Sigil

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Victoria Belmont Half-Elf, Bard, Level 3 HP: 23 / 23 Armor Class: 15 Conditions: N/A Location: The Hayloft -> Neil & Bob's Public House Action: Minor Illusion Bonus Action: Morty Reaction: N/A

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A few dramatic waves, reminiscent of an orchestra conductor relaying the tempo of a strings section, and Victoria had set back up her illusory privacy screen. "You have approximately a minute, Kathryn. Make it count." The Bard might have stuck around to replenish the spell following this minute, except that her proclivities just then had her moving on toward creature comforts and getting their job in motion. Naturally, the former came first. Victoria had a desire for a little something warm that morning but did not hold out a ton of hope for the more sophisticated foodstuffs of her homeland. A lady might dream, though.

Responding to Kathryn's expression of gratitude for the minor illusion cast for modesty's sake, Victoria reassured, "Think nothing of it, Lady Knight. It's no more than you would do for me, I am certain." Her smile was sweet, seemingly masking another choice phrase or two implied yet left unsaid.

Morty (who apparently was popular the previous night), stood upon the lift with the same vacuous, unthinking expression as ever. Victoria lowered the not-quite-living beast to the ground floor and set back to her own belongings while the others talked. The discussion between Kosara and Kathryn honestly made the musical Half-Elf wonder if they were doomed to some horrible, Darwinian end in the near future. This was tempered by the reminder of the group utterly running roughshod over the Goblins. What they lacked in ...things... these people seemed to make up for in deliverable ouch. To contrast, even if she didn't look like she was paying the rapt-est attention, Victoria was taking in the details of the conversation which Marita overheard. There were implications to this which she could not connect without further information; questions that she might want to answer were she so inclined to follow up on them. If this even had anything to do with the disappearances.

As opposed to their Cleric, Victoria gave a tiny shake of her head as she slipped her coat over her leather armor and buckled on her swordbelt. She was no great fighter, obviously, but was no stranger to either style or defending herself. A slim, elegant blade made by talented Human hands from a foreign land helped give her, she believed, an air of adventurous sophistication. And if she was being honest with herself, there was no way in any of the Hells that she was disarming when she didn't have to. And her primary violin? Most assuredly its case was being slung across her back. It completed the whole, bardy ensemble.

Plans were being made, sort of, and Victoria had something similar to a plan, herself. Or an idea, more like. This idea revolved around her talking to people with practiced nonchalance who might point her in a useful direction and having a light breakfast. Probably not in the exact order. In any case, as plans that did not originate from her were being discussed, Victoria swung herself down the ladder to the ground floor and announced, "Whatever we get ourselves into, ladies, I'm having a light breakfast first. Best of luck." She stopped to give Morty a mental command to follow, and found herself wishing to voice a thought: "If you truly are going after the L'Roses first thing, they are located in a boarding house with a green roof, near to that boarded up silversmith's place. I saw them safely there myself last night." She went for the door, her tusked hog following, and suggested, "Perhaps we should meet back up at noon, latest. Just in case, of course. Oh, and good morning to you both."

She departed, Morty keeping to her heels.

Victoria wasted no time getting across the street to the Public House. This seemed to be her life, anymore. A series of public houses instead of her plying her trade as either a funerary overseer, scholar, or just musician. Her home accommodations were definitely more grand than to which she was subjected in places like Avonshire - not that it was bad, mind you, just not as haute as she was raised with. And she did tend toward expensive tastes from time to time. Upon entering, she made a beeline for Rickard's table and, albeit without express permission, settled into a seat on the opposite side. Her swordbelt hung neatly on the back of the chair.

Yes, there were glances at her burlap-wrapped companions from the very few people in the taproom. This was nothing that she hadn't dealt with since her more morally ambiguous abilities manifested. But as the Elf hadn't seen but a parlor trick to represent who she was and what she did, bringing Morty along seemed to be an expedient way of shattering any misconceptions or misunderstandings on the outset, provided that the warrior could put two and the square root of four together. She smiled but didn't speak; not until Lea tottled over to take her order. Sweetly, Victoria found out what was on their limited menu and chose for herself something simple; fresh bread, butter, fruit and tea. She then leaned in a little and addressed the guy in a rather optimistic tone, "Well. Here we are."

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@Dragoknighte@rivaan@Remipa Awesome@Sigil@Lurking Krog

And the update has been posted, for those of you who missed the notifiation directly next to this one. This can only mean one thing: The day begins anew and the investigation, such as it is, may resume. The world is your oyster, life does not completely suck, and your hit points reflect the relative health that your characters share in the face of almost certain, looming destiny. If that was not entirely clear a description, it's only because I meant it to be that way.

As always, hit me up in the Discord for questions, concerns, or for a good Hollandaise derivative. HELP, I meant. Help. The sauce will work itself out. Maybe. And as always, my appreciation for taking part in this strange little adventure. Let's get the events eventing now, shall we?

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Weather: Chilly, but a little more hospitable than an hour prior.

Time: Morning! Early morning, just past dawn.

Ambience: Still foggy. From the looks of things though, this is apt to change soon. The sun has asserted itself more prominently in the sky, bathing the Township of Avonshire with steady, pale light. The cold's edge has been blunted, as has the soupy thickness of the fog. Because of this, vision is significantly less restricted. There is a sheen of frost along most hard surfaces, windows, and anything still within the shadow of structures which the sun has not yet touched. It is autumn in Avonshire, which has come to mean cold nights and cool but milder days, even if the transition from one to the other takes a couple hours.

The exhalations of the earlier risers on the streets condenses and wisps away in billowy masses, giving the appearance of smoke or the like. A pair of children accompanying their father to his business take advantage of this, scrambling with boundless energy to pretend that they are dragons in flight, having at one another with their scorching breath. With no clear winner to their imaginary aerial duel, they enter a nearby structure, promising one another to pick back up where they left off the next morning.

Emanating from the Farmers' Market is the most encouraging scent of pork fat and woodsmoke, elements of seasoning jumbling together, all as the wind sees fit to send a gust in your direction. The pitmasters of the region are apparently still at their craft in anticipation of the event later this day. It is a welcome contrast to the more acrid smells of early morning industry, such as livestock and tanners' crafts, for example.

The sound of a hammer hitting metal can be heard across the thoroughfare from the Hayloft and next door to the Public House - the Fields Stable and Farrier appears to be open for business. Another early riser, it seems. The same Human who accepted the mule and wagon seems to be fitting a horseshoe first thing in the morning, his simple forge in the front of the establishment having come to life and providing ample heat for the veteran tradesman to ply his trade in relative comfort.

Neil & Bob's Public House

The highly toothsome smells of fresh bread and searing, smoky meat waft out of the kitchen of Neil & Bob's. This has positive effects on some of the boarders, negative effects on others. One can tell who those are very quickly. As a few shuffle out of the common sleeping area, rubbing sleep from their eyes, others still make a more or less civilized beeline for the door, going to parts unknown or parts very known to vent foulness from themselves birthed of overindulgence the night before.

These factors make for a very subdued setting within the Public House. Perhaps three of the table are occupied, and sparsely. Robert isn't immediately available in the taproom, nor is Daisy (though sounds of labor come from the kitchen that suggests her presence there). Lea is around, however, looking fairly haggard as if she did not get the fullest night of sleep she might have liked. The tavernlady moves to take orders for a simple breakfast - this is not a menu sort of place - for fare that almost borders on middle-class.

The bread is fresh and steamy hot, having just come from an oven a recently. The call for Bacon is responded to with strips of seared, heavily smoked pork; about as close to bacon as one might get without actually being sliced fatback. "Oh, Mister Elf, sir," Lea began in response to Rickard's order, "Eggs are a special order. I'll see what I can do." A credit to her profession of hospitality, she does return with good news about eggs, and after a few minutes more she returned with the requested ovoid delights. Otherwise, the simple nature of the business kept their food selections to a dense, local bread, butter, gravy, smoked pork, tea, and water. Wine and ale were present upon request, though it might be considered a bit early to hang a buzz around one's head. Apples and pears were available as well; the apples looked in better condition than the pears. The food was very simple, well prepared, and mildly seasoned - excellent for those with un-elaborate tastes.

Relative warmth waited for those entering the establishment, though it was not the only place one might go that hour.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Victoria Belmont Half-Elf, Bard, Level 3 HP: 23 / 23 Armor Class: 15 Conditions: N/A Location: The Hayloft Action: Prestidigitation, Note of Undeath Bonus Action: Morty Reaction: N/A

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Victoria did not sleep with the comfort and feeling of safely that a child might at home in bed. It was better than the cool night she spend in the mausoleum two nights prior, leaning against her small cart with Morty keeping watch, and in truth was about as restful as the night she spent in The Infamous Pear the previous evening. The level of privacy felt about the same. Instead of being in a room with two other strangers, she was now in a moderately heated-ish open air loft with almost strangers that she had known for a little over a day now. A bedroll atop bales of hay with a blanket to cover near to a glowing brazier wasn't the worst way to get a night's rest.

There was the occasional stirring in over the course of the night as watch changed and new wood was added to the brazier. During those times Victoria's eyes would sleepily open, noting the change in position of her allies and Morty's steadfast stillness, bell firmly grasped in its mouth. Then she would shift a little and slip back into reasonably fitful sleep. This continued until the first light of day hinted at its arrival from around the edges of the doors. The reality that they were in a town that, for all intent and purpose was potentially hostile ground, settled into her thoughts, prompting a more full entry into consciousness. They were there for a job. More specifically, they were there for a potentially profitable investigation. Oh yes, that "common good" thing, too. Lest she forget. So when Marita approached to rouse her, Victoria was quite ready to be roused. "Good morning, Marita," she said with a cheerfulness which she did not completely embrace.

A quick mental command called Morty over to her as she sat up in her makeshift bed. The bell made a little noise in transit; enough to make Victoria wince, expecting a full knell to sound instead of the tiny brassy report which did. She smiled at her own foolishness and reclaimed the bell from her porcine thrall, wrapped the clapper snugly, and replaced it in her chest. A moment of concentration brought with it tendrils of unseen necromantic energy to reinforce her connection to the piggy wonder and extend its animation for a few more hours.

While she was at it, a sly look in the direction of the Monk's belongings brought back the memory of a discussion from the night before. Victoria rose, stretching her whole body out and showing off the fine silk of her modest(ish) undergarments, and claimed two things from his belongings - a shortbow and a quiver of arrows - both of which formerly belonged to the Goblins they slaughtered the day before. The quality was surprisingly adequate of, if a bit plain. These went into her chest with what appeared to be a set of alternate equipment and clothing. Mostly clothing. "If he comes back, I just borrowed them." The words were stated very flatly. Her expression contained a wry smile.

Following this and a few practices of basic hygiene, which was a priority for her generally and especially while around people with which she was not intimately comfortable, Victoria propped her cosmetics kit on top of her traveling chest and opened it gingerly. Careful, dexterous hands applied various products of her trade and choosing, accenting her already striking features subtly; the goal was not to appear as a work of art more than a creature of divine, approachable, natural beauty. It was a craft of which she excelled. She did add a hint of boldness around her eyes, truth told, but nothing remotely like the funerary display from yesterday. Satisfied, Victoria donned her slim coat, affixed her silver, raven skull brooch below her neckline, and buckled on her swordbelt. Her swashbucklingly notable hat made its way into her hands.

"Well then ladies," she began with a smile and a swoop of her most bardiest of headwear, "I rather feel like having something hot, and, perhaps a bit of fresh fruit this morning. If you will excuse me, myself and my faithful Morty will abscond to the Public House for this morning's repast. It's time I formally introduce myself to the town anyway, and we've quite the day ahead of us, yes?" Morty trotted onto the block and tackle lift, ready to be lowered to the ground floor. "Good boy, Morty. Good boy."

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@Dragoknighte@rivaan@Remipa Awesome@Sigil@Lurking Krog

I'll bet you were wondering why I asked for that darn perception check in the Discord, hmm? Well, too bad. Update is in the IC, doing what it does best; UPDATING. The conversation in the middle of it is what can be heard and/or detected by the person who has taken the last watch of the evening/early morning, looking out of a crack in the door and listening quietly. Just setting the stage for intrigue and questions.

Otherwise, a new day is dawning in Avonshire, rise and greet it! And was always, I am avainable to answer questions and the like. Yay!

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Weather: Cold, but not freezing.

Time: Early! And it's about time, too.

Ambience: The fog is beginning to lift. It is still quite foggy, but this can be more readily seen through because of the cold, grey light of the early dawn. This weak light has enough illumination to highlight the sheen of frost that covers the cobblestone of the street and most other surfaces. The frost did not touch the inside of the hayloft, nor did it penetrate the sanctity of Neil & Bob's (though one can see the telltale frosted windowpanes were they to push a curtain back).

It is as comfortable as one might expect within the Public House, owing to the more insulated structure but not amazingly comfortable bedding. Comparatively, the Hayloft is more snug than one might have given it credit, particularly on its upper level. In short, all individuals are comfortable enough to have gotten the benefits of a long rest.

There isn't much movement in the Township right now. Perhaps in the outlying farms; not much closer in. For the most part, people are sticking to their homes. Lots to drink the night before thanks to the festival, and the fact that most of the businesses are catering to these people, means that things are slow to start this frosty morning. The fires in kitchens (including in the Public House) are being stoked by their caretakers, establishment employees, and the like.

---

Outside of Neil & Bob's Public House, on the other hand, a conversation is taking place:

"No, Constable. Wasn't no more ruckus that happens usually, this time of year."

"Don't lie to me, Robert. I received a report that you had some trouble here. Outsiders." The Constable rested his hand on the head of his very fine warhammer, which seemed to give off the faintest glow in the dim light of the morning.

"Yeah there was. And it wasn't anything more than what happens usually, this time of year. Like I just said, Cavendish."

"Watch that tone, Barkeep. I can drag you off for harboring criminals. Doesn't matter to me if my stuck-up cousin sent them. Now you're going to tell me what you found out about them, or, well... you know what happens next."

A spark of defiance never left Robert's speech as he replied, albeit just a hair deflated, "The womenfolk from out of town mostly just drank wine and asked customers about Goblins. One of them got approached by the door and embarrassed the man. Another one got in a scuffle. Nothing I'd draw attention to. Man didn't like being showed up by girls, his buddies lied for him. The others were fine with spending good silver, and I was fine with talking it."

"Mmm hmm. And they got beds here last night, right?" The Constable seemed very eager to get into the building in that moment.

"Back off, Cavendish. They aren't here. I don't know where they are. Or the L'Roses. But my actual guests are stirring."

This seemed to satisfy Cavendish, who nodded his head thoughtfully and asked directly, "How much you know about what's going on? The question was highly vague and out of place, to the point of being a non sequitur.

"Not a damn thing."

"Keep it that way," Cavendish responded with a condescending smile. "Unless I tell you otherwise." The man turned and walked back up the road from which he came.

---

Neil & Bob's Public House

The locals and temporary lodgers of the Public House are beginning to stir. A couple of them, anyway. The shuffling about of feet on the floor and coverings rustling quietly, altogether, make notable noise in the relative quiet of the very early morning. One might have a good idea as to the severity of alcohol's aftereffects based upon other quiet noises made in dismay, from those who were aware of their surroundings enough to do so.

Many of the gathered bodies in the common sleeping area let out more noticeable groans of displeasure as a loud thunk could be heard elsewhere in the building, as if a heavy weight had unintentionally landed on the floor. This was followed by what was probably swearing, based upon the abrupt nature of the vocal utterance, but this was a difficult fact to verify on account of the walls intervening. Those who could stayed exactly where they were in their early morning repose, while two sat on the edge of their straw beds, hoping their heads would clear a little more before rising and greeting the day was necessary.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Victoria Belmont Half-Elf, Bard, Level 3 HP: 23 / 23 Armor Class: 15 Conditions: N/A Location: The Hayloft Action: Minor Illusion, Prestidigitation Bonus Action: Morty Reaction: N/A

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Victoria gave a listen to what the rest of her party had to say. More than that, she took the occasion to really give consideration toward these people she had met just the day before yesterday. These were the ones that stuck around, after all was said and done thusfar, and looked like they would be the ones with which she would have to put some parcel of trust. Probably not all at once, though. Knightly type, godly type, spellcaster. Well, she'd associated with less reputable people before. Even so, and despite their newness as an investigative group, Victoria believed that she would always be something of an outsider among them, for reasons both obvious and hidden.

But to the topic at hand, which she addressed after she gathered up her bedroll and blanket and placed them on conveniently arranged hay bales to form a sort of rustic twin bed near a wall, her backpack and errant cart forming a partially sectioned off area which gave a suggestion of personal space. To verbalize her thoughts, she mentioned, "My concern, for what it's worth, is not with the people who are still missing. I am curious as to the ones who vanished and then returned. It is unfortunate that we do not know who those people are."

She gave a lightly amused smile, recounting the events from earlier involving the crowd of drunken reprobates outside of the Public House. Wryly, Victoria commented, "I doubt that I will be able to be as effective an investigator in this small town, due to my flagrant display of magic earlier. I might even be suspect, at least until I have time to spin the incident to the public." In her estimation, it was a mistake to imply servitude to some eldritch horror when accosted by the locals, when loud and cutting remarks designed to draw attention to herself might have accomplished the same outcome, more or less. An addendum to that thought immediately followed, with some importance; only because the nature of their work contained subterfuge. Otherwise, the full brunt of her ability to inspire fear was fully appropriate.

This thought flowed over into another point made by Kosara, about her safety, "No, you should not 'protect me' to the exclusion of our reason to be here. I have proven that I can handle myself. And I have a Morty!" The last sentence was punctuated by a sudden upbeat tone as she recalled a detail from the previous day that, in the hustle of the day, she had forgotten. Victoria's dexterous hands lifted the lid of her traveling chest. From this elegant box she produced a bundle of cloth and a signalling bell, which she had purchased in Darenby the previous day. "Marita, it's only fair that I take a turn at watch." A devious look crossed her features as she knelt in front of her carefully wrapped, animated swine and placed the handle of the bell into its mouth. A brief expression of concentration followed, and Morty, bell clasped firmly, stepped near to the edge of the loft floor. From this vantage, one could see the doors at either side of the structure readily. "But I simply must get my rest. You understand."

Feeling very pleased with herself, Victoria returned to her pallet with the bundle of cloth and turned back around, waving her hands in front of her as if wiping condensation away from a window. Instead of making vision clearer, the motion left behind it the growing image of a privacy screen, five feet wide and just tall enough for her to see over. Satisfied, the perky Half-Elf shuffled off her working gear and clothing, applying minor magics for the sake of cleanliness all the while. She regarded her own lithe, svelte form for a moment, then sighed softly, nodded, and pulled on a set of black silk garments which were stylish, functional, and displayed relative modesty, not unlike the set she had just removed and magically laundered.

A wave dismissed the privacy screen. Victoria set to adding an insulating layer of clothing atop her undergarments as it was still not an ideally comfortable temperature, even with the brazier burning nearby. To no one in particular, she mentioned, "The feeling which came over me, of being watched?" her head shook slowly, "Did not occur in the cemetery itself, nor on the walk to it. It was only while returning from the cemetery. Just to clarify." Then, the Bard changed the subject again, motioning to her pig, "So yes, if two sets of eyes are better than one, then there is my turn at watch. Morty is tasked with ringing that bell if he detects anything (aside from one of us) entering this building." Utilitarian uses for Necromancy was a stiff drawing point for Victoria, as she did like making herself useful most of the time. "Sleep tight, everyone. Oh, don't forget to feed the brazier when your watch comes up. It's quite chilly out there." She smiled and snuggled into her makeshift but still fairly comfortable bed, eyes staring at the soft, red-orange glow of their only active source of light and heat. While Victoria was still willing to entertain light conversation, she was most definitely settling in for the night.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@Dragoknighte@rivaan@Remipa Awesome@Sigil@Lurking Krog

Alright, my multigendered funhouse! (still working on that opener) The update is both Up and Dated. Like I mentioned in the Discord Announcements channel, this is really more of a bump than it is meant to convey information. Have at it, talk amongst yourselves, etc. Plot in our Discord, in the OOC, whatever, and if questions are to be had, please drop me a message. Thanks!

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Weather: Around 34^oF, 1^oC.

Time: Quite later.

Ambience: Deep fog. Tiny ice crystals form and dissipate in the fog; which is doing an excellent job of making sight fuzzy. What little light is present this night comes from the nearly full moon poking through the terrestrial cloud cover, which is simply not remarkable of intensity.

To give a brief description of the interior of the Hayloft - This is a tidy and well maintained building, be it sparsely appointed. Items of note:

• Several bales of new hay
• a presently unused lamp
• a few barrels (at least one containing fresh, clean water)
• a small cart
• the block and tackle lift for moving cargo between levels
• a ladder leading to the upper floor

The personal belongings of the party are present, what was not taken with them. Additionally, so are Hugh's items, which I should probably list here.

Backpack, containing:

• Bedroll
• Blanket
• Case, Map or Scroll
• Cook's Utensils
• Crowbar
• Ink (1 oz. bottle)
• Ink Pen
• Mess Kit
• Parchment (x5)
• Playing Card Set
• Rations (x15)
• Rope, Hemp (50 ft)
• Shortbow
• Thieves' Tools
• Tinderbox
• Torch
• Waterskin

Quiver (x2), containing

• Arrows (30)

There is still no sign of the errant Monk.

Also, recall that items were left in the wagon, which is presently across the street in the Farrier's/Stable; now closed up for the evening.

Moving on, the hayloft is mostly bathed in a dim, red-orange light, thanks to the brazier on the top level. There is just enough light to see by, barely. It is easier to catch details on the top level, where the source of the light rests. It is still not ideal. One can still see well enough to navigate, though again, reading might pose difficulties for now. There are large, double doors on either side of the hayloft on the ground floor, which for now are closed soundly and barred. Likewise, there are two doors on the upper level, these no less snug in their frames than their larger, vehicle-intended brethren below.

Neil & Bob's Public House

The common sleeping room of Neil & Bob's Public House has not changed in the last few minutes. The rows of beds lay as they had, occupied by the forms of sleeping individuals making the various noises that a predominately Human crowd might. The horrifying colonic winds which had wafted silently (beyond its emergence into the open air, anyway) across the room did its best to make life perious, and eventually faded into the background. Whether this is an effect of honest dispersal or simply nose blindness is up for debate.

The candle-lights on either end of the room have burned out, allowing for darkvision to be utilized with majority of effectiveness. There are two other beds in this room toward the center which are empty, their basic coverings set neatly atop the foot of those beds.

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Alright, folks! Let the continuing continue!

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Victoria Belmont Half-Elf, Bard, Level 3 HP: 23 / 23 Armor Class: 15 Conditions: N/A Location: The Hayloft Action: N/A Bonus Action: Morty Reaction: N/A

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Victoria tried to smile at what she felt was misguided optimism on Kosara's part. Perhaps the Bard's sarcastic inflection which marked her earlier words did not present sharply enough, as to communicate the appropriate nuance. She debated taking the wiser course of action; that being keeping quiet and giving some sort of mysterious, half contemplative smile, but in the end just couldn't help herself. "In just a moment's reconsideration, I have no desire to spend half or more of my money on furnishings for a place that we're not going to be in for very long, and, you know - isn't ours." Maybe it was the wine from earlier loosening her tongue. Or just irritation at the evening's events. Likely it was a combination of both.

She sighed, forcing her voice to soften as she responded to the Tiefling's expression of gratitude, "Sorry. And you're welcome." Victoria began to question her original assessment of how much wine she had consumed so far this evening. Maybe in hindsight, she could stand to have another glass before calling it a night, just to loosen up. But that did remind her that she had an announcement for the whole group, "The locals were..." She paused, trying to figure out the most appropriate phrasing, "...kind enough to donate multiple bottles of wine to the ceremony. The bereaved were not interested in keeping them." For emphasis, Victoria stepped back to her small errand cart and nudged it with a foot. The bottles jostled just enough to give a short symphony of clinks and hollow ringing sounds audible from the ground level of the loft before falling back to silence.

By the time Victoria stepped back to the edge, overlooking the level below, Kosara was in mid-disrobe. The Half-Elf froze, her face flushing slightly despite her features refusing to show a difference of expression. When Victoria realized that she was beginning to stare, she quickly averted her gaze with a whisper of, _{"...different lifetime..."} and reacted to what was being said. "Municipal, um, Municipal Building. In my home city, it's used for matters of law, keeping records, taxes, and is a meeting place for city officials. Governing persons of the city. And for the Sheriff, town guard, so forth, to keep office. This is a small place and it's surrounded by farms, but, is the Constable the only person of authority here, that he personally can shut everything else down? If - what was his name - Cavendish? If he's responsible for something, I doubt it's just him." Without proof, anything she said was going to be supposition. Conjecture at best. But it got her fairly agile mind working on something aside from its previous train of thought.

Thinking about things, she piped up, "And no, I haven't seen Hugh at all since I left for the funeral. If he isn't back by morning, I recommend we split up his gear and sell what we don't want for pocket money." Victoria's mind flashed back to their post-battle conversation much earlier that day, with the condescending vitriol he refused to let go. She didn't consider herself vindictive, though she might be wrong about that. Introspection wasn't how she made her living.

But to actual business, Victoria gave a listen to what Kathryn and Marita had to say. She gave a wry smile at the fact that the Cleric had withheld the paper she did until this point. She was glad to have the information, granted, but she couldn't help thinking that if it were her with this information and she held it back, it would be for the purpose of holding an advantage of some kind. Marita didn't seem like she was as ethically flexible as Victoria, herself, though the smile suggested that the thought was being entertained at the very least. She was ready to address the points raised by her colleagues, but first felt the need to say, "Might we please stop talking about the non-existent kitchen?" She looked around, honestly amazed that her act of sarcasm was a point of serious conversation. "So, I agree that the victims seem to come from different social strata. And those are just the ones that disappeared and didn't come back. In any case, I really didn't learn anything of great value, I don't believe." She bobbed her head from side to side, mulling over her evening prior to coming to the Public House, and mentioned, "Cecily and Lizbeth have taken up in a boarding house near the Silversmith's place. Um, I'm not particularly fond of this fog, either. And one more thing, so long as it was brought up - When I was coming back from the cemetery, I did feel like I was being watched. I said nothing for fear of upsetting Mrs. L'Rose or Lizbeth, but it happened."