Sigil

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@Dragoknighte@rivaan@Remipa Awesome@Lewascan2@Sigil

I'm glad the decision to assist the poor, weary Cecily and sad Miss Lizbeth was a party-wide unanimous affirmation. The object here is to give a good idea of where things are in town, from a character point of view. Also to illustrate a few hot spots. Now, seeing as there is another decision to be reached concerning the wine delivery, the final consensus may or may not effect plot points moving forward. Pick as your characters might and have fun with it.

Oh, and for those of you who wanted a brothel in town? You're welcome. Though it's a little more like a Burlesque than anything less savory. We must maintain some element of respectability. Sort of. Or the illusion of respectability. We'll go with that.

In any case, however you choose to help these two, be it moral support, parting the crowd for ease of mobility, charisma based roleplay to smooth things over with customers, or just buckling down with muscle work and getting things unloaded (which will be needed regardless of everything else), have this in mind as the posts move along. Any questions while the wagons travel through town or stop at the locations will be sorted.

Also a note: The stops, even if it is counterintuitive to locations on the map, will be in the order that Cecily mentioned them. I will go into descriptions with the next update, and you can decide where your interactions and/or investigation goes from there. When the deliveries are complete, it will be nearing late afternoon/early evening. If you have questions, and I'm sure you will, hit me up. When we get through this slightly clunky and awkward section and the characters have absorbed enough knowledge to make it less meta, stuff may proceed at a more manageable level of ...manageableness.

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: Avonshire Township Action: N/A Bonus Action: N/A Reaction: N/A

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One of the talents which Victoria prided herself upon was maintaining objectivity and radiating approachable grace in the face of strong emotions. Most of the time. What stood now was not too dissimilar from the mixed feelings at a funeral. Except for the Constable, who she decided that she wasn't overly a fan of. He was just difficult in general. At least he was gone now. But to the others who were still around, Cecily and Lizbeth L'Rose, she could try to develop the rapport which they had begun a few moments earlier.

In her estimation, people suffering a loss wished to try to maintain normalcy as best they could until emotional weight dictated otherwise. No master of philosophy was she; merely a woman who had observed a lot of grief in her history. Cecily seemed like the type to press onward, so Victoria wasn't about to change that. In fact, she rather counted on this. "When it's time, would you like to take your reins back, Mrs. L'Rose?" she inquired softly, hoping that this might give her a better sense of control over a situation that had spiraled wildly out of that control for her. Of course, all of her supposition and ideas about the human condition could seriously backfire. Being attacked and having their livelihood's efforts stolen could have registered as a more pressing trauma than the death in the family, and this would sully her approach. But things seemed to work themselves out. They were offering to help as they could.

Given the choice between an Inn and an hayloft, Victoria would definitely choose an Inn. Now, there was a notation that went along with this as not every Inn room was created equal. In her hometown, Victoria was perfectly well set up with a suite, service and upkeep to her clothing and other belongings, fine meals, etc., though that was a long way away. So long as she maintained a modicum of privacy and the beds weren't infested with something awful, it would be just fine.

The others asked their questions. While bombarding the poor lady and her niece with inquiry wasn't the most polite thing ever, Victoria had to admit that some of them were worthwhile from the perspective of someone more local. That, and they unanimously decided to give them more help, thusly providing some time that they might be provided those answers. It was the right call, she thought. But again, what she did not know about this place and its people filled volumes of written work.

Of course, Kosara hugged people. It was what she did. No sense begrudging her for it.

Quietly, Victoria shuffled back to the wagons and began to get her things together. It looked like they were not going to have the second one within which one might split gear. Getting Morty moved quietly posed a challenge, as Victoria would soon find out.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@Dragoknighte@rivaan@Remipa Awesome@Lewascan2@Sigil

Congratulations! You have finally made it into the Township of Avonshire, and a few lines have been drawn before you even got your whole ass past the front gate. Not to worry! Things begin to get a little looser from here. Sort of. Now is when choices can be made, and the overall story alters depending upon what avenues the group decides to pursue. Just remember, the goal described by the absent Gregory Arbalest, Sheriff of the Avonshire Region was to solve the puzzle of the missing townsfolk and correct the problem if possible. But other things may have muddied the waters, not the least of which is the coming festival.

Best of luck, adventurers. <insert evil laugh here>

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Cavendish listened with a malcontented sneer on his face for the vast majority of the explanations given to him by the party. Details which he appeared to find particularly amusing were met with a glance back to his assembled men. The more professional looking of the bunch seemed to share the Constable's amusement, with smiles being seen from beneath hands raised to shield their eyes from the sun. The other men, those in more common clothing with likely lent weaponry, listed uneasily from side to side, occasionally murmuring among themselves. A few of these looked expectantly to the Constable, as if waiting for something from the man.

Between moments of having his sport, Cavendish was looking over the new arrivals with an eye for detail. He didn't seem to observe much from the Bard, but kept his look of self-assurance as his observations of the others continued. A ruse, coincidence, the truth, or just a ploy to maintain control of the situation; this was difficult to say. The exception to this was a flash of confusion as the Tiefling started off the conversation with a barrage of reports that probably needed an interpreter, were one not present. In any case, as soon as those present said their peace to him, he unshouldered his great and shiny warhammer and slid it into a loop on his belt, then waved his men away from more serious posturing. Speaking to them, he said, "Well boys, it looks like these heroes my dear cousin sent handled it. Back to business. You men," he motioned abstractly at the militiamen gathered, "...won't be needed after all. Go on about your day. You are all dismissed, and thank you so much for volunteering this morning." He gave them a lingering look, and finished up with, "Leave your things with the guards."

Back to the party, Cavendish addressed some of their statements. "Coffin Goblin..." he mused, giving a little chuckle. He didn't seem to take Kosara seriously. To Hugh, he regarded the use of semi-formality with the Sheriff, responding, "I'm sure that Mr. Arbalest would love to hear you call him that. He's the type. Just remember, you all got hired to hunt greenskins. So long as you're in my town, keep to your own and leave the other vermin to me and my boys. I hope we understand each other." And finally to Kathryn, "Casualty? Oh. That's a recovered body. The L'Rose family," he jerked his thumb in the direction of Cecily, Lizbeth, and now Victoria (who was still comforting the child), "asked for help. Seeing as you recovered it, this isn't the constabulary's problem anymore. That's between you and them."

The Constable turned around to walk back the way he came, speaking one last sage piece of advice. "Keep your nose out of things that don't concern you here. You start getting notions, you bring it to me." There was a lack of desire to speak further evident in his manner, and he simply walked off, back up the road toward the township's center. The last few members of the militia were handing over spears to the three better equipped soldierly types and filtering away, apparently glad to do so.

*******

The group hadn't made it quite fully into the township just yet, but even from this vantage some things could be observed. Directly to the west of the main gate and taking up space as far as vision allowed, given the circumstances, was a vast array of canvas and other cloth structures like large tents and pavilions, around which many working-class types could be seen. It was orderly and clean, as much as it might be, and seemed to have a number of hastily assembled stalls wherein farmers sold goods, some directly out of the back of wagons. It had the feel of a huge Farmers' Market, where the goods of the region could be acquired by all. Other than this, one could occasionally hear the beating of a smithy hammer or telltale sounds of wood being rasped down or lathed. Most of the people coming out of or going into this section resemble farmers or laborers or some kind. To the east, more permanent structures were raised, with shingles and signs indicating various legitimate businesses, many of which catered to travelers. And straight ahead, even through the din of foot traffic and occasional horses, one could see great trees toward the center of town. The main road led right into them, like a park in the town center. Throughout all of this, the decorations for the upcoming Harvestide festival could be seen in the forms of autumnal themes and stacking of colored gourds.

Cecily began to approach the group, followed by Victoria had a supportive hand on Lizbeth's shoulder. The two of them seemed to be getting over an emotional moment. "Your friend told me... what happened. I'm just sick over all of this. Um... so I want to repay you for everything you have done, but I didn't bring anything of worth with me. The wine is already paid for and just needs to be delivered, so... Look, I'm sorry, but if you can help me just a little bit more, I'll help you however I can while you're in town. I know an Innkeeper, of sorts, but I don't know if it's a place up to your standards. Hmm... Oh, my family does own a hayloft in town, if you need... No, that's silly. Okay, maybe after your contract is done, I can invite all of you back to the Rose River Vineyard for a while as my guests? Would... would that be okay?"

"Please?" finally piped up Lizbeth, wiping her dampened face with her sleeve. She pointed toward the wagons while blinking red-rimmed eyes, adding, "That's my Grandpa."

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: On The Road -> Entering Avonshire Township Action: N/A Bonus Action: N/A Reaction: N/A

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A sigh, sad smile, and shake of the head was all that Victoria had left to dedicate to the current intra-party drama. She had enough drama in her personal life and the job at hand to wish to deal with more. She kept to her words and quietly, but by zero means meekly, walked away with her new shinys and salvaged weapons.

As she was going to be leading this wagon train of two, it stood to reason that she might want to stash her recently acquired items in her chest, located within Morty's small pull-cart in the party's wagon. The hickory smoked animal itself would stay with her, seeing as she was under no illusions concerning the looks it was given by certain members of her present adventuring group. So Victoria stowed her belongings, piled her backpack back on top of the chest, and gave Kosara a quick pep talk to elaborate her faith in the Tiefling's ability to drive the wagon before returning to her own appropriated conveyance.

A quick cantrip make short work of the blood on her favorite slim coat, which she quickly replaced over her black, silk underclothes and layered her reinforced leathers over this. Simple Prestidigitation had to have been her favorite utility magic, hands down. Did it make one lazy? Maybe. Did it solve numerous daily difficulties at a thought? Definitely. But the hole that remained in her sleeve could not so easily be repaired by her - yet. Any decent enough place of lodging which catered to travelers would have someone capable of such a repair, and if not, she was perfectly capable of taking up a needle and thread for the job. Victoria just didn't want to if she could avoid it. At least she was able to get her big, jaunty, bard-y hat back upon her head. She liked that hat. It matched her charcoal grey cloak (which paired well with just about everything) and had a lovely bit of bright aubergine plumage as accent.

As soon as everyone else was ready to go, Victoria prompted the already beleaguered oxen to strain against their yokes and pull the slightly lighter wagon onward toward their original destination. The journey itself was uneventful, yet the sudden change in atmosphere as Avonshire Township came into view in the distance filled Victoria with a sense of excited wonder. Just a couple short days ago she was fully prepared to bypass all of this hubbub on her travels west, to the sea. Even if there wasn't an adventure afoot she might have wanted to see what this local Harvestide festival was all about. Just for a day or two. Until the silver in the form of tips started to slow and the best wines flowed less rapidly. That was ever the difficulty with festivals in unfamiliar lands; one never knew when the peak day were.

Passing by the stretching dots of tents and merchants, Victoria was keen enough of sight to pick out a fruit seller a ways in front of them. She fished out a copper coin from her belt pouch and called to the vendor, "Hi! Hey, may I get a pear from you? No, not... The one with the blush. Oh, thank you!" her coin sailed through the air, almost to be caught but smartly recovered after he tossed a pale green and red-purple oblong fruit up to the cheerful Half-Elf. She bit into it as the wagon lumbered by, issuing a sound and expression indicating a positive, yummy experience. "This is so good. Thank you!" It was finished off, damn near core and all, long before they made it to the gates proper. One thing she did notice during this time was the large burial ground near the woods and just outside of the city walls. She had a feeling that she would be visiting there before they departed. There was lore to be found in great graveyards of a region. This one might prove fruitful, in exchange for a few songs for the deceased. Victoria glanced back to the unmoving form of Morty in the back of the wagon, silently recalling the uncovered secret which led to its initial reanimation. What else might she discover from within hallowed grounds?

This thought served a minor distraction as they almost entered into the Township proper. The game was certainly afoot now, as a trio of new and seemingly important faces met theirs with introduction, the most important-seeming being that of the Constable. As the rather haughty man spoke, Victoria risked a warm smile and a wave at Cecily and Lizbeth, hoping that her nonthreatening demeanor might smooth some feathers while the others in the group made their statements to the Constable.

Unfortunately, the first rollout of information from Kosara served to reveal to the guy in charge, this Cavendish, that Victoria was capable of using magic. Or he would be just as soon as it was revealed that she was "V". Not that it wouldn't be revealed eventually, given her proclivities for showing off, but the fact that any information about her was spilled gave her a touch of annoyance. It wasn't anything that could be helped now, so went to her to press on and attempt to salvage any advantage she might from this situation.

The first thing Victoria did was put on the most open, personable demeanor that she could, making every effort to comply with the orders requests of the Constable. She looked the man over, trying to figure out something of his motives or intentions, only to come away with nothing. Nothing at all. Outside of his swaggering attitude in front of what she could only assume was a couple of town guards and a barely organized militia, he didn't give away a thing about himself to Victoria's perception. As there was no soft spot recognizable to apply social pressure, she resolved to move on the situation cold, utilizing pure charisma. When there was a clear opening to speak, she took to it comfortably. "Oh! Our apologies, Constable, sir! Please allow me a short introduction, if you would?" She paused for a half-second, then spoke, "I am called Victoria Belmont, of the Ashhaven Belmonts." The last part was stressed to see if he was familiar with the region or the family mentioned, fully not expecting him to be. But it gave an impression of someone with connections. Or at least financial influence.

"I had first heard word of you back at Fort Darenby; had I but known you were moving to handle this personally with a force of fine, brave men, we might have extended hearty cooperation. You must believe that we had no intention of stepping on anyone's toes. However, as my colleagues rightly stated, the good Sheriff did put us to this task. And..." Victoria leaned a little closer, lowering the volume of her voice, "...there are certain personal aspects with which I shouldn't want to trouble a man of your importance, especially with the festival making things more hectic for you and your very important duties." A knowing nod, and she continued, "With your permission, Constable, may I please speak with the bereaved and give them a little peace of mind before we continue?"

Yes, Victoria was fully aware that she was sucking up to an authority figure. Yes, it was a little shameless. Also yes, it worked. Cavendish stared at the purple-clad Bard, attempting to figure her out but (apparently) learning less about her than she did about him. Without word, he breathed a sigh and motioned his head behind him, in the direction of Cecily and little Lizbeth L'Rose. "Thank you, Constable," said Victoria warmly. In truth, she didn't give a rat's pickled hindparts about this Constable aside from the hassle he might provide her, given a long enough timeline. The other two, though? They deserved to know about the dead guy they found first, and from a compassionate voice. That aside, their acquaintanceship and being in their good graces could prove beneficial to their actual task here in town. Now was a good time to give them comfort, and to a lesser extent, secure that grace. Prioritizing them over the local law enforcement seemed like a good place to start.

Behind Cavendish a few paces, Victoria doffed her hat and took a knee, putting her eyes a bit lower than young Lizbeth as she got their attention and opened a dialogue. Her words were kept quiet and direct, evocative of reaction from the both of them. While the elder Cecily put her hands up to cover her face, Lizbeth reached out to Victoria to catch her in a hug. Not exactly what she was going for, but when in Avonshire, and whatnot.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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A brisk wind whipped up, but only for a moment. Half a moment, really. This weather seemed a little temperamental now that the sun was high in the bright, azure sky. The day had warmed decently, maybe even to the point of being comfortable in comparison to the frost-bearing night previous, though that wind cut through thinner clothing like a muffled gust of glacial breath. So long as the air kept still, it was actually a rather pleasant afternoon. Past the dip in the road, trees began to thin out, granting better view of the lands around which began to take their more expected view of broad, rolling rises with shallow clefts, dotted with the occasional copse of deciduous trees with an odd evergreen or two reminding them of days more verdant, and promising for its return after the months to come.

After a short while, cresting a higher hill brought with it the first signs of non-agrarian civilization - a boundary wall made of rough-hewn logs reaching skyward, set to nestle together as a fortification capable of keeping out wildlife and give security to those within. Three great roads intersect at this town; the one you travel upon from the south, one from the east, and one from the west. A great wooded area as far as the eye can see stretches behind the Township, to the north. Cutting through the town to one side is a running river. The walls are built to accommodate its flow, working with it rather than struggling against, as if the river had a part to play in the town's operation. It pauses briefly to form a small lake just outside of town before meandering elsewhere in the region.

Notable upon your approach is a fortified sign of black iron and rich wood which labeled this place as The Township of Avonshire. This place stood as the true start to your adventures in the region, beckoning with its quaint rural charm mixed with a bustle of an active settlement.

Though it has been said before, it bears repeating: Welcome to Avonshire.

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Let's get a little business out of the way first, shall we? 126 silver coins were looted from the Goblin's corpses. A total of 11 daggers, 4 shortswords, 2 shortbows, and three empty quivers were also recovered (minus that which was already claimed by characters), so far as weapons went. Also on the bodies but not taken were sets of leather armor that were best left with the corpses. Curiously, there was also a long letter written upon several sheets of coarse vellum, wrapped in leather. The language is not familiar to anyone in the party. Also found among and around the ashes of the fire were a handful of metal coat buttons, likely from the clothing of the deceased.

Farms, both large and small, are more common along the road and visible among the hills surrounding the Township. They become more closely packed the nearer one gets to the town proper, but none directly adjacent or connecting to Avonshire. This clear but unutilized land, probably originally a protective feature, has become host to many tents and organized campsites in the interim. Wagons appear to be used as temporary lodging for a number of people. Families hung laundry on hastily improvised lines, merchants sold fruit, bread, potatoes, etc. to the masses, and teamsters established roped boundaries for their animals in these places. The smell of cookfires and stews mixed with upturned earth and horseflesh in this area, establishing all of the sensations common to human habitation with the exception of the more acrid aromas of industry. There was the overall feel of a great event gearing up in the near future - one which could draw a crowd from all over the region.

Just to the east of the Township and near the forested area to the north stood a graveyard, likely the largest one in the area. It featured a few scattered trees, mausoleums of fitted stone, and the ubiquitous rows of granite or marble gravemarkers, down to simple wooden affairs. A wrought-iron fence surrounded the whole of it.

A huge banner reached across the southern gate into the Township, clearly printed letters standing out so that it can be read easily from a great distance. It read, "Harvestide", and it was a safe bet that similar ones were hung across the other gates. This was a word the party had heard mentioned in snatched of conversation among the tent-dwellers they passed by, and was actually mentioned with some importance by official folk back in Darenby. The other gates had a moderate amount of traffic entering and exiting, laden with goods in the form of crates, bushels, and no small amount of barrels. The road from the south (your road) seems blessedly empty. No traffic coming from the same direction as yourself, and no traffic exiting Avonshire headed south.

The approach to the southern gate was relatively open. A few permament buildings stood outside of the walls, technically part of the town and likely for specific prupose. The gate itself was flung open wide to admit whomever wished entry, with two guards were stationed there as a token presence to sort out the extremely obvious in the way of troublemakers. Naturally, a group of mismatched, combat ready persons in a caravan of two, bearing Goblin ears on a string no less, did draw attention.

As an example of the unexpected but apparently benign, a man wearing common clothing, simple sandals, and a wide brim hat of natural fibers approaches from the area near the lake. He has a few smallish to medium sized fish on a line carried in one hand, and a stout fishing pole slung over one shoulder. Cheery of disposition, he walks right by the wagons, pausing only long enough to issue a salutation: "G'mornin! Nice day for fishing, ain't it?" followed immediately by a chuckle of, "Huah huh!" He does not stop for response, but continues merrily on his way into town.

Just inside of the gate, a bustle of activity which had nothing to do with merchant traffic nor the upcoming Harvestide could be witnessed. A group of maybe twenty men, mostly commoners from the look of them, stood boasting and reassuring one another of their solid masculinity, despite the nervous looks of many. Their presence blocked off any more forward movement from the wagons, forcing a full stop. They were armed with simple spears and the like, except for three of them who actually appeared to be professional fighting men of some sort. Leading them was a lean fellow possessing a hard set to his eyes, grey sharply influencing the once sandy brown hair of the man. He wore a shortsword at his side, and carried a noteworthy, well crafted warhammer that he held with familiar reverence. Speaking to this man were two women, one a woman of maturity with a worried, shocked expression and the other no more than thirteen or fourteen of age. The older of the two suddenly looked to the group and pointed, calling out, "There it is! Constable Cavendish, there it is! Oh, praise be to the Light!"

Just as relieved but a little more pragmatic, the younger asked aloud, "Is Grandpa with them, Auntie? Can you see him?" Relief appeared to be contagious, as many of the men huffed out great sighs and muttered not-so-silent platitudes to whomever was listening above that they didn't have to go out looking for diminutive green bandits, armed with whatever cheap militia weapons were issued to them.

The Auntie of the pair opened her mouth to answer the young lady, but was instead cut off by the man in charge. "Don't you worry, child. I already told you everything will be alright, so, I am going to see for myself. Don't you move." Constable Cavendish sauntered up to the wagons with a practiced swagger, patting the head of his very spiffy hammer with the palm of his hand for emphasis of his air of authority.

Whereas the younger lady did not move, the older followed along behind Cavendish. Eyes went to all of those visible in the party, hovering briefly over the string of Goblin ears. He paused, letting any wrong impression that might have crept up do so, then cleared his throat and began, "I'm Cavendish, Constable of the Avonshire Township. I want all of you to please step out in the open and tell me what happened. 'Cause, it looks like we got us some heroes here. Now, heroes are welcome in my Township, but I got to make sure. So..." He leaned his hammer over his shoulder and cocked his head to one side, "You good, law abiding folk who did a good turn, or did you just kill some bandits and take their plunder for yourselves? Speak up now. What's your business here?"

Trying to give some softness to the otherwise scratchy situation, the lady behind Mr. Cavendish spoke up, saying, "I'm sure they're just lovely people, sir." and then to the group, "Hello there, um, I'm Cecily L'Rose. That's my niece Lizbeth back there, and, if you're okay with it, I would like to talk to you after the Constable. We're so happy to see you, really." Nervous and uncertain smiles came from both Cecily and Lizbeth, unsure themselves if they were talking to good folk or bloodthirsty mercenary types, yet willing to give the benefit of the doubt - to an extent.

Cavendish shot a look back at her, but soon returned his attention to the group. His eyebrow raise was practically insisting on answers.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@Dragoknighte@rivaan@Remipa Awesome@Lewascan2@Sigil

Post is up. Please remember that we are indeed still in the Narrative, and everyone has a one day extension. I would remind that waiting until the last hour possible makes me weep uncontrollably, but as we're behind screens I still maintain plausible deniability. You will notice that we have come to just inside of the Township, and as long as your post contains reactions to that, pretty much everything else is good to go, within reason.

Now might be a good time to discuss divvying up treasure found along the way, and what you might do as a group if something more solidly treasure is received. Now is also a good time to decide whether the party is going to be transparent, and with whom, or whether you are sticking to the cover story. In any case, we have officially arrived at the investigation and shenanigans part of this adventure. There will be opportunities to poke around town. Same goes for roleplaying opportunities with the locals. You might get into a scrape or two. And yes, there are events which are time dependent, the most obvious one being the Harvestide celebration. And remember, there is a shiny Milestone level at the end of this. Be thinking ahead.

Go ahead and ask about things which happened along the way, if you want a more in-depth explanation of how things look or where things are. There are no dumb questions. Well, until you ask a dumb question and then I'll let you know.

Good luck!

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@Dragoknighte@rivaan@Remipa Awesome@Lewascan2@Sigil

Dragoknighte as asked for and received an extension until Friday, February 18th, citing acceptable reasons for said extension. If any ongoing IC stuff with Marita the Cleric cannot be postponed, please get with me and we'll handle a workaround for the time being. Otherwise we will proceed as normal, all things considered. Please adjust reactions accordingly.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@Dark Cloud

Regretfully, yes. There is one slot open for a specific member of the RP community, but to the general public there are presently two others who have priority. Time and finances permitting, I would love to run multiple one-shots and campaigns for as many dice goblins as I could, but reality is a cruel mistress.

Feel free to submit a character using the rules provided if you want, with the understanding that it could be a while. And I do appreciate your interest in my little adventure.

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: Avonshire Region, roadside, post-battle Action: N/A Bonus Action: N/A Reaction: N/A

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A tiny smile grew on Victoria's face. It was slight at first, prompting her to maneuver her dagger elsewhere for a moment that she might politely cover her mouth with a free hand. But as the sideways counterpoint to the answer she gave about what possessed her continued, the signs of secondhand embarrassment for her fellow Half-Elf began to show around her eyes, until the quiet covering of her mouth turned into a full facepalm. She closed her eyes as to avoid the overt showing of a eyeroll so profound it might have been confused for a coming seizure. The young Bard tried as best she could not to let her frame shimmy from the giggle she held back, in hopes of maintaining her composure while there was still serious work to be done. There was simply too much that was off about the statements given, yet they were issued with such steadfast conviction; and so she wasn't sure where to begin. Perhaps it was best not to.

When the lengthy condescension concluded, Victoria could only shake her head a little, and propose an alternate course of action. "Maybe..." She had to pause, her tone bearing just a little too much mirth to be taken with the decorum for which she was aiming. Clearing her throat, she tried again, this time with enough diplomacy and compassion in her delivery that it at least sounded sincere, "Maybe we shouldn't speak to each other for a while." She nodded slowly as she spoke, eyes on Hugh, "Yes, that would be best."

Another smile, this one with more genuine cheer involved, showed itself when Kathryn returned with the oxen. Victoria waved to her as she came closer, and moved to speak to her once more. Being as she was the one involved, and they seemed to have already come to a settled understanding prior to this latest dredge of patronizing chatter, Victoria wanted to make sure that the open declaration of peace and friendship that was issued very publicly just before still held, despite other factors. Getting along with one's party was preferable to not, in her opinion. "Oh, Kat!" she called, bouncing up on her toes a couple of times as she waved. "Hey girl, look... I want to make sure we're okay. Okay? Like, are we okay? If you don't say we're okay, I'm going to keep saying 'okay', okay?" Her burgeoning use of the word which bordered on humored annoyance was punctuated by a charismatic smile that seemed to warm her whole outward appearance despite the fact that she was still bearing a loaded handful of severed Goblin ears.

"We're good," responded Kathryn, still seeing to her task with the oxen. With an affirming nod, she summarized plainly, "Yeah." It was honest enough, and was received as such.

"Okay!" came the bubbly musings of a relieved Bard. "First drink is on me when we get to town!" This rectified mishap settled once and for all, she hoped, Victoria moved on to other business. Her demeanor shifted from personable to dead professional in the second it took to turn around.

The first thing she did was visit the wine merchant's wagon. There was good canvas there, thin and strong, with cordage to tie it down if necessary. She took a length of the cord and used it to string up her prize of eleven Goblin ears; all lefties. These remained with the wagon, hung in an obvious place to the casual observer. She inspected the wagon and the oxen attached to it, giving a satisfied "Hmm." The suggestion from Marita about splitting up wagon detail seemed as good as any. Downright logical, even. And keeping Kosara with their lent vehicle made sense for her, as she was learning - driving behind another wagon gave the mule a logical stopping and starting point, especially as it was trained to pull an army wagon. This would help a lot. "Good idea!" she called to the Cleric, her mind already preparing for what she might tell Kosara about being in a wagon train. "I'll take this one!" she announced, laying her claim.

There was one other task which drew her attention. More than this, one of the few things that inspired a sense of duty from the woman. Victoria acquired the canvas from the back of the wine merchant's wagon and solemnly made her way over to the campfire. The bones of the departed remained, along with the blackened skin and now very well done flesh of the foot roasting above. She delicately gathered each bone that was possible to gather, some of the smaller bones notwithstanding as they were consumed by the fire. They were placed in the piece of canvas as respectfully as she was able. Many had obvious marks from small, pointed teeth scraping across them to remove all of the tender, human-y flesh. The remains of the leg were another ordeal. It was a far more fleshy affair than the rest, and needed a little more time to store properly. A stroke of gruesome luck emerged when the lion's share of soft tissue parted from the bones as it was raised away from the fire. It plopped into the coals with a squelching hisssss, leaving a small amount of steaming meat left to cling upon the osseous tissue, which was quickly shaken off. These creatures had cooked it low, slow, and well done.

Victoria took a moment to pick up and give regard to a few finger bones of the deceased individual, poring over them in a seemingly studious manner before pouring them back with the rest. mental notes on the state of them were taken, very little ascertained about their nature. Her hand retreated to a pouch at her side briefly and then she made a sprinkling motion above the assembled skeleton. There wasn't much else to do. Slowly, she rolled the canvas around her new bundle and tucked it into the merchant wagon. "Can anyone help me get this coffin loaded up, please?" Morty, ever present as he was, did not have the height nor thumbs which might have been useful in this endeavor. They needed to get moving soon.

_{Kathryn was bunnied with permission from her player.}