out of sight of their group was more than a little disconcerting. Magical light against fog did not work out quite so well for her as it might have for others, it turned out. When Kosara's illumination brought the twilight up to something more full, all that it did for Victoria was turn the limiting, colorless effects of the dying daylight against thick fog to slightly more colorful effects of dying daylight against thick fog. It was useful to the Humans in the group (and probably the Dragonborn as well, she really wasn't certain) and didn't hinder her as the fog stunted her Elven darkvision just as much as it did those who could only see in the light. Still, as the Tiefling was being polite enough to pass out magical light sources, the least she might do was give a polite response in kind. "Thank you, but no. I should want a hand free for my own expressions of magic." Her other hand was already occupied by her sword; an item that she used less frequently than other measures of defense but undeniably a useful tool for the purpose. Plus, it was really pretty now.

Attempts at stealth were pointless in this hour as well. The light, useful as it was, might as well have been a dinner bell or well positioned sign advertising conditionally free ale. Victoria still kept her footfalls light and deliberately placed, relying on her dancer's agility to keep her mobile and ready for whatever lay concealed within the fog. She made it a point to hover a little further away from the magically shiny blade or anything else which might suddenly come alight, not from a hesitance to be around nor fear of the brightness, but because of the tiniest of annoyance of its presence. Morty kept to her heel with its own sort of lopsided synchronicity, obeying the standing commands given unerringly. It wasn't as if the creature had a choice.

The continuing sounds of movement just outside of their field of vision was disturbing. So long as nothing came within the radius of visible area from the fog beyond there could be some sort of plausible deniability. The flipside of that particular coin meant that one's imagination might play havoc on them as they attemped to suss out the unknown but obviously present. The extremely tense details of their situation heightened this. And sadly, as a True Bard (if at least half Necromancer), Victoria had a healthy and reaching imagination. But they were close to where they needed to be now, and the party would be stronger for this shortish walk.

Around this time, Baronfjord asked a question, which Victoria felt obligated to answer. Her head was scanning what painfully little she might try to make out through the fog, saying, "It isn't the first time here I have had the notion of being watched. I shall be happier when we have secured our people behind friendly doors."

"Aye," Marita said in agreement to Kathryn's response to the state of their plans tomorrow, in that there were none. "We didn't have the time to really sort things out, irksome as it is." In addition to some of the ideas put forth by the other party members in the earlier discussion, there were a few courses of action Marita could think of for the next day, assuming there were no radical changes of circumstance during the night, but nothing had been set in stone. She hoped that there were no such changes, but part of her felt a dire certainty that the next several hours would go very smoothly for either herself or the township of Avonshire. The seemingly inevitable alteration of the situation also made it so that even if they had come up with a plan in the Public House that it would no longer be actionable come sunrise, however she still felt as though the benefit of having tangible goals would outweigh the negatives any complications could bring about.

"Would you be able to light up my shield, Kosara?" It felt obvious that if any objects were to have magical light attached to them, it should be the shield with the big sun insignia emblazoned on it. It was also already being held in hand, so it wasn't like she would be burdened by it. Not to mention that the only light source being a couple of swords felt... wrong. There wasn't really much more to it than that. Her thoughts on this matter were more or less entirely fueled on her emotions.

"I can only pray that you're right about that, Kathryn. To me this atmosphere feels more like," the set up before an ambush. She dared not utter the words aloud, lest she unwittingly speak it into existence, regardless of whether it was true or not. For all she knew, ever since they set foot into the fog they had been watched from every available window in Avonshire. If that were the case, at the very least now they wouldn't be fighting blind when the first strike came. For all the ill it did for traveling stealthily, if the enemy is better at navigating the shadows it was a net positive for everyone to be able to see.

Kathryn was grateful Kosara could set up a bunch of lights using her magic, though Kathryn would decline having one personally. Instead opting for a torch to help keep things lit. Between that and everyone else's lights and ability to see in the dark, she hoped that nothing could sneak up on them. It seemed most agreed more or less with Kathryn's theory that everyone was taking shelter for the night. She really hoped that was the case. Otherwise things may already be too late for too many people. Between the subtle noises, and all the actions taken about in the dark. It was clear something was off. Kathryn gave another pound against Mallard's door. "Mallard we need to hurry." She said with a bit more of a commanding tone. One she normally wouldn't try to pull off. But they still had people to check up on tonight. Apart of her worried maybe they should have split up. Maybe she herself could book it to the L'Roses? A fast sprint to there and back? Maybe that's what they should have done, and have whoever wrapped up first meet the other at the next location. But it was far too late for that now.

The sounds continued. More and more. Kathryn was preparing to drop the torch and draw the hammer, ready to face whatever threat came from out of the fog. Taking a brief look around, she decided she couldn't stand at the door any longer. Be it curiosity, or a need to keep the others behind her if things went south, she stepped to the edge of the group attempting to keep everyone between her and the door. The dim glow from the hammer could be seen, though she wasn't sure how useful it would be against the fog. For now, the torch and the magical lights would do. "Do you think whoever watching is the same as who was watching you before?" She asked Victoria quietly, keeping her eyes focused on the fog. Looking in, she decided she wanted a better look, but dared not to book it into the unknown. If they were being followed she was determined to know for sure.

With a surprisingly elegant underhand toss the torch flew some feet down the road the party had originally came down. She hoped to keep the motion fast enough so if anything or anyone was on the road behind them they couldn't get out of the light too fast, but not so fast to burn out the torch. But really, she didn't need to see them. She just needed to see something move. If she could see it, that would be enough to know. Then she could face it.

Weather: Ambient temperatures hold firm somewhere between merely annoying and near-freezing. The fog continues its assault on one's distance vision, given strength from the river and recent weather conditions.

Time: Night proper is set to fall at any minute.

Ambience: Oh, the shallow breath being held in trepidation that was this township was palpable as a metaphysical certainty. The swift and jittery intake of air past the teeth of a condemned man as the axe descends toward the back of his neck would be an apt comparison. Tension is especially high amid the stagnant fog, which reveals only those festival decorations are nearest to the group while simultaneously giving them a ghostly outline. The sound of dripping water is constant, if a little hard to overhear amid the other, less settling noises of movement just outside of the party's light sources. For the more sensitive to things of this nature, the place feels sick.

Yet somehow, elsewhere in town and in truest dedication, the barbecue continued unabated.



The torchlight glided through the mostly still air in a decent enough arc, clattering to the cobblestones in a very near to even, three-point landing. It sputtered and flickered a little at hard connection was made but remained mostly steady, extending its illumination just a touch farther into the oppressive mists of the evening. Beyond the reach of the magic by its sheer virtue of piercing the fog, the mundane incendiary rod did what the cantrip could not - give those nearby a glimpse into the deeper concealment surrounding them.

This glimpse lasted but for a sparse second, revealing to those perceptive enough to catch it the sight of a series of reflective, red eyes. Dozens of them revealed in that one segment of orange light from the looks of it, burning with intensity and animalistic curiosity before instantly turning and scampering away. Tiny, slender feet and long, skinny, erratic tails visible as they scurried away from the sudden heat and light; yet still other outlines of large, round ears and long noses in front of twitching whiskers which bore closer witness to the torch before they, too, had enough and pulled back. The same noise of movement sounded again at this sudden introduction of a fire, obviously coming from these small creatures en masse and rippling out into places the light did not touch - and beyond - like a wave or chain reaction of movement.

Rats. Uncounted numbers of rats.

Luckily, they were not around the door of Monsieur Jacques Mallard, who finally opened his door with a thump and a start. He bore in his hands the tools of injury left to him and sought to distribute with as little fanfare as possible, urgency splayed across his face. "What? Oh, you almost didn't make it. Quick now, and be off with you!" His words were a little more terse than probably intended, perhaps forgivable by the occasion and peril waiting to be experienced. Nevertheless, he was true to his word, pulling off what would have otherwise been impossible by the standards of normal smiths, unassisted by a piece or two of magic.

The first items he distributed were to Kathryn. A hand axe and a dagger, both of which had floral patterns deeply engraved into the metal and lines of forge-fresh silver gleaming from the expertly etched grooves. Whatever their origin before, they now looked like a matched set of light, silvered weapons for the slayer-on-the-go. Were one to replace handles or wrappings they would look quite new. A quick polish, sharpening, and coat of oil were likewise apparent. A little detail work and they would be truly princely of quality.

To Marita, the silversmith handed what looked like a complete overhaul of her mace. Instead of an inlay, hers acquired an overlay of silver in the more painful portions of the weapon, every inch of it mottled with tiny, regular indentations, by the design of skilled hands. The same treatment was given to the pommel for a more appropriate balance and a portion of the shaft was bound by braided wire. The crown of the head of the mace was adorned with a vectored version of the traditional holy symbol of Pholtus, a silvery sun with a smaller lunar crescent, as he had noted on Marita's person earlier. The quality of this weapon rivaled that of his work with the Bard's sword, but in a highly differing style. Any Champion of Law would require absolution from their immediate and unwanted covetousness of such a tool of bludgeoning prowess.

"Thank you for helping my friend," he said, "And thank you for trying to help us all." The topic took a swift change as he belted out, "Now please get away from my door while I slam it and set the bar back up. You know how to reach me if you need." Jacques held up a stone, partnered to the one given to the group from earlier that day. "And I know how to get in touch with you. Good luck tonight. Try not to die." A man of his word, the door shut heavily. Sounds of reinforcing it could be heard from the other side.

The last light of the setting sun faded slowly from view, turning twilight into dusk.

“Hmmm, sure!” Kosara pipped up at their newly resident dragonborn’s request for glowing sword too. So without doing much thinking she hopped and skipped over to him and placed a hand on his sword where the handle and the guard were, channeling the mystical energies of gold, muttering something and going through the motions before unleashing the cantrip on the sword! With a sudden flash it began glowing brightly golden instead as her own sword quickly lost it’s shine and she blinked.

“… I forgot! You can only keep a light spell on a single object!” She stated in sudden realization, looking at her now distinctly not glowing in heroic way scimitar.” Ehh doesn’t matter, it’s still good the way it is.” She stated happily and pointed it towards the sky in happy way. Let it not be said that Kosara is not looking on the sunshine side of life. She was completely seemingly ignoring noises that might be happening around them for now at least.

“Marita, I forgot that only one light can be up! For some reason prior ones just go out.” Kosara blinked at her cleric friend and looked at the shield then at the monk’s sword and back at the shield.” The shield wins!” She jumped over to the cleric and repeated the motion with her shield instead, switching the light for a third time in such a small span of time to the big now shiny shield with a sun on it.” It’s fitting! The sun must shine! Praise the sun!”

In any case as they moved and had an eventual brief chance to glimpse through the fog there were a lot of red eyes. Those eyes made Kosara stare at the fog, tilting her head looking intensely into the fog as if she could see through it. She couldn’t, but it didn’t stop her from looking at it! At least until Mr Mallard opened his door and began distributing the goods… gear… goods… yes.” Hey, Mr Mallard! Look after yourself tonight, alright!” Kosara cheerfully greeted him when he showed up.

Finally when he closed the door and barricaded himself again, they were alone out on the street and presumably surrounded by things with beady red eyes swarming all around them just beyond the reach of the lights. Well with nothing to do, she sheathed her scimitar and pulled a candle out of her bag.” So… anyone has torches? I never got any cause I never needed them in the past.” Kosara quipped as she cast a quick prestidigitation on the candle to light it up.” The Light spell was usually enough for me if I had to go anywhere in the dark and candles was all I needed indoors otherwise...” The candle really wasn’t sending much light around them given the magical glowing shield that they had.

Nature, see if they’re looking to attack or just following: 19
The rats are massing in the open, which isn't normal under usual circumstances. Many of them appear to be very curious about you guys, but they don't seem to be massing to attack, so far as you are aware.

“Hm, wonderful.” Victoria confirmed his worst fears and BlackBerry near chewed upon his feigned happiness, dripping with sarcasm. “Always a pleasure to have happy guests dropping in unannounced.”

He let Kosara to do her work to apply the spell; twisting around slightly to avoid being in the way of her movements. This time, he learned not to look at the object as the light burst from it. Staring down at it he couldn’t help but think to himself, with a small smile.

I have a magic weapon. How delightful. The others will be so pleased to hear of this back home.

BlackBerry knew the effect was temporary but while it lasted it did make him a little be happy nonetheless. He just didn’t realise how temporary it would be as he watched, feeling somewhat disappointed, Kosara quickly move the magical light over to Maritas shield. The light disappearing from his shortsword as it bloomed from the shield. It made more sense though as Marita could still wield the shield for light and defence in a fight, which would be a darn-sight more useful that he could have done with the sword against their foes.

Wanting to stay useful he turned back again towards the fog behind the group to where Lady Kathryns thrown torch had landed, loudly, a few moments ago. His stomach dropped in time with his jaw. That was a lot of rats. In the spluttering torch light there was no where for them to hide. No Mercy from the sight of their writhing, scurrying, bodies crashing over each other.

A strained whisper escaped. “Oh no.” He dropped into his usual fighting stance and grabbed his shortsword ready to fight.

But when nothing more came from the rats, aside from the panicked squeaks or argumentative squeals to each other, they hopped in and out of the circle of light from the torch he came to realise something.

“I…I would wager they’re not here to attack us. At least, not yet anyway.” BlackBerry locked eyes with one, that squealed and then ran back into the darkness. Repressing a shiver he continued. “Rather more likely keeping an eye on us, for now. Reporting back to their masters, no doubt.”

Rats. So many fucking rats. Had she blinked she may have missed it. But she saw their eyes, how they ran. She saw how they stalked the party, and assumed that they would have to fight through them to get out of this. She shivered thinking about how many there were. She saw dozens before they ran off once visible to the torch light. Were they surrounded that densely? Were there hundreds? Fucking hell... They were running out of time. And running out fast. "We need to keep moving." Mallard thankfully opened the door quickly. Weapons in hand, Kathryn distributed them on her person like she would normally. Seeing how the axe had fared, she was impressed with how it had been handled. "Mallard, you surely know how to treat a woman. Tell yer wife she's a rather lucky gal." Kathryn said with a smile. She'd get herself a new shaft for the axe when this was all over.

They were kicked out fast once they all got their gear. Kathryn understood. They were on a short time table and likely would not get back before the sun set. It would be close. It would be so fucking close. But they were almost done. They were so close. "Thank you Mallard. Take care of yourself tonight. And we'll be seeing more of you soon don't ya worry." Kathryn said with a smile as she fashioned her helmet on. Kathryn tried to listen in on what Kosara was saying about the lights. But a lot of it didn't register as Kathryn got her kit as sorted out as she could. She did get some of what Kosara said about torches. Lighting up another for herself, she lit one for Kosara as well. "Here ya go, now let's get things wrapped up." She offered the torch to Kosara, though if she didn't take it she would put it out and save it for later. She wasn't struggling for them, but she didn't want to waste them either.

Kathryn began to book it. Her long legs taking heavy strides as her armor clanked and banged. She needed to get there in time. She needed to keep as many people safe as she could. Kathryn was glad to hear the rats didn't seem like they wanted to attack, it made her feel like she could get away with this a lot easier. She booked it as fast as her legs could carry her to the bed and breakfast. She was determined to protect the L'Rose's before the sun set. She was determined to keep them safe.

Even more light. Yes, Victoria understood that not everyone was going to be able to see the same way that she did when visible light went away, but she was giving serious wonder as to why an illumination cantrip, multiple torches, and a magical hammer with the ability to shed silvery-white moonlight when held aloft was necessary all at once. She couldn't see any better with all of this light than without it either, thanks to the dense fog. So it was a rather surreal experience for her to stand within a brightly lit area, surrounded by puffy, white fog, which in turn was surrounded by darkness. Actual darkness, which in this situation of contrasting brightness, Victoria's eyes could not pierce. She was in a semisphere of brilliance surrounded by a horde of rats.

The thought that the light might be helping to keep the rats at bay didn't immediately come to her, either. It was another in a series of annoyances from this evening, tempered by a sense of purpose that she did not ordinarily possess. Maybe that purpose was because she saw something in the Human girl, Lizbeth, and wanted to help keep her safe. This feeling aside, when the thought did occur to her that the light provided service aside from helping the night-blind, she gripped the hilt of her slim sword a little tighter, unsure as to whether she specifically wished to get into a stabbing match with a swarm of pissed-off rodents.

The Bard cocked her head to the side at the Dragonborn's words, giving them consideration. Sarcasm was rarely out of place in times like this, in her opinion, and she had to give a nod of appreciation. Somewhere, there was a God or Goddess whose portfolio included sarcasm as a sacred act. While the identity of such a deity did not immediately come to Victoria's mind, she was sure this unknown power would look favorably upon the moment.

Victoria found her footsteps hurrying to follow Kathryn as she moved down the thoroughfare. So long as she was caught in the middle of a huge ball of light, she might as well be in the immediate vicinity of someone tromping about in heavy, clanking metal armor, too. It completed the whole motif she had going on with being as noticed as possible. (And if the God of Sarcasm could read her thoughts, they would be truly blessed, indeed.) But in fairness, speed was becoming more of the essence of their task then subtlety, so it made sense. Plus! if anything bad happened, she would be standing behind the large, physically powerful woman with the big, magic hammer. This also made sense. To the Bed & Breakfast it was, then, to collect their allies and spirit them away to what safety could be provided to them.

It was obvious something was up as soon as the fog became a factor. They had also been warned earlier that even mundane rodents were untrustworthy. However, it was an entirely different matter when one could see for oneself just what kind of challenges they were dealing with. Marita's heart leapt up into her throat at the sight of all those eyes. Blood stopped cold in her veins before quickening to the pace of a river's rapids. It was only after it became apparent that the rodents weren't interested in attacking them yet that she allowed herself to let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding in.

Marita took the mace and even in the poor viewing conditions of the situation was taken aback by the craftsmanship of her previous rather basic weapon. The few seconds she spent appreciating Mallard's work was just long enough that he shut the door before she was able to return his dagger to him. It bothered her more than it should that she hadn't fulfilled her end of the bargain, but not holding up her word, even in a minor circumstance went against the path. She resolved to return it first thing in the morning, assuming that they would be able to make it through the night. Given the current situation, the cleric decided it would be wisest to keep the mace in hand in the extremely likely case that she would need use of it in the next few minutes.

"It would be a poor idea to return to camp now." Marita observed, upping her pace to just below a job to keep up with the much taller Kathryn. She tried to choose her words carefully to avoid giving away more information than necessary just in case their observers had a greater capacity for language than expected. It was difficult to do so between the increase in exertion and her mental state. "The primary advantage it had is that as far as we knew, apart from a select group of people it was an unknown location. Knowing what we know now, if we went straight back it would compromise what safety it offered. If we want to go back, we'd have to make sure that we didn't have any uninvited company." Furthermore, there was nothing to indicate that even if they were able to escape the numerous eyes of the rats they'd spotted minutes prior that they wouldn't be found by yet more rodents in the Hayloft. Such buildings were not known for their resilience against pests. Unfortunately, it appeared that for the rest of the night they would have to improvise and pray for the best to make it through. At least they were better equipped to protect themselves now.

Weather: It is cold. Not freezing yet, but cold in an unseasonable fashion, as was the previous evening. The fog had a constant presence, thick and lingering, but at least it wasn't raining. Wind is low, calm even after the earlier downpour.

Time: Dusk is upon you. Cue the music.

Ambience: A full and heavy moon hangs in a sky that has now officially darkened. It is the not only the brightest, but the only light that one can readily make out thanks to the oppressive, ground-based cloud cover. The tension in the air around one thickens in ways that even the dense fog cannot fathom. The sounds of water dripping from places on high to the ground were no longer present, but if one were to listen carefully one might catch the faint sounds of water being whisked away by the thoroughfare's drainage system. If one were to listen even more carefully, they might just pick out the random sloshings of rodents within what standing puddles remained, desire to avoid the frigid water making their movements more frantic.

These pieces of proximal ambience aside, a sense of painful stillness permeated the Township. Considering the bustle of the festival from just a matter or hours ago, one knows full well that the settlement is populated. Everyone seemed to be instinctively hiding from the unknown, or at least uncertain danger among them.

The scent of porkfat and tangy wood was still carried upon the air.






The steps in the direction of the Bed & Breakfast, be they taken lightly and with care or the stomping recklessness of a drunken neckbeard, were fully unimpeded. No force moved to stop, nor even delay, as the group moved steadily along the road; a very short walk from the Silversmith's place to where their first allies in Avonshire was quartered for the Harvestide Festival, within a stone's throw of the centermost river bridge if the fog would have allowed. Visions of massing rodents remained unseen, but not fully undetected. Their original gambit of staying just out of sight at all times (unless set upon by a flung source of light) was reestablished, but one could still hear the same shuffling noises if they knew what to listen for.

Coming up to the door of the B&B, the sound of rats lessens into the distance. A truer quiet settles upon the area, as it did when the party neared Jacques Mallard's place of business. The building itself boasted a green roof and door, with a sign indicating its purpose. A detachable addition also proclaimed a lack of vacancy. Yes, this was the place. Not much of a surprise, but there was a lack of bright light coming from within. Windows were closed and curtains drawn, shutters latched as applicable. From this close proximity, one could see a small source of light from behind a curtain, possibly a lit candle or something similar, judging only by its illumination through a thicker cloth.

At that moment, a scream cut through the night air. It was feminine and blood-curdling, ending with a choked, reflexive sob. While difficult to say precisely from where it issued, one can tell that it likely came from farther up the roadway, possibly even on the other side of the river. In the stunned seconds after the scream, the door to the Bed & Breakfast creaked open. "Can you help me, please?" came a voice, its source still obscured by the fine, wooden portal, though light did spill from behind it. The voice was familiar to most of the party, if colored, likely by emotion. It was Lizbeth L'Rose, though her face was only partially visible from behind the door. "Aunt Cecily isn't here. She left a note, but I think something is wrong." Her voice trembled as she spoke.

Another scream split the foggy night, this one joined quickly by a second - both from a different direction than the initial outburst. These two sounded like they came from somewhere north of their location. The cracked door of the Bed & Breakfast pulled shut for a moment, before opening just a little bit once more.

"Won't you please help?"

The lights helped. But Kathryn was on edge. She could hear the rustling around her as she booked it. She could feel every dent and chip in her armor as she ran. She had scrubbed off the rust and patched it up so many times she had them committed to memory. She was scared, though she still had her wits. As it got darker though, she was worried they were out of time. She took note of Victoria and Marita following close behind. She'd take care to protect Victoria and the rest of the party this time. She had skills that fit a mercenary party well, but an adventuring party her main role was to protect the others for them to handle their tasks. And she was determined to physically crush any poor bastard that wanted to challenge her on this. Cavendish especially. Time after time he gave the weasel a chance to back off. A chance to end things before they escalated. He had mocked her about her heritage, her want to end things peacefully, so he'd get his wish next time they crossed blades. And she would flatten him until his broken body could be dragged to a cell, or he died whatever glorious death he deemed most worthy a man his station. And Kathryn would oblige.

What Marita brought up about the Hayloft was concerning. It was too late to sneak back there quietly. Far too late. "We should consider ways to get back without followers then. We also need to check in on Lea." Kathryn said when she had finally stopped at the door. Now she could talk quietly without having to speak over her own steps. "Should we hold out with her then? The building may be stronger, and it has the space." She wanted to say places with kitchens had better standards for keeping rodents out, but her travels with Ser Lucas brought to her attention that many kitchen outside of castles had standards that varied so widely, that there was little rule of thumb there. She'd just have to hope this kitchen was well kept. "We'll always have our camp later to fall back on." The public house didn't have the advantage of being unknown. But it was a bigger building that seemed pretty well defensible. Their options were rapidly running out. And that concerned Kathryn. They took too long, and things were getting worse. It was getting darker.

Then what concerned Kathryn, was just how quiet it had gotten. Were they gone? The rats? No, they had to be there. They had just backed off again. The bed and breakfast was quiet. It was dark, and looked nearly abandoned. What in the many gods was going on here? Did everyone up and leave? Kathryn set her torch on the ground on the stone so that it wouldn't catch anything, and approached. Her hammer lighting up the ways a bit, and her shield still strapped to her arm. She knocked on the door with force, though a small fraction of the force she used on Mallard's door. She didn't want to spook anyone inside and risk getting locked out. She took a look around while she waited for a response. It was getting darker. Then the screaming began. A scream that sounded like it belonged to someone who was about to experience death. They were out of time. The victim was close. Kathryn reflexively prepared a defensive position when the door opened, and relaxed to see Lizbeth. Where was Cecily?! The owner?! Anyone other adult who was supposed to be here?! "Lizbeth? Are you here alone?" Kathryn went to her knees and took off her helmet to listen to this poor girl. Cecily was gone. And left a note that was now the only clue they had to helping this poor girl.

More screaming. Followed by another. They were out of time. They had to get moving. But Kathryn couldn't push herself to rush this girl. She was scared, and alone. "Lizbeth, things are going to be okay. We came to help, and that's what we intend to do. But we need your help okay sweetie?" Kathryn got back onto her feet, her helmet wedged between her shield arm and her torso. Kathryn attempted to step in slowly, trying to not frighten the poor girl anymore. Stepping inside, she saw the note, and the source of the only light in the building. The place seemed truly empty and abandoned shy of this small child. Her wide eyes watched as Kathryn stepped in. Kathryn still taking the extra moment to not bump her head into the doorway as she stepped. Thankfully, that wasn't an issue.

Kathryn knelt down, trying to suppress her own fears and concerns for the situation. Kathryn would keep her safe, that she was determined. Even more so than neutralizing Cavendish. "We're going to keep you save Lizbeth. And we're going to help however we can. May we please see the note? It'll be a great help." Kathryn held out her gloved hand, a warm smile on her face, despite the fear and dread in her system telling her to wrap her arms around this girl as run as fast as her legs could take her. She figured she may end up having to do that anyways. They were out of time.

“Yay, fire! Thank you!” Kosara cheerfully blew out the lil candle she had just lit up, stuffing it away and grabbing the torch from Kathryn instead. She now had the ‘Flaming Club of Destiny’. Or maybe a flaming cudgel would be a better title… In any case, with a nice lit torch of burning wrath in hand, Kosara was happily looking around. They now had lights and lights were good given the situation. Mists weren’t making anything easy or nice, but on the upturn they had something to combat the mists and darkness with. Then out of nowhere, the white tiefling had a revelation… Her eyes focused on the torch in her hand, knowledge raced through her mind, memories that sometimes she remembered and other times forgot, a quick whispered words of power and a Thaurmaturgical minor wonder was brought into existence, quickly followed by a second one as the flames dancing upon her torch shifted into hues of gold and grew brighter. And just like this she now had the Advanced Flaming Club of Destiny.” Let’s go!” The dancer was very happy with her better torch and planned to maintain it for the time being.

As they got closer to the B&B there was a loud scream that filled the air from afar. Kosara couldn’t exactly say how far and from where, partially because of the fog and how it carried the noise. In any case it was probably from somewhere around town. Kosara nearly jumped out of her skin when it happened and looked frantically around for a bit, but eyes narrowed and growled, peering at the mists, promising lot’s of dead rats later. Maybe they should bring in cats to hunt all the rats later. Yeah that was an idea, though kicking some wererats butts was also a good thing to do! When Lizbeth opened the door a bit and gave the news that Cecily was not present, something heavy settled into the pit at Kosara’s stomach. THAT was not a good news, in fact it was very bad news.

Kathryn was as expected the big reassuring (half) giant that apparently made the girl feel just reassured enough to allow the door to open and for the warrior to enter. Kosara nodded and gave a bit of a reassuring smile from the doorway as she turned around, peering into the misty darkness around them, trying to see if there were any dangers and to just be ready in case something does try to jump out of it. She had a mighty stick of fiery destiny to whack it with! That or a Celestial Blast. If Kosara was to be honest, she couldn't wait for the moment where she had an actual target to attack. Evil was surely lurking, they just had to find it... or it had to show itself really. Kahtryn was NOT saving any of em this time around. Ratmen were going be deadmen... them and anybody else who was in on the evil.

"Yeah. Poor idea," sighed Victoria. The fact was that all of her stuff was still there, tucked away in a backpack and a chest, both neatly stacked in a charming little errand cart which was ordinarily pulled by her formerly dead porcine companion. Also, lots and lots of local wine. Their little hideaway was not remotely the sort of accommodations that she preferred, but it was warm, comfortable, and had an elevated position where they could rest with a touch more discretion. But so mach as Victoria did not want to give too much in the way of agreement with the Cleric, a grudging acceptance of Marita's assessment. If the rats were spying for the bad guys, letting them see her return to all of her goodies in their safe(?) little loft was not the best of ideas. Even though Victoria agreed, she absolutely did not have to like it. "On the other hand, in a pinch I don't strictly have to be seen..." She flashed a quick but prideful smile. "...as tragic as such a thing is. Though it will limit my versatility of spellcraft later in the evening."

The second option, that being a wholesale slaughter of as many rats as possible, was also interesting. Victoria wondered how many rats constituted a "swarm", for the purposes of re-animation with tiny wisps of necrotic energy. She would have to let go of the husk that was Morty, a tough, smoky creature that served her well (at least for a while yet), and the tradeoff would be something less defensive and utilitarian. Thought provoking in the potential use of the creatures' corpses. Responsible even, given the neutral Necromancer's unofficial credo:



Jovial a thought as it was, it did very little to keep Victoria's spirits up when the first scream sounded. Things were happening elsewhere in town; expected things, and not too far away. Her ability to detach from this was put to the test, owing to a couple of key points, which included that she was somewhat familiar with a few of the people in this town. Many were okay folks and she didn't wish any harm upon them. It sounded very much like harm was being visited upon someone, however. Victoria internally applauded the pragmatism of the group in what seemed like an unspoken collective decision to not go running off, instead sticking to the task at hand to assist their friends and allies. Luckily, one such ally had just revealed herself in the doorway of the Bed & Breakfast.

Instinctively, Victoria noticed that something was off about Lizbeth. She seemed different or disconnected somehow. But Kathryn seemed to be making connection with her, so the Bard did not attempt to interfere. She was a little jealous actually, as she thought she might have some sort of greater understanding of the young girl, but this passed. Training her senses upon the surroundings as she entered the building, V held a breath and pressed her hat to the side of her head, as if to amplify her ability to hear more clearly. Maybe it was useful and maybe it was not, but it served to demonstrate what she was doing and, with her very uninteresting abilities of perception, every little bit was going to help. In this instance, she picked up something, but her announcement was interrupted by hearing more screams outside somewhere. Finally, she pointed up to the ceiling, pointing out a small amount of movement as the ceiling let it be known in the quiet voice of well-structured carpentry that something was standing upon it.

"The guests are upstairs?" she whispered in almost imperceptible volume. Lizbeth responded with a silent nod in Victoria's direction. Guests were here, but Aunt CeeCee was gone. How many did that make that were missing, that they personally knew? The question did not rest easy in Victoria's thoughts.

Blackberry followed after the group without stopping. He no longer needed, or wanted, to guess that the noises he still heard surrounding them belonged to the rats scuttling outside the party’s zone of light.

Marita confirmed what he had feared; the ‘Camp’ was now completely out of the question.

“Then just where could we go?” He moved alongside Marita and matched her strides. “Wandering the streets all night is hardly a sound idea, even without our…audience. I worry a decision may be made for us before too long.”

The scream splintered the nigh. BlackBerry nearly jumped out of his scales, the unease churning in his stomach boiled into a moment of panic. His gaze snapped towards it, somewhere further down the road and out of sight. He took a few steps forward, past the sliver o flight coming from the openening door, and past the party before he checked himself just at the edge of the party’s circle of light. He wanted to help. His fingers began tap, tap, tapping upon the hilt of his sword betraying the churning anxiety he was trying to hide. Two other scream quickly went up from another direction, he couldn’t pinpoint it even as he turned his head this way and that.

Kathryn slipped into the building, pushing past the child that had opened it. From what he had overheard the child was possibly all alone at the moment. He pushed down the flabbergasted anger that rose in him; someone had left the poor child alone on a night like this? In a town filled with were-rats? Whomever her guardian was had better have a bloody good reason for wandering off. Through the open door he could hear Kathryn trying to console the child. She sounded young, and it made his heart twist at the thought of her all alone, in a place like this.

Following the example of the others, he slipped into the building, and let out a breath at the relief now being awayy from their unwanted audience. At least for now.

“Guests?” He had caught the Victoria's comment just as he came in. “Guests as in…” He gestured with his chin towards the door, hoping she understood what he left unsaid.

Guests like our audience outside?

Marita remained silent after bringing up that it wasn't in their best interest to return to the Hayloft tonight. She didn't like it either, all her stuff was there as well, but if it came down to her or her belongings, she wasn't carrying anything valuable enough to make the latter a tempting proposition. She also didn't like the idea of not being able to stay in one place and at least attempt to get some rest, but as it was, staying mobile might be their best choice for making it through the night. Normally she'd communicate these things, but there were reasons she kept her mouth shut.

There was potential threat lurking in the fog. Not only were the rats keeping out of sight and tracking their every move, the no doubt roaming lycanthropes and who knows what else could come after them at any moment. With their senses cut off as it was by the fog, one had to maintain utmost concentration to detect any interlopers. However, that was not why she was silent. Nor was the seeping dread that saturated the air. No, it was the sense of unsettling nostalgia this situation brought with it. The cleric didn't know exactly why she felt that way at first, but it bothered her so much that's what the bulk of her thoughts were. It wasn't until the first screamed pierced the fog that it all clicked into place.

A series of sensations flashed through her mind. A dark, cramped place. The cries of friends and family. Fear. Warm blood. Remorse. The particulars of the situation were different, but it was a dead ringer for the worst day of Marita's life, when she had to flee her childhood home. It then occurred to her that she was standing outside of the Bed and Breakfast already. Kathryn was speaking to Lizbeth and she was gripping her mace so tightly it her forearm hurt. It had been her idea to try to simply hide out and make it through the night, but now she wasn't sure if she could go through that again. Nor was she inclined to make anyone have to go through what she did. She blinked a couple more times to try to clear up her head. Where had that scream come from? Up North? What was North? The market or Municipal building most likely. Depending on how things went it could be in the cards to reroute to those areas. They weren't going to be passive actors this night if she could help it.

Weather: It has passed cool and gone to cold, but not yet freezing. Low to still wind, and fog remains the bulk of what one sees at any distance.

Time: It is the beginning of nighttime. The sun is officially down, the moon is officially full, and the screams have officially started. Officially.

Ambience: The exterior of the building stood as a cold mockery of a place where one might go for a short vacation or temporary lodging, no doubt heightened by the growing discomfort of the evening. The trailing festival decorations and stacks of colorful gourds lend a more eerie feel to the structure, rather like the atmosphere of an abandoned carnival at midnight. The moon floats quietly overhead, visible through the fog if nothing else was. The sound of rats just beyond visible distance is quieter here, further away, as if the swarms of tiny animals did not wish to approach.




The interior of the Bed & Breakfast is quiet, but not oppressively so. The only source of light on the ground floor is that of Lizbeth's candle, or was until those from the party entered the building with their various points of illumination. The ground floor was open and almost sterile in appearance, as if taken to by a meticulous housekeeper. Stone and tile surfaces clean, wood polished, everything arranged in particular order. A lounge area toward the front of the room boasts well constructed (if a bit rustic) furniture, and the table settings on the other side of the room are near to immaculate.

Lizbeth herself looked much like a lost child at a county fair. She glanced about uncertainly, looking from person to person who had just entered as if to receive an answer to an unasked question. The note in her hand was slightly crumpled, having been held tightly by the young girl since its discovery. When Kathryn asked for it, Lizbeth nodded her head slowly and shakily held out the note for her to inspect. It was short and very pointed, written with a bold hand and in large, blocky letters:



Tears formed in Lizbeth's eyes, silently trailing down her cheeks. She might not have known exactly what was going on, but deep inside she had an approximate idea and her sense of denial was faltering fast.

Kathryn looked at the note, even more confused when seeing it. No wonder the poor girl was terrified. She knew so little, and so much was happening so fast. Kathryn wanted desperately to help her out though. "Do you know where she may have gone? We may be able to find her before she returns?" Kathryn said optimistically. Hoping that would help reassure the poor girl everything would be alright. "I don't know," responded Lizbeth, her voice whispering a childlike lamentation. "Aunt Ceecee and I were the first to come down for supper. I left to go wash up like she told me to. When I got back, she was gone." The girl sniffled a bit as tears welled up in her eyes, "The front door was open and this was at her place setting." Lizbeth pointed to the dining table and the door in turn, confusion and sorrow playing heavily on her face. The response wasn't the game changer she hoped it was. Kathryn worried Cecily could have been taken by force, had legitimate concerns and left in a hurry, or could have been one of those turned already.

Kathryn wished she knew how to make Lizbeth feel safe. She was isolated and alone. Scared and unsure of everything going on around her. She wanted so badly to embrace the poor girl in a hug. Let her know she was safe. But there was that little voice in the back of her head telling her she wasn't safe. Physical contact with anyone could always turn into letting her guard down, her not being ready if someone tries to hurt her, make her vulnerable to ill intentions. The screams off in the distance only made that voice in the back of her head worse. She imagined what Lizbeth was going through right now was very comparable to how she felt when her home was destroyed. The sounds of those unfortunate enough to have been found being cut down, every person who was supposed to be there for you now being dead or gone, and your best hope being some strangers who you barely know. Kathryn gave at that point, remembering how scared she was more than a dozen years ago. How scared and alone she felt, she figured Lizbeth was in much the same boat. Silencing the voice in the back of her mind Kathryn took the shield off her arm and began to hold her arms out. Hesitating at first, she reached out again and embraced Lizbeth in a firm and safe hug, though still soft enough to not hurt her or crush her under all the steel. "It's going to be okay darling. Everything is going to be okay." Despite everything working against her, the hug was gentle and protective.

Without breaking the protective hug, Kathryn turned ever so slightly to the rest of the party and mouthed "What do we do?" She wanted to go out and find Cecily, but they were out of time. They could hold up there, but that may leave Lea unprotected, and they knew nothing about this place. It seemed no more secure than anywhere else they had been so far. Maybe less so. And for sure, the rats would have watched them enter. The loft or the public house they may be able to make distance first. But they were stuck between a rock and a hard place, and Kathryn found herself split on how to handle the situation at hand.

Alright, all things being equal and honest, Kosara was feeling rather unusually off with this place and situation. It was so different from anything she had experienced in her life so far and it showed. Well most things were different from what she knew, being this far from home, but still. Ever since she left the desert, this was the first time she really wished to have Grandpa’s advice, but he was NOT here. He was far, far away and she had no way of reaching him on the moment, unless he decides to reach out first. Back home it was easy, she’d just run to his place in the desert, or ride a camel or even get somebody to bring her over, but here? Yeah she was far from home and while not alone, the white tiefling was away from all sources of advice she usually relied on.

Thus she was out of the B&B, unsure how to proceed as she stared daggers into the fog and the moon that actually resembled cheese if she was thinking about it really hard, but focus on the fog and the dastardly evil critters that may or may not be lurking, she really wanted to set something aflame. This wouldn’t ever happen in the desert! There was not enough water for fog there! After a bit more of a time of glaring into the fog as of daring anything to try to come over and have a taste of her fancy golden rays of doom and retribution, she huffed, puffed, pouted and walked into the B&B, putting out the torch with a flicker of movement for the cantrips she had cast on it prior. A quick Prestidigitation and the fire was out, the Thaumaturgy going away as soon as the fire was no more to affect.

She made it inside just in time to hear the confession of horror from the young woman that they had befriended and the fact that their older friend was gone under some frankly suspicious circumstances. Alright that was not a good thing, not good at all, Cecily was gone and if something evil wasn’t the cause, Kosara was going to eat a regular sandwich! Her eyes glided across the place, resting on the door as she eyed it like a hawk, before turning her gaze to Kathryn and then looking over at each of the group she had found herself with. She quickly pondered what would her grandpa do in this case and what he would advice her to do. He himself would probably just charge off to confront craven Cavendish, his cronies and whatever it is that gives him power. He’d probably advice her to be careful and not put herself in needless danger, but in the end he’d agree that helping people was more important and doubly so people you consider friends. No friend left behind.

“Hmmm… I say we go get some answers from the one person we know has them.” She finally stated and stretched her limbs for a moment.” I say enough is enough and maybe we should go with the alter plan we talked about to go and have a bit of a meeting, doubly so since invitations has been… forced upon us. If I don't do something about this, Grandpa would be disappointed in me, I can't have that.”

"What?" asked Victoria, suddenly switching from her more emotive, serious nature to stare at their Dragonborn companion. She hoped that the fellow was a "cross the I's, dot the T's" kind of person and that this was an attempt to confirm what was something near to obvious - the practice of a cautious man in a fairly unfamiliar group of associates - and not a legitimately serious question from someone who honestly suspected that the upstairs was packed full of rats or wererats, with a little girl in the main room aware of, but indifferent to, their presence. "No, the... this is a lodging house," cautiously explained Victoria. "The place was flush with guests for the festival. I think all of the guests were Humans." It was a safe enough assumption. Or might have been, were there not a pressing issue of unknown persons throughout town being transformed into vicious, conniving myanthropes. That in mind, it might have actually been a fair and pressing question.

Kathryn seemed to be doing an effective enough job of making sure that little Lizbeth had some emotional support. This was usually her sphere of influence, owing to occupation, but so long as she felt safe and looked after Victoria would suppress her instinct to comfort. The gesture did give her an angle to see what was on the note. The script written upon it looked bold and blocky, not at all what she might have assumed came from a more delicate looking woman like Cecily. Though this was most certainly not her forte, mulling the possibilities over did brig her to another interesting thought: "Lea. She carried a note of her own when she informed us of Daisy's absence." Victoria let the statement hang there. "We have to do something before this gets worse." She looked over to Lizbeth. Memories of the previous evening came back unbidden, of her uncertain emotional state after having been through a lot the previous days. And of course, the little trick that she quietly performed that others has missed. Lizbeth seemed to have a strength about her that gave Victoria a touch of hope.

They could not take Lizbeth with them if they were stepping into a fight. Nor could they leave one of their number with her and stay at full force. And it seemed that, barring something being done, bringing her to their "camp" wasn't the best idea either. Was leaving her in this place tantamount to willful neglect of a child in need? Ordinarily, Victoria could detach from all of this and go about her merry, but for whatever reason Victoria was taking this child's interests personally. Quietly, the Bard suggested, "Maybe she should lock herself away in her room and hide, until we take care of this? Perhaps give her some silver, just in case?" Barring getting her back to their hidey-hole, which she might find preferable. Just then, Victoria wished she had a song or a snippet of spellwork that could explode many, many rats all at once. That would be a sight to behold.

Victoria’s answer gave him some relief and BlackBerry visibly relaxed a little in the shoulders; wandering into a lodging house filled with rodent-thropes or were-rats or whatever was the last thing they needed tonight. Granted it was one of many things they didn’t need tonight.

But it was the conversation drifting over from Kathryn and child, Lizbeth, that held his attention. Casting rapid glances at the others he could see they were connecting a few dots, a few pieces of the puzzle as well. The picture it was painting was not a good one, he chewed his cheek with worry. Were-rats becoming more active, people going missing, screams echoing around the town, and a hoard of rats following them. A worrying fear that they had all just put a big target on this place and everyone in it suddenly came to mind.

“I think that would be the best idea.” Whispering a reply to Victoria. He turned round to cast an eye at the door almost expecting it to be broken open right that second. “If you have any spare silver or any weapon at all to give her. Let us take a moment to reassure her though.”

BlackBerry stepped forwards gently towards Kathryn and Lizbeth, hoping he wouldn’t scare the poor child any further. He had to keep calm, or at least keep an air of calm about him in case Lizbeth picked up on the worry and fear currently ruling his thoughts. The best thing to do, in his mind, was to find something to keep her occupied and safe inside for a while. Or at the very least away from their following conversation. Maybe he could ask her to check on the other guests?

“Hello there, Lizbeth? My Name is BlackBerry. I must say it does sound like you have had a scary evening. Were you scared?” BlackBerry asked, looking to watch how Lizbeth reacted and figure out the best way to keep her calm. He continued, in a stage whisper like it were a big secret he was about to say. “You can tell me, I shan’t tell anyone If you were.”

“But.” He raised a finger to emphasise his next very important point. “You did the right thing keeping the door closed until someone you knew came along.” He gestured to Lady Kathryn, and then back to the other party members who had entered. “And I bet your guests would think so too. In fact, I wonder if they might be a little bit scared. Perhaps you could check on them and make sure they are doing alright as well, in a bit?”

A thought came to him in that moment. He paused for a moment and tapped his finger tips with his thumb as he wondered whether he should ask his next question, knowing it could cause the poor girl even more worry if he didn’t smooth out the thought fast enough.

“The note your Aunt left…does it appear to be her hand writing?” He tried to keep his voice calm, make the question sound innocent with a small smile, as if the answer wouldn’t hold a terrifying thought. Hurriedly, he lay down a little lie for the girl to hide in “Or perhaps one of her friends wrote it for her when they came to fetch her?”