[center]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/center][center][img]https://i.ibb.co/vXD6Q0t/Update-Text.png[/img][/center][center]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/center][center][img]https://i.ibb.co/VpHzK5s/Avonshire-Township.jpg[/img][/center][center]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/center] [u]Weather[/u]: Chilly, but a little more hospitable than an hour prior. [u]Time[/u]: Morning! Early morning, just past dawn. [u]Ambience[/u]: Still foggy. From the looks of things though, this is apt to change soon. The sun has asserted itself more prominently in the sky, bathing the Township of Avonshire with steady, pale light. The cold's edge has been blunted, as has the soupy thickness of the fog. Because of this, vision is significantly less restricted. There is a sheen of frost along most hard surfaces, windows, and anything still within the shadow of structures which the sun has not yet touched. It is autumn in Avonshire, which has come to mean cold nights and cool but milder days, even if the transition from one to the other takes a couple hours. The exhalations of the earlier risers on the streets condenses and wisps away in billowy masses, giving the appearance of smoke or the like. A pair of children accompanying their father to his business take advantage of this, scrambling with boundless energy to pretend that they are dragons in flight, having at one another with their scorching breath. With no clear winner to their imaginary aerial duel, they enter a nearby structure, promising one another to pick back up where they left off the next morning. Emanating from the Farmers' Market is the most encouraging scent of pork fat and woodsmoke, elements of seasoning jumbling together, all as the wind sees fit to send a gust in your direction. The pitmasters of the region are apparently still at their craft in anticipation of the event later this day. It is a welcome contrast to the more acrid smells of early morning industry, such as livestock and tanners' crafts, for example. The sound of a hammer hitting metal can be heard across the thoroughfare from the Hayloft and next door to the Public House - the [i]Fields Stable and Farrier[/i] appears to be open for business. Another early riser, it seems. The same Human who accepted the mule and wagon seems to be fitting a horseshoe first thing in the morning, his simple forge in the front of the establishment having come to life and providing ample heat for the veteran tradesman to ply his trade in relative comfort. [center][hider=Neil & Bob's Public House][img]https://i.ibb.co/5vK80t3/N-B-ip.jpg[/img][/hider][/center] The highly toothsome smells of fresh bread and searing, smoky meat waft out of the kitchen of Neil & Bob's. This has positive effects on some of the boarders, negative effects on others. One can tell who those are very quickly. As a few shuffle out of the common sleeping area, rubbing sleep from their eyes, others still make a more or less civilized beeline for the door, going to parts unknown or parts very known to vent foulness from themselves birthed of overindulgence the night before. These factors make for a very subdued setting within the Public House. Perhaps three of the table are occupied, and sparsely. Robert isn't immediately available in the taproom, nor is Daisy (though sounds of labor come from the kitchen that suggests her presence there). Lea is around, however, looking fairly haggard as if she did not get the fullest night of sleep she might have liked. The tavernlady moves to take orders for a simple breakfast - this is not a menu sort of place - for fare that [i]almost[/i] borders on middle-class. The bread is fresh and steamy hot, having just come from an oven a recently. The call for Bacon is responded to with strips of seared, heavily smoked pork; about as close to bacon as one might get without actually being sliced fatback. [color=darkgray]"Oh, Mister Elf, sir,"[/color] Lea began in response to Rickard's order, [color=darkgray]"Eggs are a special order. I'll see what I can do."[/color] A credit to her profession of hospitality, she does return with good news about eggs, and after a few minutes more she returned with the requested ovoid delights. Otherwise, the simple nature of the business kept their food selections to a dense, local bread, butter, gravy, smoked pork, tea, and water. Wine and ale were present upon request, though it might be considered a bit early to hang a buzz around one's head. Apples and pears were available as well; the apples looked in better condition than the pears. The food was [i]very[/i] simple, well prepared, and mildly seasoned - excellent for those with un-elaborate tastes. Relative warmth waited for those entering the establishment, though it was not the only place one might go that hour.