Sigil

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Victoria Belmont Half-Elf, Bard, Level 3 HP: 23 / 23 Armor Class: 15 Conditions: N/A Location: Neil & Bob's Public House -> Brindleton's Woodworking Action: Investigation Bonus Action: Morty Reaction: N/A

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Before exiting Neil & Bob's, Victoria made it a point to walk over to Marita and quietly intone that the two of them would be headed in the direction of their new associate's friend's business. "The missing fellow he spoke about last night - Brindleton? We're going to investigate there before the Dressmaker's shop opens." She took care to speak barely above that which was necessary to clearly hear from a distance close to the Cleric's ear. Sparing a wink and a shy smile in Lea's direction, Victoria departed. Morty dutifully followed behind, as only her loyal, animated stew ingredient might.

Seeing as the area directly west of Neil & Bob's was the Farmers' Market, and they had toured that area of town already without seeing signs of a carpenter's full work area, it made sense that their journey would take then to a spot they hadn't been to, the northwest quarter of town. To attempt expedience, the Bard utilized the main roads; first north, then a solid left at the big fountain in the town center. It soon became apparent that their presence was gathering attention. Victoria hoped it didn't have too much to do with the display she put on the last night.

Victoria was no stranger to people's whispers and stares. It was pretty much to be taken for granted, though it was interesting to note that many of the same ones who spoke about her in hushed tones, and from afar, would smile longingly at her and engage in some of the most saccharin conversation to her face. Man, woman, or indeterminate middle, it seemed to make no difference. People were duplicitous. Much of this could be shaken off, as from Victoria's experience this was the way of the world, but there was one thing she noticed above the others that morning, which gave her a small shot of adrenaline: A local talking to a guard and pointing in her direction. That stopped the horse in its tracks, so to speak. Not for the Bard herself, though. She was ever the entertainer, recognizing that this was not her cue to cease walking nor make a scene. Practiced nonchalance forced concerns of harassment by the constabulary from reaching her face and she carried on, her and Morty both. It was easier for Morty, being a mindless animation wrapped in utility cloth.

Whatever luck could be had from the situation visited them, as no pursuit was apparent. The walk to the workshop was not eventful, despite her little scare. In contrast to the main streets, there was very little foot traffic here. Victoria hoped that this would be a help, as opposed to a hindrance. A lack of people usually was, to her experience, unless she was in the middle of more professional, musical pursuits. That was not the order of the hour, so, less attention was better.

Victoria was genuinely surprised to see that the door stood unlocked. She spared a glance in Rickard's direction as if to ask him a question, but verbalized nothing. Entry to the location was a foregone conclusion if they were to pursue an investigation, so with a hand on her sword hilt and a song in her heart (as potentially dangerous a proposition as an archer notching an arrow), Victoria entered.

Her inquisitive eyes adjusted to the differing light conditions and she peered around, taking note of the furniture and tools here. Different styles of furniture were present, one which looked a little more familiar to her than the local goods. She noted the short stairway, and the overlooking walk. Victoria noticed a great many things during her initial walkaround, most of which she kept to herself for the moment. She did bring one fact she had gleaned from the building's interior, "This place... It looks like someone tried to clean it up recently. Badly." Sure enough, there were recent sweeping marks in the work area and the floor around it, marred dust of the regular and saw varieties, and things put away put not quite with perfect placement. "This looks like a petulant child was told to clean his room, and intentionally did a poor job to end the task quickly." What this element meant, if anything at all, could not be sussed out immediately by Victoria.

And Morty ...just kind of stood there.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@Dragoknighte@rivaan@Remipa Awesome@Sigil@Lurking Krog

And now, the game's afoot! Or a-hand. Or a-whatever. Anyway, update is posted.

Regardless of which part of one's anatomy this game is, it's progressing. As it sits, the group is divided into three sections, with Kosara and Kat at or near the Silversmith's, Victoria and Rickard re-inspecting the Woodworker's, and Marita addressing existing leads at Neil & Bob's Public House with new questions to suss out any meaning or connections. There can potentially be information gathered by all three courses of action, depending upon courses of action and the luck of the occasional die roll.

I must admit a sense of personal curiosity as to what the characters will get into. And if it helps matters any, I have been lacing previous updates with clues. And red herrings. As per usual, if you have any questions or wish to put a roll in, please send me a private message in Discord and I will get to you as soon as work and life allows.

Thank you ever so much, and let the festivities commence.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Weather: Partly cloudy, wind picking up a little. a chill still lingering in the air. The temperature is not described as "comfortable" by most. It would be charitable to say that it is brisk; coupled with the ambient moisture things would go a lot easier for folks wearing a decent jacket. In any case, it is much more tolerable than it was the previous night.

Time: Morning! People are being a tad more active now.

Ambience: The sun hangs a little brighter now, banishing most of the fog from the previous number of hours. It exists almost exclusively as a vague whiteness in the background. Folks are stirring, and not just the earliest of risers anymore. Be it that there might very well be a number of persons nursing hangovers of various depths and qualities, most of those being out-of-towners, there are a reasonable numbers of locals who are seeing to their own needs before opening their shops and other businesses to the public. People who live in town and work in the may surrounding farms have pretty much cleared out, as it would be with every notable settlement in an agricultural region. A wind cut in from the west, bearing with it the scent of smoke and roasting pork. It seemed that the gentlefolk who are competing for best hog-broil are still at it, and have yet to let up on their extremely slow but steady cooking techniques.

Neil & Bob's Public House

Lea and Marita involved themselves in a short conversation. This was overheard by Robert, still at the bar and still trying hard to be left to his own business. The proprietor turned his head just enough to get a view of Lea and the work she had accomplished so far, and satisfied that his employee was adequately keeping up with her duties regardless of conversation, turned back around. His breakfast is finished, bowl sitting empty in front of him. His ale now takes his attention.

In contrast to many places which might be getting more business, The Public House is actually losing walk-in business. They didn't have but a few in there to begin with, and now there are only two tables with two people each, not including the soon to be vacated table at which Ricard and Victoria are seated. None of those present appear to need anything from Lea or from behind the bar, having been taken care of just earlier. This might be subject to change soon, as the relative quiet of the taproom is marred by movement from in the common sleeping room. People are starting to wake up, and they will want things.

About the same time, the scent of freshly brewed tea issued from the kitchen area, mingled with another batch of bread. Daisy is keeping herself busy, obviously, and has decent anticipation of the coming rush of people, however minor it might be. Sure enough, the common room door swung slowly open to admit a single, hungover gentleman with a zombie-like gait. He squints at the difference in brightness, shielding his eyes for a moment before a sudden sensory indication had him tearing out of the door nearest the exterior privy. More promised to enter the room shortly.

Brindleton's Woodworking

The walk to the woodworking shop was not so bad. It wasn't a very large town after all, even though their destination was in the northwest quadrant, opposite of Neil & Bob's. As with Kosara and Kathryn, there are townsfolk who stop and give a stare in the direction of the Elf and Half-Elf, rare enough sights in these parts, as they pass by. One fellow said nothing, but gave a long, concentrated look as he emptied a bucket of something-or-other into one of the regular openings to the Township's storm drains.

One couple was obvious in action, moving to put themselves between their young child and the two adventurers. The presence of the walking feast centerpiece that was Morty probably didn't help matters any. It surely didn't help when an older lady carrying a basket stopped to have a short conversation with one of the few town guards under the Constable's employ, pointing in their general direction somewhere in the middle of it. But in the end, no one approached Rickard and Victoria directly. The moment was left with questions, whispers, and bits of rumor circulating rather than anything of substance.

Approaching the woodworker's shop, things were a little quieter. The owner must have expected to make a fair amount of noise on occasion while plying his craft, and so the building selected for their purposes was a bit back from the main thoroughfare, nearer to the wall. The building itself is constructed of stone, for the most part, and from the outside has the appearance of a warehouse with a small barn attached to it. There is an entrance at the "barn", as well as larger, cargo styled doors toward the front of the warehouse section.

The door, unlocked, opens without so much as single creaking protest.

Inside, one can see that the "barn" area is actually an attached workshop, open to the main building. Here one can see the signs of work recently being done to a bed frame, specifically a forest scene a little over helfway carved into it. Tools, unworked wood, projects in progress, and the like, are kept here.

There are decently sized windows here to let in the light of day, and brass candleholders besides this if one's work took them into the evening. A single set of stairs led to the upper level, which mostly consisted of of a modest living area and a walk made of wooden beams overlooking the production area and the warehouse storage toward the front. The place has the look of a showroom as well as a workshop; a place where things are sold, repaired, and crafted, all under one roof.

Everything seems quiet and still in this place. No noise from the street disturbs this quiet; possibly because of the stone walls and interior wooden features, possibly because it isn't very busy inside. Or some mix of both.

Jacques Mallard, Silversmith

Interior Image Not Unlocked Yet

The Silversmith's place stands exactly as it did when Kosara and Kathryn saw it the day before. It is a building just off of the main thoroughfare, standing apart from the others to provide a bit of privacy (from the street, if not the other buildings around it) were one to find their way around to the side or back. The front door is shut tightly, bearing a sign that clearly reads "Closed For Festival". You aren't sure if that was there before or not. There are two decently sized windows on the front of this shop, both of which are boarded up from the inside. Short steps lead up to the front door.

A quick scout around the building itself shows that the two windows in the front are the only windows on the building, as far as you can tell. There is a back door, however. It looks almost identical to the front, minus the sign. Everything seems very subdued and shut tightly. As this building is on the main street and near the river, it is very open to be view by the public.

Kathryn notices one rather off detail: through a small gap in the boards on one of the front windows, the party's resident "Half-Giant" can barely make out a dim, orange glow. It is so difficult to pick out at first that she doesn't even realize that it is there until a shadow passed across it. Something moved inside of this building.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Victoria Belmont Half-Elf, Bard, Level 3 HP: 23 / 23 Armor Class: 15 Conditions: N/A Location: Neil & Bob's Public House Action: N/A Bonus Action: N/A Reaction: N/A

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"My, but you're all business, aren't you?" mused Victoria, responding to Rickard. "All I said was 'here we are', and that... Hmm." Phrasing such as this might have been used with venom in intent, but nary a trace of it has to be seen on her face. The opposite, really; she seemed attentive and interested in what he had to say. "Well, no matter. Pleasantries aside, productive conversation over a light breakfast is not the worst thing to have happen."

Victoria's food arrived at this time, owing to the very simple nature of her selection, which she began to nibble on thoughtfully. Bread, butter, fruit, tea. She gave a listen to Marita's thoughts on the dressmaker's daughter, or more specifically, putting off speaking to her for a couple hours. The Bard agreed with a shrug. "It's too early for much of anything to be open right now. Well, excepting a place like this that rents beds and serves breakfast." The unspoken part of that thought was that this place and others like it also cater to a working class demographic, and as such made for early risers.

Another thought secondary to this one floated into her forebrain, and this one she expressed. "In truth, I am feeling stagnant. The sooner this gets underway, the better, so far as I am concerned. If we must wait another couple of hours before approaching the dressmaker, I would rather do something than not." Victoria daintily tore away a piece of bread from the small loaf she had been given and applied a rich dollop of butter to it. She motioned with it to Marita, who had gone to have her discussion with the barmaid, Lea (with whom the talented Bard made sure to avoid unnecessary eye contact, for reason all her own), and mentioned, "My colleague seems to have established a rapport with one of the locals."

A wistful smile and bite of bread later, she continued, "I'm not the keenest investigative mind. More of a 'people person', but if we have the time I would not mind taking a look at this other place. If it is related to our plight, of course." Victoria had no reason to think that it did not. The people were a little tight-lipped with Sheriff Arbalest; it stood to reason that some things never got communicated. As a passing fancy, Victoria considered that she wouldn't mind going back to check out The Honey Barn either, provided she could find some excuse that gave it any sort of connection to their actual job here in Avonshire.

With Victoria's bread down, she turned her attention to the fruit she was given. The pear she had eaten the previous day was amazingly sweet and she was hoping to recreate the experience today, but looking at the quality of the ones in this establishment, the apples were preferable. Still, she found it to be fragrant and juicy, tart, firm (but yielding), and was its own tiny adventure. She was a Bard from a College that put emphasis on death and necromantic study, yet took immense value in the tiny details that gave life color. Perhaps it was irony. Then again, to her philosophy, the two concepts gave each other sharper meaning. Perhaps it was why she walked the path of neutrality, as differing from the people with whom she currently associated.

Then Victoria realized that she was practicing inexpert philosophy over an apple and stopped posthaste. She finished her breakfast with impeccable manners, befitting a lady of her position, and gave her steadfast companion Morty a pat on his hickory-smoked noggin. "I'm game. Where shall we start first?"

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@Dragoknighte@rivaan@Remipa Awesome@Sigil@Lurking Krog

And here we are, me writing this OOC post, you reading it, that we begin to think toward the simple pleasures in life. Good food, good wine, okay friends, those egg and sausage burrito things at Mickey-D's; you know - stuff that makes life worth living. Unfortunately, none of your characters have most of that at their disposal, but they DO have a mystery to suss out and the opportunity to do so.

Short form: Your settings have been set, stocked with a slim crew of NPCs, and what comes next is up to you. Please contact me with the appropriate questions and/or declarations to make this happen, and may the math rocks tumble favorably for you. Update is up. Go be heroes.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Weather: Partly cloudy, a chill still lingering int he air. It is autumn, after all, but the sun is doing a good job of bringing this up to "sweater" weather, as opposed to "winter gear".

Time: Morning! Early morning still, not very far past dawn.

Ambience: Mr. Sun is a little higher up now, and he's being a pal. The fog has abated into something that stands at a hazy distance - it is present and lends heavily to the atmosphere, but does little to hamper vision except at a distance; in most cases this distance would have been blocked by structures, anyway.

People are slightly more active now. Most of these people appear to be working types moving to their places of business, so far as anyone might tell. There are a couple instances of citizens Avonshire Township that might be taking the proverbial Walk of Shame, but this is not easy to verify without direct questioning. The foot traffic is still sparse, comparative to the previous day and evening especially. The occasional cart can be seen headed outside, likely to one of the many farms in the outlying area. This is a heavily agricultural region, after all. And somewhere in, and/or around the fair Township, one might hear words softly carried by the wind, "G'mornin'! Nice day for fishin', ain't it? Huah hah!"

Neil & Bob's Public House

Robert sat at the bar, back to the door still, seemingly trying hard to ignore anything else except for the simple breakfast and ale in front of him. The few patrons inside of the establishment were quiet, also keeping to themselves for the most part. It is relatively quiet inside of the humble Public House, in blatant contrast to the revelry just a handful of hours earlier.

Following the delivery of what few, simple meals were ordered, Lea takes to pushing a mop across the floor with the occasional, "Oh! Excuse me!" or, "Careful stepping there, floor's damp." There isn't a lot heard from behind the door to the kitchen area aside from a shuffle of small wares every once in a while. It seemed that, after a long night, people were content with a quiet morning.

This also included the common sleeping room, which yet contained the bulk of its inhabitants. Not surprisingly, they were not fated to be early risers that day. A quiet retching sound could be heard from behind the wall which separated it from the taproom, and only because of the lack of speech and movement in the latter.

One of the tables in the main room, containing a pair of locals, pauses their meal long enough to give a long, hard look at the extremely still, quiet, emaciated-looking hog(?) accompanying the lady in purple. Silent glances slowly gave way to inaudible whispers and disturbed expressions. The pair of them lay money upon the table and leave without fuss, one grabbing a the already paid for loaf of bread from their table on the way out.

Bed & Breakfast

The journey to the spot the L'Roses reserved for themselves was uneventful, for the most part. The part of the Township where the hayloft and Public House reside was considered fairly common in quality, if respectable in the way that many towns (even if it is the major settlement of the region) simply were in the eyes of its inhabitants. The part of town that they were headed to, separated only by a couple of streets of any note, had more of a haute quality; this being the more mercantile Traders' Market area, or nearabouts. Money changed hands in larger quantities here, and a couple of the people might not let you forget it.

Odd stares came from a few of these types of people, slightly scornful and slightly wary, at the appearance of a Tiefling and the largest woman any of these people had ever seen. Whispers of things like, "...do you think that one is..? ...I don't know, I thought he said it was an Elf woman... Sorcery, that's what it is... ..wow, that's a tall one, innit? ...devil spawn, and in dark times, too..." might be understood by someone attentive to their surroundings. But no one approached, nor said anything openly.

Arriving at the silversmith's is the easy part. Following this is determining which green-roofed building could possibly be the correct one was another matter. It might have taken a few minutes, or instantly, depending upon the sharpness of the investigative mind pursuing it, but eventually the pieces are put together that the wooden sign that spelled out "Bed & Breakfast" attached to a two-story, green roofed structure might just be the one for which they had been looking.

A knock or three results in a moderately heavyset Human lady with touches of grey in her otherwise dark brown hair opening the door. She introduces herself as Mrs. Ines Cuvier, after a twinge of shock at the sight of her two highly irregular guests passes. "I'm so very sorry, Miss, and Miss, but we are completely booked up through the festival! I don't know where you might find a place this time of the year, but maybe you might rent a tent in the Farmers' Market? There's a good lady now, off with you, yes?" It might have come out a little more rudely than intended, and she looked like the was in a mild hurry.

"No wait, they're friends of mine!" called a familiar voice from inside the house. In the line of sight of the front doors, among other things, was a set dining table on the other side of the main room. Around it were a small collection of people, among which also sat Cecily and Lizbeth L'Rose. Cecily was speaking, of course, and gave a little wave. The whole of them had sat down to breakfast, and it looked like they just had. The fare here was of somewhat better quality then that being served at the Public House, though such things were ordinarily reserved for temporary residents. "Please let them in, Mrs. Cuvier. These are two of the ones I was telling you about."

Lizbeth gave a distant smile, waving with familiarity at Kosara and Kathryn even as she popped a fresh berry scone in her mouth and chewed vigorously. She looked around as if to motion to an empty seat at the table, but alas, they were all taken by boarders in town for the festival.

The proprietress relented, nodding her acquiescence and opening the door fully to admit the pair, should they so desire. The main room was rather open. It featured a large fireplace with a sitting area in front of it in addition to the dining area and a set of stairs made of well appointed and decoratively carved, dark wood. There were rugs, there were cushions, even a bit of local, folksy art. While this place had the bearing of a solid middle-class residence in a larger community, for a rural region like Avonshire this was near to opulence.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Victoria Belmont Half-Elf, Bard, Level 3 HP: 23 / 23 Armor Class: 15 Conditions: N/A Location: The Hayloft -> Neil & Bob's Public House Action: Minor Illusion Bonus Action: Morty Reaction: N/A

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A few dramatic waves, reminiscent of an orchestra conductor relaying the tempo of a strings section, and Victoria had set back up her illusory privacy screen. "You have approximately a minute, Kathryn. Make it count." The Bard might have stuck around to replenish the spell following this minute, except that her proclivities just then had her moving on toward creature comforts and getting their job in motion. Naturally, the former came first. Victoria had a desire for a little something warm that morning but did not hold out a ton of hope for the more sophisticated foodstuffs of her homeland. A lady might dream, though.

Responding to Kathryn's expression of gratitude for the minor illusion cast for modesty's sake, Victoria reassured, "Think nothing of it, Lady Knight. It's no more than you would do for me, I am certain." Her smile was sweet, seemingly masking another choice phrase or two implied yet left unsaid.

Morty (who apparently was popular the previous night), stood upon the lift with the same vacuous, unthinking expression as ever. Victoria lowered the not-quite-living beast to the ground floor and set back to her own belongings while the others talked. The discussion between Kosara and Kathryn honestly made the musical Half-Elf wonder if they were doomed to some horrible, Darwinian end in the near future. This was tempered by the reminder of the group utterly running roughshod over the Goblins. What they lacked in ...things... these people seemed to make up for in deliverable ouch. To contrast, even if she didn't look like she was paying the rapt-est attention, Victoria was taking in the details of the conversation which Marita overheard. There were implications to this which she could not connect without further information; questions that she might want to answer were she so inclined to follow up on them. If this even had anything to do with the disappearances.

As opposed to their Cleric, Victoria gave a tiny shake of her head as she slipped her coat over her leather armor and buckled on her swordbelt. She was no great fighter, obviously, but was no stranger to either style or defending herself. A slim, elegant blade made by talented Human hands from a foreign land helped give her, she believed, an air of adventurous sophistication. And if she was being honest with herself, there was no way in any of the Hells that she was disarming when she didn't have to. And her primary violin? Most assuredly its case was being slung across her back. It completed the whole, bardy ensemble.

Plans were being made, sort of, and Victoria had something similar to a plan, herself. Or an idea, more like. This idea revolved around her talking to people with practiced nonchalance who might point her in a useful direction and having a light breakfast. Probably not in the exact order. In any case, as plans that did not originate from her were being discussed, Victoria swung herself down the ladder to the ground floor and announced, "Whatever we get ourselves into, ladies, I'm having a light breakfast first. Best of luck." She stopped to give Morty a mental command to follow, and found herself wishing to voice a thought: "If you truly are going after the L'Roses first thing, they are located in a boarding house with a green roof, near to that boarded up silversmith's place. I saw them safely there myself last night." She went for the door, her tusked hog following, and suggested, "Perhaps we should meet back up at noon, latest. Just in case, of course. Oh, and good morning to you both."

She departed, Morty keeping to her heels.

Victoria wasted no time getting across the street to the Public House. This seemed to be her life, anymore. A series of public houses instead of her plying her trade as either a funerary overseer, scholar, or just musician. Her home accommodations were definitely more grand than to which she was subjected in places like Avonshire - not that it was bad, mind you, just not as haute as she was raised with. And she did tend toward expensive tastes from time to time. Upon entering, she made a beeline for Rickard's table and, albeit without express permission, settled into a seat on the opposite side. Her swordbelt hung neatly on the back of the chair.

Yes, there were glances at her burlap-wrapped companions from the very few people in the taproom. This was nothing that she hadn't dealt with since her more morally ambiguous abilities manifested. But as the Elf hadn't seen but a parlor trick to represent who she was and what she did, bringing Morty along seemed to be an expedient way of shattering any misconceptions or misunderstandings on the outset, provided that the warrior could put two and the square root of four together. She smiled but didn't speak; not until Lea tottled over to take her order. Sweetly, Victoria found out what was on their limited menu and chose for herself something simple; fresh bread, butter, fruit and tea. She then leaned in a little and addressed the guy in a rather optimistic tone, "Well. Here we are."

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@Dragoknighte@rivaan@Remipa Awesome@Sigil@Lurking Krog

And the update has been posted, for those of you who missed the notifiation directly next to this one. This can only mean one thing: The day begins anew and the investigation, such as it is, may resume. The world is your oyster, life does not completely suck, and your hit points reflect the relative health that your characters share in the face of almost certain, looming destiny. If that was not entirely clear a description, it's only because I meant it to be that way.

As always, hit me up in the Discord for questions, concerns, or for a good Hollandaise derivative. HELP, I meant. Help. The sauce will work itself out. Maybe. And as always, my appreciation for taking part in this strange little adventure. Let's get the events eventing now, shall we?

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Weather: Chilly, but a little more hospitable than an hour prior.

Time: Morning! Early morning, just past dawn.

Ambience: Still foggy. From the looks of things though, this is apt to change soon. The sun has asserted itself more prominently in the sky, bathing the Township of Avonshire with steady, pale light. The cold's edge has been blunted, as has the soupy thickness of the fog. Because of this, vision is significantly less restricted. There is a sheen of frost along most hard surfaces, windows, and anything still within the shadow of structures which the sun has not yet touched. It is autumn in Avonshire, which has come to mean cold nights and cool but milder days, even if the transition from one to the other takes a couple hours.

The exhalations of the earlier risers on the streets condenses and wisps away in billowy masses, giving the appearance of smoke or the like. A pair of children accompanying their father to his business take advantage of this, scrambling with boundless energy to pretend that they are dragons in flight, having at one another with their scorching breath. With no clear winner to their imaginary aerial duel, they enter a nearby structure, promising one another to pick back up where they left off the next morning.

Emanating from the Farmers' Market is the most encouraging scent of pork fat and woodsmoke, elements of seasoning jumbling together, all as the wind sees fit to send a gust in your direction. The pitmasters of the region are apparently still at their craft in anticipation of the event later this day. It is a welcome contrast to the more acrid smells of early morning industry, such as livestock and tanners' crafts, for example.

The sound of a hammer hitting metal can be heard across the thoroughfare from the Hayloft and next door to the Public House - the Fields Stable and Farrier appears to be open for business. Another early riser, it seems. The same Human who accepted the mule and wagon seems to be fitting a horseshoe first thing in the morning, his simple forge in the front of the establishment having come to life and providing ample heat for the veteran tradesman to ply his trade in relative comfort.

Neil & Bob's Public House

The highly toothsome smells of fresh bread and searing, smoky meat waft out of the kitchen of Neil & Bob's. This has positive effects on some of the boarders, negative effects on others. One can tell who those are very quickly. As a few shuffle out of the common sleeping area, rubbing sleep from their eyes, others still make a more or less civilized beeline for the door, going to parts unknown or parts very known to vent foulness from themselves birthed of overindulgence the night before.

These factors make for a very subdued setting within the Public House. Perhaps three of the table are occupied, and sparsely. Robert isn't immediately available in the taproom, nor is Daisy (though sounds of labor come from the kitchen that suggests her presence there). Lea is around, however, looking fairly haggard as if she did not get the fullest night of sleep she might have liked. The tavernlady moves to take orders for a simple breakfast - this is not a menu sort of place - for fare that almost borders on middle-class.

The bread is fresh and steamy hot, having just come from an oven a recently. The call for Bacon is responded to with strips of seared, heavily smoked pork; about as close to bacon as one might get without actually being sliced fatback. "Oh, Mister Elf, sir," Lea began in response to Rickard's order, "Eggs are a special order. I'll see what I can do." A credit to her profession of hospitality, she does return with good news about eggs, and after a few minutes more she returned with the requested ovoid delights. Otherwise, the simple nature of the business kept their food selections to a dense, local bread, butter, gravy, smoked pork, tea, and water. Wine and ale were present upon request, though it might be considered a bit early to hang a buzz around one's head. Apples and pears were available as well; the apples looked in better condition than the pears. The food was very simple, well prepared, and mildly seasoned - excellent for those with un-elaborate tastes.

Relative warmth waited for those entering the establishment, though it was not the only place one might go that hour.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Victoria Belmont Half-Elf, Bard, Level 3 HP: 23 / 23 Armor Class: 15 Conditions: N/A Location: The Hayloft Action: Prestidigitation, Note of Undeath Bonus Action: Morty Reaction: N/A

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Victoria did not sleep with the comfort and feeling of safely that a child might at home in bed. It was better than the cool night she spend in the mausoleum two nights prior, leaning against her small cart with Morty keeping watch, and in truth was about as restful as the night she spent in The Infamous Pear the previous evening. The level of privacy felt about the same. Instead of being in a room with two other strangers, she was now in a moderately heated-ish open air loft with almost strangers that she had known for a little over a day now. A bedroll atop bales of hay with a blanket to cover near to a glowing brazier wasn't the worst way to get a night's rest.

There was the occasional stirring in over the course of the night as watch changed and new wood was added to the brazier. During those times Victoria's eyes would sleepily open, noting the change in position of her allies and Morty's steadfast stillness, bell firmly grasped in its mouth. Then she would shift a little and slip back into reasonably fitful sleep. This continued until the first light of day hinted at its arrival from around the edges of the doors. The reality that they were in a town that, for all intent and purpose was potentially hostile ground, settled into her thoughts, prompting a more full entry into consciousness. They were there for a job. More specifically, they were there for a potentially profitable investigation. Oh yes, that "common good" thing, too. Lest she forget. So when Marita approached to rouse her, Victoria was quite ready to be roused. "Good morning, Marita," she said with a cheerfulness which she did not completely embrace.

A quick mental command called Morty over to her as she sat up in her makeshift bed. The bell made a little noise in transit; enough to make Victoria wince, expecting a full knell to sound instead of the tiny brassy report which did. She smiled at her own foolishness and reclaimed the bell from her porcine thrall, wrapped the clapper snugly, and replaced it in her chest. A moment of concentration brought with it tendrils of unseen necromantic energy to reinforce her connection to the piggy wonder and extend its animation for a few more hours.

While she was at it, a sly look in the direction of the Monk's belongings brought back the memory of a discussion from the night before. Victoria rose, stretching her whole body out and showing off the fine silk of her modest(ish) undergarments, and claimed two things from his belongings - a shortbow and a quiver of arrows - both of which formerly belonged to the Goblins they slaughtered the day before. The quality was surprisingly adequate of, if a bit plain. These went into her chest with what appeared to be a set of alternate equipment and clothing. Mostly clothing. "If he comes back, I just borrowed them." The words were stated very flatly. Her expression contained a wry smile.

Following this and a few practices of basic hygiene, which was a priority for her generally and especially while around people with which she was not intimately comfortable, Victoria propped her cosmetics kit on top of her traveling chest and opened it gingerly. Careful, dexterous hands applied various products of her trade and choosing, accenting her already striking features subtly; the goal was not to appear as a work of art more than a creature of divine, approachable, natural beauty. It was a craft of which she excelled. She did add a hint of boldness around her eyes, truth told, but nothing remotely like the funerary display from yesterday. Satisfied, Victoria donned her slim coat, affixed her silver, raven skull brooch below her neckline, and buckled on her swordbelt. Her swashbucklingly notable hat made its way into her hands.

"Well then ladies," she began with a smile and a swoop of her most bardiest of headwear, "I rather feel like having something hot, and, perhaps a bit of fresh fruit this morning. If you will excuse me, myself and my faithful Morty will abscond to the Public House for this morning's repast. It's time I formally introduce myself to the town anyway, and we've quite the day ahead of us, yes?" Morty trotted onto the block and tackle lift, ready to be lowered to the ground floor. "Good boy, Morty. Good boy."