Weather: Cold, but not overly so for the incoming season. Winds gusted into any unsecured clothing, reminding people of the inevitable seasonal change. There was but a hint of possible precipitation upon the horizon from the north, far away enough to not warrant immediate concern.

Time: Early morning. Maybe an hour and a half had passed since the first of the group rose from their slumber.

Ambience: Clear skies and just a hint of low-laying fog remain. The fullness of the morning is upon the Rose River Vineyard, illuminated by an almost cheery looking, radiant sun. It was even uplifting, if one were a morning person.

The fireplace of the Taproom keeps to its low flame, now partly obscured by the accoutrements of toast and tea preparation. It was, admittedly, a little dim within the room, but smaller table lamps help with this somewhat.



It was awful; simply awful what Victoria was proposing. Killing one of the people in the Coach House just to drag them back to the living world seemed unnecessary. Heartless, even. But some not-very-deep part of Lizbeth's psyche was intensely curious. The concern vocalized by Baronfjord was reflected in her own thoughts, but she didn't speak them, herself. The nod she gave for Victoria to press onward with her display of death magic was backed with equal amounts of caution and exhilaration. Both of these feelings she kept to herself.

Lizbeth maintained a mostly quiet sort of caution. Victoria's words seemed to help a little, probably because she did not address the issue on her mind. There wasn't much of a reaction to the others, either. Kosara's apology was taken silently, and responded to with nonverbal cues of acceptance. Even Kosara's request for tea kept Lizbeth at arm's length, though she did set a cup from the Coach House's inventory down on the table near her, for when the water came up to temperature for steeping.

The apology did seem to act as a catalyst for her to open up a little bit more to everyone else, however. To begin, she crossed the room to address the couple who were present to tidy up the rooms. "Please start with the bedrooms first. The servants' quarters weren't used last night. Thank you." This was effective enough to get the two of them moving toward the door, and out of the group's hair for the meantime. Though the woman did give a lingering look over toward the very still (yet upright standing) pig near the wall as she went along.

She then addressed Baronfjord as if he had just spoken instead of the awkward pause which had just passed, "And you shan't hear a word otherwise, Monsieur Blackberry. This is your home for the winter, anyway." Her tone was flatter than normal, especially as compared to the previous evening's bubbly optimism. The morning had been uncomfortable for little Lizbeth, with the accident in the kitchen and the other event.

Something closer to a smile came about when she heard Kathryn agree to participate in Victoria's magical experiment. Not so much of a look of personal delight as it was intense, visible curiosity burning behind her eyes. "Oh thank you, Lady Kathryn! It's a very brave thing to help show me something like this. Please, use this table over here," she offered, motioning to the one nearest the bar but also within ample light of the hearth. She then looked expectantly to Victoria, inquiring, "This really isn't going to hurt her, right?"

The cleaners, morbidly interested in whatever was about to happen, stuck next to the door. The man had his hand on the doorhandle as if to leave in short order, but remained transfixed, rooted to the spot next to the exit.

BlackBerry blinked several times at Lady Kathryn so that to anyone elese it would look as if he was trying to send a message in blinks. In actuality he was trying to figure out if he had slipped down the stairs and knocked himself out, and everything happening now was just a dream. He decided it probably wasn’t.

He was relieved though to see Kosara arrive fully clothed though still slightly damp from her bath earlier and give Lizbeth an apology. While Lizbeth obviously seemed a bitthrown off from the whole ordeal she seemed quite happy to set about ordering the Cleaners onto their task, adding onto Lady Kathryns own words from earlier for the Cleaners to start their work upstairs.

BlackBerry couldn’t say he was entirely surprised by Lady Kathryns response, the woman seemed to be happy to offer her services and evidently her very being to anyone who needed even the slightest bit of help. On its own the trait was exemplary but in the face of being temporarily killed just to show off a neat trick it left something to be desired.

But then again BlackBerry was also admittedly a little bit curious as to what this trick of Victorias could be. Playing with his scarf with a churning sense of excitable dread in his stomach, he crept forward a few steps after Lizbeth towards the table that was offered to Victoria. He still, overall ,wasn’t too happy about the whole ordeal.

He rolled his eyes with a sigh. “Very well, but only if you are certain Lady Kathryn. So, Victoria. You have your audience,” He gestured then to the Cleaners, and then to Lady Kathryn herself “And willing assistant. Do you need anything more? No Ritual Daggers or Bones of The Damned? This had better not be at all…graphic.”

As an after thought, he then commented more towards Lizbeth than anyone else. “I shan’t dare to wonder what your Aunt would say about all this.”

“Thank you!” Kosara replied gratefully, after being in fact given some tea. She decided to think of it as an acceptance to the apology in the grand scheme of things. Her still very damp and even wet hair, keeping her cool as she took the drink and tried it.” Ohh this is marvelous.” She quipped happily and went to sit on the floor in front of the fireplace. She drank a few more mouthfuls of the quite tasty tea before finally placing it down to the side of her, as she tasted her hair to the touch a few times to check if it was a bit dried at least, pulling a very simple comb from her luggage, she began combing through her still moist hair to straighten it for easy braiding.

It was then that she paid attention to the happenings on the magical occasions in room. Or to be more precise the fact that apparently Kathryn had agreed to let V use magic on her. Well… considering everything, it was unlikely to be too bad. V was a bard and not a bad one. That and as far as Kosara was concerned, V was a pretty decent person so she shouldn’t cripple, maim or kill their big (apparently) giant warrior woman.” I can heal her injuries if she gets hurt, can also remove other afflictions like poisons and diseases within reasonable limits.” Kosara quipped from her spot to reassure that if nothing else the party did in fact at least have somebody capable of healing if things went wrong. That said… Kosara was VERY interested in what they were planning here. Necromancy was curious thing to her nowdays since meeting V.

Kosara then looked at Berry with curious expression when he went on a tangent about ritual daggers and damned bones. Now that had her curious even more since that sounded quite grim, but quite necromantic, her eyes trailed over to V and Kathryn with a similar morbid curiosity that might have been keeping the workers around to watch. She drank the rest of her tea before continuing with her combing for a little bit more and then put the comb back into the backpack before she turned her focus to herself when she began to braid her long hair with trained ease, running things she had yet to do today. Now that she finished the tea, once she braided her hair, she would have to do the bucket duty for their crafts, then bring out the barrel bath in this case meaning she’d have to use another bucket to throw the water outside before she could roll it out of the kitchen. All in all? Kosara had the next little while quite full of things to do so she focused on the task at hand, keeping and occasional ear and eye out on the bardic schenanigans.

"No, Master Baronfjord," Victoria said in a voice like frozen honey - cold, sweet, and perhaps a bit distant - in the manner of a woman of exceptional charisma and a detached, morally grey nature; which was exactly the Bard's description once the smiles and customs of polite social upbringing were stripped away. "Neither a rabbit nor a duck shall be sufficient. I require something willing. I require something sapient. If the Lady wishes to volunteer, then it would be positively rude of me to withdraw the ritual."

Victoria spared a glance in the direction of her raven, which immediately snapped for the piece of bread in the Dragonborn's hand. A tiny smile graced her lips now as she turned her gaze back to him. The bird's sudden caw after chopping back the fragment of bread was giving curt translation by its mistress, stating flatly, almost at a whisper, "Thank you."

She turned her attention to her books. They were still sitting on the table, next to her swordbelt and violin, safe within the finely crafted knapsack which used to belong to Constable Cavendish. There was more within that book than Victoria could fully grasp - yet - but that which she needed for today was fully within her arcane capabilities. "Funny that you would mention 'Bones of the Damned'. There are few things that I prefer for the ritual." She produced two items from her belongings for the occasion; a scrimshawed bone flute from within a long, black bag which appeared to be carved from a femur, and a dark cloth wrapped around a series of small bones and teeth. Among the many, one of them was a shard taken from Cavendish's desiccated corpse, another a tooth from her previous Morty, yet another appearing to be a finger bone which was burnt black on one side, liberated from remains for which she later oversaw their interment. Naturally, she said absolutely nothing about the origins of the more notable pieces of the set, even if she did give over a quiet smile and distant look. "No blood needed for this piece of Necromancy. So no, good sir; no ritual dagger this time."

In a dramatic switch of mood, Victoria's face began to beam with expectant warmth. She looked to Kathryn with this expression as the very beginnings of darkness began to manifest around her eyes, like a thin line of smoky cosmetics being applied by the minuscule brushtip of barely building magic. It seemed to brighten her already luminous, crystal blue eyes by contrast. With a voice as comforting and sweet as could be managed while channeling necrotic energies, Victoria looked to her towering adventuring associate and patted the table in front of her. "Please, Kathryn? Lay down here." She bundled up her cloak and lay it at one side of the table in question, silently bidding that Kathryn rest her head upon it. "Get comfortable. I know this spell as a ritual. It will take a few minutes to build up the necessary power to manifest."

The rather offputting covered book which was previously wrapped in oilcloth sprung open, flipping through page after page until it settled upon the correct one for the task at hand. Victoria cast her bones upon the black cloth, noting which ones settled where, inside or outside of the white, quartered circle thereupon. She set her bone flute next to it, keeping physical contact with it as necessary. Her eyes continued to darken in the manner that one might have witnessed when she was in the midst of spellcasting in battle. The color of necromancy spilled down her cheeks in its traditional manner, for her, appearing as a liquid expression of sorrow, staining rivulets of black. "You asked me a question, Baronfjord. I forget the exact wording, but it was something to the effect of wondering why a nice girl like me is involved with Necromancy."

Victoria continued building up the ritual before her, putting her mind into the desired outcome and performing the mental feats necessary to channel the powers she summoned at a trickle. She was casting this spell more like a Wizard than a Bard, though the undeniable details of showmanship were apparent. This hybrid magic was a point of interest to the lady casting the spell, even if the subtleties might have been lost on those without formal arcane training. But even as her mind plucked the strings of the Weave and her calculations refined the notes which cascaded with magical energy, Victoria continued to speak. "I wasn't always a Necromancer. I am a True Bard, raised in a wealthy household and given the best education that a trade city had to offer. I played in taverns, inns, and the like, as all musicians do when trying to establish a reputation. As my family has money, the doors to more upscale places were opened to me. I put on performances for the people of Ashhaven, Khimn, and places of the region in covered halls and open-air venues. The fact that I am beautiful and well-spoken helped immensely." The last part was said in a matter-of-factly tone instead of a boast, as if this was an objective fact. In truth, it actually was, even if some amount of vanity flawed the woman's character. "The real acclaim came from my work as a funerary violinist. I blended motes of magic with clean, pure music, reflecting the emotions of grief and loss and giving them collective meaning. I would use this to weave together a noteworthy song for those who have passed, that their crossing be eased for themselves and their bereaved. In the end, ignore ethic. Demonstrate no judgement to the god a person prays to in the execution of their interment, save to let their beliefs dictate how they are laid to mortal rest."

A feeling of pressure came over the immediate area, like one moving from a place of high elevation to a valley too quickly. Lights dimmed, and the magic summoned began to take on a more palpable atmosphere. "After a long while of playing music like this, I began to concentrate on it. It was profitable. It served a purpose. And I learned things. In Death, we all stand as equals. Regardless of how exquisite your interment, regardless of how lavish your mausoleum, Death levels the field, from pauper to prince. There is also power to be found there. Unilateral power of the forces of life and entropy, the secrets of which may be found in the dedications to the dead, in the religious rituals of those doing the interring, even carved among the stones which build their crypts. The songs for the dead and dying hold power. All of these things, if you know where and how to look. One day, everything just started to make sense. This understanding led me to a truth. Be it a large Truth, or simply my truth, it is as thus:"

"Music and magic flow through everything that is, and death is the final, universal arbiter. I seek to better understand all three, as they are all connected by the same strings. Bardic Necromancy is a tool that binds it all together."

Victoria blinked slowly and let the last of the accumulating magics settle in. The last thing that Kathryn heard was the simple, dulcet whisper of, "Fall into Oblivion." A state as cold and solid as death settled over the tall woman as her breathing ceased, her body cooled, and blood stilled. For all onlookers, Kathryn was dead.

Kathryn smiled a warm smile. One far warmer than most people would expect of someone clad as a warrior, and of her size. Lizbeth seemed to excited to see such tricks in action! Kathryn couldn't perform them herself, but the small bean seemed so excited to see what Victoria could do! And if Kathryn could help with that? Perfect! Seeing her smile warmed apart of Kathryn's heart that craved for those around her to be pleased with her. But also to bring joy to someone who has gone through so much in the last week, how could Kathryn say no to her? That little horn that went off in her head when something wasn't right began to go again. Fueled by the small one's question of if things would hurt. Or V's comments leading up to her and Lizbeth guiding Kathryn towards the table. The wine was helping to smother that warning enough for Kathryn to suppress her own fears. She wished it was something more though. Bourbon. Whiskey. Maybe a tea flavored bourbon? Or a maple flavored whiskey? That would help her relax for sure. The wine was growing on her though.

Grabbing the bottle she just opened, she took another swig. She wasn't drinking like she was last night, but she needed just enough of a buzz to keep drowning out her own fears and worries. But she refused to let it show on her face. Smiling she sat on the table, and turned to rest her back on it. Her height proving a disadvantage again as her legs hung off far enough that they were able to point towards the floor, and her head barely stayed on. Sometimes, she wished she was shorter. Maybe not Victoria level's of short, but smaller and cuter that she was would definitely be convenient. The ability to win people over with girlish charm? Or the ability to casually flirt with people? To wrap people around her fingers using her charm and looks? Would be easier in a lot of ways. But her size and strength also gave her an additional edge in her fighting skill. In terms of raw might she was a weight class all of her own when facing off against most foes. Same with her strength! Her skills seemed to really lean into this style of fighting too. It also made it harder for people to shove her around in return. "It's going to be fine Lizbeth. I doubt it'll hurt, and if there is a pinch or two, I have a pretty solid pain threshold." Kathryn said confidently

She turned to Blackberry continuing her warm smile and enthusiastic gaze. "Don't worry so much Blackberry, you were in more danger pouring my ale last night than I will be now." She said ignorantly not fully knowing what she was going to experience. But she had an idea. Death. She was going to die, ever so briefly. She actually had a pretty severe fear of dying. Apart of why she almost always wore the armor she had. Even when she hated her armor. That same fear fed into her anxiety and kept telling her that this was a bad idea. That same fear told her to stop this. That same fear told her that if she had too she needed to get as far away as possible. No matter who she had to shove, kick, or fight to stop this from happening. That horn kept going off telling her that this was a bad idea. That horn slowly getting louder and louder. "This Was Wrong" it kept trying to warn her. "Stop this madness" it seemed to plead. Kathryn took another sip of the bottle of wine. Thankfully not nearly as much as the last night, but enough that she was drowning out her fears.

"Thank you Kosara, I doubt it'll be necessary, but I appreciate you on standby to back me up!" Kathryn said enthusiastically. She was reassured just a bit more that things would be okay. But she wasn't so sure still. If things went wrong, she would be powerless to do anything about it. Surely V would fix it if something did go wrong? Or maybe Kosara could muster up something. And, she supposed if things got really, REALLY bad. They could always run back to town to get Marita. She was a cleric, her magic healed all sorts of problems. Right? But maybe V's magic was more potent... Kathryn had no way of knowing really. Her understanding of magic was limited to say the least. Even the old magic she used now, wasn't even in the same class as the magic everyone around her used from a day to day basis.

The flute made of bone is what about did it for Kathryn. Watching it come out, watching it play. She couldn't hear the words V was saying, as all of her attention stayed focused on the flute. Had she seen it before? Maybe it was cursed? Kathryn tried to catch glimpses of what V was saying. It seemed to be an explanation on how and why she got into necromancy. And Kathryn realized in her attempts to listen, she was beginning to break out in a cold sweat. She found herself struggling with heat flashes, and soon her smiling demeanor began to break. She didn't look worried yet, but that enthusiastic smile had begun to fade. That horn of warning returned. It didn't sound like a war horn, like those used by castle guards to alert of attackers, but it sounded like her uncles old war horn. The trophy he took from his last campaign. A horn made of bone from some large beast. Said to be the mount of some great leader hundreds of years ago. A horn that created a noise so haunting to alert all those who heard it, that death had come for them all. Kathryn was scared, and despite another rather hefty sip of wine, she couldn't drown out the worried sounds inside her head telling her this was a bad idea. She was going to die.

Oh shit she was going to die, she was going to die and there was nothing she could do about it. She was going to die and she may never wake up again. Would she even be her when she awoke?! Or some undead ghoul like Morty. No, no she couldn't let this happen. She was too scared of death to face what came next. "Wai-" She didn't even finish the word before V finished her command and her words were cut off with a gasp. Kathryn went up briefly by a few inches, and fell back down, air slowly draining from her lungs as she let go of the bottle of wine, and it rolled to the floor leaving behind a trail of a rather sweet white wine. The expression on her face, was one of peace. She seemed more relaxed than she had since arriving in Avonshire. And seemed finally, at peace. Even a faint smile crossed her face, as if in the last moment before she went down, the acknowledgment of finally being able to rest without fear settling in comforting the woman.

Weather: Cold and mostly clear, except for a glint of possible weather on the horizon. Wind does as it does, occasionally making its presence known in controlled gusts which serve to remind all that winter was on the threshold of the moors.

Time: Morning, still. Barely a quarter hour to twenty minutes has passed since the last update.

Ambience: If a word can be used to describe the day thusfar, crisp would be a qualifying one. Hints of fog remain in the hollows as the sun spreads gently along the higher places of the great, standing waves of green hills. It's a lovely morning. A smaller staff of workers begin to stir around the Vineyard, noted by occasional movement and the odd line of smoke. Were one to look toward the Estate House, one might witness curtains opening and life beginning to buzz thereabouts, as a.m. chores commence.

The dim lighting within the Taproom crackles every so often, giving percussive sounds to the low murmur of simmering water. These two sounds blended into a very domestic sort of song, whispering of quiet creature comforts. It also looks to be the only sound in the room as everything has fallen deathly quiet following the last-moment exclamation of Kathryn before magic appeared to claim her life. Looking at the faces of the locals, that quiet might be extraordinarily short lived.



Lizbeth looked shocked. Elements of fear crossed over her countenance and her mouth stood agape, as her mind struggled to process the thing that she saw that simply should not be. Yet there it was, despite the choked-off word of regret from Kathryn, Victoria whispered ...whatever she whispered... and the powerful warrior fell as quiet and unresponsive as death. There was a small part of the young woman's mind that thought this was a trick, like stories she had heard of Bards and their ability to impress and entertain with magic, beguile others with their words and put on impressive but illusory performances, and the like. But the color upon Victoria's face, conviction with which she spoke of her history with magic, and the sudden jolt that brought Kathryn to a nonliving state smashed those expectations. This wasn't a pantomime for the purposes of entertaining. Lizbeth needed a moment.

Curiously, after she took that moment, the shocked look altered. Still surprised, still hovering on the edge of disbelief, but not shocked. An impressed smile formed on her face as she dared to step a little closer. Almost grinning now, out of nervousness as much as wonder, Lizbeth stumbled out queries. "Oh, she's not... Is she? Yes, you said you were going to make someone die, but, you can bring her back whenever you want? She's not DEAD dead, right?" Then, after her wide eyes regarded the lack of movement from the chestpiece of Kathryn's armor, the girl asked with sudden and unexpected eagerness, "May I check?" Her eyes became bright and inquisitive, her face a beacon of excitement.

After receiving a small steel mirror, Lizbeth placed it beneath Kathryn's nose to check for breath. Seeing nothing condense upon its reflective surface, she raised a grapeseed oil lamp near to the downed Knight's face and, with her free hand, gingerly opened one of her eyes. There wasn't the slightest response to the light in the way of motion, nor involuntary pupil contraction. Then the heart - an ear laid upon her chest told nothing, even if it would have been a little more difficult to tell with a layer of mail. Smiling with a glint toward the macabre, Lizbeth raised one of Kathryn's arms and let it drop back to the table with a boneless thwap. "By the Light," mused the girl, "She's dead."

A scream broke out from near the doorway as the matronly cleaner held a hand to her face in horror. While her husband still had his hand on the door handle, she wasted no time in grabbing around it anyway and flinging herself outside. Sounds of her alarm could still be heard, retreating alongside heavy footsteps. The man, looking more than a bit shocked, himself, stood rooted to his spot, asking in a hoarse voice, "This is a trick, yes? This is a trick and she's not really dead, and this is a trick. Yes?" The door was still held open, as he had not decided yet whether he was going to run and wanted to keep his options, and escape route, open.

Out among the rolling, vine-covered hills of the Rose River Vineyard, a bald, tattooed Dwarf sat at a simple wooden table within his living quarters above a reasonably equipped smithy. A bowl of uninteresting, grain-based mash lightly steamed before him and a wooden spoon containing a small amount of this neutrally colored (but probably quite nourishing) foodstuff hovered near to his face. He had the occasion to poke his head out of a window, vexed by the sound of someone apparently screaming and running for their life, to be met by the sight of the cleaning lady hauling herself mightily away from the Coach House. With a grunt and a sigh, the Dwarf closed the shutters and shook his head to assert his personal philosophy of Nope. Urmdrus returned to his bowl. This fell neatly into the realm of "not my business", and he was sticking to it.

Who wasn't scared to die? The answer was a lot of people were scared of death, but some had lived their lives to their fullest, or knew that their death was for something greater, and could accept it. Kathryn, who had brushed close to death a few too many times though, was not one of those people. Death scared Kathryn to a degree that could not be stated into words. Every now and again she would get a burst of confidence that would let her overcome her fears, or she would put herself into situations she could face off against death and come out on top. But that fear lingered. She was terrified of leaving her mortal life behind, and moving onto another plain of existence. That fear of the unknown was one that drove her to do well with a blade, and drove her to flick a switch, and go full blood lust when she fought compared to her usual passive friendly personality. If she died would it be a whole new life? Would it make her own existing life a waste for not living it to the fullest extent she should have? On the other side would she meet people she knew? Her uncle, Ser Lucas, her parents or siblings? The men who were killed defending her? The men that tried to return the favor? She was scared of what the next life would look like. She also found herself worried about all she hadn't done yet. She had failed to live her own life, hiding in fear for most of it. She had failed to do any of her own goals like becoming a baker, she had failed to get her titles reclaimed, claim her home, or a new home, and she had failed to bring justice to her family name.

And now, she was dead. Sure, apart of her knew it wouldn't last, and she should wake up any moment now. But, what if she didn't? What if she just was trapped on the table in this death like state until she finally succumbed and died for real? What if something went wrong with the spell and she couldn't be woken? What if V didn't have any intentions of waking her up? Would V do that to her? Kill her off to have another servant to bend to her will? Surely not. V was a lot of things, but not evil. Right? She didn't think the Codswealth family was evil either though. Rude and blunt, and definitely had relationship issues with her family, but not evil. Just... politics and bickering. Just bickering. Until it wasn't. Until she became an orphan, until she became an only child, until she became an outcast from her homeland, and her family name disgraced. How well did she really know V? Maybe she wanted a servant, maybe she is petty and bitter and jealous of Kathryn's titles? Maybe that is why she would want her dead? As some sort of class punishment thing, or maybe to find a way to take the titles for herself? Surely she couldn't though? Then again, her family had money, and would just love a chance for a title like hers. Even of a low tier landlass claim, it opened a whole new world to even the wealthiest families if they were able to obtain any titles. And enough money, they could wash away much of dark history attached to it. Hell, maybe they'd gain favor with those who had the ability to clear her title for their deeds.

"NO NO NO NO!" She tried to scream. She couldn't be sure if it was a desperate plea to be spared, or her denying that anyone in her party could be as cruel as those who stole her life from her. She didn't know for sure. But... there was more... could she hear? Could she feel? She felt entrapped, like the world was enclosing on her, was someone ontop of her? She could have sword she felt the weight of something or someone on her chest. She wanted to scream, but she couldn't even be sure if her mouth was open, she couldn't be sure if she was making sound. She wanted to fight back, she felt like a cornered animal being toyed with. Being harmed for a cruel joke while their friends laugh at her weakened and defenseless state. She could have sworn she heard a scream, but she couldn't be totally sure if it was hers or someone else's. She did feel the weight on her chest begin to lift. But in her current state, she couldn't tell if one was the cause of the other. She wanted to keep screaming, fighting, she wanted to break down, she wanted to do anything! She was trapped though, in this useless, lifeless body. Unable to truly experience the world around her other than as a watered down witness. As if she was experiencing her death and end through a muffled door only able to guess what was happening to her, but knowing it was infact, happening. She wanted to flail, she wanted to fight, she wanted to get away. She needed to get away. She need air, she needed to get free. Her instincts told her she needed to fight, her instincts told her she needed to flee. She needed to do something! But all she could do was be afraid, and listen to the muffled noises of the others around her. She couldn't even be sure how much time had passed. She was so panicked that she couldn't keep track on her own. She also didn't know if time passed the same way in this state as if she was awake. For all she knew it could be only 30 seconds, or it could be months. God what if it was years? What if she was a comatose body on a table having to be moved off to storage while no one knew if she was alive or dead, unable to wake up? What if she woke up and she woke up old, having missed her whole life, accomplishing nothing, all for some cheap trick?

The white tiefling woman kept the happenings around her at the corner of her eyes and attention, but her main focus was on her long braid that was turning out as it did every time before. It was a bit hard to do at first when she was learning, but at this point she had years of braiding her or her sisters’ hairs. So it wasn’t all that difficult nowdays. In any case a few minutes in with a ritual ongoing and she was done with it so she hopped up from her seat, put on her coat and hopped to the kitchen, coming out with two buckets of water from the barrel. She filled it once, she’d empty it no worries just a bit of time.

Giving the spectacle one more look, she hurried out the door and walked a bit away from the coach house, throwing out the water out of the way then heading back, but not before noting an outhouse she supposed that was the next part of her plan. She put down her… barrel emptying buckets and picked one that she was almost certain was a pissing bucket or something and went to the outhouse to… do her part of the deal. A bit later she returned, putting the filled bucket for the dwarf to the side outside so isn’t in the way and picked her barrel emptying buckets again, heading inside. The ritual looked that it might be ending any moment now. She headed inside the kitchen, filling a the buckets again and heading into the main area of the place to note the ending of the ritual. Dramatic barding magic aside, the end result was after a sudden exclamation from her VERY good friend that was cut midway… the woman just dropped dead with a loud thud… a mildly unassuming and unimpressive way to go really as Kosara just stared at her unmoving friend for a bit, a meriad of thoughts rushing through her mind. She then also realized that she was going to have to attack V if she didn’t return her to the land of the living later… Grandpa would be displeased otherwise… probably, but V so far had made a good point about the benefits of necromancy that weren’t evil.

“Here.” She handed her small mirror to Lizbet when the girl wanted something to check if the woman was breathing. After hearing the confirmation that she was indeed NOT breathing, Kosara nodded. Sounded about right for a dead person yes. At least they weren’t going to turn her into a mummy or another type of undead… as far as she was aware anyways. She gave the bard a glance. Victoria didn't have the look of an evil necromancer... so until Kathryn was permanently confirmed dead, the tiefling decided to trust in V to bring her back.

Then a scream pulled her attention to the door where the cleaners were apparently just in time to witness a kill well perform. But it was a literal clean kill… No blood, no gore… no pesky gibblets anywhere. The woman ran away in screams, very dramatic that.” Hmm… probably. It's very fascinating!” Kosara concluded to the man’s question, looking at an unmoving Kathryn again.” Hey if she’s not up soon, I’m sure we will figure out something, but we should probably have Kathryn alive before more people arrive, V?” Kosara suggested before heading to the door again where the man was blocking the way.” Excuse me, could you please move slightly and thank you~” She asked and made her way beside him anyways as she carried the buckets out, tossed the water off and headed back inside and to the kitchen to get herself 2 more. She had another round or few to go.

The screaming woman gave Victoria a quick moment of thought. She glanced over toward her Raven familiar and issued a quick mental command, nodding toward the door. Without hesitation, the intelligent black bird croaked once loudly and took to the air, rapidly flapping its wings until it exited through the open portal and disappeared from sight. The spirit-made-flesh had its orders. Calmly, Victoria turned to young Lizbeth L'Rose.

"This is not true death, Mademoiselle Lizbeth," remarked Victoria, her face still colored with evidence of her preferred College of Bardic magic. "I cannot levy direct death upon someone, in and of itself, nor can I bring back someone who has genuinely passed beyond the Veil." She thought for a moment, gave a grin with sparkling, ambitious eyes, and solidly added, "...yet. But you see, our own Kathryn, noble Knight of Arcanaple, is likely conscious and mostly aware right now. If I have translated the effects of the this ritual correctly, she would be without sight or ability to directly interact with her surroundings. Her body has, for lack of better words, paused. No blood moves, no breath. Disease or poisons would sit idle, as unmoving as the Lady herself. Unless she has decided to take a nap, Kathryn hears our every utterance. The only thing I am unsure of," Victoria leaned over the supine form of the tall woman, her voice trailing into a studious, inquisitive tone, "...is if she has tactile sensation right now. Can she feel things? The ritual was unclear."

Victoria heaved out a big sigh and shook her head. There was really no way to know without subject feedback, or unless she experienced the effects of the spell herself. Being as she would not be able to rouse herself out of the spell until its full duration had passed, the Bard of the Grey Requiem decided to go for the faster option. "Let us ask her."

Riding boots deftly stepped up from the wooden floor and onto the table, astride Kathryn's torso to acquire the appropriate leverage necessary to carry out her experiment. Curious eyes regarded Kathryn's features as Victoria knelt down closer to her, red-auburn hair spilling down to frame her face. Then suddenly, a hand shot back and immediately swung downward in a fluid arc, connecting with Kathryn's cheek. The popping sound was almost articulate. Stinging, but not physically damaging.

Victoria hopped off of the table and moved to Kathryn's side, speaking clearly in her ear, "By any chance, Dame Kathryn, did you feel that?" She placed a hand on the lady Knight's sternum and released the energies of the Feign Death spell. Kosara was correct; it was best for her to come back to life before people arrived.

BlackBerry watched Victorias movements intently, eyes jumping between the various tools and materials the bard employed to weave her spell and bend the order of the world to her desire. He had seen the way her magic manifested less than a handful of times and seeing the rivulets of black pour from her eyes he was reminded of the phrase ‘The eyes are windows to the soul’ and silently hoped it was nothing more than poetry. He took in an involuntary gasp, his stomach dropped, as the air in the room became suddenly heavy, stifling, suffocating in its closeness swirling with arcane energies. As their necromatically-inclined-bard continued her magic it seemed all eyes and attentions had been caught in her grasp, Only Kosara was safe by busying herself with ferrying buckets in and out of the kitchen which BlackBerry had little care or time to pay attention to at that moment.

For all his protesting against this trick of Victorias he had to admit, part of him was morbidly curious. Victoria was right in a way; Death was the ultimate equaliser of all without thought for ones station of upbringing. The idea that Music somehow helped her to better understand the apparent magic around Death, a downward turn of his mouth and brow mirrored his lack of understanding, meant she only somewhat met his mental image of a Necromancer wielding bones from gods knew where. When at last the spell had been placed and Lady Kathryn had let out her last breath BlackBerry was right alongside the other two peering over the large woman's body and watched Lizbeth raise the arm only for it to drop limply back to the table. Even after on of the cleaners had fled in abject terror, Lizbeth continued to pour over Lady Kathryns semi-corpse state with enthusiastic wonder. Clearly the young lady’s curiosity and insatiable appetite for knowledge knew no bounds. BlackBerry wondered if this was something he’d have to prepare for or if it was just Lizbeth.

Humouring Lizbeths questions, Victoria explained that while Lady Kathryn looked as dead as a door nail she was actually alive. Mostly alive anyway but the state she was probably in didn’t sound much more appealing. He let out a breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding, and then promptly retook it at the ‘Yet’ Victoria added around actually bringing people back.

“Perhaps keep that last bit to yourself, Miss Victoria.” BlackBerry said, his attempt at a whisper, from the opposite side of the not-quite-dead Lady Kathryn. “Let us just settle for waking the not-quite-dead first. Yes?”

As Victoria continued to answer Young Lizbeths questions, BlackBerry instead took it upon himself to pick up the drink Lady Kathryn had dropped earlier, and replaced it with a mug of ale fresh from the barrel for her. If the Knights sacrifice hadn’t earned her at least one drink for the morning the mighty slap from Victoria, BlackBerry witnessed on his return from the bar certainly did it.

“Welcome back.” He would say to Lady Kathryn with the drink ready for her. “I do say you have earned this and then some.”

“I do believe, Young Lizbeth, we may wish to get you back to your Aunt sooner rather than later. Especially sooner given the ah…” He paused, mouth still open as he pawed at the air for the right word. Facing the other cleaner currently clinging onto the door frame as if it his last shred of bravery, BlackBerry then found the word he was after. He applied a hopefully reassuring smile. “Reception, to our Bards party trick. I would hate for word to get around wich may tarnish our reputation.”

Kathryn had lost all sense of time, of motion, direction, and of what was going on around her. She found herself panicked and though able to hear muffled conversations about her, she couldn't make sense of them. Be it a proper inability or just too panicked to focus, she had no way of knowing. She tried to flail, tried to fight, tried to flee, tried to do anything! All she could do was sit there and hope she would wake up. Hope she could continue to live some sort of life. Hope and pray that someday she would wake from this torture. She felt dizzy, she felt like she was upside down, or maybe on her side? Oh gods was she being dragged? Did something happen after she went unconscious? Were they attacked? Was her corpse like state taken as a body to be dropped into a pit or into the lake? No... no no no no she couldn't die like that... die even more so at least. She couldn't swim. If she were to somehow wake up being tossed into the lake she would not only sink, but even if she gained enough power and leverage to move, she couldn't swim, and she'd drown. She'd drown to never be seen again! No no no no no she couldn't go out like this. She didn't want to pass onto a new plain of existence. She found herself far too scared to face whatever came next. Life scared her too, but not to the same extent as this.

Then she felt the sting. A soft, barely noticeable sting. But... she noticed it. Not like the stuff she was feeling before where nothing could be for sure. But... this was real. This was happening now. And her mind was able to focus again. She felt her chest move again, as air began to fill her lungs, and exhale. She felt cold, cold like the sort of cold you got when you tried your best to heat yourself by the fire, and no matter how much fuel you burned, you could never get warm enough. So you just had to hope and pray you would survive longer than the storm as you fed the flames desperately trying to warm up. Joints still, she ached and pained as her whole body felt like it hadn't moved in ages. Oh gods... what if she had been out for decades? What if she had lost her whole life to some cheap party trick? What if her life was already nearing an end, and she had accomplished so little?!

From an outside perspective, Kathryn's hand would begin to clench and unclench, soon one of her arms bending briefly before falling flat on the table. Then for a brief moment, one of Kathryn's silver eyes began to flutter open, soon followed by the other as they slowly fell into sync with one another. As her eyes opened, the silver was lined with red as tears began to flow down the sides of her face. For a brief moment, that table didn't hold a noble knight, heir to a family name protector of those around her, nor a corpse that was in it's place a moment ago, just a scared girl who felt helpless and weak. Face red Kathryn's face turned to a rough smile as she sat up a soft chuckle replacing the deep strained breaths that previously escaped her. With that sliver of a moment passed, missed by those who may have blinked at the wrong times, or didn't know what to expect. Kathryn wiped away the tears smile holding strong and she fought to suppress the laughter. "Well shit V, that was something else." Kathryn said as if applauding to a magic trick that she had not been the subject of. She looked about her expression still warm to see who was around. her face red as the blood began to flow properly, and her eyes still red from irritation. "How long was I out? It felt like forever, looks like only a couple minutes passed here?" Kathryn said standing up letting her feet hit the floor with enough force that for a moment it sounded like she may pass through the floor, and briefly began to fall over as she lost balance regaining use of her legs. Catching herself, she stood up still smiling warmly.

The tall warrior woman smiled warmed just a bit more when BB brought her a mug of ale. Her arm reached up weak for the drink at first, and when she properly took it from Blackberry's hands, she nearly dropped it. Grabbing with both hands would save most the drink though! Even if she would refuse any potential help to hold said drink. Even holding it with both hands, the drink shook, spilling droplets and bits over her hands as she held it. In an effort to prevent this mess from getting worse than it was, and to help numb her own nerves, Kathryn took the drink and downed the whole thing in a few gulps, spilling much of it down her torso as she went. She seemed far more relaxed when she pulled the drink away from her lips and her smile seemed far less forced. "Thanks dude." She said kindly, though a little weakly. She would then walk ever so slowly to the ale barrel, fill her mug again, and begin drinking it again. Thankfully not as strong as wine, but damn it did help take the edge off. "I think BB is right, we should get going pretty soon here. Much longer and someone is going to think I actually died on that table!" Kathryn blurted out in a loud and very forced laugh. "Plus, I'm starving. Working out before breakfast is so much harder then I give it credit for."

Weather: Still cold. Bearable for those accustomed to a temperate climate, but the overall change is still felt with certainty. Clouds farther out have shown a hint of approach. The wind is still wind-ing, reminding one that its bite is still a factor.

Time: Morning. The sun is firmly in the sky now, beaming down unfettered upon the hillsides.

Ambience: Mostly clear skies remain, sans the approaching cloud cover in the distance. The fog in the low-lying areas has mostly burned away under the scrutiny of the high morning light. The Rose River Vineyard has an overall uplifting feel from a distance, while a few more workers could be seen dotting the grounds as they casually went about their day.

...except for this one lady...

Firelight from within the Taproom has been supplanted by the colder, pale light from outside thanks to the door still held open by the petrified cleaner. This also has the effect of releasing a noticeable amount of the heat out into the open air of the vineyard. Not to worry, however; it is swiftly replaced by a brisk intake of wind from outside.



The screaming lady's noise of mortal terror faltered, as putting one foot in front of the other took a sort of macabre priority in addition to continuing to properly regulate the intake and expulsion of breathable air. This was a misplaced act of survival. She didn't even seem to realize that her husband wasn't running and (not) screaming along with her. Apparently, the very notion of ritual magic that resulted in effects which duplicated precisely the effects described by its caster moved her to some very real, very intense emotions. Being fair, the intended result was to use magic to instantly kill someone and then drag them back from eternal slumber, as cast by a person with a flair for the dramatic, and visited upon someone of such size and strength that they might reliably fill in for a plow horse in a pinch. It left an impression.

Inside, the husband of the pair remained as he was, unsure of what to do with himself and genuinely hoping that this was all some sort of horrible custom among the Adventuring community, as was their oft foreign, ever-traveling wont, preferably . His relief was genuine in appearance as he let out a startled yelp with Kathryn's "resurrection", followed by a deep and only slightly shuddering sigh. The underlying mix of nervousness and barely contained excitement remained, this evident by the fact that he still absently held onto the door handle. He had no idea what to make of this situation and, quite frankly, likely stood in fear of his own personal safety. To his credit, though his hand was white-knuckling the metal device, his arm was significantly less rigid than earlier. He did not leave immediately, citing, "Ah, well, myself and the missus still need to clean, so... yeah." He shifted nervously from foot to foot, as if waiting to be allowed to leave unmolested. Then a thought occurred to him: "Hey, where's my wife?"

Striding up the hill perpendicular to the lady sprinting down it was a familiar face, attired in clothing more appropriate to a moneyed lady of the country; a long, moss-colored skirt almost (but not quite) hiding stylish but functional brown leather boots, a muted, matte purple corset with white lacing, over a white, long-sleeved chemise. A black, floral shawl was draped about her shoulders and covered her head like a hood to stave away the worst of the wind from her ears, which was pinned up with a tasteful, grape motif brooch. It was Cecily L'Rose, naturally, which could be detected through the still open door as she walked through the archway and into the courtyard of the Coach House. She gave a polite series of knocks on the obviously open door before poking her head in, saying, "Good morning! I don't mean to intrude, but I'm looking for my niece. Is Lizbeth still here? Oh, there you are!" She discretely entered the Taproom and looked around, noting a sense of energy and event from the people present. "Is everything okay? I just saw one of our domestic people screaming down a hill toward the laborers, saying something about a murder. Would anyone care to explain?"

The ever curious and attentive Lizbeth took up the question by explaining, if not entirely accurately, "They were showing me magic, Aunt Ceecee! Dame Kathryn was dead, and then she wasn't, and now the tea is ready and there was a ...barrel..." An odd look crossed Lizbeth's face which quickly subsided as she continued, "I mean, there was an argument and the Knight Lady couldn't feel herself getting slapped while she was dead, and our houselady got scared because she's never seen magic before (I think), but everyone's fine here! It's really incredible! It's like, all those strange things that happened might not be bad, right?"

Cecily raised a hand to cut the conversation short. "Oh, it that tea, Lizbeth? It smells like apples - would you please pour me a cup, if you have enough?" She seemed a little short with the girl, as well as terse of speech.

"Oh, um, sure!" she responded, gathering another cup from behind the bar. "It's grape leaf and apple peel!" The exclamation was downright optimistic. In short order, a steaming cup of aromatic goodness was handed off to Cecily and she sat at a nearby table.

The more mature lady inhaled the vapors deeply and took a tentative sip. "Oh, this is nice." It wasn't her favorite, but the statement was said in earnest. "I'm going to sit here and enjoy this tea for a few minutes, if nobody objects. But I came up here for a reason - Due to some changes in domestic staffing overnight, our Welcome To Rose River brunch has to be moved up to a somewhat simpler breakfast, in about a half hour or so. I hope you do not mind. We're just a little shorthanded, and this is the slower season besides. Only one section of field to bring in, only one wine to make. But it is so worth braving the cold to have. Anyway, will you join me sooner this morning on the terrace? It's behind the main house, just follow either path around." She sipped her tea again, visibly enjoying the hot beverage. She then added rather slyly, "Maybe you can tell me all about this 'murder magic' over eggs and pepper jam."

Another face appeared in the doorway, this one less polite in its arrival. A more diminutive figure with grey skin and facial tattoos gruffly barked out, "Ho there! Here for piss buckets. Hope I will leave before angry mob gets here." It was Urmdrus, dressed precisely as he was the night before in utilitarian clothing and a tough leather apron. Now, a rather large forge hammer was strapped across his back that wasn't there before, and one might hope that it was due to his workload and not anything nefarious. He impatiently tapped his foot, repeating, "Piss buckets?"

The only one who gave pause to this latest arrival was Cecily, who maintained a look of absolute confusion.

BlackBerry’s attention returned to Lady Kathryn for a bit as the knight came back to herself. He stood beside her with concern and worry for the poor knight who seemed very shaken by her experience for a moment, even nearly dropping her mug of ale. But then the moment passed and Lady Kathryn seemed her usual chipper self again by the time she had hopped off the table. BlackBerry shrugged off his concerns deciding it probably wasn’t best to press anything.

“Oh no Dear Lady Kathryn it has been many centuries in fact.” The joke, made in poor taste, slipped out before he could stop it.

“Before you go good sir, I must say I do hope we have not caused you too much concern with our Bard and Ladys’ performances of magic extraordinary.” Patting the mans shoulder reassuringly he then whispered in a conspiratorial manner to the man. “Please do pass on our apologies to you partner as I believe she may have ran half way to the next county by now. We had hoped to simply impress Young Lizbeth as thanks for all her work though I do admit we may have done so in a less than exemplary manner.”

BlackBerry then let the poor man escape to his cleaning duties, though likely trying to find his wife first. The mans departure was then very quickly followed by the arrival of Madame L’Rose who BlackBerry greeted politely, “Good Morning, Madame L’Rose. Do make yourself comfortable. We were just discussing when best to return your young niece to you.”, and then closing the door behind her in an effort to let the room warm up again.

Like a bolt from a crossbow, Young Lizbeth jumped in to answer her Aunts questioning with feverish excitement. It was rather charming actually to see the young girl so excited to share what she had seen. But this was cut short by Madame L’Rose herself to instead inform them of a change of plans for the morning.

Just as BlackBerry opened his mouth to reply a horrid gust of wind heralded the opening of the front door, again, and the arrival of Master Urmdrus.

“Piss buckets?” BlackBerry repeated, and then echoed. “Piss buckets? Piss buckets!”
Slapping his forehead, BlackBerry remembered with crystal clarity the deal the party had struck on the evening before. Natures Call returned to him and made it very clear that it would not be ignored a second time without consequences.

“Dreadfully sorry Master Urmdrus but it has been a rather exciting morning. I have yet to ah, fulfil my end of the arrangement, which I shall do so presently. Do excuse me everyone. I shan’t be too long. Lady Kathryn, the other bucket, where is it?”

“Ohh hey, Kathryn’s awake again! Good! I won’t have to Celestial Blast V!” Kosara cheerfully exclaimed when she walked into the couchhouse again, carrying her empty buckets as she gave the bard the biggest and most sincere and happy smile she could! Kosara wore most of her emotion on her sleeves… when she had sleeves anyways. Weird northern sayings aside, she grinned and looked at Kathryn again.” Good to see you are up, Kathryn!” She added and headed to the kitchen to finish up with her cleaning up chores, before she stopped mid step, looking at the bigger woman.” Please drink in some moderation! Don’t want to have to magic your drunk state again!” The white haired woman giggled as she skipped into the kitchen and filled the buckets again, before skipping out of the kitchen and towards thee outside… Almost done now.

Kosara saw Mrs Cecily while she was outside rolling the now empty barrels after another few rounds of throwing out buckets of water out. She gave the woman an energetic wave and greeted her just as energetically.” Hello, Mrs L’Rose!” She called out, about 70% certain she got the right adjective? Was that the word? Maybe… She wasn’t sure. In any case it was either Mrs… or Madame. But then Mademe was also something that the woman running the brothel back at Avonshire could be called… Pulling her thoughts from weird directions, she resumed her barrel rolling into the storage room where she had picked it form earlier before heading back inside.

She had not entered long and bolted to the fire place to write in front of it, merrily scribbling into that journal of hers, writing stories of grand adventurers, weirdness of northerners and their bathing habbits and of course the marvelous idea to use a barrel for a bath when their dwarven craft master arrived in this not too subtle and very direct manner asking for his pissing buckets. Berry was the first one to react it seemed. Kosara looked up and at the blue draconoid… dragon humanoid… at their Berry Pie.” There are 2 empty, but clean buckets at the storage room outside.” She told him where she dropped the buckets she used to fill and empty her bath earlier then looked at the craftsman.

“I left mine outside a few steps left of the door so it’s not in the way. Would you require help to carry the different buckets it to your workshop?” She asked honestly, asking if he needed some aid with transport and she felt a bit curious about his workplace where he planned to craft chitin into armor.

Smugness of expression wouldn't have been too out of line of an accusation, were it to be aimed at Victoria. Thoughtfulness, too. She had a lot to think about. The initial suggestion from Baronfjord concerning keeping the "YET" part of her musings about magic (specifically the part where she might remove life from a living subject and then returning it via necromancy) left unsaid was heard, processed, and silently rejected. Sure, she flashed a quick smile and wordlessly let him know that she was aware of this suggestion, but did not go into it further. Maybe she would look into it, if she ever became powerful enough to do so. And if she was capable of actually doing this, there was no way that she wouldn't make it known - within the appropriate circles, of course. Still, for the moment, Victoria had successfully completed a new piece of Ritual Necromancy, and this was an accomplishment worth some amount of celebration. She hadn't even flexed all of her arcane muscles yet, either.

The simple acknowledgement of the Dragonborn fellow's words turned into a look that might have included an eyeroll, were it not for Victoria's tendency to maintain a plausibly acceptable facial expression for most situations, be it persuasively or deceptively. But there was some truth to his words that she was not willing to get into right then, as he referred to the fact that her demonstration of magic might damage a reputation or two. It reminded her of the locals back in the Township who accosted her in from of Neil & Bob's Public House, demanding her womanly attentions before they would let her by. She handled it bloodlessly, with the application of the simplest of magics to darken her eyes to a shiny tar-black and used her words to promise them truly abyssal tortures. It solved the problem, but admittedly, did start others. Her reputation took a hit. But Victoria penchant for certain magics, her natural beauty, and a flair for the dramatic sometimes did that. She was ever the darker showmistress.

With all of this in mind, Victoria gave a shrug and turned her attention to her magical test subject. The change in demeanor was direct, but fluid. "Kathryn!" she began, speaking as if greeting an old friend after a month's absence. She even extended her arms as if to initiate a hug, but did not immediately approach. "You did so well, Kathryn. Everything went through with nary a snag nor hitch, and you were an excellent recipient of my magic. You should be proud of yourself. Truly." It might ave been layered on a bit thickly, but her delivery sounded downright sincere. She was feeling a little guilty about essentially dragging her into a situation that didn't involve her, and using the opportunity to test out a new spell for the first time under the guise of cheering up Lizbeth. But it did cheer her up. And the spell did function exactly as expected. And Victoria did learn things from this. Nevertheless, she wasn't exactly pure of intention, and she hoped to alleviate some of this. "Thank you. And yes, it was only a couple of minutes. We established that you had no signs of life, I did a quick tactile test," that involved her open palm and Kathryn's face, but she wasn't going into details here, "and I brought you back. Otherwise, it would have persisted for about one hour. Let me know if you have any questions, or if you feel a little 'off' for the next little while, okay? Just in case. You should be fine."

The call of her raven could be heard from the front of the Coach House; three dull croaks against the relative quiet of the morning. This went along with the mental command she gave the spirit-given-shape before sending it outside. Something was approaching. Victoria tensed for a moment, her hand reflexively but discreetly seeking the hilt of her sword on the table, even if it wasn't the most potent weapon she had in her arsenal. The smile returned to her face when she saw that it was Cecily. "Oh, good morning, Madame L'Rose! This is a truly breathtaking place in the country you have here, especially in the early light. And yes, I should positively adore to join you for a proper breakfast in a little while. Do we need to ...hmm... dress for the occasion? I am, afraid that I do not know all of the customs in this area - but I would like to learn."

In contrast, her interaction with Kosara in this moment began with something akin to a threat from the curious Tiefling. But her words addressed the situation with something akin to snarky grace. "I agree; that is good, then. I would hate to be Celestially Blasted. It sounds most inconvenient, now that the lady of the Vineyard has invited us to breakfast." Victoria smiled, content in the humorous sarcasm of her words and inflection, but inwardly her mind was calculating the potential damage Kosara could do with her preferred attack spell, as compared to her own application of debilitating psionic energy which she could inflict with her voice, supplemented by her backup attack of necrosis. If it came down to an actual brouhaha, Victoria might have to cheat. And while it was almost for certain that Kosara was just having a bit of fun, the fact was that she was a Celestially inclined spellcaster and Victoria herself leaned toward Necromancy. Were they not brought together by the fate of receiving those letters from Sheriff Arbalest, it would not be an impossibility to have seen them on opposing sides of a conflict. Victoria hoped nothing of the sort would come to pass.

The raven croaked again, sounding three calls before falling silent. This time it preceded the appearance of Urmdrus. "Good morning, Master Urmdrus." She intentionally used the honorific which Lizbeth insisted upon the previous evening, mostly because Victoria did not know what the usual term of address was in this instance. "I left one by the main archway, to the side. i hope it is sufficient. And, um, I look forward to seeing the fulfillment of our agreement." The last part was rather diplomatic in delivery.

Back to Cecily and Lizbeth, Victoria seemed eager to explore her new surroundings a bit. Maybe it had something to do with what Urmdrus was saying just a moment or two ago. "If it pleases you, Madame Cecily, Lizbeth, I wouldn't mind in the least helping set up. Even if all I might give is moral support in the face of vastly superior epicurean talent. Oh, and I still have a good bit of lovely smoked pork to contribute, if you would accept." Victoria smiled pleasantly, moving to get her belongings from the table.

Kathryn turned to face V after the resurrection had taken a hold. "Thank you?" She said a little shakily as V told her she made a great test subject. Kathryn say V's arms out to embrace in a hug, and Kathryn found herself a little frozen. Not overall negatively effected emotionally against Victoria. But between the fear she just went through, and the fact that Kathryn struggled with physical contact, Kathryn gave a sort of dorky smile in response. She found herself a little unsure of what to do. It seemed rude to not embrace now that she was holding out her arms like that? Plus, if V was going to anything, surely she would do it when Kathryn was out cold. Everyone at this point knew Kathryn was strong enough to lift considerable weight and mass. She had lifted and did a short targeted toss of one of the beasts in the town square. She could move barrels of wine as if they were her regular kit. And she hit hard enough with blunt weapons to separate appendages from their previous owners in a single blow or two. Surely V knew this, and wouldn't try anything while Kathryn was awake and able to swing back right?

Walking up awkwardly to the small woman, Kathryn wasn't really sure the best way to hug someone so short their heads wouldn't even touch in an embrace. She supposed she was wearing armor so awkward smotherings shouldn't b a problem. So very carefully she wrapped her arms around V and returned the hug, being extra careful to not crush her half elf friend. Then quickly letting go to continue with no more touching. Things finally began to calm down. Mostly. The cleaners were still trying to not freak out, and Kathryn was still drinking to suppress her fears and concerns. But they were indeed calmer! Kathryn's mood did lighten when Blackberry joked on how long she had been asleep. "Centuries you say? Hell, I've made my steward proud. I have been so good at me studies I became a wizard and have been granted eternal life." She said jokingly to the ever so clever dragonborn. "I do wonder what magics I have learnt in the years I have been out. I bet I can cool all the beers now!" She attempted to pull off in her best non noble sounding voice. Overall, 6/10 performance. "Between what you and V said, I am destined to be a master class of magic huh?" She said to wrap up her joke, a toothy smile crossing her face as she did so. Kathryn let out a short, but loud and blunt laugh as Kosara said she didn't have to blast V with magic death balls. Quickly covering up her mouth to hide the laughter. "...sorry..." She mumbled trying to not seem rude.

"I think your wife ran off down the road a ways. I uh... don't know how far she went... or what direction she went. Sorry my guy." Kathryn said sheepishly wanting to help, but at this moment just needed a moment to recover the ability to stand and not freak out. Yes, the worst was over. But Kathryn was still shaken, and to say she was jumpy was an understatement. Even by her standards. Should something try and surprise her now, fight reflexes could take over and she could find herself fighting for her life like a wild animal. No no... that wouldn't do. Topping off her ale she figured this was the best approach. The ale wasn't strong enough to get her plastered quickly, but just strong enough to maybe buzz her. Especially without breakfast. Which did remind her... she was starving. Between her fucked up appetite recently, her heavy work out this morning, and just how late the day had begun, she was starving. Felt like she could single handedly hunt down a while animal with her bare hands, and then eat it on the spot. Thankfully, breakfast was soon, and no one would have to witness Kathryn making a foolery of herself so much.

As Cecily stepped in, Kathryn found the land owning woman very much fit the noble atheistic far better than Kathryn did. Much like Victoria did. Kathryn did wish she could also fit into that niche better being the only noble woman here. But her practice in it stopped young, she rarely spent time out of her armor, and was very self conscious on her looks. Not that she was unattractive. But when compared to nobility like members who knew how to make the most of themselves, Kathryn gave off the impressions of a laid back guy barely caring guy than a proper noble woman. "You're looking rather lovely this morning Cecily. I hope we didn't get too rambunctious while Lizbeth was here. She's been a great host, while we may have gotten a little too comfortable at times." Kathryn said a little awkwardly as last night and this morning hadn't panned out the way that things probably should have. "With that, I do hope that we haven't caused too many problems." Kathryn emphasized towards the open door where the poor screaming cleaning lady had exited not too long ago.

"Wait a moment, who slapped me?" Kathryn said cautiously. That is firstly a bold move considering if Kathryn wasn't dead, and had woken up, most of the people in the room were small enough for her to toss around like a children's game of ball or toss. The exception being Blackberry probably. But then more of what Lizbeth said got Kathryn's attention. "Are there other strange things going on besides the giant bugs and rat man monsters?" Kathryn asked cautiously. Things seemed a little off since they got here, but Kathryn chalked a lot of it up to her own caution. Hell, even Cecily mentioning overnight staff changes got Kathryn a little concerned. Had something happened? Where more people disappearing?! More people turning into monsters?! "Is everything alright there? Did something happen to the staff? Is anyone hurt?" Kathryn asked concerned. Maybe apart of her wanted to make up for her lack of mental skills she usually held within the group. She was great muscle, and likely if she put some effort into it a half decent pretty face. But makeup would smear the inside of her helmet, and not look good when it came off. Maybe apart of her was still in that investigative mindset. Unable to properly relax, and not be ready for something to go wrong.

Oh shite.... the piss buckets... "I'm uh... I'm sorry... I forgot... and uh... went somewhere else..." Kathryn said shamefully. Hell, she was likely going to benefit most from this exchange, but had contributed the least amount of... well... piss. "I can try again later if that still helps?" She said unsure what else to say, before seeing Cecily's confused face. "We need it for working with the hides we harvested yesterday." Kathryn said simply. She didn't get into the details much though as she didn't know them that well either.

In the excitement of everything BlackBerry had been sitting down after greeting Madame L’Rose and Master Urmurdrus as they arrived respectively, even with Natures Calling ringing madly at him to get a bloody move on. As Lady Kathryn picked up and then added onto his little joke he threw her a friendly wink. Now he was back up on his feet and manoeuvring himself as quickly as he could without crossing his legs towards the door, but with a quick thumbs up of ‘thanks’ towards Kosara for answering his question in Lady Kathryns stead.

“If you two are to battle then at least allow the rest of us to watch.” BlackBerry threw over his shoulder to Victoria and Kosara exchanging, hopefully, only joking barbs at each other. “I am sure it would make a marvellous spectacle at the very least.”

Deciding to leave the rest of the conversation to the others, BlackBerry set his mind to upholding his end of the groups arrangement. Slipping out the door past Master Urmurdrus, BlackBerry stepped back out into the courtyard, closing said door behind him to keep in the warmth for everyone else, and promptly felt the brisk mid morning air give him a tender slap in the face. His breath briefly became fog in front of him as he let out an obligatory, “Brrrrr, still chilly this morning.”, in response.

Staring ahead it was then that he noticed the barrels tied to either end of a wooden stick sitting patiently in the centre of the courtyard. His brow, yet again for the nth time that morning, furrowed into mild puzzlement. He was mid turn back to open the door again before he decided against it, at least for now. Currently he had more urgent matters to attend to.

Rather frustratingly Master Urmurdrus had only provided two buckets between the four of them, and a quick check that went no further than deciding which was half full and which was half empty, Kosara and Victoria had made use of both of them separately. BlackBerry briefly considered making use of a different bucket given Kosara had said there were two clean ones in the shed.

No, he reminded himself, one should never mix lavatory and water buckets.

BlackBerry very carefully collected the half empty bucket and then found himself some privacy in one of the vacant rooms. A few minutes later, BlackBerry gingerly placed the now fuller bucket back and feeling very much relieved. Then after a quick wash of the hands with some water from the well he turned his attention back to the barrels still patiently waiting at the courtyards centre.

A brand new mystery to solve. He doubted Madame L’Rose would have been able to carry them, and he was somewhat certain he hadn’t seen the barrels on his way down this morning. But then again he had been half asleep when coming down earlier…no, it was more likely Master Urmurdrus had brought them along with him to carry the groups offerings. Just how much did the man think they could provide?

Opening the door again, BlackBerry barged across whatever conversation might have been taking place at that moment.“Master Urmdrus, I do apologise but there is simply no polite way to say this.” BlackBerry stood to the side against the stood and gestured with his stump to the barrels in the centre of the courtyard. Jokingly he said, “I suggest you might be more piss-imistic in your expectations of what we can provide.”

Weather: Cold, with perhaps a soupcon of chilly. Mayhaps a trace of damp clinging to the morning. It's still within the ranks of tolerable for those accustomed to changing seasons, which is a wholly appropriate set of circumstances to the day.

Time: Morning. And what a lovely morning it is, too. The immediate chores of the earliest hours are handled, and people begin considerations of ante meridiem repast.

Ambience: The sky remains mostly clear, as it had been since dawn. The small interval of time has allowed the still rising sun to dispel the last of the fog in the low areas, leaving an excellent view of the whole of the vineyard, save for the spot just the estate house. The building itself is by no means the only structure within sight of the Coach House, but it is the dominant building of the area. The Rose River Vineyard employees, few of them that were out in this, their off-season, now wore the typical, broad brimmed hats of agricultural workers as they walked up and down the rows of the few areas still producing this late in the year.

One gathering of people remained separate from the rest, however. One lady, just calming down from an earlier fright, buzzing like an anxious bee to a trio of others and pointing in the general direction of the Coach House.

With the door now closed, the Taproom begins to warm back up a bit. The whitish light of the outdoors is banished to the exterior, and the casual, flickering orange of the fires and few lit candles returns. The scent of herbs and apples takes the occasion to concentrate in the now still air, a gentle and pleasant reminder of Lizbeth's steaming herbal tea on this cool morning.



Hushed voices and glances up the hill toward the Coach House seemed to be the preferred social interaction of one group by the nearest cultivated field. Nothing exact about their discussion could be discerned except for sentence, which cut through the air like a sudden, harsh wind, "GODS ABOVE HE'S STILL IN THERE!"

These words were barely heard within the Taproom, and as the person still closest to the door, the remaining cleaner heard it better than anyone else within the building. This did not mix well with the anxious feelings of uncertainty already swirling around within his brainpan. "Oh!" he exclaimed, taking this as an opportunity, "I'm going to go catch up with her now, Madame L'Rose, Mademoiselle L'Rose. And, um, if it's okay with you, I'll send her home and handle the Coach House m'self, yeah?" He nodded hopefully, almost desperately, before backing out of the door once more. As the door was closing, he intoned something nearest to a response to Kathryn and Baronfjord, both, "Yes, all a big joke, big joke among Adventurers. It's all fine, no one hurt, I'll just pop off and find the missus..." The door came to rest closed within its frame with a soft clacking of wood upon wood. He was remarkably easy with it, perhaps out of a desire not to aggravate the people within - his employers or the likely insane, magic-dabbling Adventurers within.

Cecily adjusted the shawl about her shoulders and took another sip of her tea. She gave a polite smiled in the direction of the retreating domestic worker, and gave an amused "Sure," to the now closed door. It wasn't a huge issue and as long as the job got done, she wasn't especially picky as to how. Cecily even went as far as to give a terse explanation as to why she was taking what could be considered insubordination lightly. "I have more important things to worry about than this drama. My husband's father just died and we had to get him out bef... " She paused suddenly, a quick look of alarm apparent for a second, maybe, then continued, "Sorry, excuse me... and then this thing at Harvestide, the autumn production just ended - and it ended late - so it's going to cut into icewine times, and now we're shortstaffed with our house staff. I'll be honest, it's all overwhelming. Arnaud, er, that is Monsieur L'Rose (my father-in-law) usually ran these things. The people that manage the Vineyard and Winery know their jobs, but I'm half-certain that Lizbeth knows this business better than I do. I can handle money and balance a budget, but again, it's just so overwhelming."

It looked like Cecily felt a touch better, getting the little rant off of her chest like that, but she suddenly looked a little self-conscious. "I apologize, I don't mean to dump this on all of you. It's the slow season and we don't have to worry about work matters really until spring. Clear out the old harvest, put in some new vines. Grape growing as in life." Cecily finished her tea and set the cup back onto the table. She gave a little sigh. "In any event, no, no one here has committed any unforgivable acts to which I am aware. It's genuinely nice having you all as my guests for the season. It will be lovely to have you for Frostval and for Lizbeth's birthday. Yes, and to our private gathering where we cask up this year's icewine and sample a batch of last years'. It's a small, but exclusive event here at Rose River."

Lizbeth had taken the moments that her aunt was speaking to clear the table except for what people were immediately using, but as soon as Cecily seemed like she was stopping, added, "It's okay, Aunt Ceecee. We can figure this stuff out. And having the Ones Who Answered around would be really good in case something happens, right?" This earned a sudden, sharp look from Cecily, so Lizbeth took a different approach, "Like the Ankhegs, right? Hey, let me get this finished and I'll help out with breakfast!" She suddenly seemed bubbly.

But Cecily did regard the question giant bugs and rat monsters, "Not really. I mean, I've heard of Ankhegs, even seen them at a roasting party, but until today I've never seen one alive before. The ratmen? That's new to me, as of Harvestide. Our staff issues... no. We have a couple domestics that didn't come in. It's a scheduling issue. We are fine for this morning. But I will not say no to the company from Mademoiselle Victoria, nor from my lovely niece. As for the legendary (?) Piss Buckets, I have no idea what they are for, nor do I wish to involve myself. I wish you fruitful results in ...whatever this is. If you will excuse me, Dame Kathryn, Miss Kosara, Master Baronfjord; I shall see the rest of you in a half hour." She stood and made for the door, glancing back expectantly for those who would follow to do so. She gave a polite nod to Urmdrus before exiting.

Lizbeth gathered her things and left behind her aunt, giving the same expectant look to Victoria. On her way out, she slid a plate of prepared toast over to Kathryn, who had mentioned being hungry earlier.

Urmdrus seemed particularly unimpressed, overall. When he found out that the barrels weren't fully utilized over the evening, he gave a short huff and turned to grab the buckets from their resting spots, wherever they might be, in the meantime. Kosara's offer to help with the buckets was met with a gruff, "No." It was carrying buckets that he had already carried up here before, and according to those present they were barely filled anyway. Brief consideration had him follow up with, "Help? Piss more. Your Ankheg takes more time now." The group's Dragonborn associate was met with a strange reaction: The stoic, wiry Dwarf looked at Baronfjord with a perplexing gaze for a hard moment, then barked out, "HA," followed quickly by another, equally stony, "HA." He nodded his head and continued, "Funny. Drink more at night." He balled up a disproportionately large fist and gave him two quick, harmless taps on his arm. "Funny." Urmdrus exited to tend to the buckets.

“Indeed it would be!” Kosara agreed merrily with V about being Celestially Blasted off the face of the world.” I mean, I was quite very certain, I wouldn’t have to, you proved some very good arguments about your abilities and never displayed evil means or acts with them and Grandpa always says to judge a person by their acts, but Grandpa also says to suffer not evil, so I am happy to have confirmation. Now whenever I meet Grandpa again, I can tell him all about it!” The tiefling smiled happily and warmly to V with all the joy in the world as if she hadn’t commented about potentially killing the bard earlier. Maybe it was just Celestial Warlock thing?

Then she turned to Cecily when V mentioned a desire to help with what the tiefling presumed was breakfast prepwork or at least setting the table.” Ohh, can I help too? I grew up in a caravan stop and the tavern there, I know how to carry things to and from a table! Also if we have a bit of time, I can make some flat breads!” She asked and suggested at the same time with big enthusiastic eyes. Weird northern culture aside, it was a marvelous start of the day! And it was certainly better than waking in the hayloft though the hayloft did provide some rather unique experiences.

Of all things of importance however was the hug… Kathryn gave the bard a hug. Kosara’s eyes were eyeing the two of them until the hug was broken then she walked up to the bigger woman, looking at her with big expecting eyes also.” Can I get a hug too?” She asked hopefully from her very good friend. If Kathryn was giving out hugs, Kosara was gonna ask and she was also planning to ask. Hugs were a very important friendship thing as far as she was concerned. Not the hugs that most adults got into behind closed or not so closed doors of course, but regular happy innocent hugs!

“Just tell that adventurers were doing adventurers things!” Kosara chimed in when the man said he was going to go out and try doing some damage control. Which was true… there was a certain degree of weirdness that followed in the wake of adventuring parties for some reason. Sometimes more… sometimes less, but a woman turning deathly still and seemingly well dead was far from the oddest thing that Kosara had witnessed in her life. Then again she grew up with a giant golden dragon horse teaching her magic in the desert, learning to dance with blades and meeting all sorts of travelers in one of the caravan rests in a desert crossing path… So her open mindedness might be a bit greater than rural Avonshire locals who never traveled far from their homelands.

“Alrighty!” Kosara replied to the dwarven craftsman when he rejected her offer for help and was deeply wondering now if the dwarf really found Berry funny and this was how he really expressed it or if he was sarcastic. In the end the lil girl in Kosara decided that Urmdrus really found it funny and nodded to herself.

“So, what are we doing now until we go for breakfast? Should I go see if I can prepare some flatbreads? Pretty sure I can do it before we meet up for the meal.” The white haired tiefling asked in the end.

"Slapped?" mused Victoria, one finger to her chin as if in contemplation. "Ah. Apologies, Kathryn. That might be the lingering effects of the quick tactile test I administered while you were dead," remarked Victoria cheerfully. She practically beamed, satisfied with both herself and the succinct way in which the explained the abrupt and not inaccurate accusation of slapping the much stronger woman. This, and maintaining an open dialogue with positive body language would hopefully assist in relaxing problems that may arise from the tall Knight if she took offense at the (almost) completely innocent tap she has received. Maybe it was time to go.

And being as it was time to go, Victoria would have to let Baronfjord down a little bit, if he had hoped to see a magical duel between Warlock and Bard. "Paradises above, Baronfjord," remarked the lady, "We shall have to postpone the 'marvelous spectacle' at the very least. I've no wish to throw about damaging magic carelessly in this fine vineyard unless I have no other option, and a struggle might lead to injury which will, at the very least, make breakfast less enjoyable. Another time, perhaps."

She did have one point to bring up with Kosara, however, but it did not involve incantations nor the gathering of necrotic energy. "Absolutely, Oh Dancer of the Southern Sands. I would be honored for my name to find itself in the conversations of Celestials. But for now, if you will please excuse me, I am going to visit the terrace of what I'm positive is a lovely and welcoming Estate House."

Victoria gave a bow which was just a tad too extravagant for the occasion, bending at the waist and touching a hand to her forehead, then bringing it out wide in a sweeping motion. When Victoria rose, she finally retrieved her personal effects and arranged them about her person, buckling on her swordbelt and shouldering her violin. Her fine, charcoal cloak made its way into her shoulders with a flourish, followed swiftly by her especially Bardy hat. The knapsack which contained her ritual book hung loosely at her back opposite of her violin. She looked equally as ready to travel a great distance as she did to simply greet the day officially. When she noticed this about herself, there was a sudden bit of introspection. This was indeed how she would ready herself to leave for parts unknown, with the exception that there would be a Morty at her heel, pulling her loaded errand cart behind. Maybe she just wasn't fully comfortable here yet. The fact that they engaged in mortal combat just yesterday might have been a factor. Or maybe it was just her nature to be prepared for a hasty exit. Victoria would have to see if this habit continued, longer into their stay.

To this note, the Bard of Requiems gave a quick mental command to her porcine thrall, bidding it to act in a manner inoffensive to those around it and generally stay put. She did not need someone hurling a pot at the undead beast, only to have it retaliate. A new smoked, cured boar carcass was not worth someone getting hurt, nor losing their place for the season. Dodge only, return to its master if attacked. If it couldn't carry the last one out, it would just stay put.

Mental commands didn't stop there, as Victoria was slowly building herself a bit of a macabre menagerie. She stepped outside, following Lizbeth and Cecily, and extended an arm. Her raven, perched on the railing above the door, took to wing and lighted upon her forearm, at least until she cleared the archway leading out. Even then, it stuck around until after they caught sight of the group of people near the bottom of the hill - the horror stricken domestic lady and field hands - and rose to circle in the air above them with a series of croaking caws. Victoria drew upon the least of her magics to darken her eyes to pitch and cause the visual effects of her magic, the likeness of black tears, to manifest. Yes, it was childish. Maybe even a little foolish. But she waited until the woman noticed her presence, caught her gaze with instant, and gave her a wink with a full, mischievous grin. She even tilted her head to the side, just a little bit. This situation of this lady reminded her of the men in front of Neil & Bob's, or any amount of people who thought they could treat her in amazingly prejudicial ways because of her preferred magic, her mixed heritage, the stereotypes commonly associated with Bards, or just the fact that she was objectively a conventionally attractive woman by any standards of either Humans or Elves. Giving a little scare felt like a tiny piece of vindication. And yes, it was foolish.

"So, Madame Cecily?" inquired Victoria, dropping any physical manifestation of her spellcraft before anyone else noticed, "What is on the menu for breakfast? I am decidedly curious." Her smile had become warm and innocent, in contrast to the immediately previous incarnation of the expression.