Sigil

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@Dragoknighte@rivaan@Remipa Awesome@Sigil@Arty Fox

Congratulations on surviving this far, Theydies and Gentlethems. A note for the party; the map and description of Neil & Bob's is placed there based upon the discussion we had in our Discord's OOC-Lounge. Characters taking action otherwise will have to either deal with this or send me a private message with a good reason as to why. Of course, light conversation will have to take place before this IC, but that's why we worked it out in Discord. Plug in what you need to. Work it out among characters. Hell, do a collab or two if it feels like the right thing to do. Or just assume it's going off without a hitch offstage and do your thing.

Per usual, any comments, questions, etc. should be dropped in my lap via DM.

Huzzah!

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Weather: The heavens have opened, spilling the contents of a thousandfold skyward buckets upon the earth below. This is no massive, flooding deluge, but a respectable enough downpour to chase folk from the streets. There might have been enough water to cover the cobblestones of the main streets, at the least, were it not for a superior drainage system which performed valiantly in its task of channeling it into the nearby river.

Time: It is just past midday, or thereabouts. Without context it would be difficult to say, as the sun is nowhere to be seen and the usual townish occurrences associated with midday were nonexistent.

Ambience: Rain and rumor have removed the lively action of the town almost completely. The streets are largely abandoned, with exceptions being the occasional awning under which handfuls of people might be clustered. Precipitation hammers out white noise and obscures vision at a distance; not as completely as the fog from the night previous but notable enough. Persons attempting stealth might find their efforts easier in these conditions. Rain dominates the Township as a feature, giving an eerie, ghost town feel even though this is the objectively the densest population in the region.

The Farmers' Market contained the best example of locals caring a little bit less than others about the crisis that they were all in. Maybe it was due to the utter stubbornness of the salt of the earth folk, or the clannishness of the agricultural families from nearby. Suffice it to say, they are holding fast. Pavilions, covered wagons, tents, and the like are heavily occupied, and the smell of roasting, smoking, and curing pork continues, though blunted by the weather.

The Traders' Market is virtually abandoned. All of the big trades done in the morning, but a couple of later boats came in nearer to midday. One tied off and its inhabitants fled to shelter from the weather, the other staying put under a tied-down shelter, its inhabitants patiently waiting for the rain of soften some.

Outside of the walls, things are tightly battened down. Many are awaiting a good opportunity to travel while others form up in knots of people and vehicles like a bolstered caravan encampment. No one sells wares, and their numbers have gotten even smaller.

*****

Township Thoroughfare

COMING FROM THE WEST: The rain patters down regularly in front of the Honey Barn, turning the street into a respectable but quite fordable stream. This is a more secluded section of town, on the other side of the river and away from the places commonly populated during daytime hours, making it just perfect for prying eyes to gaze upon the unwary amid its corners and copse of trees. Luckily, Madame Marcie showed her newest guests across the main floor, up stairs to a low balcony, through a wonderfully appointed bathhouse attachment, and out a back way. The weather outside was not ideal, but it might just have beaten the alternative.

Naturally, the rain and obscuring conditions made it quite possible that any who wished to follow could do so at a distance, if they knew what they were doing. Once or twice, a person might be forgiven if paranoia had them look behind, anticipating hooded figures or the like but never quite seeing them.

Rainwater spilled from the bridges and cobblestones of the Township, feeding a slightly swollen river even as the settlement's ample drainage system did the same with greater efficiency. From this point, one may travel south and west to get back to the Hayloft/Public House/Stable area quickly, utilizing side streets. Either way, it is inevitable that Kathryn and Kosara make it back to this area about a minute before the others arrive.

COMING FROM THE EAST: Feet hit the flooded stones of the main thoroughfare with purpose, even if that purpose is to get out of the inclement weather. An uneasy sort of white noise peace fills the air around the trio of Baronfjord, Marita, and Victoria, as what should be a crowded and bustling street is abandoned, and all of the windows visible have been shuttered. With the exception of movement at the edge of visible distance, likely from others hurrying along to their destinations, this place could pass for a ghost town.

The most direct path takes the trio down the main thoroughfare and into the Township's center, where the huge stone basin still stands and a great, gurgling fountain seems to push water even higher in defiance of he rain's presence. No performers play their music here this time, though; no jugglers a'juggling, no songs being sung by skilled vocalists. Pushcarts, may of them, simply lay where they were left, the valuable things they might have once held removed for spots more secure.

From here is it south, as if to leave the same way which the party entered the Township. A quick cut to the east puts them within sight of their intended destination. The sign of the Public House swings back and forth in the rain and wind, pitching rivulets off to the ground below. The Stables seem open and friendly, as its proprietor is in the small, covered farriers' smithy in the front of the establishment. Fields by name, he remembers Marita and Victoria from before and gives a wave before getting back to repairing unruly nails with heat and hammer.

Neil & Bob's Public House

The party now removed from one another by a matter of traversable meters, and is within clear(ish) sight of one another. Casual observation has no one else out and about on this street right now, though you can hear something that might be business come from inside of the Public House. The Hayloft, nondescript and closed up as ever, lay right across from the Stable, which is right beside Neil & Bob's.

Anyone entering the Public House will see that three tables are occupied - the ones nearest to the bar proper. Lea is here, taking to her usual duties even if there really isn't much to do. Robert is here as well, taking up his position behind the bar like a seasoned professional. The former gives a smile and wave in the party's general direction, while the latter casts a wary look with steely eyes. There is a fire in the hearth, crackling warmly against the oppressive sounds of the rain from outside, and the overall feel of this place is more comfortable, with a decent toothsome smell of food cooking over the notes of ale in the air.

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: Township Thoroughfare -> En Route to the Hayloft Action: N/A Bonus Action: Morty Reaction: N/A

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The woman who spoke up earlier was suddenly less receptive to conversation. Or were that not the case, her desire appeared less aligned with discussion and more with brief monologue. Either way, the exchange with the blue Dragonborn did not bear the fruit that he had apparently hoped. With that, and the enhanced fleetness of foot which marked her exit, Victoria's opinion of the situation had altered. Keeping out in the middle of this fast emptying street with people looking on half hidden from behind window slits after something unnatural was not the kind of attention that she was after. These were not appreciative crowds of present and potential fans, nor were they the solemn crowd associated with her more noble pursuits of her College's philosophy. Her crowd-seeking was better served among those in cheer, or those in sorrow. Fear did not create a preferred audience.

The original deference to Marita's judgement on how to proceed was overruled by the Bard's more flighty nature, a decision having been made which was more along the avenue of what was more desirable for self. She would have called it pragmatic, even if such a word was rarely used to describe her to others. So in that amounted to a declaration of self assertion, Victoria leaned over to her much holier associate and quietly proclaimed, "I am not comfortable here. I shall find my way back to meet up with the others and..." Victoria paused for a second to attempt to find the right words for the occasion, continuing, "...and I leave your superior judgement to puzzle out the mystery of our new friend." She was not the most insightful of persons, and understood her limitations in this regard.

Victoria's hand rested on the hilt of her sword, a seeming act of nonchalance which kept it positioned for a fast draw from her other hand; not that her talents fully lay with the sword, but not everyone would know that. Her voice and her violin were the more deadly of her defenses, naturally, as well it should be, to her thoughts. She slid the first two fingers of her right hand across the brim of her wide-brimmed hat, gave the Cleric a nigh roguish smile and a wink, and strode down the street with more confidence than she actually felt. It seemed to be a trend with her lately. Responding to standing mental command, her previously living, burlap wrapped henchboar started trotting just behind Victoria and to her side.

She did briefly stop next to Baronfjørd. Her eyes were occupied with windows and places where folk could conceivably be hiding, and as such Victoria did not look to the young Dragonborn as she spoke, again just loudly enough to be heard by him. "I feel famished. I return to our group, hopefully to take a luncheon. Perhaps a bottle of wine. It has been that category of day. Perhaps we will hear more of your story then." It wasn't precisely an invitation. The thought did occur to Victoria that this person was another outsider, like themselves. He was also just sighted with her and Marita out in the open while that boy started to shift, after which he openly mentioned the Sheriff. If the wrong eyes saw this happen, then their new acquaintance was probably just made a target by forces still murky of origin. "Excuse me."

Victoria tipped her hat in him direction and again set off down the road. To her estimation, if anything particularly aggressive was going to happen, there would be a delay while the news of what had happened set in and plans were made accordingly. It was best to get off of the street before then.

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: Township Thoroughfare Action: N/A Bonus Action: Morty Reaction: N/A

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

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

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

Morty, per usual, just stood there.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@Dragoknighte@rivaan@Remipa Awesome@Sigil@Arty Fox

Update is posted. My apologies for the shorter description of things going on about the Thoroughfare, there isn't a whole lot of direct action or discussion to get into when the townsfolk are trying to get indoors and avoid people, and the general setting is already out there. But here we are, opening a line of possible inquiry with the lady who spoke up earlier. Let's see where the dice rolls take us. If I might pose a suggestion - act decisively. We are approaching the more active portion of this adventure, and a timetable of penned events is happening. The chance to affect these events comes with character involvement.

Per usual, questions, comments, concerns, etc. are best dropped in my DMs on our Discord, and get with me for calls on dice rolls, also in our Discord. And once again, I appreciate your presence in this D&D mystery story.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Township Thoroughfare

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

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

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

Madame Marcie's Honey Barn

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

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

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

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

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@Sigil
Permission to edit my last post for a structural error?

@Sigil
Sure, but don't make this a habit, jackhole.

@Sigil
Fine. Took care of it.

...and this was our refresher course on post edits. Yay!

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: Township Thoroughfare Action: N/A Bonus Action: Morty Reaction: N/A

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

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

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

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

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@Dragoknighte@rivaan@Remipa Awesome@Sigil@Arty Fox

So, here we are again; me posting an update, you reading it. Things are in mid-happen. One will notice that there isn't a lot of detail at the Thoroughfare section of the update. This is mostly because the situation hasn't changed much aside from fewer people being present. It's like a wave of people getting news and hiding themselves. Well, a lot of them, anyway. Otherwise, this looks like an opportunity for character interaction. Or whatever best fits character motive.

The duo across town seem to have their hands full, and have finally gotten into the Honey Barn, so congrats are in order. Do what you do.

And for everyone, as per usual let me know if you are performing a specific action, hit me up in the OOC of our Discord and I will make my DM'ly judgements, and if there are any questions just drop me a line.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Township Thoroughfare

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

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

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

Madame Marcie's Honey Barn

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

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

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

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

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