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Weather: The cold wind gusts a little harder this morning, giving the occasional whistle over the landscape-encompassing sheets of white snowfall. No new precipitation as of yet, but the sky does indicate a real possibility of more to come. It is cold, but not bitterly so at the moment.
Time: It is now late morning. The sun, or what can be seen of it from behind the blanket of cloud cover, lays high in the sky.
Ambience: The immediate landscape around the partially deconstructed wall in the southern field appears cold and empty. Gifts of the high winter sun are more than ample to see by but provides little in the way of warmth past the barest amounts necessary to make the outermost bits of snow glisten and form frigid drops which threaten to freeze when the sun rests.
The landscape looks similar to those approaching from the Coach House - bobbing white hills, ornamented by inactive grape vines upon their frames, but this one also features a mostly flat stretch of pathway leading off of the grounds and onto the main road beyond the Vineyard. The remaining field nearest to the Estate House is unique amongst the rest of the nearby hills, being the only one with workers tending to vines which still bore fruit.
Getting to the "dig site" is a relatively simple affair for even the most marginally observant of people; whereas many footprints can be seen in high traffic areas of the Vineyard, only two pair can be seen moving to the south. Following those for a relatively short length of time will reveal a sycamore tree atop a hill near the river, at the base of which one might find two motivated women pulling rocks away from a tentative opening.
Behind the dirt there were stacked rocks. The utilization of shovel and mattock were enough to break through these two barriers readily enough. It might even be stated that the barriers wanted to be cleared, thanks to the ease with which they could be brought down initially by two women with no particular claim to great feats of strength nor endurance.
But behind this lay something more interesting than an earth and stone wall. Not in the way of a grander bulwark which required breaching, but the more natural formation of roots, burrowing down through the soil, finding the path of least resistance to push ongoing growth in the pursuit of water and fertile soil. These proved to be more meddlesome to get past than anything else, and it was quickly deduced that the roots slid
between two barriers: The piled rocks and what was likely once a stout, hardwood door.
The door might have once swung outward. It might have been on decent hinges. It might even have had the secrets of the divine carved upon it in perfect Orcish script, but one would never know it now. The brittle, once tough material had succumbed to the ravages of having being buried for an as yet undetermined amount of time. Years, probably. Or more. What could be sussed from the remains of the door was that it was once stout, fit within a stonework frame very neatly, and was heavily barred -
from the outside. Removing it was easy enough.
The hole left in its place was approximately seven feet tall and six wide, possibly a little wider if one really took some time to clear things out, but immaterial to the necessity of exploration. Within lay a short tunnel, maybe twenty feet, with a more or less intact door at the end of it. The tunnel itself is earthen with stone supports, the integrity of which seems to be decent, if not optimal. Roots from the great tree above can be seen snaking in and out of the ceiling and walls here, possibly providing a greater level of stability than what would be present otherwise. A scent fills the air within this place as well; old organic decay mixed with something as sour as it was sweet. It gets stronger as one moves closer to the door.
The door itself is slightly ajar. This is only obvious as one comes upon it, but once within a few feet of it a tiny crack of brick flooring is visible on the other side of the doorway. Pushing the door open is an amazingly easy task to perform for whomever is in the lead. But all actions come with consequences, no matter how mundane.
Whether this consequence came about because of a hand upon the door, the presence of people within the dirt corridor, or some other thing which provoked the will of randomness incarnate, a shimmer expressed among the group. It was subtle, like a strange trick of the light that could be dismissed just as easily as an odd ray of moonlight filtering through trees. But in that moment, several things happened. Like the shimmer itself, some of these things were subtle. Not all, but some.
Kathryn suddenly felt her helmet scrape the top of the corridor. She hadn't moved a step since the easily dismissed shimmer, but it was a definite tactile feeling of her head making contact with the low ceiling above.
Victoria noticed that her perspective had changed slightly. Nothing incredibly different, but just enough to be noticeable. That, and the cut of her light coat felt a hair different. Like a dimension about her had changed in a slight way.
Baronfjord didn't seem to gather any difference about himself, though he might have immediately picked up what had happened to the others - subsequent examination of himself revealed that his scales seemed a bit pluckier of hue, like he had his scales freshly shined.
Kosara had the most dramatic alteration - flowers now grew among her hair, as if they had always belonged there. Healthy, average representation of seasonal flowers of the area in nearly full bloom, making her hair a braided bouquet of color.
The party took what actions they required to come to grips with these alterations, but the room beyond still waited. The long and short of the place can be described as such: This was a thirty-five by twenty-five foot room with a lain brick floor. Rock walls with wooden supports held things together evenly enough, leading up to vaulted ceilings which, by look at the size of the roots which made up most of the ceiling, was directly underneath the great sycamore. The tree gave the room greater stability and likely was the reason that it was in as good condition as it was. There were several barrels in great condition and two large distilling tanks as soon as one entered, to the right. A few stacked crates were nearby, some with simple tools upon them, unused for long period of time. A thin layer of sediment and/or dust covered things here.
If one was concerned about feeling lonely, there's good news! Two corpses called this place home. Or they might, if not for the fact that they were quite dead. And they looked like they had been quite dead for a long time. Regardless, very dead Human remains tended to alter the nature of the discussion after the fact.
wanderingwolf
Pirouette
Arty Fox
Festive
Lewascan2
Shoe Thief
Natsu
Morose
