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	[i]A brisk wind whipped up, but only for a moment. Half a moment, really. This weather seemed a little temperamental now that the sun was high in the bright, azure sky. The day had warmed decently, maybe even to the point of being comfortable in comparison to the frost-bearing night previous, though that wind cut through thinner clothing like a muffled gust of glacial breath. So long as the air kept still, it was actually a rather pleasant afternoon. Past the dip in the road, trees began to thin out, granting better view of the lands around which began to take their more expected view of broad, rolling rises with shallow clefts, dotted with the occasional copse of deciduous trees with an odd evergreen or two reminding them of days more verdant, and promising for its return after the months to come. 

	After a short while, cresting a higher hill brought with it the first signs of non-agrarian civilization - a boundary wall made of rough-hewn logs reaching skyward, set to nestle together as a fortification capable of keeping out wildlife and give security to those within. Three great roads intersect at this town; the one you travel upon from the south, one from the east, and one from the west. A great wooded area as far as the eye can see stretches behind the Township, to the north. Cutting through the town to one side is a running river. The walls are built to accommodate its flow, working with it rather than struggling against, as if the river had a part to play in the town's operation. It pauses briefly to form a small lake just outside of town before meandering elsewhere in the region. 

	Notable upon your approach is a fortified sign of black iron and rich wood which labeled this place as [b]The Township of Avonshire[/b]. This place stood as the true start to your adventures in the region, beckoning with its quaint rural charm mixed with a bustle of an active settlement. 

	Though it has been said before, it bears repeating: [b]Welcome to Avonshire[/b].[/i]

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	Let's get a little business out of the way first, shall we? 126 silver coins were looted from the Goblin's corpses. A total of 11 daggers, 4 shortswords, 2 shortbows, and three empty quivers were also recovered (minus that which was already claimed by characters), so far as weapons went. Also on the bodies but not taken were sets of leather armor that were best left with the corpses. Curiously, there was also a long letter written upon several sheets of coarse vellum, wrapped in leather. The language is not familiar to anyone in the party. Also found among and around the ashes of the fire were a handful of metal coat buttons, likely from the clothing of the deceased. 

	Farms, both large and small, are more common along the road and visible among the hills surrounding the Township. They become more closely packed the nearer one gets to the town proper, but none directly adjacent or connecting to Avonshire. This clear but unutilized land, probably originally a protective feature, has become host to many tents and organized campsites in the interim. Wagons appear to be used as temporary lodging for a number of people. Families hung laundry on hastily improvised lines, merchants sold fruit, bread, potatoes, etc. to the masses, and teamsters established roped boundaries for their animals in these places. The smell of cookfires and stews mixed with upturned earth and horseflesh in this area, establishing all of the sensations common to human habitation with the exception of the more acrid aromas of industry. There was the overall feel of a great event gearing up in the near future - one which could draw a crowd from all over the region.  

	Just to the east of the Township and near the forested area to the north stood a graveyard, likely the largest one in the area. It featured a few scattered trees, mausoleums of fitted stone, and the ubiquitous rows of granite or marble gravemarkers, down to simple wooden affairs. A wrought-iron fence surrounded the whole of it. 

	A huge banner reached across the southern gate into the Township, clearly printed letters standing out so that it can be read easily from a great distance. It read, "Harvestide", and it was a safe bet that similar ones were hung across the other gates. This was a word the party had heard mentioned in snatched of conversation among the tent-dwellers they passed by, and was actually mentioned with some importance by official folk back in Darenby. The other gates had a moderate amount of traffic entering and exiting, laden with goods in the form of crates, bushels, and no small amount of barrels. The road from the south (your road) seems blessedly empty. No traffic coming from the same direction as yourself, and no traffic exiting Avonshire headed south.  

	The approach to the southern gate was relatively open. A few permament buildings stood outside of the walls, technically part of the town and likely for specific prupose. The gate itself was flung open wide to admit whomever wished entry, with two guards were stationed there as a token presence to sort out the extremely obvious in the way of troublemakers. Naturally, a group of mismatched, combat ready persons in a caravan of two, bearing Goblin ears on a string no less, did draw attention. 

	As an example of the unexpected but apparently benign, a man wearing common clothing, simple sandals, and a wide brim hat of natural fibers approaches from the area near the lake. He has a few smallish to medium sized fish on a line carried in one hand, and a stout fishing pole slung over one shoulder. Cheery of disposition, he walks right by the wagons, pausing only long enough to issue a salutation: [color=darkgray]"G'mornin! Nice day for fishing, ain't it?"[/color] followed immediately by a chuckle of, [color=darkgray]"Huah huh!"[/color] He does not stop for response, but continues merrily on his way into town. 

	Just inside of the gate, a bustle of activity which had nothing to do with merchant traffic nor the upcoming Harvestide could be witnessed. A group of maybe twenty men, mostly commoners from the look of them, stood boasting and reassuring one another of their solid masculinity, despite the nervous looks of many. Their presence blocked off any more forward movement from the wagons, forcing a full stop. They were armed with simple spears and the like, except for three of them who actually appeared to be professional fighting men of some sort. Leading them was a [url=https://i.ibb.co/Y3WW5hS/Cavendish.jpg]lean fellow[/url] possessing a hard set to his eyes, grey sharply influencing the once sandy brown hair of the man. He wore a shortsword at his side, and carried a noteworthy, well crafted warhammer that he held with familiar reverence. Speaking to this man were two women, [url=https://i.ibb.co/ZcP2js9/Cecily-L-039-Rose.png]one[/url] a woman of maturity with a worried, shocked expression and [url=https://i.ibb.co/r6gpLzw/Lizbeth-L-Rose.jpg]the other[/url] no more than thirteen or fourteen of age. The older of the two suddenly looked to the group and pointed, calling out, [color=darkgray][i]"There it is! Constable Cavendish, there it is! Oh, praise be to the Light!"[/i][/color] 

	Just as relieved but a little more pragmatic, the younger asked aloud, [color=darkgray]"Is Grandpa with them, Auntie? Can you see him?"[/color] Relief appeared to be contagious, as many of the men huffed out great sighs and muttered not-so-silent platitudes to whomever was listening above that they didn't have to go out looking for diminutive green bandits, armed with whatever cheap militia weapons were issued to them. 

	The Auntie of the pair opened her mouth to answer the young lady, but was instead cut off by the man in charge. [color=darkgray][b]"Don't you worry, child. I already told you everything will be alright, so, [i]I[/i] am going to see for myself. Don't you move."[/b][/color] Constable Cavendish sauntered up to the wagons with a practiced swagger, patting the head of his very spiffy hammer with the palm of his hand for emphasis of his air of authority. 

	Whereas the younger lady did not move, the older followed along behind Cavendish. Eyes went to all of those visible in the party, hovering briefly over the string of Goblin ears. He paused, letting any wrong impression that might have crept up do so, then cleared his throat and began, [color=darkgray][b]"I'm Cavendish, [i]Constable[/i] of the Avonshire Township. I want all of you to please step out in the open and tell me what happened. 'Cause, it [i]looks[/i] like we got us some heroes here. Now, heroes are welcome in my Township, but I got to make sure. So..."[/b][/color] He leaned his hammer over his shoulder and cocked his head to one side, [color=darkgray][b]"You good, law abiding folk who did a good turn, or did you just kill some bandits and take their plunder for yourselves? Speak up now. What's your business here?"[/b][/color] 

	Trying to give some softness to the otherwise scratchy situation, the lady behind Mr. Cavendish spoke up, saying, [color=darkgray][i]"I'm sure they're just lovely people, sir."[/i][/color] and then to the group, [color=darkgray][i]"Hello there, um, I'm Cecily L'Rose. That's my niece Lizbeth back there, and, if you're okay with it, I would like to talk to you after the Constable. We're so happy to see you, really."[/i][/color] Nervous and uncertain smiles came from both Cecily and Lizbeth, unsure themselves if they were talking to good folk or bloodthirsty mercenary types, yet willing to give the benefit of the doubt - to an extent. 

	Cavendish shot a look back at her, but soon returned his attention to the group. His eyebrow raise was practically insisting on answers.