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	Weather: Remains cold, just above freezing. The air is still, interspersed with occasional light winds. The fog remained thick and buttery, spread liberally across the grand slice of toast that was Avonshire. 

	Far above the Township, beyond the reach of the fog and yet still visible (though diffused) through it, a waxing gibbous moon looms large in the nighttime sky. The temporary villages and family clusters of campsites outside of the walls; tents and wagons of many varieties, began to settle in more solidly for the night. Fires burned low. There was a great sense of finality overtaking the outside of the walls. Inside, the number of people on the street was now vastly reduced. Lamps were allowed to burn out in many places, leaving dim light in the few remaining parts of town where people were still active. 
  
	Again, many of these details will not be readily available to persons who remain indoors, though reasons and excuses are abound for stepping out to get some night air. Then again, there are a number of good reasons to keep yourselves inside, so, follow your bliss on that one. 
	
[center][hider=Neil & Bob's Public House][img]https://i.ibb.co/5vK80t3/N-B-ip.jpg[/img][/hider][/center]
	At this point in time, things are becoming stable in Bob's little slice of heaven. Not slow, persay, but the hectic pace from earlier had mellowed considerably. No new patrons have entered the establishment in a while, and anyone without a designated place to it and relax had filed out. Tables were mostly full and no one was ordering food anymore, though calls for refills were commonplace. About half of the barstools were open, the other half claimed by locals, and Robert used this opportunity to begin some spot cleaning. The classic image of an older barkeep wiping down his profession's ubiquitous horizontal surface of smooth, polished wood (or a "bar", for you purists) with a damp rag was represented adequately his hour. 

	Back in the kitchen, the meal between Lea, Daisy, and Marita had concluded. There was general agreement with Marita's sentiment about getting back out to the taproom floor. Daisy took the dishes from their meal and went back over to her workstation, climbed up onto her stepping-stool, and got back to her cleaning duties. On the way out, Lea noted the lessened business with a weary smile and said to her temporary co-worker, [color=darkgray]"Oh! This is much better. Marita, if you want to hang up your apron, I can handle this. If you don't, that's fine too. I've got enough in tips over the last couple of days to live on for the rest of the month. You're not stepping on my toes, either way."[/color] 

	The center table saw a little more action as Curly rose suddenly, despite the possible head injury and definite wound to his pride, and announced in a loud, clear, only slightly warbling voice that he needed to relieve himself. Of course, this came out as an announcement of, [color=darkgray]"I GOTTA MAKE SPRINKLES!"[/color] before he hauled ass for the door. Larry followed at Maurice's silent encouragement, to make sure he didn't fall headlong into the hole over which the outhouse stood.   

	At the bar, Robert noticed Kathryn and Rickard, though his business was mainly with the (sort of) [i]"Half-Giant"[/i]. He deposited the ale requested in front of her, swiftly followed by the glass of wine in front of the Elf, the latter of which he looked over with a suspicious eye, then came back with a decanter filled with a heady, red wine. [color=darkgray][b]"Your new friend wanted a flagon of 'the good stuff', [i]Lady Kathryn[/i]? Well here ya go. He's going to be paying for it, too."[/b][/color] Some common cups were plunked down next to the container of what was likely to be very good wine. Robert slid the money paid thusfar off of the bar, and went about his business. 

[center][hider=Farmer's Market, Talent Show Area][img]https://i.ibb.co/rd69BHz/Harvest-Festival-Fr-Mkt.jpg[/img][/hider][/center]   
	Beppo's face turned to mild disappointment as Kosara wrapped up their time in a neat little bow and gave him a quick hug. He had little more to do than wave at the departing Tiefling, tap the last couple drops of mulled wine into his mouth, and saunter over to a gathering of locals where stew of some kind was being prepared. All things considered, it was a pretty good night for the old fellow. In very short order, Kosara's form was swallowed up by the darkness and fog, leaving the slowing actions of the Farmers' Market to their own devices. 

[center][hider=The Hayloft][img]https://i.ibb.co/hWRvhS4/Hay-Barn.jpg[/img][/hider][/center]
	The interior of the hayloft is quiet and calm, if a bit dark. The exterior, however, is a touch brighter. This is one of the better lit parts of town, thanks to the fact that it is across the street diagonally from Neil & Bob's, even though it is best described as dim illumination. There are a few people out here as well, each in varying stages of drunkenness. Mostly they keep to themselves. Mostly. Being men of the region and alcohol a factor, it is only a matter of time before they might note the presence of unfamiliar, apparently unattended women with aesthetic qualities far grander than to which they are accustomed. Words unbecoming of a gentleman would follow shortly thereafter. 

	One point to break the possible tension comes in the form of a rather large fellow staggering out of the establishment, screaming something about needing to make "sprinkles", followed by a more level-headed chap who appears to have his best interests in mind. 

	The stable directly across the street is closed up for the evening, and appears to have been for quite some time. From the look of it, it would not take a lot to enter the premises anyway were they determined enough to do so.