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	[u]Weather[/u]: The sky is darkening. Once merely overcast, the clouds are beginning to make good on their threat of rain. The temperature hovers somewhere around 50[sup]o[/sup]F (10[sup]o[/sup] C), meaning that the incoming precipitation has actually brought with it some slightly warmer air. But speaking of that precipitation; it is asserting itself a little bit more. Those first few drops turned into a scattered handful, and it feels very much like the bottom is going to drop out at any moment. A brief crackle of electricity far above was followed by a staccato of crisp thunder, giving what might have been the last warning to the people of Avonshire to seek shelter.  

	[u]Time[/u]: Fast approaching noon, though it might be difficult to tell without supporting details as the sun is not exactly showing itself. The Township is in the throes of a potentially messy midday. 

	[u]Ambience[/u]: The word of what had transpired on the western thoroughfare has not circulated all the way around town yet, but people are running and rumors aplenty are diffusing from Ground Zero, ever moving outward. It is a very short matter of time before news of the horror fills the whole of the walls. 

	The overall celebration, even in the places which did not have a front row seat to the sudden transformation of a street urchin into something not quite human, had began to take a premature hiatus. The oncoming weather was a huge part of it, yes, but the overall thought that there were still a few days left in Harvestide. Plus, it have people the excuse to bring the party indoors where coin could be spent by a captive audience.  

	While word of the happenings had already reached the Farmers' Market, it didn't seem to stop anyone there from going about their business. The more than occasional farming implement that might double as a defense tool in a pinch found their way into the hands of laborers, maybe even a hunting bow or two, and the whole of them were a hair more vigilant. However, much as the old saying goes, The Show Must Go On. The ones smoking and curing pigs weren't dissuaded by the possibility eventual death and/or dismemberment. The barbecue would continue, barring extreme environmental upheaval. More pavilion style tents went up, people stayed close to their spots. 

	Over in the Traders' Market, things were wrapping up. Most of the imports has shown and been offloaded, empty boats and carts filled and moved out, and fewer folk might be seen here. When word of the event across town reached them, what few remained decided to become even fewer. Some of the less daunted kept around this place, not wishing to lose out off of purely a rumor.  

	Outside of the walls, the travellers' tiny, makeshift villages grew a little smaller. Vehicles and animals began to exit the area, though not in a mass exodus. May others are holding fast and getting ready to receive weather. And the unknown.



[center][hider=Township Thoroughfare][img]https://i.ibb.co/MBMn2JN/Overcast-Township.jpg[/img][/hider][/center]
	Fat drops of rain plummeted earthward. Not in any great amounts at this time, but individual deliveries of moisture smacked upon the stones of the main thoroughfare and broadened to the size of flat silver coins, dotting the otherwise dry way. A commotion is upon the immediate area, with voices in many directions declaring variations of what they had just witnessed. This will undoubtedly add to the already swirling rumormill, provided things work out as anything which might be considered positively. 

	Most of the people on the street have understandably found other things to do, and/or suddenly remembered a pressing engagement elsewhere. The one man who spoke in such an accusatory manner before stood there dumbly for a moment, a little confused as to why he was so quickly dismissed by the words of support earlier before remembering the situation and exiting with haste, while the woman who mentioned that she knew who the unfortunate boy was could be seen moving in the general direction that she saw him scramble off. Foot traffic became scarce. Animals and carts picked up the pace. Faces could be seen from windows, peering about as if to spy upon any aftershocks of drama. 

	Notably at this time, the only ones who aren't moving in a direction or another at the side of this once busy street are a single Human, Dragonborn, Half-Elf, and an animated, preserved hog, each. 	  


[center][hider=Madame Marcie's Honey Barn][img]https://i.ibb.co/4YSVFKX/Madame-Marcie-s-Honey-Barn.jpg[/img][/hider][/center]
	[color=darkgray][b]"You're not in your home, [i]Tiefling[/i]. You're in mine. You are not the law. I am. The more you mercenary types understand this, the fewer of you I have to humiliate."[/b][/color] This was spoken with a sharp take of breath, almost at a hiss. Cavendish composed himself quickly and returned to his faux smile. Obviously ignoring most of what Kosara had to say, Cavendish stuck to one point that she had made. [color=darkgray][b]"Work, huh? Yeah, I hear Marcie pays [i]her girls[/i] well.[/b]"[/color] It was not in a supportive nor informative tone that he made this declaration.   

	Movement by the Kathryn and Kosara toward the Honey Barn was blocked by the other guards for about a second before the Constable gestured to his men to let them pass. [color=darkgray][b]"No, if they don't want to talk, that's fine. Let's go find the pretty one and the one that moonlights as a bar wench. See how they like conversation. Bye, now. You [i]will[/i] be seeing me around."[/b][/color]

	The interior of The Honey Barn looked like a picture of many taverns across the realms, except for the main central stage. And the different levels with more secluded sections. And the curtains which could be pulled across many different locations for privacy. And the exceptionally loud colors. Okay, so this doesn't look like the picture of many taverns, except for the presence of a bar and places to sit. There isn't a whole lot of time for a proper look around, as the young woman who let you in calls for the [url=https://i.ibb.co/jZKXnL5/Madame-Marcie.jpg]Lady of the House[/url] immediately. [color=darkgray]"Oh yes, dearie, let them in; let them in now."[/color] There is a hint of urgency to her voice, even if it was hidden under a cultured accent and air of projected nonchalance. 

	Madame Marcie was a Halfling, dressed in attire which looked as if designed to give the expected appearance of a woman of urban sophistication. It was almost a costume. Her raven hair was done up for height - and speaking of height, she stood just as tall as she did before, which put her taller than most Halflings one might have the occasion to meet. Her footsteps rang out hollow upon the cobblestone flooring as she approached. [color=darkgray]"I shall be happy to give the two of you a grand tour here in a little bit, but for now, please lay low. The Constable just left and he does so like to linger..."[/color] A thought seemed to cross her mind briefly before she spoke again, [color=darkgray]"Whyever are the two of you here so early? We don't open for a long while, yet. Hours. I'm afraid I don't have a thing for you to do, nor a client to entertain at all."[/color]

	The place seemed to be in a very lull state. Some women were cleaning up, others restocking or repairing things. More were working on choreographed dance steps, simple though they might be. [color=darkgray]"I was considering getting some tea, or luncheon soon. Maybe you can join us and talk about your travels? Try some of that fine wine you rescued for us, or sip upon the boiled nectar of some tea from the Central Sea's coast? Oh but wait, what ARE you doing here so early?"[/color]