A new day dawns after some much needed rest. All of you sleep a bit later than normal due to the extraordinarily late night, and thankfully your sleep is dreamless, considering the visceral quality of the previous day. That is not to say your mornings are uneventful.

At Selissa's Cottage

As the two wood elves are waking up, there comes a impact on Selissa's front door. Not so much a knock as a loud bump, the sound resonates through the entire house. This is followed by a chorus of loud caws. Upon inspection, a flock of crows has roosted outside of her home, and one large one has flown full speed directly into the door, breaking it's own neck. The birds look down, almost accusingly, from the surrounding trees, oddly silent once the door has been opened. The large crow has a slip of parchment tied around it's neck with rough twine. The note reads, in an elegant script, "Congratulations on eliminating such a diabolic threat to the village. Color me impressed. If you are inclined, I would like to parley with those responsible for the summoner's demise. Meet my agent at midnight at the Oaken Larder. Drinks, of course, will be on me. Sincerely, Moira Taggart Bo'Tel." Underneath the writing is a seal, pressed into red wax, as though from a signet ring. It shows a large bird flying over a lake surrounded by trees with an island in the center of the water. Once the note has been read, the flock of crows simultaneously take off in a burst of wings and feathers, turning as one and heading east in a noisy mob.

At Birel's Farm

The warm sun of late morning is a welcome greeting to the new day, but the raucous that comes with it is less appealing. A loud, nasal voice is singing at maximum volume outside, periodically interrupted by a loud, solid THUNK sound. Birel recognizes this voice as belonging to Esquel Brownbottom, the local ouphe peddler and nuisance who often frequents her farm. With a cursory glance out the window or back door, the small figure, maned with an orange beard that extends all the way up to the top of his head, is chopping branchwood from a large pile that has been dragged out of the Hartswood, using Birel's splitting stump and a formidable looking hatchet nearly the size of a maul. Each chop is accompanied by a metallic rattling from the fey's roughspun blue vest, which appears to be covered with assorted cutlery that has been sewn into the cloth. Each spoon, fork, and knife looks like it has been twisted, bent, or broken in some fashion, but polished to a mirror sheen, glinting brightly in the sun. The brown humanoid has a terrible singing voice, and his song makes little sense, but that doesn't stop him from belting it out with all the passion of a skilled and trained bard.

"The slugs go squish, and feed the fish, and the fisherman tugged the line!"
THUNK
"The fish did leap, and jumped the sheep, and the shepherd danced in time!"
THUNK
"But the sheep fell down, knocked over the crown, and Lionel judged it a crime!"
THUNK
"He sentenced the ewe, and the shepherd too, and the headsman sang a rhyme!"
THUNK
"The ax went thunk, we all got drunk, and ate shepherds pie and wine!"
THUNK
"Lionel died, the Daravonts cried, but the people thought it fine!"
THUNK
"OOOOOOOOHHHHHH! The slugs go squish, and feed the fish..."

And he begins his nonsense song anew.