As the cheers and applause died down at the end of the bard's performance, the bartender continued filling tankards of ale and glasses of wine, the bread-bowl soup being served up in generous portions, but eventually as the night grew darker, people began to drift away to the rooms they were keeping for the night, to the stables for those who chose such quarters as that, or to their own homes for the locals who had come for the food and entertainment.

Through the night, a gentle rain drummed against the roof for a fair potion of the night hours, though giving way to quiet wind well before the first lightening of the sky.

By the time that dawn's light had reached the sky, the aroma of sizzling ham and sausages reached into the rooms to call the guests back to break their fast, with eggs, flatcakes, and fruit also available.  In the morning, the locals were not present, and all the guests together would not quite half-fill the tables in the room, two of the large tables being taken by the group that appeared to be sell-swords in the employ of the wealthier-appearing man.

((Feel free to backfill the end of the evening in your posts))

Annya had reflected on the ending of the minstrel's saga, finding herself intrigued with the tale, and different from other such sagas put to music of which she was familiar.     There was, somehow, a sense of significance about it...that she couldn't at all put a finger on.    Her vocation what it was, she didn't write that off, but instead continued to reflect on it before she turned in for her bed.    Before leaving Odette, she thanked the gold-eyed gnome for her company this eve, and her hopes that things would work out the way she wished with the forge-master.

Annya's slumbers were peaceful enough, as was usually the case for her.  Though she did have something of a memorable dream.      Some time after the dawn, she washed, dressed, then made her way back down to the now more spacious common room.

Once one or both were also present, she made it a point to hail her fellow Neroli, and to introduce herself-

Zaryk and/or Jex-

[Language unknown: "Plnaon ce whi.   Ou Ndeantrut Liinpl ritaecie, e Iliosiar ceen, ic an Ur o Wila.  E utss reaounthi of aicon onll Wilus, ticev hison Wilillstr us e houromamethi.   Asna'utdi M toaiev andithhassti peca oussuson ei manndestr derthe'tratra, p ng ismo ai ionof ar as uswer tiofol nti."     ]

Garrik had a long night and that suited him just fine.  No one bothered him, no one talked down to him (figuratively or literally) and he'd gotten he first decent sleep in some time.  Waking up late he came into the main room and glanced around to see who was still around and what he could hear.  He'd caught snippets of some of the locals talking about missing sheep and he was considering following up on it if only to see if he could replenish some of the coin he'd spent on this latest journey.

When he caught the eye of the waitress his words were just as simple, "Breakfast.  And some of that same ale you gave me last night."

Zaryk enters the common room in the morning, with a grin on his face. [Language unknown: U caun ectool, Ersouling. Vor as ut hine stacomcomint ro ou erenpr!] The cat gives him a lick on the cheek and then bounds off his shoulder and out the front door.

The room is not nearly as full as the previous night. He notes that the rich looking man and his guards are present; as well as Jex'Kannon who was speaking to the female Neroli.

Stepping up to the pair and says, [Language unknown: "Riei ingineica Fomipeurin, Li sta icoul paompl ionsa p aiosca io whwit."] Turning to the female, he bows formally, [Language unknown:  "Omestitraout, butndeundtintha. A ul Tioartted nceall'ratshe ol set Oeroulionrea hismi. La om ngac thto os liei hou vir acter terlinund, tangfi'wiom, conhe hi concomhas. Oerintome ca nceverwil il hatbletha u seatro der he?"]

Looking around, he chooses a table away from the tables of sell-swords, who are overly noisy, even in the morning. Zaryk recognizes the gnome sitting at the next table from the previous evening; unlike any other gnome that Zaryk had met, this one was very dour looking.

Nonetheless, Zaryk smiles and says, [Language unknown: "Ofolerun, besa naers. Wi e Eksapa, onwhi asaiut stien ni hisare'ineman, Ectoerterrompre ore Nocase. Reseauble ichet atica iv p eauel ter?"]

---

Zaryk will provide his background to Annya if asked.

If the bard appears, he will be welcome to join their table. Zaryk will compliment him on his fine performance the previous night.

Zaryk will ask if any of his companions will be participating in the competition. And he will ask Jex if he is planning on heading to the farm today, or if he will wait until after the competition <assuming the competition is today>.

“You’re Gnomish accent is horrible Zaryk, stick to the common tongue around here...” remarked Garrick with a flinch of his left eye and an accent of his own speaking in Calandian.  He then waved his already half empty mug of ale towards the other seats, “You’re welcome to the other seats,” he raised an eyebrow, “not like I own them and your company is better than those loud louts.”

  Jex shook off the grogginess of sleep. He'd slept longer than planned in the soft bed and was loathe to leave it but the smell of breakfast finally lured him to the main room of this inn like no other. The archer was pleasantly surprised to find another elf shortly after he'd sat down. She introduced herself as a priestess from the Autumn's sept and he welcomed her conversation. It wasn't long before the other Neroli from last night joined them for their morning repast and they were soon chatting in the lilting language of elven folk...
________

Jex tells of his own Cloud sept and other personal details, and then his plans to look about the farms after the competition (if it's today) or after breakfast (if it's later)

Always fashionably late.   That's the way of the Bard.  Been that way since time immemorial.   That said, one Jenson Fawkes chose that moment to show up to the common room.   Admittedly, it's with a yawn and a mutter about drinking way too much again.   The bard considered the bar, only to notice Zaryk's prompting to join the group at a table.   He's not like to ignore such an invitation, it seemed, if only because more stories always meant better pay in the next town.

The man let out another yawn, before he bowed in a gentlemanly manner to the Ladies present, and commented in his accented Calan, "An' a good morn t'ya all.  What's a bunch of Ladies an Gents, such as y'selves, gettin' up to at this time of day?"  At which point he spun a chair around backwards to sit in.   His cheshire cat grin broke through a moment later...

XP Line

Annya had inclined her head in response to Zaryk's reply and formal introduction, happy to concur with his suggestion of sharing a table with himself and the others, who'd all been on the periphery of her attention the previous evening.    She was some sad that Odette had likely gone, by now.   But, understood she'd had her own particular path to walk, and that it had seemed to be one that was private and personal.

After learning which sept Jex'Kannon belonged to, Annya paused and frowned a moment - gazing up at the top of his head, as though something was wrong.    She remarked:

"The Gods did a funny thing.   You are Cloud sept.  But your hair is the color of autumn.   I am Autumn sept, but my locks the color of Cloud."    So pronounced, she turned to the very tall, dark haired Zaryk to add-   "And you, you are Shadowtop in truth."

It seemed they'd as well gained one gnome to supplant the absence of another.  She of course remembered the dour seeming fellow from last night.  And was pleased once the minstrel finally came down to join them.     At some point, she hoped to ask some questions of that one, as regards the saga he'd sung.

In the absence of specifics about breakfast, the maid attending the common room brought Garrick what might best be described as a sampler of the breakfast--a small slice of ham, one sausage link, one fried egg, a short stack of two flatcakes, and a small bowl of stewed cherries along with his ale.  Then she moved to the tables of the sell-swords, bringing them more drink, although with an eye back to the tables filling with elves and a half-elf like herself.

Zaryk laughs out loud at Annya's observation. "You are truly observant, Annya!"


"Well met, John. Yours was a wonderful performance last night. We are up, because the sun has risen. As to the day, we are considering helping a local farmer who may have lost some sheep to either a ghost, a wolf, or a goblin! But we are also looking to learn of the sword competition."

Zaryk will wave the serving girl over, "Good sun rise!" he says, a bad translation of a typical elven greeting.

"I am Zaryk na'Liluth of the Shadowtop Neroli. I would like to try that same meal that you delivered to Garrick, it looks delicious! And a cup of watered wine, if you can.

Oh! Would you perhaps know when the sword competition is taking place?"

The young woman returned with Zaryk's order, and said, "Walena is supposed to be in town by midday.  People will start signing up then.  Are you competing?"

"Observation is the cornerstone of wisdom," she offered to Zaryk, "so my mentor taught me. I've some practice in it."

To the minstrel, she put in-  "Perhaps the question is why remain in bed on such a promising morning?   The saga you sang was an enthralling one, rather different from others I've heard.   Did you compose it, or was it taught to you, if you don't mind my asking?"

Given an opening, Annya ordered the same breakfast sampler as had gnome and Neroli, however where it came to beverage-  "Just tea, please.   Rooibos, if you happen to have it.   But anything is fine;  I'm not picky."

Zaryk mentioned the incident with the sheep.  She had already decided, she would offer her services if an investigation was to be performed.

Meals were delivered to the group as they ordered, Annya's tea was honeybush, rather than rooibos.

Zaryk bursts out in laughter, "Perhaps, if they have a novice group, otherwise I doubt my skills would hold up!"

John nodded at Zaryk's assertion, "Oh aye... That got our attention as well.  No wolf 'gob crosses We ever heard of... an' that's for sure.  Likely bluster an' tall tellin' got run away, but certain there be somethin' there.   On that we agree."   He wore an amused smirk at the possibilities...

If nothing else, he seemed quite ready to see how it panned out.  Maybe he'd pen a saga based on the Goblins of Sheeping Fair.   His musings wandered off with Annya's question however, "Nah, our ma's ma brought that one back from the source... Or near's makes n'difference.   Grew up hear'n it ever s'often."   At which point he motioned with a hand about how tall he was at the time... say a might over knee high.

However, the amusement that twinkled in his eyes allows a question of truth.   Because all bards were notorious for collecting stories direct from the source.

"I don't think there'd be a novice group," replied the young woman serving the table.  "But it's still fun to watch."

"I see," Annya responded to the minstrel, sipping at her tea once it was delivered and steeped, and being quite happy with what she received.

"And, if you do not mind another question, sir, what is the locale where those profound events took place?"

She also remarked on the sheep incident-  "My hunch is that they are in truth being rustled.   And, that these ebon 'gobbos' are not merely someone's imaginings run wild."

"I am sure that it will. Does the competition take place today? Or is it just registering to participate?"

---

If the sign-up is around noon, and if the competition is in the afternoon, perhaps we can go check out the farm in the morning?

"I think the first rounds will be in the evening," she replied. "It'll depend on what Walena decides when he gets here."

"My thanks, for the information...er...daughter of Finian."

Addressing his table-mates, "Shall we spend the morning looking into the ghostly-goblin-wolves with a taste for lamb? After we have finished this delicious meal, of course. Hopefully we will be able to return to watch the sword competition in the evening.

Jex'Kannon, do you know where this farm is located?"

"Kalea na'Okipa," supplied the young woman, and as the noises started rising from the tables of the sell-swords, she was off to go get their morning ales replenished.

"Not exactly," replied Jex'Kannon.  "North of the village, but that's not very specific."

Aeryn had spent the night and this morning talking to the locals about any problems they may have. The men about their farms and shops, and the women about their marriages. He had learned a lot, enough to not spend the night alone, at least. After finishing his meal in the morning, he had washed it down with some ale, refilled his water skin, and suited up into his heavy armor. He came down ready to leave and investigate the rumors he had heard until he noticed a table of adventuring-types enjoying their meal and discussing the town.

Aeryn made his way over towards them and introduced himself, looking for companionsip on his trip north "Hello, friends. My name's Aeryn, and I'm looking for some comrades. I've spent the night gathering some news from the locals here, there seems to be some trouble at some farms not too far north of here, I know the way. I'm not sure if it's just a few Kobolds or an army of Orcish Raiders, but I'd appreciate y'all coming along as backup, if you're interested. Of course, any loot would be an equal share between us, I'm not greedy" he looks the table up and down and, with his best smile, says "Whaddaya say, you interested?"

Jensen considered the man's offer, along with the general motley crew already assembled.   He smirked, mostly to himself, before being the first to take up the offer, "Oh, aye.  We're definitely in for a little adventure, n'sure about the rest at this table, but even if for only the story... Be true an' right t'see what kinda trick these goblins run."   The half-elf stuck out a hand to Aeryn, "Long as y'don't mind our... little... quirks, We heard 'em called afore."

He followed up by tapping his saber, and grinned wildly, "Perhaps we know how to work a blade as well... side from singin' a few tunes known t'uplift from problems."  It had always been a question whether any sellsong was just a Minstrel, or truly a Bard.   They were rather few and far between.