Sigil

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@Dragoknighte@rivaan@Remipa Awesome@Rapid Reader@Lewascan2

And with that, my laptop issues are handled for the time being. Thank you for your patience, and again, everyone writing for this little adventure has an additional day added to their counters on account of my involuntary tardiness. Be this 24 hours late, here is the penultimate post for the trade town of Darenby. Handle what you need to in town during this cycle; purchases, miscellaneous wrap-ups, etc. We've more or less got the party roster set, and we've been in Darenby long enough. If you have anything you need to buy in town, let me know and I will help wrap it up in a mostly behind-the-scenes fashion. Just credit a couple of sentences or so in the IC on its appropriation.

Also, I wish to extend a more or less friendly reminder to please keep OOC observations and notations firmly in the OOC.

Thanks again for making adventures in the Avonshire region part of your (at least) weekly schedule. I'm so grateful I might not drop a Tarrasque on you this round.

Might not.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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The Infamous Pear, 1F

The red haired lady in guard's colors listened to the additional issues and inquiries toward compensation stoically, taking it in. Mental notes were taken. One of those notes was that there were members of this group of outsiders who showed an abundance of optimism the likes of which didn't seem to improve her own mood; point of fact, a wry face was made, partly in surprise of the positivity so early in the morning. An wary eyebrow raise also materialized at the Bard's remark. This was quickly righted, both expressions buried under a veneer of principled duty. She kept her answers polite but terse. "Yes, pleasure to meet you as well. My name is Lynette." It was the first semi-casual thing she had said, and it looked like it itched a little.

Past this, the influx of questions was taken in stride, if "stride" meant she looked like a ship hull getting swelled upon by waves. "Rough locations..? I'm not sure what to tell you. The Township is a hub for farmers and hunters. So far as a map, we have one - one - in the Fort, same as most major settlements. I do not have liberty to give it to you. Nor can I give illumination about patterns. I am not an investigator. Sheriff Arbalest was under the impression that you were. Now speaking to 'additional potential rewards', the Sheriff told me he would 'entertain special requests', and that was only because that one," she paused just long enough to motion at Victoria, "silver-tongued the man knowing full well he was in a difficult position." The minor tirade came out rougher than intended, as the cracks in her exterior serenity widened.

Lynette gave a short, huffing sigh. "Apologies. Things have been hectic here. The constabulary seems always short of hands, the Harvestide is upon the region in addition to our regular duties, and a carnival is scheduled to arrive for the end of the festivities. Merchant traffic is up with folk trying to move through before winter sets in. The frosts have come early. This brings other concerns. Now this side project of Gregor... sorry, the Sheriff's, that you all are part of. He wants it handled (if there's anything in the first place) but cannot put any manpower to it, apparently including himself. He has his reasons. Suffice it to say, we are quite stressed."

Looking directly at Hugh, Lynette summarized, "Your special request looks comparable to the others. I will recommend favorably when the Sheriff returns."

The Halfling, Guido, made a quick appearance to hand off a large mug of something steaming to Lynette, which she took with muted surprise. "Oh, um, thank you," she said quietly, accepting the vessel and letting it more fully warm her hands. A little less volatile, she looked to the group, "Look, I'm going to be here in The Infamous Pear for the next couple of hours. Shops will begin opening in a few more minutes. If you need to purchase anything before you go, I can recommend good places for you. When the sun is high in the sky, I am taking the wagon and the beast attached to it and returning to Fort Darenby, if it remains there."

The interior of the Inn had become fairly quiet, owing now to the lack of people within it. With the exception of the party, Lynette, and the staff, there was only one older man sitting in the corner, minding his own business and carving on a what looked to be a piece of bone. Every so often he would appraise the lines he had worked into it, blow off any powdery remains, and keep going.

As the morning meal concluded, there remained a respectable amount on the table, which Owen was happy to clear away. "Oh, take just as much as you want with you!" he chortled mirthfully, giving the group an opportunity to claim some of the more travel-friendly items. "We shall simply repurpose the untouched and unclaimed otherwise. Bread and honey will make a fine pudding. Fine pudding, you see! Mayhap that you should come back by sometime in your ...worldly and noteworthy travels... for a good, squishy slice or two! Now I know, I know - bread pudding is a peasant dish. But how many of us in this place aren't peasants, yes? Yes! Truly scrumptious, this." He prattled on a while as he gathered and cleared, making small talk but not really giving opportunity for meaningful dialogue; merely filling empty space with words as he went about his work. Owen was a personable sort, if a bit flawed. Toward the end, he did lean in to whisper, "Oh, don't mind Miss Lynette. She has her own weights to bear and some days are better than others. Forthright and canny in a pinch, though! Yes. I might have married my son off to her, you know, if I had a son. Ah, well! You go along now, and do you very important, very hush-hush work. I shan't tell a soul that doesn't already know." He lay a finger to the side of his nose and winked in a knowing, conspiratorial manner, and quickly scuttled off.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Victoria Belmont Half-Elf, Bard, Level 3 HP: 23 / 23 Armor Class: 15 Conditions: N/A Location: The Infamous Pear Action: N/A Bonus Action: N/A Reaction: N/A

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It looked like the gang had all filed down, each giving a prime example of the personalities they wished to show to the world as if the table was a mosaic of differing psychologies. The study of the sentient mind was not foremost in Victoria's intellectual pursuits, but the actions which were to come in the days following would have a serious impact on the outcome of their venture. Social situations, as it were; a study in which Victoria was well versed.

For starters, the irrepressibly positive nature of Kosara contrasted with the overall tone of the morning, which might have been a good thing, thinking about it. Victoria extended her morning greetings and answered her compliments with a perky, "Thank you!" while offering wordlessly to pass over what portions of breakfast were not within her ready reach. The cheese upon bacon upon cheese sandwich did warrant pause, as Victoria pondered how Kosara maintained her delicate frame with such a diet. A flash of envy caught her when the thought that it was possibly a benefit of Tiefling metabolism, even though she really knew nothing about the physicality of those whose bloodline was touched by the lower planes. For all she knew, her own hybrid Fey background might provide similar benefits, though Victoria was not about to indulge thusly just yet. Now, those apples, on the other hand...

Dreams of baked fruit were shuffled to the side when the "half-giant" who ruffled her hair stepped toward the table. Victoria offered a pleasant "Good morning! Bracing, isn't it?" in response to Kathryn's morning greeting. Indeed, the weather had turned to the chillier side of autumn, from the feel of things. Addressing the proposed plans of action, Victoria diplomatically responded (even as others had their own retorts), "Those are fine ideas. When we get to the township, of course. To add to your question," she paused just long enough to dab a bit more honey onto her bread, then smile in appraisal of the sweet, amber goodness, then continued. "Do we split up to cover more ground in our own unique ways, or do we hit them all together?" Subtlety versus numbers. "This 'investigating' thing has layers, hmm?" Victoria broke into a grin and sipped from her tea.

In contrast, Victoria chose not to respond to Hugh's assertion that the party abandoned their letters, but she did take note. Personally, she did not find any more relevance in the letter, seeing as its purpose was to get her to Darenby. To that end, it succeeded. Unless their employer was suspect in some way, it just didn't seem to matter. More than that, if they were going into this mission quietly, having a thing like that found on her person or in her belongings might aid in shortening her lifespan. Still, this wasn't her area of expertise, so with a shrug, Victoria extended her hand and took back her own letter. "I suppose one could prestidigitate it to ashes if necessary. Excellent firelighter, too." The letter found its way back into her hat. Then Victoria found her way to scrambled eggs before they grew cold.

She noticed that Naivara was also taking advantage of the hospitality of their hosts, so far as breakfast went. Between her and Kosara, she figured that maybe, just maybe, she was a little too concerned about her girlish figure, especially considering she had already given the thought to the day's travel. Yeah, she was definitely being uptight about this. It was time for a little palate cleanser, anyway. Leaning across the table, Victoria brandished a long, double-sided knife, deftly skewering one of the baked apples before settling back into her seat. The fruit still on the blade, she took a tentative bite and immediately issued a satisfied, "Mmm!" A puzzled look came over her for just a moment, then she quietly mused, "Cinnamon, I think..." The urge to take another bite, this one much more forward in nature, was heeded, and soon Victoria was urgently swiping up a cloth to catch what tried to escape from the warm, juicy apple before it was too late. She looked like she was enjoying herself.

Marita spoke, and though it was against her usual nature to take a firm side, Victoria found that she agreed with her. "If there's damage to be done with the letters, then it's already done. Either the meeting last night was a trap, or the job we just took is the trap, or this is all legitimate and there's something else influencing events. The only thing we need to worry about now is each other, and half of you had a good opportunity to kill me just last night, so..." She looked down at herself, noting that she was indeed still alive. Active, even. "So maybe we're all supposed to be here." She giggled. Forcing herself to stop, Victoria mused, "Or some assassin is playing a longer game. It's a little exciting, isn't it?"

Further musing brought her attention to the dwindling platter of meat on the table. "I wonder... seeing as that's a dish of once-living matter, could the broader animating force of basic necrotic energy be used to manipulate the material here? Might processed meat products find utility, or even martial use among the students of The Grey Requiem?" A look of wonder spread across Victoria's face as she pondered aloud, "Bardic Sausagekinesis! It could work. It could."

She barely paid Alastor any mind as he fled. It was completely out of nowhere, like a poorly timed punchline in a comedic play. But it did segue into something slightly more interesting, in the form of a representative of the Sheriff making her way to them, To her greeting, Victoria responded, "May Fate guide you to storied enlightenment," with a smirk. A paraphrased quote from a deity from whom she drew some of her teachings, and in truth more parting words than a salutation.

News of a wagon drawn by a pack animal was also interesting. Did they expect the group to carry cargo or haul back the bad guys? Or a better question, "Can any of you teamster a wagon?"

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@Dragoknighte@rivaan@Remipa Awesome@Rapid Reader@Lewascan2

Update is updated. It's funny how it works out that way. There's no major plot points to be worked out, but if there is anything that the characters want to work out, purchase, do in Darenby before the trail is hit, please do so in the next post. Get with me for specifics or questions, either here, our Discord, or by private message.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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The Infamous Pear, 1F

The Infamous Pear, 2F

The inhabitants of the other rooms eventually made their way down to the taproom of The Infamous Pear in no especial order or set time, a one looking sleepy here and another eager to get into the meat of the day there. Breakfast continued mostly uninterrupted, with the exception of once or twice when Guido saw fit to casually edge his way over, for some reason absolutely certain that there might not be enough scrambled eggs or loose tea for the group's morning repast. he didn't say a word, but did seem to be keeping his eye on things. Lucky for all parties concerned, he seemed to have put on pants. Pants were useful.

The morning meal was requested of the few overnight patrons, again with varied tastes and with varied ability to pay; the least of which still got something warm and nourishing even if it was just toasted bread, fruit, and tea, before they went about their day. And true to the nature of this fine(ish) Inn, a few locals popped in for something to get them going on their way to whatever livelihood kept a roof over their heads. Upon these occasions, when the door opened one might spy a rime of frost covering any untouched surface. The sun was not quite so high in the clear, azure sky as to touch these places of muted ice in any meaningful way, yet enough illumination was present to see that, while winter was not upon them yet, it might be arriving early. The first frost of the year was claimed the region of Avonshire, and before the ending of Harvestide.

The otherwise quiet din of ante meridian chatter and shuffling was suddenly shattered by the sound of a door flying open and slamming against the wall behind it. This door led to the simple lavatory, such as it was, located within the premises. From said lavatory sprung a very confused looking individual - a blue-skinned Tiefling of noble bearing, clutching his belt as he viewed the party assembled at the table yet again, a demeanor of charged consideration upon his features. A horrified and thoroughly convinced NOPE might be gleaned from his expression, verified by his immediate bolt out of the front door. Mr. Owen Hardy, emerging from a back room just in time to see this for himself, declared aloud, "I was wondering where he'd got off to..." before shrugging and beginning to set up his bar for the day.

The roguish Tiefling was not the only person to make use of the flung-open portal to and/or from local booze, oh no; this moment was also capitalized upon by a lady of respectable proportion, sporting a shock of shorter, ginger hair and a grim countenance. She wore the rugged brown coloration of a local guard and a brooch sporting a sheaf of grain below a rising sun pinning her cloak together. Human, by appearance, and holding a piece of paper in a black-gloved hand. She immediately made her way to the Adventurers' table and looked carefully over all present, making quick notations of, "...Human, female, clergy..." As she went through the qualifiers to get to whom the paper was intended, eyes took in details of those assembled, as if studying or memorizing. Finally, and after a bit of a pause, the paper went to Marita Bärbel. With broader intonation intended to address the whole of the party, she spoke, "Light bless your morning. I was sent by the Sheriff of Avonshire to bid you along on your task. Outside of this place there is a mule-drawn wagon. This is at your disposal for the interim; the Sheriff suggests that you leave it under the care of a stable owner named Fields in the Township unless you care to pay for its upkeep out-of-pocket. Otherwise, be my authority limited, I speak on the Sheriff's behalf. Is there anything else that needs to be addressed before you depart?"

Any choosing to take a gander outside will be greeted by the sight of the aforementioned cart, just off of the street. The a thick draft mule stares mindlessly ahead, seemingly unaware of the uncomfortable temperature around itself. The occasional lift of a leg or twitch of an ear punctuates its still and quiet stance. It is hitched to a wagon which looks sturdy enough, possibly appropriated from the army to look at its unadorned but effective design. There is a mass of canvas and a few large sacks of what might be fodder neatly tucked away in back, the canvas apparently designed to be stretched over the top of the framework on the wagon to provide shelter for persons or goods therein.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Victoria Belmont Half-Elf, Bard, Level 3 HP: 23 / 23 Armor Class: 15 Conditions: N/A Location: The Infamous Pear Action: N/A Bonus Action: N/A Reaction: N/A

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Counting out coins quickly was part and parcel with entertaining on the road. While it was not the venue of her dreams, this did represent the most reliable source of work for Victoria while she was out traveling, and so she was no stranger to fast counts, paired with fast distribution. To that end, Victoria was open to give an emotive, "Aww, well thank you, to Kosara, palming five silver coins and pressing them into the Tiefling's hand. "Learning more songs would be just lovely. Let's discuss it on the road some, hmm?"

In contrast, getting her hair rumpled by an appreciative but obviously somewhat impaired Kathryn was high on her ranks of mild annoyance, which Victoria tried to keep out of her voice as she said, "I'm so glad you enjoyed the show," but ultimately failed, some note peeking through. Her hands went to smooth back the strands which fell out of place, and there was small vexation at not having a mirror handy. It seemed that a touch of vanity colored her psyche.

Naivara's enthusiasm was appreciated, as was her gift of a gold coin. It was a bit much, especially from someone with whom she was supposed to be adventuring, but gold was gold, after all. Victoria was not about to turn it down. Instead, she made a showing of spinning the coin between her knuckles once, flicking it up, snatching it out of the air, and quickly, as if my magic, squirreling it away in a pocket. "That was so sweet, Naivara. Thank you!"

The compliment from Hugh, considering the mercurial responses from him as the evening had progressed thus far, was taken somewhat guardedly. She did extend a polite smile and a warm, "Thank you," effecting a shallow bow and sweeping motion with the hat in her hand. There was an eyebrow raise and a wary nod at the suggestion of room assignments, as she didn't really have a dog on this particular fight just yet.

As others made for their rooms or otherwise settled in for the night, Victoria took the occasion to play another song or two downstairs. There were people still about to entertain, and possibly coin to be had. They weren't getting paid until the end of this little mission, and a girl had expenses. Rest was necessary, however, and before too long Victoria made her way upstairs with burlap-wrapped Morty following dutifully behind.

Taking the opinion that there's no sense continuing the drama from downstairs, Victoria chose a bed in the room with Hugh. She looked down to her porcine companion and issued the command (almost ludicrously), "Play dead!" resulting in the creature collapsing straightaway. With a huff, she pushed the animal under the bed and readied herself for sleep. She stripped down to modest undergarments, folding her clothes neatly, and hung her cloak on the bedpost. After a brief inspection of the bed to ensure nothing crawly might be there, she settled in, covers over herself in the bracing night, and just before she closed her eyes, said, "Nighty-night, Morty. I'll get you up tomorrow morning."

The next day dawned, and Victoria was not amazingly happy at having to greet it. It was chilly, moreso than the evening before, and the blankets on her bed were comfortable. Unfortunately, there was a job to do. Might as well do it. So as slow to rise as she might have been, she was very quick at getting herself dressed and put together with just the right touch of cosmetics. Traveller's attire, befitting the travel of the day, and of course her amazingly bardy hat. Black and purple again made themselves known as her traditional colors of choice. All of this was lightly scented with floral notes.

This day, she went into her chest and pulled out a set of leather armor, rich and dark of color, with muted but stylish metal accents. It appeared well taken care of of not quite new. She donned the armor and threw her cloak over it all, then descended the floors to meet the day.

From the stairs, Victoria issued a sharp sentence, "Come along, Morty!" The porcine avenger scrambled from beneath the bed, rose to it's feet, and trotted with an uneven gait to join its caller. When the pair made it downstairs, Morty assumed his spot near the corner, as he did the previous night.

The idea of breakfast was appealing. In contrast to most mornings when she might just have a pastry and cup of strong tea, Victoria selected for herself a little bit of everything with a leaning toward the fresh bread and honey. She did seem to enjoy it. A perky "Good morning!" found its way to both Guido and Marita, but in the case of the Cleric, she added, "Oh, aren't you lovely this morning?" She sat, motioning with a piece of bacon, "Whomever the antagonists are in our little venture, they won't know what hit them." Victoria gave a quick wink before biting off half of the strip of meaty goodness in her hand.

News of the Sheriff not joining them this morning drew an exasperated sigh from the youthful Bard, then an accepting shake of her head. "It's fate. If everything went exactly to plan, it wouldn't be an adventure, now would it?" Still, her optimism carried a wearied tone to it.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@Dragoknighte@rivaan@Remipa Awesome@Rapid Reader@Lewascan2

End of day, beginning of Day Two.

In short, if you haven't closed out the day, please do so first. Bring your character to the next day by the end of your next post. It can be as simple as "Returned to the Inn and passed out", or as complicated as you like, so long as you've got your character back in the taproom of The Infamous Pear early in the morning.

As usual, please hit me up with questions. We should be properly underway and rolling out of Darenby soon. Also as usual, thank you for your prompt responses.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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The Infamous Pear, 1F

The Infamous Pear, 2F

The Infamous Pear began to fill with patrons following the musical stylings of the two entertainers. Performances had a way of doing this, particularly in outlying regions, and is one of the reasons that entertainers tended not to pay for their own drinks. The type of people who entered the establishment seemed to be locals judging by clothing; professional garb of tradesmen and the slightly more sophisticated attire of shopkeepers was the baseline, with hands calloused or smudged with ink as appropriate. They all seemed to know each other judging by initial acts of familiarity, and the big buzz of the room (at least at first) was that Owen and Guido had somehow acquired house entertainment. When the drinks began to flow more liberally, discussion turned elsewhere; business, crops, the continuing question of the situation with Goblins, or the coming of the Harvestide celebration.

A few outsiders made their way in. Not many, but their attire spoke to proclivities foreign to the Avonshire region. Some donned armor and a few more than that carried weapons of some kind. Guardsfolk who were present, on and off duty, paid some notice of these people before making their own assessments of threat, and then dismissing the idea of looking into them further. So long as blade did not clear scabbard, they seemed content to live and let live.

The overall temperature of The Infamous Pear began to drop noticeably. The influx of customers opening the doors to the establishment was the obvious villain here, allowing the autumn night air to enter with impunity. It had gotten chillier over the past hour, and the fire could only do so much. After the brunt of the fresh blood entered the taproom proper and the door remained closed for a time, this began to abate. Nevertheless, it stood as a reminder that the last harvest of the year was upon them. More wood was placed upon the fire and the thick curtains of the dense, translucent windows were pulled closed, providing some insulation from the outside temperature.

Overall, the rush of business lasted for about two more hours as the mostly local crowd had their libations, spoke their conversations, and then left, presumably to their homes. Darenby was a place which existed primarily for commerce; a stop along a trade route linking the region to the sea and deeper into the kingdom. Especially with Harvestide, these people had storefronts and contracts which required their attention the following day. A smaller percentage of these people stayed, either to drink themselves into oblivion or because they did not wish to face the evening's chill just yet.

Outside of The Infamous Pear, things seemed still. There were very few who walked the streets that evening. Those who did kept their movements short, getting to where they needed to go with zero dallying. Exhalations of breath condensed into swirling cones of misty white, giving the appearance of pipeless pipe smokers or the pantomime of a baby white dragon at play. The night was clear, cloudless; though the air had bite the stars shone brightly and a gibbous moon hung in the sky. It was an ideal evening for stargazing to anyone with access to a roof, or open enough area to get a good, wide view of the celestial show before them.

Otherwise, the evening passed without incident. No random events which might have occurred due to the tumble of cosmic dice came to pass, and though Fort Darenby was a place of semi-rural intrigue, nothing so scandalous was in the stars, proverbial or otherwise.

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When morning came, as mornings tend to do with enough passage of time, a frost had settled upon the ground. The interior of The Infamous Pear was quiet for the most part, except for a determined knocking sound in the kitchen. A lingering sour smell of ale from multiple small spills over the course of a busy evening could be detected faintly, but above this a grander aroma of baking bread and something spicy-sweet hung in the air, dancing amid olfactory promises of something smoked and meaty. Breaking the still of the morning came a dulcet siren's call from the kitchen, melodious and clear:

"Damnit, damnit, DAMNIT!"

Okay, so it wasn't precisely dulcet, nor melodious, nor might any self-respecting Siren have made a call like this. But it was clear, and was followed by the sound of repeated, metallic, blunt trauma being inflicted upon a hopefully inanimate object within the kitchen. Perhaps more accurately, if it was not inanimate before, it certainly was now. It was May, and she was doing her level best at her profession.

Still in a nightshirt and droopy sleeping cap, Guido sauntered out of the kitchen area to put the last of a decent, breakfasty feast upon the Adventurer's Table, that being the same one they were seated around the previous evening. The table bore the weight of thick, white, semi-spherical loaves of bread with a jar of honey and a thick jam made from spicy peppers, a serving bowl filled with scrambled eggs, a wax-rind wedge of a white, crumbly cheese, and a platter of seasoned, baked apples. Guido's last platter held a bevy of linked sausages of unknown origin and pile of bacon. All in all it was far more then was needed for a group of six.

Whichever of the party assembles at the table or makes an appearance downstairs, Guido will be sure to greet and wish a fortunate morning to. He will also produce a letter from Gregory Arbalest, carefully folded (though considering that he's still in a nightshirt, where he kept it remains a frightening mystery), and read from it aloud:

Letter, Mk2

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Adventurers,

I have regretfully been called away to handle business related to the logistics and safety of the Avonshire region, and will not be present to see you off. I apologize for my absence. One of my men will be available upon your departure to answer any questions that he may, and deliver any messages to me that you might have in return. I understand that this is not ideal. Let us strive to maintain the plan as it was discussed. Also, let us hope that the various hiccups so far in this noble endeavor bear a more positive result in the end. I do not know any of you well enough to give a fair accounting of your mettle, though I often find that strength of virtue can come from the most irregular or places and oddest of alliances.

May the Light speed and protect you on your journey.

At about this time, May slammed open the door and exited the kitchen, walking backward as not to disturb the tea service she was carrying. From the cutting, mildly acidic smell coming from the steaming pot, this was quite strong tea, indeed. "Fine, here ya go. Tell me if you want something else before I take my break, okay?" Snappy words, though she meant them professionally. Sort of.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Victoria Belmont Half-Elf, Bard, Level 3 HP: 23 / 23 Armor Class: 15 Conditions: N/A Location: The Infamous Pear Action: N/A Bonus Action: N/A Reaction: N/A

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The call from Kosara to perform, just prior to the private conversation with Marita, did not fully leave her mind regardless of the situational importance of the talk with the lady Cleric. This was partly what Victoria had in mind when she said that she felt a song's swift approach, though to be quite frank she'd rather get a set of her own in before taking on a partner. Again, Victoria's penchant for compromise when it was necessary came into play here. She wasn't wandering on the road by herself at the moment and needed to maintain decent relations with the people with whom she would embark on this little adventure. And of course, the goading (if that's what it was) from Marita would have to be answered with an example of her Epic Bard-ness, such as it was.

To Victoria, the way she spoke about her music wasn't so much of a brag, though she did have occasion to do this, as it was an explanation of the type of music which served her Bardic College. In her case, the College of the Grey Requiem (which was referred to by the uninitiated as the College of Necromancy but was in fact an offshoot of Lore) taught a performer various styles, both sorrowful and joyous, based around funerary customs. However, this most certainly did NOT mean that she couldn't pack a tavern. Or a music hall. Or an arena, if she got enough advance notice. And so, she strode over to her violin case and reverently removed the rich, polished wooden stringed instrument. The bow slid from the back of the violin, soundlessly and effortlessly molding into Victoria's hand like it belonged there, just as much as a sword in the hand of a duelist. She looked to Kosara, speaking the terms of her compromise, "I shall perform the first one solo, if this doesn't bother you too much. It should bring in a decent enough amount of folk, who might then become entranced by your rhythmic steps of the southern deserts while in greater spirits." There wasn't a pause to converse on the plan so much as it was a statement for her information - Victoria was doing her own thing first. Hopefully the explanation would suffice.

The fire in the hearth at the back of the stage was starting to catch a little brighter, giving the tap room a nice, homey feel. Victoria took her hat from the table and placed it toward the front of the stage, should any generous patron with to throw in a coin (or another suspicious letter for an adventure, like the last time). Before climbing up, the optimistic Bard removed her close-fitting purple coat to more fully reveal black silks underneath, and moved her silver raven's skull brooch to pin it thereupon. Red-auburn hair flowed to one side, pinned up on the other to better accommodate her instrument beneath her chin. She was a woman of svelte frame, slender and dexterous while still maintaining the ideal of an unmistakably feminine figure, with bright eyes and an infectious smile. This demeanor, these mannerisms; it was hard to say whether it was intended as part of a coming performance or simply her natural state of existence. Such was the life of a Bard.

Victoria brought herself up to the stage with practiced grace, holding her violin with reverence. She made an overt flourish with the bow, catching the attention of some of the inn's patrons, who in turn motioned to others. The flourish then turned into practiced motions, as a conductor might move a baton. Trails of magic seemed to blur the clearer lines of reality around the violin bow, then the lady wielding it, and soon a pulsing rhythm of sound swelled from behind Victoria. Musical accompaniment, at once distant and easily perceived, crystalized even before she pulled her bow across the strings of her instrument. The song she began cut through the air and filled the senses of those present, its notes reaching out from the confines of The Infamous Pear and into the streets beyond. As the dulcet sounds solidified into a grand performance, Victoria began to move and sway along with it.

Victoria could dance, and in fact danced with an amazing degree of proficiency, made more impressive by the observation that she simultaneously, flawlessly played her violin, never missing so much as a single note. The dance was not a structured set of choreographed steps, but, like the nature of Bardic magic, felt like movement spontaneously directed by the music of the moment. It was sensual acrobatics put to music, tastefully performed to demonstrate mastery of self, mastery of instrument, and mastery of the crowd which was by this time starting to enter The Infamous Pear in earnest, having heard the first notes from the street and stood compelled to find the source of the dulcet, soul-calling sounds. Victoria owned the stage, as if she had laid the polished planks herself and lovingly carved each joint which held it together. The townsfolk of Darenby could only look upon her with stunned, enchanted silence.

Until, of course, the first percussion of applause broke this silence. Then it exploded into a cacophony of approval. Victoria bowed, giving the appropriate demonstrations of gratitude. While the applause started to die down, Victoria motioned to Kosara and declared over the noise of the patrons, "If you were looking for an audience, Warlock, I have found one for you." She smiled, again weaving the minor magics which brought about an otherworldly accompaniment of rhythm. For one versed in the music, this was the opening to a piece influenced by, if not exactly, a traditional style of the southern deserts. Victoria supplemented the appropriate pauses of her violin as the song progressed with melodic vocalizations, showing decided proficiency for the art. For this song, she kept her movements more subdued. The goal was to draw attention to the dancer more than herself. A good performer, in her experience, knows when and when not to take center stage. This highlighted the dances native to Kosara's culture, not her own.

This time, when the applause occurred, Victoria likewise took up clapping and cheering, motioning toward the pale Tiefling lady to ensure praise outwardly flowed in her direction. This also gave her an opportunity to, now that fewer eyes were upon her, to see how many (if any) coins of the realm were deposited in her hat. Her mind went back to a similar performance a couple of days ago, dredging up a little anxiety as to what she might do if there really was a letter left there.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@Dragoknighte@rivaan@Remipa Awesome@Rapid Reader@Lewascan2

We are nearing an end-of-day. Not quite there yet, but soon. Room assignments may be discussed in the OOC or Discord as you like, but representation must be observed in the IC here. If it was not clear from context, the rooms discussed are the two rightmost rooms across from each other in the map titled The Infamous Pear, 2F located in the header of the most recent IC update. The lower room on the map only has two beds, and will be getting the cot.

Now is a good time for standard tavern stuff if you want, or to call it an early night if you don't. If you enter the rooms, you will note that the upper one has a window which faces out to a receiving area and stable in the back of the building. The lower room's window faces out to the street.