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[h2][color=darkorchid][i][b]Victoria Belmont[/b][/i][/color][/h2][i][b][color=9932cc]Half-Elf, Bard, Level 5[/color][/b][/i]
[color=9932cc][i][b]HP:[/b][/i][/color] 33 / 33	[color=9932cc][i][b]Armor Class:[/b][/i][/color] 15	[color=9932cc][i][b]Conditions:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[color=9932cc][i][b]Location:[/b][/i][/color] The Coach House: Taproom
[color=9932cc][i][b]Action:[/b][/i][/color] Ritual Magic [i](Feign Death)[/i]
[color=9932cc][i][b]Bonus Action:[/b][/i][/color] [color=black]Morty[/color], [color=dimgray]Familiar[/color]
[color=9932cc][i][b]Reaction:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
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[right][img]https://i.ibb.co/k55RrWV/Victoria-Alt-4-2.png[/img][/right]
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	[color=9932cc]"No, Master Baronfjord,"[/color] 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. [color=9932cc]"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."[/color] 

	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, [color=9932cc]"Thank you."[/color]

	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. [color=9932cc]"Funny that you would mention 'Bones of the Damned'. There are few things that I prefer for the ritual."[/color] 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. [color=9932cc]"No blood needed for this piece of Necromancy. So no, good sir; no ritual dagger this time."[/color] 

       	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. [color=9932cc]"Please, Kathryn? Lay down here."[/color] 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. [color=9932cc]"Get comfortable. I know this spell as a ritual. It will take a few minutes to build up the necessary power to manifest."[/color] 

	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. [color=9932cc]"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."[/color] 

	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. [color=9932cc]"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."[/color] 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. [color=9932cc]"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."[/color] 

	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. [color=9932cc]"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 [i]and how[/i] to look. One day, everything just started to make sense. This understanding led me to a truth. Be it a large Truth, or simply [i]my[/i] truth, it is as thus:"[/color] 

	[color=9932cc]"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."[/color]

	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, [color=9932cc][i]"Fall into Oblivion."[/i][/color] 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.