Studies are turned into pigsties! The air is filled with oinks and screams! The Bolgers may be on the warpath! Learn more about the latest porknanigans in Songburrow! Neighbours in the fair village of Songburrow have never had such grand gossip-times since, well, last week or so. But then them always were a nosy lot. Anyways, the last year, whisperings of repeated heated exchanges between the inhabitants of Songburrow Hall have spread like wildfire through the local population. The apparent source of the disagreements is a long-running discussion (or, rather, quite a quarrel) about whether the Hall should be developed further, among other things to to house a new study, a proper workbench, a searing hot forge and (not least) a well-stocked pigsty. The discussions do not cover an extension of the mushroom tent anymore, since this actually occurred when most of the Hall inhabitants were busy travelling elsewhere earlier this fall. Debates over the other developments are still brisk, though, and the opposing viewpoints are firmly in either the "this needs to happen" or the "over my dead body" camps. Naturally, the village gossipers gleefully embrace all tales of underhand tactics employed to either furter or stop the developments, including sneak-hiring of workers to carry out the work, stealing of work plans, bribes and blackmail. The arguments apparently peaked this weekend, when one villager swore that he saw a live pig being delivered to Songburrow Hall, with "promises of at least five more to come". Given that no pigsty has been built yet, one can only wonder where the little oinker is housed. News of the Songburrow porkfestation have apparently lead to worries among the farmers in Budgeford. The Budgeford Bolgers have long been steady suppliers of prime pork to Songburrow Hall, "their grand long-standing customers". One particularly peeved pig-farmer said over an ale at the inn that if "incomes drop because those rotters up in Songburrow start breedin' their own food", he'd head over there to release the pigs into the village and make a right mess of things. The local bounders were nearby when the threat was made, but too relaxed after their own ales to take any further action whatsoever.