BlackBerry had to admit that Kosara raised an interesting point on their way back to the Coach House with their Guests no doubt enjoying scenery from the back of the wagon.

"Do you suppose, Kosara, that given the timing of us finding those in the Distillery and our Guests arriving that perhaps the two are related?" Walking alongside Old Boy, BlackBerry followed the road and the thought. "We now have two appearances of undead, not counting dear Morty of course, and you know what they say; 'Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Thrice is a problem.' Now then. If you do not mind, I shall leave our Guests in your caring hands you two while I put Old Boy to bed and then make us all a hot drink if Victoria and Lizbeth have not done so already."

After positioning the cart close to the empty workers rooms for the two woman BlackBerry then unlatched Old Boy from the wagon. The mule didn't need any encouragement back to his stable where the very instant BlackBerry had removed his equipment Old Boy gathered some hay beneath himself and lay down for a well earned rest.

"We have returned. Oh, Good morning again Young Lizbeth." BlackBerry announced through a yawn as he came into the Coach House. "Lady Kathryn and Kosra are seeing to our Guests. Let me get the fire going again and we can finish off the last of the marvellous drink from fast night."

BlackBerry beelined for the hearth at the end of the room and got to work clearing away the ash from the surviving smouldering embers, and make room for new material. Yes, he mused, we shall have a roaring fire again in no time and hot cider to warm us all. Lady Kathryn dashing through only to help herself to another helping of the 'Reclaimed Brandy' promptly earned a sour look. Gods knew what her or Victoria were thinking drinking that stuff.

It was when he was plucking fresh tinder and wood from the pile that his attention turned (without his permission as eavesdropping was rude) to the conversation going on behind him. He turned and his eyes locked onto Lizbeth. Colour drained from his face. He knew that language. He knew the words she was saying. Where Victoria stumbled over the guttural sounds and twists of the throat, Lizbeth would repeat, correct, carefully moulding the sounds into words and then repeated in the common tongue.

How?

"Lizbeth." BlackBerry's voice crawled along the floor. "How do yo-" A muted shattering noise from somewhere outside cut him off, and replaced tension with bafflement. He went to stick his head out the door to see what all the fuss was about. "Nothing to worry about. Lady Kathryn and Kosara appear to have everything under control."

The door clicked shut. Turning towards Victoria and Lizbeth he held a finger to his lips. "Now, where were we?" In the ensuing silence he recaptured the thought. "'Al Hazred'" The word tumbled in his mouth with unfamiliarity. "'Al Hazred'. Yes, I do believe I read about in a book concerning the Necromantic Wars; a place somewhere to the south, a desert perhaps? The clothing our Guests are wearing does put one in mind of Kosaras own. With any luck the name might mean something to her."

He now stood at the table with Victoria and Lizbeth, His eyes fell upon the letter, and the written fruits of their labour. He picked up the Letter that their Guests had handed to them and, now that he knew what he was looking at, suddenly felt very foolish indeed. Perhaps he was simply that tired to have missed the clues, or perhaps he had not wanted to see them?

He folded the letter with a heavy sigh and placed it back on the table. "I see you both have been busy as well. Yet more pieces of this very strange puzzle. Lizbeth." Looking down at the girl, BlackBerry felt as if he were about to step onto very, very thin ice. "May I ask, and I will accept if you do not wish to answer, but how is it that you know Abyssal?"

The translations began as a massively confusing undertaking. Unlike Victoria's immediately successful attempts every other time she used this ritual, the results were initially meaningless. After assistance from Lizbeth, progress was made. It was faster than anyone going into the Abyssal language blind, but still seemed a ponderous process to her. Moreover, she didn't understand why the spell didn't just give her the literal meaning of the words presented, regardless of what language was being communicated in whatever script. It was a stroke of luck that Lizbeth had returned here instead of going back to the Estate House. Hopefully, her confusion and difficulty with the spell was just because she was tired. And she was tired, make no mistake.

Fatigue notwithstanding, things kept escalating. In terms of pressing interest, anyway. The fast pace and long hours in the cold were (hopefully) over, and with it the hot, coursing blood of one committing to action. As a result, Victoria's stamina was ebbing away. Already her eyelids felt heavy and the strength in her limbs, a thing for which she was not especially known, waned considerably. She also felt a touch absent-minded, having focused on the message to the exclusion of everything else, including the creature comforts the voiced earlier, or even building up the hearth fire. Now that she was done, it occurred to her that she was still cold. The pashmina she had acquired for herself was still over her head, covering her slightly elongated, pointy ears which were still far from the level of warmth she desired. But that was a failing of hers, taking to things which interested her almost obsessively to the exclusion of a generally wiser course of action.

After it was finally done, she reviewed it as written in translated Common. "Whomever penned this certainly has a high opinion of themself." In hindsight, the fact that the pashmina she had draped over herself for additional warmth was not specifically stolen goods (even if she meant it to be lightly insulting as an aside) gave her a grain of relief. Then Victoria began to wonder what else might be present. If the original writer of this message was going to flaunt their wealth by doling out shiny things as an opening salvo for some negotiation to make themselves feel powerful, then she wasn't going to be so prideful as to refuse. Especially with its lack of reciprocity necessary in writing. Curiosity then befell the young Half-Elf; she began to wonder what else might be upon their well-dressed emissaries.

Then she looked again at the words written plainly in the Common language of the realm, especially what she expected was the signature. Her spell, Comprehend Languages, was still active - meaning that she was able to understand the literal meaning of the words on the page. Farid al Ramil Sabaj al Hazred, or to hear her speak it aloud, "Unique One of the Forbidden Obsidian Sands." It was actually a little comical. "It's a male name. There's no title, either. I should think someone of this obvious self-importance would have left an honorific of some kind. Just to leave an impression, I would have." She mused, "Farid. I wonder if Kosara knows anything. This is outside of my experience, I am afraid." She spoke to Lizbeth in a calming voice, as best she might in that moment. The kid didn't seem to be in the best of morale. "Maybe we should find and ask her?"

Baronfjord's entrance, and the shattering sound muffled by the walls, got Victoria's attention. Though she was most satisfied with the Monk stoking up the fire. It even gave her an idea. "I shall get out my set and make some tea for us all. That sounds like exactly what we need right now. That and some rest." The last part might have been true, but it was easier said than done in that moment. "Though I am curious, myself, where did you pick up Abyssal?" This inquiry made to follow up Baronfjord's, to also repeat her astonished question from earlier, when they began translating the letter. It was very curious indeed that a girl from a rural province whose locals mainly spoke the Common trade language (Modern Human, for their enduring credit) and Halfling, could speak a generally frowned-upon and difficult tongue to master. Where could she have possibly learned it out here?

How long were the creepy dead people standing still in the ice and snow? Way too damn long. Kathryn was exhausted, mildly buzzed, and cold as hell frozen over. And several of the dead dudes who she loaded up into the wagon, were frozen to the ground. At one point a shoe almost coming off, leaving Kat in a weird position of does she touch the dead mans shoe to put it back on? Or does she leave the half removed shoe to eventually fall? Opting to not lose the shoe she pushed it back on, and hoped that what she heard wasn't the sound of something cracking and breaking. What she could feel through the clothes made her rather uncomfortable too. Despite someone who was really, really good at killing people, she had a weird aversion to dead bodies. The cracking and and other noises that came from the wagon as old boy pulled them made Kathryn want to puke. Again, despite her doing much and worse to foes she fought, the idea of a corpse making so much noise and being messed with so much really bugged her. Thankfully loading them back up wasn't too much trouble. Barricaded into the workers quarters if they turned hostile, they would get a short heads up. So they had that going for them.

On the plus side, Kosara seemed to be hanging in there alright. "Well, they can be unsettling in that glorified closet of a bedroom. Until we know what is going on with them we should leave them be and " When the shattering crack, or boom, came from the now barricaded room, Kathryn sighed. She was really hoping that they would have more answers before things turned sour. With BB now inside, it was up to Kosara and Kathryn to handle things. SO handle she did. "I didn't see anything." Kathryn said matter of factly as she began to dismantle the barricade. Pulling the silvered knife from her boot Kathryn put one hand on the lever that opened the door, and turned to Kosara. "If they fight back, I will force the first one back into the others, see if I can get them to stumble up and create confusion. Then we hit them with whatever we can quick and fast. Then back the hell out. If they are getting feisty, they may want to come out. After the first push we let them and pick them off where I have room to fight them, and you will have a better line of sight. Alright? And make sure you stand back for the first bit. If they want out, they may try something similar to push me." Not that she thought any of them were strong enough, but they were dead, so their rules were different. Dagger drawn, Kathryn opened the door and prepared to shoulder check the first fucker who could be in the room, with a dagger in hand.

When the half giant met no resistance, she had almost fallen over. Not from losing balance, she was careful and wanted to keep her options open. But she tripped. She almost tripped on... Glass? Bones? "What the fuck nugget..." Kathryn mumbled confused. She supposed this could be a trap to counter her actions she just took, but this seemed so... wrong. Looking about the room at the jagged remains of their guests, their clothes, and the distinct lack of... well guests that seem to remain. Kathryn just seemed more confused than anything. Before backing out of the door way, dagger in hand, though not presently in a fighting grip. Just holding it in one hand to carry it. "They... exploded. They exploded Kosara." Kathryn said as if she were still trying to process this herself.

Weather: Temperatures rise a little in the presence of the now full sun. It is still below freezing, but more tolerably with appropriate clothing. The breeze has slowed considerably but is now near constant. It is still quite cold. The cloud cover seems to be increasing with the new day.

Time: Morning, bright and quiet.

Ambience: The sun streams down over a near idyllic series of rolling hills inscribed with the meandering lines of grave vine supports. There is a quiet cold that sweeps over everything, doubly so as the staff remained indoors - partly because of the hour, but greatly influenced by the hard night which had just passed. Cut paths of footfalls mar the smooth snowfall in the most trafficked places in and around the fields nearest the Estate House, which still bear the glowing braziers keeping the remaining Honigblume varietals from dying off in the midst of the sudden temperature plummet. The river's usual hum in the distance, ordinarily barely audible in the quietest times of the day, is as still as it was an hour ago, covered with a questionable layer of glassy ice.



Inside of the Coach House, it has gotten a bit warmer. While it was nice to be out of the wind, the place didn't quite get to a much more appreciable level of comfort until Baronfjord stoked the fireplace in the main taproom. A few minutes past this and the place became downright comfortable.

Lizbeth stared at Baronfjord and Victoria for a moment, seemingly unwilling to answer the question put forth from the both of them. Her face turned away from their peering eyes and onto the papers on the table, one original, one inscribed with phonetic Abyssal, and one translated into readable, nuanced Common. The girl's voice repeated the syllables from the second one, occasionally making a correction of pronunciation as she went along as her voice was a little shaky. But as she continued, her words became more confidently fluid. Those capable of understanding Abyssal will hear a young girl, not quite an adult, with pretty, flowing hair and a cuirass made of ankheg chitin wrap her linguistic abilities around a tongue extraordinarily difficult to speak by someone with humanoid anatomy. Where certain vocal impossibilities crept up, she effortlessly utilized the accepted mortal analog, demonstrating the proficiency of a natural speaker in a Human body.

Her language then slipped into the more accepted language of the Prime Material Plane, "Farid al Ramil Sabaj al Hazred." After she spoke aloud the name of the original note's author, she looked back up at the two of them, and answered in a quiet voice, "I don't know." Looking back down at the pages upon the table, in the same quiet voice, "Do you mind if I stay here for a while, please? I don't ... I'm not feeling very well right now." Lizbeth absently slumped down into the chair nearest her at the table.



Splintered masses of rock-solid, corpse-based ice were all that remained of the five figured placed unceremoniously within the servants' quarters of the Coach House. Where the desiccated remains of the figures were exposed from beneath the voluminous layers of fine textiles, these tiny shards of dead people spilled out and clinked to the stone floor like glass scattering beneath a thick, recently broken window. Oddly, they still had physical cohesion of a sort, as if something were holding them more or less together beneath their noble wrappings. Also curiously, there wasn't a drop of liquid nor scent of death upon them. The completely frozen state of these "diplomats", coupled with the low temperatures of the air and unheated accommodations worked wonders for this, barring a less mundane explanation.

Aside from the occasional tinkling sound of frozen shards slipping to the ground, the room remained deathly quiet. Outside, the near constant wind continued. Luckily, the walls of the Coach House's courtyard helped to remove some of the edge to those winds, but one's breath still condensed like a draconic fog upon exhalation. It was cold, and looked to be for some time.

Kosara did in fact NOT find a window to peek inside the room they had put the probably undead in. Magic thought them undead, but they weren’t all living hungry either so it was weird. In any case after a quick walk around the room and no openings found she walked back to Kathryn while the woman was opening the door again.” Sure will!” She replied and hopped a few steps backwards, her scimitar appearing in her arm in a flash of golden motes of light so she wasn’t going to be unarmed. Not that she was going to use much melee most of the time. Kosara was very much a Celestial Blast kind of warlock when she could get away with it…

She waited patiently until the door was opened and Kathryn poked her head inside. Hearing the exclamation, Kosara let her weapon vanish in a similar scatter of golden motes as she sneakily walked over to the huge woman.” Oh?” She made a questioning sound and squeezed her way next to the warrior to look into the room and the remains of the remains of the occupants.” Ohhhhh! Yeah, they exploded alright!” She agreed with a theatrical nod.” Never seen a body explode? Well… me neither like this I guess, but I’ve seen other things and I’ve heard stranger tales from traveling adventurers growing up. Well they more like simply shattered rather than exploded… I don’t see scorch marks.” Kosara finally commented and moved a bit further in, looking at the weirdly still kind of coherent? Like something was keeping most of the chunks loosely together.

“I’m pretty certain they shouldn’t have just shattered like glass. Its not cause of the frost, they should have otherwise exploded while we were transporting them around or unloading them, not when we closed the door.” The tiefling stated with certainty.” There’s magic at work, but honestly I have no idea what exactly...” The white haired woman commented and looked around with narrowed eyes.” Alright, we cannot leave them like this here. Kathryn, grab a big barrel or two, some brooms and a spade! They are more portable this way! Then I can just set the barrel aflame in the yard and problem will be solved!”

BlackBerry sat at the table and with a strange sense of not-quite-deja-vu. He watched and listened to Lizbeth as she went over the letter again in Abyssal with the dawning realization that he had been in nearly exactly the same position that Lizbeth was now in; a young child with knowledge they shouldn't have and without a clue as to how.

Lizbeth said she didn't know how she knew Abyssal, and BlackBerry believed her.

The initial shock had now worn off and he was able to keep his face locked into one of mild but calm concern. His leg bouncing frantically betrayed him however, and his thoughts scrambled in his skull trying to slot this new piece of a puzzle into place while at the same time trying to work out how to calm Lizbeth down. Bravely she was trying to keep a brave face but BlackBerry could see the gaping holes in her mask. She was scared.

"Well. Well that is quite alright, Lizbeth." He kept his voice low, quiet, as soft as he could. He pulled the offending pages across the table towards him. Folding both the offending pages together and held them up. "In Any case we shall get to the bottom of this."

Pinched between his fingers the offending letters hung in the air. He hoped he could inspire at least some comfort in the poor girl. But the first instant he got BlackBerry planned to question Madame L'Rose about the sort of man her father-in-law had been. Something rotten was going on around here and BlackBerry was going to get to the bottom of it, one way or another.

"If I may try to lessen at least one worry, Lizbeth. I have been in almost the very same position that you find yourself; knowing a language you have no knowledge of ever having gained." BlackBerry paused for a moment to chew his cheek wondering if this was really the right thing to do. He plunged forward and in the Abyssal tongue spoke. "I also haven't a clue why I can speak Abyssal. I simply remember waking up one day and found the words sitting on my tongue. Y'know I was so scared that I just stopped talking. For years I didn't say a single word. Practically mute, some even thought I was deaf."

BlackBerry leant across the table and in a stage whisper behind his hand, trying to make light of the situation, asked in the common tongue, "Can you perhaps guess then, what happened when people found out?" He waited a beat for Lizbeth to wonder or answer, before he gave a shrug and leant back in his chair. "Nothing. Admittedly they were shocked, of course, who would not be? But in the end it made no difference to those who knew me that I could speak such a language."

This was not, of course, the whole truth and BlackBerry hoped that Lizbeth would not see through his half lie. BlackBerry could no longer remember what it was he as a young child had been found reading, whether it was a scrap of parchment or a bound tome he had stumbled upon, but he remembered the shock and fear that had rippled through the Monastery. While Brother Rorvil and several others had come around to the fact without a second thought, it had taken the rest much longer. It had been a lonely period for BlackBerry. Even now, an old rumour that he had survived that storm by a devils kiss would occasionally resurface.

But Lizbeth didn't need to know that. If BlackBerry could take away or soften the blow of even one of the many questions and fears that accursed letter had dumped upon the poor girl, then the lie was worth it.

"But onto more important matters." The letters disappeared under his poncho as a smile appeared on his face. BlackBerry put some faith into the old saying 'out of sight, out of mind'. Slapping the table enthusiastically he did decree, "Tea! A marvellous idea indeed Victoria. I for one could do with something warm before some shut eye. We are all simply exhausted and no good ever comes from making rash decisions especially after a night of hard work and no sleep. Actually, now that I think about it I do believe I may have some biscuits stashed away somewhere to go with. I may not look it but I can make a marvellous spread of treats myself. We can fill in the other two on what we have uncovered about this 'Farndip el famal cabbage al hazard', once they get back in from...whatever it is they are doing."

BlackBerry stood up and headed towards the kitchen to find the promised treats. A second after entering the kitchen, his head then reappeared around the door frame.

"And Lizbeth. You are of course more than welcome to sit and rest here for a while. Either myself, or perhaps even Kosara or Victoria can walk you back once you are ready."

Kathryn prepared herself for a combat situation. A situation which she was most skilled. As she gained experienced her training and strength would soon make her unmatched against any other humanoid. A force to be reckoned with. So opening the door to find out that this problem was not one to be settled with blades and fists, but brooms and dustpans, Kathryn was a little disappointed. She had never done well with traditionally woman's chores. She couldn't clean that well, she was barely passable with a broom, and the only dishes she ever learned how to clean were camping supplies. Its not to say that she was useless, or that she thought herself above such work. But it was work she was ill suited for, and it was work that she rather didn't enjoy. Fighting was fun, clean up? Less so. Growing up kitchen work was sort of fun, but she also had a crush on one of the serving girls in her parents kitchen. Before she really understood why she had feelings for a woman she only spoke too a few times. Kathryn figured she had a stronger attraction to woman then men, but not an exclusive attraction. But also, Daisy gave her cookies. A lot. And for a woman who focused more on her work than on her ability to be beautiful, she was rather attractive. But, she was 9, and she learned later that Daisy was in fact, married. Probably best considering that her father rather harshly exclaimed that she was not only forbidden from marrying a commoner, but needed to marry someone who could give her an heir someday. And, she was way too young to be attempting to find spouses.

All of this did not change the fact that Kathryn loathed the kind of work that didn't come from camping, and from fighting. "yeah we're definitely gonna need a spade and a broom." Kathryn said as she dragged a barrel over, grabbing a shovel from behind it. "I've seen whole bodies explode a couple times before. But it required a lot of force... from a man far larger, stronger, and a lot more violent than myself." Albeit, Kathryn was rather violent herself when fighting. But her uncle was something... more. The assassins who had come for her while she pleaded her case? One had been... exploded. Had been lifted by his leg, and slapped against a stone tower with enough force that all that was left was his leg. The other was probably not an assassin, but someone who decided he wanted a ton of praise from his lords. When Kathryn's case had gone sour, and things were clearly turning against her, a band of soldiers without their marked crests had stopped her and her uncle. Harsh words were spoken, and the officer clearly intended to capture Kathryn and her uncle. That officer who was leading this band of soldiers with hidden allegiances drew his weapon, and clearly intended for his men to do the same. Kathryn's uncle made an example of the man by growing to his full height, and pulling the officer in half with his bare hands. The others backed off after that, but it became another hurdle to work over while Kathryn pleaded her case. A battle that at the age of 10 she stood no real chance of winning. "But that explosion, was nothing like this. They were stiff when we loaded them, but not... not like glass. Like... well... corpses." Kathryn said puzzled as she set up the barrel to be filled with undead people bits.

As Kathryn began to sweep poorly, and shovel marginally better the bits of undead people pieces, she turned to Kosara to speak up. "I suppose if you really want some of this clothing you should grab it before it fills the barrel with the... the bits." Kathryn said rather uncomfortable. She really didn't like the idea of taking clothes off the dead. Even less so since these corpses seemed rather cursed. Sure, the clothes were nice, sure, maaaaaaybe she could try and fashion a half decent dress that could fit her and look nice. Hell, with the right pins, knots, and pieces, she could make a rather attractive dress that could compliment her figure rather well. But corpse clothes, silk wasn't very protective, she had little understanding of fabrics and how to use them, and she worried that she may come across as rather indecent should she begin wearing clothes like that around the lands. Plus, there were no special events here going on that would warrant such apparel. And there was no one here she was trying to woo over.

Should Kosara dig through the bits of... bits. Kathryn would let her. But she wanted to get this job done asap before her legs failed her. She wanted nothing more than to drink, sit down, and pretend everything would be okay from here. And maybe devour some tasty food... breaded chicken? A real sandwich? Steak? Gods she would kill for some steaks and mashed potatoes. Or even some good tomato soup for something easy and warm to down. A nice cheese sandwich to go with it... FOCUS! Whatever Kosara didn't pick out, Kathryn had shoveled into a barrel and dragged it into the yard. "Kosara, when you're ready, we got a barrel of dead people chunks to burn." Kathryn sang songed. And wondered for a brief moment if the exhaustion was starting to wear on her sanity as they prepared the bonfire of corpse dust. "I wonder if they froze and exploded because they weren't outside or in sunlight anymore.... seemed weird though... why explode into pieces now..." Kathryn pondered looking at the barrel.

The majority of Victoria's goods were still in the taproom, as she had hastily emptied her errand cart in preparation of the previous night's events. As a result, she could wearily trudge over to them to retrieve her newly acquired tea set. It wasn't the most glamorous of items; simple glazed ceramic with a copper bottom, the pot and cups both, but it held a quaint sort of charm that hinted questionably at humility, considering its owner. The huge pot of water was still sitting at a covered simmer in the kitchen, be it much lesser of volume now. Still, it was much more than enough to suit her needs at the moment, which was providing a simple cup of tea for those present. The nigh-exhausted Bard filled her pot, packed a slightly more than appropriate amount of tea into a copper wire infuser, and set it to steep. While she was getting these things together, she spoke to Lizbeth. "Certainly, you may stay. We are only guests, after all. After tea, if you think it's okay with your aunt, maybe you should get some rest here." She gave a glance over to Baronfjord. While in agreement that she should have some time to collect herself, Victoria did take a liberty in suggesting that she more fully recover herself before leaving. She was unsure as to what was happening outside of their walls, but the shtick about safety in numbers came to mind. And if she was a threat, keeping her away from others might be a good idea for the meantime, too.

After enough time for the tea to steep, Victoria placed a full, steaming cup in front of Lizbeth, and then another for Baronfjord. She reserved hers for a moment, first putting a dram of the very interesting brandy into the cup before bringing it high with black tea. "I have honey, if either of you would care for some." A moment's worth of consideration informed her that she did indeed want a bit for herself, just enough to give her morning cocktail a bit of rounding. She inhaled the vapors coming from the cup deeply and sighed with satisfaction. "Lovely." The first sip was worth it.

Quick mental commands had Morty set up along the wall, nearby but out of the way. She took a moment to check in with her Raven, who had flown elsewhere in the hustle and bustle of their return. It was still within range of her sensory notice, and Victoria took advantage of this to look through its eyes briefly. This gave her an interesting view of Kathryn and Kosara in the courtyard, doing ...something... with the corpses. "What in Acheron's frigid gates..?" she whispered, invoking the name of an interesting Hell alternative.


Victoria saw the shovel. And the barrel. And the goods for making a fire out of it all. And her face dropped. "All that silk," she whispered. Summoning up her familiarity with the abilities of her Raven counterpart (which she was beginning to appreciate more and more as the days passed), she understood that this telepathic and sensory connection with the bird paired excellently with its capability for Mimicry. While presenting her wishes to this spirit-made-flesh at the speed of thought from within the taproom of the Coach House, the Raven itself manifested said wished outside, near the rest of her party.

The ebon, winged, majestic creature perched above the scene outside and cawed loudly to get their attention, then croaked in a recognizable but obviously approximated version of Victoria's melodic, colorful accent, "WAIT. Don't. Burn. Yet. Please. VaLUable. Maybe. Clues. rrrSearch later. TEA INside. Hot."

Victoria stood ready to make a move outside, just in case they wanted to continue the plan to set all that valuable silk, linens, and whatever other noble-worthy articles that qualified as vintage at the very least aflame. She intoned to Lizbeth that it was probably best to stay in the taproom or kitchen for the meantime, but declined to mention that the reason involved the shattered remains of previously undead creatures outside. Smiling through a tired expression, she turned to her Dragonborn associate and inquired, "Did you mention something about biscuits? That sounds heavenly." Her smile remained as she took a sip from her teacup, eyes regarding Baronfjord and Lizbeth in even measure.

Weather: Cold. Determinedly so. Lucky for those still up and about, it is slightly less cold than it was am hour ago. Nevertheless, it is still below freezing, proper. The sky is getting just a touch more cloudy, and it looks like this may increase as the day progresses. The wind remains low in intensity but is still near to constant.

Time: Full morning. It is early yet, and the sun still hangs low in the sky.

Ambience: The area within the Coach House is buffeted against the brunt of the cold wind, though ambient temperatures remain uncomfortable to those unaccustomed to the cold, and/or are not dressed appropriately. For persons having weathered the worst of it overnight, this is somewhat milder. The light of the morning comes in readily despite the walls about the courtyard which still prevent the more directness of the grand, soft, winter sun.

This sun otherwise gave brilliance and life to the snow-gilded countryside and rows upon rows of mostly dormant grape vines. There remains an absence of people milling about the grounds, no doubt on account of the full night of labor on top of the previous day's usual undertakings. Were one close enough to the Honigblume fields, one might even hear the quiet rustle of several small fires within braziers, keeping just enough of the sudden, bitter cold away as to prevent the dormancy of those precious vines for just a while longer. From hill or rooftop, one might catch a glimpse of the river, come to apparent halt by the sudden freeze.



Lizbeth chose to keep quiet as Baronfjord spoke reassuring words to her. While silent, her face yet bore a mote of interest working its way out from the disconnected anxiety that seemed to have hold of her. She was intently listening, however. Hooked on every word, just as soon as she learned that he also spoke Abyssal, and that it came about him in a manner which was, generously put, accidental. Her expression remained as it was, but slowly her eyes brimmed with tears, unrealized until she blinked once, causing lines of hot melancholy to dampen her face. She stoically scrubbed them away with her sleeve and, when he finished his story, nodded slowly in comprehension. Lizbeth took her tea in hand and slowly sipped, uninterested in the possibility of approaching biscuits.

After a long night of indefatigable work and a scare of a visceral nature, like a window full of light suddenly shuttered, little Lizbeth L'Rose finally looked tired.



The transport of the bodies to, and/or near a burn barrel was significantly more difficult than loading them into the servants' quarters had been. It was like they had all gone as limp as ragdolls, and while they weighed no more than they did the first time around, the sensation was more than a little off-putting. Most especially because, while all this was going on, sandy shards of frozen, desiccated corpse continued to spill out where their faces and hands used to be. The bulk of their shattered and ground to fleshgravel parts made horrible grinding sounds against each other but remained within the layers of clothing as if contained with further means. It is either by merciful design of an unnamed deity or pure, sheer happenstance that it was still cold enough to prevent this from turning melting into rancid, pooling, formerly undead salad.

For those giving the five formerly diplomatic corpses an investigation, there are several fairly obvious things about them. Per suspicion, they are deathly slender, all of them, entombed within enough layers of clothing to fill a wardrobe. Varying types, representing multiple cultures present within the Southern Desert realms, the mountains thereabouts, and even types favored by visiting dignitaries. Each body was a full collection of finery, and each article was perfectly preserved, without so much as a stitch out of place. The textile work was amazing, the tailoring exact. And the styles ranged from basic coloration to true resplendent works of art. Clothing which a particularly wealthy Caliph of Shiekh might adorn favored consorts with, or with which a Sultanah would array her court's ladies. Clothing of courtiers, powerful merchants, poets, performers, formal wear for Knights in the service of an Empire, the looser clothing of Dervishes from their desert tribes and travelers seeking rich cloth to keep the scouring wind and sun at bay. The two most commonly glimpsed colors were white and black, though it seemed that everything was present; red, blue, green, turquoise, and lapis made important appearances, though the richest colors came in the form of royal, entrancing purples, enhanced, deep water blues, and fiery, mottled oranges, oft embroidered with gold, silver, and/or black. Silk, linen, and wool of a type so fine and soft as to be confused for something with a less common name dominated the materials, spun with master care and decorated by true artists.

This represented a fortune that was more than a skilled craftsman of merit and renown might make in a year, each set, easily.

Also obvious to basic inspection was the nature of why the corpses maintained the bulk of their shape, despite suddenly shattering. Each of them was wrapped expertly in an unblemished, unstained, continuous sections of textured silk, wrapped uniformly as if to intentionally maintain the structure of the person underneath it's rich layers. Pure of color and material, each were shrouded in this way with either black or white material. To unravel one would be to loose the shards of former human about the courtyard if not done with a delicate hand and some reverence. Nevertheless, these wrappings looked to the casual observer as being worth more than any other item present; the crown jewel of textiled cloth.

Of course, all of these things were over and around shattered, frozen corpses.

Within the taproom of the Coach House, Lizbeth seemed to have put aside her desire to remain quiet. She spoke with simple, near monotone words, "I think you are right, Monsieur Baronfjord. I would like someone to walk me back to the Estate House and to my Aunt. But if it is okay with you, I would like to sleep here for a while first."

“Sounded a lot like a crystal shattering if anything… I mean ice is kinda like a crystal so maybe a magic deep froze them and then shattered them?” Kosara gave out a vague suggestion to her possible solution to the puzzle they had found themselves with. That and there were so many itsy bits of bodies… well at least it was deep frozen bits so it was more like pebbles than body parts. That would have been a rather unpleasant alternative. Very gross. ” I mean, I seem to recall V doing something shatteringly loud when we were fighting the goblins and she exploded a tree and a goblin? I think…” She made a thinking sound recalling bits of that encounter and the bard’s liberal use of magic that was very effective on the tree at her memory.



“Well… not… much…” She didn’t sound completely convinced in her own words as she was making a pondering face trying to reach some unsaid metal conclusion. What it amounted to in the end was that she was starting to rummage through the bits for anything that wasn’t frozen body.



The decision making was interrupted when a certain birdly bardly companion appeared making a fascinating approximation of V’s voice that demanded them to STOP burning the stuff. Kosara just looked at the bird, at the barrel and then at Kathryn. ” I mean… I was thinking if we should see if they carry anything of note underneath the silks now that they are in pieces. Anything like coins, jewelry or other things that might signify their origin… and the silks… I suppose…” Yes Kosara was very much in favor for that plan of action. That said however through the base observation of just moving things around and trying to get them in the barrels and ruffling through the clothes carefully as to not get hurt or damage something on jagged pieces of frozen body a thing was getting obvious. Unwrapping them properly to inspect the bodies and anything they might be carrying would be messy on the courtyard… And Kosara did want to see all the sparkly things they were carrying if for none other reason but to see if they were carrying clues… and also cause she liked shiny things. Also the silks were pretty nice and V agreed they should be keeping those if possible it seemed.



“Alright… I guess we could go for tea now and deal with them later!” And with that Kosara’s focused moved to a hot drink to warm her chilly body right now. ” Maybe we should make sure they are secure even as bits before heading inside. Maybe drag them back into the room as to not let the locals see them… much?” She asked Kathryn. ” Or we check to see if the servants’ room has any blankets or coverings we could use. Maybe a tarp to cover it with? Though I suppose leaving them is also an option, but so far it seems people around here are weary of things like this, so it’s probably going to be for the best to not leave them visible like this.”

There were the sounds of rummaging through cupboards and shifting things across shelves from the kitchen before BlackBerry then proudly declared, "Ah ha! found the buggers." He shortly appeared from the kitchen proudly carrying a small plate of treats. Setting it down on the table he said, "Nothing too fanciful mind. But they are still delightful if I do say so myself."

There were a dozen or so of the simple oat biscuits, no wider than the length of ones pinkie finger, and each delightfully toped with a bit of dried fruit pressed and baked in the middle. Sat in the middle of the table alongside the cups and pot of tea the spread looked quite homely.

Reclaiming his seat, BlackBerry took a healthy spoonful of honey to have with his tea, thanking Victoria and then took a sip. He closed his eyes to savour the wonderful tea and let it warm up whatever parts of him were still frozen from the nights work. Gods, he needed that. Not one to ignore a sweet treat, especially not of his own making, BlackBerry then helped himself to one of the biscuits.

"Yes, yes, of course Lizbeth. Though stay in here, do lets. I fear the upstairs will still be frightfully cold." He replied once finishing the biscuit. Had the chairs always been this comfortable? A yawn forced a pause in the sentence. "I do say I could do with some shut eye before, myself. This tea is very nice indeed, Victoria, thank you."

Resting back in his chair, still with teacup in hand to enjoy to sweet aroma of the hot drink, he could feel his eye lids starting fall. But there was still at least one more task to finish before he would let himself enjoy the promised well earned rest. But he could also see the look Victoria and knew with a guilty twist in his stomach would have to face the music soon enough. He waited for a moment for Lizbeth to be looking down at her mug before his shot Victoria an apologetic half smile and mouthed 'later'.

"Though it may be needless to say the wretters are litter, the litterin are letters, the...the...good gracious me. Pardon me while I put my teeth back in." He rallied himself with a deep breath. "The letter. Draconic Writing. Spoken Abyssal. There, good grief that was hard work." Collapsing backwards again after spending the last shreds of energy he still continued."We shall let the other two know when they get back in, and then decide upon our next action only after we are all rested. We have 'Adequate Time' after all so no reason to rush things. Speaking of the other two, where are they? Perhaps the pair have fallen asleep somewhere? Lady Kathryn did look to be two paces away from collapsing, poor thing."

In the resulting quiet he took another drink of his tea and gazed down into its black surface. It seemed an appropriate colour, black and featureless, like a stained looking glass reflecting a calm and quaint scene of them all enjoying hot tea and biscuits in feverish denying spite of what the letter contained.

With the bits and pieces all set aside inside of the barrel, Kathryn felt assured that soon this whole mess would be behind them. Surely no more dead people would come to be creepy when Kathryn and Kosara burned them all to bits. That is at least the logic Kathryn's have burnt out mind could muster. Kathryn made no attempt to stop Kosara from digging through the corpse pieces. She would however, try her best to not be sick as she watched Kosara. On the plus side, Kosara seemed to have a better idea of what was going on with the dead people than Kathryn did. Though she still seemed inconclusive. Shame, but at least Kosara had better ideas than Kathryn. "Whatever be the cause its still weird. I don't trust them one bit." But alas, Kathryn was ready to torch the bits and be done with it.

That was until a sharp tone Kathryn hadn't heard before spoke up. Kathryn already had her dagger in her hand before the bird could finish its challenged sentence. Eyes wide, clearly a little jumpy, Kathryn locked eyes with the dagger prepped to launch. Seeing Victoria's bird and waiting for it to speak, Kathryn slowly lowered the dagger, and soon sank it back into her boot. Tired, confused, and attempting to process the situation, Kathryn sighed. There would be no barrel burnings yet. "I guess hot tea sounds rather nice..." Kathryn spoke exhausted and defeated. But hot tea did sound nice... Maybe something to nibble on too. A night of hard work without treats and snacks was difficult. Kosara and Victoria had won. Despite Kathryn's aversion to ransacking the dead, they both had a point. They may have clues, evidence, and other important bits of information. Or in Kosara's case, more loot. The bodies would have to wait.

"Yeah lets deal with the bodies later..." Kosara did bring up a good point on removing the bits from public eye just in case. So barrel by barrel Kathryn moved the bits back to the workers quarters. Only to trip up on the last barrel as she set it down inside the windowless room. Though she was able to save the barrel from tipping and spilling, she collapsed to a knee to have her cheek land on the bits on the top of the barrel. Reacting quick, Kathryn jumped up, ran out of the room into the court yard and began hacking and gagging reflexively as she gained distance. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck no no nu uh." She mumbled as she calmed herself. Thankfully nothing came up, but she was still shaken. "[color=roleplayerguild.com/topics/186855-avo… just get inside...[/color]" Kathryn mumbled to Kosara as a couple small frozen specs were still stuck to her cheek.

In her half tired state, Kathryn hadn't adjusted herself to the doorway, and in retaliation for the wooden frame hitting her in the head as she entered she sharply replied with a fist hitting the frame, backed up with the words. "Dick Fucker." She spoke as she continued walking in, and seemed to relax rubbing the sore spot on her head and grabbing a cup of tea. "Did we miss anything interesting?" Kathryn asked tired and defeated. To accompany this feeling, Kathryn went over to the barrel of brandy that had been recovered a bit ago, and poured herself a pint before setting it on the counter, looking at it, and decided what would go great with it, is a bottle of sweet red. Thankfully, she had one of those opened from a previous evening. A few sips from the red to get started, a plate full of some left over Morty bits, and a mug of brandy, and Kathryn was ready to take on the day!

Then she saw it, the sweet biscuits. "Ooooooh... those look good." She said with a lot more energy than she had previously held. Nothing could stop Kathryn from getting her hands on treats. Shy of maybe someone rather sternly telling her no. "Hey BB is it cool if I have some of those?" Kathryn tried to ask in her best sweet innocent lass tone. And to her excitement, the dragonborn said yes! "THANKS!" Kathryn spoke up and took 3 long steps to get to the tray, shoved one in her mouth, chewed twice, and shoved another in her mouth. The biggest grin on her face, comparable to a child in a candy store being told she was allowed free reign of the sweets. With a third treat in hand, and the first two barely chewed, she stopped, looked around rather shamefully, and sat herself down. Slowing her excited chewing pace she finished until she swallowed and meekly spoke up. "...sorry..." She said the shyness winning over. To wash down her shame she began drinking down the brandy. Nothing cured awkwardness and guilt more than booze!

Kathryn with her array of drinks, Morty bits she snacked on, and buzzed enough to be ready to nap Kathryn spoke up again. "By chance, do we have any easy to make food still left? Soup? Stew?" Kathryn figured that making drinking when she was tired after a long night of work with no food in her system outside of Morty was a bit of a risk. To prevent more trouble like previously, she figured she should address that. "Also, Victoria, were you able to translate that letter at all? Anything we gotta worry about from the Barrel Brigade?" Kathryn spoke with a toothy smile as if she had delivered the best joke.

It may have been a vulgar display of power, such as Victoria's meager magics could provide, to pass a message along to the rest of her party through her Raven. But to be quite honest with herself, it was a boost to her sense of vanity. Further self-honesty had her admitting that she was indeed a touch vain. But in Victoria's mind, she deserved a touch of vanity. Earned it, even. Others might agree. But for now, despite the seriousness of their position, she allowed herself a quiet smile and then set herself to what she wished to do. Well, before a fortune was callously destroyed by her working associates. Not quite to herself, she spoke softly even as the others were entering the Coach House, "We're obviously involved in something, and I do not prefer to be without compensation." A sidelong look at the somewhat distraught Lizbeth had her smoothly continue her sentence, "...unless it is to ensure the protection of our friends."

Their tall Knight clipping her head on the top of the door frame might have given Victoria a mote of mirth, but Kathryn looked like she wasn't in great shape and the bulk of the energy necessary for her to feel happy had drained away anyway. She offered a sympathetic, "Ooh. That does not look comfortable. Come, have a cup of tea. Water is on if you need more; I still have plenty of pressed black and herbal from Southmoor. Honey's on the table." There weren't quite enough cups in the set for everyone with Lizbeth present, but plenty of substitutes were available behind the bar. So she grabbed something a little bit larger for Kat and poured her a cup. Kosara was offered a cup of piping hot libation from the set, be it a smaller that Kathryn's mismatched one, it was aesthetically more pleasing.

Victoria's own cup of tea/brandy/honey was quickly finished. When the idea of food was brought up, she declined to involve herself. No, she had something she needed to do - or at least start doing - and as much as she could go for some food, it was probably best to leave well enough along at this point. Maybe just one of Baronfjord's biscuits. It was polite, after all. Okay, two. Then she was done. But thinking to Baronfjord's silent communication concerning his own claims on languages and the pressing incident, she merely waved it off. They all had secrets in one form or another and she was no exception. Adventurers, by nature, commonly dealt with unusual things about themselves. And if it was about his inability to figure out the phonetic to off-alphabet language issue, well, she had to use magic to get around it, herself. "Not to worry. I have no complaint if you have no desire to discuss something. Anyway, I am about to be busy again, anyway. Please excuse me."

Victoria made for the door, pausing only to recommend to Lizbeth, "Perhaps, hmm... Perhaps it is best that you remain here until I return." She was going to be dealing with corpses. Ones that, if they suddenly decided to be difficult (she did not know the full extent of the shattering yet), she was in a unique position to protect herself against. Victoria wrapped her cloak about herself and secured her new shawl around her head, slipped on a pair of gloves, and went to find their new, quite deceased guests.


It was a while until Victoria had things sorted. And by "sorted", she meant putting the clothes into different stacks, ordered by general type, total outfit, and assumed intended gender, though the flowing nature and open styles made this difficult. It seemed that accessories and application really set the difference on that, meaning a "mix'n'match" philosophy was appropriate. Her eyes were keen for fashion, and as an extension of this she was able to pick up that these articles of clothing came from many cultures throughout that area that they would refer to as The Southlands, beyond the mountains. But this was mostly just clothing. Fine, colorful textiles, a number of which she set aside for herself - many of the purples and a few of the blacks, naturally. But others. A splash of color every now and again to keep things interesting. And it still did not come close to what might have been considered her share, were they to split it along even lines.

It was the vast amount of silk cloth used to wrap the now shattered bodies which gave her pause. Acquiring them was an exercise that did genuinely disgust the usually stoic-around-death Bard, as she unwrapped the frozen shards of corpse-ice and let it tumble with tiny tinkling cacophonies into the barrels provided. When she had nonchalantly (and a little greedily) shuffled the body bits into a barrel to be set aflame, Victoria pressed the textured, amazingly produced silks into as small a space as she could, and cast just as many Prestidigitation spells as was necessary to rid these shrouds of anything offensive, while still maintaining the quality thereof. Her eyes fell over the stitching of the black shrouds and then the white ones in turn, attempting to bring about a memory of something like this into her sleep deprived brain, even as cold-numbed fingers ran over them for a hope of some tactile clue. "...these mean something..." she mused aloud. "Even if their bearers don't know it." Victoria would personally have felt better about herself if she could remember what it was. But something was there. Maybe after rest and food, it would come to her.

But it wasn't the only thing of interest she found among the clothing.

After a while, Victoria returned into the Coach House. Her ability to clean and polish with magic worked very well for her, as she came carrying several bundles of silken cloth - some black, some white. One additional bundle with a bit of mottled purple poking out, obviously her cherry picks, and another, random article of fiery orange cloth which might have been a scarf or head wrapping which was folded around something bulky. She set the silks down upon the table next to where the party and Lizbeth were sitting, but unfolded the orange cloth directly onto the table before them. Five knives with decently crafted sheathes were uncovered; two single edged with a reinforcing "T" shape along the spine of the blade, three double-edged and curved, resembling small scimitars. All were ornamented and amazingly well crafted, but different enough of appearance as to not be confused with a regular military issue. Victoria picked up one of the single edged ones and gave it a closer look in the firelight. It bore irregular, wavy markings in the steel of the blade which gave her no small amount of curiosity. "I found these, one each, with the diplomats. I have not training in knife smithing, nor a lot of knowledge of these cultures aside from burial practices. So, I am open to opinions more expert than mine. Now, the silks?" She took a moment to give a dismissive gesture, "They're clean, It is alright." Getting back to her point, "I will need some time with them. After a meal and some sleep."

Kosara’s idea was mostly boiling down to throwing some cover over the barrels rather than carrying them back inside the room, but on a second thought, maybe that was for the best. She still didn’t help with the barrels though, mostly cause they were too heavy for her and she was going to be more in the way than helping if she tried. Best leave the half giant woman to her own strengths without hindering her. She did however trip on the last moment with the last barrel. The barrel didn’t spill, but still… ouch.

Still when the big warrior woman left the room, Kosara hopped out after her and VERY carefully looked around as if waiting for something to jump out. Once nothing jumped out for a few dozen seconds by the point of which a heavy thunk sounded from the doorway into the coachhouse itself… It seemed Kathryn’s head met the door frame. Kosara closed the door tightly and hurried after her very good friend and inside the warm confines of their temporary home. In any case, the pale tiefling was staring flatly at Kathryn who first snacked hard on some biscuits and then moved to dried meat and alcohol. Kosara did take the offered tea however.” THANK YOU!” She called gratefully and took a sip from the fancy pretty cup.

“...” She stared HARD at the big woman until she began asking ‘funny brigates’ about the time V left to go presumably deal with the loot body barrel. Kosara very well remembered the last time Kathryn got a bit too 'funny'.” LESSER RESTORATION!” Kosara stated hotly as she placed a hand on Kathryn’s shoulder to remove whatever drunken thoughts were starting to accumulate into the warrior woman’s big and handsome head.” No drinking to get drunk in the mornings!” She barked, pointing a finger at Kathryn’s nose.” I will go prepare some breakfast, Kathryn’s right, we need some food. It’s been a long night.” She added and headed for the kitchen, taking off her coat and tossing it on a chair in passing. She halted her step just as she reached the doorway and turned around eyeing the trio left in the room.” Don’t let Kathryn over drink again while I’m in the kitchen! She’s a clumsy silly drunk!”

And with that Kosara vanished into the kitchen, focusing on preparing a breakfast meal for the group who apparently went by the moniker of ‘The Ones Who Answered’ or something along those lines. A fact she had already forgotten about. Her merry band of friends needed sustenance and she was going to provide it!

Like a storm she swept through the kitchen, finding ingredients and putting more wood into the stove. She took some preserved vegetables, meats, eggs and even located some druid fruits. A frying pan was placed and soon after there were ankheg meat, some other salted meat and veggies stir frying. The sound of sizzling filling the air. She in the meantime was also putting the preparations for some dough for flatbread and scrambling eggs to fry too. A kettle was placed on the fire with a bunch of dried fruits to boil for a fresh fruity tea. Kosara was surprisingly in her element at the kitchen. Though her knife handling and stirring techniques could be generously called interesting and more realistically the brainchild of a lunatic. She did have to use… FLOURISH! It was fun… So she was humming a song her sisters used to back home about the golden sands.

* * *

Preparing the food took some time as it turned out. The Stir Fry and the eggs got ready quick, but the flat breads took a bit more time. Which was good cause the dried fruits needed a bit more time to boil properly. Dried fruits made remarkably good tea even she from the desert knew it. At some point Kosara heard the front door and following that V’s voice. It was time to serve the food!

“Hey, V! Food’s ready!” Kosara called out as she opened the door, carrying two platters in this case the stir fry and the eggs.” Bread and freshly brewed fruit tea is in the kitchen. Could somebody help with carrying all the plates?” She asked as she walked over to one of the tables and put the food down, heading back to the kitchen for the rest.

BlackBerry set the cup down and proceeded to pinch the bridge of his nose in an effort to sooth the headache now drumming with fury to his own heart beat. But with a wince at the dull 'thunk' of Lady Kathryn clipping the doorway he admitted it could be a lot worse. The was the usual cacophony of noise as people ambled into the room and began trying to either find somewhere to sit, stand, or otherwise exist all at once in the same room. Whatever silence there had been before was not well and truly shattered.

"Careful Lady Kathryn, that did sound as if it left a mark." At her request he did of course gesture to the biscuits laid out on the table for her and Kosara to help themselves to. Then to the next question he gestured loosely to the kitchen door behind him. "I am sure there is something one could put together from various leftovers but I myself will pass on any substantial meals for now. Thank you."

Why was it when you had a headache, you could suddenly hear everything in the whole county? Let alone someone nearby scarfing down snacks. Granted at any other moment BlackBerry would have been doing the same.

But to Lady Kathryn's other question and what was undoubtedly also on Kosaras mind BlackBerry felt his stomach twist again with unease, and to make matters worse Victoria had promptly excused herself from the situation leaving him to try and explain things. He took another sip from his drink to give a moment to collect his thoughts and cast another look at Young Lizbeth who had remained understandably quiet.

"To answer your question in Victoria's absence, Lady Kathryn, yes progress was made and the letter has been translated in full. To add yet another layer to the fine mystery on our hands; while the letter was written in old Draconic, the contents were phonetic Abyssal." The cheerful tune in his voice then faded away as he pulled the offending letters from underneath his poncho, offering them to whomever whish to take them to see. BlackBerry had no intention of lying about the letters contents but he saw no need to point anything towards Lizbeth, so for now the details of 'how' could simply be left for another day. "Unfortunately the details within are less than...well...optimal? Preferable? Good, one would say. But given our current tiredness and lack of urgency in the letter itself I do suggest we leave any decisions until tomorrow. Saying that, Kosara, if you have any thoughts we would appreciate your input. I do not mean to presume anything but this does seem to be from you neck of the woods."

Still wearing his poncho from the night he was starting to feel uncomfortably warm now that the fire had done its job. He pulled off the poncho and started to roll it up in his lap, taking a moment to retie his scarf and the rest of his addled thoughts into order. By the gods he felt tired in both mind and body. How the others could even think of eating at a time like this he had no idea. A small snack and the warming, calming tea of Victoria's had been more than enough for him and now all he wanted to do was sleep.

"I do wonder if anyone else has noticed but there the letter is lacking instruction for sending a response." Using the rolled poncho as a pillow for his neck, he let his head roll backward over the the back of his chair and closed his eyes. "Do you suppose they expect us to send a letter back? 'Please Post Master, Sir, but what are you rates for delivery to parts unknown? 3 gold? My how reasonable of you indeed.'"

At some point BlackBerry must have dozed off, possibly even snored once or twice, because the next thing he knew the front door had opened with another unwelcome blast of cold air. He lifted his head and cracked open one eye just to see it was Victoria returning with her arms laden with bundles of cloth. His eye followed her as she placed one such bundle onto the table in front of him and revealed 5 blades in decorated sheathes. He opened his other eye and blinked slowly at the blades.

Something in the song Kosara was singing from the kitchen stirred a memory of another adventurers tales from the Southern Deserts.

"That comment you made earlier; self-importance and all that. I think you are correct. Something as decorated as that would have cost quite the pretty penny." BlackBerry shuffled in his seat trying to find the comfortable position again. With his eyes closed and chin resting on his chest he added to the thought, "Status symbol or someway to say how rich a person is I think. I remember being told a story about waves and water being a kings right or something along that idea or other. Curious really."

Again the question nagged in BlackBerry's mind; Who is Farid al Ramil Sabaj al Hazred. This and many other questions sat in lumps, worrying each other without any answers and only the promise of uncomfortable truths at best, and dangerous lies at worst. He let out a sigh and cracked open an eye again to look at Lizbeth.

"How are you feeling, Young Lizbeth?"

Kathryn rather enjoyed being a bit buzzed. It numbed the aches and pains caused from a long night of hard labor, boosted her confidence, and she honestly liked the taste of alcohol to probably an unhealthy degree. Yes, she would have to moderate, and yes she was very bad at it, but she was working on it! And this was a winter vacation! Turning more and more into a series of potential problems... Problems which could and should be totally dulled by alcohol! Kathryn being as relaxed as she was, enjoying her snacks and fine wines, didn't take full note of what Victoria was saying at first. But when the thinking gears began to turn! The old thinker soon kicked into full power! "For once, I think this makes me the smart one of the group." Kathryn said with an ever so confident grin on her face as she picked up one of the daggers. Kathryn's air of confidence was soon wore down with the words she was beginning to dread. "Lesser, Restoration." Suddenly Kathryn felt much more aware of her surroundings, and all the aches and pains she was trying to dull returned. "What the fuck dude..." Kathryn mumbled to her friend in a weak defeated tone. "I ain't throwing people out windows yet, that seemed so unnecessary!" Sure, maybe that thin line Kosara was talking about was hard for Kathryn to recognize when she was drinking. But dayum. "We don't even get a morning! I am going to bed soon!" Kathryn said the exhaustion trying to fight back. Alas, the tiefling woman had robbed Kathryn of her ignorant bliss and the erosion of her social filter. Maybe if she drank fast while Kosara was cooking she could hide the tipsy-ness? Only time would tell.

"Where was I..." Kathryn said taking another bite of morty trying to think again. "The short and sweet version? These here are some old, and a rather high commodity. Giving out to nobles for gifts sort of thing. Skilled smiths could maaaaaaybe replicate it in the right conditions? But it takes years of training, practice, specific steel and iron qualities, and is overall considered a rather dated process to make blades. Still doable, but they're also not locally made. At least by anyone native to the region. Along those lines, it can probably all be traced back to the southern deserts. Even then, if you're not upper class, chances are you won't ever lay your hands on something like this. Unless you can throw a lot of money at your problems." Kathryn said with an air of confidence normally only seen when she is either extremely buzzed, or violently removing the head of some poor bloke with a blunt weapon. "What makes these blades even more strange? They're made of Yasmin steel. Probably related to the otherwise out of date metal working skills here." Kathryn said pondering the dagger over. A vicious blade, one that would absolutely be hung up in a library or in a private room. Taking a few sips of her brandy, looking over her shoulder to make sure Kosara wouldn't stop her, Kathryn continued. "These are the sort of weapons people obtain to be flashy. Not only because they look pretty, but they are expensive, and are so well made they get their own myths and legends about them." So what the fuck were 5 undead dudes doing with them. Only to explode and lose them. Same for the clothes. Are they gifts? Traps? Curses? Apart of Kathryn did want to pull a prank, touch one of the blades and pretend to lose her mind. But she was tired, and so was everyone else. Also she didn't want to get blasted in the back with some sort of magic beam.

As Kathryn listened in to what Blackberry had to say about updates, Kathryn sighed with defeat again. This vacation was turning out more and more weird as it went on. Finishing the brandy in the waterskin Kathryn sighed again. She'd drink to sleep tonight, but fuck she'd kill for a hot meal. If her bones didn't ache so much it felt like the muscles would slide off any moment she would go make something. But alas, she was hurting, she was tired, and the alcohol she used to numb her aches and pains also made her tired. There was simply no winning in the life of a noble half giant. "Sending it back could be hard... If Victoria or Kosara didn't find more instructions... I suppose we wait..." Looking over to Lizbeth, she wondered if she should mention the need to ask Cecily. There was something weird going on here, and maybe she knew, or maybe she didn't. While Lizbeth was so... stressed out seemed the best word, Kathryn wouldn't risk bringing that sort of burden on the small bean.

When Blackberry and Victoria brought up the sheer self importance of whoever sent these... creatures. Kathryn couldn't help but bring up her long lost past. "When I was little. Like, half of Lizbeth's age. Maybe a tad older..." Kathryn stopped to ponder, took a sip of the sweet red she grabbed, and set the bottle back down. "My parents took me to this huge ball in the capital. When I say huge, I mean my parents had a new dress made for me, and my mother got her best dress out of storage for this event. The big reason for the ball was basically a massive consolidation of power by the king. Rewarding loyalist, making sure the right houses got the new lands, and making sure everyone had the allies they needed to hold onto new claims. To do that, lots of us tikes were to be married off to one another. A mix of tightening our new holdings, and to help prevent too much infighting while everything was sorted out." Kathryn paused a moment, trying to consider how to word the next part. "My dress was nice, but I was little, and had a tendency to play in the dirt a lot. My mother's dress? I swore that night she was the most beautiful woman in all the world that night. Both of us were dressed in all of our best silks. Hell's I think my father and brother were as well. The point being, us, a noble house that wasn't huge, but by no means was small, all got to wear some rather fine and nice silks. A lot of them." She couldn't remember if any of her other siblings wore silks... or if they were even there...

Then Kathryn pointed sharply to the piles of silks that Victoria had cleaned off and brought in. "That right there is more silken garbs than my family had mustered up for potentially one of the most influential weekends of our house's span. And it is being used on undead envoys. With some of the most expensive short blades I have ever seen. This is someone who wants the world to know they have money to burn." And if you play your cards right, some of it may even be yours. She figured the others understood that part. But someone who had this sort of wealth to just burn, also had the means to take so much more. When that realization hit Kathryn, she was definitely unsettled. The plus side about being tipsy again, it was a lot easier to hide the fear.

As Blackberry went over to check in on Lizbeth, Kathryn worried she may have added way too much stress and hardship to the small bean, already struggling enough. Kosara had soon announced the need for assistance with carrying out the platters, Kathryn would take this chance to walk into the kitchen to help Kosara bring out plate after plate. Thinking of ways to help the small bean as she did so. And hiding the fact that she had already gotten herself a bit drunk again from Kosara. When an idea hit her! "Hey Lizbeth, you know we got a lot of silks here. Maybe we can see about getting it sized into some fine garbs? I own a dress but it's nothing fancy, and I am pretty sure its just a fancier version of those dresses tavern woman wear to get better tips." Kathryn jested trying to help cheer up Lizbeth. "I know nothing about sizing up clothing, but I am sure we could figure something out yeah?" Kathryn asked optimistically. "Not tonight though... Tonight... or today I guess, We all could use a nap. Or a short term coma. But when we are all feeling rested up, we can all work on some fines clothes together, and maybe Blackberry can tell us how big his eggs will be when he lays them!" Kathryn said full of joy and excitement, though the last comment seemed less like a jest than the one before. Taking another sip of the sweet wine, it appeared that was also gone. Maaaaaybe she also got carried away with that too.

Weather: It is still below freezing, make no mistake, but the temperature is hovering just below it. The wind keeps itself to low gusts along the ground level, but the higher atmosphere demonstrates a more rapid movement of clouds, themselves scattered and patchy as they direct themselves with seeming purpose across an indifferent sky. More precipitation might be inbound, if probably not this night.

Time: It is early evening. Not quite dusk yet, but seriously planning on it.

Ambience: A cold evening settled upon the Rose River Vineyard. It was a rosy, purplish evening; quiet and full of folksy winter charm. Most people have been able to adapt to the weather, in part. That is to say, those who found cold weather fully intolerable can now, well, tolerate it with seasonally appropriate attire. In the intervening weeks, a fresh blanket of powdery snow had fallen, leaving just the area in and around the Honigblume grapes to suffer the wrath of the repeated trampling of workers' shoes. The multiple lit braziers, once an odd sight against nighttime's landscape, had become a reassuring sort of sight, regular in its appearance as torches were set to them every dusk over the recent weeks.




The extremely early morning meal from three weeks prior was an excellent example of what can be done with available ingredients and skilled hands. While it was not consumed under the best of morale, it served plenty well to raise spirits and center thoughts. A fed belly led to a sharper mind, and everyone was fairly dulled by the time all was said and done. During this meal, Lizbeth kept her commentary to a minimum, giving her thanks to Kosara and nodding politely at Kathryn's story, even forcing a genial smile on to show her interest, but it was apparent that her heart wasn't in being sociable. To the point when Baronfjord asked point blank how she was feeling, tears spilled quietly as she answered, "Fine. Tired." Somewhere in the middle of consuming Ankheg stir-fry and delicious flatbread, she gingerly reached out a hand to take one of the curious daggers from the table. She removed it from its oddly intact sheath, sighed a bit, and slipped it back within. The exotic stabbing instrument remained on her person unless directly inquired into.

Following her being done with the meal, she quietly gathered her things, made her way up and out of the taproom. The silently trudged up the stairs and into the bedrooms, whereupon she claimed the bed that she used the last time she visited and fell immediately into a dead sleep.

As the days turned into weeks and time marched on, the young lady, Lizbeth, became a focused individual in her training. Everything that Kathryn could teach her was sponged almost greedily, as well as evening sessions with Urmdrus. One might often catch her seeking conversations with Kosara or Victoria, trying to steer them to the subject of their very differently manifested forms of magic. But no actual requests to learn spells or anything of the sort. It appeared at face value to be genuine curiosity, and not always the crux of her desire to talk. Sometimes it was just music or art or cooking, or merely how they were doing with their own studious efforts. But her martial training - this was taken seriously. She was often physically depleted from it.

Cecily made herself available sparingly, usually with the excuse that there was much to be done in preparation for the Late Harvest and the work which would then have to occur. But she did make herself available, for those who wished to speak with her. She was, as always, a kind and gracious host, willing to put out a little extra resources to make sure that her personal saviors were comfortable and happy in every respectable way, and taking honest interest in how they spent their time. There were no more offers of meals in the Estate House, at least not over the course of these three weeks, again citing business. After all, one woman was handling the whole of a famous Vineyard and the estate holdings during an important time of the year. Nevertheless, if one had a point they wished to speak about with her, she could be eventually gotten hold of.

Urmdrus, being the very image of camaraderie (sarcasm imtended), showed up mainly to take measurements with that damned rope of his, consume an impressive amount of ale, wine, or whatever was available, along with an ample helping of meat if it was a mealtime. A dwarf of many talents and few words, he would then toddle off to whatever project he found himself immersed within. One of those projects, obviously, was finishing the Ankheg armors.

Over time, the events of the early freeze night turned from a fresh, raw piece of horror and prolonged labor turned into a worrisome memory. Acts of quasi-supernatural shenanigans had faded away to little more than an odd prickling feeling for the most part, which seemed to give many of the remaining workers and the lady of the manor cause to breathe a little easier. People's schedules became more regular, including the various work programs and minor apprenticeships which our stalwart protagonists attached themselves to. Things even began to look up, on personal and professional levels. Minor successes were had and celebrated within this time. Maybe even enough to make some complacent. But these were a hardy lot of rural laborers and shrewd craftsfolk. Surely a little taste of good times would not lull them too heavily.

It was about two weeks from the incident that the braziers were no longer lit. The temperature continued to hover at or below freezing and the white drifted landscape endured, but the nighttime fires ceased. It was a head scratcher at first as to why they might decide to do this, but simple inquiry to any of the laborers or merely waiting for a couple of days let the explanation be known - they were waiting for the grapes to freeze, the vines to become dormant, and from this, the perfect time to harvest. The bulk of this wave of winter illness had passed, and with enough notice this time the Rose River Vineyard had enough assistance to make quick work of the picking. Past this came the processing of the grapes, a task which required a relatively shorter amount of work but by much fewer, more skilled persons, and the tanking up for fermentation. While this process would take a fair piece of time, it was a task of measurements and time only. This meant only one thing:

"And I should be truly honored, brave heroes," said Cecily, looking very near to cheerful, "if you would be as kind as to grace our family in the Tasting Room of the Estate House to sample the Honigblume. It is custom for us, once the harvest is in, to sample our reserves from five years prior. That is the reserve batch we are releasing for public sale this year." She went on to explain, "It is not an 'official' holiday, you understand, just something that we do among close friends and family. If you'd like, you may each bring someone as your personal guest! Oh, we'll have a lovely time, I'm almost positive. And it's almost Frostval, too! You can use this time to scout out gifts for one another. Do... do your people practice Frostval?" Perhaps a question better put before the suggestion, but she did seem to be a bit excited for the upcoming festivities.

Kathryn had a busy few weeks. Despite the concern of dead people crammed into barrels, things seemed to calm down and didn't get too weird since. She was still lacking answers though. To amend this, she needed to learn what she could about the southern deserts, the people who ruled over them, and who were the major players. Kathryn's own knowledge limited her rather drastically, but as a whole she was far from dim in this regard. With a little research she was able to think up a few key players. Including, but hopefully not limited too, Lords of Argentum, the Princes of the Southern Deserts, the Elves of Kyrilor. She knew little and less on these people. Other than the fact they were fuck you levels of rich. They were a good start to get things going. Some groups of dwarves and paladins came to mind, but she put them on lower priority and less likely suspects. But she would keep note of them just in case. She didn't have a lot of leads to filter out the wash of irrelevant information. So she would need to make a new lead. She vaguely remembered that Victoria's new teacher was a soldier during the necromancy wars. As this seemed related, Kathryn hopes she may be able to share some information. And maybe it would give her some answers to the weird dreams she has been having recently... She hated how related all of it seemed to be.

The investigation wasn't the only thing to take place, Kathryn still worked hard on her studies! And had been making solid progress on her notes. She was finally able to make out simple sentences without having to use her notes! Most of the time... But she still found herself relying on her notes to translate less and less! IF that wasn't progress she wasn't sure what was! Soon she would be able to fully translate the note they had found with the goblins. She hated not knowing what the deal with those little fuckers was. They were clearly up to something... more than just raiding. Unless some sort of factory lost a shipment of weapons a few months ago, none of it added up. And apart of her worried that she and the party were meant to come across the horrid beasts. Soon, she would have that note translated. Soon she would have her answers. For now, she waited and learned.

For more good news, Kathryn finally had her armor. With a fresh clean bath for herself, a nice polish work done by herself and Master Urmdrus and soon herself just to make sure it looked perfect, Kathryn found herself looking at her reflection in the window admiring a new woman. Stronger, more powerful, fiercer, prouder, and despite her lack of skills in dressing up and makeup, she thought she looked rather nice too. Overall, this was a huge win for Kathryn. Her confidence was booming and it showed. She felt she could take on the world! For now though, it would be the teenager.

Kathryn had not let up Lizbeth's training one bit. If anything, Kathryn got harder with it. Kathryn never let Lizbeth win, but she made it an effort to never just flatten her into the floor every time they practiced. She wanted the girl to learn. So Kathryn would call out attacks Lizbeth could make, and for a while even called out her own shots so Lizbeth could react to them. Now, that stopped. She expected Lizbeth to be able to register most of Kathryn's swings as she did so. After the first few bruises, Kathryn opted to layer some padding on Lizbeth's arms so that the swings Kathryn did hurt far less. Though she was holding back, Kathryn was still nearly 3 times Lizbeth's size, and no less than 10 times as strong. Kathryn's new addition of plate armor only made things more intense. During a day when the snow was light and shallow, Kathryn had approached in full armor with no weapons or shield in hand and had simply said "I am going to pick you up, and lay you down flat in the snow. Your goal is to stop me. Either by tiring me out, tripping me up, or preventing me from making contact. Understood?" And before Lizbeth could reply, Kathryn began an aggressive march over to the small bean. The shallow snow not slowing her down one bit. At first Lizbeth had worked on keeping distance and maneuvering under low branches to slow Kathryn down, but as Kathryn failed to slow and had used her strength and size to muscle her way through every obstacles that Lizbeth maneuvered around. Letting Kathryn get closer and closer. It wasn't until Kathryn went to grab Lizbeth's arm that the teenager took her first swing, knocking away Kathryn's hand before she could pin Lizbeth to the snow. "Good job. Now keep it up." Kathryn refused to slow, muscling her way through obstacles, and blocking Lizbeth's wooden sword with her armored forearms, speaking up only occasionally to give Lizbeth advice on how to face off against a larger opponent. "Many people who are good at fighting are big, strong, and are used to being able to push about people smaller than them. You need to know how to face off against them." During one of these advice strips, Kathryn had walked through a cluster of branches Lizbeth had passed through in an attempt to slow Kathryn down, and Kathryn began walking through it as if it were snow in the wind, only to get tripped up on a sudden but short drop that had tripped up Kathryn sending her face down into the snow. Before Kathryn could get up to continue, she felt the wooden sword whacking her repeatedly on the back of her helmet. Lured into a trap via her own arrogance. It was clear Lizbeth was far better prepared to battle people bigger than herself than she gave her credit for. "Shit Fuck Hell alright alright I yield. You win." Kathryn spoke up surprised, proud, and confused all at the same times. And for the first time since training began, Lizbeth had gotten a victory over Kathryn.

Kathryn also figured she was overdue for a rematch against Blackberry. An opponent who could not only go toe to toe with her, but also had won their past duel when Kathryn underestimated him. SO! She was only going to pull punches enough to not cause any permanent injuries. She was ready to win! A time and place was set, and soon there would be a rematch.

It seemed things were going great with the estate as well! Cecily had approached the party and offered them to join her in wine tasting! Not just any wine tasting! Tasting older years of the batches that were about to be released now! "That would be so wonderful! I can't wait!" The problem, she had no guests to bring. They were all present. She had no family (At least none that shared a name with her household), she had no friends who were outside of the party, and she had no lovers. She was pretty sure most of the rest of the party was in the same boat. But she couldn't be sure, and wondered if for a brief moment if she would be the only one going by herself. What if she was the awkward lonely alcoholic of a girl being edgy on the back wall of the party?! Shite... But maybe others didn't have people to invite either? She didn't know, and figured she should probably not depend on that to save her pride. "I don't practice Frostval personally, but it seems like something fun to participate in!" A holiday involving booze? What was there to not love.

With Lizbeth's training going well, the goblin learning going also acceptably, Kathryn wanted to show her party that she could in fact be of great help other than just raw muscle and her ability to win in battles. Most of the time. First! She had gone to Victoria with the intentions to see her new teacher Annick the healer. Though it took a moment for Victoria to realize it wasn't a jest, she seemed to agree. Hearing how uneasy the woman got with strangers Kathryn also wanted to make the best first impression possible. Apart of her debated grabbing her dress and wearing that over. But she figured that would make her uncomfortable, and visibly so. Giving bad vibes seemed like a great way to not make friends. So, full armor, but with the proper colored talberd over it to give it the best looks possible. Make her seem powerful without seeming intimidating. That is when Kathryn was most confident, and she wanted to be confident, but not arrogant. So no booze... Shame. But necessary. Next! Treats, Cinnamon buns! Kathryn heard the old war vet loved cinnamon, so why not lean that way but with a sweet treat? Not being an expert baker as of yet, Kathryn did opt for some help from Kosara. And honestly? Kathryn found baking with Kosara some excellent fun! Even if some more moments may have played out that made Kathryn question is her friend was a bit of a perv or just sweet and innocent in the most confusing ways possible. With enough made for her bribes of friendship and a few leftover, Kathryn thanked Kosara, and made sure she was ready to face the old vet. "Thank you Kosara! I'll let you know how it all goes! Same some rolls for me though!" Kathryn spoke up on her way out. The temptation to snack on all the cinnamon rolls now was ever present... But she must resist. To help her case, Kathryn made sure to grab some of the bug meat that was left over from the great battle as an offering. They had gone through a bit, but they still had some left. Though Kathryn figured she was probably one of the bigger reasons they had gone so much... she enjoyed her snacks...

The road to the hamlet was long, but considering the fact that Kathryn wasn't carrying 1200lbs of wine today, it was more of a casual stride for her. No working out, no battles to the imitation death with Lizbeth this morning, and she honestly slept rather well! With a little bit of a moral boost from Victoria in the ways of her magic music, Kathryn felt ready to take on the world! Or at least talk face to face with an old war medic. Things were looking optimistic! Walking in with Victoria also gave Kathryn a bit of a boost. Though it was clear by the way Kathryn would go on her worrisome ramblings during the whole walk, seemingly without taking a breath, she was a little concerned with making a bad impression. So when Kathryn finally approached the house at the edge of town, isolated in the woods, she was able to hold her warm smile as she knocked politely on the door. Though dressed in full armor, her helm sat buckled to her belt so her head was visible and it was easier to see her as friendly. Kathryn waited for permission to enter, and when doing so did so slowly, and with both hands visible. One hand holding a burlap sack, and the other gently and slowly off to her side to ease the door open, and too then grin the top of the bag with her other hand. Kathryn even came in lightly equipped by her standards today. Taking only her family sword that hung on her belt on one side, the hammer which hung on the other, and the boot dagger. Though fitted with the belts, straps, and buckles across her person, everything fit together rather nicely.

"Hello Madam Annick." Kathryn said with a polite curtsy before returning eye contact and a warm smile again. "My name is Lady Kathryn Pyke. I hear some good things about you." She spoke gleefully, but did her best to not lay it on thick. She was really excited to be here. This was like a mini adventure in her journey as she tried to piece little bits and bobs together. "I wanted to thank you for your time today, I know you're a busy woman so I wanted to bring my thanks. My friend and I made some cinnamon rolls fresh from the oven this morning, and I brought some of our Ankheg jerky too in case you were interested. I hear it's a great treat though out of season. Still, I thought you might like it." Kathryn said. Unsure if it would be better to hand the woman the bag, or to take the treats out individually and give them to her. Kathryn opted to give the woman the bag, if she didn't want to take it in hand, Kathryn could find a surface that was hopefully out of the way to leave it. "I must admit... I do come here with motives outside of just meeting an impressive individual with experiences that... I don't think I could match in five lifetimes." She spoke sheepishly as she pondered the best ways to approach these questions, so she figured she could start simple. "I was wondering if I could ask you some questions about the necromancy wars." She said bluntly, figuring beating around the bush would be the last thing that could help her. But she didn't want to encroach more than she had too until she knew it was safe to do so.

The next three weeks were eventful. It might not have looked this way from an outside point of view, but the steadfast scheduling and rigorous study to which Victoria committed herself seemed uncharacteristic to those who didn't know her very well. As odd as it might have been to see a Bard - an actual Bard and not merely a shiny, otherwise employed musician - put herself to both arcane and medical study in ways that ordinarily only an obsessed Wizard might, this was a dual pursuit of knowledge and power. Those were things which interested Victoria greatly. She often mused that not too long before, she was dead set on making it to the coast and taking a boat back up to her homeland. But ever since she got that letter and decided to divert her attention away from her own issues by answering it, things had gotten interesting. There was a full education's worth of magic and skills to be found in this rather standard-looking farm country. Power. Knowledge. Victoria was on the cusp of a breakthrough that she otherwise would have missed. She could feel it on the very edge of her understanding.

The very next day after the long night and seemingly equally long morning, after she finally got some sleep, Victoria rose with a start. She had kept one of the long knives that she found on the undead corpses with the intent on looking them over with a fresh mind the next day. And keeping it, of course, as it looked utilitarian as well as expensive. It would fit nicely in her personal collection right next to the wire-wrapped dagger she was gifted from her father, on the outset of her adventuring career. The wavy pattern of the blade's metal, the brassy-gold floral decorations from its minimalist guard up through the bottom fifth of the blade, the amazing counterbalance of the black jade hilt with knob pommel, and thickened, "T" shaped spine gave her clues already when viewed with fatigue. Now that she was awake and armed with the knowledge provided by Kathryn, Yasmin Steel, she could view this from proper historical context. To whomever was present to listen when she came downstairs, she passed along, "I remember this now. Yasmin Steel, made famous from the master smiths of Damuscara, The Jasmine City. It is an older pronunciation of the flower's name. This... Wow. Stories say that every blade made from this was a masterwork, as it could only be formed by a master. Human craftsmanship. Legends also say it has qualities in common with cold iron." A thought suddenly struck her, like a dousing of cold water. "If this was a gift from an adversary, then it must not be threatened that we have it."

She left this sobering thought alone and focused on something else. The excessive amount of silk cloth that was tightly wrapped around the bodies. Black, white, quite strong. Flawless, even. The looked at the pattern of the stitching; black on black, white on white. It seemed to possess a sort of ethereal, not-quite-describable quality. Victoria reached into the breadth of her knowledge on Arcana, absolutely certain that she knew something about this. It rang a bell, so to say, even if that bell was faint and far off. She ran to her books, skimming through pages and giving the occasional mumble, until the found the clue which pulled it from her distant memory. "The silk. The shrouds that wrapped the diplomats' corpses - this wasn't known in the time period of the early Necromantic Wars, but if these are originals, then they have been soaking in necrotic energy so thoroughly that they are capable of taking enchantment immediately." Victoria gave an uneasy back and forth shift of her head, playing out how she might continue to vocalize the thought. "...so long as it's Necromancy. And you don't mind having used burial shrouds close to your skin. And there is a small chance of side effects. But this was a fairly recent addition to magical lore that the earlier practitioners shouldn't have been aware of. Anyway, this frightfully demands more research." Oh, but she had her eyes on one of the sheets of black silk now. Not that Victoria could do a lot with it right then, but it was an investment of time and opportunity.

The next week marched to the merry tune of near rigid scheduling for Victoria. She moved about a lot and ate little, surviving mainly on tea, wine (the occasional brandy), and whatever was already prepared and at the extreme ready. If she wasn't at the Healer's place in Southmoor, chances were even that she has her face buried in a book, copying it word for word, line for line, tracing the images therein to make as perfect a copy as she could. Victoria had already reproduced one of them and has moved on, laboriously putting quill to ink, quill to paper, and back again. In separate writings, she listed personal annotations and references, even creating bookmarks to organize the new writings. She learned the appropriate, official terms for various internal bits of anatomy as well as procedures, tools, medicines. Most of this involved trauma of some kind, like one would have to deal with in a battlefield scenario. Some dealt with illness, some with complications which faced people in similar environments. It was grueling to witness, even inspiring a little pity. Her sleep, still less fitful than she might have liked, came in shorter bursts and arrived on occasions that she might have preferred it did not. Often she was found asleep at a table, shiny black quill still in hand and face smooshed awkwardly upon the wooden surface in front of her.

Every so often, maybe once every two or three days, Victoria shook herself off and got a little exercise. A brisk walk, a spontaneous dance, an hour of playing her violin in different, sometimes quirky places. Watchtower, balconies, out in a barren field, maybe underneath that big tree on the hill. It always ceased with her getting back to her studies while at the Vineyard.

Back in Southmoor, it was much the same. Annick Floquet was a bit of a taskmaster as far as her charges were concerned, and Victoria found herself working alongside her daughter a lot of the time. This usually meant handling menial tasks while continually answering questions put to her by the Madame of the house, receiving reprimand or additional work were she to get a question wrong. Another week passed. Another book copied, organized, referenced. Annick was getting her personal library skillfully backed-up by what amounted to indentured seritude, but Victoria was paid off by the experiences given when the older woman had to perform a mundane act of healing or a surgical procedure. The Bard's ability to heal at a word came in handy on the few occasions that it was absolutely necessary to ensure survival, or if little could be done except recommend time to for the flesh to knit. By the time the fifth book was copied, organized, referenced, and Victoria was allowed to perform minor procedures on her own, Annick came to speak with her. "You have not been performing especially grand, Miss Belmont. This is not a trade for which you have amazing aptitude." Victoria waited for the inevitable continuation designed to dash her spirits, or to be sent away. Instead, "It makes your dedication to learning this craft quite respectable. You have your own reasons you're not telling me. But as I said before, I don't think you're evil. Anyway, before you quit on me, you needed to know why I'm making you copy my books." Victoria was all ears. "I obviously don't need them. But if you actually follow through, you will. You are penning your own medical library. Forcing yourself to transcribe everything by hand is the best way to commit the knowledge to memory. And in those tasks, you are doing fine work."

The rest of the day passed in silence from all of them. They knew the jobs to do, and they did them. Victoria spent most of her time cleaning and sharpening medical utensils, until dusk started to approach. She respectfully addressed her mentor, "Madame Floquet? If I may ask a favor of you?" The arched eyebrow of the elder Medician prompted the question onward, "I travel with a Lady Kathryn of Arcanaple. She has expressed interest in your experience in the last of the Wars. I know your hesitance is well founded, and you deserve your privacy, but I did promise that I would ask. She is ...well, I would imagine curious about the history involved, and some tales of your exploits defending the Realms. We are all trying to expand our knowledge for... well, we have reasons. Would you be willing to meet with her?"

Annick's thoughts drifted back to the necrotic grapes and feelings of desecrated ground. It evoked her own memories. "I might have my own questions. Sure. I'll meet with her tomorrow, just to see if I want to talk to her at all. I'm promising nothing."

The next day, Victoria forwent summoning her Phantasmal Steed so that she and Kathryn could walk down to the town together. The Bard gave a few of her insights on speaking with the taciturn, oft ill-tempered woman, but tried not to overload. She would talk, or she would not. As Kathryn bore no trappings of death, nor the dead, nor much in the way of any overt magical anything, she figured that the woman wouldn't meet them at the point of a sword with her daughter aiming a crossbow at distance this time. "I should say, Daughter of Arcanaple, this woman cares not for titles unless one of those titles can directly affect her. She is not easily impressed, and does not brook flattery. She is very direct. I am sure that the two of you shall get along famously. But more than this, you are a woman who is genuine and easily likeable. I stake myself on your success. You have got this." Truly, it was a Bardically Inspiring speech.

When they arrived, Victoria silently gave Kathryn a reassuring pat on her shoulder (which she had to raise her hand way up to accomplish) and a friendly wink. She then disappeared into the Medician's residence and set to organizing for the day's labors.

Following the harvest and extinguishing of fires within the Vineyard, Victoria was pleased to note the presence of Cecily, come to pay a visit. The quick arrival of their tasting day, a day which had been mentioned at the brunch a few weeks ago, perked up her spirits. Victoria was also quite glad it wasn't that day immediately, as she did need to get in some real rest beforehand and, if possible, find someone to invite. Polite greetings and responses to the positive were given, as this was not an event she wanted to miss. "Absolutely! Yes of course. Formal dress affair? Or shall we come as our casual selves? I am amazingly satisfied with either. Oh, perhaps I should just surprise." A beaming smile came from the pretty Half-Elf. In the back of her mind, she listed off that Morty was probably not going to be welcome as her "plus one", though she might sneak in her Raven unannounced. Either way, it was bound to be a pleasant night overall. Now who to bring...