"I do have to agree V. Maybe what we need is a chance to stand back and look at the situation under a much less..." Kathryn paused trying to think of the right word for the situation, then wondered if thinking this long to complete a sentence would undercut the right impression she was going for. "A much less intense situation." She said the thinking look still on her face. Alas, she would need to work on that. Thankfully Blackberry had come up with the idea for V to ask her new teacher about the plant! That should hopefully help a ton. An expert in plants and herbs looking into their situation. Combined with stepping back to look at what they saw again, surely they could come up with something right? "I do wonder if the town has some record of people who have gone missing? Maybe we can find something out from there? If I had to guess, they were probably workers on the L'Rose vineyard at one point or another. So maybe even there is some kind of workers history, or old paylog we can look at?" Kat asked hoping for some sort of confirmation that it wasn't a terrible idea. Her hope was to cross check these two theoretical lists, and see what overlapped. Though first she would have to see if records like that existed, or if something comparable could replace it.

While deep in pondering thoughts, attempting to use that plus sized brain she had in her skull, her carriage of thought had been cut short by a cold icy ball of FURY hitting her square in the face. After spitting out the bits that had been captured by her mouth and letting out a rather childish laughter for someone of her size she stood up with a big toothy grin on her face. "Maybe I will, Maybe I wont." The half giant said smugly as she bent down to grab her own clump of snow and compact it into it's own ball of frozen fury! She was a bit more subtle than her thoughts implied. She allowed her very close friend to finish her own investigating work, waiting for her to stand back up. Less than a second or two after Kosara had failed to locate the evil grape that grows undead people, Kathryn leaned into her throwing stance, sending a snowball of much large size and density into the tiefling woman's chest! "My turn!" Kathryn called out as the massive snowball hit Kosara square in the chest. All in good fun, but alas the big woman could get carried away.

Weather: The weather outside is frightful. But the fire is so delightful. And since we've no place to go, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow. Okay, maybe frightful isn't really the best term. It is fully into winter now, and light, puffy snowfall descends slowly to the earth. It is suitably cold. However, there is very little wind, leading to a rather gentle, picturesque winter evening.

Time: Early evening. The sun is setting and night is swiftly coming over the Rose River Vineyard.

Ambience: It's actually a grand, soft evening, punctuated gently by the whispery sound of fat, lacy snowflakes making connection with their brethren piled up on every surface in sight. The slightest vision of red-purple light which represented the setting sun through partial cloud cover pressed the last of its radiance across the landscape. A large, clear moon stood on the other side of the sky, promising an element of dim but reliable illumination as the sky clears later on.

Within the Coach House, things are quite cozy. So long as one sticks near to the fireplaces, one can hardly tell that it's distinctly freezing outside. Or for that matter, having time to adjust to the colder temperatures of the season, one might even cheerfully tolerate the evening out-of-doors for moderate amounts of time, owing to the lack of wind - provided that appropriate attire for the occasion is worn. Scents of cooked meats, fresh bread, and grapeseed oil lamps make for a comforting bit of ambience, and the firelight does leave a warming flicker about the well-lit taproom. In the kitchen, there seems to be an ever-present pot of simmering water, helping immensely with maintaining the temperature on the ground floor as well as providing hot water for tea, or other appropriate uses.

The place has recently been cleaned, restocked, and is as fresh as the day you first came upon the Vineyard.




Deep within the reaches of the southern moors of the Avonshire region, things might look quiet from afar. A bird's eye view cresting the hills of the area paints a portrait of solid, calm wonderment, stretching as far as the eye can see. It's ideal, really; a piece of rural bliss across a cold, quiet landscape which yields enough agricultural plenty to keep the neighboring regions, as well as the standing armies of the nation, fed and hale. Those on the ground know that appearances can be deceiving. It is a muddled truth to say that nothing bothers this idyllic place; perhaps more acceptably stated that nothing overtly bothers this place. Issues both incidental and concerning appear sporadically, dealt with or not by those with their feet on the ground, seeing greater shades of the truth of the region. It has been an interesting few weeks, to be sure.

Taking an element of control over the situation, Cecily L'Rose insists that the remains, or what remains of them, be transported from the hidden distillery to elsewhere. Be it to Fort Darenby for the Sheriff's people to deal with, or to Avonshire Township to he interred within hallowed ground, it doesn't matter so much to her. She does say that she will try to find records of any workers from decades past who went missing. It might even be as simple as asking some of the older folk around town, be that town Southmoor, the Township, or parts more distant.

The barrels of brandy, or at least two of them, found their way into the Estate House per Cecily's instruction. The final one - the one which was tapped in the distillery, remains behind at the Coach House as a reward for finding and dealing with the situation. "This would mix into a lovely Port, or perhaps a special reserve of our Fortified Zinnoberrot," she mused.

Luckily, waiting for the group back in the Coach House were six sizeable ceramic jugs full of fresh, lightly bubbly, apple cider, with instructions to "place jugs in simmering water to heat." Such luxuries did wonders to wash away difficult days. Or weeks. Also luckily, the spacious bathtub had been delivered to the Coach House a day or so following the Hidden Distillery incident. It was left in the front area of the taproom and would require a concerted effort to place it in a more convenient, and hopefully warmer, location. Cecily made good on her promise, be it a couple of days late.

Master Urmdrus, in his characteristic tradition of barging in whenever he feels like it, barged into the Coach House because he felt like it. He had his huge Sack O' Stuff, in a traditional burlap style of sack, filled enough to make closing the top of it within his meaty fist mildly annoying. He flapped the sack onto the nearest table and helped himself to a mug of cider. He downed the whole of it in one long go and plunked the empty drinking vessel back onto the bar. "Apples. Like apples. Do not have them back at home." A substantial belch followed. Urmdrus was truly a Dwarf of mystery and talent.

But speaking to his talent, the stocky fellow returned to his bag and upended it, dropping a series of green, chitinous items out. Some of them were obvious in nature, others less so. A person who made it a point to visit the crafty fellow might have noticed some of these pieces coming together - at least the larger ones. They were a rich, embossed green, strong, well articulated, quiet, with the critically necessary flexibility of live bone. Notably absent from the items were the shield and cuirass which the older Dwarf was first working on, but there were interesting tidbits to be found. Urmdrus first went to Kosara with the items she specified. Smaller items, for the most part. Decorative. Things to go in her hair, maybe a decorative clasp that might fit about a horn. Knickknacks, if you will, made with Dwarven craftsmanship, if not a notable amount of flowery embellishment. "Heard talk about something. Had extra. Early Frostval gift." He held out a coiled length of treated, braided leather, the business end bearing painful slivers of Ankheg chitin. The same material studded the lengthy handle and made up both the heel and collar of the device. The length of the braid was lightly tinted green, competing with the chestnut leather stain. "Lizbeth likes whip of Constable. Made you one from your kill. You don't like, ask her trade."

He then grunted and turned to Victoria. "You said make yours second. Made yours. This - some of my best." He lifted from the pile a thing which looked like a cross between a cuirass and a corset made of green Ankheg chitin mottled with black, secured to a backing of rich, silky material. "Good protection. Wear under clothes. Dance, ...somersault... in this." But he wasn't quite done. One last item was handed over. It looked like an enameled cloak brooch or large pin made of the same material, in the rather caricatured but easily identifiable shape of an Ankheg facing. Upon it was a rune in what appeared to be an older style of Dwarven rune, for anyone exposed to the written language.

Shortly after Urmdrus finished gift giving, Lizbeth bounded into the Coach House with a look of absolute glee on her face. Over her winter skirts and kirtleing she wore a masterfully put together cuirass of green chitin, near perfect of fit but allowing for a necessary amount of growth to occur comfortably. In her arms, she carried the finished shield that was under construction in Urmdrus's workshop, appearing as giant grape leaves of Ankheg shell, layered atop one another with silvery metal embossments. From the look on her face, Lizbeth was obviously there to show it off. "Isn't it perfect?" she asked joyously. "Isn't it just perfect?"

Evening settled over the Rose River Vineyard, bringing with it the hope of the season of rest, and eventual renewal. But for now, a blanket of snow settled quietly across the landscape rather peacefully. Everyone existed in the hopes that it would remain that way.

BlackBerry had always known to some degree that there was a lot that went into Animal Husbandry and his first week at the L'Rose estate had confirmed this. But what he hadn't fully appreciated was that there was A LOT to animal husbandry. In the first week BlackBerry's task had simply been kept to the care of Old Boy in his single stable at the coach house under Jons supervision. As previously mentioned he had mostly done the thankless tasks such as cleaning down Old Boys stable, replacing his feed and water each day. Now however Jon had decided BlackBerry was ready for the more rigorous tasks of horse-care.

When checking over Old Boys teeth, in the age old way of the universe's sense of comedy, Jon had barely uttered the words "Careful with that file not to stab the poor thing." before BlackBerry did just that. When it came to then trimming old boys hooves, "Should he not have shoes?" BlackBerry had asked, and Jon informed him that not all horses need or even should wear shoes, BlackBerry found it hard to get enough force or even the right angle with the file to wear down Old Boys hooves enough. Jon thankfully took over and with one of Old Boys hooves held between his thighs set to work with a hand at each end of the file to wear down the hoof to a healthy length.

Despite the setbacks and having to be reminded repeatedly on various aspect of care, Jon had invited BlackBerry to also lend a hand up at the workman stables, either out of respect for Blackberry's efforts or hate depending on how you looked at the situation. The horses at the work stable were a very different breed of beasts from either Old Boy, they were large creatures with muscle pulling their skin tight and almost steamed in the cold air when they were taken out of their stables. But for all their stoic grandeur they would give a little start when BlackBerry arrived either from his bright(er) colouration or from being such a novelty. Likely it was a bit of both.

Even with the few beasts the L'Rose had on the property, every day he finished with a feeling that the Stable Master had shown him all there was to do, he would turn up the next day to find there was yet another thing he had to learn, or even relearn a few times before the facts stuck in his head. The amount of work he now had to do was immense; cleaning the stables now took hours and more than a few times the wheelbarrow would tip over in his rush to get everything done which only made more mess for him to clean up. He struggled to keep track of all the different tools needed and often had to get one of the other stable hand to begrudgingly show him where things were. And all of this on top of trying to take care of Old Boy back at the Coach House.

Needless to say the novelty of it all had worn off ad likely died in a ditch. The bath tub at the coach house saw a lot of use as each day BlackBerry would return smelling of sweat and....shit. He unfortunately found that he would need to buy some new robes after a few new stains refused to budge despite vigorous cleaning.

One morning however was different from the others. And in the darkness of winter, lit only by the few brave lights in windows and torches found BlackBerry and Jon standing in the Coach hHuse courtyard facing the stable.

"I tell you Jon, I have nary a clue what has possessed the fellow. I came out this morning to feed him and he tried to bite me." BlackBerry gestured towards Old Boy, who was now licking the lower stable door.

"Are ye sure he weren't just going for the feed?" Asked Jon, a man who was nearly as wide as he was tall even without the thick coat he was wrapped in.

"Very much so. The fiend would have taken my nose if I had been any slower."

Jon made a non-committal noise and replaced the pipe in his mouth. The two men stood side by side several paces away from Old Boys stable, watching the horse licking the door for another minute before he was apparently satisfied with his work. Old Boy then gave a harsh snort, twin jets of steam bursting from his nostrils, and took a few laps around his small enclosure, and then resumed licking the stable door.

Jon removed the pipe from his mouth. "He's stressed, when did you last take him out?"

"The other day when I was cleaning out the stable. The fellow was reluctant to go back in afterwards until I led him around the courtyard a few times but otherwise seemed fine in himself."

Jon went to put back the pipe but then halted midway as a thought occurred to him. "And where else?"

"Where else?" BlackBerry echoed.

"Where else, where else have you taken him while you've been staying here?" Jon ad now turned to face BlackBerry. And in the following silence, gnawed angrily upon the end of his pipe. "No wonder the poor things in a state; you've gone and left him locked in there all this time with nought to do, and not even giving him the relief of somewhere to be. Horses are like any other animal, they need to be taken care of proper. That means proper sleeping, proper eating, proper care of their feet, teeth, and coats." Jon was stomping towards the small storehouse to the east of the Coach house grounds as he continued berating BlackBerry over his shoulder. The mans voice muffled for a moment when he went into the storeroom to return with a bridle in hand. "And exercise." Jon slapped the bridle into BlackBerry's obediently waiting hand. "If you're really wanting to keep the beast then you need to keep better care of him; you wont be having us there to remind yer when to fed him, brush him, or water him and all."

"I would remember a darn sight better." BlackBerry snapped, growled out the complaint between grounded teeth. "If I were not being worked to the bone every day doing all the tasks no one else either wishes to do or can not be bothered to."

Jon simply moved the pipe from one side of his mouth to the other and let a single puff of smoke rise from it. "Worked to the bone? Boy, you aint worked nothing." There was an almost malicious glint in Jons eye now. "'Worked to the bone', you're only here till the end of the season, rest of us is here all year round. You're going to be out there on the road and if something happens to him." Jon took out the pipe and jabbed its end towards Old Boy. "Out there you'll need to know how to take care of him cause no one else will be around to help you. So you'd best wise up and listen to us proper or you'll regret it. And now more of that cheek."

BlackBerry took a breath and while trying not to grind out his words or roll his eyes, said. "Yes, yes. I see your point, and I do apologise for my outburst." Part of BlackBerry felt like he should explain a bit more or add on to his apology. But his arm was still aching from yesterday, it was far earlier than he ever wanted to be awake, and he was generally in a foul mood with it all.

"It's not me you need to apologise to mate, it's him." Jon pointed his pipe at Old Boy, who had now fixed his attention on BlackBerry and snorted. Jon upended his pipe and knocking it against his boot asked. "You remember how to fit the bridle? Good, I'll leave you to it then. A stroll to the village and back should do the trick. Best of luck to ya."

"Wait, hold on. Are you not going to help?" BlackBerry snapped his head between Old Boy and Jon now walking away.

"Consider it another lesson lad; how to deal with your horse when he's stressed."

"Did you not listen? He tried to bite me."

"Better learn quick."

After the figure of Jon had disappeared into the darkness BlackBerry stepped towards Old Boy with the bridle in hand. "Alright Old Boy. Shall we go for a wander then? I shall just need to put on your bridle first before we do so...please, I kindly ask you do not try to bite me again." When Old Boy made no furhter movements other than flicking his ears, BlackBerry undid the letch on the stable door and entered. To his surprise old Boy remained politely still though did still let off several distinctly frustrated snorts, but let BlackBerry fit the bridle without any fuss. "Well then. Thank you good fellow. Shall we be off then?"

The walk itself had initially started with BlackBerry being almost dragged out of the Coach House drive by Old Boy as mule had heard loud and clear it would be taken on a proper walk as exercise, and was damn instant it was going to get it. The pair managed to find the main road, their journey lit in equal parts the moon setting in the distance and the sun clawing its way from the other side of the horizon.

Buildings smouldered in the dying light of the day, a hundred vertical lines of smoke marking the end of scores upon scores of hopes and dreams. Dead and dying lay scattered. Some were soldiers. Many were not. The skirmishers not declared the field safe as of yet, but that hardly mattered. They would all serve in death, one way or another, and she was the most dangerous thing out there, anyway. A job had yet to be done. This town was selected for a purpose.

Victoria rode astride a great, skeletal beast decorated with scrimshawing and armor plates, barely giving the area a close look. Her eyes were only for the prize of this location: a cemetery which served the population for many townships around. The quality of the dead here would make fine additions to bolster their ranks. There was knowledge and power present. Someone who already possessed both of these things was needed to dig it out.

She slid from her necrotic steed and walked through the ruined cemetery gate, eyes sharp and mouth twisted into a smile. She gathered her personal energies together from the ether and whispered them to life, a dirge in her heart and chant upon her lips and she directed them toward the ground around her. This place was no longer hallowed, which meant it was only a matter of minutes before her personal vanguard clawed their way from beneath the ground and shambled from behind mausoleum doors. Heroes, nobles, and peasants alike joined the dance and offered themselves to their new master. This was expected. When the townsfolk heard the call of Undeath and rose to meet her as well, it was not. Victoria's smile grew into truly amused laughter, as sweet to hear as the ringing of harmonious bells in the distance and as chilling as a glacial wind.

Groggily, Victoria pulled in her first lungful of conscious air and stretched beneath her extraordinarily warm and comfortable blanket. The fire in the hearth had burned down to embers and she really didn't want to get out of bed just yet. But she had things to do. The memory of the dream came back to her in tiny snippets at first, but after a minute or so concentrating the Bard had pieced it mostly back together. "...same nonsense I always see when I close my eyes..." she mumbled, even if it wasn't exactly true. Personal jokes aside, it did suddenly snap her fully awake. There was something suspicious about this. Her mind scanned across the events of the previous day and narrowed down possibilities. This dream was something that happened to her. Perhaps Victoria's senses hadn't caught it at first because of her close proximity to necrotic energy, but even so, she possessed no immunity to its effects. The brandy, the wine, and her pig all came with a note of familiar flavor in common. "How interesting," she finally said aloud. There would have to be a discussion with Kathryn about this.

The evening that the cider was delivered gave Victoria a sense of calm contentment. While she was a wine drinker primarily, there was nothing wrong with a good, crisp cider. She treated herself to a cup and sipped it slowly, savoring the regional flavor and warming elements to it. This was nice. Warm place to hang one's hat, the opportunity for study, and a fine collection of beverages that were politely framed as "social lubricants." If only she had a crowd to show off to, Victoria might be in bliss.

Of course, nice turned into near ecstatic when Urmdrus began distributing Ankheg chitin. Hers was amazing. Green was not exactly her favorite color, but the quality was obvious. It seemed almost weightless compared to other armors, even the lighter ones to which she was accustomed. And there was a curious black mottling to it, which confused her at first - until she remembered that the killing blow upon the creature was when she whispered notes of necrotic energy to penetrate the gargantuan insect, entering through the last attack she made upon it. Urmdrus had made her fatal strike into a macabre decoration. "Marvelous," she thought, beaming pleasantly as she appraised the armor.

Casting the appearance of modesty aside, at least in part, Victoria shed her coat and high collared shirt with barely controlled excitement. The closest of garments she wore remained, sheer black silk that flattered her agile dancer's physique. She unbuckled and loosened a belt but maintained her dignity, as above all she was a person of mannered proclivities (if admittedly not perfectly so). Then she slipped herself inside of the new armor. It fit like a standard leather cuirass and secured just as easily, but was immensely more comfortable. Even the corseted part seemed to flow with her movements. The segmented plates of chitin were more protective than hardened leather, lighter, and unobtrusive against her body. But when the word "somersault" was awkwardly mentioned by Urmdrus, the highly motivated Victoria did exactly that. A standing sideways vault took her into a full vertical rotation, hands acting like spokes of a wheel at the halfway point as she brought herself back up to a standing position. She felt nothing encumbering her movements. More testing was required. To this end, she stepped upon a chair, leapt into a handstand upon the table it was in front of, and pivoted to face back in the direction of her arrival. Victoria kicked from the handstand into a flip, as she landed deftly upon her feet back where she began.

A fist unaccustomed to being raised in anger (as Victoria preferred stabbing implements) rapped its knuckles upon various parts of the bespoke armor; midsection, breastplate, and shoulders. She smiled. "Oh my, thank you, Master Urmdrus!" she exclaimed. "This is practically a clothing accessory!" She began to replace her shirt when Lizbeth entered the Coach House, sporting her new armor and shield. Victoria had to agree with her assessment. It was, in fact, perfect. Her almost giddy reaction to Lizbeth's proclamation looked a lot to anyone observing like a stereotypically girlish bonding moment.

This seemed to be the last stress-free moment that Victoria had over the next couple of weeks.

Two major events took over the vast majority of Victoria's time, as well as many others in and around Southmoor. The first was the coming of a standard winter illness. In and of itself this was not unusual, but the number of visitors to Medician Floquet increased seemingly every day. And those were just the ones who traveled to meet with her. Mothers came on behalf of children with the older looking after the younger despite the fact that they all were afflicted equally. Others came in for themselves, regardless of their degree of illness. Their presence was to help cure the affliction, but paradoxically is served to help spread it to others along their way. Annick's reserves of herbal and alchemical remedies were spent nearly to completion rather quickly, and simply having the money from sales (when she chose to charge those who could afford it handily) did not make the medicine replenish itself. As Victoria was not skilled as an Herbalist nor as an Alchemist, her help in this regard was minimal. All she could do was follow instructions and help to alleviate symptoms. Things which she really did not want to clean up, she cleaned up. Much of the time Victoria used magic to aid with this, though Annick was not thoroughly happy about it.

It was a grind which lasted days and days. Much of Victoria's time was spent in Southmoor, helping out the Medician and her daughter tend to the sick. There were a few nights that she never made it back to the Vineyard, and offered explanation as best she could while insisting that the L'Roses and their people stay on the estate for the next while, until the illness died down. Slow and painful days ticked by until things were under control. Victoria, predictably, was exhausted.

The only upside was that, to prevent personally contracting the disease, the Bard got to attire herself in an oiled long coat and plague mask. It wasn't her style, but she had to admit it was iconic.

It was during a rare lull in business that Annick came to Victoria, a stern look upon her face. "I took a long look at those grapes, Miss Belmont. It's encouraging that you didn't know what you were looking at. I know you're one of those adventurers that the Sheriff hired. And I heard a rumor one of them was a Necromancer." She seemed to spit out the last word with some disgust. "I served in the last Necromantic Wars. Saw a lot of things - give me dreams I'd rather not have. Did things. I know you're the Necromancer they're talking about. Truth is, I've been waiting for an excuse to put a knife between your ribs." She said this coldly, without discernible emotion, like she was ordering a cut of meat from a butcher. "You've been nothing but dedicated these past few weeks. Good bedside manner. Patient. You're even good with kids. I don't know why you're walking the path you are, but I'm convinced you're not like the ones we fought twenty years ago." Annick sighed and brought the focus back to where she started. "Those grapes, and what you described sounds like desecrated land. You said the Vineyard is producing naturally. I can say that this isn't the right growing season for these grapes, and I've seen the taint of Necromancy more than most folk alive today. If you're investigating something up there, you might want to look into your own studies for answers. Now come on, I need you to flavor the medicine before the next batch of young'uns show."

The next such event was a lot more sudden of onset. Not a disease, but an accident. Ice, building up on a lumber storage barn caused a collapse, or at least that's what they could get out of the survivors. Some logs came loose from the stacks and went on a rampage. People got hurt. It was late in the year to cut trees or process lumber, but occasional avarice or desperation for building materials drove one such location to push beyond the boundaries of what was safe. There would be financial and personal reparations to be made eventually, but the immediate need was to see to the injured.

There were an easy two dozen in varying states of physical disarray and a few vitally so. Victoria tried to do what she might, setting bones or sewing skin back together in a manner that was inexpert, but she did so under the explanation of the Medician herself and took to it better than she did tending to the sick. Considering the number of badly hurt townsfolk, Victoria's ability to heal magically was depleted quickly and, without time to send for those who might be able to help in that way, she had to get her hands dirty. Cutting, sewing, holding people down as painful treatment was practiced upon them, proper application of bandages seemed indeterminate of duration. In one instance, the now magic-less Bard had to assist Annick insert a hooked wire into a laborer's chest to lift a smashed ribcage out of a punctured lung. The procedure was successful, technically, but the man did not make it. Others were just beyond help and passed before even magic might have assisted.

Annick noticed the efforts, and failures, of her new student. "Did the best you could. You saved a lot today. The fact is, you might make a better Surgeon than you do a general Healer. Got the hands for it." It was nice to hear, but did not bolster Victoria's confidence much. This was too much, too fast, and when her brain could make sense of it and actually take learning from the experience, she might find a mote of satisfaction. But not yet. Later that night, Victoria allowed herself to feel for their families. She would try to find time to be a part of the funerary service. That, at least, was her true calling.

When Victoria wasn't working for Annick, she was tasked with transcribing books on the subjects of general healing, humanoid anatomy, and diseases. She might be found at all hours of the night back at the Coach House sitting near the fire, pen in hand, carefully duplicating the texts in front of her or tracing diagrams. It might have looked like obsession were it not for the fact that she made it a point to treat herself to personal leisure time, and on the regular. Victoria was learning a lot all at once and had no desire to burn out.

Emotions were complicated things, she found. One evening after both of the emergencies had passed, Victoria stumbled her way into the Coach House and flopped bonelessly into a chair. "I delivered a baby today," she announced flatly. "A little boy. Good lungs. Medician Floquet says he's... he's..." Stress finally caught up to Victoria as she began sobbing. She covered her face and let real tears fall.

While it was good to get things out, Victoria felt more than a touch exposed. She rose, wiped her face and straightened her clothes, and grabbed her cloak. Dignity mustered as best she was able, the Bard took up her violin and made for the door, insisting that, "I need to clear my head. Please excuse me." She walked out into the night air, careful to close the door behind her quickly so that she did not let too much heat escape. It was quiet out. White blanketed everything peacefully. Wind seemed nonexistent and the snow wasn't falling right then. A huge moon shone in the sky above, and it was downright pretty out there, if frigid. Victoria was glad to have her cloak and a good pair of boots to ward off the worst of the cold.

A few minutes later, Victoria found herself at the base of the watchtower overlooking the river. She carefully climbed the structure until she reached the top, which thankfully was mostly clear. A deep breath was taken in and heaved out, visible in the frozen air and ample moonlight up that high. She set her bow to strings and began to play. It was a simple melody at first which built upon itself, layering complexities and turning into quite the excellent performance. It felt as if she was alone in a world of darkness and snow; alone with her thoughts and the ability to process the last series of tough, draining days. A quick casting of Minor Illusion gave her a simple percussion section to accent her music, and she soon began dancing atop the watchtower in the middle of the night, doing her best to get back an essential piece of herself.

She did an excellent job of it, too. Music was a skill she used to center herself, and in short order she genuinely felt better. She stopped playing and prepared to go back down. It was at this moment that she paused. In the distance, indeterminate of direction, the plucking of a stringed instrument could be heard. Clear but quiet notes from somewhere beyond Victoria's range of vision in the darkness traveled upon the cold, still air, reaching her pointed ears as her exerted breathing slowed. She was not the only one out this night. Perhaps it was time to return indoors.

And what a month it was. To start things off, there was no clear winner to the snowball battle. What started out as a friendly game of snowballs in the cold weather seemed to turn into a warzone as the clumps of snow were dealt with more vigor as the battle progressed. And Maybe, just maybe, Kathryn got a little too into it. But alas, someone standing at 14 feet tall could make and throw some really big snowballs. It wouldn't be long until Kathryn and Kosara were half buried in the snow with Kat flat on her back after returning to normal size leaving a Kat sized hole in the snow in one of the few untouched areas of the battlefield. Otherwise, no surface was spared the carnage. Either tore up for ammunition, or struck by the destruction. Thankfully, the fields would be burned soon enough for a clean harvest. "That was fun." Kathryn spoke up flat on her back, catching her breath, and a big grin on her face as she continued to sink into the giant Kat shaped hole. "We should do this again at some point." Sitting up Kathryn would help Kosara out of whatever hole she landed in. Either under her own power, or caused by Kat getting a little too into the battle.

Once it was called to return back to the coach house, Kathryn found herself trying to stretch out the muscles in her back and shoulders. Though she had been more relaxed recently, she had been tense as hell. And so much physical activity on her person in uncommon methods have caused her to become uncomfortably sore. To her surprise, Kosara had offered to massage her to help relieve some of the physical stress stuck on her back. The cost? A piggyback ride back to the coach house. "This seems like a ploy so you can feel up my muscles again?" Kathryn said with sarcastic suspicion. That was probably exactly it, but she had to admit that a professional massage sounded great... "Fine, you got a deal." Kathryn said in an almost challenging tone. "But first, we drink. Not wasted because you gotta do this well. And I want my works worth out of ya yeah?" Kathryn said with a confident smile as she drank from the brandy filled waterskin. Seeming as Kosara didn't want any of the "Cursed Brandy" Kathryn would take care to grab something to drink when they got back to the coach house. After more than a couple sips, Kathryn turned around and bent over. "Alright my lady, shall we?" Kathryn offered waiting for Kosara to climb on her back. Once on and secure, she would book it full sprint back to the coach house! Kosara was thankfully not a 600lbs barrel. Much easier to job with on her back than her morning workout routine!

Barging into the coach house with some less than subtle drunken giggles Kat bent over as to not accidentally send Kosara's face into the door frame. Reaching behind the bar Kathryn would grab two random bottles of wine with a huge grin on her face, still unable to suppress the giggles before calling out to anyone in the main room to the coach house "Kosara is gonna help me unwind a bit, please do not disturb!" The half giant sang sung as she did a couple spins before half dancing up the stairs. A kosara on her back, and two bottles of wine in her hands. Sadly, she would have to set down her tiefling friend before they could continue. "I need to change into something more comfortable. So I'll take the wine and if you wanna grab what you need meet me back at my room in a couple minutes yeah?" Kathryn offered once Kosara was on her own two feet. Then, she'd rush back into her room tossing the bottles on her bed, and with expert speed removed the bits of armor from her person before changing into her comfort wear. When Kosara returned Kat had set up the room as best as she could, but alas she was no expert. "I don't have a table, so I hope a bed will do well enough?" Kathryn asked a little unsure of the situation.

Kathryn had no idea how tense her body actually was. Not until Kosara pressed into the knots in her back causing such a rush of relief for Kathryn to call out more than once to the sudden drop of physical stress. "OH GODS! Where did you learn that?" she'd ask her tiefling friend, giving her the best back massage of her life. Kathryn was far from the best patient though. She had trouble staying still despite laying comfortably in bed as Kosara got all the knots and pains out of her back, and she was so tense that even relaxing took effort! Every few moments Kathryn would let out a verbal release as her body became more and more relaxed. She had no idea just how wound up her body had become, and for the first time in years she could relax.

A couple hours after a mildly drunk and giggling Kathryn had originally burst through the door, she returned to the main pub room of the coach house. Hair frizzled, and as relaxed as a pile of slime sinking down a stairwell. "Gods I haven't felt that good in years. Y'all should get some of what Kosara offered me. I swear it changes you." Kathryn said sounding like she was relaxed enough to sleep. Before letting out a very soft giggle of sorts still a little buzzed. Then taking rather large glass and filling it with the totally not cursed brandy, nursing it at a near proper rate before relaxing for the evening.

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The next few weeks kept Kathryn rather busy. Between her morning workouts, daily training sessions with Lizbeth, and her book work, Kat had little other downtime. Kathryn still made Lizbeth work on endurance and strength training. But far less intensely than previously. Now they practiced with swords! The first day Kathryn found herself getting a little carried away with the sword play and after only a few practice swings, Kat had accidentally snapped her sword across Lizbeth's in an attempt to pin it against a tree. She would bring a lot more practice swords after that incident just in case. Kathryn had to regularly remind herself to not swing with the same might she would in battle, and for the most part it worked out well! Kathryn however was not one to show mercy to her student. During their duels she never let Lizbeth win. She didn't go out of her way to send her into the snow every day, but Kathryn wouldn't let her land a swing if she could prevent it. Many of their mock battles would go with letting Lizbeth take a few swings, and Kat blocking it with her mock sword. Giving verbal instructions on how to improve her odds of hitting Kat, Kathryn then explaining what she was doing to block Lizbeth, and warning Lizbeth when she was making an offensive move on her. The couple of times Lizbeth got a little too confident after blocking a few of Kathryn's swings the tall warrior simply gave the girl a smirk and said. "Then let's step things up." And instead of standing still waiting for Lizbeth to strike her Kathryn would begin marching forward in the snow with ease using her simple height and strength advantage to traverse the terrain far easier than her student.

The more advanced training would be a huge step up. "When it comes to defending yourself, you are primarily going to face two sorts of enemies. Shady bastards who are going to use every trick in the book to wear you down until they can get a strike in on to finish you, and brutes. Most people who get into the fighting business by choice do it because they already have some skill in it. Or are used to already being more powerful than everyone around them." Kathryn would speak up between strikes. No longer calling out her directions of attack, but going slow enough that if Lizbeth was to pay attention she would see them coming. But with each slow lumbering swing Kathryn took a step forward, forcing Lizbeth to take a step back and forcing her to constantly change her stance. "Unfortunately for you most of these people will fit that second category. Fortunately for you, I am bigger than most of them. If you can hold your own against me most of the rest will be hard pressed to go toe to toe with you." Kathryn would say continuing to step over the snow as if it were barely a hindered. Now Kathryn's blocks from Lizbeth's attacks were getting closer to Lizbeth's person. "Someone like me is going to use the fact that they are bigger, stronger, and heavier than you to push you into submission. Meaning you need to be faster than them, and know when to break away. Avoiding a blow is just as much of a skill as blocking on. Ducking, side stepping, disengaging to get a better vantage." As Kathryn spoke this, it would become apparent that Lizbeth had been backed into a pair of trees that had grown together to create a barrier that her only way out was now through Kathryn. At this, Kathryn would swing her wooden blade with considerably more force than her previous swings, this time watching as Lizbeth did a partial duck, and used her blade to guide Kathryn's sword the rest of the distance above the small girl's head. Kathryn watched as Lizbeth took the moment while she was ducked to slip to Kat's side and gain distance.

If this were a proper battle, Kathryn would have struck again. Probably to knock her flat on her face. But Lizbeth was doing so well using the advantages she did have against Kathryn. She wanted to reinforce those skills. She did take a swing at the young girl when she tried to gain distance. "My reach is also better than yours. If you let me strike your back, I shall." That hit didn't hit with any force, but enough to tap the young bean's back and cause her to stumble. "You need to work on your footwork. Most battles and duels wont let you stand still. But your stances are getting better. And your blocking is improving." Kathryn would show Lizbeth a few ways to help keep her footwork comparable to her stances so if forced to move, she can keep her swings and blocks effective. "You're learning well. Keep working on your footwork, and your stances. And uh... sorry for the bruises. I tried my best to not hit you too hard..." Kathryn said a bit shy. "Keep working on it, and we'll move onto some other weapons soon. Maybe throwing weapons, or shield works. Both very good skills to have." Kathryn said, rather proud of how well Lizbeth was learning a blade. "Sword first. You gotta know the basics before we mix things up more." Kathryn wouldn't move onto real weapons for a bit still, nor metal training weapons. Lizbeth was still working on blocking, and Kathryn didn't want to cause too much more harm to the small girl if it was avoidable. Lizbeth so far has still been unable to land a hit on Kathryn. But she imagined she may someday before the winter is out if she keeps practicing. Kathryn was still not going to let her win. She wanted Lizbeth to earn that for herself. But she also wanted the girl to know she was doing rather well. It was a difficult balance.

If only Kathryn's teachings in her studies were as successful. She found herself struggling to read the books and texts from the goblin camp. Even worse, looking back through her notes and V's notes, it looked like Kat had mistranslated something early in her studies and it seemed to have a rippling effect to the rest of her translations from that point forward. It changed whole words! Whole sentences! it turned questions into comments, and comments into suggestions! Places into names, names into descriptive words. It crippled weeks worth of progress from a simple error made in a minor slip up that seemed to fit. It felt like a sabotage of the worst kind! "MOTHER FUCKER!" Kathryn screamed so loud that anyone on the lot for the coach house could hear. Emphasized by the sheer force of Kathryn's fits striking the door out of anger, leaving a visible crack on both sides of the door, and a bloody hand for Kathryn. "fuck..." Kathryn said to herself rather embarrassed and shamefully. In that moment of post door fisting clarity, the miss translation seemed to clear itself up! The change was subtle, but it also meant that most of her progress hadn't been lost! Just a few key aspects needed to be changed! After cleaning up her hand and talking with Master Urmdrus about fixing up the door she wrongfully took her anger out on Kathryn was able to fix up her mis translated notes rather quickly! It still took time to catch up to where she left off, but when she did a bunch of her old notes began making far more sense! Finally, a break in this tedious task.

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After a string of very unpleasant dreams, Kathryn decided tonight was going to be a late night. The dreams were not memories, but they were unsettling none the less. She couldn't even make sense of them, she didn't even seem like herself in those dreams. But they were beginning to get to her. So she would stay up late tonight, and get mildly drunk to see if that could dull the dreams. Taking a hot bath a few hours before everyone else settled in, the half giant felt clean and rather womanly for a change. Had she not been in the mood to relax wearing her dress may be a valid option! But alas, this was no place for a ball. But she was clean, wearing comfortable garbs, and still had a sword hanging on her belt. That belt however sat over her shoulder to be easily set down so she didn't have to lug it around all night. The cider was a welcome change to things as well.

She however, could not stop thinking about the dream she had been having. It was foggy, and gone by the time she woke most nights. Especially at first. But now? Now she was beginning to recall it in the daytime like a much faded memory. It felt like she was an officer of a large commanding army. But... her words were not her own. Her actions were not her own. And around her? A sea of bones littered the ground. She didn't want to even imagine what could have put such a train of thought in her mind. But something had. Her own dark thoughts? A story she read? She couldn't recall a story like that immediately but surely it had to be that. Yes there were people she felt that wronged her, and needed to be punished. But that dream... That dream was that of death incarnate. With her own person seeming in the middle of it all.

Something to help take Kathryn's mind off of the rather unpleasant dreams, was that Master Urmdrus had finished some of his works! Gifting an assortment of arms and armor to various party members, and importantly Lizbeth's! And she even got her own shield! "We'll have to work on fighting with shields soon then. I look forward to what you can do there dude!" Kathryn called out to the small bean. "I do have to say, the warrior setup does suit you rather well." She called out to Lizbeth while she showed off her new kit. The whip was going to be an interesting one to work with. Yes Kat knew how to use one, but she wasn't too experienced with one. On top of that, she wasn't sure how to counter one that well either. Should Kat and Lizbeth get into proper weapons before the snow ends, Kathryn would have to adapt. But she herself would also get a chance to learn something new. Plus the reach on the whip may be better for Lizbeth in the long run. Though Kat's own kit wasn't ready yet, she still had her own chain mail set to work with. As well she knew she could defend herself rather easily should the time come. Plus seeing everyone else get super excited for their gifts was rather adorable to watch.

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With studies going well enough, training with Lizbeth going smoothly, and no more doors beaten into submission, the rest of Kathryn's time was spent relaxing where she could. To her honest surprise, she even had a chance to enjoy the bath!!! And she would never admit to the amount of dirt and grim that came off her person with a proper bath. But to make sure she could enjoy it properly, she would soon take one with a lot less dirt and grim to follow. A nice hot bath in the nice super cold season, and being able to relax with wine and hot cider in her pajamas was something that she otherwise didn't get a chance to do. In this current moment, she found herself relaxing with some sweet wine she had heated up in a pot over the fire, pouring it into a nice mug while wrapped up in blankets and her new sleeping bag pajama with sleeves. It was... a crude outfit. But it was warm, modest, and it was somewhat protective as well as comfortable! What else could a girl want?

Watching the way V stumbled in and collapsed, Kathryn was a bit worried for the small woman. Kathryn had heard rumors on what had happened, but by the time she heard it was far too late for her to be super effective in helping. V however, was in the middle of it all. The woman despite her obvious fatigue seemed to be in a bit better spirits as she talked about how she had delivered a baby boy today! "That is wonderful Victoria!" Kathryn spoke up in glee! But as V continued, she appeared to have her front crack more and more. Before finally breaking down. Soon, the half elf who had done her best was gone. Getting as much distance from her reality as possible. Kathryn hesitated. Apart of her wanted to follow, another part wanted to give her space. In the end, the former choice won out. Kathryn had heard too many stories of people who couldn't handle their worlds anymore wandering off into the cold to not be seen again until the snow melted. She also remembered how alone, scared, and broken she was after Ser Lucas passed. The only thing to give her company was the beer bought with their combined savings. She'd back off if needed, but she wanted to make sure that V knew she wasn't alone in all of this.

"I'll be right back too." She called out to the room as she attempted to get on her boots. Wearing her sleeping bag with sleeves made it surprisingly hard to move with how much padding she had on. A joke could be made about her being a marshmallow in this moment, but there were more serious things to focus on. Boots on, sword belt over her shoulder, and a big soft hat, Kat was ready to assist! Well, almost. She grabbed the pot of heated wine, sealing the lid on top, and clipping a couple mugs to her sword belt.

The hike was slow going, thought Victoria's tracks were easy to follow, Kat didn't want to accidentally miss a turn and have to double back. The trail was easy to spot though. The watchtower that Kat had been too on her first morning here. It was a good isolated place, with a good view in all directions! The music she soon heard was the final confirmation of where she needed to go. No longer having to take it slow, she began marching through the snow with ease closing her distance to the tower rapidly. When Kathryn reached the base of the tower she could hear the music far more clearly. Even listening to V play, it reminded Kat of simpler times. She felt like a young girl again, watching a show with her parents and their friends. Though she couldn't see Victoria, she could hear every string, every beat, the music was something that was just... comforting in a time when little could be. Kathryn closed her eyes enjoying the moment. Taking in every beat as another moment patching up her happier memories. Giving them strength to see the light again over the less than good memories.

When the music began to quiet, Kathryn opened her eyes to see the moonlit tower standing before her. Maybe she even heard some echoing of V's music? Other locals maybe joining in on the melody? She couldn't be sure, but she knew it was peaceful. A taste of something better. Entering and climbing the tower, Kathryn found herself up top where Victoria was rather quickly. Doing her best to not surprise her bardic friend. While still part way through the hatch, setting down her belt and the pot of hot wine Kathryn spoke up softly to Victoria. "I knew you were good, but my gods. That was something otherworldly." Kathryn spoke in a calm but warming tone. Like a sister attempting to comfort her sibling after a hard day. Making her presence known now, Kathryn stood the rest of the way up and out of the hatch before sitting down. Pouring the hot wine into both mugs she passed one over to Victoria. "You've done a lot of good for these people. I hope you know that." Taking a sip of her own wine she held the flavor for a moment, before swallowing and letting out a comically large steam cloud. "But if you ever need help, of any kind. We're here for you. Okay? If you need help in town, I'll clear my schedule. If you need help or support when you're back here, we can lend a hand. If you just want somewhere to escape for a few moments, we can help you there too. But you're not alone in this." Kathryn after taking a moment to let things sit in let out a soft but warm chuckle. "I'm also not good at this sort of thing. And sometimes people just need space. I just wanted to check in on you. So if you want me to go I'll go and get myself plastered so Kosara can sober me up again." She said in a rather joking manner. But the offer was serious. She didn't want V to feel alone with what she was going through. Even if she wanted to be alone, knowing others were there for her could make a huge difference.

“Umph.” Was all Kosara could say when a huge mass of compacted snow hit her square on the chest, nearly causing her to fall back. She rubbed her chest a bit, blinked and glared at the biggest woman in the group. Of all things to do...” This… means… WAR!” She proclaimed and the snowball fight was on. Well a snowball fight was what it was at the start as at some point, the excitement got a bit too much and it descended into an outright snow brawl. Masses of snow were thrown, people were wrestled down. Kosara’s excitement getting her a bit too emotional and her barbarian rage was showing once they started to throw each other around and wrestle in the snow like a pair of over energetic kitties playing around.

Needless to say there wasn’t much in the general vicinity that was left spared in their wake between the snowballs and the proper unarmed battle afterwards. There wasn’t much to be said about it really, except maybe the fact that they were lucky the area was marked for clearing or something if Kosara would have been able to recall Cecily’s words at this point of time. As things stood, Kosara was a bit too happy as she was laying down on the snow next to the bigger woman where the two of them had ended their snow fight in some semblance of a tie… probably. Honestly Kosara had no idea if they were even fighting for a win, it was just too fun to play in the snow even if they got a bit too physical about it at some point. A good way to let out stress and energy! She was happy, breathing heavily as she laid on her back and was trying to make snow angels in the snow by moving her somewhat tired limbs around.

“Thank you!” Kosara grinned like a loon as the bigger woman loomed over her and helped her get up from the pile of snow. The tiefling took her hand and off they were on their merry way back to the couch house at least until the tiefling had an idea. It was a double idea really, one that she had considered seeing how tense Kathryn was in general and her own desire to get a bit touchy feely.” Hey, Kathryn, do you want a massage? I’m pretty good at it and a good massage removes a lot of stress and feels great!” Kosara offered with innocent smile, still grinning from how happy she was overall after their play date in the snow.” I only want you to carry me back to the couch house on a piggyback ride!” She added grinning. Somehow the usually reserved and suspicious Kathryn agreed, which caused the pale tiefling to practically beam in happiness when she hopped on Kathryn’s back and the two of them were off. All she specified was that she wasn’t going to drink cursed undead brandy that may or may not be from rotting cursed undead grapes.

Having Kathryn carry her back was certainly an experience that Kosara enjoyed a damn lot! The way the woman sprinted back at full speed made the tiefling giggle make happy screams. As the old saying went: gotta go fast. Or something like that anyways.

Once back at the coach house, she barely registered what exactly the bigger woman said to the others because it was the simple truth, context not withstanding, but at this point we all know what Kosara’s relationship with context is. She just grinned and gave a lil wave with one hand to whomever Kathryn spoke with as she let out happy noises as the bigger woman danced up the stairs. All in all so far? Great experience would ride Kathryn again… that may or may not have come out the wrong way. Depending on context of course.

“Sure would, I need to quickly change from these clothes too...” The tiefling said in reply as she was finally put down on the second floor of their temporary home. Needless to say, Kosara herself was rather wet…. No wet was understatement. From their intense fight in the snow, Kosara was practically drenched to the bone. So while Kathryn was out to prepare, Kosara skipped merrily to the room where she she shared with the others. She picked her dry clothes which in this case was her dancing outfit as her travel outfit was what she had on in the snow. She made sure nobody was around and changed, then she lined her wet clothes near the fireplace to dry. Then she merrily skipped over to Kathryn’s room.

There was wine, she took a gulp of that, mostly to warm herself a bit.” A bed works, now lay down on your stomach and let me show you a proper massage from back home. We usually do it without clothes and using oils, but that’s not obligatory.” She explained and quickly got on the woman’s back. A massage was on and ohh boy, Kathryn needed that, Kosara realized once she felt how strung up and stressed every bit of the woman’s body was. It took actual effort to work through her back to the point Kosara’s hands had gotten tired by the end from the effort, but it was damn worth it! For the joy on Kathryn’s face and for the fact they had gotten a bigger friendship bond! That evening was a joyous occasion indeed.

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Later in time after some days had passed, they had all were settled in for a nice meal when their resident master craftsman Urmdrus had apparently finished their various requests made out of the materials of the fight. He had first came to Kosara with her collection of assorted decoration pieces for hairs, horns, arms and so on. Kosara let out a happy squeal.” These look so precious!” She exclaimed in joy, praising his craftsmanship. She was about to lunge into a hug of gratitude when his words continued and she halted midstep, looking at him with her huge white eyes open wide in surprise. She carefully placed the things in her arms on the table and gently took the whip made out of the ankheg.” Ohh… this is PERFECT!” Kosara’s happy face took on a whole other dimension as her grin got even wilder now… Maybe even a bit creepy. She moved the whip a bit, getting a feel for how it felt and let out a bit of evil cackle. She was a true adventurer now.

As a whole it was a marvelous event of gift giving. Lots of joy and happiness. If only the world could continue to pay attention and have this being the case all the time instead of evil plots, genocides and evil mastermind evils. Sadly… what was life without adversity… well it was terribly boring probably. World will do as the world did and to make the world go round there always had to be something happening. Probably for the amusement of the gods.

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The rest of the time had sadly not passed as nicely… Well it wasn’t terrible, but Kosara had found herself progressinly stressed out as time passed. Be it from her own instincts that something was weird, maybe it was paranoia, but it wasn’t paranoia if they were out to get you. What was out to get them? She had no idea, but it was out there. Or the encounter with undead that weren’t behaving like proper undead and having the decency to move about so they could put them in the ground as it was proper. She had spend a good deal of days stressing out, wandering the place, waiting for the metaphorical other shoe to drop until she just couldn’t stand it anymore. All of the relief and joy that she had gotten days ago from the snowfight was gone. So… stressed out and very easily angered Kosara, decided to… just rest.

As she she had finally spent a good deal time just resting. She didn’t venture far out of the coach house and it’s relative safety behind the walls, the soothing presence of the fireplaces. The nice people that visited from time to time and only relaxing activities. Pay in the snow in the walled yard section, lazy by the fireplaces, write in her journal, reread her old journal. Sketch some pictures of what she had experienced and dance. It wasn’t as… productive as what the others were doing, be it caring for animals, teaching Lizbeth to fight or apparently V who was helping out a healer. Kosara wasn’t going to learn anything new, she wasn’t going to master a new craft. What Kosara was going to do is come to terms with herself and realign back as she should have. With long hours of resting in safety, meditative like experiences of long silent dancers or staring into the flames… optionally by also napping, curled up near said flames.

Slowly, but certainly the stress was melting away, her nerves were soothing down until she wasn’t getting jumpy by just walking out the door and expecting the world to jump her with hidden horrors. Perhaps the biggest realization she had in that time of resting and retrospection was… death. It certainly took some thinking and introspection as she had never come close to brush with it as she did back in the fight in Avonshire. Her first proper battle… That was a life she had to consider continuing with… and consider it she did, easily deciding to move forward with it despite the dangers. Grandpa was right, she had done good back then. Helped people and helping people who couldn’t quite help themselves was worth the risk.

As a whole, the long rest, introspection and quiet peace did help her refocus and realign herself so just maybe she could continue forward without as many emotional hijinks of the negative variety. They were still out to get them, no that wasn’t paranoia, but that didn’t mean she should led the dangers control her life. By the end of it she had looked at the snowy fields out the window on the second floor and for a first time in what felt like weeks…. Kosara felt the happy desire to go play in the snowy fields.

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As time moved onward, it seemed that V was the one who had been reaching a boiling emotional point as one evening while retelling her experiences as a healer in training she apparently had an emotional outburst. Kosara hadn’t seen the other woman cry like that before. The bard had excused herself and went to get some fresh air… and just to calm down. Kosara was of the opinion to follow and make sure she would be alright, but her tall VERY GOOD friend beat her to the punch.

“That’s alright, make sure she’s fine!” Kosara called out to the warrior woman who was leaving to case after the bard. There was no need to flock V right now. The others would be there if she needed them and Kathryn was a big teddy bear and very huggable. She would calm V down. How did tiefling knew that Kathryn was a good hug? Had everybody seen the body on that woman? If she didn’t give good warm and reassuring hugs, nobody would!

Still Kosara moved near the window to listen to any suspicious sounds or calls for help. Nobody ever knew if something might happen. At first all was quiet and in the events that had just transpired the silence was raising a tension, but then out of the darkness a sound came. A sound of violin and then Kosara smiled as she hopped to sit on the window frame of the window she had opened to listen in the darkness. V was playing… The woman was damn good at it and it showed. Like Kosara needed to dance to clear her head, she supposed the woman needed to play.

So here she was, sitting on the window, listening to the distant performance, sipping a cup of warm wine with a smile on her face. Maybe, everything would be fine by the end of this chapter in their story. When the music ended naturally, she nodded, and hopped down from the window, closing it back up. She downed the rest of her wine and threw off her thicker top, revealing that she did indeed wear her dancer’s top underneath again.” Who wants to dance!?” She asked happily, pouring herself a second cup of warm wine.

Weather: Fat but airy flakes of snow descend to the already respectable accumulation of the frigid, pale stuff upon the ground. It is cold. While the winds do not currently blow with any sort of malice, the merely occasional gusts of wind begin to become more frequent. The temperature seems to drop a little more with each revisiting of the wind.

Time: Evening. The sun has fully set just now, and night has settled gently upon the whole of Avonshire.

Ambience: The disappearing of the final light of the day heralded the arrival of colder temperatures. Soft snowfall took on a more diagonal route earthward, some moments more angled than others. The previous, utter stillness of the evening was not fully banished by these turning of events, though the currents of air did add the occasional low, rushing whistle to the surroundings. The moon lay in its usual spot high above, providing a marginal amount of dim light which scattered atop the white, porcelain landscape despite enough cloud cover to provide snowfall.

The Coach House remains the warm and inviting haven for the party, as flickering orange hearthfire mixed adequately with the brighter yellows of multiple oil lamps. On the rare occasions of an exterior door finding its way open, the distracting drop of heat was merely momentary. While the Coach House was not a place of great luxury, it was perfectly capable of maintaining creature comforts for its inhabitants, so long as they weren't especially demanding. The pot of simmering water continued its quiet burbling within the kitchen, venting warm steam about which collected along the ceiling like wispy, interior clouds.

As it was an hour previously, the Coach House was fresh, tidy, and well stocked with foodstuffs and various forms of drink associated with this sort of locale.




Large ceramic jugs of cider joined the reclaimed brandy atop the bar, tapped with spigots in the manner appropriate to their distribution, courtesy of the Mistress of the Manor who, by default, was Madame Cecily L'Rose. Cecily herself was not present at the moment, seeing to her own affairs this frosty evening. Her niece, Lizbeth, remained. She was still bedecked in her chitinous green cuirass and held her matching shield, the borrowed shortsword still at her belt. She had been taking training with Kathryn zealously, to the point of near obsession. An impressionable girl learning how to be a warrior over a winter was certainly full of zeal. The rather nonchalant way that she slowly moved to appropriate the Constable's whip for her own training on a less "borrowed" basis. To her credit, she did so after Kosara had lain claim to the Ankheg whip. She did have a touch of jealousy upon seeing the craftsmanship and uniqueness that the green weapon demonstrated. "That looks so good, Mademoiselle Kosara!" she exclaimed. "I'd bet that hurts a lot." Not that a direct experience nor contest was necessary. Lizbeth was still quite the novice and she knew it.

The young lady did make herself comfortable among the adventurers within the Coach House, so long as they did not object, even willing to commit acts of light service in the way of preparing sandwiches or refilling drinks. She did take certain liberties for herself, be they limited by modesty and/or marginally keeping to her aunt's wishes; the latter being that she indulged in a healthy-sized mug of cider, but diluted it with well water. "Hey, they're going to be okay, aren't they?" inquired Lizbeth, trying to sound as grown-up as possible but honestly unsure whether she should have joined them. Etiquette in formalities was unclear as to her place with this circumstance. In the end, she didn't follow. Instead, she leaned against the bar with continued, forced nonchalance. She was training with adventurers, after all. This was what they did, right?

Meanwhile, outside of the warmth and safety of the Coach House, things were starting to take an unfortunate turn. No blizzard assailed the lands of the Rose River Vineyard, nor a flash flood from upriver. No, it was a much more visually subtle antagonist which stretched its grip across the countryside, and it arrived with unyielding presence. From sudden, unseen places, the near frantic ringing of a serviceable bell clearly rang out over the lesser din of freezing winds. It might have taken a moment or two for one to catch on that this was an alarm which was being raised, especially for those without rural and/or grape growing backgrounds. Those who popped heads out of the Coach House were greeted with what one might hope was an unusual sight for agricultural land.



Lizbeth did come from a background of winemaking and agriculture, and as such immediately plopped her mug onto the bar and ran for the door, pausing only long enough to throw her winter coverings over herself. As soon as she took in the sight of the fields nearest to the Estate House, she gave a breathless, "Gods above, we have to run," and immediately burst into a sprint in the direction of the flames.

Victoria acknowledged the compliment to her music with a slight nod and neutral expression. It was nice to hear that others liked her primary form of artistic expression, though the emotional effort that it would have taken to demonstrate her appreciation just didn't seem worth it right then. The music, the dance - it served to center her, and she did truly feel better. The weight of the last few weeks was still heavy, however. Between the illness and the accident, not to mention the usual foot traffic of a rural trade stop with an experienced "village healer" (and her new lovely, exotic helper) had kept her stressed and busy seemingly constantly, day through night. On top of this, the academic portion that her mentor insisted she complete was the exact opposite of how Victoria figured she would be learning this new skill set. She just didn't feel like investing herself in faking graciousness.

Yet in her own way, this was a compliment of her own. A social defense was taken down in front of Kathryn that she would have kept up among people with whom she was less familiar. Her voice was still melodic, still perfectly inflected where it needed to be to put across intent of her words, but Victoria spoke with a weary quality and a grim sort of frankness that sounded just as much a confession as it might a slice of storytime."Yes. 'A lot of good for these people.' Yes I did." She looked up to the tall and powerfully built woman who was offering a mug of warmed wine and took it. She inhaled the vapors and sipped it once, giving the potable an ounce of pleasant regard before continuing. "I think it's only right that you know; I am learning this for my own devices. The Medician has already threatened to murder me because of what I am, but took it back because I'm 'dedicated'. But the truth is, she's not wrong." Victoria continued to look up at Kathryn. Let judgement fall where it may, she was honestly tired in that moment of putting up pretense. "My magic is naturally starting to come together in ways that maneuver across the boundaries of life, death, and that grey area in between. I'll never be as good as a Wizard, Kathryn. I just won't. So I'm trying to learn about these concepts from a mundane point of view. In the past three weeks I have seen a lot of sick and dying bodies. Women, men, children, all afflicted indiscriminately by disease and trauma. I've performed amputations. An actual bonesaw. Or slipped a wide blade between joints like I was dismembering a chicken. I'm doing this so I can learn Surgery. Anatomy. Hells, Kat - I'm almost certain I know enough to improve the utility of an animated corpse, so long as I can work on it for a while first."

There wasn't much hope of Victoria keeping her darker thoughts inside of herself at this point, and as the proverbial cats were tumbling out of the equally proverbial bag, she just kept going. But not without the occasional pause to sip her wine. "Naturally, being a mundane Healer will have merit within any adventuring group, but the truth is I'm doing this to become a better Necromancer. And as I cannot be a truly powerful, single-purposed one, then I shall study to become a more versatile, less predictable Necromancer. I cannot tell Annick that she was correct about me, nor do I wish to quit learning from her. But midwifing alone for that woman today - if she knew, would she have let me anywhere near her baby? Would anyone?"

Victoria allowed the question to linger as if she contemplated it further, herself. In reality, she was waiting to gauge Kathryn's reaction to her admission. It was only a matter of time before the Bard could perform the classic acts of magic attributed to her Wizardly counterpart, and her non-standard supplementary abilities enhanced this. Victoria was what she was. And she half expected to brace for an attack from Kathryn, puzzled as to how she might defend herself - or ofnshe might bother to. "I appreciate your offer for help. But no, I need to push through this for myself. Fruitful study via immersion."

Something caught Victoria's eye in the distance. It looked like the start of several small fires in the distance, or one large one which was very low to the ground, from her angle. And near the Estate House. She kept speaking, but her voice trailed off as the image of what was going on became clearer. "The truth is, I'm cursed..." Then the alarm was sounded. Whatever the rest of Victoria's thought was, it would have to go unvocalized for now. Almost to contrast, her words suddenly took on a more certain quality as she said, "I'm going to see if anyone needs help down there." While Victoria did not know what was happening, she was fairly confident that the concepts of "fire" and "farmland" did not readily mix. The rest of her wine disappeared at a gulp and she took off in at a jog, violin case on her back.

Several days had passed since Jon had given Blackberry some...friendly advice to giving Old Boy some exercise. Thankfully it had only taken one early morning visit from Jon, banging on the coach house door before dawn to find BlackBerry already half dressed for another days work, to make sure the dragonborn was following his advice. The sight of BlackBerry taking Old Boy for meandering walks around the L'Rose Estate or even walking with the other stable hands and their charges through the empty fields to put Old Boy through his paces. Towards the end of the week, pair could even be seen heading out of the estate, though who lead who could easily be up for debate. BlackBerry of course followed Victoria's advice to keep away from Southmoor itself, but once she had given the all clear he had gone to run a few errands; namely buying yet another set of clothes and sending off letters. The price for sending it all had not been cheap, and anyone other than BlackBerry would have balked at the price.

But right now the warm and comfortable evening in the coach house had take a sudden turn with Victoria's outburst and retreat from the group. Even from Blackberry's spot by the fire, wrapped up in a poncho and his feet up to on another seat to enjoy the heat, felt the temperate in the room figuratively drop. He watched Kosara take point at the window to see how Lady Kathryn would go and reassure their friend. He waited, watching Kosara leaning out of the open window to something he couldn't quite hear himself. He let go of a breathe he didn't know he had been holding when Kosara hopped off the window with a smile.

"They will be quite alright. It would appear victoria has had a...ah, a bit of stressful time in Southmoor given the recent events." He turned to face Lizbeth. He put down his own mug of wine to try and wave away the girls worries. "Lady Kathryn will be able to turn Victorias frown upside down. Just you see." Blackberry pulling the sides of his mouth down and up for emphasis. "Best we do not crowd the poor thing in any case. Sometimes a kind word from one is better than from many. Oh do go on Kosara, we may as well, If you will teach me. But close that blasted window first before we catch a cold." With his worries now somewhat put to rest he felt ready to relax a bit more. "Though I will be the first to admit I am unsure of any dances. I am quite the novice."

He would follow Kosaras lead in whatever dance she could think of. But he kept his own several layers of clothing on. As they moved back and forth around the tables and chairs, a question burned in BlackBerry's mind demanding to be spoken. A few times he opened his mouth, the question clawing at his throat, but the question was for Lady Kathryn and Victoria as well, and best done without anyone else present. Banishing the question he instead asked things like "Am I doing this right?", "Which way do I move my foot?", "I put my hand here? Correct?", sometimes even humming a little tune and clapping his hand on his chest to an unheard beat. It was a fun little distraction while it lasted.

Then there was a noise under their own sounds of laughter and traipsing around the room. BlackBerry paused and, tilting his head towards the window, listened intently for it. It was a bell. It took BlackBerry a few moments listening to the bell ringing madly to understand what it was. Years of life experience took hold and in an instant wound every muscle and nerve tight. He was right on Lizbeths heels when the girl pulled the door open. His feet skidded through the snow in the courtyard when he came to a stop, snapping head this way and that, then spotting the distant flames.

"A fire?" He blinked several times several times and shielded his eyes from the fat, fluffy snowflakes trailing past. "In this weather? surely no-" Lizbeth then sped past him and out onto the path towards the fire with her winter cloak bellowing behind her. BlackBerry swore. "Lizbeth, hold on!" BlackBerry swore again. He dashed back to the coach house door and called in. "Kosara hurry. Several fires have broken out on the fields. Lizbeth has gone charging off on her own."

With that he turned again and sprinted across the courtyard and onto the path, haring after Lizbeth without even checking to see if Kosara had followed after him. He tore down the path towards the Estate House after the Lizbeth hoping to spot her either ahead of him or of the path already in the fields. With any luck he would run into either her or Lady Kathryn and Victoria. He could only hope the other two weren't in any danger.



The first letter is wrapped in a separate envelope addressed to Brother Rorvil, with the date of writing in the top right.


The second letter is addressed to Melody, also with the date of writing in the top right corner.

Kathryn was ready to be there for Victoria so she knew she wasn't alone in all of this. The woman seemed troubled, and concerned with the world around her. Offering wine and a chance to listen if the smaller woman needed it. Kathryn however didn't expect so many of Victoria's walls to break down before her eyes. The half giant woman was caught off guard, and for a moment was stunned and unsure what to do. Briefly her reaction may have showed, but taking a moment to process things Kathryn sat and leaned in. Making sure her full attention was on the bard as she spoke. Spoke of her challenges in town, with the medicine woman, with herself. Though Kathryn had taking a good sip of her boiled wine when she passed a mug off to Victoria, the moment she began speaking the mug simply sat nestled in both hands as Kat leaned in. The woman looked on the edge of collapse, yet somehow more determined than ever. Like a messenger on their way to deliver the most important letter that could ever be sent, and they knew that every step they took they were closer. That every hill they climbed was one less to pass over. That every robbery avoided was one less bandit on the road. And that damn letter would be delivered.

As Victoria let on to how few knew her real intentions of learning her new skill set, she seemed to feel horrified that no one would ever be able to see her as anything other than... well... another evil necromancer. How if the parents, or the medicine woman knew the truth, they would have never let Victoria anywhere close. When she asked if anyone would ever do such a thing Kathryn spoke up after a moment of deep thought, and a solid couple breaths to think on it. "I would." The big woman said softly. A warm reassuring smile on her face. "I'm not going to say I fully understand what you are going through. Because if I am being blunt, I don't. I don't know the ins and outs of magic, I have a crude grasp of runic magic as it is. But I understand wanting to be able to do more. Have more control in your own world." Kathryn let out a soft breath before taking a sip of her wine. "I didn't learn to fight because I wanted to help people. Hells, I didn't even learn it because I had fun with it. At least, not for the most part. I wanted to hurt people." Kathryn said in a strained and defeated tone. "And it took way too long to realize I was becoming just as bad as those who hurt me. No... worse. Someone more powerful than me hurt me, and I took it out on those weaker than me. The messed up part? I still have that craving to be stronger, more powerful, unstoppable." She was also concerned that if she was ever to get the kind of power she wanted, that she'd relapse. End just like those who wronged her again. Physically, few things could match her, let alone overpower her. If she was able to stack on even more power to that? Master the old runes, or obtain power in other ways? She'd be a terrifying force.

"I won't lie to you either. The idea of necromancy is a little unsettling to me. Your reasons for wanting to learn more physical medicine are also a little unsettling. I don't think that makes you a bad person. Weird? Maybe. But if you have a look around I think you'll find that a lot of us are weird in some way. And I am sure you have your own reasons for what you do. Just don't let those reasons corrupt the good person I know is under all of that fashion wear yeah?" She said in a teasing tone. Truth be told, Victoria always had a way of looking rather spectacular, seemingly without even trying! She was pretty sure that wasn't true. But listening to Victoria now, Kathryn couldn't help but worry Victoria may be down a path that Kathryn finds herself a little too close too from time to time. Power at all costs, no matter the consequences, no matter who got harmed in the process. No matter what it did to one's self. "If things change, and you would like help, I am spending a lot of time in my room at the moment working off your transcripts. And always looking for an excuse to take a break. Or if you need a break, the tower here has a great view, and I need a drinking buddy who won't sober me up when I least expect it." Kathryn chuckled trying to bring some lighthearted humor into things. Kathryn wasn't the best at trying to comfort people. Much of her life the only steady person to communicate with was an extremely elderly halfing man addicted to booze and whorehouses. Some of the woman he brought home were fun to chat with though.

Victoria began to speak up again, and Kathryn was instantly back into hyper focused listening mode. Kathryn's expression dropped when Victoria spoke up though. Cursed? Then the bell rang. Kathryn didn't need to know a lot about country living to know that it meant bad news. This late at night no one would ring a bell like that unless there was good reason. Looking up back towards the state house, she saw the glow. "I'll come too." Kathryn said standing up, swallowing the last of her wine, and booking it downstairs and back towards the house in a full sprint. Leaving behind the wine and mugs as she went.

“Hmm they should be and if not, well we can rush to their aid in case of need.” Kosara replied with a happy quip. Then she turned back to Berry who expressed a desire to join into dancing!” GREAT! Just repeat after me, I will do it slowly and we will do a simpler dance not one of the ones I do for performances!” She cheerfully spoke as she began showing him a variety of slow moves of southern dances. She calmly and happily guided her blue companion into the motions. Hey, she was joyful somebody joined!

There was merry to be made and had. Night was going fine… everything was just as it should have been and nothing could ruin it… that was wrong and she knew it. Many things could ruin it and sadly as if to prove said cosmic point of a man called Murphy, a man so unknown to these realms, the ringing bells of alarm were eventually heard that led to Kosara rushing outside to check what was going on with Lizbeth only to see fire.” Well that I didn’t expect.” She commented, seeing the fires stretch the way they were. Which was admittedly weird on itself.

Now Kosara might not have been an expert on the topic of the north and snow, but with her extensive research over their stay here on the snow while playing around in it, she knew two very important things. First snow was cold, which was the opposite of fire and more importantly than the first one… SNOW WAS WET! Taking these two very specific facts into account… FIRE SHOULDN’T BE SPREADING OVER SNOW LIKE THIS WITHOUT REASON!” I saw! No way these are normal! Fire and snow shouldn’t mix!” The white tiefling exclaimed, back to Berry and suddenly bailed out into the darkness moments later after grabbing her coat. She chased after the others, concerned for the situation and Lizbeth. Apparently there WAS a conspiration here after all! What was important was that she had her coat, her whip and the dagger she usually carried. Should the need arose she could also summon her pact weapon.

Chasing into the darkness she briefly considered that mayhaps they would need a bit of light that wasn’t a bunch of burning bushes or other plants? What had even caused them to catch on fire anyways, she refused to believe it happened naturally. Maybe it was a magical attack? Or was it people using torches to torch and pillage? Was this an attack of raiders of some kind? Bandits?! Maybe it was the forest Goblins!? She highly doubted this happening at night was a coincidence, with the darkness and the chaos, it was a perfect opening to an attack!

Weather: The weather outside is frightful. But the fire is so delightful. No, you're not having a stroke (probably) and I didn't copy/paste the last update (also probably, it's been a rough week). But it remains true, the weather is indeed frightful. The fire being delightful is a whole other matter. But to basics - It is frightfully cold, in comparison to even the last few days of consistent snow. What might have been, and indeed was, a picturesque winter landscape remains, with fat, quiet flakes of snow drifting downwards with only small, occasional gusts of biting wind. Just not in the direction that draws your attention.

Time: Evening. The sun is firmly set and night has fallen across the landscape.

Ambience: There is indeed fire spotting the field nearest to the Estate House, but don't let that detract from the gentle snow and illuminating moonlight across the moors of southern Avonshire. With that one, tiny detail aside, it's actually rather pleasant outside in a crystal cold sort of way. Thick snow had accumulated over the highs and lows of the Vineyard, supplied quietly by the continuing drop of picture-perfect crystaline flutters of winter precipitation. One's breath practically steams dragonlike in the cold, cold air, when it isn't taken away by the beauty and majesty of the moment.

Then you look straight ahead of you. The image, ironically, darkens.




Nearing the field, one can see that this isn't a horrifying fire out of control, at least not yet. Nor is it one single fire stretching across the landscape. Instead, this is a series of metal braziers and smaller buckets, a couple burn barrels which the laborers would use to warm themselves while working during the cold season, really anything which can be tasked to the purpose of holding a fire within it. These implements appeared to be placed with intent by a slim few number of workers - even less than the skeleton crew that the Rose River Vineyard had for the winter harvest of icewine. The overall atmosphere is tense.

Lizbeth, running ahead of the group from the Coach House, did slow to a jog as she neared the scene unfolding. Her head jerked from side to side, looking for some sense of order to it all, or at least someone she might ask. The hustle of bodies moving and general din of the occasion make it difficult to pinpoint a single voice, but the young lady's words ring with a shrillness similar to desperation, if not an amazing amount of clarity. It takes a few moments, but she is finally answered by her aunt, whose skirts are gathered up in her hands in front of her to assist in a speedier approach. The first words which were understandable to Kosara and Baronfjord as they approached came from Lizbeth. "Aunt Ceecee, this is weeks too early, isn't it?"

Cecily looked quite like she was only half put-together. That is to say, a traditional person of the upper classes would say that she was "not dressed to receive" in any appreciable manner. Another, more common person might say that she looked like she rolled out of bead and threw the first thing on which might secure her modesty before bolting out of the door. She also looked winded, not to mention touched by both smoke and frost. The Lady of the Vineyard appeared pleased to see Lizbeth, not mentioning the fact that she was still wearing that armor and carrying her new weapons at all, as more important things were happening. "The river is freezing, Lizbeth! The hard cold came early, and we haven't harvested a single grape yet!" She looked behind her niece and spotted the adventurers, trying to explain in elevated tones, "Honigblume grapes - we need them to freeze in the winter! Kills off the noble rot, makes them sweeter!" A pause for a breath, "Deep freeze will ruin them! River, running water. If the river starts to freeze, the entire crop can be lost!" The explanation was a bit stiff, but Cecily knew what she was talking about even if others didn't.

From the more distant point of view of Kathryn and Victoria as they ran down from the watchtower, more could be observed of the field. Specifically, as they got a little closer, the light which obscured those below from a broader view of the area actually assisted the Knight and Bard. They could pick out Cecily, Lizbeth, and their fellow party members meeting just to one side of the main field nearest the Estate House, and were they to move to approach, the two of them would arrive to witness the conversation at about this point.

Lizbeth reached out to help steady her aunt and took over explaining as tersely as she might and still pass on relevant information, "The river is our indicator. We try to harvest before the deep freeze gets here, but it comes early sometimes. If this happens, we have to set up fires to keep as much of the crop as we can. Otherwise our late season is lost. We have a small staff for the winter harvest, and so many of them can't work because of the sickness spreading in the villages around here. Every hour, more of our crop is lost, and this would take most of night with a full labor pool!" There appeared to be only a handful for workers, comparatively, committing to a job better suited to a full shift of them.

"Wait, you're adventurers!" declared Cecily, a twinge of desperation of her own twanging in her speech. "You all have ...I don't know, things you can do, right? Can you please help us with this? Even if I'm being foolish, we can use as many young and strong hands on this as we can!"

The approach to the field was not particularly long for Victoria, but it was illuminating, both literally and metaphorically. true, she had run off practically mid-sentence, but felt a bit better about it when she heard the heavier footfalls of Kathryn behind her. She was without her usual cadre of thralls, even if most of them were recent of origin. It might not have been fair to categorize her Raven as a thrall, persay, as the spirit-made-flesh was bound to her by ritual as opposed to manifested with Necromancy. And her Phantom Steed wasn't exactly a thrall, either, so much as a ritually invoked force of semi-real shadowstuff, formed partially from her own imagination. Victoria was a Bard. She was good at imagination. Morty, on the other hand, was most assuredly her thrall. The forces which animated the formerly living (and now potentially very tasty) swine were an arcane extension of herself, utterly loyal but ultimately temporary of animation.

But this line of thought was alien to the scene at hand. Knowing virtually nothing about agriculture, nor the growing of wine grapes particularly, all she knew was that an alarm was ringing and fires where burning where they generally, instinctively, really shouldn't be. Moreover, through the illumination of the fires and moon above, cloud cover notwithstanding, she cold detect the arrival of the rest of the group, plus Lizbeth. Logically, if she was not maniacally trying to put the fires out, then it wasn't quite the emergency she assumed it might be. And she would have the answers, being winefolk, even if she was a bit young. So her footfalls altered in direction just enough to bring her into her presence. As Victoria ran, she summoned up the mental fortitude to call upon her newest spiritual assistant. Her raven appeared beside her in a silent spark of necrotic energy, already to wing and flying higher as seconds passed. An spoken command was sent to the creature to keep an eye out in their periphery, hopefully to let her know if anything or anyone unexpected might come upon them in the gloom outside of the firelight.

When she arrived, Victoria listened to the explanation and filled in as best she could from context. They wanted the fires. And Cecily wanted them to do the things that adventurers stereotypically might for the betterment of their crop. It wasn't the worst thing that she had been asked to handle. However, she has no idea how her magic, somewhat specialized as it was, would be of help here past the odd parlor trick. If nothing else, magic aside, she was an excellent lifter of morale. The power of her voice in the most mundane but talented of application could work wonders with one's resolve. Never underestimate the ability of a Bard to motivate. Beneath the fancy hat and death-oriented spellwork, Victoria was a Bard at her very core.

However, Victoria was also tired. A full day and more of work, from sunup to nearly sundown, her emotional outburst, light hike to the watchtower and centering performance there had left very little time to rest, and from what she was hearing this was going to be an all-night affair. She would really rather be someplace warm right now with a cup of something warming and lightly spiced. Victoria was not known for her prowess with manual labor, nor as her ability to pass as a workhorse. Nevertheless, she did not immediately leave the L'Roses and staff to their own devices. With a sigh, and subtle corrections to her expression to suppress any lingering exhaustion or emotion from her features, she adjusted her voice to be heard over the movement of the workers in their vicinity and stated, "I know not what special service I may provide, but I am open to direction until I can think of one."