[hr][center][@Zverda] [color=thistle]Anala Attor[/color][/center][hr][color=thistle]"What in the world is going on here?"[/color] Anala asked with a hint of disgust in her voice as she dismounted her stead and went to check on the boy, [color=thistle]"Are you ok? Anything hurt?"[/color] She looked the boy over, though she was not particularly spectacular with medicine, she wanted to do her best to ensure that he was ok, hoping that she could at least do that much for him. She hated when people harmed children, what she hated more was when parents sold their children for what appeared little more than a simple pastry.

[color=thistle]"Is this something your parents normally do? Have they sold others to that hag for whatever it was she is feeding them?"[/color] She inquired as she continued her inspection, he appeared fine, or at least as far as her limited knowledge could tell her. Who knew if something in that bag had actually done any real harm to the boy other than the boy himself.[hr]
[color=fff79a]"I am fine."[/color]

The boy sputtered, sprinkling a flowered choke with chirping words.

[color=fff79a]"She only takes kids that have feelings."[/color] Another cough granted further evacuation of his airway. [color=fff79a]"Grandma's cakes give happiness not just to my parents but to everyone here."[/color]

Then, a petition with a subsequent kneel evolved into a crying fiasco, before the Grave Jester's vessel.

[color=fff79a]"But, I don't want to work in Bonegrinder."[/color]

Sniff.

[color=fff79a]"This time. Please. Take me with you!"[/color]

While the intercession was being contemplated by Zaerith, Morgantha stowed away the golden tendril, walked slowly to her cart, and eventually pulled the tapestry slighty to reveal a bulging mincemeat pie. A few steps and a crouch later, the delicacy was placed on a clean handkerchief, next to the child. She cleared her throat, then attempted to calm her apparent grandson.

[color=ed145b]"Who will help my sisters and I make all these treats to fester joy amongst all? But Lucian, do not worry; if you do not want to come, I completely understand."[/color]

The progeny of Jarov and Nalkainen swiveled and arched his head back, to glance at the old woman.

[color=fff79a]"Really?"[/color] Sniff.

The peddler replied. [color=ed145b]"Of course." [/color]

With a verdant twinkle in her solitary eye, the crone petted the prepubescent Barovian awkwardly, only, for a moment, to return to her wares, with hood now down, pushing the cart slothfully through Anala's webbing, towards the East.

[hr][center][@Zverda] [color=thistle]Anala Attor[/color][/center][hr]Anala watched the woman closely as she took a lock of the child's hair and started off with her cart, there was nothing about that woman that did not scream magic. It bled through everything she seemed to do as well as everything she carried, that Grandmother was not normal yet she also seemed to be trying to help the people in this village, even if it was in a rather shady way. This thought alone stopped the woman from simply trying to strike the old woman down with a bolt of fire. The necklace the woman was wearing was also a rather interesting one, though she said nothing about it to the others, same went for the pastries, it was clear that there was an addictive property to them. Out of all the things she had however, the bag was the most interesting. She could sense something about it that made her skin crawl, why would she need such magic and why on earth would she put the child inside of it? That made absolutely no sense to her, while this child may not have been willing, did she put those who were in the bag as well rather than just having them walk with her? Wouldn't it be harder for her to carry a child at her age than just have the child walk beside her?

[color=thistle]"Something about all this is a bit fishy,"[/color] she muttered, mostly to herself.

[hr][center][@BCTheEntity] [color=deepskyblue]Talran Galelove – Medium Friendly Paladin[/color][/center][hr]Relinquished, indeed. So far as Talran could tell, crone and boy both were telling the truth - Bonegrinder was truly an awful place, and yet the child had just been relinquished from the fate of... making mincemeat pies. How queer, then, that Morgantha insisted upon taking a lock of Lucian's hair... and indeed, if it was so that Morgantha's pastries were such wondrous things, why was it that the streets were clear of people? And... what of that mournful howling in the distance? Did the cries of the far-off woman have anything to do with the grandmother? Could it be that the citizens were avoiding her on purpose, then?

Come to mention it, she was pushing that cart most adroitly for a woman of her age. He'd expect her to be quite weak, and yet despite the size of the hand-pushed vehicle, she wasn't even out of breath. The cart alone ought to be at least a hundred pounds; if any children were furthermore contained within, it'd be that much heavier. And on that note, he grew suspicious all over again. Rather than simply letting her go, he had his steed trot beyond her again, ready to move into her path if she tried anything funny.

[color=deepskyblue]'If you wouldn't mind my asking, then, grandmother,'[/color] Talran continued to question, assured that Zaerith... may had the child in safe hands, [color=deepskyblue]'what do the children do, exactly, in Bonegrinder? One would imagine skilled, adult hands would be more suited for the process of piemaking?'[/color] Not that he knew anything about making pies. He just figured, adults were often more skilled than children simply because they were older. It was common sense.[hr]