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	[i]Request of the letter of summons penned by the good Sheriff seemed to have put Mona at a touch of unease. While she was certain that she had the paper, still in its envelope which yet bore both halves of its rubbery wax seal, this was proven to be less than wholly accurate. She excused herself, presumably to retrace her steps. Likewise, Jorlton reacheed into his doublet to retrieve his own paper. His face registered surprise and, in much the same manner as Mona, excused himself. His aura fadeed away as he removed himself from the building, eyes bright and watchful.[/i]

	The letters, passed one by one across the table and into the hands of the Sheriff of Avonshire, are given a more than fair amount of scrutiny. Perhaps moreso than is required from the one who initially penned them. During this time, there is a profound quiet which settled across the interior of The Infamous Pear, as if the whole of the establishment had taken and held a tentative breath, waiting for some unknown end to happen. The only sound one could hear was the occasional cracking and shifting of wood coming from the hearth fire. 

	Okay, that wasn't [i]entirely[/i] true. Noise filtered into the main room from kitchen, involving the clattering of pans and angry muttering of May, letting various vulgarities and accusatory thoughts fly free, such as, [color=darkgray]"..special orders! Ain't we fancy..."[/color], and [color=darkgray]"...told 'em all what's being served, but NoOoOoOO..."[/color], and just once, a muffled, [color=darkgray]"Hey! Out! Outta my kitchen!"[/color] followed by the sound of a hurled pot rebounding off of a hard surface. 

	Mr. Guido Laurel looked back in the direction of the kitchen with a horrified expression on his face, hoping against hope that the Pear's patrons aren't paying particularly close attention to the sounds emanating from where their food had once come. This endeavor was doomed to failure. Behind the bar, Mr. Owen Hardy had plastered on a large, toothy grin, determined to ignore this fairly vulgar development with the hopes that it would go away. He polished another large, glass mug with a clean cloth, then helped himself to his own wares with unaccustomed vigor.

	Gregory took in and released a deep breath, seemingly resigned to the task before him. He lay the invitations down on the table before him in a fan-like pattern, broken seals facing up and openly visible. he does not sit at this time, instead shaking his head and committing himself to begin. His voice was rolling baritone, quiet but clear as he spoke: [color=darkgray][b]"Thank you for not objecting to the formality. I will try to keep my words plain, and answer any questions after. Now to business."[/b][/color]

	[color=darkgray][b]"I have heard whispers coming from the Avonshire Township about persons going missing. Some of them came back none the worse for wear, or so I hear. Some have not. People might decide to leave the country life in search of their fortunes; you [i]adventuring[/i] types know this, and others might simply find work with merchant caravans and the like. But something doesn't smell right about these reports."[/b][/color]

	It was a simple enough opening to the dilemma at hand. Gregory continued, [color=darkgray][b]"Of the ones who did return, none have said anything amiss about their time away. Went hunting, or just wanted to be alone, things like this. Again according to reports, they have been acting differently. Not quite themselves. What this means I could not say, as when I arrived to make a personal inquiry people were very hesitant to speak with me. That is unusual, of itself. I cannot justify committing soldiers to the area yet, even if we had many to spare. And the Constable in charge of the Township assures me that all is well. He is a cousin - well, cousin of my late wife's. I have no reason to doubt him, and yet, I do have my concerns. It seems like I am being left in the dark about something."[/b][/color] 

	Finally pulling a chair out, the Sheriff say wearily down and leaned forward onto the table. [color=darkgray][b]"It is possible that my career as a military man, and now with the law, have made me paranoid. I dislike adventurers; this is no secret. They bring problems almost as often as they bring solutions. I dislike even more that I am hampered by protocol when my people might be dying. Protocol to which you are not bound. So here is my offer: Investigate this. Officially, you are here as independent contractors, hired on because of problems with Goblins in the outlying areas. In truth, I want you to find out what is happening in the Township, and fix it if possible. If you do this, I will pay you each twenty gold coins of the realm, and supply you well enough to reach any destination within a fortnight's march of this place. Should you choose to decline, please stay at The Infamous Pear tonight as my guest. After a good breakfast tomorrow, depart with no ill tidings earned from me."[/b][/color] 

	He looked over to Victoria with an odd expression and nodded, adding, [color=darkgray][b]"I have spoken with your Bard while she was a guest of Fort Darenby's jail earlier today. We have come to an accord, and she assures me that the rest of you may have specific or special requests, too. If you do, I shall entertain them now."[/b][/color]

	Gregory leaned back in his chair and raised two fingers into the air. Within a few seconds, Guido was scrambled over with a large tankard of foamy ale for the elder Sheriff. [color=darkgray][b]"Thank you,"[/b][/color] he said quietly, palming the Halfling a coin. After a long sip, he looked to the people at the table expectantly.