The Reverend quietly asked for a pint of what Martin was having and took a sip of it before speaking.

"Will we have enough men for this search for Mistress Durbin?" he asked.

"Come evening, yes - but with the handful here now and those women that can be spared, that's enough to make a start," the landlord replied, watching the vicar partake with mild curiosity.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:24, Fri 03 Sept 2021.

"Yes that will be enough, to many and we might miss something..... I can take my cart for those who have a mind to help." He took a sip of the beer.



-

John nodded, helping George back up to his stool and leaning forward on the bar. "If there's elders wanting to come, that might save a walk," he agreed, saying nothing of bodies.  Behind and beside him, Hessie and Beth reappeared, the latter holding a cock pheasant that seemed somewhat stunned.

"Ah, you got him! Show-"

The outside door flew open at this juncture and disgorged a stumbling muddle of agitated young men. "She's not there!" Sam Smith declared.

"There was a hare took off from her garden!" William Ragge added, dragging his breathless-bent brother upright - this one was Henry from the small ways the Ragge males could be told apart, slightly shorter and squarer than Will and clearly collected on the way. Both were florid from running.

In the kitchen:

Maggie leads Mercy to the kitchen door, that being her usual mode of entry at the inn from long custom as she's a friend of the family and a casual worker.

"Mornin' Miz Collins!" she sings out, "Big doings t'day, eh? Would be convenient for me t'get my breakfast now? I did the rooms upstairs this morning." The crust of yesterday's bread she'd had earlier and the small mouthful of beer with it was quite used up with her exertions.

"Oh, and here's Goody Westcott I've brought along with me."


[[GM edit: clarity/continuity.]]
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:01, Mon 06 Sept 2021.

Nancy filled a readied bowl with mutton curry and rice and stuck a generous slice of buttered bread in the stew side, handing it over before replying. "That's as well, Maggie."

"Mercy, there's a mad pheasant Beth and Hessie took out to the taproom just now - you might want to give the men a notion on what's wrong with that. Unless someone's taken sick here?"

"Hares have been known to be in gardens and stranger places," he said, taking a sip of the sweet concoction he was sipping on presently. He certainly didn't want to encourage any flights of fancy, more than those which were necessary.

"Well then where's Goodie Westcott?" Sam demanded, "-or Meg Yendale who said she'd go there and vanished, too?"

Henry Ragge puffed, straightened and went over to Andrew. "Here, Mouse, let's see the hole in you, then," he said, reaching over to try and prod at the bandage to see where the carpenter jumped. "Is it big? That'll be one to tell the girls about, eh, won't it?"

Andrew set down his cup and shook his head at Henry with a rueful smile. ”I think the only thing I’m going to gain from it will be an ugly scar. I doubt it will help my already poor chances with the girls. Once they hear the story, I’m afraid they will more likely to conclude that I’m foolish, rather than brave.”

Sighing at the truth of the realization, he turned his attention to John Collins. ”Mister Collins, does anyone have an idea of where Miss Durbin was last seen? Any sense of what business she was about on that day?”

"Ar, that's all in the telling - you says you were fighting it off, right? Grabbed it by the antlers, saving some child, or women," Henry mimed such a grab, which was a bit more believeable from a ploughman who worked with heavy horses, and mimed wrenching a beast enthusiastically to the side. "No need to tell 'em you've got sawdust for brains then, eh?"

Mrs. Criddle proved herself still present by stepping in to answer: "It's her parents would've seen her last, unless someone saw her out on the road that morning. Ask them if they beat her, I say, then look about ditches to find if she died of a bleed."

Beth came behind the bar and placed the pheasant on it between the doctor and the vicar. Master Fox leaned to see, astonished to observe it truly was still alive.

11:37, Today: Andrew Sexton rolled 78 using 1d100.  Spot Hidden.


Andrew winced at the “sawdust for brains” comment, secretly certain that there were several at the tavern who likely considered Henry’s appraisal accurate. He blinked when Mrs. Criddle spoke up, unsure at first how to respond to her suggestion.

Managing a smile, he told Henry, ”I’m a bit doubtful that any here in Scorch Norton would believe that I was actually that heroic.”

Clearing his throat, he added, ”But speaking with Polly’s parents is a sound idea. If they haven’t done as Mrs. Criddle suggested, it might be that they would remember something of import from the last time that they saw her.”

"Well, how should I know? Probably unhexing someone's cattle, and not in leporine form, to what I'm sure is everyone's great disappointment." He didn't agree with Westcott's approach to problem solving, as it were, but he was no more of a fan of spurious claims about her transforming into a hare.



"Reverend Palmer, I believe we have ourselves a pheasant. Is this the best place to exorcise it of evil spirits before we have someone prepare it for a feast, or should we perhaps take it out back?" he asked dryly.

"It smells strange, sir," Beth said, and very slowly and carefully let the pheasant go. The bird stayed sat on the counter for a full two seconds, then slowly stood up, giving a quiet *tuk*tuk* in his throat.  George, delighted, leant and patted the bar in an attempt to get the strangely tame gamebird to come over.

"Excorsise it? Surely the thing's stunned itself on a window, distracted by the glass," Master Fox said, indicating the pheasant with his beer.

"Well, there's some plot afoot," Sam muttered, at present defeated by the light of Science.

Henry prodded Andrew in the shoulder, having clearly decided that the latter was seeking his advice in matters of his evident expertise. "Then you tells the coach ladies, right? See, being proper is your problem. Some of those fancy ma'ams would hop right on at the mere scent of ye, shown willing, but don't ask don't get, am I right, Will?"

"Aye that. Might get your face slapped twice, but it's worth it if the next one slaps your ar-"

John Collins set a tankard down rather forcefully and frowned at the Ragge brothers present. "If we could get back to the matter in hand?"

Henry dropped his voice to Andrew, respecting the landlord's authority if not in the least bit ashamed of himself. "See, Mizzus Criddle thinks they'd strap 'er something fierce 'cause I had it from our Sal that that Polly was off from the May Revels with a boy. May night? It's more than kissing, that."

John let the murmuring lapse. "Would you do that yourself, then, Master Sexton? It would be more restful than the field search, as I'm sure Doctor Lovelace would agree."

"Shall we make a time to meet to begin the search. We have a rough idea where she was last seen so shall we begin there ?" Thomas gives a glance in the direction of Hester Collins, but nothing more then that as he is eager to start the search.



-

Maggie comes through from the kitchen, carrying her dish of curry and sits at the first empty table she comes to.

"Georgie, will ye fetch a tankard o' small?" She smiles at the sight of the pheasant on the bar, then drops her eyes and utters a short blessing on her food. Looking up again, she says, "Mercy Westcott's in kitchen with Mrs Collins. I fetched her."

Then she began to eat.

"Indeed, that is a rather foul stench. I would not consider this bird fit for a feast."

Upon Maggie's declaration gave a very particular look to William Ragge and Sam as well.

OOC:

16:24, Today: Martin Lovelace rolled 51 using 1d100.  Spot Hidden (60).

"How'd you fetch her?" the blacksmith asked Maggie, nothing if not dogged. "We didn't see you going, nor coming back."

The trip to the table was both slow and tantalising, since when Nancy Collins meant to feed someone, she surely fed them; Maggie's bowl was piled full and smelled delicious. Hessie slipped in near the bar to collect the order from her littlest brother and brought it over when Maggie had folded herself onto a chair.

The pheasant took a couple of uncertain steps along the bar, then paused. Although not known for intelligence in the first place, this one seemed passive as a puppet despite the presence of several humans nearby.

"I was thinking four for the main sweep, since most would be done with what's urgent by then," John Collins said, answering Tom's query. "Though it's true that with those here we could work west from her house and swing around north if all agree to that."

"Mm, that comes close up by the Wyzenwood, doesn't it," Master Fox observed with a nervous twitch of a smile, all attention now. "I'll come along on this first foray myself and leave word that my house staff should join the later search, in the event we have no luck."

"Thank you, Master Fox. As for where she was last seen, I doubt you'll get into her house or her room. The Reverend might be able to take a look, or the doctor, given reason, but not all of us, that's for sure, whatever there is to be learned there."

The reverend leaned in and took a whiff of the odor coming off the pheasant.

09:43, Today: Reverend Palmer rolled 68 using 1d100.  Spot Hidden (25)

He wrinkled his nose. "Oh, that is dastardly."

He pinched his nose with his fingers and retreated a few steps. "Maybe a beast died in one of the ponds and its rotting carcass is poisoning the water the animals drink from? It would explain the smell, wouldn't it, Doctor?"

Andrew nodded. ”I will gladly speak to Polly’s parents, Mister Collins, though I can’t guess what they might be willing to tell me. I don’t know either of them well.”

“However, I would also like to take part in the search. Doctor Lovelace and Mister Phippen have set me right with regard to my injury. I might be a bit slower than the rest, but I think I’m up to it.”

"Wellll..." Maggie drawls between swallows, "I reckon we coulda flew on broomsticks... but we just used the woods path, ye looby!" She chuckles as she sops her bowl with the last of her bread.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:05, Sun 12 Sept 2021.

"Yes, some exposure to water or another substance with this smell would be sufficient to impart said odor onto this poor fowl, without said rot needing to emanate from this very creature. That might prove a sound explanation." The various conversations occurring simultaneously left him a bit distracted on all fronts, especially as he heard his name mentioned a few times.

"I can make an attempt, perhaps, accompanied by the Reverend, of an inquiry into the contents of her room - if there were something that might shed light on anything."

"Now...what's this here now...something seems a little off here!" Quietly, and slowly, he moved a hand nearer the bird to see if it would flinch.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:25, Mon 13 Sept 2021.

The pheasant ignored the doctor's reaching until he was quite close, then obediently stepped forward, placing his hand around its throat. *tuk.*

Thomas was not one for superstition, witchcraft or truth be told religion but this was all something very different. He watched the bird like everyone else from the relative "safety" of his table as he took another sip.

He dropped his tankard a little hard to the wood when the bird placed it neck in the Doctor's hand. Thomas also said something under his breath as a small wave of beer slopped on the table.


-

He kept his hand in place in the event that he should have some need to seize the thing by the throat, but refrained from doing so at the moment. He took his other hand and attempted to swipe the droplet of the very dark, slightly greenish substance he had noticed at the corner of the pheasant's beak and its eye.

"No, it does not appear this bird is well at all. Clearly some type of malady is at foot, though not one I'm familiar with. At least not one that I've witnessed in people."