A few hills, snowbanks, and a frozen stream later, and the group arrived at the edge of the village. Plowed land near farmhouses laid buried under a relatively thin blanket of snow, while the one paved road leading into the center of the village remained fairly unobstructed. As they drew nearer to the actual center of town, pavement gave way to a patchwork of brick roads, weaving between neat rows of shops and homes. The buildings were varied in height, anywhere from one to four or so stories, but mostly skinny and steep-roofed.

It was kind of how one would imagine such a place, really. The smell of fireplaces and baking bread, warm lights in the windows, ice-crusted store signage swinging in the breeze... "Quaint" was a word that would be getting a lot of use, really. The only break in the peace came from a noisy pub and inn on the corner of the block. It seemed... oddly crowded in there, to be located in such a small town. But, even that little blot of obnoxiousness had certain charm to it, with a raunchy barroom piano banging out some irreverent old tune under the sound of clinking plates and glasses, and chattering people.

Locations of interest in the immediate area (besides the hotel) seemed mostly closed. It was getting a little late in the day, probably nearing sunset, but... talk about retiring early. Small town and all. The little castle up on the ridge had its gate standing open, at least, but that was still a decent walk away, and uphill through the snow, too. Still, it was an option for exploration.

And the group would be eye-shot of the local saloon in perhaps the least opportune moment.

"I thought I told you to stay out!"

The voice boomed right before a one-eyed rabbit was tossed staggering out onto the street corner. He did a little spin and almost fell on his face. Somehow, he had enough of his hand-eye coordination to catch himself. An open bottle of rum in one hand, he tilted his head back and started to down whatever was left in it.

Unlucky for them however, he spotted them. He stopped threw the bottle off to the side where it shattered on the sidewalk.

He staggered toward them and stopped in front of Sir Corin, who no doubt lead the charge. He started to point, and open his mouth as if to say something to him.

Then he stopped, looking past him. His little band of outsiders starting to render more clearly now.

"Hey," he started to say, "You guys ain't from around here, are you?"

He patted Corin on the shoulder as he brushed past.

"These lands be closed to outsiders..." He said before glancing back at Corin, "How the hell did you get outsiders in here, Lancelot?"

Ivan gave the griffin a blank stare for a good couple of seconds. But then broke the silence with some hearty laughter.

"Paahahahahaaa! Out of a cannon!" He reiterated with some level of disbelief, gesturing with an open palm in the air as he spoke, "Ain't that the way to travel these days. Hahah. You people must'a really wanted to get here."

He reached into his coat, and pulled out another bottle of rum. He bit the cork, his eyes clenching shut as he tore it out of the bottle's opening and then spit it off to the side. He didn't look like he was suffering at all from the cold weather. Maybe that big red coat was nice and warm... Or more likely, the booze was keeping him warm.

"That castle? That be Castle Fremont. Looks opened, so why not let ourselves in, eh? As fer the reason for the lockdown... I wager it might have'ta do with the fact that people, and some...museum pieces been goin' missin' lately."

"Bastards tried to lock me up fer it... The injustice. Gotta'nuff mouths to feed as it is."