Ariana - Stepping past Hormwharr, you gently push the door open. Soundlessly it swings inward. You step over the threshold and the wind, which you have been so accustomed to, dies in an instant. With the wind deadened, you can only hear the creak of the pallets beneath sleeping bodies. The smell of fire smoke and sweat mingle in the heavy air, the atmosphere is a little thick for your personal tastes.
Softly stepping about, your elf eyes make out the Common Room's main floor, around which groups of sleeping bodies lay.
(*DC - Passed*) You take silent steps, the straw floor aiding your movement; the room is filled with regular looking denizens of such a hamlet, there is not a suspicious character among them.
A further search quickly reveals empty pallets stacked against the wall. Being thoughtful, you lay down two others for your companions. Taking your bedroll from your backpack you prepare yourself to meditate.
Internal Map Updated.

Trusting the elf's judgement, I follow her example. I try moving quietly in among the sleeping bodies to not wake them up. Unrolling the bedroll I notice the pallet is just a little bit small for my frame (OoC: I can do that right? doesn't seem important enough to need DM intervention), but decide that since I'm too tired to really care, it'll have to do.

Hormwharr - Taking a little longer to step through the Common Room, you reach your travelling companions across the floor. The smoky atmosphere has a soporific effect upon you, and you just about manage to pull out your bedroll before falling asleep.
Within moments the Common Room returns to its murmuring quiet, the night outside shut out by the roundhouse walls.
* * *
Ariana - Your meditation time completed, you rouse from your state to a room still swamped in darkness, but as you become aware of your surroundings you quickly pick out a the sounds of whispering, it seems like a couple are talking across the other side of the Common Room. As you watch, a man to the left pushes back his wool blanket and pulls on some worn leggings which were draped over his other belongings.
You realise this farming community are clearly early risers, and assume that the 4th sun will rise soon.
Hormwharr and Miaghstir are still asleep.
You see another person, a woman close to the entrance, get up and open the wicker and iron door. She rolls up her blanket and collects what meagre possessions she has, leaving via the egress.
Thinking you've not been noticed yet, you look to your right and see a couple staring at Miaghstir. In the half-light you make out a degree of bewilderment upon their faces.
Moments later you swear by the Seven Suns you heard someone say 'Orc' across the room, but as you turn your head all you can see is the familiar sleeping bodies.

I close my eyes and concentrate on listening, trying to determine if the people I overheard are a potential threat

Ariana - Thinking better of getting up, you focus on training your superior elf hearing upon the sound within the room. As you lay there, you hear little at first, but clearly more of the farmers are getting up to work their fields. You're sure none have realised that you're an elf, or in fact concious, so as the muttered conversations rise to a little over a whisper.
(*DC - Passed*) You hear a brief conversation between two people, it is nothing out of the ordinary. Seems like a man is heading out to work and will return to the Common Room for breakfast.
(*DC - Failed*) Someone to the left says something intelligible, but the words were said with a degree of venom.
(*DC - Failed*) You hear the word 'Orc' again but miss the rest of the sentence.
(*DC - Passed*) You hear some women talking about the central fire, and the door opens and closes a few times. As you listen to the crackle of kindling, soon the sent of Hawthorn is around you. Your mouth waters at the idea of freshly baked bread, but the smell suddenly changes to a more displeasing odour. It takes you a little Sand to deduce it, but it the smell is reminiscent of Marram Grass.
A fair amount of Sand must have passed, as your sensitive nostrils now pick up the sent of broth through the foul smoke. You can only really take short breaths.
You hear Hormwharr stir next to you, and not long after Miaghstir audibly Yawns, letting out a grunt.
Hormwharr - As you are roused from the depths of your slumber, the sweetest smells enter your mind, making you think of your home many moons ago. You could swear that you were dreaming it, but as you come awake you see the Common Room central fire and a few women stood and sat around a large cooking pot.
They look at you with a guarded air about them, but they seem to be paying more attention to your companion Miaghstir.
The room itself is now lit with the fire and early light coming in from the open door. Around you the pallets have mostly been stacked, the belongings you saw last night have all gone. The only denizens still asleep are children and a scant few elderly people. Most of this farming community have clearly left to do whatever chores need attending before eating.
The women across the other side of the Marramblock fire are simply dressed with long thick skirts and blouses, most have a blanket wrapped over their shoulders. They seem to be preparing a large pot meal. You see them throwing in to the boiling broth large quantities of rice, the disturbance in the thin soup is throwing up clouds of beef scented steam. You find yourself exceptionally hungry. To your left Ariana is curled up in her blanket, but her breathing is shallow and some beads of sweat are on her brow. You glance to the right and see Miaghstir sit up and give a yawn.
Miaghstir - The first thing you smell is cooking meat, drawn from your shallow sleep by its intoxicating aroma. You sit up and gulp in the smoky air, the burning Marramblock fire is particularly pleasing to you. Hormwharr next to you is still laying down but looks up at you. You look about the room and you see every eye of those awake staring at you. (You observe everything like Hormwharr).

Despite steeling myself against my hunger and the mouth watering smell of cooked meat, I try to put on a calm friendly face, difficult as it is. Not wanting to stir up trouble where I can see none I wait for others to take action or speak before I do.
Looking at the villagers' faces, I try to decide if the villagers are afraid of me or just surprised in seeing a half-orc in their village, but otherwise sit silent, I have learned that in such situations I cannot do much myself to get a warmer welcome, I will have to rely on my companions to introduce us if they see the need to, or address me, before I speak.

Miaghstir - You look at the humans in the Common Room and try to assess their motives, (*DC - Failed*) but you still have no idea if they're going to run away in fear, stand there and do nothing, or attack you.
(Could all adventures please read this letter which has just been delivered)

I wander over to the cooks and engage them in idle chatter, complimenting them on the smell and asking about the ingredients, trying to turn the conversation towards how they get their produce and the rumours of the crops being a bit thin

Ariana - You get up, quickly securing your gear and walk over to the cooks. They eye you carefully, but carry on with their job. You notice a little girl clinging to the skirt of a woman stoking the fire, the smoke and ash have left dark smudges on her hands and face.
To your surprise you're spoken to first, a middle aged woman shredding pak choi looks up from her stone cutting block and addresses you.
"Salam' yung ladeh, nought seen ye liukes of you arn a loung saand. Ayes guessen yar part Quarta' no less, what with dem mens liukes thart; park'n heat liukes thart." She pauses and spikes the pak choi, "Whadda yar warnt miss?"
You great them and compliment them about the smell, asking about the ingredients.
They seem to relax a little at your interest in their cooking. Clearly proud, they spend no time in explaining the process of how they make the beef stock from trading auroch meat, using it as a broth into which they add multiple vegetables and plenty of rice.
At one point during this conversation you hear the little girl say to the woman to which she's clutching onto "Is she an elf?" You take the opportunity to correct her and say, "Half-elf actually". The other women look at each other, but don't say anything directly, quickly carrying on with their recipe.
You ask about the origins of the ingredients after the third or fourth variation of the recipe is in full force. You're told everything is either farmed here or traded for at the market with the Caravans. You get the perfect lead in as one woman concedes that they're not coming so frequently any more.
(*DC - Failed*) How ever much you dress up the issue, as soon as you ask about the thinning crops, they all fall silent and look away from you.

<sincere> "I'd like to help if I can, I don't like the idea of people starving, thats how my father died." </sincere> <joking>"Besides, if you can't harvest crops then the landlord will lose his tax money and probably hire me to come in and rough people up and I hate doing that!" </joking>

I groggily wake up, then overhearing some voices talking about food, and smelling food also my hunger gets the better of me.
I wander over and sit down next to Ariana.
"Smells great, may I have some?"

Ariana - It looks like your attempt to tease information out of this group isn't going well, as you're joke is not well received. The little girl holding onto her mother starts sobbing and crying. It seems like whatever sincerity was meant has been lost into a subject which is a rather sore point.
"Doncha dare bes say'n such tharngs infront my daugha'" The woman exclaims, comforting the girl, leading her away.
The lady who first spoke to you address you again, "You want answers don' go threat'n us like thart, we've seen moar daerth than you'd thionk." She seems incensed. "Thart fat Landlord" she spits, "Ee' won'e even come down har and stop art all, scare'd he tis, sends you he tis, well go do yer job and leav' us be."
Just at that moment, Hormwharr walks up next to you and sits on the bare floor. Unaware of the exchange you've just had he asks, "Smells great, may I have some?"
They all ignore him and carry on with their jobs in silence.
Maighstir - Watching from across the roundhouse you physically cringe, thinking to yourself, "Smooooth". You're rather glad you decided to stay still.

I stand as I say parting words to the cooks
"My apologies, no offence was intended. I have a strange sense of humour that sometimes rubs people the wrong way. I shall leave you to your cooking and trouble you no more"
I head out for a reconnoitre / stroll around the village, making a mental note that we may just be working for the wrong kind of guy if an obviously joking reference to violence is met with such a strong reaction

Ariana - Thinking your words would fall on deaf ears, it seems your apology was accepted as one woman mutters, "Jest'n arn't thar best" she pauses, "Ila al leka' Quarta."
You collect the last of your items, along with Hormwharr who rises from the floor and returns to his bedroll. Maighstir mimics you and packs his gear.
You all leave the Common Room; its tantalising smells behind you now, and step out into the early morning's forth sun light as it peaks over the horizon.
The hamlet is still relatively empty, the buildings around you are streaked with dust and grime, all whipped up by the prevailing wind. You notice the pen which contained locked up farming equipment has been left open, its contents probably taken up the road to the North. Along this byway, as you look past the Market, you see a series of stepped fields in the middle distance. Occasionally you see the glint of iron in the morning's light and shadowy forms moving about. Above them, the jagged peaks of the North rise with a foreboding presence, the fourth sun picking out their frozen tops.
Behind the Market is a stone building, its design is of a quazi-perzurzain nature. At the Southern end, a squat tower rises up from the bracken heath, and out from its high black windows large spindles protrude. It’s strange design is clearly for functionality, these racks are common place in a Tannery. The surface of the building looks to be in ill condition though, the lower Northern end has a large hole in the roof and the windows on the ground floor are boarded. Large quantities of grass and Saltbush have choked up the entrances and Creeping Ivy lashes the Tannery's barn doors together.
To the East is a roundhouse which appears to be better kept that the ones immediately visible, the walls are a little cleaner and are simply adorned with geometric designs. Walking closer you see a plaque on the Western wall, it appears to be made of wood, but it is heavily weathered; taking on the appearance of stone. The carved letters instruct Caravan drivers to park their mules at the stable and report to the town Elder for current taxation rates. The arrow points to around the font of the domicile.
Immediately across the Copper Road East-bound is a large stocky roundhouse with a barred door. The multiple entrances and detritus around the yard suggest some storehouse or silo. The entrances look well secured, but no one appears to be on guard. The final confirmation of its use is the worn stone slab path leading out of the largest egress on the Western side. Under closer inspection the pathway is worn with cart wheel grooves, and snakes its way to the North side of the Market, ending at a set of large doors.
The last visible building is an open Stable facing South. It has a very simple foundry nestled under a thatched awning to the eastern end, but the area is empty and the forge is not lit. Within the open Stables you can see only one mule whose attention seems to be set upon chewing the pen's gate post. You suspect the other animals have been lead out to pasture.
The wander about town proves interesting, and around you the hot wind pulls at your clothes, the incessant rustle of Marram Grass and Saltbush, briar and weed fills your ears. Occasionally you can make out a bird call as the spring morning draws itself out from the night. The sky is a mottled grey but the forth sun's flecks of light produce long shadows and eerie shapes at your feet.
You are all standing outside the Market place again, its door still closed. The swinging sign makes an occasional squeak, its battered surface lacking the garish paint job it once had years ago.
Local Map Completed.

I ask Ariana: "Mind fillin' us in on what ye found out from de cook? If ye got an'thin' that is, I only hearrd 'er reaction at de en'."