Sigil

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.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Rose River Vineyard

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Coach House

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* The time skip was for three weeks. This post is, in part, during that skip. *

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.

*****

Healer's Home

The rather antisocial Medician Floquet was kind enough to give Kathryn an audience, if indeed kindness was the appropriate motivating factor here. She was a slender, fit lady in her mid-fifties with a voluminous head of thick, grey hair, attired decently for a lady living the rural life, but maintaining her modesty with long skirts, long sleeves on a fitting, keyhole neckline top, and a dark grey cloak draped about her shoulders. She listened to the introductions given by Kay and wordlessly waved her inside, where she might have gotten a glimpse of Victoria, vastly overdressed for the task of maintaining tools and organizing books. In the next room, a particularly wet cough broke the relative quiet, a noise which prompted a younger version of the matronly Medician to grab up a few things in a basket and leave the room. Annick and Kathryn were alone now in a smallish room with a long, wooden table dominating the center and literature along the walls.

She waited for Kathryn to run through her questions, opting for a pause to answer. "You should stop trying to flatter me. Doesn't help." It didn't prevent her from accepting the offerings of yummy things, though. And she did continue, "Notables from the war still alive? Alive is a hell of a statement. More than half were dead when we fought them. No, I know what you mean. The Big Lich Master was sent to the Abyss by a Half-Elf fellow - Priest of some sort - and his friends. 'Spearhead of the Southern Campaigns', like we didn't do our part, too. Can't fault him though, he did kill him permanent. That was a long time ago and I was a conscripted forward area Medician. Field intelligence wasn't my thing. Sure, a lot of them might still be around. Folks like me, Sheriff Arbalest, Robert (the Innkeeper), and Constable Cavendish are still around." She gave a single, wry laugh. "Well, not the Constable. You all saw to that." Addressing the question about connection to this area, she gave a rather flat, "No. Heard a rumor there was supposed to be enemy troop movement through here. Never did happen, according to the locals." She gave a thoughtful look, then dismissed it.

When Kathryn handed her the dagger recovered from the "diplomatic envoy," Annick's face hardened. "Yeah, I know what they look like. Saw enough of 'em, not as nice as this one. Real fancy. Makes me curious how you came by it." She began to conversationally withdraw at this point. "So you want to know if I know any Necromancers around from the war? There are hundreds." The older lady glanced in the direction of the room Victoria was working in, continuing, "Some prettier than others. Some new ones that learned from the ones that passed. So many that we didn't crush or stab that got away. Let me tell you something, Lady Kathryn, it's called the Necromantic Wars, plural. What ended forty, fifty years back wasn't the first one. What ended twenty years ago wasn't the last one. There's a lot of good people in the Southern Deserts and the mountains beyond, but every so often, something rises to power and holds the living hostage with their dead, and then all of them decide to expand. More of you Adventurers than anyone likes to admit meet a wet, sticky end by coming across something they left behind, or a remnant of their power that hid really well north of here. I hope I answered your questions 'cause I'm not feeling too comfortable right now, so unless you need medical attention or want to buy something, I think our meeting's at a close."

Baronfjord's talks with Cecily fared a little better, if one looked at it from the angle of optimism. The proposal of a walk was taken openly. She even had a look on her face like she was expecting something conversationally heavy to land on her at any moment. Madame L'Rose pulled a rich burgundy-colored cloak over her layered tan linens and black damask waistcoat, hard-soled boots tapping occasionally on the flagstone walkway. She listened quietly, not reacting except to form tears in her eyes which she dabbed away with a clean, white kerchief. "I know that Lizbeth knows. She... she knows more than I want to tell myself." Her voice was quiet. Conspiratorial, even. "I could only trust her to move Arnaud's corpse. One must never let a body stay on these lands too long at night. It's why we had to risk moving him to the Township ourselves. Then, as you know, the Goblins, they..."

A wave came from one of the outbuildings, followed by a call to Cecily by name. It was something about rising acid and a sourish note coming from one of the vats. Cecily took sudden and especial interest in this, possibly relieved to break away from the conversation. As she began to beeline to her employee, she turned back to intone, "I don't know about any agreement, but it sounds like you handled it anyway! Maybe we're through with whatever this is, and we can just concentrate on the season, right? Sure. Please excuse me; perhaps we can pick this up the next time we have a moment. Oh, and please do continue training Lizbeth! She seems really motivated to learn. It certainly won't hurt anything. Thank you!" She hastily made her way to one of the L'Rose's winemakers, intent on focusing her attention on a problem that she could actually solve.

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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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...

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@rivaan@Shoe Thief@Sigil@Arty Fox

Hello again, Edgelords and M'bladies, and welcome to another amazing opportunity to figure out what the hell's going on in lovely, quiet wine country. This update gives us a time skip and a liiiittle bit of homework. But to kick things off with some clarifications:

The time, ambience, and weather portions of the update describe what is going on as of the evening of the nigh epic wine tasting, with the exception of the lit braziers (more of a coverage of the time in between). Their absence is discussed in the body of the post. Throughout the three weeks of the time skip, conditions will vary. Feel free to put whatever conditions you like as you describe your down time, so long as it is narratively responsible.

Last time skip, I asked you to describe a low point, lull, or failure that led to a learning experience in your studies and/or training. This time, I would like to see a success. Tell me how your characters overcame something, finished something, or otherwise did good and learned something useful from it. Or just an overall, feel-good example of genuine progress. Pretend a 1980s or 90s movie montage song is playing and really dig in.

OKAY - Good News: Urmdrus is done with Kathryn's armor. It looks damn spiffy. Hard as steel plates, flexible, and light. Very light, as compared to normal stuff. Taken alone, it might count as Half Plate, but layered with her mail long coat? PLATE. Congrats. You got plate equivalent at level 5. You're going to need it. Eventually. Again, he will remind that a sufficiently powerful spellcaster can easily turn this into armor of Acid Resistance. Oh, and I hope she likes green, shiny armor that was tempered with the urine of both friends and strangers. No, not kidding.

Further, within the passing of this time, further checks may be made WITHOUT Disadvantage on the things from before. In the instances of Kosara and Victoria (Kosara being from this area and Victoria's background Bardy knowledge), hearing the phrase "Yasmin Steel" and holding the items themselves will provide Advantage, but only if they get rid of the Exhaustion points first. i would also point out that Kosara will have a leg up in identifying mundane qualities of the loot, again owing to her background.

It feels like I might have missed a point in here someplace, but, we'll work that out as we go along. Please be in contact though our Discord for the usual stuff and dice rolls, and above all, have fun with it. Thanks!