While they wait, Avaria decides to get a fire going.  Hard enough to hold back - but even worse when frozen.  She looks to the friends that remain here once she's got a blaze going, "So, once we find this Hargrave, what next?"

Ethel crouches near the fire, rubbing her hands together as the blaze begins to catch and the first fingers of warmth start pushing back against the cold.  Her eyes glow briefly gold in the firelight, thoughtful, tired.  At Avaria’s question, she doesn’t answer right away.  Instead, she watches the flames curl and snap for a moment longer, as if trying to divine something in the dance of smoke and cinder.  Then she leans back slowly on her heels and exhales through her nose.

“Once we find Hargrave…” she echoes, but not like she’s really answering.  More like she’s tasting the idea aloud.  Then, finally, her eyes lift and meet Avaria’s.

“We follow the thread.”

She shifts her weight, brushing ash from her skirt.  “Hargrave the Younger is just one piece.  Professor Owens is the one I want to lay eyes on.  The one who stirred this whole pot.  Him, his obsession with that ancient nonsense, and his quiet dealings with murderers and thieves.”  Her gaze flicks to Hammerdasher, who’s busy pretending not to listen. “He’s got questions to answer.  Real ones.  About the prophecy, the key, and why so many people are suddenly conspiring over a desert country that crumbled a thousand years ago.”

Ethel's expression darkens a little, her voice low and sure.  “And if the thief who took Hammerdasher's heirloom is close, all the better.  We find them too.  One way or another, someone in this town knows something.  And when we find the thread, Avaria... we pull.”

She leans in slightly, her voice dropping as if afraid the snow itself might overhear.  “I don’t know exactly what happens next.  Could be we find answers. Could be we find more blood, instead.  But we didn’t come all this way to turn back now.”

Then, as if to ease the weight of her own words, she nods at the fire and adds with a dry half-smile, “For now, we try to keep warm and wait.  Let Jan and Marrin do what they do best.”

IN THE SNOW FORT:

Hammerdasher eventually settles down by Ethel and Avaria after hearing but pretending to not hear and then giving up and listening to Ethel intently.

"You just get me into bloody Korda Glintstone's cell and I'll get everything out of her that she's been hiding. Wherever she hid our treasure, that's where that djed will be. Though I feel like I would have heard stories if it was a key to some secret underground catacomb." Hammerdasher says. He pauses for a second, thinking, before adding "If we got this far before the Hargroves, we can get to the prison before them too."

IN THE STICKLEBACK:

The innkeeper looks at Marrin and her hard countenance.

"Suit yourself," the innkeeper says. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

A teen comes through the door the innkeeper had hollered through before with two steaming clay bowls. He puts them down on the counter and turns and leaves. As he passes by the innkeeper, you can tell that this must be the innkeeper's son, given how similar they look.

"And what news do you want?" the innkeeper asks. "It's cold and everything is frozen and we've a damn long winter ahead of us."

Avaria listens to her friend with a sort of quiet intensity, never daring to interrupt the woman she has come to revere.  She casts a glance over at Dagg, trying to convince herself that he isn't going to bring them more trouble... at least for now.  When Hammerdasher drops the pretense, she can't help but smile.  She has found a real fondness for the dwarf.

She kicks another log on the fire, making it her duty to keep them all from freezing to death.  She stares into the flames and nods, "We are not turning back.  And yes... there will be blood."

"Any strangers come through? A party of mercenaries in black with and older man a woman?"

Marrin's eyes are drawn to the chowder and it's beckoning warmth.

IN THE STICKLEBACK:

The innkeeper looks at Marrin for a long moment, frowns and shakes his head.

"Why on Toril would a party of mercenaries be in Peltarch?" the innkeeper asks. "And at the start of winter at that?"

He looks more closely at Jan and Marrin.

"Are you two alright? Did you lose your horses? Get knocked in the head?"

IN THE SNOW FORT:

Dagg starts getting fidgety and stomps his feet a little, causing small tremors in the ground.

"Dagg think Dagg go find food. Bring back feast," Dagg says to everyone. "Come Wolfie. Dagg and Wolfie hunt for dinner."

Dagg with the dire wolf at his heels starts heading towards town.

Avaria scrambles to her feet and rushes over to Dagg when she sees which way the hill giant is heading.  "Dagg!  You can't head towards the town, please, it will only bring trouble to us and your friend."  she gestures to Ethel, hoping that will get through to him.

"If you must go find food, head that way and see what you can find."  She points in the opposite direction, hoping the giant isn't going to bring them more trouble.

Marrin snorts in subdued amusement at the innkeeper's works.

She finishes her thought on the mercenaries and pirates,

"Why indeed. If they come here, you are not to aid them and be wary."

Scooping up her bowl she answers the man's questions,

"Our horses are fine. We are fine. Just bringing a warning."

She then finds an empty table she and starts eating, hoping Jan follows.

"Smells good. How much?" Jan asks the innkeeper.

IN THE STICKLEBACK

The innkeeper lets Jan know it’s two silver per bowl. Then he goes off bellowing for his son. “Where have you gone off to? Get out here and clean.”

Glances are cast Jan and Marrin’s way but no one approaches them.

Eventually the innkeeper goes off in search of his son.

OUTSIDE IN THE FREEZING COLD:

Avaria catches up to Dagg who nods as if he understands. The giant heads away from the village but not before sniffing the air a few times. He shrugs and goes off into the dark. 

“How long are we going sit our arses out here in the cold while those three prance about town?” Hammerdasher says, to no one in particular.

Ava breathes a sigh of relief then heads back to the camp.  "Try sticking your arse in the fire, that should help." she grins at him.

At the table, in a hushed voice,

"Thoughts?"

She'll then dig in before it cools, enjoying the relative heat of the space.

Jan leaves four silver on the counter. 

((She'd like to weigh his words when he expressed disbelief that anyone else would want to come to the town this time of year. Insight: 19))

She'll also send K to invisibly nose about town.

OUTSIDE IN THE FREEZING COLD:

Hammerdasher turns and moves his backside closer to the peat fire.

"If I get much closer, lass, you'll start getting the idea of what cooked dwarf smells like," Hammerdasher says.

Ula laughs and nods. "Can't be much worse than how most of us smell already. Hopefully they have baths in town."

IN THE STICKLEBACK:

Jan can't determine much about anyone wanting to come to Peltarch this time of year, but the innkeeper did seem genuinely surprised at the idea a troop of mercenaries would show up here and even more so at this time of year.

K flits about outside. Soren shivers in the cold, but he seems to be holding something warm in his hands to try and keep the horses warm.

From up above, K sees a fenced in yard behind the inn and what might be a stable. No one is out and about until the back door to the inn opens. Warm light from the kitchen illuminates the innkeeper who shouts out into the night for his son.

To the south of town, K can make out a slight glow from a fire. Otherwise, all they see is a number of small homes, some buildings by the water that could be boathouses, a few frozen piers and smoke from a number of chimneys.

((Marrin is just waiting for Jan's input, and happy to eat until she gets it. Maybe stay at the inn all winter.))

Jan mutters to Marrin. "Didn't get the sense he was lying about not seeing a group of mercenaries... and K isn't picking up anything in a fly by that would suggest they're here... Thinking either they bypassed Peltarch, or we managed to beat them here cutting through the wood. I can send them back down the road on the way here... see if they can spot our friends? If we're planning on staying here, I can keep this face, but assuming you're wanting to resume your own once you officially return to town?"

Between bites Marrin quietly responds,

"We could only be so lucky to have beat them here. If your powder pixie is up for the cold, it would be good to see they are close on the road."

She'll roughly run her lower knuckles across her jawline,

"This face got more of a reaction than I was expecting. I will probably use another when I come back. When I am done here I suppose we should get the rest of them."

Once she is done eating she will rise and just walk out without acknowledging the innkeeper or anyone other Jan. Once out she will move to find Soren.

Assuming Jan agrees, the pair slip out of the inn, several of the patrons watching Marrin carefully as she goes. There's still no sign of the innkeeper back from looking for his son.

Outside, the cold bites hard after the limited warmth of the inn.

"Have a nice time did you?" Soren asks, his teeth chattering. "Was about to come in and see what went wrong."

Soren quickly mounts his horse and leads the way back to the makeshift snow fort and the very limited warmth of the peat fire.

There's no sign of Dagg anywhere, but Avaria and Ethel did hear a loud whoop from near the lake to the west and a direwolf growling a few moments earlier but then quiet since.

Ethel stands stiffly, looking up at Marrin, Jan and Soren in their saddles, her arms folded tightly across her chest against the bite of the cold.  Her breath steams in the air as she watches the others preparing to move, trying to catch the last warmth of the peat fire.

She hesitates just a beat longer than the rest, her gaze drawn west toward the lake where the whoop and the growl had echoed earlier.  The cold gnaws at her bones, and the thought of a warm fire and solid walls in Peltarch is almost painful in how much she craves it.

Still, she lingers, frowning.

“…We should be moving,” she says finally, her voice low and rough from the cold, “but…”

Her eyes narrow, the practical side of her warring with something softer she doesn’t like to name.  She shifts her weight, boots crunching in the hard-packed snow, pacing in a way but not actually moving anywhere.

“That big oaf could get himself—or us—into real trouble.”  A grimace crosses her face, and she rubs at the scarred side of her jaw, thinking.  “He’s like a dog off his leash.  No ill-intent, but no sense about him, either.”

She huffs sharply, a sound half irritation, half worry.

“If he scares some townsfolk or worse, tells anyone about us, we could fast become pariahs in Peltarch before we can accomplish what we came here for.”

Ethel looks at Soren, then Avaria, then back toward the lake again.

“We leave him, we risk it.  We go after him, we freeze our arses off—and risk losing advantage we gained by coming here cross-country in the first place.”

Another pause.  Then she sighs heavily, already knowing her own mind even if she doesn't want to admit it.

“…Damn it.  He’s our responsibility now.  Someone needs to at least find his sorry hide and point him back into the wilds before he ends up lynched.”  Her mouth tightens into a grim line.  “I’ll go.  You lot get to town, get a room, get set up.  I’ll catch up with Dagg and convince him his 'debt' to us is paid and send him on his way.  Or at least make sure he’s not causing a massacre.”

She starts gathering up her things with brisk, angry movements, muttering under her breath, “Damn fool woman.”

Marrin regains her face by the time she reaches Soren (if he was a bit outside of town, otherwise she will wait until the way back) and passes 2 silver to Jan for the soup.

She won't reply to the half-elf with a shrug,

"If we are calling anywhere warmish nice, then yes. It was nice."

Back at camp she moves straight to the limited heat provided by the burning peat.

"Not much to report from town, or atleast the inn. We either beat the Hargroves or they bypassed Peltarch. I doubt they skipped Peltarch though, it is just too cold."

Shivering next to the fire she rolls her eyes at Ethel being the martyr.

"I will help you convince him. Maybe even give a solid suggestion he start heading off, if you'd like."