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	The sun had finally dropped below the horizon, leaving the world around you to slip into a hazy, misty night. The fog did not help much with visibility, either. While not the thick, hopelessly obscuring fog that it could be (and in fairness provides a lovely ambience), it does limit vision to one's immediate area. Darkvision is not helpful in this instance, either. This does not effect anyone who is still indoors, which means that Marita and Kathryn are in the clear, but Kosara in the Farmers' Market and Victoria at the Cemetery are under the effects of this more plainly.  

	The almost-full moon and colorful sky gave way to a cloudless night full of stars. It would be quite pretty for those who appreciate stargazing but otherwise doesn't help with visibility against the fog and torchlight. More disappointing for those attempting to gaze upon heavenly bodies is that they would have to find a higher elevation to truly appreciate what is otherwise a swirly myopic blur, again thanks to the fog.

	The temperature began to come down. It was slow at first, but as soon as the sky darkened it became obvious that Autumn was well advanced and the unseasonable cold that produced frost the previous night was coming back. With this dip of ambient warmth and lack of sunlight, the streets began to clear out. There were still enough people to give the appearance of a town with an active nightlife, though the numbers were not that of the hectic festival of midday. 

	As with the last update, the party finds itself in three places around the Township: Neil & Bob's Public House (which is still quite busy), the Farmers' Market (which is clearing out some, but not as much as the rest of the town), and the Cemetery (which is [i]always[/i] a great place to be in a D&D game at night amid a rash of disappearances). Let us continue. 

[center][hider=Neil & Bob's Public House][img]https://i.ibb.co/5vK80t3/N-B-ip.jpg[/img][/hider][/center]
 	The tumble of the one patron which so neatly deposited the beer onto Marita gave rise to a roar from the crowd, both applause and raucous laughter. Like most things happening in the epicenter of a region-wide celebration, it was given intense emotion one moment and moved away from the next, for whatever piece of diversion might come next. 

	Otherwise, Marita's work was fairly simple. Let it be stressed that [i]simple[/i] does not mean [i]easy[/i]. As uncomplicated as this was, there was a mystery as to how Lea did this by herself, and a testament to her experience plying her trade. It was a gift. However, Marita's grasp on the tasks at hand were good enough to net her a tidy sum in tips for her efforts. A new crop of mixed coins jangled in her apron pocket; coppers enough to equal four silver coins of the realm in addition to three actual silver coins from more generous and/or drunkenly heavy tippers. Such cash could really only come to a barmaid during a special event such as this one.

	A period of time that might be considered a lull creeps up. Business did not really slow down, but for a single shining, amazing moment, everyone's drink was full. People had stew in front of them, and while chatter was at an all-time high, nobody had a hand up at the tables and no one looked about with expectant eyes for someone to serve them. From inside the door to the kitchen, Lea waves her hands to get Marita's attention, then holds up two big bowls of stew with large chunks of bread resting partly submerged on top. The experienced barmaid jerks her head back toward the kitchen, motioning to follow.    

	Back at Kathryn's table, the trio of festival goers took her up on her offer to share the table, except for Smiley, who shook his head and wandered off to the bar to divest himself of some money for another pitcher of beer to place in front of the burly warrior lady, and one (of lesser quality) to split between his friends. At the table itself, the Ambitious one gave a gracious grin and motioned for Scowly to sit. Over the din of the Public House, he remarked, [color=darkgray]"Well now, you didn't have to do that. Your table, fair and square. Unless you got up, then I promise you we would have taken it before you got back from your first ale-piss."[/color] This sentiment was seconded by Scowly, whose face hadn't softened from the defeat just a moment ago, by nodding and muttering something in agreement. 

	Ever the talkative one, Ambitious continued, [color=darkgray]"Let's be friends. For the next hour or so, at least. My name is [i]Maurice[/i]. The happy guy bringing you back your beer right now is [i]Lawrence[/i], and the big, grumbly fellow here we call [i]Curly[/i]."[/color]

	When the beer arrived and was poured, Curly's demeanor seemed to have shifted a little toward being more sociable. [color=darkgray]"Yeah, rematch."[/color] He was very positive about it in very few words. [color=darkgray]"After this one,"[/color] he added while holding up his mug of beer, a caveat coming from a supposedly dry throat. The additional qualifier was added, [color=darkgray]"Loser buys next round."[/color]

	Lawrence clears his throat and gives a brief explanation that indeed, they were locals. The three of them had been kicking around the region as work came up for laborers, farming or otherwise, and in fact did a little brick work once upon a time to the repair the drainage under the town, and even a touch of teamster work for visiting merchants that took them all the way to the coast once. Mostly unskilled labor, but folks in the know were aware of their presence. 

	 [color=darkgray]"So how did you know about the festival, Miss Warrior (it is [i]Miss[/i], right)?"[/color] coming from Maurice. [color=darkgray]"And how were you able to find a room in town at this season? Most everything's booked a week out, unless you know someone."[/color]


[center][hider=Farmer's Market, Talent Show Area][img]https://i.ibb.co/rd69BHz/Harvest-Festival-Fr-Mkt.jpg[/img][/hider][/center]
	There are irregular light sources that allow for more or less reliable, unimpeded vision within their areas of illumination. Braziers are lit, as well as a couple of permanent campfire areas, giving variations of bright and dim light to cut through the foggy evening. The braziers are more for warmth than light, their red-orange coals glowing quietly to cut through the dampness and chill of the ambient air, assisted by torches and oil lamps where possible. What might lurk beyond the reach of their light remains up to the imagination. 

	There are still quite a few people wandering about here, laughing, drinking, or getting something to eat. This is also a place where many of the working class would set up for the night in canvas tents with slightly raised wooden floors. Some were settling in for the night on cots or hammocks, others were preparing their evening meals over communal fires. Still others were plying wares at lowered prices to the locals from their own wagons, stewpots, or tents. Some popular spots had small barrels, crates, and boxes for seats out in the open while steaming, mulled wines, tea, and other hot beverages were being distributed. Conversations here were garrulous and open, while rumors were being discussed aloud. As mentioned before, this is a place for the common folk to have their own party. 

	Toward the western side of the area, the scent of seasoned woodfires wafted, along with the telltale scent of searing and roasting swineflesh. It was moderately and evenly lit against the night, and was the busiest part of the area. Teams of people were getting dug in for a very long session of the incredibly slow preparation of pork, and all that which might accompany it, for the next day.  

	The people of the Talent Show didn't seem to be done yet. For the night, yes. In total, no. Several people were declared to have moved on to the finals, to be held around dusk the following evening. Their barrel of very fancy wine was still around, being kept relatively safe until it can be awarded to the winner. 

	And finally, walking among the folk of the land, there was a lone figure in common clothes with a big, floppy hat and simple sandals. One might think this person might be put off by the temperature on account of his modest attire, but a cheery smile matched equally optimistic blue eyes as he walked along, a stout fishing pole in one hand resting across his shoulder. As he neared Kosara, he paused. [color=darkgray][i]"Mornin'!"[/i][/color] he greeted, continuing with, [color=darkgray][i]"Nice day for fishin', ain't it? Huah hah!"[/i][/color] before continuing his determined stride elsewhere. 

	Beppo, The Amazing Crying Man, leads Kosara (and in truth very obviously wants to be seen with her on his arm) over to one of the more poplar spots near a brazier and procures from a canvas storefront two wooden cups of steaming, spiced wine. He initiates a pleasant enough continuation to their conversation, eventually leaning in to explain, [color=darkgray][i]"Just sometimes, I dab a little mint extract under by eyes. Gets 'em started, at least."[/i][/color] He was very quiet, almost at a whisper. Placing one finger across his lips, he reiterates, [color=darkgray][i]"But don't go telling nobody."[/i][/color]
   

[center][hider=Cemetery][img]https://i.ibb.co/NySPg5W/cemetery-silhouette-vector.jpg[/img][/hider][/center]
	[color=darkgray]"Monsieur L'Rose once ate a whole jar of pepper jelly on a dare. The [i]Rentman[/i] stuff."[/color] proclaims one man, only lightly addled by drink. This was generally accepted by the congregation as a whole. 

	[color=darkgray][i]"Yeah!"[/i][/color] says another, [color=darkgray][i]"Standing on his head!"[/i][/color] A couple of laughs from this one, though it wasn't the funniest thing to say. 

	[color=darkgray][b]"Big man with the ladies in his youth!"[/b][/color] states yet another, [color=darkgray][b]"Used to ask 'em to dance two or three at a time, he did!"[/b][/color]

	[color=darkgray][i]"Yeah!"[/i][/color] came a shouted agreement from a couple others. They were finally getting this game. Every third proclamation was followed up by a toast in his name, along with mighty shouting  of [color=darkgray][i]"MONSIEUR L'ROSE!"[/i][/color]

	Full circle this ran around and around, finally getting to a point where one man shouts above the din of his fellows, [color=darkgray]"And he wore a blue ribbon around his tallywhacker, because he said it ALWAYS won first prize!"[/color] This was followed by a roar of laughter and continued chanting of, [color=darkgray][i]"MONSIEUR L'ROSE!"[/i][/color] A few of them suddenly began to feel self-conscious of their antics, owing to the presence of little Lizbeth, which began to bring the mood down a little bit. 

	Meanwhile, the young girl had asked for and acquired Victoria's slim-fitting purple coat from Cecily, and wrapped it around her shoulders to ward off a bit of the foggy night's chill. It looked like a dress on her. This kind of boisterous activity wasn't unknown to either Cecily nor her young charge. They came from wine folk; growers, vintners, merchants, and imbibers, all. And owing to the deity lauded by the former family patriarch, such roguishness was expected. [color=darkgray][i]"At least he didn't follow Ela,"[/i][/color] Cecily muttered. 

	Overall, the fog wasn't quite as annoying as one might assume out from behind the walls. It was thicker, heavier, and threatened to make uneven ground perilous, but the torches brought by the people of Avonshire as well as the lanterns from the Gravedigger did much to provide visibility. There was a cost, though, as the fog obliterated any chance of sight past the range of the torch fires. This seemed to bother nary a soul above ground nor below in this particular cemetery. Alcohol flowed, merriment was had, and the late Monsieur L'Rose was getting a lively, if not factually accurate, sendoff. 

	The disarticulated skeleton remained wrapped in canvas, nestled at the bottom of the hole provided for it. Whether the deceased approved of the party going on above his bones or not, they weren't telling.