[center]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/center][center][img]https://t3.ftcdn.net/jpg/09/22/37/38/360_F_922373886_yaSOK4amHViJxLZZbgkn8AU570gMg6UV.jpg[/img][/center]
[center][img]https://i.ibb.co/vXD6Q0t/Update-Text.png[/img][/center][center]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/center][center][hider=Rose River Vineyard][img]https://i.ibb.co/yRk60Zg/Vinyard-Estate-Gridded-Day-Lv4.jpg[/img][/hider][/center][center]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/center][center][hider=Old Distillery][img]https://i.ibb.co/rFHTL8t/Hidden-Distillery.jpg[/img][/hider][/center][center]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/center]	

	[u]Weather[/u]: The weather outside remains a beacon of relatively calm early winter out in wine country. While no new snow falls, the thickening clouds despite the continuing day hints at a possibility in the near future.  

	[u]Time[/u]: Still late morning. The sun remains behind its veil of overcast grey-white. 

	[u]Ambience[/u]: The hidden distillery contains only as much light as you bring into it. Not even so much as a torch sconce or lamp is available to illuminate this thirty-five by twenty-five foot room. Feet tap upon a relatively even brick floor, and the same sort of rocks which made up the wall the party tore down to enter here seem to form the walls. Wooden supports maintain the tunnel, walls, and ceiling, though the ceiling was mostly a network of thick, gnarled sycamore roots. A deceptively thin layer of dust and/or covers things in here, though not enough to prevent a casual inspection of things. There are crates, several stacked barrels, and two large distillery tanks present. 

	The corpses don't have a lot to say at present, being that they are, indeed, corpsing very nicely as far as one can tell. 

	From the outside, one might barely hear a low whoosh of wind blowing past the unearthed tunnel's entrance. 

[center][color=darkgray][h2]*****[/h2][/color][/center]

	To recap: 

	Investigating the bodies has yielded marginal results. One trying to find anything of importance upon them or anything past that which is obvious was not the epic event of deductive logic one might have hoped. The good news is, they ARE clothed, so their shriveled bits and pieces keeps to the general concerns of social modesty for the area. For whatever good this does... you've at least got that proverbial feather in your cap. 

	The effects of the magic surge remain; Kathryn is slightly taller, Victoria is marginally taller, Baronfjord is ...blue (imagine that), and Kosara retains the flowers in her hair as more than a fashion choice. A bit of time has not changed the changes. 

	The barrels in this place, for those who took some time to check them, are mostly all full, having been produced and stored in this room for at least as long as the place has been walled off. Examination and sampling of the liquid therein had revealed an amazingly balanced and smooth hard alcohol. If it ever was wine, it stopped being that following the distillation process. It is, at this point, quite flammable in addition to its other properties and strangely familiar note of flavor. 

	The previously mentioned crates, following the Kathryn's search for tools to tap, revealed a number of hand tools of the trade of distilling, barrel sealing, and liquid retrieval. Due to the wonder of their being packed in a manner consistent with their continued use over time, they have not received the ravages of dust and only a little of the ravages of time. 

	Things are going rather smoothly, all told. Nothing new with the setting. No sudden drops or raises in temperature. No giant insects burrowing up from the loose earth, nor attacks from small, green humanoids. In fact, it's only Baronfjørd "Blackberry" Chedgusah who even thought that something might be [i]slightly[/i] out of order within this place, being as he thought he, at the extremes of maybes, [i]swore[/i] that the dead guy in the back was facing away from everyone when they came in. And now, it was facing toward.