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	[u]Weather[/u]: Even though the rain is relatively lighter than it was an hour past, it will still drench one if they spend an appreciable amount of time out in it. Cloaks, coats, and hats are one's friends now, probably more than ever. 

	[u]Time[/u]: It is afternoon. A handful of minutes have passed since the group left out of the Hayloft/Public House area, so not a lot has changed there. Just enough time for a mild to moderate conversation before the next destination was reached. 

	[u]Ambience[/u]: The rain was lighter but had by no means stopped. The sky is still dark, the streets are still steadily draining away water even as it continues to be replaced, and the citizenry of Avonshire were nowhere in open view. Banners which crossed the streets and festival decorations still hung, flapping aimlessly in the wet wind with no small touch of irony; celebratory markers for Harvestide which, up until a handful of hours ago, oversaw one of the great annual celebrations of the region. 

	Yet somehow, the scent of smoke and pork could still be detected faintly on the irregular wind. Some people couldn't be kept from their craft, it seemed, no matter the weather or potential danger looming about them. 

	Despite all of the lovely ambience, sights, smells, and movement about the general area of the Silversmith's shop, things seem rather still and tense, like the Township was holding its breath, waiting to finally exhale and take in a new breath. 
 
	
[center][color=darkgray][h2]*****[/h2][/color][/center]
[center][hider=Jacques Mallard, Silversmith][img]https://i.ibb.co/GWcg0WP/Silversmith-s.jpg[/img][/hider][/center]
	
	The sign on the front door clearly read "Closed For Festival", though the party was fully aware that it was there purely to shoo regular business away. It looked slightly off-center from the last time that it was viewed, as if it had been removed and placed back in the interim. There was a short series of steps leading up to the door with a small landing, which lay underneath an equally small awning that gave some protection from the rain. As a result, the letter was able to be slipped underneath the door without worry of it becoming damp. 

	From inside, a heavy thump sounded from upon the boards that Baronfjord was so intently attempting to listen through, as if struck from the inside by something heavy. From inside the building, a loud, agitated voice could be heard growling something unintelligible. Regardless of what was said, it looks like the proverbial jig is up. 

	But that wasn't the only percussive wooden sound to come from inside the building in front of them. A pause, seemingly lengthy, occurred after the last corner of the paper disappeared from sight, taken up from the other side of the door. The muffled voice sounded again, this time easier to make out by virtue of proximity. [color=darkgray]"Uh huh. We'll see about that,"[/color] it intoned, as the sound of something heavy slid off of the door, followed by a [i]thunk[/i] as the door hit the floor on the other side of the metal-bound point of entrance. 

	At this time an event familiar to Kosara and Kathryn occurred. [color=darkgray]"BACK UP A STEP."[/color] came the voice again, loud enough to be heard clearly and enunciated fully to minimize any mistake on the part of the listener. The door heaved open just a crack, allowing a dim orange light to be viewed from the outside though the source of the illumination was not in direct view. A tall humanoid form blocked enough of the light to form a silhouette, and a voice issued from this form with more clarity than before. [color=darkgray]"If he sent you, you know what I'm going to do next. Come inside slow, and know that you have a crossbow on you."[/color] He steps back to accommodate entry. 

	When one enters the building, they are greeted by warmth greater than that of the Public House the party had just left, if with stuffier air. The lighting is dimmer, but once one's eyes adjust, adequate. True to his word, a [url=https://i.ibb.co/Y7DxDVr/Jaques-Mallard-Silversmith.jpg]man[/url] stands before you with a loaded, light crossbow, his hair and eyes a bit wild. The source of the orange glow was now visble - to one side of the open shop interior was a small pot forge containing a fair amount of molten metal, under which rested a flameless heat source, putting off light as a hot bar of forge-steel might. The rest of the shop did little to resemble a silversmith's, except for a number of knick-knacks on a table near the front door. The shelves along the walls were mostly barren, and the main counter had upon it a few weapons. Daggers, a spear, and another crossbow. Behind the counter sat a well made couch, upon which was discarded a blanket and couple of pillows that did not match the furniture, themselves. There were other things here, scattered about almost haphazardly; snatches of writings and various items that looked more at home in an alchemist's or talismonger's shop than one who works jewelry and keepsakes. 

	[color=darkgray]"Close the door behind you. There's a storage box near you there. On top of that box is a..."[/color] he paused for a second, [color=darkgray]"...a ring and a bracelet chain. Each of you take one and hold it to your tongue for a moment, and let me see you do it. THEN PUT THEM BACK. It used to be two rings until some eight-foot-tall tart ran off with one of them."[/color] He tilted his head to the side slightly to see beyond his door and those gathered beyond it. [color=darkgray]"[i]HEY![/i]"[/color]

[center][hider=Outside Silversmith's][img]https://i.ibb.co/zm7QPMV/Outside-Silversmith-2.png[/img][/hider][/center]