The Township was a welcome sight and as Old Boy galantly pulled them on BlackBerrys thought were already turning to the very important business of rest and food; the sandwiches from lunch had filled a hole but were a far cry from an actual meal. But of course his eyes were pulled to the caravans and tents sitting outside the Township walls, admiring the bright vibrant colours hardly diminished by the evening darkness.

Thankfully Old Boy had the sense to keep his eyes on the road ahead and plodded onward.

BlackBerry did draw the wagon to a small stop when the soldier, notably dressed in Darenby Colours called out to them. He said to Victoria, "Ah, it really does seem our adventure has already been making a name for us.", and then once she had eloquently deflected the praise, he turned to the soldier and asked, "May I ask as to whom has been been asking for us?"

BlackBerry was already half expecting a particular answer, but it made sense to ask in case anyone else was asking for them.

At the halfway point, BlackBerrys eyebrows(?) had shot up when the man mentioned their groups name (patent pending. Subject to change). With a grin, and a quick look at Victoria, he spread out his arm and decried; "Well I am happy to announce Sir you are indeed correct; you have found two of our happy group. However, you must forgive our rudeness for we are in a rush to reach the Township before dark, otherwise we have endeavoured to answer your questions. Though I may say if you are travelling to the vineyard you shall of course meet the others in due course."

Now a few hours later and many more miles, BlackBerry and Victoria had now arrived at the Township thankfully without any further excitement. Though as the sunlight continued to dwindled it had become harder for him to see the edges of the road, only evident by the weak moonlight shining off snow banks to guide him. How Victoria was still able to read that book of hers was beyond him. Once the guard had given him.and answer, BlackBerry would politely give thanks before moving them on.

"Well I would suggest we first find somewhere to retire and make Old Boy comfortable." BlackBerry began as they steadily made their way. "I believe the place I stayed at when we met could host us all." BlackBerry could feel as well as see the tiredness of the poor Mule who had become more sluggish to BlackBerrys instructions since they had entered the walls of the township. To be fair BlackBerry as well was feeling somewhat tired both from the ache of concentration guiding the wagon, but also in his arm as well for the same reason.

Guiding Old Boy through the streets of Avonshire, decorated in bunting and decoration for a different celebration than before, he listened and nodded when Victoria mentioned where the Cemetary lay. It was indeed a problem without any easy fix that he could think of.

He sucked on his teeth. "That could indeed cause an issue. Perhaps the hayloft we all stayed before would be more prudent; less eyes to notice ones absence." A tug at the reigns and a click of the tongue prompted Old Boy to begrudgingly change course at the next corner. "I do however have some business to attend to; namely the errands Lady Kathryn and Kosara have requested us. Though at this time I suppose they shall have to wait until tomorrow so let us try not to cause any sort of fuss."

The task before them did not fill him with any degree of excitement. His voice had been low and hushed even as the conversation drifted to other matters. It was becoming increasingly evident they were going to have to sneak their way to the cemetary, this being on top of having to dig through frozen ground, then no doubt deal with whatever trouble the gods of misfortune would conspire to throw at them. BlackBerry gave let a small huff at the very idea of it all. Perhaps they needed a pickaxe.

"And what of your book? Anything of interest?" He asked. He had tried to get a look at it during the journey but hadn't been able to read anything in the darkness.
"Otherwise once we find a quiet moment we should let Lady Kathryn and Kosara know about the man investigating us. I should hope his intentions and reasons for the investigation are good natured and without ulterior motive...but given our track record thus far....well. It is never a bad idea to be cautious."

"No no Lizbeth, do not apologize for me. I should have taken better care to learn the local customs." Kathryn spoke shamefully. Kathryn had not prepared a gift, but she figured maybe she could offer something to the grieving family. Adjusting her person and kit some, she pulled off one of the two waterskins she carried and set it on the box much like Lizbeth did the coins. "I must apologize I am still unfamiliar, so I hope this is acceptable. Some riesling from the vineyard and a well made waterskin." She paused again, before reaching into her coin purse and setting a gold piece with the wine filled waterskin. "I did not know Toombes personally, but I have heard nothing but kind words about him. The world will be a little more amiss without him. I am sorry again for your loss, and I will do everything in my power to make sure justice is delivered." She offered up with a curtsy. "And thank you for what you have shared. I shall leave you both to grieve." Kathryn said humbly and apologetically before turning to leave.

Grouse Rise. Luci of Grouse rise. Who had failed to show up to her lovers funeral? And the last known person to see Toombes. She didn't like it. She worried Luci was also in danger herself, or worse had suffered a fate much like Toombes. But it was getting close to dark. If Kathryn was by herself, she would take the chance and go. Though she wouldn't know the way... But having Lizbeth by her side? Sure, Kathryn was confident in her ability to hit hard and take a hit. But BB had shown that one wrong misstep or one bad chance, and Kathryn could be stunned, delayed, slowed, just long enough to take advantage of in a fight. In a moment like that she couldn't protect Lizbeth. She may be able to handle the beating that followed if she was by herself, but recovery would take too long. "Let's go see Luci in the morning. If Kosara is up for it maybe we can bring her along too. Though chances are low of something happening, I would rather not tempt fate unprepared." Kathryn said before ushering Lizbeth back towards the vineyard.

Though lower in priorities, Kathryn did take a few moments to stop, order a new caste of ale for the coach house, pay a rather handsom fee for it, and get moving at a good pace so she had plenty of time to sort out what little was left of the day. Though it wouldn't arrive until the next day, it would arrive in time for everyone's return whenever they did return. It would be a welcome find. She did let the shop keep know there was a chance that no one would be home when it was dropped off, so to just leave it by the door if no one answered.

On the return trip, Kathryn figured it was a good idea to cross her T's and dot her I's. Grabbing the sending stone from her belt she called into it so BB could receive the message. She knew there was a word limit, but she wasn't totally sure what it was. She also wasn't sure it could be recast or not quickly. "Got a lead on Toombes, heading to Grouse Rise in the morning with Kosara. Stay safe out there." Kathryn said into the stone before continuing to the vineyard.

Nearing the Coach House Kathryn spoke up to Lizbeth. "I do not know what we are going to find tomorrow. It could be nothing. It could be really, really bad. You heard a bit about Toombes and his fate, and I do fear we will see some of that as well. Though I am hopeful that will not be the case. You do not need to come with us tomorrow. If you would like to come and see things through, I will take you with us. But I do not want to pressure you either way. But I will leave the choice to you." Kathryn offered up. She wanted to protect Lizbeth, but she couldn't be sure the best ways too. And no matter what she wanted, Lizbeth was involved now. Only so much could be hidden from her.

Entering the coach house seemed much less a stresser than the rest of the day so far. It seemed Kosara had already returned and had begun food. Thank the gods, Kathryn felt like she could eat a horse in that moment. "We're back Kosara, need a hand with anything?" Kathryn offered up as she began to set her gear and pack down on one of the tavern tables. "Can I get you anything Lizbeth?" Kathryn offered to her would be squire.

Weather: Winds remain slow and steady; less of a gust and more of a steady stroll of current, stopping every so often as if to admire the scenery. The skies are half covered with high atmospheric clouds which move quickly across its black, starlit backdrop, regularly allowing the moon to evade direct detection.

Time: It is early nighttime. We have passed the final moments of twilight, and now rely upon the half-covered celestial bodies above to light the way. It took a little longer upon the roads than expected, and travelers find themselves within the boundaries of their intended destinations after true night had fallen.

Ambience: Snow-covered hills make up the majority of the landscape. Even within the area of the Rose River Vineyard, this is mostly the case. Perhaps this helps to make structures stand out even more against the background; what can be seen when moon and stars make their way through the growing cloud cover. The Estate House stands out more than anything else, despite the drifts of snow which softened the bottom most portion of its silhouette. The largest building upon the land for a long way around, and only a couple of lights from within visible. Rows and rows of silent, sleeping grape vines upon frames have collected their own drifts of pale, frozen precipitation, forming strange, elevated lines across acres and acres of cultivated farmland.

Back in the Coach House, things seem a touch more homey. One would never have imagined that a life-and-death struggle took place here just the previous night. But the location is stocked full (and recently) with basic foodstuffs, preserved goods, lamp oil, and firewood. Bedclothes are changed and a general sense of tidiness has been restored, should there have been any untidiness to speak of. Only clothing that was set aside for the purposes of laundering have been appropriated by the domestic staff, one hopes temporarily. And the appropriate containers in the kitchen and behind the bar have been cleaned and refilled with well water.

The Hayloft was much as one would remember it. With winter on, it felt colder, darker, forgotten almost, even though it clearly was still being used to deal with the L'Rose family's business needs. These needs were significantly less during the winter months, and so things were pretty much as the party left it. Tightly fitted wooden boards were painted red-brown toward the exterior, with indoor facing wood either minimally treated or left as open, sanded wood. A ladder allowed access to the top loft, where the vast majority of the baled hay was rotated and stored. In this higher level, the metal brazier which once kept the party warm and cooked the occasional meal was still present, along with a meager amount of wood for fuel which hadn't been used from the hayloft's previous occupancy - and probably was only enough for one night. The block-and-tackle platform system remained here as well, capable of moving light cargo or deftly maneuvering multiple bales of packed hay from the ground to the loft, and vice versa. Upon the ground floor set very little, comparatively. It was the place where wagons loaded or unloaded bales, and so was kept mostly open, with water barrels and downstacked hay, and a smallish cart for moving light supplies. Large doors opened at each end of the building on the ground level which thankfully could be shut and barred from the inside, and one large, swinging door in the loft which was presently slightly ajar. In short, there were much better places to hole up during a winter night, but there were far worse options as well.



The brief exchange with the soldier ended with the equally brief exchange of information. "Never got a name," he replied to Baronfjord as he waved in their vehicle. "Tall fellow. Big moustache."

From inside Avonshire, one could not see the occupying caravan. It looked quite like business as usual, for the most part. The Township was obviously still getting over the incidents at Harvestide, in the way of the people as well as the physical scars of the fighting. People weren't very quick to get into conversations with one another, at least not like they used to. And with the corruption of the town guards, the responsibility of law and order fell to an all too small detachment of soldiers of the realm, instead. Everyone, including the soldiery, hoped this was temporary. The path to the Hayloft didn't quite take the intrepid adventurers to the town center, where the big fight took place, but it wouldn't be a long walk to get there, were one to have a nostalgic moment about it.

Arrival at the Loft served as a reminder that other businesses were present in the area, specifically the farrier and stables run by a Human fellow named Fields, and next to that, the enigmatic hub of their previous adventure, Neil & Bob's Public House. Fields, a man in his middle years who looked like he was in desperate need of a shave and change of shirt, was toward the front of his establishment near where he would hammer horseshoes, seemingly packing up for the night. Over at the public house, lights were on and a little foot traffic could be seen entering and exiting. They obviously would be open for a ways longer, owing to their choice of business and clientele.

Back in Southmoor, the Family Toombes seemed content with the offering of wine and silver, the elder Mssr. Toombes beginning a word of protest at the need for a gift before he was shushed by other family members. The silver was already accepted, but the wine on top of it, well intended, might have been a little bit much, or at least a touch insisted upon by circumstance for a family of common means. It was not usual for someone of bearing to offer up fine wine, but there was an understanding that the customs of the area were not intimately known by the tall lady, and it was improper of him to make a correction. Instead, he voiced a polite word of gratitude and left it at that.

The passing of time and light travel brought the reunion of people back in the Coach House, and the preparation of food at the outset of full nighttime. Prior to entering, Lizbeth responded to her mentor's words of warning, stating, "If you prefer, I can stay here. If it's my choice, then I'll... well, I'll make it in the morning, okay?" She did seem of two minds about the whole thing, and genuinely looked like she was weighing her options. Inside, with the smell of cooking, she had a reaction similar to Kathryn and her sudden, horse-eating desire. A growl escaped her stomach that mere politeness could not force back down, and when asked if she needed anything, Lizbeth answered in a quiet voice, "I could really go for some bread and butter while we wait, if you don't mind, please." Lizbeth slumped in a chair at first, then rose once more to unbuckle her swordbelt and lay the whole apparatus, weapon and all, upon the table in front of her.

"The hayloft?" began Victoria, skeptically. She remembered her way from the southern gate and could tell that there were only a couple familiar places in the direction that Baronfjord chose. She was prepared to make some snarky comment about Neil & Bob's Public House, which was within sight of this place and had actual beds to sleep upon even if they were in a common area. But Bob's place wasn't the intended destination. It was the hayloft. In winter. Victoria started at her companion and fellow adventurer for a long moment, then let out a breathy, "Very well. Why not? This should only be for one night, anyway." They had been able to ward off the cold of autumn in that place well enough, so Victoria surmised that they might find something between survival and comfort within the hayloft, even now.

The interior of the hayloft seemed quiet, just as it had been before. The same barrels upon the same stone floor, the same cart in the corner, and the same lift system for light cargo and hay bales. Up top, from her vantage, the same brazier that kept them warm, but different hay bales. Or at least different stacks, as it was rather difficult to distinguish one bundle of compressed fodder from the next.

Victoria's breath comdensed into the loft's still air as she carefully guided her errand cart off of the wagon and onto the lift. Some minor exertion upon a length of thick rope brought her cart, and her Morty, within fetching distance of the upper loft area. But before making her ascent to set up her borrowed campsite, she looked to Baronfjord, and then to the wagon, suggesting, "The man across the street at the farrier; charming fellow named Fields - and I do use the word 'charming' particularly loosely here - knows that we have a stabling voucher with Fort Darenby. He can make sure our noble beast of burden is warm and cared for. If you would do the honors, please?"

In the meantime, Victoria climbed the ladder to the upper level and began to set up their hayloft encampment as best she might, moving bales to spots strategic for keeping heat close while limiting the possibility of the lit brazier causing a catastrophic fire. She assembled appropriate tinder, kindling, and put what firewood remained in accessible stacks next to the brazier for use, but did not ignite anything as of yet. From her personal cart, Victoria produced two bottles of wine taken from behind the bar, back at the Coach House. And debated dipping into her non-perishables for supper.

"Baronfjord, my good sir, how would you prefer to handle this evening? We could attempt to speak with Monsieur L'Rose this evening, and see what that caravan is about, as its inexorably in our path to the cemetery. Or we might try tomorrow when we're fresh, which has its own drawbacks if we're pursuing secrecy. Whichever, we have a more pressing decision to come to: Do we dine in the loft, or do we get something warm from Bob's place across the thoroughfare, hmm?" An almost mischievous smile played across Victoria's face, as she had a preferred option from the bunch, but kept herself open should his opinion lead elsewhere.

BlackBerry had raised an incredulous eyebrow at Victorias initial response to his suggestion, but when she reluctantly agreed to it he made no further fuss either.
But upon spotting the Hayloft he was inclined to agree with her, and nearly turned the wagon around then and there; he had thought with the season it would have been closed and packed up, but in fact had the large doors at each end wide open for the wind, snow and wet to come and go as it pleased.

Bringing the wagon to a stop just inside the doors BlackBerry let out a "hm", unconvinced with his own thinking now it had become reality. Old Boy let out an equally unimpressed, and very tired huff, making it clear he wouldn't be going any further than a bag of oats.

"Yes, yes, all in good time Victoria. If you would just give me a moment." BlackBerry clambered down off the wagon and began stretching his travel weary limbs with the obligatory groans and cracking of joints.

While Victoria set about sorting out their campsite, BlackBerry secured the wagon in place and unhitched Old Boy, making sure to heap various praises upon the animal and gently stroke his snout. "What a wonderful creature you are, Old Boy, a king among all other Mules that is what you are. Come now, let us find you somewhere befitting you for this most detestable weather. Be back in just a moment, Victoria!"

BlackBerry walked with Old Boy (still giving the mule some well deserved praise) towards the Farrier as instructed to find a man fitting Victoria's description packing away the last of his tools. "Ah! Pardon me. My apologies sir I hope it is not too late for one more lodger is it?" BlackBerry, holding Old Boys Reigns in hand smiled politely at Fields, not entirely sure how lodging a horse or mule into a stable worked as he had never had one before. It was too late to back out now though so he stood there smiling at man, next to Old Boy. "You are Fields? Am I correct? I was told that we should have a voucher with Fort Darenby."

One way or another, BlackBerry would muddle his way through getting Old Boy stabled away requesting for just the one night.

Upon his return to the hayloft, "I have returned, Old Boy has been left in Master Fields' care for the evening. How are things here? Ah! But a moment before I forget." BlackBerry hopped back onto the wagon and rummaged in his back for the small stone he had made sure to pack that morning. "I should hope Lady Kathryn does have the other upon her person this time. Ahem." He spoke into the stone. "Arrived safely in Avonshire. Met man with moustache travelling to Southmoor asking of Party. Seemed reasonable but be cautious. Will report conversation tomorrow." He gave a self satisfied nod and packed the stone into a pocket on his person and left his bag in the wagon out of sight.

"There. If anything of note should come about it will have to wait until tomorrow. On that though I should say we have our conversation with L'Rose this evening." He grimaced at the thought of making an already long day that much longer. "The night should give us some cover and in this instance I feel some secrecy and subterfuge is wise." Said the bright blue dragon born to the lvavishly dressed bard. "My worry is in if we were spotted that it would be very hard to explain. In daylight rather is is much less suspicious and we can explain Madame L'Rose has given us permission to exhume her father in-law, but the act that would follow would raise a few eyebrows, and possibly some tempers." Pinching his chin he paused for a moment as he realised just where exactly his thoughts were treading. "I feel as if I should mention none of this is something I am in the habit of doing."

just as suddenly, BlackBerry waved away his troubles with a scowl. "Bah! What a horrid mess this all is and I am so cold I may well lose my arm." He stomped his feet for emphasis. "Let us dine at Bobs' this evening and then begin our work after; we can warm and freshen ourselves while the last of the night's wanderers tidy themselves away. As a bonus, we may even learn about the carnival as well! Oh it has been far too long since I have last seen one."

Cooking was a surprisingly relaxing experience when you were alone without anyone to interrupt or distract you. Kosara of course wasn’t quite as fan of the relaxation as she was of having fun with people she liked and cared about, but she still enjoyed it, knowing that eventually others will return for the evening. A quick cast of Prestidigitation on occasion too to keep the faint musical notes in the background for ambiance and change them every now and then for variety, making dinner turned out a grand experience.

Since stews took time to cook, she made it first and put it on the fire so it’s done by the time it was time to eat. After that she focused on the other things she had planned to make such as the salad… It was a quick preparation once she had the ingredients prepared just cutting up veggies and seasoning with spices, salt which was technically also a spice, some oil and some vinegar. It was supposed to do. Reaching over with a fork she poked a slice of carrot and ate it.” Hmmmm….” The white haired tiefling made a VERY pondering noise as she tasted the thing in her mouth.” It’s great!” Was her inevitable conclusion of her handy work. Yes, dinner was shaping nicely, she concluded, throwing a look to confirm the stew’s gradual progress.

She was just preparing the pie, a bit of improvisation and a bit of adaptation and some following of a recipe and she was reasonably sure it was going to be good. Mind you it might not be traditional pie, but it was going to be sweet and have fruits and honey and bread… In any case she was just about elbow deep in dough when she heard folks returning after a long day made Kosara’s little hearth flutter in joy.” Welcome back! I’m in the kitchen!” She called out when she heard Kathryn’s voice. The tiefling woman was happy. She now wanted a hug, but food first, hugs after!” I wouldn’t m in a bit of a hand with grabbing some ingredients in a bit! There’s also tea on the fire if you two need a hot cup of fruity warmth!” She had put dried fruits inside the kettle along with the tea leaves.

“Was that monsters or somebodys stomachs I heard?” Kosara asked with a smile, leaning by the door to the kitchen, revealing herself in her sleaves pulled up to the shoulders and flour and dough up to the elbows glory. She even had flour on her nose in an almost cliché manner, though admittedly that was from the time she touched her face with her arms.” There’s fresh bread here in a basket and some butter, but it would be even better if you slightly toast it. Kathryn, why don’t you make a few toasts for Lizbet first? We’ve got spices too, so it will be the most glorious buttered spiced toast ever!” She grinned, returning to her dough to finish arranging the pie so she could toss it in the furnace.

"You can make the choice whenever you feel like. Tonight, we'll rest and recover. Bounce back, recharge, and kick ass when we can." Kathryn said with cool confidence. "Though if you have questions you need answers too to inform your decisions, feel free to ask. We're here for you. Any way we can be yeah?" Kathryn said, still holding her relaxed tone in an attempt to comfort herself and Lizbeth. Lizbeth's comment about food was... relatable. Kathryn had grown rather hungry herself. Though booze and snacks could hold someone over for a while, they were trekking the hills today. Not the most strenuous of activities, but rather active non the less. Plus this mornings training.

Kosara calling out from the kitchen pretty much sorted out tonight's details. "Tea sounds wonderful! Ill get the water started." Kathryn called out setting up the kettle to make her hot leaf juice. Rushing into the kitchen to obtain the bred and butter, Kathryn gave Kosara a greeting before grabbing what she could. "I'll see what I can do to toast it, but I am going to see if I can find Olive oil. I don't think its too common here, but I wanted to see anyways. If I can you should come and have some with us!" Kathryn offered to her tiefling friend.

"Let me see what I can dig up, Be right back!" She sung at the end as she set down most of her gear and walked to the store room as to not get in Kosara's way as she cooked. Bread and butter were easy enough, but she wanted something a little more homely. In the back of the store room she found it! Olive Oil! She hadn't seen a single olive field in hundreds of miles she wasn't sure if she would find any here. Not to say there weren't any nearby, but she hadn't seen them yet.

Rushing back upstairs Kathryn said out a dish with raw bread, butter, and a small bowl of olive oil, after dusting it off some. Then making sure to add cheese, some grape seed oil, and the now toasted bread set up on the plate, the snacks were finally set. "I don't know if you have ever had olive oil with your bread, but it is to die for! When I was younger my father would have some out with every supper for my siblings and I. Except in winter months when trade ground to a halt. But we still had it often enough that as a kid I began to loath the stuff. And, maybe once poured it in my sisters hair." She said with an innocent shrug. "But since I left home I have done when I can to keep some on me whenever I can. Its not sold too often in this region though. I should ask bb if he can look for some olive oil..." She mused to herself.

Weather: Winds transition to steady, giving an near constant, soft pull across the landscape. Clouds do what they do, interposing between the sky and one who might observe it, making sure that what little light issuing from the moon and stars only stretches between the two with decreasing frequency. There is no snow, thankfully, except what already lay thick across the moors. It is cold, it is dark.

Time: If the nighttime is the right time, then we are indeed in the right. No twilight's last gleam upon the horizon; the liminal nature of the fleeting day has fully turned to the dark. The night is young, but despite its tender age, the night in this area has seen some shit.

Ambience: Quiet, save the winter wind pushing steadily among the highs and lows of a frozen moor. The road is quieter than most, now bereft of travelers that anyone might notice. The dark of the night makes the usually notable, if few, structures blend into the background unless active illumination peeks from covered windows. The Rose River Vineyard stands as a possible exception, as certain structures most assuredly stand out, like the near regal Estate House. Even rows of grape frames stand buried across the landscape here, each bearing the sleeping, generational crops of the L'Rose bloodline.

The Coach House seems to have taken an almost familial ambience. Sounds and smells of food being prepared, the tended fires of kitchen and taproom both giving warm reassurance against the dark, and light conversation despite the grim times. For the first time in a while, the Coach House feels a bit like the Coach Home. Supplies are stocked near to full, with wood, water, and pantry staples, not to mention a few culinary luxuries and probably a literal ton of wine available. Were it not for the horrors of the season, this would be a truly ideal way to wait out winter.

Back in Avonshire, the old hub for the Harvestide incident was alive with business. By such general and varying terms as "Alive" and "Business," one might be forgiven to say that it was a slower night. Winter has a way of bringing people in during the day for warming things to consume, but sending all except the more aggressive extroverts among the locals back home when the sun went down. Such as it was in Neil & Bob's Public House. Nine square tables were arranged in the taproom, as well as two larger, rectangular ones along the wall on the opposite side, but only two of the tables were in use. A stage, which looked a little out of place in an establishment like this, was located just to the right of the entrance and took up the entire corner there, as if originally built for larger performances than a single minstrel. The place was hardwood and metal fittings, all of which had the look of near antiquity, as if it had all been here, settling in place for many a year. Behind the bar, among the barrels and bottles, stood a fireplace which opened to both the taproom and the bar along their shared wall, within which simmered something savory and fragrant.







The few people within the Public House of Neil & Bob had a mix of the familiar and unknown. On the one hand, three local laborers rose and gave enthusiastic cheers upon seeing the entrance of Baronfjord and Victoria, pumping their fists in the air and shouting their names as if they were the favored competitors at a Professional Jousting Federation. One of them, a little stouter than most, asked two questions of the pair: "Heeeeey heya! Where's that big lady, Kat, what was drinking us under the table, huh? OOH! And Morty? Where'd that little sack of pork roast get hisself to? Aw, but it's great to se ya!" He slurred, as one does when they've been drinking for a little too long, but he was almost completely coherent, as were his associates. Astute people who were present for Harvestide may remember them as Lawrence, Maurice, and Curly, the latter being the one giving the poetic salutation.

Only one person sat at the bar, a Halfling lady who probably had to climb up the barstool to get there, with her hair in a bun and an apron which bore the signs of kitchen work. An older fellow stood behind the bar, absently wiping down drinking vessels with a lightly dampened cloth. The older fellow, Human, gave the tightest smile of recognition possible, while the Halfling lady raised a mug far larger than she should have been able to deal with and joined the trio at the table, punctuating her greeting with a disproportionately sized belch for her otherwise petite frame. "These folk, eh? Good to see you! Lea was asking after you, smooth talker." It was Daisy, the lady employed in the kitchen, who motioned with her huge mug in the direction of the other occupied table in the room, which held the first glimpse at the unfamiliar.

At this table sat three Gnomes (rare in these parts), two of which were dressed in vivid, cheerful colors while the third, in contract dressed down in muted earth tones and black. Joining them was a Human woman with ark hair, appearing to be in her thirties. She was attired in a hooded brown coat and a warhammer rested beside her chair, leaning against the edge of the table. All of them appeared to be in varying states of intoxication. Serving this quartet was the young Human lady, Lea, who was busy picking up used dishes and refilling stout mugs with rich, brown ale. She looked up to see who entered, thanks to the sudden increase in volume within the Public House, and smiled. A flush of scarlet hit her cheeks and she quickly turned toward the kitchen. She called behind her, "Just sit wherever!" It was just a couple of minutes before she was back out front with a change of apron.



Back in the Coach House, Lizbeth maintains a sense of initially tense politeness at the sudden reversal, being as she had been accustomed to serving, or at least preparing things for, the adventurers who presently resided within the Coach House. This had been done, seemingly, in an attempt to repay the lessons learned and protection afforded by their presence. Perhaps this was why it seemed strange to her at first. But as these first few moments passed, slowly, Lizbeth opened up to the possibility that this was just an evening between people of differing backgrounds who had come to get to know each other over the past weeks. It had been some time and she had already learned much, and was hungry to learn more.

In fact, Lizbeth was just plain hungry. It had been a good amount of time that day since she had a substantial meal, and this was a more interesting combination of food items than she was accustomed to seeing assembled. Comfortable with the flavors individually, she took the not-quite-worldshifting step into something a little new. "Oh, this is nice!" she exclaimed, getting better acquainted with the simplicity of bread, oil, and accoutrements. She was halfway through her second toasted slice before holding herself to manners, and slowing down. The items which remained to be sampled would be better served if she did not attempt the horridly plebeian practice of "horking," which she had come to realize through literary works could mean the rapid intake AND rapid out-take of food, depending upon usage. Lizbeth had no visible desire to commit herself to either action.

To help slow herself, she did initiate a bit of conversation. "Grouse Rise," sje started, suddenly swallowing hard to fully clear her speaking pipes, "...is a small village south of here. Past the bend in the river, and, um... I think I've only been there twice. Grandpa hires ...hired... people from there, but it's past the south end of the vineyard. He didn't want me playing near there when I was littler." The sentiment echoed something she had mentioned weeks ago, when everyone was making their initial journey from Avonshire Township to the Rose River Vineyard - almost to the letter.