Ethel will take 3rd watch - she needs to get at least some rest first.  

Perception:  8

Marrin watches the Ethel decursing show with interest and then a stifled laugh at her comment. She'll respond just as quietly,

"You missed your calling as a snake-oil sales woman Ethel."

 Marrin with double up with someone (presuming the NPCs are helping out?), probably the last watch with Ava, and will spend most of that trying to stay warm and keeping the fire going.

Perception: 7

Jan takes first watch, with Hammerdasher and Geffroi splitting off to join her for an hour or two each.

Not much happens at the start of the night. She does eventually here a small sound of rubble falling. First thoughts are intruders until she notices Dagg begin to snore loudly. Once he fell asleep he must have let the now plain rock roll out of his hand on to the ground. She sees it come to a stop near the large paw of the dire wolf.

Wolfie sits close to Dagg, whether for warmth or affection no one can quite tell. But the dire wolf watches Jan intently as she reacts to the noise.

The first four hours of the night pass, and Jan enters her trance after waking Ethel and Ula.

Ethel finds it difficult to concentrate on any sounds of trouble that might be approaching the group’s campsite. Dagg’s snoring drowns out most other noise. Though at the same time it might be enough to scare most creatures away.

Keeping the fire going is probably of more importance this night anyway. The skies are clear and full of stars. But without a blanket of cloud, the temperatures drop below freezing.

Finally Marrin and Avaria find themselves awake for the last of the night.

Marrin finds herself wanting to shove something large and muffling down Dagg’s throat. But at least the thundering snoring keeps her distracted from how cold it is when you move a little way from the fire.

Avaria on the other hand manages to tune out most of Dagg’s snorts and wheezes, enough so that she puts a hand on Marrin at one point, sure that she’s heard a horse whinny nearby. She strains her eyes and ears and points out to Marrin where she heard the noise. Marrin hears it too once she steps away from the fire. But nothing comes within view. Maybe it was a trick of the night air. Or maybe someone was just making sure you kept your promise.

Either way, when morning comes and the temperature rises ever so slightly, all that are sleeping are woken by Dagg shouting.

“It’s gone. The curse gone. Dagg happy.” Dagg says. He points down at the ground. “See rock gone. Curse rock all gone.”

Jan, having noticed the rock fall early in the night sees that it is indeed gone.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Long Rest for everyone.

Anything anyone needs to/wants to do before Soren leads you on the last leg to Peltarch?

Jan looks to Wolfie and raises a questioning eyebrow.

Ethel is startled awake when Dagg shouts.  Her bones ache from the cold and her joints creak as she rises from her place near the fire.  She blinks wearily, wraps her cloak tighter, and turns toward the booming voice as though she’s not the least bit surprised by the proclamation.

Ethel squints toward where giant was pointing, not seeing her rock anywhere.  She decides it doesn't matter what became of the rock.  What matters is the look on Dagg’s face: pure, childlike triumph.  She lets out a long, low sigh and walks toward him.

“Well then,” she says, voice rough and scratchy, “looks like the Curse-Stone did its job.”  She doesn’t smile, not exactly, but there’s a softened line around her eyes, a glimmer of weary fondness.  She lifts her chin to peer up at him.  “You did well, Dagg.  You listened to my instructions.  That’s no small thing.  It takes strength.  Discipline.”  Her tone makes these foreign words sound heavy and important. “I'm proud of you.”

Then, quietly, as she turns back to the camp to stoke the fire again, Ethel mutters just loud enough for Marrin and Jan to hear:  “Now if only I had a stone to cure snoring.”

But there’s no real bite to it.  Just a cold, tired woman trying to make peace with the impossible shape her life has taken—waking up on a frozen plain with a hill giant who thinks he’s been uncursed and a dire wolf acting like a loyal sheepdog.

Ethel pulls her scarf tighter and starts breaking up more wood, hoping someone might be planning to cook some breakfast.

"Depends on where you stuff it...", Jan whispers back with a soft grin. She stretches as she rouses fully from her trance.

((Speaking of breakfast, I don't seem to have added any rations to Jan's inventory sheet... ))

If there is food to prepare, Marrin would have started it at the end of the watch.

"Great work Dagg. Okay, you two need to head off that direction."

She indicates the appropriate direction.

"Great to meet you both, good luck."

She's cold and ready to not have a hill giant nearby.

Jan gets no reaction or response from Wolfie when she raises an eyebrow at the dire wolf.

Dagg listens intently to Ethel, and a large tear rolls down his cheek when she says that she's proud of him. He leans down and gives Ethel a big hug, almost squeezing too tightly but manages to stop as soon as he registers her discomfort.

Hammerdasher is well underway helping Marrin with breakfast. He's dug out some heavily salted bacon and some other ingredients that they had picked up in Bezentil before heading to the Rawlinswood.

Soren scrambles up the bank and looks off in all directions before disappearing over the ridge and then coming back to the group.

"No one in sight, but I spotted hoof prints not far away." Soren says. "Best finish breakfast quick and get going to Peltarch. Baring anymore distractions we'll be there by the afternoon."

Dagg looks off in the direction Marrin points and then smiles broadly when he looks back at her. He shakes his head no.

"Oh no. Dagg come with you. Dagg have big favor to payback," Dagg says. "Small women save Dagg. No hole. No curse. Dagg stay and save small women."

"Oh for the love of the gods."

Marrin mutters and turns her attention to angrily frying bacon and making porridge.

Avaria smirks at the situation, she can't help it.  Marrin angry about the hill giant, Hammerdasher not happy about it either, and now Ethel has somehow solidified it's need to stay with them.  The whole situation was a comedy to her.  She heads over to Soren and helps him get the horses ready, she's ready to move on as well.  Grabbing a couple of fist fulls of breakfast to keep her belly from going hungry.  The cold was starting to get to her.

Soren suggests that you just get going and maybe Dagg won't be able to keep up and that will solve your current problem. He's not keen on showing up in Peltarch with a hill giant and dire wolf in tow.

You all finish up breakfast, gather your gear and mount up. Dagg sends Wolfie off scouting but as soon as he sees you all ride off, he trots along behind.

The cold of the last few days was merely to get you acclimatized. As you move north, and leave the protection of the hills, woods and ridges behind, the wind howls like a wolf across the frozen expanse, tugging at cloaks and numbing fingers despite thick gloves. Beneath your mount's hooves, the ground is a mix of brittle frost and patches of snow-blanketed scrub, the occasional jagged rock jutting through like the teeth of some buried beast. The sky is a pale sheet of cold gray, and the sun hangs low on the horizon even though it's barely midday—its weak light casting long shadows over the endless white.

As you press onward, the terrain begins to shift—gentle rises and dips hint at buried hills and long-frozen streams. Flocks of dark birds wheel overhead, their caws lost in the wind. In the far distance, smoke curls lazily into the sky, a promise of shelter—or something else.

Over the course of the next few hours you see no sign of any other riders. Dagg drops back at one point but catches up when you break to let the horses drink and rest.

“Ha ha. Like you try lose Dagg,” Dagg says. “But Dagg guess where going now.”

Eventually, a large lake comes into view. Near the closest shore, where a river enters the lake from the mountains to the west, free water still flows, though it’s dotted with small ice bergs. But further out into the lake, and around to the west, the glassy ice appears to be broken only by the occasional fishing hole. You see a small settlement to the west, its crude wooden pier frozen in ice.

You ride closer and see nestled at its southern edge, the village appears like a cluster of huddled figures—timber buildings with steep roofs frosted white, chimneys puffing smoke, and dim orange lights flickering behind ice-caked windows.

You feel the tension ease from your shoulders as you near, though the cold never relents. Somewhere beneath the lake’s frozen surface, fish must move sluggishly in the dark.

Soren reigns up before you enter the village proper.

“Dagg, these people will fear you,” Soren says. “You can’t come with us.”

Dagg just shakes his head, a goofy smile still plastered there.

“Dagg not care. Dagg help small women.”

Ethel looks like she is reeling a little bit as the hill giant gives her a crushing hug.  She is at once horrified by its overwhelming embrace, and yet moved by his child-like innocence.  

As they argue about what to do with Dagg, Ethel shivers in the cold.  

"Perhaps a smaller party could enter Peltarch and perform some reconnaissance while the rest wait outside with Dagg.  Jan's familiar could be a go between if either group encounters trouble."

"We need to find out if beat the Hargreaves here or not and it is probably best if we don't go into town with recognizable faces for when they do arrive."

She look over at Jan,

"You and I can avoid that issue, and they don't know Soren. The rest of you...keep Dagg company."

She doesn't really wait for agreement on the plan and urges Jan and Soren on into the town.

As they ride Marrin's half-elven features disappear and take on the general traits of the female rider they saw the day before. Her hair color and skin tone changes to nearly match the rider's as well.

Avaria's fur blows in the wind as she takes in the view of the small village along the ice laden lake.  This was like no place she'd been before.  At Ethel's words, she starts getting ready to go, but when Marrin leaves her out, she scowls.  She doesn't like the idea of them going without her.  "I guess she's right, it's not like I can hide in plain sight like they can." she mutters.

Jan will nod at Marrin's proposal.

"I've an idea for letting you know if we're in trouble." She pulls out a sheet of parchment, and muttering in elvish, traces her fingers over it, producing a red X. She continues, covering it over with a green circle.

"If you see the first mark, we're in trouble. If that happens, I'll try to send K to lead you to us."

((Prestidigitation to make two marks, if Jan dismisses the second, the first will remain, indicating trouble. If they are gone an hour, the first will fade before the second, and the page will be back to blank.))

Hammerdasher grumbles about the plan but Geffroi places a hand on his arm and calms him when he gives Dagg some direction.

"Dagg, dig up the snow here and push it into a big semi-circle of a wall," Geffroi says, indicating an area near an old dilapidated stone wall that might have been part of a storage hut on the edge of the lake. 

As Dagg digs, his snow wall creates a solid wind block.

"Just hurry," Hammerdasher says. "I don't like the idea of spending the night outside tonight."

Avaria doesn't notice anyone outside at all. Her keen sense of smell only catches the crisp air, their horses, and the pungent aroma of eau de Dagg.

Soren shakes his reins and gets his horse moving to catch up with Marrin and Jan.

Snow crunches under hoof as the trio make their way into the village. Soren doesn't hesitate but makes straight for a tall, three story building a block back from the lakes edge. Icicles hang from the roofs edge above and snow just about obscures the sign hanging out front: The Frozen Stickleback.

"The Stickleback is the only real inn in Peltarch. Anyone who comes through town stops here. If we need to leave in a hurry, we should keep the horses here," Soren suggests. "I can stay with them. I don't know who you're looking for anyway."

Assuming Marrin and Jan enter, the heavy wooden door creaks open with protest, and a gust of icy wind follows you inside, scattering ash from the hearth and drawing a few glares from the room’s sullen occupants. The warmth within is welcome though limited — a low fire smoldering in a stone hearth looks to be burning something akin to peat, its flames more orange ember than blaze, casting flickering shadows that dance across soot-streaked walls.

The tavern smells of old ale, damp wool, and smoke, with a faint undercurrent of fish that no amount of time—or spilled whiskey—has ever quite masked. The floorboards groan underfoot, warped from years of tracked-in slush. A few rickety tables dot the room, their surfaces etched with knife marks and the stains of better nights. Locals hunch over clay mugs, faces half-hidden in hoods and scarves, murmuring in low tones. But all conversation stops when Marrin and Jan enter. Everyone in the room eyes up the newcomers, sparing Jan (and whatever she has done to disguise herself) only a quick glance but some linger on Marrin, eyes narrowing, trying to decide if they recognize her or not.

Behind the bar, a grizzled innkeep polishes a mug with a rag that might be making it dirtier. Shelves of mismatched bottles line the wall, most of them half-empty, and a thick coat of frost webs the corners of the windows, dimming what little light seeps through the snow-caked glass.

The innkeeper nods at Marrin and Jan and waves you over.

"Welcome to the Stickleback," he says. "What can I do for you?"

Jan alters her face to resemble their quarry when Soren mentions not knowing who they're after (as long as they are well away from any potential bystanders), then reverts her face to that of a barmaid she once posed as to get close to a previous bounty, but ages her up a decade or two, making her more world weary and less likely to stick in someone's memory.

Jan sniffs, her nose starting to run a bit as they move into the relative warmth, or at least out of the colder outside air. "Something hot... stew?", she rasps in a voice unlike her own.

"Make it two."

Marrin meets the eyes lingering on her with a hard gaze of her own before turning to the barkeep,

"What's the news in Peltarch?"

The innkeeper looks at the Marrin and Jan and then hollers back through an open doorway.

”Two chowders.” He yells. Then he leans in, inviting you to come closer to the bar. He directs the next thing he says to Marrin “Is it just the two of you? Clearly not or you’d have come through the back from the stables. The Qu’encesta are always welcome, though you don’t usually show up unannounced. That’s going to get people jumping to conclusions.”

Marrin keeps her hard gaze on the innkeeper,

"Let them jump."

She lets that hang before repeating,

"The news."