Sigil

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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The wagon departing with the party is most certainly not the only one leaving Darenby and headed west. Most of the others are larger, merchant affairs, though many are personal conveyances a little smaller than the solders' wagon lent to the group. This is a well traveled road by the standards of the time; many shod hoofprints and wheel marks could be seen on the road, brown dirt contrasted against rough stone and ruts carved into otherwise packed clay or gravel being the norm, showing the passage of vehicles over time.

Rolling hills stretch across the landscape, dotted with trees showing the ironically warmer colors of autumn or bravely holding out with more verdant tones against the coming cold. The sun stands boldly in the sky, doing its best against the fresh frost of the night. Places of shade still show the opaque dusting of crystalline white, reminding those who look upon it that the weather is indeed turning. This was a threat well heeded by the farmers of the region, who even then ran about their fields with as much help as they could muster in these early hours, inspecting their harvests of fruit, grain, and vegetables. They picked and stored what they could and did their utmost to protect that which needed just a little bit longer. At the end of Harvestide all of this would be complete and the winter preparations would commence.

Those versed in agriculture would also recognize the death march of pigs and large domestic animals. Others would simply see a number of different locals leading livestock up the road in rope trains or groups of crated pigs in the back of heavy wagons, getting onto the road for just long enough to take them to the nearest village which featured organized butchering, else in the case of smaller operations they might handle it themselves. The creatures mostly looked bored, unaware they were being marched to their inevitable deaths and subsequent conversion into foodstuffs.

The journey deeper into the region of Avonshire was beginning to show ample reason as to how it got its name, for any linguists that were wondering. Cutting amid the rolling hills were streams and tributaries which broke off from one or more rivers which flowed unerringly toward the sea. Ponds dotted the landscape as well, some smallish and some lakes in their own right. One of the later groups of migrating waterfowl could be seen gathering atop the glassy surface of one such body of water, only to take off en masse as some local kid tossed a stone into the midst of them, resulting on a plop, splash, and great rustle of feathers.

Avonshire is not an especially large place, though even one poorly versed in farmcraft can tell that this place is likely responsible for food production covering a disproportionately larger population.

The wagon rolled along, occasionally passed by those traveling east and sometimes sharing a stretch of road with those moving in the same direction as themselves. Hats were tipped, the occasional "Howdy" uttered by Humans and Halflings alike. The sightings of people occured in waves, usually predicting the existence of a village or hamlet over the next rise. Fishing poles dotted lines in the waters of ponds and streams despite the sudden onset of colder weather, indeed it seemed to spur the fisherfolk on. Between these waves of scant to moderate population the land stretched out to seemingly infinite proportions. This was an idyllic piece of countryside with honest, hardworking folk and passing merchants alike - truly an excellent place to retire or raise a family. And yet, far too many of these good and wholesome people had a metaphorical shadow over their faces; the outward signs that they detected, if only subconsciously, that something insidious was afoot in their little section of prosperity.

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 -> Wagon Action: N/A Bonus Action: N/A Reaction: N/A

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Victoria was happy that Kosara seemed to like her new, colder weather ensemble. If there was something that Victoria prided herself upon, it was a sense of style. Granted, she prided herself for many things, so this was pretty much status quo for her. Nevertheless, she did have a decent grasp on the concept of style. As a testament to this, the now opened chest (being the sole item in the small errand-cart and taking up most of its room) contained - among other things - neatly folded and accessorized articles of clothing of differing cuts and colors, and a cosmetics case that looked considerably too elaborate for simple touch-ups.

She put her new acquisitions from the market into the chest and closed it back tight, breathing out a sigh of disappointment. Not every venture about town was successful. Attempts at utilizing her meager grasp on Necrotic energies to achieve the epicness of Bardic Sausagekinesis were unsuccessful. She kept it subtle, but all that Victoria got was an odd look from the proprietor that thankfully was passing in nature. A quick purchase and a charming smile smoothed things over nicely.

Ideas on how to acquire the power to do such a feat were beginning to swirl about in her head when she heard the sudden outpouring of gratitude from Kosara. The first of a more genuine smile began to form as she began to turn back around, completely not expecting the sudden and inescapable snuggle from the happy Tiefling lady. "AHH!" It wasn't a graceful nor endearing sound, though one might infer from the tone that she probably had a decent enough singing voice. This was pure surprise which was illustrated by the expression on her face and an initial grab for her dagger.

A half second later she understood that this was affection and not an attack. Still, Victoria was in a mild state of shock. This was physical contact. Positive physical contact, which honestly freaked her out for a moment. A second or two passed and she began to blush, hands shaking slightly as she returned the embrace. She bore the weight of repeated thank yous, smiling and giving the lady a return squeeze. It was nice. Victoria was content to hold this for a time. Until her sense of self-consciousness crept back into her forebrain. She didn't know if she was holding this snuggle for longer than what was socially acceptable and did not want to risk it as nobody knew her here. Nobody really knew her, period, when it came down to it. Keeping a distance, despite her occupation as a Bard, served to protect her from things she hadn't the heart to tell others. So, still with a touch of red in her face, Victoria slipped her arms from around Kosara and stepped back. Looking in her eyes she stammered, "Yes, you're, ah... welcome, Kosara. Really. Quite welcome." The smile returned, but she turned her head to return to her belongings.

This looked like an act of shyness, which she had shown absolutely no part of at any point in time before this. Uncharacteristic, one might assume. Victoria glanced back with a smile, but kept to her work. She pulled on her charcoal cloak, which hung heavily across her frame, swept up her hat (matching of color except for the plumage), and snapped her fingers in Morty's direction. The hickory-smoked beast lumbered up, took to the tiny cart, and followed as Victoria strode outside, backpack and violin in hand, into the cooler morning air.

It didn't take but a moment to convince a pair of strapping young men to affix the oiled canvas enclosure to the top of the wagon for her. It took a quick smile to convince them to also lift her cart and pig (now un-animated) into the wagon as well, and she even let loose a "Please?" to convince one of them to hold the door to The Infamous Pear open just long enough so that Victoria could call inside, "C'mon! The day isn't getting any longer! I want to see what happens next!" Curiosity drew her forward more than anything else except for maybe the promised reward waiting upon their return.

When the opportunity presented itself, Victoria looked to Kosara and slid over in the driver's bench, patting the seat next to her. "Do you still want to learn to drive a wagon?" Victoria recalled that she had said so earlier. "I am happy to teach."

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@Sigil
Aw, hell. DM, permission to edit typo in my last post? It's annoying me more than it should.

@Sigil
Sure, go ahead. Don't start any trouble this time.

@Sigil
Thanks, will do.

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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Incensed at the tactless yet entirely accurate accusation launched at her by the Sheriff's stand-in, Victoria raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms in front of her in a manner that hinted at eventual retaliation, were this to continue. But as things seemed to be formed of stress and not entirely aggravation from her lapse into opportunism the day before, she wordlessly accepted the woman's apology. Even smiled at her, despite herself.

The next such annoyance, and really it was a continued annoyance rather than a new development, was the apparent and utter lack of anyone in the group possessing any knowledge whatsoever about operating a vehicle over a path; cobblestone, dirt, or other. It vexed her that people accustomed to a traveling lifestyle never got around to picking up a more efficient means of conveyance than placing one foot in front of another. She understood the Druid's situation, or at least thought that she did. There was likely very little drawing of cargo wagons through the close trees and dense underbrush of untamed woodlands. And while being able to get into the heads of the animals in question sounded amazingly useful, Victoria's trust extended only to that which she could lead by rein or mental command. The latter, of course, really only applied if the creature in question was dead, however.

Now that gave Victoria pause. The boar she had as a constant companion was a more hale and hearty creature than most mules (prior to its conversion to its present state of existence) and she was able to dictate its actions just fine. Perhaps the best way to ensure the animal's complete and utter compliance was to poison the creature or stop its heart, then allow her natural talents to bring it to do what they did best. But this wasn't her mule. And she did make a promise to Marita that she would only animate things which she acquired lawfully. So this posed a challenge. Hypothetically.

It turned out that there was a little time before they were to set off proper toward their mission, and with the possibility of getting some shopping under her belt, Victoria showed a little glint to her eye. First, she snagged a loaf of bread and wedge of cheese from the table, as well as a small pot of honey, squirreling it into her belongings. There was no sense in leaving it there when it was paid for and she really didn't want to break into her traveling rations unless she had to. This would make an acceptable lunch. Then the pulled out her dagger once more and impaled another baked apple. Yes, it was cooler now than freshly served, but she didn't care. It was yummy. But to shopping! It shouldn't take long, and she had given the town a quick once-over a couple of days ago. She knew where the marketplace was, if not specific stores.

Next, Victoria sized up Kosara. She really gave her a once-over, never giving explanation for why and being a little conspicuous about it. Then she smiled, mentioned that she would "Just be a little bit," and walked over to Lynette. Apparently, she was next. "Oh, hi! Yeah, hello. Look, I really hope that your day gets better, and it might just a soon as we make out way outside of those gates, right? I'll go a lot faster if you help me find a couple of things." Lynette nodded, and Victoria pressed her requests. "First off, I need to find a bell. I know, it's a little different. But I need one. Another thing I need..."

The orchid-clad Bard leaned in close to the woman and whispered the rest of her list, which provoked a look of interest, then incredulity. "What? A butcher? Are you sure that can help?"

"Mmm hmm!" came the immediate and spirited response from Victoria, complete with a bobbing nod of her head. The innocent joy on her face belied the more interesting machinations within her mind. Wishing to be done with this part of her day, Lynette provided directions to a couple of places near to each other in Darenby's fine mercantile area. Taking a huge bite out of her apple, still upon her shorter blade, Victoria strode out into the colder morning.

For approximately a half hour or so, maybe as long as forty-five minutes, Morty the Pig sat silently in the corner of the room, acting as silent sentinel to the tiny cart which held many of Victoria's belongings. After this time, the errand-running Bard returned. She bore with her a bell shaped object wrapped carefully with a soft cloth which also prevented the item from making its percussive call. But this wasn't the most obvious thing she had. A new leather pouch hung from her belt, small but notable, rather out of the way. Again, not the most obvious. What WAS the most obvious was a great package wrapped up in a dark cloth and tied with twine. This she sets down in front of Kosara and insisted, "Okay, don't be mad." This was probably not the best way to open things. Victoria quickly explained, "You're taller than I am, but I figure we're about the same size and I'm worried about you freezing to death, so..."

The twine was swiftly untied with a deft pull and cloth pulled away. Springing forth from this great reveal was a coat. It was long, stretching down comparably to most robes, and made of rich, dark grey wool. It had a sizeable hood, which might have a little trouble navigating the Tiefling's horns without some alteration but should suitably protect her ears from the biting wind as is. The article of clothing was lined and trimmed in red fur, mottled with darker notes that brought to mind more vulpine sources. With it came a matching pair of boots and gloves. "A girl's got to accessorize, right? And if the cold kills you, I'll never learn how you dance like that." Never the selfless act, or the appearance of one, lest people think her a pushover.

Victoria gave a mischievous smile and shoved the cloth in a pocket, retreating to her belongings. There were a couple of things in the bundle for her as well, packaged separately, with telltale dark and purple notes (as fit her proclivities) which she had to sort away into her travel chest. It was time to pack things up and hit the road.

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.