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."