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[h2][color=darkorchid][i][b]Victoria Belmont[/b][/i][/color][/h2][i][b][color=9932cc]Half-Elf, Bard, Level 5[/color][/b][/i]
[color=9932cc][i][b]HP:[/b][/i][/color] 33 / 33	[color=9932cc][i][b]Armor Class:[/b][/i][/color] 16	[color=9932cc][i][b]Conditions:[/b][/i][/color] [i][color=red]Exhaustion[/color][/i] (1)
[color=9932cc][i][b]Location:[/b][/i][/color] Rose River Vineyard (Fields Near Estate House)
[color=9932cc][i][b]Action:[/b][/i][/color] [i]Casting a Spell[/i] (Prestidigitation)
[color=9932cc][i][b]Bonus Action:[/b][/i][/color]  [color=dimgray][i]Familiar[/i][/color] stuff, [color=black][b]Morty[/b][/color]
[color=9932cc][i][b]Reaction:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
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[right][img]https://i.ibb.co/k55RrWV/Victoria-Alt-4-2.png[/img][/right]
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	It seemed endless. Logically, there had to be an end, like the so-called "bottomless pits" that Victoria had sang stories about. Magic notwithstanding, every hole stopped someplace. And if this task out in frigid fields of frozen grapes in the middle of the night kept up for too much longer, she was going to be convinced that magic [i]was[/i] involved here. That, or her personal failings came back to haunt her and her soul was claimed by one or another devil, meaning that this was her Hell and it wasn't going to end, period. What cunning devils they must be, to lock her into a situation where she would willingly work herself past exhaustion for the sake of other people. Truly devious. 

	On the one hand, Victoria didn't think that Hell would provide her with warming, Dwarven style mushroom tea. On the other hand, their Dragonborn [i]was[/i] singing. So she wasn't convinced one way or the other yet. All she could do was keep up the numbing, repetitive tasks before her. Gather the braziers, set them, light them ablaze. Victoria used [i]Prestidigitation[/i] a lot for this, as it was faster and more reliable than a flint and striker; likewise required no coaxing to get a blaze going. Also, a lot less encumbering than a lit torch. With her Morty delivering the necessary equipment to her on the regular, she was confidently, if not comfortably, making excellent progress. 

	The others seemed to be doing well, more or less, in their own ways. This was good. It they weren't in some devil-wrought afterlife, that meant that they would get done sooner than expected with their less than full staff of workers. At least they were making a difference, which meant that their efforts were not meaningless. Victoria's decision [i]not to[/i] return to the Coach House for late night tea and a night of sleep, like she would have preferred to do, was objectively the correct one. They were able to affect the situation in a tangible way. If it wasn't this way, she reasoned, then there wouldn't have really been a point to it all. But even this realization was made quite moot when reinforcements arrived. 

	Victoria's Raven flapped into view just inside of the limits of the braziers' dim light, coming to perch near to one of the fires. Apparently, spirits-made-flesh could get cold and had preferences of comfort. Not that Victoria blamed the gallant black bird as she would rather be elsewhere, herself. She was also cold. She was also tired. But she was smart enough to realize that her Familiar's presence meant that the message was delivered. Curiously, there was a message attached to its leg addressed to her, stating, 

	[color=darkgray][i][b]"I never said you were my favorite. The raven will return when we are on our way. I have work I cannot leave. Sending Annabelle to find others."[/b][/i][/color]

	Sure enough, they did arrive.

	It seemed another eternity later that the job was done, or done enough for the evening. There would obviously have to be upkeep, but it was probable that the existing staff would be able to handle that now that the brunt of the work was done. But that last part really mattered to the Bard - [i]the work was done[/i]. Victoria was beyond tired, cold to the bone, and thoroughly done with everything involving these fields or even remaining awake. Morale, such as it was with her, was not exactly brimming. After politely bidding the extra workers a good morning (as it was just about to be morning) and offering her sincere thanks, she waited until they were well underway to share, [color=9932cc]"I am glad that we were able to accomplish this - proud of us all, even. We did good work for great people, and I thank the L'Roses for the opportunity to do just that. But if it pleases my hosts and associates? I would prefer to eat something hot and sleep for the next three or so days. Unless there is something more pressing that demands my attention - Messieurs, Mademoiselles, I will take my leave of you. Come along, Morty."[/color] The last part was not necessary, but served to provide a sense of finality. And in truth, she really did hope there wasn't anything remaining to handle. It had been a long day, a long night, and she was clearly, plainly tired. Victoria gave a glance in the direction of the barely rising sun, musing, [color=9932cc]"Hmm. It is already tomorrow."[/color]