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[h2][color=3F5A6B][i][b]Aric Voss[/b][/i][/color][/h2]
[i][b][color=3F5A6B]Half-Elf, Ranger (Gloom Stalker), Level 5[/color][/b][/i]
[color=3F5A6B][i][b]HP:[/b][/i][/color] 44 / 44  [color=3F5A6B][i][b]Armor Class:[/b][/i][/color] 15 (17 w/ Shield)  [color=3F5A6B][i][b]Conditions:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[color=3F5A6B][i][b]Location:[/b][/i][/color] Halfway Point, North Road
[color=3F5A6B][i][b]Action:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[color=3F5A6B][i][b]Bonus Action:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[color=3F5A6B][i][b]Reaction:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[/cell][cell]
[right][img]https://imgur.com/eOFtcCC.jpeg[/img][/right]
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Aric listened without interruption, allowing both responses to settle before offering one of his own. The woman had answered the question exactly as it had been asked. The dragonborn had answered the one Aric had actually meant. Between the two of them, the exchange painted a clearer picture than either likely intended.

Polite.

Cautious.

Neither immediately hostile.

Given everything Avonshire had endured, he couldn't fault them for that.

His gaze drifted briefly across the wagon before returning to its occupants. It carried the unmistakable signs of long travel. Supplies packed with the familiarity of people who had lived from it for weeks rather than days. Equipment accumulated through necessity rather than careful planning. A coffin secured among otherwise practical cargo certainly wasn't something one encountered every day, though after everything he had heard in town, it scarcely ranked among the stranger details.

His attention settled on the dragonborn.

The question was reasonable.

More than reasonable.

It was the sort of question Aric himself might have asked.

A faint cloud of breath escaped beneath the brim of his hat before he answered.

[color=3F5A6B][b]"I'm looking for people."[/b][/color]

His tone remained even, carrying easily across the cold air.

[color=3F5A6B][b]"The Ones Who Answered."[/b][/color]

The title felt strange spoken aloud. Less like the name of an adventuring company and more like something a town had invented because it needed to call its heroes something. That alone made it memorable.

[color=3F5A6B][b]"Avonshire had rumors."[/b][/color]

A slight shrug shifted the weight of his pack.

[color=3F5A6B][b]"Some contradicted each other. Most didn't. A corrupt constable. Disappearances. Goblins. Wererats. Harvestide."[/b][/color]

His eyes moved between them once, measuring reactions more than appearances.

[color=3F5A6B][b]"Every trail eventually pointed south."[/b][/color]

The wind tugged lightly at the hem of his cloak before settling again.

[color=3F5A6B][b]"I left the town watch some years ago. Since then I've made a habit of looking into the sort of things that leave more questions than answers."[/b][/color]

There was no boast in the statement.

Simply fact.

[color=3F5A6B][b]"Harvestide sounds like one of those."[/b][/color]

Silence lingered comfortably for a moment.

Aric had learned long ago that people often volunteered their most useful information when they were given room to do so.

His eyes settled once more upon the dragonborn.

[color=3F5A6B][b]"You asked what brings me to the Vineyard."[/b][/color]

Another measured pause.

[color=3F5A6B][b]"I'm hoping the people who survived it can tell me where the rumors end and the truth begins."[/b][/color]

Only then did he allow the question that had been quietly forming since Avonshire.

[color=3F5A6B][b]"Would I be correct in assuming I've found some of them?"[/b][/color]