Sigil

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@rivaan@Shoe Thief@Sigil@Arty Fox

And here we are again. It's a pleasure to see all of you today, typing out the continuation of our shared adventure into almost certain drunkeness. But before we all get hammered with the wine lady's wine, let us appraise the situation. Laurent is kind of a dick. Lizbeth has all of the earmarks of an ambitious, coming-of-age heiress with a bent for learning how to hurt people, Cecily is ever the diplomat, and Barbal is an irritable, pint-sized shit disturber. But let us not dwell on the negative! The party is officially started, for however long a wine tasting lasts. Full disclosure, it is not the same thing as a kegger, just with wine.

For those of you sampling this wine, as it is the reason for the gathering, you will find it extraordinarily sweet and very full bodied. Imagine drinking alcoholic grape sugar that smells like flowers. Or if anyone is a fan of wines IRL, this would be something like a tawny port mixed with a late harvest sweet Riesling and left to age for five years. If it was thicker, you could top ice cream with it and not be fully out of bounds. Hence, there are palate cleansers on the table and things to eat.

Now then, there IS a 20 minute delay until this happens. Fill in thus time however you see fit (within reason) and don't forget a blurb or two about the NPC under your control. Remember, these minor writing side quests are all building toward something. Per our usual, get with me for questions, rulings, and die rolls. And enjoy the party just as much as you're able. 😈

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Rose River Vineyard

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Tasting Room

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L'Rose Winery Storage

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L'Rose Winery

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Gazebo Winery Entrance

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Weather: It is cold, but at least the winds have died down some. This reduction of wind allows for more substantial, puffier flakes of snow to form high above, drifting down in regular but slightly more spaced intervals. If one is properly outfitted for the temperature, it's actually rather pleasant.

Time: Early night. The sun has traveled fully across the the moors, giving a majestic outline of the mountains far beyond for a half a minute before enshrouding the landscape in mostly quiet darkness. It has been twenty minutes since the last update.

Ambience: It is mostly overcast as night deepens from dark purple into just dark. Were one to poke their head outside, they would see hanging lanterns, enough to provide ample illumination for those exiting to the main thoroughfare leading off of the Rose River Vineyard's grounds. The path back to the Coach House is somewhat less well lit.

Inside of the Tasting Room, the air is warm and heavy with the scents of the wine production process from the rooms around. One in the industry way find comfort in this, or may not even notice, instead fixating on the mild, earthy notes of cubed cheeses and thick bread which mix with sharper, sweeter accents of cut fruit, primarily local pears and apples. People speak among themselves, holding unobtrusive conversations among themselves, but all take appropriate moments to stop and stare when a social moment occurs, be it a small victory or touch of embarrassment. The place is well lit by candle and lamp both, giving a home-and-hearth touch to what is otherwise a room for plying the Wine Trade.

Eight thick, square pillars serve to provide support in this low and somewhat conspiratorial-seeming room, set behind the rooms hosting the grand enterprise of fine wine production. The lack of any exterior view supports the assumption that this room of the Estate House is encased within the hill rather than above it. There are exits to the ahead which lead farther into the professional areas of the structure, back the way you came (from the Winery), and to the side of the room behind a door with a particularly chunky lock inset. The light is ample enough to see everything with clarity despite the hour and depth, courtesy of oil lamps in key locations and tapered candles upon the table. The exits appear to be clearly visible, from the double-door point of ingress to the doors leading through to the next area, and the door with the chunky inset lock now identified as the late Monsieur L'Rose's personal study. All are closed at the present.

*****

Cecily waved away Baronfjord's apology, attempting to communicate with gestures and facial expression that it wasn't a point of insult, at least not one that she wished to address. "Think nothing of it, please. In truth, I have been meaning to go through my dear father-in-law's personal effects, but I fear i have been putting it off. I cannot say for certain why I have been compelled to. I guess I've just been throwing myself into Lizbeth's care and the business as of late." She shrugged, her wine glass still in hand, though one could catch the lingering look she gave the locked door before blinking and returning to the affairs at hand. This as well was put on hold for a moment as the Madame of the Estate followed up with the Dragonborn's question concerning the upcoming holiday. "Oh, more than likely not. The Master of Harvest is chosen among the workers gathered for a season, like an elected overseer. Frostval, at least for us, is for family and close friends. We keep our guests to the permanent residents of the Vineyard. Umm... Master Rens is always welcome to join us (for example), though he has his own family to celebrate with. Master Urmdrus, as well. And all of your people, too, as my guests. Though we do like to reach out to the community in other ways during the holiday."

Laurent was astute enough to know that he was being hammered upon in a very social manner, and in an exposed position. While these attempts to show him up were executed in different ways, one an overly direct, even hamfisted attempt, and the other a barrage of class divide demonstration, he could understood that this was not a point to continue pressing directly, not if he wished to save face or keep the peace at the wine tasting, a thing which would leave a poorer impression of the most financially well off grower in this region; Madame L'Rose. So he kept any response simple. To Kosara, even as she exited the situation, "Because of manners. We value them here." As to the words of Kathryn, "Of course. I'm sure I forget myself in all of the merrymaking. Do excuse me, Lady Kathryn." His eyes followed Kosara for a moment, then he swirled his wine glass under his nose and concluded, "I have a mild allergy to sulfur, understand."

The gentleman farmer used this excuse to mingle elsewhere, and as it turned out he found himself moving toward the company of the Mosswaters and Victoria. A polite greeting to the Halflings, others in his peer group of landed agricultural fellows, but his interest more went to the oddity that was a Half-Elf in fine attire with a violin case across her back. He attempted a touch more politeness with this one. "You are Victoria, yes? There was mention of discussing opinions of wine, if you're available. I am curious, first - your name is Belmont. That's a Human name. It's interesting. Better, are you just a wandering minstrel, or do you have formal training equal to the cut of the garb you're wearing here? Again, curiosity. I see that you at least keep highborn company. What do you do for these people?"

Having seen what each member of the adventuring party was capable of upon a battlefield (at least in part), to include Victoria, Tarace and Barbal both held a breath in anticipation of how the ongoing situation of Laurent's velvet boorishness would eventually be settled. In an attempt to deflect, the somewhat meeker Tarace offered, "Monsieur Laurent, maybe I should..."

Only to be interrupted by Barbal, overspeaking him with, "Good idea! Maybe you should get us a sample of the harvest pears on the other side of the table! There's a good fellow." The brash Halfling seemed to have a vested interest in the social clash between the agricultural elite of the region and the rare sight of adventurers in these parts.

The wait for Toombes continued for twenty more minutes, which seemed to tick by with unkind anticipation and a little bit of grumbling from Rens, Laurent, and the Mosswaters. Lizbeth seemed happy just to be involved in this gathering and had made her way over to the discussion in progress between Annick and Rens, who were speaking with passing familiarity. Ever the proper host, Cecily directed attention to herself with a raised voice. "It seems improper to hold up the actual tasting of the wine for the sake of one latecomer. I shall have to put out inquiry to make sure some little emergency did not take him from this event without notice. So please, everyone help yourself to a palate cleanser, and let us crack open a vintage that has not touched open air for the last five years. Yes, this is the Reserve Honigblume from half a decade's past harvest, set aside just as this year's will be for five years hence. Please grab a clean glass, and let us toast to the continued success of the Rose River Vineyard, continuing its decades long tradition of exceptional winecraft, under the direct oversight of Master Rens, and our founder, Monsieur Arnaud L'Rose. This is the result of their labors, and the hours of toil from the common folk of Avonshire."

Lizbeth uncorked and set to fill fresh glasses upon the table, pouring with precise movements and keeping the volume to a ruler-straight line across the whole of the glasses, ensuring an equal pour to everyone. The wine itself was colored like golden honey, clear as crystal with the small exception of oils blending themselves into the full glasses as it settled. A scent of concentrated fruity sugar leapt from the glasses, surpassing even the sharp notes of apple and pear upon the table. Cecily continued, "Whatever mingling or parlor games we might get up to over the course of the evening, we have the cask to ourselves. However, the first taste we all take together, with solemn respect for our people, the land, and the work put into it. Ladies and gentleman, noble and common alike, the Rose River Vineyard repays the honor of your presence with the Late Harvest Reserve Honigblume; the first sampling by anyone before it is put to market. Enjoy."

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Victoria Belmont Half-Elf, Bard, Level 5 HP: 33 / 33 Armor Class: 16 Conditions: N/A Location: Rose River Vineyard (Tasting Room) Action: N/A Bonus Action: N/A Reaction: N/A

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"Don't hit the wine too hard." 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 hit the wine too hard, but this was 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. "I'm afraid that dueling is not my game," began Victoria, offering, "Perhaps we might have a spelling contest?" She smiled openly and outwardly at her little joke, before turning to the somewhat more serious. "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." 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. "They're regulating themselves," 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, right then. 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. "Master Rens?" 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. "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." 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, "I shall have to convince you to tell me how you get that specific flavor that only comes from this vineyard. I can be quite convincing." 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, "thank you," 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. "Oh my, Madame L'Rose - Cecily - this is phenomenal."

Annick agreed, "This is very nice." But there was a hint of caution in her tone. "Pardon, Miss Belmont, I'm going to go talk to Rens for a minute."

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@rivaan@Shoe Thief@Sigil@Arty Fox

There's not a whole lot to say this time around with the update, not that hasn't been covered in the last one. Please continue to write for your Plus One as best you see fit, with the understanding that anything too "off" will get the High Holy Retcon from yours truly. So far, everything is extremely cool.

Otherwise, feel free to do what your character honestly thinks is reasonable, given the circumstances and their proclivities. And consider - these little assignments I suggest as we progress the story - they're not required, but they are building toward something.

Per our usual, please be in touch via Discord for all of your skill checks, questions, and questionable actions. Thanks again!

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Rose River Vineyard

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Tasting Room

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L'Rose Winery Storage

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L'Rose Winery

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Gazebo Winery Entrance

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Weather: With the deepening evening, a more solid cold sets into Vineyard. Outside, the first signs of flurries set in right as the sun makes it to the horizon and twilight deepens the evening in beautiful, yet ominous ways. The wind passes in short, almost regular gusts across the hills, prompting a sudden horizontal path to the flurries before they continue their delicate fall earthward.

Time: Twilight. Dusk is upon you all, and the things which go bump in the night rise to greet the darkness.

Ambience: Eight thick, square pillars serve to provide support in this low and somewhat conspiratorial-seeming room, set behind the rooms hosting the grand enterprise of fine wine production. The lack of any exterior view supports the assumption that this room of the Estate House is encased within the hill rather than above it. There are exits to the ahead which lead farther into the professional areas of the structure, back the way you came (from the Winery), and to the side of the room behind a door with a particularly chunky lock inset. The light is ample enough to see everything with clarity despite the hour and depth, courtesy of oil lamps in key locations and tapered candles upon the table.

The central table has chairs enough for all present to sit, even though they were pushed all the way in and everyone was standing. The table bore several candles and enough in the way of simple foodstuffs; bread, fruit, and cheese, to accent and cleanse the palates of those choosing to enjoy the product of generations of labors. Casks and stands of bottles of notable wines bearing the Rose River label line the walls of this room. Some were tapped - others were not. The general din of the room was quietish, a series of low volume conversations between the few people present.

*****

The feel of the evening took a sudden, awkward downturn as various pieces of conversation came to light. To the casual observer, it looked very much like Monsieur Laurent had gotten just a bit of snubbing from the newcomers to the area. This was not something that he was accustomed to, from the look of his reaction. It was a controlled, subdued reaction, but the first second or two caught him with some surprise. He recovered as best he could, though one could say that he looked flummoxed. The truth of it was that most of the people present were either unaware of his attempt at classist sarcasm or has grown so accustomed to his mannerisms that they didn't recognize his aim until it was pointed out by the presence of actual nobility. "Yes, certainly," began the man, thrusting out a hand in a more official greeting. "Your and your, ah, retainers have done my family a service, absolutely. Perhaps I might send a token of favor to your husband, or your father (if m'lady is unwed) to show my appreciation." He stopped, as if taken by a sudden, brilliant idea, "Perhaps, if you plan on making a more permanent settling in the moors of Avonshire, I might have some of my people assist your establishment in the area. I'm sure nobility from Arcanaple would find it prudent to diversify their holdings."

A guttural sound erupted from the other side of the table. Close inspection would prove it to be a hoarse laugh issuing from Barbal Mosswater, before his companion slapped a quick hand over the suddenly jolly Halfling's mouth. Tarace gave a nervous smile, and gestured with his free hand something to the effect of carry on, even as Barbal was trying to push the hand away, mumbling something about "meeting the genuine article," and "hey pal, your fly's open, too."

Lizbeth shrugged and looked to her new, adventurous friends, reasoning that it was, "only unseemly if you allowed it to be." The past month seemed to have been really good for her. The party originally met her as a small, scared girl who had just lost her grandfather and survived a Goblin attack, but now she was demonstrating more confidence in both herself and her ability to participate in a situation, rather than just survive it. In fact, is was she who broke the tension in the room when Baronfjord mentioned the locked door off to the side. Credit where it was due, she spoke openly enough about it but did not go into much detail. "That is, well, that was Grandfather's Study. We weren't allowed in there. He made sure we knew."

Seemingly trying to smooth things over, Cecily added in almost forced nonchalance, "Yes, he spent a lot of time in there working on ...whatever he was working on. If he wasn't there, he went and sequestered himself in the old Coach House for days at a time, doing what he did to keep the Rose River Vineyard producing. And what a job he did!" People present murmured their approval. He did indeed run a fine Vineyard, by everyone's accounting. "But for right now, I think that we should pour a glass to Monsieur Arnaud L'Rose! Not the Honigblume, mind, we're still missing a couple of guests." She contemplated the stuff from around the room, until she settled on a cluster of bottles that looked recently sealed. "I have taken the initiative and fortified one of our casks of reserved Zinnoberrot with the brandy recovered by Those Who Answered (are you really going with that name?) from an abandoned distillery on the grounds. I haven't a good name for it yet, but I am very pleased with the flavor. If you would please take up a glass?" She motioned for Lizbeth to decant the bottles, which the younger L'Rose got to with practiced ability.

As the wine breathed a bit, the entrance doors swung open to admit a somewhat portly, middle-aged Human with salt-and-pepper hair and a serious-looking mobius moustache. He was dressed more like a clerk than a noble. A decently stitched coat and not un-dapper hat lay across one arm. He had rosy cheeks and a boisterous laugh, both of which were demonstrated as he openly blurted, "I MADE IT, MADAME L'ROSE!" He huffed a little and shook his head.

Cecily introduced the man, "This is our Master of Wines, Rens. He has been with us for the last ...fifteen years now? Yes. Master Rens, you know most of these people, but here are the adventurers we spoke about. And you have met Medician Floquet, yes? Of course you have." She thought for a moment, "I thought you were coming with Toombes? He was picked for Master of Harvest this year, yes?"

Rens bobbed his head to the affirmative. "Yes, that's him. I don't know where he is. He didn't meet at the spot we agreed on, and I didn't want to be late, so here I am! I'm sure he'll be along. Probably got his brother to tattoo another bunch of grapes on his hide." To those new or unfamiliar with the man, Rens explained, "The workers choose a Master of Harvest every season. He's responsible for managing his people to bring in the crop. Toombes gets chosen quite a bit. Real man of the land, that one. Gets tattooed every time he brings in a good crop. Anyway... What're we drinking, Madame L'Rose?"

In response, Cecily handed the man a glass of the new blended Zinnoberrot, saying, "Not the Honigblume. Let us wait for another ten minutes for Toombes. This is the new Fortified I have been working on." And then as a general call for attention, the Lady of the Manor tapped her glass and announced, "Everyone please, glasses up! Let us take a small toast to Monsieur Arnaud L'Rose! Founder and master of the Rose River Vineyard, beloved father and grandfather; never one like him shall exist hence."

The others in attendance echoed the sentiment, "MONSIEUR L'ROSE," and sipped accordingly.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Victoria Belmont Half-Elf, Bard, Level 5 HP: 33 / 33 Armor Class: 16 Conditions: N/A Location: Rose River Vineyard (Coach House -> Tasting Room) Action: Familiar Stuff, Morty Bonus Action: N/A Reaction: N/A

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It had been a busy, but ultimately fulfilling past few weeks. Knowledge that Victoria had been busy penning her own, personal medical library was fairly liberating. While her progress did not go any faster, it was taken on with a greater sense of gratitude and optimism. If anything, her writing got slightly more tidy, her lines a hair more distinct. Tracings of diagrams were set to with gusto. She was working on something which she might reference in her continued studies of medical and anatomical sciences. It was at this moment that she felt a second part of gratitude; this time to her father who insisted that a much younger (but no less troublesome) Victoria spend serious study time with her tutors. Taking a whetstone to her wit had been useful as a child, and while she was no amazingly innovative mind, the lady was smarter than your average traveling minstrel. This helped her greatly in her present studies.

But in time, these too had to be put away for her true passion - socialization. Rubbing elbows with what passed for aristocracy in this area, particularly in a wine-tasting event was exactly the kind of thing she was comfortable doing in her "off hours." If she looked at the event with the eyes of a potential social climber, then this wine tasting would form the base level of soiree for her to attend, seeing as the host was of a similar social strata to her own family, common-born, wealthy, property holding persons of professional background. While the L'Rose family was agricultural winemaking, Victoria's own were mercantile and artistic people. She might have longed for the day that she would take over after her parents retired, prompting her to hire managers to handle her affairs and keep her to her truer passions while the unspoken threat of something breathtakingly horrible as a consequence of disloyalty maintained their honesty. However, the flaw to this whole line of thinking (concerning the party, at any rate) was that there were no ladders to climb here. If Cecily represented the highest placed person present, then she had no reason to deliberately ingratiate herself to others. Perhaps this meant that she might just enjoy herself. Imagine that.

Victoria did try to give the benefit of her expertise to the others in her adventuring party. While the thought it might have been the most difficult to assist Kathryn, owing to a general rarity of any displays of upper-class mannerisms, she found that it was actually not so bad. She did have a good base, owing to her lineage. Also, she did possess what could be called a "noble bearing," even if this might be different from grander region to grander region. When she was asked to help Kathryn with her cosmetics, Victoria was happy to help. Eager, even. So the much smaller woman went upstairs to grab her abundant performance kit, a mirror, and some accoutrements, to quickly return downstairs and get to it. It didn't take long at all to apply a decent foundation and accent a few natural highlights. She even gave decent advice on how to move forward, like, "Those cheekbones are glorious, Kathryn. Let's bring those out and draw some attention to your eyes," and, as she readied a small pair of tweezers, "Eyebrows. There should be two of them." Victoria gave the slightest giggle as she worked. "This will be beautiful, just beautiful. I'm doing all but the most final touches now. Then your hair. Then we get the details before we leave. Always check for a touch-up before you walk out the door, and as this is a wine tasting, we're going to keep the lips minimal." Before she began to work on the hair, Victoria leaned back and beamed a smile down to her physically tankier associate. She pitched her voice a little lower of octave and half-whispered, "Oh my, there's our Lady Kathryn."

Interaction with Kosara went a little differently. She only asked for advice, not help, and so was responded to with this in mind. However, she did not quite maintain the colder eye of one giving professional critique as she saw how the bubbly Warlock had dressed herself. "That is quite the dress, Kosara. And I positively adore the alterations. You make it look like it was designed for the Tiefling physique. And I so love this cut; alluring without being insistent. Between you and Kathryn, I'm afraid that I shall simply not stand out this evening." She leaned her head forward and cut into a faux quiet voice, "I must rely purely on personality rather than just a pretty face. In seriousness, you look like an illumination from a storybook. You might be making me jealous, I think." The smile he gave was warm and even a little disarming.

The smile came to a somewhat confused lopside as she looked to Baronfjord. "If I am being honest, Master Chedgusah? Hmm... You do not have skin that will readily accept the cosmetics I have with me. You have no head hair for me to style. And your clothing is the rugged sort of traveler's garb that has seen a respectable amount of the road and an equal amount of steadfast care from loving hands. I would put this attire in a chest with a fine blade and healing elixir for the next time adventure calls, and be honored to do so. However much of a place of honor it deserves, I cannot in good conscience recommend any level of accessorizing which might make this suitable for anything but a casual affair." Victoria hoped that this rather diplomatic form of expression carried her point across without being insulting. She was usually good at things of this nature, even if one couldn't be too careful. "Perhaps an array of wraps? Or something neutral of color that will allow the greater, azure luster of your heritage to display foremost?" This was the longest string of words she had used in a while to essentially say "I don't know," but to be fair, vanity might have been a weak point for her.

The appointed hour for the wine tasting was drawing near, and Victoria took it upon herself to ease into the social situation by partaking of another of the Rose River Vineyard's products - this one a little older and more expressive of spirit. She took up one of her teacups and made her way to the cask, pouring out a couple of ounces of the potent liquid within. The flavor was exactly as she had been sampling for the past few weeks; angelically smooth with a hint of rising darkness. She then turned to offer any to those assembled with a broad statement, "Would anyone care to join me for a drink of something questionable before we're off?" After all, it was amazing brandy. That fact alone almost completely made up for the very real possibility of incredibly specific nightmares.

When the time came to depart for the event, Victoria was surprised to see that Cecily and Lizbeth both showed up to escort them. It felt out of place as they were the hosts, though Victoria supposed that things were probably handled a little differently in this part of the realm. Still, they were a welcome sight. She extended welcome greetings appropriate to the situation, even gifting the both of them with a curtsy. "Think nothing of it, Madame L'Rose. I am at your immediate service, of course." The last part was a polite bit of banter, manners might dictate saying so despite a lack of willingness to actually work for her that evening. "And Mademoiselle Lizbeth! You look like quite the lady!" A sly smile formed on the Bard's face, "...and I love that belt."

Victoria handed off her sword to Morty, who was detached from the errand cart usually present during travel times or shopping trips about town. She issued a mental command to prime the smoky, meaty thrall to respond to a stimulus. Then she summoned her Raven and did the same. Preparations complete in case of some emergency or another, Victoria allowed herself to be led onward, toward her first society function in far too long. Trailing behind her was the faintest scent of spiced lavender.

The quick tour of the Winery, proper, was a source of interest for the young Half-Elf. She had seen these kinds of things before on her travels, but never this well put together and never this far away from an urban area or main trade route. It was artistic as well as industrious, and the fact that Lizbeth appeared to feel perfectly at home here was impressive. Maybe one day soon, she would be exactly the right person to take over her family's business. It stood in stark contrast to the Belmont's holdings back home, in that there was a craft being crafted here, and masterfully so. Back in Ashhaven (and places beyond on major trade routes), her own people had warehouses in varying degrees of business, dockside offices, etc. Her parents were merchants. Traders. Movers of existing product from one place to another for a profit. The product was essentially dispassionate, even if the experiences upon the road were not. This place felt alive. And that thought brought with it a feeling of irony.

When Lizbeth opened the final door after what was a truly grand look at a well-respected winery, Victoria stepped through at her convenience. Immediately a look of delight spread across her face as she saw the familiar faces of Tarace and Barbal, be their association om the road fairly short in comparison to others, and noted the presence of the man introduced as Monsieur Laurent. The prospect laid out bluntly before them of a reward was accepted without much in the way of personal insight, and she responded to the introduction in an open but mostly formal manner. "Monsieur Laurent, it is an honest pleasure to put a face to the name. You have some truly lovely farmland. Spacious, ample. And naught but the tiniest difficulty with oxen-sized mantids." She extended her hand and offered, "Please forgive, I am quite enamored with the circumstance of the evening. I am called Miss Victoria Belmont, of the Ashhaven Belmonts, and it is my privilege to make your acquaintance." The smile remained, genial and proper as usual, but her eyes found another person she wished to speak with. "We should share our opinions on the wine later, but for now I simply must give my salutations elsewhere. Please excuse me."

The other salutations were intended for the Mosswaters, but she had her eye out for her personal guest. She said that she would be there, but nothing yet. It wasn't until she was midpoint to the Halfling farmers that her Plus One revealed herself from the far side of a column. "Annick! I am happy you could make it." Victoria strode over the remaining two paces to give her a light hug. Informal at best, but this was with purpose. The Medician was her mentor, and indeed her better, while they were training. But as she never signed any apprenticeship papers and this was a mercantile exchange of service for knowledge, they were equals in this place. Victoria wanted her to establish this dynamic immediately. She was no cup-bearer in what was temporarily her home as well. "So, Madame Floquet, what do you make of that very interesting door over there?"

Annick did not seem to be annoyed by the sudden informality. The almost perpetual scowl was even subdued upon the older woman's face. She seemed dressed for trouble or travel more than anything else. Finery was not part of her her style, but solidly comfortable and utilitarian garb was. Clean and slightly worn black boots peeked out from beneath long skirts of charcoal grey. A matching cowl and armslit cloak hung about her strong, slender frame and halfway covered an ivory colored top with off-center buttons, and a belt with what appeared to be a tool pouch or sporran upon it overlapped a fringed, hunter green wrap. Her thick, wavy, grey hair was pulled up and back with a silvery comb and dangerous-looking hairpin. Without any trace of formality whatsoever, Annick peered questioningly as her student before answering, "I don't know. I have never been in here before. Nobody puts a door like that in a gathering place unless they're keeping something away from folks." She studied Victoria again, intoning in a quiet, sharp voice, "Hey. Don't hit the wine too hard. Stories about this place recently... Just don't blur your magic, right?"

Victoria's response was jovial to the point of sarcasm, "You're going to be a lot of fun tonight. I can tell." The smile remained on her face as she spoke, which no longer reached her eyes. It served to give some camouflage to the discreet wink.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@rivaan@Shoe Thief@Sigil@Arty Fox

And we have finally arrived! Huzzah for tue next planned event, and the onward progression of the Current Clack therein! Let's get business out of the way first, shall we?

- If you are bringing along an NPC as your Plus One to the event, great! They can show up at any time, from being with you in the Coach House for a little pre-gaming before the party, to any point anong the way in. If nothing is noted, they will be waiting in the Tasting Room for you all.

- NPCs as Plus Ones do break our rule about players not speaking for named NPCs. Please don't abuse this. If I think it's going a little too far off, I'll step in and course correct. When in doubt, send me a message and we will sort it out. No big deal.

- And again, if you wish for your character to opt out of the event, let me know and provide an alternate task for them to perform in the interim. They may skip out on this task, or consider it completed in one form or another, should minds change and they want to he there. Some call it "Splitting The Party," but I much prefer the more daunting, "Giving Possible Antagonists Opportunities."

...not that you have anyone being antagonistic out there, lurking in the dark, right? Right? Nah, you'll be okay. You're on your vacation in wine country!

Speaking of opportunities, don't forget to attempt some social ones. We have a new face here as well as a couple old acquaintances, in addition to your Plus Ones. Have fun with it. Per usual, hit me up in our Discord for questions, die rolls, or rulings. Thanks!

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Rose River Vineyard

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Tasting Room

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L'Rose Winery Storage

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L'Rose Winery

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Gazebo Winery Entrance

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* We have resolved the events of the time skip and are now up to date. *

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. These lights now stood absent, after the final harvest was taken in and the grapes processed.

*****

The evening of the Honigblume tasting is upon you all. It was a much anticipated event among the staff of the Rose River Vineyard, but not because of the possibility of attending the event itself. In fact, this is a very limited attendance affair of only a dozen or so. No, the draw from among the greater workforce of the wine tasting is the delivery of the year's end payment, which was enough to last them into the coming spring. Extra, if you helped bring in the late harvest. This was not a trade secret. Rather, this was what was on many people's minds and conversations as the day drew nearer. Upon said day, if only for a two hour span of time, the Vineyard felt almost as busy as any other workday earlier in the year.

Since the fleeting conversation between Baronfjord and Cecily, the Matron of the Estate had been distant, seeking mostly to take care of the needs of her guests through intermediaries and keeping things polite but short if she dealt with matters in person. Any request for small luxury items or specific foodstuffs (within reason) was handled by the lady, and she did not restrict Lizbeth from associating with the party in the slightest, but she herself kept at arm's length. This persists until the very evening of the wine tasting event. Upon this evening, Cecily L'Rose arrived to the Coach House escort the party to the gathering personally.

Cecily was resplendent in her neatly pressed, corseted white blouse and blue floral mantle with matching skirts. Cosmetics were applied with a careful, competent hand, as was her hair which was neatly arranged in an elegant, partially braided updo. Those with experience in such things will note that her entire ensemble paints her not as a member of the nobility in any way, but an obviously moneyed member of a more middle class social strata. That is to say, despite the quality of her outfit she did not have a chambermaid to attend to frills nor to cinch petticoats.

Lizbeth joined her, similarly attired but with her makeup bolder and a bit less expertly done. As an interestingly stylish choice, the girl had the late Constable's whip wound around herself in the manner of a cord belt, whether or not her aunt noticed was up for debate. A hint of green might be viewed from underneath her high-collared linen shirt if she bent in just the right way, and the heiress-in-waiting was bedecked in what appeared to be a newly made, hooded, grey-purple split cape. She looked like she was borrowing styles of dress from her aunt and their adventurous guests equally. The young lady might be accused of attempting to find herself by imitating others to see what stuck, as youth is oft to do.

It was Cecily who spoke up first, giving warm, evening greetings and offering to usher the party to the Tasting Room, within the depths of the Estate House, proper. This would have made it the first time that such an offer was extended. "I do apologize for not giving a tour at an earlier time. Things have been so busy as of recently that it wasn't feasible. But tonight is a very special night, and your presence is long overdue." She gave a smile readily, if it did seem just a little nervous. "But come along now! We have a big surprise for you all. Don't we, Lizbeth?"

The younger L'Rose gave a supportive nod and motioned for everyone to follow. "We sent out formal invitations, including as you noted," she said, glancing back as they went along. "Almost everyone responded that they were coming. Even so, this is a pretty small gathering. Aunt CeeCee even said I could stay for most of it this year!" She looked almost giddy at this idea, as if she were finally getting a seat at the adult's table for the holiday feasts.

Instead of leading everyone to the main doors of the Estate House, a sharp turn was taken to being them to the second gazebo from the main building - not the one within which the two physical powerhouses of the party held their contest of martial prowess, but the one with a large circular trapdoor leading to a massive cellar beneath. The stairs were carved from stone and had wide, sturdy wooden guardrails on either side, suitable to bear considerable weight with generational ease. At the bottom of these stairs was a relaxing little atrium with more temperate tolerating plants providing a bit of freshness to a mostly underground setting, well tended by talented gardeners. "I don't know if your explorations have led you down here before," Cecily began to explain, "But through these doors is where the magic happens. Oh, not literally, mind - but we handle all of our fermentation, aging, and bottling on site, underneath the grounds and the Estate House. Everything is kept as constant of environment as we can control, ensuring reliable, repeatable quality from year to year."

Through the double doors ahead and into a vast room lit by grapeseed oil lamps, it was impossoible not to see a series of massive vats in a series with careworn but maintained wooden stairs leading above to walkways framing them. A few scattered barrels stood to one side or another, in an organization likely known to the professionals employed here. There was the sweet-sour aroma of fruit fermentation about, in rising or fallign levels depending upon where one stood within this place. Floors alternated between ceramic tile and packed sawdust. The sheer volume of wine that could be made in this place was difficult to fathom. Cecily continued. "This is the Winery proper. We produce enough base product to take care of our region's demand easily, due to its lower population relative to more citied areas. While it pays our workers and gives us enough money to comfortably live on, it is due to vintages like our Fortified Zinnoberrot and Honigblume as export products that we make our real money. Monsieur Arnaud L'Rose set this up over eighty years ago, and our techniques along with superior grape-growing procedures have seen remarkable success from the very beginning. The L'Rose Family has been truly blessed these decades since." Cecily stopped short for a half second, as if debating the veracity of her last statement. "Well, recent years have been less gilded. But Lizbeth still stands to inherit a bustling vinophilic dynasty."

Moving onward, the next room was almost as large as the first but wall-to-wall stacked high with barrels, casks, bottles in racks, and the like - all organized by year, type, and other factors to make them easily referenced. Lighting in here was less constant, highlighting mainly places where one might have to turn a corner or where stumbling blindly would lead to disaster. Burned into the sides of casks were words that many a wine drinker would know, and some that they might not unless they were in the trade. It was more stable of temperature in here, even more than the previous room, and the scent much more neutral. "Here is where our wine is stored and aged. When it is time to move them elsewhere or load them for sale upriver, they begin their final journey there to the left, where is loaded into wagons for regional transportation, or river barges for export." Cecily had taken the role of tour guide easily. She had made this speech many times, to hear her talk.

"Oh, the Tasting Room is up here!" exclaimed Lizbeth. "C'mon, we're almost there!" She jogged ahead, making it to the doors to the far side of the room. She waited until everyone had caught up before throwing them open and ushering everyone in with a grand flourish. "The Tasting Room!" This was a much smaller room than the two previous, dominated by thick, square support columns and a wide, well polished table. Upon the table was a simple, deep red tablecloth which covered just enough to give a buffer between several carafes of wine, various cut bits of different cheeses, a few different types of late blooming apple and pear, and thick, crusty bread common to the region. Small vases of wildflowers decorated the feast of finger-accessible consumables, and both chairs and exquisite wine glasses were evenly spaced around the table.

There were others here, too. Not many, but Cecily took the time to point out only a select few. Two of them were already known to the group; one was not. "Barbal and Tarace Mosswater, I am sure you remember," declared Cecily, motioning to the two Halfling farm owners. "But this man you might not have met yet." She walked over to a rather tall Human, who appeared to be in his late forties or early fifties, clean shaven and of steel-grey hair. He wore a simple suit and waistcoat of black wool, and a long, fur-lined brown coat lay over the back of the chair he stood nonchalantly beside. "This is Monsieur Laurent. It was his farm on which you battled the Ankhegs. Even scared them into submission - and I should know. I was there as witness!" The last part was aimed more at her fellow agriculturalist than the party.

There were a few doors leading out of this room, all of which were closed up with the exception of the one everyone just entered from. While all were closed innocently enough, only one was bound with a chunky, black iron lock - this one being the only door on the right-hand wall. Oddly, everyone seemed to be facing more or less away from it. This detail aside, Cecily remained ever the good hostess, remarking, "Monsieur Laurent is a grain and sheep farmer, though he would be little more than a man who grows fine sorghum and wheat were you all not to have handled his ...insect problem? Yes, insect problem as handily as you all did."

The older man leaned upon a respectably expensive looking cane as he approached the members of the party, extending his other hand. In a rural-proper but slightly stiff voice, he intoned, "Yes. Gratitude is in order. I hope I might make a contribution to your efforts before you have to leave, in appreciation. Certainly. What is the going rate for Ankheg hunting these days, hmm?"

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Victoria Belmont Half-Elf, Bard, Level 5 HP: 33 / 33 Armor Class: 16 Conditions: N/A Location: Rose River Vineyard, Southmoor, and parts around Action: N/A Bonus Action: N/A Reaction: N/A

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Victoria was listening in. Obviously, she was listening in. Supportive reasons might have included a desire to make sure Kathryn wasn't getting into any trouble with a lady who, despite having launched handily in to her middle years (for a Human), was an experienced soldier with issues involving trust. Or maybe it was paranoia. Victoria was not amazingly well versed in psychology; her ability to influence others came mostly from social skills, so she could only react, if it came down to an incident. Selfish reasons for eavesdropping were more straightforward: She was curious if any of the information was relevant to her inquiries, and she wanted to see if they spoke about her at all. As it turned out, there was just the one, passing remark that she was certain was a dig at her. After all, Victoria was objectively the prettiest Necromancer that she'd ever heard of, herself.

So yes, Victoria listened. And she worked. It was quiet, indoor labor, they kind that one might do at a hum (unless they wanted to eavesdrop). Two things stuck out in their conversation. The first one being that she wasn't a huge fan of their new knives. She stopped for a moment, unsheathing her new acquisition. It was better balanced, harder, and sharper than just about any short blade she had held before. Moreso even than the one she acquired from her father, which was a perfectly serviceable item. It was probably best not to call attention to the weapon. She replaced it in on her belt near her first dagger and continued her work.

The second thing which caught her curiosity was mention that the Alhazred may have left things behind elsewhere in the realms. Perhaps that included knowledge which she might use to enhance her own abilities, so long as she could sort through the more unsavory bits and stick to the lore. Yes, Adventurers might have stumbled into something awful from years past, not knowing what it was until it was too late, but Victoria had skills that made her useful in identifying and/or avoiding the worst of these things. With a little luck and foresight, anyway. Short of making her way to the Southern Deserts and dressing herself in local attire and passing herself off as a sage of some type, present to both seek and share knowledge... Which honestly, didn't seem like such a bad idea, so long as their peoples were not engaging in conflict at the moment.

Victoria made a mental note. This could be a viable idea. She already possessed the requisite knowledge and might not have to be dishonest in the slightest. But back to the present.

Once her upkeep work for the day was done, Victoria approached her mentor with a sense of personal interest, maybe even something akin to friendliness. "Medician Floquet? If you would be as kind, this does not relate to my work." A quirked eyebrow from the older woman prompted Victoria to continue. "I don't know if you know, but, the L'Roses apparently have an annual wine tasting event for the winter harvest grapes. I was invited to attend, and encouraged to invite someone, myself. The term for this in Ashhaven is a 'Plus One,' if you're not familiar. I haven't really gotten to know anyone outside of my group except for you and Annabelle, and I also have not expressed my appreciation for your patience and tutoring these weeks, so... Would you like to be my Plus One?"

When it was time to close shop for the day, Victoria left with a sense of social accomplishment.

Returning to the Coach House and doing a bit of decompression was a high priority in addition to the other issues of the day. But whatever this was, it wasn't accelerating into something truly messy just yet. And there was more to look into with their new spoils. Upon checking over the clothing she set aside for herself (just the outfits she favored in particular, not the bulk quarter share she would claim out of general principle), Victoria chose a couple items and layered them with some of her existing articles of clothing that found fashionable and appropriate to the weather. It was around this point that she noticed the burial shrouds - the ones that were suitable for direct necromantic enchantment, had been gotten into. Moreover, one had been ...cut into... and while she could not, with any good conscience, lay claim to everything in the hopes of performing some grand act of creation or magic, it felt a little strange that someone already made and enacted plans for this fabric without further discussion. She eyed her companions suspiciously, but thought better of an inquisition, let alone a confrontation. Instead, the Bard quietly folded up one of the black sheets and one of the white ones, then stored them at the bottom of her belongings. There was more to these things, Victoria believed, than she had initially established. More study was required before they were reduced to scrap.

So far as Victoria was aware, she was ready for the wine tasting. Clothing was tasteful and gorgeous without being gaudy or overly formal, plus easy to move in, should the need call for it. Intentionally, the Bard decided to leave her rather militant, silvered rapier behind. Knives and magic would suffice, again should the need call for it. Additionally, this was a lighthearted social gathering. There was always pretext available to keep a musical instrument or two upon her person. She was interested to hear confirmation to her recollections about this region and its celebration of Frostval. For anyone unaware, she explained aloud, "A mostly Human celebration of gift giving in the coldest time of the year, when the days are shorter and nights have a firmer hold upon the land. Every land celebrates it a little differently, but it usually involves family and community, good will to strangers and travelers, and veneration of certain deities. We celebrate Frostval back home. Even the Elves there like to participate, if they are around - and they think most Human customs are silly." The very last part might have been an exaggeration. Victoria had an optimistic glow about her, like she was looking forward to the coming festivities. "So, who are we all bringing for our 'Plus Ones?' Or shall we keep it a surprise until we all arrive?"

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@rivaan@Shoe Thief@Sigil@Arty Fox

I have made the mistake of giving a LOT of time for things in the background to amass which needs to be resolved. Bit off more than i could chew, so to speak. As of now, there are a few things which deserve more direct attention before we move along to the event. AND SO, this update and subsequent posts in this cycle will be dealing with those things, at the end of which will be the introduction to the event for all parties attending. Please let me know what your characters are getting up to if not in attendance for the tasting of the (totally not cursed) late harvest icewine.

The more astute of you will notice that the headers, ambience, time, and weather are identical. This is on purpose, as we are covering stuff that needed extra attention over the skip. If we could, let's try to finish up the time skip stuff in this post and wind up back in the appropriate time/setting at the end of our individual texts.

The stuff that could be answered in Discord has been, and we should be good moving forward between that and the IC stuff. BUT, i am the mistake-making type on occasion, so if I missed something, we can handle it OOC. For now, do process all of the awful stuff provided, and if your characters were not present for whatever moments were mentioned in the update, do get with the other characters in the IC to give a quick explanation. Thank you, and have a spiffy posting cycle.