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[h2][color=6ecff6][i][b]Hugh Caphazath[/b][/i][/color][/h2][i][b][color=6ecff6]Half-Elf, Monk (Way of Shadow), Level 3[/color][/b][/i]
[color=6ecff6][i][b]HP:[/b][/i][/color] 24/24	[color=6ecff6][i][b]Armor Class:[/b][/i][/color] 17	[color=6ecff6][i][b]Conditions:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[color=6ecff6][i][b]Location:[/b][/i][/color] Avonshire Township, Wine Delivery → Honey Barn
[color=6ecff6][i][b]Action:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[color=6ecff6][i][b]Bonus Action:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[color=6ecff6][i][b]Reaction:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
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[right][img]https://i.imgur.com/4a0uP44.png[/img][/right]
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The municipality building’s delivery proceeded without incident. The guards were unhelpful, but then again, it was hardly their job to get involved with the menial labor of deliveries. They were there to stop intruders and the like; it would hardly be reasonable to expect more from them than their paycheck demanded, especially given all the extra work they were already likely obligated to in this busy festive time. Not that it mattered much, since Kathryn seemed to have assigned herself to distributing the merchandise at each stop… with some aid from Marita. All told, Hugh was glad to have steered the group away from slighting them, however, as that passivity might not have remained otherwise.

Niel and Bob’s Public house was all too crowded for Hugh’s liking and the proprietor’s attitude didn’t much help matters. Granted, in the face of the man’s missing barmaids likely making life rather more difficult than he’d been expecting to deal with in an already stressful and busy time, that attitude could be forgiven somewhat. Didn’t mean Hugh was about to settle for a crowded common room where operational security might as well be a fleeting fantasy… to say nothing of sleeping in close quarters to numerous strangers. In the face of that objectively horrible option, Cicily’s offer of an otherwise unoccupied loft as lodgings came as a welcome surprise. It would hardly be the warmest or most comfortable place in the world, but he’d worked with worse in the past for longer stretches of time. A week in a hayloft? Yeah, he could work with that. [color=6ecff6]“The loft will suffice,”[/color] he said to Cicily. The rest of the group had already voiced a general inclination to accept as well, so he hardly saw any reason to be the voice of dissent.

The Farmer’s Market’s hustle and bustle was one Hugh was more than glad to have separated himself from somewhat, as he lounged in the back of the wine cart, keeping a light eye on the product within. Honestly, he wasn’t all that worried about anything actually being taken, as the barrels were large and quite heavy, certainly not something any random thief could make off with in plain sight of both the civilians around them and the group that was playing escort. Hugh paid perhaps less mind than he should to the Very Important Looking Gentleman that received the delivery at the market. In all honesty, he was quite socially burned out for the day, and he was more than happy to leave things to his compatriots for the time being. The talent show concerned him not in the slightest, and he was only all too happy to hear the Bard be shut down in that respect. The last thing they needed was pointless distractions.

The Trader’s Market delivery was something of a slog, one Hugh chose to ride out silently, even as Marita assisted… rather less than successfully, granted, their temporary employer in finding who needed the wine. He wasn’t local and had no real input or assertions to offer in regards to locating the delivery’s recipient. Instead, he chose to continue his vigil over the product to be offloaded. In the end, the recipient ended up being a halfling named “Jacques Mallard”. Strangely rough, despite being the person to take the wine, his apparent silversmithing business didn’t seem to being doing quite as well as one might expect for someone with the wealth to purchase a large amount of wine. Hugh couldn’t say if the silversmith being closed up was as a result -or in spite- of the festivities, but thankfully, Kathryn voiced the general question on his mind without him having to say anything.

The last stop, the “Honey Barn” turned out to be something of a more literal existence than Hugh had first imagined, but the proprietor that came out to meet them more than confirmed his suspicions about its purpose. Hugh silently observed from the back of the cart as introductions made the rounds. Unlike his fellows, however, he saw nothing good coming of jumping on the bandwagon. While a brothel was, admittedly, a shockingly effective source of information, it was quite easy for the overconfident or foolish to forget that such information gathering cut both ways. Any information they revealed about themselves was information that was for sale, plain and simple. So, while the rest of the party was introducing themselves, Hugh didn’t bother moving from his spot in the back of the wagon, laying with his eyes closed and head resting against his doffed backpack. He had nothing to say and no intention of revealing anything unnecessary at this juncture, especially not for free, and especially not to someone for whom information was likely a fair amount of power. Should the time come that they availed themselves of the Madame Marcie’s information gathering services, then he’d be inclined to a polite initial trade, but until then, he’d play it safe.