It was early summer, harvest time, and despite living in a valley shadow that existed in the shadows of two mountain ranges the first harvesting had been a very bountiful one. The people of Schrewsberry had spent the week preparing for this day, the annual harvest festival. Celebrating the first harvest of the summer had been a tradition that no record knew the beginning of off.

Merchants had arrived days early from Trent, many people from other villages and a few town were just getting to town, and an emissary from Deephome had arrived during the night. It was major event in the region, an event that more people enjoyed and participated in that just the citizenry of the town. Tables were being set out on the outskirts of the bazaar for meat, bread, vegetables, desserts, and fruit while wagons and carts were arranged to create rows of merchants for wine, beer, mead, rum, water, whiskey, tea, lemonade, brandy, and fruit juice. A multitude of musicians, troubadours, bards, singers, actors, and performers gathered to plan their acts.

People were filtering in from their farms and mills, mines and herds, and even a few hunters and druids came into town with freshly killed and prepared carcasses of deer, elk, boar, rabbit, and pheasant. Children quickly formed groups and games of knights and maidens followed with the clash of tree limb swords and overly dramatic fake swoons. Priests wondered the crowds shaking hands, offering prayers, and greeting unfamiliar faces. Of which there were very few indeed.

The mayor stood, all three feet, eight inches of him, upon a table of sturdy redwood and raised his hands.

"Good people, friends and family, and visitors to our fair town; it is my duty and privilege to welcome you to the harvest festival. There will be much drinking, singing, dancing, and laughing. And, I'm pleased to announced pusrse of gold coin for the winners of this years contests of archery, horsemanship, knightly combat, pie eating, baking, brewing, and, of course, our annual wrestling championship."

The cacophony of the festival was ear numbing to Yngvar! There was so much going on, so many people! He stood on the steps of his father's inn, which was full to overflowing with merchants and festival attenders, he had to turn away many looking for rooms! The tap room was also full! The brewery had been operating at capacity for several months to be prepared for the festival! He stood on the porch resting, on break from work. He waved at friends as they walked by and admired all of the pretty girls as well, both town girls, and visitors! All wore their best for the festival. Most he'd see later when he finished his shift, they were running almost 24 hours a day during the festival so they had to hire a few extra cooks, waitresses and bouncers to keep trouble at bay.

Counted among those few unfamiliar faces was the clean-shaven face of a monk, new to town.  He had traveled a month from the East to get to this valley.  He had heard about the festival and thought it exactly the sort of place to see life and people and society at its best.  Perhaps to gain a few shards of wisdom and knowledge, maybe even get involved in some grand adventure!

So he sat, his cup by his side, seeking donations, but mostly, watching the crowd.  For that was his way, observe, process, learn.  While not averse to interacting with any who stopped to talk, he does not initiate conversation.  The huge crowd, many tents and booths, glorious smells of food, and cacophony of sound, were, quite frankly unfamiliar to one used to silence and a cloistered life.  In short, intimidating.

Now and again, especially when a child stopped to look, he would perform a feat of strength or dexterity to amuse them.  Otherwise, he sat crosslegged and still.

Benedict worked the crowd with the other priests but unlike many, he was alert for trouble. He drank little wandering through the crowds, meeting and greeting people from all over. He caught the stares of a few pretty girls but kept his mind on business. That would have to wait. He wandered on, talking to people he knew and visitors alike.

Andar makes his way into town carrying the harvested and skinned form of a Wild Boar.  Tucks removed for a necklace makes his way to the fire pits and hands the beast to one of the cooks.  It is all yours harvested this very morning, share it with all. He then makes his way to the leather good shop and makes a purchase of a couple of thigh sheaths for his daggers.  Notices the Archery contest and decides to enter.  He makes his way from stall to stall greeting everyone as a friend and looking at wares from each.

Sam, recently bathed and dressed in newly cleaned and patched clothes, made his way around and helped various local craftsmen set up their merchandise for sale.

He had his eye on the wrestling title this year but he was also highly prized as a work horse during the set up stages of the festival.

He waved to Yngvar and Benedict as he saw them. The huge roll of hides on his left shoulder allowed him a free hand to be neighborly.

"Going to be a big one this year.", He commented offhandedly.

"It sure looks like it! Come on in for a beer when you're done setting up! Only one though, there's wrestling to be done!" he hollers  back. He waves to Benedict and Andar too. He looked at the bottom of the steps and there was an odd man there in robes that was shaved pretty much all over, "Hey there? You need a beer or something?" he asked the stranger.

Spinass wanders around the tables and booths, his dogs beside him om leashes lest they run about causing mischief. He is examining and occasionally tasting the wares. He isn't much for the sporting events but like to people watch.

Uvaic wanders the festival on one of his few days with no work.  He's enjoying the day off but keeps an eye out for who might be willing to pay him to help out tomorrow.

In reply to Brother Timis (msg # 3):

A tall frail human, and man easily of elder age walked up to Timis and stopped. He he peered down at the young monk with a knowing gaze. After several heartbeat the old man smiled broadly and extended a hand to the young man.

"It has been some time since your father left this valley with your grandfather. You have his face, though you have you mother's eyes. I hoped your family would make it back to the valley one day. This is a happy reunion indeed. I am Prophero. I was a traveling companion and friend to your grandfather and godfather to your father."

In reply to Yngvar Yragenre (msg # 7):

A matronly figure approached from the crowd to Yngvar's right. She wore a flour dusted and soup stained apron.

"Was that Andar and Bendict. Oh, and Samuel too. Gather your frineds Yngvar, I have a several crates of meat pies to be taken out to the contests. Tell'em I'll give them two coppers and two pies, but only two pies, for helping. Well, what'er you waiting for, an invitation from the king?"

In reply to Uvaic (msg # 9):

A tall, stately elf wearing a long flowing robe under an elegant doublet stepped from those moving around Uvaic and offered a hand. After a moment the elf's name came to him, Hellyg Brighttwig or something along those lines. He had bought horses last week.

"Hello, Master Uvaic. If you have a spare moment I am assiting with the preparations for the archery contest. I'd be willing to pay you a silver coin for the use of your hands and muscles to place the targets in the field behind the livery."

Yngvar waves to Suma and heads for Andar, Samuel and Benedict, they were near each other in the crowd. "Come on fellas, Suma has a large number of pies to deliver to the festivities! She said the pay is 2 pies, and 2 coppers! You all know her pies are the absolute BEST!"

He began fighting his way through the crowd to her shop to deliver them for her!