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	[u]Weather[/u]: Though the sun is now mostly blocked by a thick cover of clouds. This hasn't affected the temperature too much, but that breeze is becoming more noticeable. [i]Mostly Cloudy[/i] summarizes things pretty well. A note of dampness can be detected in the wind; cool humidity that chases the overcast sky, just as blanketing and omnipresent. 

	[u]Time[/u]: Mid to late morning still. While the illumination of a muted sun does not descend from directly overhead, it is closer to this point than to the horizon of its origin. 

	[u]Ambience[/u]: Oh, the tourists are back. Not quite in full force, but enough to make a piece of casual weekday business appear to be a solid payday shopping venture. Local businesses that are not directly catering to the festival overall are experiencing an uptick in business as well - mostly from people they know as locals who wish to get personal exchanges out of the way before tending to their own trades. The Farmers' Market is hopping, selling goods, harvested edibles, and performing services related to upkeep and travel maintenance. Those contestants preparing their barbecue are still at it, working in shifts to produce huge amounts of hogflesh with aromatics and sharp woodsmoke wafting about the greater area of the town. The Traders' Market is bustling at a good pace as well, accepting travel from the river and roadways both. Papers, pen, and the occasional abacus make their appearance as money and goods change hands - no great marketplace of a grand city's mercantile district, but it is fairly impressive for an agricultural community.  

	The tent and wagon campsites outside of town are less active, thanks to the ingress of these people into the Township's walls. Temporary roadside stands are still operating smoothly, hitting up those traveling toward the settlement proper as well as leaving it. It seems like a different country, almost, out here.  
 	 
[center][hider=Brindleton's Woodworking][img]https://i.ibb.co/BGhPhzv/Woodworker-Shop.png[/img][/hider][/center] 

	The interior of the shop was quiet, with only the occasional muted sounds coming in from the streets outside. Even then, only the more abrupt of noises really came through. This part of town did not cater to the festival, for the most part, so things stayed calm in comparison to other parts of town. Between the quiet and the still, open spaces of the building, one might feel that Marita and Victoria were quite alone. Even though the sun was hidden for the most part, the strategic placement of warehouse windows allowed the light of day came in well enough through to give a clear, unobstructed view of the whole interior. Those rare occasions that the clouds parted, it was positively brilliant inside. 

	The musings of what the clues might add up to seemed to echo within the hollow structure, giving pause to the moment. Words like [i]"Lycanthropy"[/i] were not merely tossed about in polite society. There was time enough to consider this piece of supposition, even partake in a little conversation about it, until a point when the sun broke through the clouds once more. This time, however, one of the brilliant shafts of light was infringed upon. 

	Marita was the first to notice it. Victoria remained ignorant until any change of expression or posture came from the Cleric. But just a sure as day, part of the window to the north of them was taken up by a pallid, grubby face. The face was deep within a ragged hood and belonged to a boy, who had pressed hands around and sides of his hood to better glimpse what went on inside. When his discovery was noted, he acquired the most startled of expression and fell back from the glass aperture. As the face disappeared, a respectable [i]thunk[/i] could be heard outside, followed by stomping footsteps retreating on the ground and gravel outside the building.

[center][hider=Madame Marcie's Honey Barn][h2][i][b][color=black]Image Not Unlocked Yet[/color][/b][/i][/h2][/hider][/center]

	Travel to The Honey Barn was crowded only at first, starting from the Silversmith's place. The commotion and fast exit of the two outsiders drew even more attention as many curious eyes and still feet gathered to see what new and juicy bits of gossip might be gleaned from this situation. Yes, there were stares. A Human woman taller than probably any man in this area and a Tiefling, rare enough and pointy-horned just like the illustrations in those storybooks that kids love so much, being kicked out of a building presumably locked, boarded up, and unattended. It drew attention. 

	Once one breaks past the gathering (which was beginning to create a bottleneck in the main thoroughfare), it is a clearer walk in the direction of The Honey Barn. As a matter of fact, the visible amount of people thins dramatically. The trek involves crossing the river, affording a decent view of the Traders' Market from a certain angle and the sporadic river traffic as well as the incoming road traffic from the east. This part of town does not seem to resonate with the festival crowd. Some of these buildings are obviously personal dwellings, but they seem quiet. Sleepy even, as if populated by very late risers or folk who wish to be left alone in the face of overwhelming festivities. There is a small copse of trees nearby, like a small park amid the residential structures

	Soon enough, the more familiar face of The Honey Barn can be picked out. Moving a little closer, it is apparent that they are very much not open for business. The streets here, such as they are, remain open and unpopulated with the following exceptions: 

	Two Humans wearing the attire of town guards and carrying spears were standing rather informally outside of the Honey Barn, just milling about impatiently. The main door cracks open just enough to allow a [url=https://i.ibb.co/Y3WW5hS/Cavendish.jpg]familiar figure[/url] to exit. He had a plain cloth coinpurse in hand, heavy with and said behind him, [color=darkgray][b]"Yeah. You tell your mistress I'm glad we got an understanding about things. It'd be a shame otherwise. You all are practically a landmark."[/b][/color] He jingled the money before shoving it into a pocket. [color=darkgray][b]"Hope you enjoy the rest of the festival."[/b][/color] That last remark was tinged with some sarcasm. 

	Constable Cavendish lay his hand on the head of his hammer, tucked away on his belt with a leather covering, causing the guards with him to reflexively flinch just a little. The three do not appear to have noticed those approaching quite yet, involved in their own business.