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	[u]Weather[/u]: Cloudy, windy, and with the start of light snowfall (barely a flurry, but slowly increasing in strength). It is cold, as one might expect from winter. Luckily, the situation looks to be different, milder, than the recent blizzard.     

   	[u]Time[/u]: Late afternoon, still. Tea Time has officially began to run late, and if one were a Halfling, one might already be preparing for their next meal. It would be inaccurate to say that the day has crossed from late afternoon to early evening - perhaps we should refer to this as "prevening," seeing as it's a rather cuspy time of the day.  

	[u]Ambience[/u]: Not a lot has changed in the past stretch of time. Conversations continue, things are revealed, the remains of dead things remain in the cellar and parts beyond, yet none of this really changes the folksy, comforting surroundings of the Taproom. Lighting is dim but adequate in every place that is not overseen directly by candle or lamplight; in those places it is more than sufficient. The scents of food, woodsmoke, tea, and grapeseed oil linger, but to not overpower. Overall, were this place not the site of an ongoing problem [i]and[/i] immediately passed skirmish, it would be a nice, cozy retreat from the road. 

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

	The general agreement with Lizbeth's desire to keep magic training and combat training separate gave her an amount of well-needed reassurance. She even sighed with relief as she realized that there wouldn't be pushback on the subject. She gave a nervous smile and followed up with, [color=darkgray]"I'm not even sure what I can do yet."[/color] It was sheepish, uncertain, and with an expression that did not quite match the custom breastplate of green chitin, layered, curved shortsword, and lightly pulsing crystal containing her own blood that she bore upon her. And she still a child, by the metric of the land. 

	The acquisition of the pen nib seemed to puzzle Lizbeth. [color=darkgray]"Yes, it's fine, pray don't mention it, but..."[/color] she started, somewhat puzzled by Victoria's odd request and odder use of the writing utensil, [color=darkgray]"...what do you mean by 'Bard cliche?' Is it, um, is it like the rumors I hear about Bards? You're the first one I've ever met in person, and you don't seem like the stories, Mademoiselle Belmont."[/color] She did not elaborate on what rumors those might be, even if they were evident. 

	But past all of the issues of her training, the fight that was recently done, and even the proclivities of stereotypical Bardfolk, Lizbeth seemed really interested in the wondrous bits of minor magic that were being catalogued, even going to far as to take occasional note of her own. Maybe she couldn't cast magic like this, but it didn't stop her from wanting to know about it. She read every one of the papers that Victoria wrote for the items, occasionally picking one up to see how it felt in her hand, before returning it to the table where it lay, keeping it available for the real adventurers to utilize. 

	The Mosswaters, sensing a change in the overall air and attitude of the room coming like an ill wind, kept firmly to themselves and simply allowed things to play out. True to Barbal's declaration earlier, he made himself quite comfortable looking over the magic items as they lay there, identified and ready for use. His fingers flexed and there was the slightest glint of avarice in his eyes, but he controlled himself accordingly and simply read the papers. Tarace seemed to recognize that look in his partner's face and quietly took one of his arms, ushering him back to the table with a steady, [color=darkgray][i]"I saved you a few of those fish canapes you like so much, Barbal. Come now, before your tea goes tepid."[/i][/color] For all of his fussing about, Tarace had listened to Kosara's warnings about the brandy and surreptitiously replaced Barbal's cup with good, amber tea instead. If nothing else, despite his eccentricities, he was a Halfling who looked out for those close to him. 

	As if to change the subject far away from whatever might or might not be happening, Barbal did respond to Kathryn's question of sweetener preference with a straightforward, [color=darkgray][b]"Not just now, Miss Lady. Not in the mood for it, you see. Besides, I'm sweet enough."[/b][/color] It wasn't a great joke by far, but it was something to hopefully pass attention away from himself. 

	Meanwhile, Urmdrus seemed to have gotten a lot of attention. The words from Kathryn about being jealous, joking though they were, prompted a dry response of, [color=darkgray][b]"Get more Ankheg. Work out trade. I can make more."[/b][/color] Truly, a Dwarf of great linguistic capacity in the Common tongue of the region. Or not.

	But so far as the near-to-interrogation that Baronfjord had for him, Urmdrus could do little but attempt to explain, be it through the halting amount of the local language that he spoke. [color=darkgray][b]"Yes. I built  other room in cellar."[/b][/color] He clarified, [color=darkgray][b]"Most of the room. Stonework. Door. Locks."[/b][/color] He took a sip from his drink, cleared his throat, and continued, [color=darkgray][b]"No. Don't know what you found. Know you found something. Master L'Rose tasked me. Tasked me with lot of things. Secret room, just outside original border. He said, harder to be seen there. Harder to be seen by - [i]HIM[/i]."[/b][/color] He let this settle for a moment, then offered, [color=darkgray][b]"L'Rose knew what last debt was. Why he tried to break deal. Said [i]HE[/i] already marked final debt. Tasked me with protecting that debt, if he failed."[/b][/color] His eyes glanced in Lizbeth's direction very briefly, inferring an explanation without actively saying anything aloud. [color=darkgray][b]"Can't leave for long, without finishing the deal. One way, another way. Maybe,[/b]"[/color] he glanced over to Lizbeth again, [color=darkgray][b]"In time, strong enough. Finish things for Arnaud. Before..."[/b][/color]

	To her credit, Lizbeth still seemed involved in the very stuffs of magic. At least, she didn't seem to react openly. The same was not true for the Mosswaters; especially Tarace. He looked equal parts angry and confused, turning to Barbal to confirm, [color=darkgray][i]"What... the fuck did I just hear?"[/i][/color]