[color=steelblue]"Hup-"[/color]

Bromwell took a short deep breath, squatted down and took the last Guild crate into his wide blue arms. This one was particularly heavy- Tins of paint? Tar for the Guild building's cracks and crannies? It was probably just bottles of some-or-other ointment. Nothing burned through medical supplies quite like a guild's worth of explorers, not in Nockwood or for many miles around. Bromwell personally had gone through more bandages in the last twelve months than the average paddy-farming Politoed would need in a decade.

[color=steelblue]"-hoof!"[/color]

He set the crate down in the loading area under a little wooden shed in the Guild's shadow, next to the day's orders of sugar, lamp oil, and straw. There was a ramp under the roof that led directly up into the Storage Area's back door, but much of this stuff would go straight into the kitchen. Most of the rest of the Guild's everyday bulk supplies lived here just about permanently. Last Bromwell had heard, the back door to the Storage Area had been firmly rusted shut.

That was probably for the better.

[color=steelblue]"Mornin', Rosalinda. Good day, rookie. Who dented the wall?"[/color] Bromwell aired his questions cheerily to his fellow bruisers as he rolled his shoulders and scanned the hall for any sign of a belligerent Sylveon. [color=steelblue]"Any special news today? I could hear the quartermistress yellin' all the way from the river. Right down the river, too, I may add."[/color] In a few seconds he'd bumbled his way down to the noticeboard and squinted at it over the sparky Pachirisu's tail. [color=steelblue]"Mornin' Apri- oh, and you too, Clay. Good to see ya join in."[/color]

Any call-outs to Foggy Lake? 

Bromwell [i]loved[/i] Foggy Lake.