Sigil

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Neil & Bob's Public House, interior

*******

Lea numbly rose from where she was sitting, still holding that note. She gave attention to no one with anything more than a passing gesture (including a quiet "thanks" to Kathryn for the food) except for Marita. It seemed like shock when she didn't immediately return the hug, but by the time the Cleric had pulled away her arms had risen with the intent of returning the gesture more fully. Though she was late, her intention was obvious and the connection seemed to bring Lea back to a sense of the present, which she used to stand and deal with a few odds and ends around the taproom. She took a taper to the quietly burning hearth fire and used it to set candles alight, placing them in small brass braziers on the tables nearest to the group. She seemed to give some consideration to the brighter lamps nearby, but decided against them. The windows were shuttered and curtains pulled for a reason, and more light than was necessary would be counterproductive to this.

The fireplace, on the other hand, practically requested more fuel. The rain had gone, but it brought with it a chill that was just beginning to creep into the building. With that, she mumbled something about putting another kettle on and returned to the kitchen. The general demeanor was one of a young woman trying to keep busy. This took only a moment, as water was plentiful and the stovetop was good and hot already. Putting a kettle on was as much a chore as filling up a pot and setting it down.

As the party made their plans and had their discussions, Lea wiped down the bar and did the small tasks ordinarily assigned to her when the place was about to close, with a table of VIPs staying late. It was obviously early to do this as, while the sun was in descent, it was not yet nighttime (let alone closing time). With the absence of customers and the looming threats of the evening as yet unfulfilled, one might be forgiven for getting the professional aspect of their day over and done with. It wasn't long at all before the usually cheerful and optimistic Barmaid of Avonshire found herself standing behind the bar, sighing and looking at the note again. She folded it and set it down on the smooth countertop, her other hand procuring a stout drinking vessel. "I really hope Daisy gets back soon," she said, mostly to herself. Another murmur came, this one a little louder, "I might as well enjoy myself a little, while I settle my nerves." The contents of a cask could be heard emptying into her cup; the semi-astute observer could readily see that she had tapped into the hosghead of Rose River Fortified Zinnoberrot.

The shadows deepened and flickered in the room just a bit more as the light of the day softened outside. If viewed from a bird's eye, the overall feel of the Township might seem serene as foot traffic had all but vanished in this once busy settlement, celebratory banners flapping wearily in the light breeze and ornamental displays of the season left to stand lonely from their places of public prominence. The twinge of seasoned woodsmoke and pork fat remained in the air, within those worked log walls which surrounded Avonshire, demonstrating the relentless passion of some of the locals in their pursuit of the perfect hog broil. And somewhere, somewhere within, the quiet assertion of one man could barely be heard ringing out, _{"G'morning! Nice day for fishing, ain't it? Huah hah!"} Though few outsiders might be able to recognize it, this was the look of Avonshire awaiting distress.

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: Morty Reaction: N/A

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The mostly constant conversation about appropriate application of the word sandwich, as it related to their more recent escapades with food and personal scores to settle, admittedly did annoy Victoria. Not that she was going to let any piece of that show on her face or in her mannerisms; not voluntarily, at any rate. This was expected, more or less, and was part of a gambit she hoped would move things along to get back to the Public House when she playfully said that she knew a good place in town to catch a bit of lunch. Now the price of this moment of cheerfulness had to be paid for with mild annoyance. Being honest, it could have been much worse.

Worse, in this case, might have been the novice adventuring group she had been with before this one. Victoria's thoughts went back into her career as an adventuring Bard at its outset, and the people with whom she associated at that time. One was far more morally grey than herself, another with a penchant for sociopathy as it came to sentient life, and yet another who enjoyed using magic to set things on fire. The incident which made them part ways seemed as much a blessing as it was a curse in hindsight, purely for the reason that it gave her an excuse to leave. Victoria had been a solo act for a while following this, and now seemed to have fallen in with this group. Temporary or not, whichever case it might be, deep down she preferred for herself to be the most ethically questionable member of the group. As long as she set the lower bar, there could be a greater element of trust and a touch more patience for the party's hi-jinks. The ongoing sandwich debate was, in this context, a fine point over which did not merit quibbling.

As it turned out, Victoria did lend a hand in the kitchen, putting things on trays and bringing them out. When she returned for the final time, she observed that Lea wandered just away from the others in the room, she had a piece of paper that she had picked up in the kitchen that Victoria hadn't gotten a chance to read for herself, and that the others were still talking about what is or is not a sandwich. Still, she kept her spirits to the positive, mentioning to Kosara as the last serving dish hit the table, "See? I told you I knew a good spot." It was delivered with a wink and a mischievous expression. To her inquiry as to whether Cavendish, in so many words, had a magical Patron, she responded with a more pragmatic, "To hear it indirectly described, I should say so. But you are more of the expert than I."

She gave an attentive listen to Baronfjord as he explained in a general way the manifestation of his astral arms. It was just general enough that she didn't fully comprehend the basics of it, until she heard the last part of his explanation concerning energy, training, and meditation. Then it dawned on her that this was one of the abilities which might avail themselves to a Monk, just not of a discipline that she had personally encountered as of yet. She gave a marginally understanding nod to her Dragonborn companion and returned her attention to the table. She recovered a thick piece of buttered bread, a piece of fruit, and a cup of tea for herself. "Maintaining my girlish figure," she explained to no one in particular. Her real reason was to avoid excesses before what might be a hard night, and vanity was an excellent, particularly believable cover for someone like her. Victoria pulled her seat out a little, angled so that she had a good line of sight in Lea's direction if she so chose. But to business: "I would take Kathryn's assertions a step farther, and assume that we will be sought out sooner or later. Have we an idea as to what we wish to do this evening?" There might be merit in holing up and staying defensive. Or going the opposite route and attempting to strike at a target, if they had something solid to name as target-worthy. All the same, Victoria's eyes would occasionally slip toward the paper Lea held and continued to look at. "For now, let us take a moment to breathe, recover our weapons, and see what happens next." She raised her teacup to her lips and took a slow, soothing sip, exhaling a pleased breath upon lowering. "This is actually fairly lovely tea," she appraised, moving to sample from her cup once more.

Morty stood dumbly, giving no outward reaction to the fact that its standing orders were just changed by a simple mental command from its purple-clad master, who was innocuously tasting the local tea and conversing.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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

At the risk of being terse, the Short Rest is upon you. Characters doing anything aside from shot rest approved activities will find themselves without the benefit therein. Talk amongst yourselves, prepare for what might come in whatever manner you choose (within reason), and best of luck. Questions, comments, concerns, etc. can be best put to me in our Discord. Thanks!

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Neil & Bob's Public House, interior

*******

Robert gave a long, hard look at the people gathered in his place of business. These were people he didn't know more than two days ago, with the exception of Lea, and now he was leaving his livelihood in their hands. The decision was made rather quickly and it showed on his face. His very visage seemed to bear the phrase "no other choice" like a huge, white surrender flag. But of the options at his disposal, this was the best. Assuming that they were as well-meaning as they seemed, he place might not even be burned to the ground if he was alive to get back to it. A hard sigh found Bob responding to Kathryn first, using stern words. "NO. Do not come for me. Do not try to help me. Stay away from me until dawn breaks." He held the tall woman's gaze for a moment afterward to hammer his point home.

When dealing with Marita's contributions to the conversation, Bob remained mostly quiet. One might be able to tell that he wanted to say something on a couple of occasions but restrained himself. He had likely already said too much as it was, and in truth dreaded some manner of repercussion in the near future. Between the Cleric's assessment on the situation and Victoria's little additions, the tavernkeeper turned his head away from the conversation, teeth firmly set together. A final look of blessed relief crossed his face when Marita finally said that they had no further need of him. Robert could not help but think that this was a very different position to be in than when he met their group initially.

While he was present for the entire (and to his mind, cumbersome) conversation about the application of sandwich ingredients in ways that did not traditionally conform to the conventional applications of the word, he did an excellent job of pretending not to hear it. It did not exactly bolster his confidence in their ability to handle a threat of the nature they might face that evening, but a tiny glimmer of hope remained that the three of them engrossed in the odd topic might be doing so because of their self-assuredness to achieve victory, and therefore allowed for the painfully trivial to take the forefront of their conversation. A man might carry hope, anyway. Another quick check was made on the silvered chains and manacles in the box, after which he made for the front door. "Lock up behind me," he ordered his employee, Lea. "Maybe you oughtn't go home tonight. Might be safer here, unless you know a better spot." Robert donned a hat and pushed his way out of the front door. Careful looks followed before he strode out of his Tavern and into the softening light of the day.

The open door revealed changed weather conditions. Rain ceased to come down, though puddles remained. The majority of the water, what was left of it, flowed in the general direction of the main thoroughfares. A moderate sized town along a river had to have good drainage, apparently. Bits of sky were visible, too, and a biting wind carried its way inside. If this was a prelude to the weather to come, then it was going to get cold, and probably quickly.

Lea did not speak to her boss, but with tears forming in her eyes gave him a vigorous nod. Yes, she would lock up. Maybe she would stay, even. And yes, she would get these people food, even if they refused to agree on how it should be constructed. "I'll um... I'll just bring some things out and you can do, um, ...do whatever you wish." She was obviously distracted. To Victoria she merely gave an empty nod of agreement, and motioned for her to follow into the kitchen area where the Half-Elf could help with things.

It was but a few scant minutes that she returned with whatever they had on standby, which yes, included fresh fruit, cheese, and toasted bacon for those who might want to run minor (but not inexhaustible) experiments with edible construction. With it was a tureen of stew, a few loaves of coarse but good bread, and tea. Cold and hot water both were in abundance for the meal. The items were brought out with enough haste to make it known that it was not freshly made, but rather held warm for what might have been an expectation of greater amounts of business. Lea possessed a distant look about her as she ferried items from the kitchen to the common area, the only help being what was offered from within the party. If Daisy was around, she hadn't been spotted.

"Oh, sorry. Some of you wanted to tend to your hurts. I'll just be a moment." said Lea, keeping herself busy as she might in the present circumstances. Simple wound care items found their way out next for those who might have need of them. As soon as everyone was set up with that they wanted, the young barmaid took a loaf of bread for herself and sat quietly nearby, absently tearing off pieces and chewing them thoughtfully. "Pull out some beds if you want, or, um, ... just use the sleeping area. Sheets are fresh." There was no nuance to her words; a mere recitation of information to those who might listen. The pulled out a slip of paper from her apron pocket and inspected it, continuing, "Daisy should be back soon. Help yourself until then, okay?" Her words were deliberate as a free hand motioned toward the bar and kitchen area.

The Short Rest has begun.

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: Morty Reaction: N/A

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Robert's words were taken in and mentally digested as best as possible. The implications and ramifications therein spent a few thoughtful seconds colliding with each other in the confines of Victoria's mind, and coupled with what she had figured out on this investigation, came to some pretty horrible conclusions. The Bard herself liked to stay out of situations which did not concern her directly nor which piqued her academic interests, but this was something that she was stuck right in the middle of. The possibility of taking what little daylight they had left and booking it definitely came to mind; before she agreed to accept this job he was headed west to the sea anyway and had no problems continuing with those plans. Something struck her about what all was going on, though. It didn't seem right, even among the obvious horrors going on in this region. She kept her conjecture to herself, quietly waiting for the initial push of their immediate situation to calm some before addressing anyone else.

When Victoria did speak back up, it was to Marita. "I cannot speak for the rest of you," she began, an attempt at humor lifting her voice, "But I look nothing like trouble. I am an absolute delight to be around." She gave a warm smile, whether or not her charming personality took hold of the overall mood of the room (which she suspected that it wouldn't), and then completely changed the script. "And what if Cavendish is upholding the law, Pholtan Barbel?" Her tone was inquisitive, maybe even a little challenging, but not judgemental nor accusatory. "What if he is upholding an ethic or a code, but not the one he swore to when becoming a Constable? I find it hard to believe that a man suddenly granted magical ability does not have the yoke of another's doctrine upon them. But I agree, he cannot be ignored."

What she said next surprised her a little. "This place was beautiful and fun; full of life and music. I danced around the square's fountain yesterday and ate one of the nicest blush pears I have ever tasted. I met a sweet but sad little girl with ...potential I'm not sure she realizes... and her very generous aunt. I sang in a cemetery with new friends and made memories that I shall commit to paper, that others might share a shade of my contentment. No one in Avonshire has come at me with torches, no Cleric of Light sought to remove me with force and holy water. This man, Cavendish, and whomever or whatever pulls his strings has tainted this place in the middle of a time of community and joy. Some things must eventually be answered for." A sense of resolve followed her words. No, she would not be running for the coast like she had planned. Even if it went against a tried and true survival strategy. In that moment, she remembered a similar mistake from a couple of years ago which brought her to an interesting predicament which still haunted her.

The words settled for another few moments, during which Victoria shuffled her cloak about to more evenly dry, applying a bit of care to the fine garment. She sighed. A little drama never hurt anyone, most of the time. But she meant it. A short chuckle later she looked to Baronfjord, to whom she has asked a question and likewise had been asked one. To bring the overall feel of the room back to one of general rest and/or guarded relaxation, she opted to answer first. Sweetly, but with direct words, she ripped the cover off of one of her personal truths, "Why, I am a True Bard. I recognize the music inherent to the world around me and apply it to magic, creating effects that others versed in the Art might require a notable bloodline, or years of arcane study to accomplish. The philosophy of my chosen College flavors the effects which I can accomplish, which in my case is the College of the Grey Requiem. It channels certain emotions and powers associated with... well, with the celebrations and sorrows of one's life, death, and what lay between these states of existence. We see to the fallen and respect their beliefs, occasionally borrowing the wisdom of those who came before or utilizing that which is left behind. Some of the more powerful can perform other acts, as powerful as it is questionable by those who consider themselves righteous." Okay, maybe she was getting a little flowery. To summarize, "Much of what we do is a form of Necromancy, with many aspects common to Bards of Lore."

She might get an answer back, but for now Victoria bent a little attention to a slightly overwhelmed Lea. "Let us keep talking in a few moments, Master Dragonborn Excuse me, please?" The others were discussing the more intricate protocols of sandwich making and/or what constitutes one in the first place, not to mention firing off specific orders which didn't quite fit the menu. She looked to the barmaid, blushed just a little, and said, "We'll work something out, Miss. Of course we will! If your friend Daisy is still back in the kitchen, I'm sure she can handle it. If she is not, I'm sure I can help put a few things on a plate or bowl up some of that yummy stew from the last time. You still have that, don't you? It was delicious." Her tone was soft and reassuring, her words kind, her body language subdued and non-threatening. "Maybe we can all sit down and have a sip of something fine and calming in a bit, yes? I think you've earned it."

As usual, Morty just stood there. He was out of the way and seemed very content to do so.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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

Hello again. Here I am, writing an update. And here you are, reading it. I guess that works out for us all. ANYWAY, this is a time and place that a Short Rest is possible if you want to take it. If asked, the tavern will have a few things to help bandage a wound and/or patch someone up. There is food and drink here, and while not as defensible as the Silversmith's place it isn't terrible. There is time for upkeep and discussion if desired, and even the resources for a decent nap. Do try not to oversleep.

Per usual, please be in touch via our Discord for all manner of question, comment, or die roll. Remember that the town is going through a series of events behind the scenes and situations are dynamic in nature. Oh, and best of luck to us all.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Neil & Bob's Public House, interior

*******

In contrast to the lively action and near lack of standing room from the night before, Neil & Bob's Public House stood open and bereft of patronage. The proprietor and the barmaid, seemingly ever-present in the establishment, remained the only persons aside from the party in sight. The openness itself allowed for the hint of an echo in some places.

Lea took to her job with industry, clearing off and wiping down the last of the tables for detail. She might have put the chairs top the freshly cleaned tables, and indeed moved to start doing this until Robert waved her away from the task. So far as the Pub's owner was concerned, there were more important things at hand than making sure the furniture was arranged in a manner convenient for later floor care.

With this thought, he stepped over to the box which Marita placed upon the counter and nodded his thanks, giving no other attention to the words spoken to him from the others nearby. He gingerly opened the container, breathing a small sigh of relief when he looked upon what lay within. With a sense of urgency, Robert lifted its contents and gave them a more thorough inspection. Just as what went into the box at the silversmith's, what came out was a set of chained shackles, the interior of each manacle inlaid with freshly solidified silver. There wasn't a lot of art to this project, nor did there need to be. "Good... good."

A quick check out of a window later, and a marginally less stressed Bob reevaluated his guests. Addressing things mentioned now, he replied, "Cavendish is a dangerous man. That isn't a slight that he'll forget. You all are targets now." His eyes hovered over Kathryn's new hammer. "You... You lot must have really angered him with that one." Robert looked like he wanted to smiled a little, but in the end could not. Instead he looked back to Marita and spoke, "Folk in this town are good people. A little more cowardly than they let on; decent enough. Most of them."

As before, Robert was picking his words carefully. "The ones you got to worry about already know you. I suspect you will know who they are in a couple hours, too." A quick subject change, "Stay as long as you need. If you have another place to go or friends in town, don't tell me about it. I can't help you anyway, but nothing says Lea or Daisy can't." These last words were evasive, out of apparent necessity. "Bedding in the other room's been changed if you want to lay down for a time. Rest in there or pull a couple out here - makes no difference to me."

The mention of Cavendish using magic brought a sudden hesitance to Robert's movements and speech. When he finally could say something, it was again very careful. "The Constable and I have some things in common. I was a fighting man in my younger days. Army term of service, nothing grand. I don't know a thing about magic. No one in my family, neither. Might surprise a lot of folks if I levitate a fork at suppertime. Not that I can, 'cause I can't. But if I were to, it ain't because I took to study, and it's not because some god let me, neither. A man like me would have to agree to something. Sign on the dotted, you know? No, I'm content with my tavern. Magic is overrated, far as I'm concerned."

To Baronfjord, who made a simple comment about a rat problem, the response given was likewise simple. "Yeah. Little guys can get vicious sometimes. Take care and avoid if you can."

Kosara's observations mostly went by without response. He seemed to be waging an internal argument to keep to a neutral path of neither confirming nor denying any statements on this ilk, resigning himself to merely saying nothing. When she did bring up something he could comment on, he took to it with his usual ambiguity, "Menu's above the bar. If'n you're hungry, talk to Daisy or Lea. I can't help you directly out of the kindness of my heart. Matter of fact, I need to get back home soon. I have a project to finish before nightfall." He raised the shackles briefly and set them back in the box. "I can't do a thing for anybody tonight. Do not come looking for me." He made it a point to look at each of the party members in turn, hoping that his words sunk in. "If we got any more business, now is the time. Otherwise, I'm leaving you in Lea's care."

To her credit, the barmaid was doing a competent job holding back the nervousness that she felt right then. Competent, but not excellent. It showed around the edges. "I'll see what I can't do about that bacon and cheese, Miss!" she declared, motioning with a hand that trembled just a little.

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: Rear Exterior, Silversmith's Shop -> Neil & Bob's Public House Action: N/A Bonus Action: Morty Reaction: N/A

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Victoria's optimistic demeanor continued unabated during their short trek back to the Public House. It was a little disproportionate to the serious nature of their of their tasks, if one looked purely at her overt actions. She buddied up to Kosara after openly and slightly sarcastically disagreeing with her proposed actions just a couple of minutes before, smiled on as Kathryn stuffed the guard into a barrel, and even gave a supportive look in Marita's direction during her times of irritation. She looked downright cheerful, as if anticipating a public performance or personal rendezvous of note. But below the surface, was it really positive anticipation, or the light veneer of mild social deception necessary to further the events unfolding with as little friction as possible? People who truly knew the Bard - people who were not present in Avonshire - might lean to the latter explanation.

The open nature of her attitude belied a certain specificity of action. Each footfall was placed to cause as little noise or notice as possible, her cadence in this way occurring with the same frequency of another around her. It was subtle, and one had to look for it. Further, despite her garish dress, she was covered by a charcoal colored cloak (though her hat was marginally distinct, being fair) and kept toward the center of the group when possible. Her party did thing that would surely bring attention to themselves if casual eyes observed. This said, she strove to be the least worthy of remark amongst them.

Then she remembered that there was a walking feast centerpiece wrapped in burlap following her which probably didn't help matters any. Scoffing lightly at herself, Victoria quickened pace and contented herself with the outcome of merely getting to where they needed to go without incident, if at all possible. It was best to leave being sneaky for an occasion when her company was capable of, and had desire to, act with subtlety. The irony of this situation as not lost on her, being the flashy, performing type and under more standard circumstances would try to draw attention to herself.

There was a quiet sigh of relief when she finally entered Bob's place, doubly so when he gave his few patrons the boot and closed up behind them. After the simple, two word inquiry from the proprietor himself and Marita's summary to answer, Victoria spoke up in support of her overall concerns. "Oh quite, yes!" she began, removing her hat and knocking off the vanguard of precipitation from its treated felt brim. It was an excellent hat in very good condition, kept that way by regular care and several applications of Prestidigitation. Continuing, "Blood was spilled in the main thoroughfare and an enemy solidified, of this there is no doubt. Cavendish is more than a mere Constable, we have discovered painfully. Did you know, he used magic to slip away at the end, there?"

This reminded her of something she could not address before due to circumstance, and so she took the opportunity to turn her attention temporarily to Baronfjord, before she forgot to bring it up again, "That ...thing... with your arms? I admit fascinating curiosity. Is this a spell? A trait common to your people, perchance? I should be joyed to speak with you about it later."

She flashed a smile and returned to the more pressing topic at hand. "I agree with Marita. Some of us are rent about the edges and I have a venomous suspicion that we will want badly for any spellwork which would otherwise be dedicated to knitting flesh. A safe place of rest, if for a short time, would be delightful." Her cloak was already removed and shaken out, hanging over the back of a nearby chair. It seemed that she was hoping the answer was already decided, and to the positive.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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

Okay, update has been updated. A couple of things:

1) Yes, that stealth roll screwed everyone. The NPC was able to Persuade/Intimidate to buy you all a minute or two. (ahem) From the townsfolk, at least.

2) @Remipa Awesome, Kathryn is able to find a couple of places to ditch the stabilized Guard. An empty barrel (if you don't mind folding him), unattended cart, and yes, a large refuse bin for the festival all become apparent as you make your way down the side streets to your destination. Pick one and fit it into your next post. And if you change your mind about ditching him, let me know beforehand, please.

3) I was operating under the assumption that the group was sticking together after all that has happened and was all headed to Neil & Bob's Public House. If anyone wishes to go elsewhere, let me know and I will get with you in our Discord.

4) The streets are still mostly empty, despite the festival. We all have a pretty good idea why.

Fine. That was four things. Sue me. As per usual, please get with me if you have any questions, roll requests, etc, in the Discord and/or by DMs. Thanks for continuing with our collaborative storytime, and welcome to the final act. Huzzah!

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Weather: Light rain, but with a growing chill.

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

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

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

*****

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

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

For just a second, time seemed to freeze.

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

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

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

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

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

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