[center]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/center][center][img]https://i.ibb.co/jzy5WcF/Fire-vineyard-start.jpg[/img][/center]
[center][img]https://i.ibb.co/vXD6Q0t/Update-Text.png[/img][/center][center]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/center][center][hider=Rose River Vineyard][img]https://i.ibb.co/yRk60Zg/Vinyard-Estate-Gridded-Day-Lv4.jpg[/img][/hider][/center][center]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/center][center][hider=Coach House][img]https://i.ibb.co/5jfBrYW/Coach-House-Opener.jpg[/img][/hider][/center][center]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/center]	

	[u]Weather[/u]: The snow has, for the time being, ceased, leaving an otherwise quietish landscape. The winds are barely present, meaning that whatever conditions of temperature are, for the present, static. Lucky for you, these conditions are cold, as if the air itself was still, intangible ice, ready to crack and splinter as the barest tap. 
  
	[u]Time[/u]: Nighttime. And as we all know, the nighttime is the right time. 

	[u]Ambience[/u]: The stillness of the evening is severely marred by the action cascading upon the grounds of the Rose River Vineyard. Bodies, too few of them, move from place to place as their livelihood for the season depended on it. Thick snow remains, even around the braziers and buckets between the rows of grape vines, though it is retreating slightly. Speaking of which, many small, controlled fires have already been lain equidistant in hopes of maintaining a merely frigid environment, as opposed to a catastrophic one.   

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

	It is understandable for the adventurers to not quite comprehend the nature of what needed to be done. Even among agricultural folk, this sort of practice goes against most established norms, but grapes were a unique growing experience that had, like many things, their own set of rules. This particular rule invoked the vintner's need to maintain a balance of conditions and the ability to adapt quickly, which unfortunately was made difficult by the diminished staff, let alone experienced hands. With this in mind, the feel of the evening is "no ideas are bad ideas", even if we know that this philosophy isn't wholly accurate.  

	And so, we have our scene. 

	Cecily and Lizbeth both remained in the fields, the former doing her best to direct the activities of the laborers in the dead of night, while the latter joined the labor pool dispensing what portable sources of heat they could. Flint and strikers, tinderboxes, and the like were busied toward the purposes of ignition just as fast as they got the braziers down. The going was demonstrably slow. A lack of light and fumbling commonly associated with the cold made absolutely certain of this. Despite the best people for the job applying the skills of their trade, things were not progressing optimally. 

	The query posed by Baronfjord concerning the lack of workers was taken seriously by Cecily, who had been giving this no small amount of consideration, herself. [color=darkgray][i]"I truly do not know. A lot our usual workers are sick. There might be others on their way, but we won't know until they get here. I don't suppose we might beg, borrow, or steal people in the dead of night from the villages around Southmoor - but there isn't enough time to raise a labor pool from the Township and get back here in time. Not in time for it to matter, anyway."[/i][/color] She looked to the edge of the field, hoping to see the first of the carts returning with braziers, only to give an impatient sigh when nothing was forthcoming in the darkness outside of the reach of the meager firelight. [color=darkgray][i]"We've worked too hard to lose this crop [b]now[/b]."[/i][/color]

	Delays above and beyond that which was already delayed made matters more hectic. The disappearance of Kathryn for the sake of speeding up the process of getting their equipment to them was noted, as was the sudden absence of Victoria, also hopefully to lend aid to the ordeal in front of them. It was an unpleasant mixture of hope and worry - one assumes that the adventurers had left to gather resources, but the default Madame of the Estate and the younger Heiress Apparent might have felt better with all hands available on site. Still, all they could do was wait and work with what they had, little though it was.   

	Ever attempting to manage the emergency, Cecily took Kosara's words into her planning as best she could, considering that her knowledge of spellcraft seemed to stop and start with how to spell the word "magic". She gave a quick look in the Tiefling's direction and proclaimed, [color=darkgray][i]"Yes, well... Okay. Forgive me; I don't know what that means. I can see that you're very well lit, which I am sure will be of help to anyone around you tonight. I hope it helps your [i]unseen servants[/i], too. If it means more hands, then please have them offload the braziers in the same pattern as the others, if they ever get here."[/i][/color] The last bit came with a scrap more of impatience. 

	As the hour progressed, the first of the wagons Kathryn was loading up began to arrive. There was a delay, true, brought about by the difficult terrain of snow as well as the tall lady getting a touch lost in the process, but just as soon as the vineyard's carts reached the proper storage shed (and the workers got over the fearful novelty of an actual giant loading them up) they were on their way back to the unfolding emergency in mostly quick order. 

	Shortly after this, Victoria arrived in the driver's set of their covered, mule-drawn army wagon. Next to her, jerkily navigating the uneven, frozen ground was her burlap-wrapped companion, pulling the Bard's now emptied errand cart. The cart itself would not haul any great loads, but it might help between the rows as suggested by their Monk associate earlier. The timing of her arrival coincided very near to the arrival of the vineyard's hauling vehicles, implying that the lady had her own delays. Hopefully, the presence of the tireless, not-quite-dead Morty and their more maneuverable, much smaller cart would help make up some of this time. 

	Lizbeth, for anyone giving her notice, had grown quiet, apparently immersing herself in the work of setting up what equipment they had alongside their present workers and getting fires going. Many carried their own sources of fire, in the form of torches, tinderboxes, or the like; each getting this initial field lit up as best they could. Lizbeth seemed to take to it with remarkable speed, spending no more than a couple seconds at each brazier/bucket before a decent blaze was going. Cecily pulled her own weight as well. Yes, she was the lady who handed out salaries and signed papers now, but her familiarity with the task at hand marked her as a woman unafraid of getting her hands dirty. Temperance and stubbornness had replaced a shaving of the vigor she might have had a decade prior; to her credit, she maintained herself respectably. When the carts carrying more braziers arrived, she exhaled her relief and called to anyone in her vicinity, [color=darkgray][i]"Gods above, they've arrived! Let's get started in earnest! There is so much left to do!"[/i][/color]