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	[u]Weather[/u]: Overcast and chilly. Winds are windy, but no so much as to lose an unsecured hat. Yet.
 
	[u]Time[/u]: A touch after midday. The sun is still notable through the cloud cover.

	[u]Ambience[/u]: The low and small flowers around the roadside waypoint dance back and forth in the wind, smaller gusts turning it into a back-and-forth frenzy for a second or so at a time. The colors of the landscape unfurling all around remain as captivating as ever, were one in a position to appreciate it. Nearby, one may hear the subtler sounds of the river during the times when the wind quiets. 

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

	The Halflings sitting atop and driving the farm wagon took their time listening to and digesting the words of the strangers with the surviving relatives of the elder Monsieur L'Rose of the Rose River Vineyard. Indeed, one might refer to it as a "stunned silence", owing to the fact that a few of them had confused expressions, complete with mouths agape, and none of them so much as cleared their throat for a few seconds afterward. Breeze filtering through brush dominated the landscape's auditory cues during this time, broken finally by a single, croaking caw from a very nearby black bird. 

	This seemed to break the spell surrounding the group, resulting in mutters amongst themselves, indecipherable on account of distance between themselves and the party. The Halfling who previously spoke decided to ignore the words of the strange Tiefling and Half-Elf who addressed him and returned his attention to Cecily. Shouting to make himself understood over the distance, he spoke, [color=gray]"Is everything canny, Madame L'Rose!? We can help; there's only four of them!"[/color]  

	Cecily's response was a weary but clearly spoken, [color=gray][i]"No, Monsieur Mosswater, everything is..."[/i][/color] She paused to sigh and shake her head a little, [color=gray][i]"Everything is just as they said! Just not ...it's complicated! These fine  people are my guests! Come along, now! I don't feel like shouting today!"[/i][/color] Cecily looked tired in that moment as she waved them closer. She then gave appraising glances to the two, more socially oriented people of the group and wondered how they stumbled over such a first meeting. [color=gray][i]"Everyone has bad days, I suppose,"[/i][/color] she mumbled, partly in understanding, though admittedly partly with annoyance at the fact that a basic social encounter with people she knew was mishandled, and almost grievously, by adventurers she knew were plenty capable if they tried to be. If this had come to blows, Cecily was almost certain that the farmhands, people she knew and many she counted as friends, would have taken heavy losses. Even if they won the skirmish. 

	The Halfling-led group approached cautiously, keeping alert and eyeing the adventurers with a continued amount of suspicion. The ones with short hunting bows hung toward the back, apparently ready to provide cover if necessary. As they neared, one could better gauge tense looks upon their faces and what might have been a frazzled lack of meaningful rest. Still upon their cart, the Halfling, Mosswater, spoke up again. [color=gray]"What they're spitting out is true, then? Sheriff Arbalest sent them and the Constable went barmy?"[/color] 

	This time, Lizbeth spoke up in their defense before her aunt could get to it. [color=gray]"Of course, Mr. Mosswater! Not just that, they fought off an army of Goblins and got Grandpa's body back and made sure he got a good burial in the big cemetery. And, and... they saved Aunt Ceecee from Cavendish. They're big heroes, Mr. Mosswater, sir."[/color] Her finish was a touch meeker than her more excited start. Cecily could only nod in agreement. 

	After a short talk amongst themselves, Mosswater sent the rest of the group toward the Township to confirm, retaining only his until then silent companion upon the wagon with him, who smiled and introduced himself as [color=gray]"Tarace, and this my Barbal,"[/color] motioning to the one who was doing the talking thusfar. The armed farmhands looked a bit hesitant to leave them alone with a gaggle of outsiders fresh from a kill, particularly the killing of someone they knew, on the word of two people who might or might not be influenced by said outsiders. In the end, they contented themselves with the idea that they were seeking out the region's authority for conformation and help. 

	Barbal Mosswater maneuvered his wagon around in the roadside waypoint and aimed it back in the direction from which they arrived, the same direction the party was headed, down the road. Calling back to Cecily, he said, [color=gray]"My people are going to find the Sheriff. If your [i]new[/i] friends are really 'big heroes', maybe you can convince them to help out your [i]old[/i] friends. Laurent's sheep have been picked off a few at a time and what or whoever's been doing it has been getting bolder. Bits of blood and mutton left strewn about, and if we can't get workers back in the fields before the snows come - and they're about to - some of us might starve this winter."[/color] His voice was gruff (for a Halfling) as he returned to the road and rolled off, not particularly waiting for an answer. 

	Cecily looked expectantly among the group and assured, [color=gray][i]"You don't have anything to prove to me, and all of you are welcome in my home regardless of what you decide. All of you have more than shown your courage and ability. And the others are going to get Gregory. If he can spare men right now I am sure this will get sorted. Let me know if you [i]want[/i] to investigate this and I'll turn off the road near the Laurent farm. It might make us late getting back, just to say."[/i][/color]