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	[u]Weather[/u]: It is cold and foggy, hovering above freezing. At least the rain has stopped. 

	[u]Time[/u]: Night. Early night, but the sun has fully removed itself from sight. 

	[u]Ambience[/u]: The sound of water about Avonshire Township is restricted to the quiet but constant murmuring of the river which ran through it. The rain is gone, and enough time had passed that the excesses of the weather had filtered away into the settlement's quite effective drainage system. Sounds of distress can be heard every so often, punctuating the otherwise dead silence from the overall populace; it seemed that everyone was laying as low as possible. The full, pale moon is more readily visible now despite the thickness of the fog. 


[center][h2][color=darkgray]*******[/color][/h2][/center]

	That single moment in the Bed & Breakfast stood thick and eventful. Small movements, small decisions, and stimuli which would seem quite mundane under other circumstances impacted with urgent importance. Most notable in this was the [i]thunk[/i] on the outside of the building, which startled Lizbeth horribly. She did not cry out in alarm but did whimper once with expectant trauma as her feet stamped reflexively and the hunched forward slightly. She shuffled the holy symbol over to her other hand which held the dagger and darted her now free digits out to take the sackful of caltrops from Kosara. 

	Lizbeth's feet soon found themselves taking a shuffling step back in the direction of the stairs. To utilize the stairs meant that she would have to initially move closer to the front door, which put her into temporary indecisiveness as rational thought strove to override her raw survival instinct to move as quickly and directly away from potential danger as quickly as possible. Baronfjord's words caught up with both halves of her senses. When he bade her to go upstairs, she obliged quickly. The tiniest of hesitation occurred as she paused just long enough to capture the mental image of the group assembling to open the main door and confront what lay beyond, but this gave way to the pragmatism of not being in harm's line of sight. 

	When the party was ready to charge and/or defend themselves from the horrors of the outdoors, the reinforced, wooden portal swung slowly, even cautiously, open. There as no monster waiting them. No quantifiable enemy awaiting a hasty lapse of judgement to strike; nothing obvious to lure them into something unfortunate. Just still, chilly air and the limited visibility of nighttime fog. Cautious eyes could readily find the source of the loud thump from earlier, however. It was obvious once revealed: 

	The handaxe left by Kathryn to better defend Cecily and Lizbeth against what was then an unknown danger lay embedded in the wooden doorframe, right at eye level. It stood silently as an unarticulated explanation, inferring things most foul. From the mist and darkness outside, a voice could be heard rising among the stillness. It spoke with great volume, and from a distance. [color=darkgray][i][b]"We have taken everyone we intended to this evening. Accept these losses and we will be gone by the morning light. Stray outside and you will be made food for beasts, and bound to serve us in death hereafter."[/b][/i][/color] Cruel mockery followed as the same voice intoned, [color=darkgray][b][i]"Have a happy and bountiful Harvestide."[/i][/b][/color] 

	Curiously, there is a single rat sitting up on its haunches in the middle of the street, facing the front door of the building. One paw holds up a carefully folded piece of paper and the other, against modern conceptions of common sense, looks to be waving at whomever it can see in the open doorway.