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[h2][color=darkorchid][i][b]Victoria Belmont[/b][/i][/color][/h2][i][b][color=9932cc]Half-Elf, Bard, Level 5[/color][/b][/i]
[color=9932cc][i][b]HP:[/b][/i][/color] 33 / 33	[color=9932cc][i][b]Armor Class:[/b][/i][/color] 16	[color=9932cc][i][b]Conditions:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[color=9932cc][i][b]Location:[/b][/i][/color] Rose River Vineyard (Tasting Room)
[color=9932cc][i][b]Action:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[color=9932cc][i][b]Bonus Action:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[color=9932cc][i][b]Reaction:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
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[right][img]https://i.ibb.co/84xS62pB/Victoria-Alt-7-ss.png[/img][/right]
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	[i]"Don't hit the wine too hard."[/i] For a woman who reminded Victoria that she didn't trust and occasionally even disliked her, Annick seemed to act like she was Victoria's mother. At some point, the younger Bard would have to mention something to that effect. She might have been right, even if Victoria didn't want to admit it. She has already sampled a dram of the brandy before heading out this way and continued drinking, at least to the point of excess, would be suboptimal. She just didn't want to be told this from her mentor during what amounted to her "off hours". Victoria questioned herself as to why she chose to invite the locally famous Medician Annick Floquet, only to self-realize that this was a bid to ingratiate herself to the woman, while simultaneously attempting to get a wiser, more worldly person to offer up an opinion as to the possible goings-on here. It was safe to say that the itinerant Bard was just a bit of an opportunist and that this was a minor opportunity involving metaphorical birds pitted against equally metaphorical stones. All the same, maybe she wouldn't [i]hit the wine too hard[/i], but this [i]was[/i] a wine tasting. Victoria was going to taste the wine. 

	The initial introductions out of the way, it appeared that Baronfjord had the first colorful anecdote to share with the group at large. This dramatic telling was a story which involved a great deal of physical violence. If Victoria had to place a guess as to how she might fare with either of the two combatants, Baronfjord or Kathryn, in a matching of mundane violence, then her optimism would be a profoud liability. Likely as not, she probably wouldn't last very long against Kosara, either in a purely physical confrontation. Not without a liberal helping of cheap shots and dishonesty. Such was her way if deprived of her magic. Even with magic, she would need to collaborate with her thralls and summons to pull off a direct victory. No, her talents lay elsewhere. [color=9932cc]"I'm afraid that dueling is not my game,"[/color] began Victoria, offering, [color=9932cc]"Perhaps we might have a spelling contest?"[/color] She smiled openly and outwardly at her little joke, before turning to the somewhat more serious. [color=9932cc]"I would appreciate getting the details later, if you wouldn't mind. I can see this fight (and the first one) penned in a lilting pentameter, to be recited later. If you wouldn't mind a little Bardic flourish."[/color] Though it was not spoken, the thought occurred to her that it might be an interesting thing to share with these people's families at their interment in the very likely event that, barring violence or extreme misadventure, she outlived them. She did have that Sylvan heritage, after all. On a long enough timeline, she would see the passing of everyone in the room. She found the concept rather intriguing. Imagine how many such ceremonies she would have to oversee were she to have the full Elven bloodline of others in her extended family. 

	That passing fancy aside, Victoria listened intently to the conversation, if one could call it that, between Kathryn and Monsieur Laurent. The tone seemed to have changed, but she wasn't in a great position to tell how or why, being as she was caught up in her own little interpersonal schemes at the moment. It was a pity that, despite her amazing prowess as a weaver of social situations, her capacity to read people without attempting manipulation of some kind felt stunted. Maybe something to work on later. Kosara, about her much taller companion's arm, seemed in very good spirits despite a certain out-of-place feel to her statements. Not that it seemed to matter to those around her. And she did do an excellent job with that dress, so perhaps a tiny cultural faux pas or two could be forgiven. 

	It wasn't until Laurent referred to everyone aside from Kathryn as "retainers" that she began to catch on. The man was arrogant and making certain assumptions that simply weren't the case. Well, she could be arrogant too, if the situation called for it. Vanity, she sometimes couldn't help. Arrogance, she could use as a social weapon. It was what she did, and she was good at it. But before her very smart boots clipped a single heel in the older man's direction, the antics of Barbal and Tarace Mosswater caught her attention. They, or at least Barbal, was openly mocking the man. Victoria had to hide her smile behind her hands as she carefully stepped back. The burden of taking up a cause of honor on behalf of her friend was sated by the tactless but funny sarcasm from the Halflings in attendance. [color=9932cc][i]"They're regulating themselves,"[/i][/color] thought Victoria. Maybe it was because they had guests. Or maybe it was because they always had a little rivalry amongst them. Whatever the reason, she held both her tongue and her more provocative spellwork for now. 

	Seeing the wines arranged and Lizbeth decanting, Victoria did believe that she might go for a glass, even if it was to toast a man who, within recent memory, had died mysteriously, been transported hastily at night, been stolen, cooked, and eaten by Goblins, not to mention the fact that Victoria performed his funeral ceremony and presently had one of his halfway fire-blackened fingerbones in her divining kit, on her person, [i]right then[/i]. But sure, she was okay with raising a glass to the guy. Why the Hells not? For all she knew, Arnaud L'Rose was a great guy. She would have loved to get a peek at his private study to confirm that. 

	The news that there were more people expected was actually rather cheering. They weren't the last to arrive. While being fashoinably late was a thing, if this kept others from enjoying the party then it was to be avoided, if possible. When one of them arrived, Victoria made sure to extend all of the courtesies possible to him. [color=9932cc]"Master Rens?"[/color] she began, unsure of the appropriate title. He was obviously common born, but wore nice enough clothing to mark him as a comfortably living professional. Master of Wine, she supposed, counted for something if you were qualified for it. [color=9932cc]"As you are the one who obviously handles the day-to-day keeping this place producing some very fine wine, I and my family owe you our appreciation. Thank you. I am called Victoria Belmont, of Ashhaven. I am at your service should you require."[/color] A quick curtsy later and the pleasantries were out of the way, at least by Human standards, considering their perspective rungs on the social ladder. A little less formally, she nudged him with a quiet, [color=9932cc]"I shall have to convince you to tell me how you get that specific flavor that [i]only[/i] comes from this vineyard. I can be quite convincing."[/color] She smiled yet again, a disarming expression as she stepped back from their greeting. The truth was, Victoria had her suspicions already. 

	When the glasses were set to raise, Victoria had wandered back to where Annick was standing. The Medician herself had moved closer to the Mosswaters, apparently finding more in common with them than the more highborn people in attendance or the adventurers. She had acquired a glass of the new fortified wine and was looking at it through the light, not with a savvy vinophile's eye, but with a hint of suspicion. Victoria took up a glass from Lizbeth as well, gave her a polite, [color=9932cc]"thank you,"[/color] and, along with the others around her, raised her glass to her lips. Just a sip. Not a particularly large one, either. Just a sip. But that was all that was necessary. The heavy floral notes with burnt sugary tones, the solid but amazingly smooth alcohol content which was counterbalanced by a dip into sunbaked fruit and the sharper influence of distilled spirit; then the rush of taste at the end, the last flavor which lingered afterward for only a half-second but was unmistakably present in the other wines in lesser concentration (and hearty concentration in the brandy). The rush which was comparable abstractly, faintly, like a piece of an almost grasped memory of her spellwork. And then it dissipated so abruptly that she immediately wished to take another sip, and another, and another, just to keep that on her palate for a bit longer. This wine was dangerous in that regard. [color=9932cc]"Oh my, Madame L'Rose - Cecily - [i]this is phenomenal.[/i]"[/color] 

	Annick agreed, [color=darkgray][b]"This [u]is[/u] very nice."[/b][/color] But there was a hint of caution in her tone. [color=darkgray][b]"Pardon, [i]Miss[/i] Belmont, I'm going to go talk to Rens for a minute."[/b][/color]