Sigil

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Rose River Vineyard

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Coach House

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Weather: Actual cold has settled around the countryside, with one island of refuge within the Coach House. It is dark now, and the moisture of the previous hours is settling into a moderate fog, settling in the lower places of the moors and vineyard.

Time: Early nighttime. There might be almost enough light to comfortably see by right this moment, but swiftly, the dying of the day is upon you. The dim and cool have passed, giving way to the dark and cold.

Ambience: The bastion of rural comfort known as the Coach House continues to warm, nourish, and provide a welcoming atmosphere, despite the best efforts of its inhabitants (unintentional or otherwise). The dominant sensory experiences remain the crackling fire, the grapeseed oil lamps, and riveting conversation. Despite the drama of the moment, an observer might not note any great amount of tension in the overall feel of events.

*****

Amid the chaos exploding within the taproom in direct contrast to the civilized and impartial negotiations from the table, Lizbeth seemed invested. Invigorated even, as both talks and conflict drew to a cease. The stereotyped actions of professional adventurers were present for all to see, and the girl could just imagine herself in a seedy watering hole or place of ill reputation with dangerous people, contributing what skills she intended to acquire over the winter in pursuit of arcane lore, compelling quests, or rumors of that most coveted thing of all - loot. When Urmdrus gave the nod to help with her martial training, her expression became positively giddy. Reading the room, she remained quiet.

Urmdrus, on the other hand, kept stoic. There might have been the slightest flicker of something when the word "Duergar" was mentioned, but that passed instantly. He was still waiting, buckets in hand, for others to say something on the subject. Kathryn's formal introduction and notion that she was looking forward to the arrangement was enough of a confirmation for the older Dwarf, who nodded at the tall lady and gave a gruff "Hrm," to acknowledge. The words of Baronfjord required a little more explanation if he chose to answer, and one of his questions repeated that of the Bard's. It was probably one, he reasoned, to which he would have to give a response. "Make many things. Not a magician, but make many things." Staring at his unshod feet, Urmdrus further responded to the Dragonborn, "Chitin alone, not good as leather, wool for warmth." He snorted. "Good enough shoecrafter in Southmoor." But to the question now asked twice: "Assassin armor - Ankheg reinforcing leather. Segmented. Boil in oil to shape quickly, shape custom. Flexible. Tough. Ankheg plate, ankheg shield - soak in piss. Dry. Treat with oil, alcohol, fire. Chitin becomes strong like metal. Like alchemy." The last word, "alchemy," gave him a touch of trouble. But he managed nonetheless.

The tattooed Dwarf gave Victoria her own affirming nod and dropped the buckets abruptly to the floor. "Collect tomorrow after first meal." He held up a warning finger, saying flatly, "Just piss." He said this with the tenacity of a person with a specific incident in mind that still troubled him to the day. He even shuddered a little. But the questions were answered, the deal was struck, and he got some food out of it. A grunt and scratch of his nose later, Urmdrus turned and stomped back out the way he came in. To his credit, he did treat the door a little better this time. "...just piss..." he murmured to himself, trudging to the storage building within the Coach House's exterior walls and grabbing the chitin from inside, plus a respectable (but not too greedy portion of the flesh within. It took him three trips to snag everything he needed and place it into a work cart just outside of the Coach House, whereupon he lugged it off to parts unknown, presumably elsewhere in the landscape of the vineyard.

Lizbeth immediately sprung to work, gathering up dishes that needed to be cleaned and packing up unclaimed food which needed storage or disposal. Lucky for her, the night air would be plenty up to the task of short term preservation, so the majority of anything untouched (or minimally touched) went into baskets to be hung in the storage building on racks placed for this purpose. They were the same ones that held what remained of the Ankheg, so she made sure to put some distance between them. Before too long, only a moment or three, Lizbeth returned to the taproom and began to clean up the worst of the mess, what mess remained from the meal. "Aunt Ceecee usually sends people to handle cleaning when we have guests. But some things can't wait until morning." Her cheerfulness seemed to have no bounds, speaking with something close to glee even though the mundanity of chores and servants' schedules were being discussed. "But if it's alright with all of you, I am quite exhausted and I shall be readying to lay my head down. Excuse me?" With a skip to her step, almost a canter, the young lady began to gather her things and prepare for bed.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Victoria Belmont Half-Elf, Bard, Level 5 HP: 33 / 33 Armor Class: 15 Conditions: N/A Location: The Coach House (Taproom) Action: N/A Bonus Action: N/A Reaction: N/A

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The duality of adventuring life was not lost on Victoria. They had participated in an event that had shaken the Township of Avonshire from its rough log walls to the cobblestones of its streets. They had battled back things conceived in nightmares and had their brains scratched by a power beyond their immediate comprehension. They were compensated for their time, though in Victoria's opinion not remotely enough. The Bard herself had several small ways to express herself artistically and socially, mostly in the form of music. As she was a bit of an extrovert, her social proclivities were sated by traveling to a new spot and meeting new people, even if it was just this one odd, ill-mannered Dwarf. But to the point of Victoria's train of thought on the situation unfolding, these were ways in which she unwound, whereas her new adventuring party saw fit to get hammered and flop about the confines of their lent vacation home. By every merciful god in the heavens above (and a few that weren't), Victoria hoped it would stay in the confines of their lent vacation home. For the life of her, she could not fathom the overall goal aside from just blowing off some steam.

It did appear that the responsibilities of negotiator and babysitter fell to her, which earned the rest of their group a raised eyebrow and annoyed look. Maybe two. But these she smoothed over, intent on getting back to the tasks set to her. "If I may, Master Urmdrus?" She used the honorific presented by Lizbeth first, unsure as to whether it had specific or general meaning in this land but hoping that, even if it wasn't appropriate, the attempt to emulate custom would be appreciated. "To your earlier address with Miss Lizbeth; her suggesting a course of action when she hasn't full accounting of the proceedings aside, how else will she learn? I do appreciate that you have no objection to her presence as we come to an agreement."

The blatant appropriation of a portion of their supper from the older, grey Dwarf was not missed. It was not a point worth arguing over, even if it was rather rude. The stony bastard was really pushing the phrasing of their earlier narrative, Victoria observed. "Perhaps another time, I might allow you to indulge in of some of my smoked pork. To be open, there has been an element of magic in its preservation." It was at this time that Urmdrus spotted Morty, standing as still as death in to the side of the room. He looked from the undead thrall to Victoria, who simply sat smiling with an otherwise neutral expression. To her surprise, the Dwarf nodded. It was not the nod of one accepting an offer so much as it was clarity of understanding. Nevertheless, Victoria continued as if it was precisely such an acceptance. "Excellent," she almost purred. "I shall make sure to set some aside for you."

With what felt like the vast majority of the business talk out off the way and a better understanding of one another, Victoria looked to address the last of the points at large and make one more request. "As the only one on this side of the negotiation that is paying attention, I agree to your caveat. Or rather, I will if you will agree to one of mine." Victoria looked around at the minor spellcasting, fleet acts of manual dexterity, and demonstrations of alcohol-fueled shenanigans. "Make my armor second. Take your time; really pour yourself into it. I've heard tales of ...Duergar? Duergar craftsmanship. I should wish to see this for myself." Victoria topped off her glass of white wine and raised it tentatively toward Urmdrus, who raised his tankard and clinked his drinking vessel to hers. He began to drink. Victoria followed.

When their drinks were drained, Victoria refilled her glass once again, saying, "Now that we have come to an understanding, Master Urmdrus, I am curious about two things. One, would you like another ale? By all means, please serve yourself. And two, why do you need us to 'piss in the bucket', hmm?" More questions might follow, but these demanded more immediate attention. Especially that second one.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Rose River Vineyard

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Coach House

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Weather: It is a moderate sort of cold now, advancing against the retreating daylight. Tiny, icy wisps of rain occasionally find their way groundward, though referring to the event as rain, proper, is generous.

Time: Dusk. There might be almost enough light to comfortably see by right this moment, but swiftly, the dying of the day is upon you.

Ambience: The taproom has warmed up to a quite pleasant, aromatically pleasing experience. Burning lamps filled with grapeseed oil, burning hearth wood, and the continued scent of the meal hung in the air with a comfortable presence. Simple but well-crafted flatware and dishes clink together, providing a special sort of background noise with the crackling fire. The fire and lamplight flicker with mellow orange and yellow illumination dancing along the walls and furniture.

*****

The mood of the Coach House turned from the serious to the remarkably less serious in a short amount of time. The majority of it, anyway. There lay a single island of direct and serious conversation still at the table where the majority of the evening's repast was lain. Not complete and total, dread serious, however. Master Urmdrus now had exactly as many foamy mugs of ale as he had hands, and it seemed like that was the way he preferred it. He cocked a curious eye in the direction of Kathryn when she spoke to him, tiny elements of distrust crossing his face with the flattery as it grew into something truly worthy of springtime fertilizer, but the ale sanded out the rougher spots of his mood. Or appeared to. It was difficult to tell with this particular Dwarf. It did manifest the intended effect of making Urmdrus more willing to hear out Victoria's counter-offer.

Lizbeth took to being quiet, for the most part. The overall mood shifted when the Bard began to speak, especially as the first part of it was too similar to levying an accusation. She did make one, tentative suggestion over her bowl of soup, "Maybe if we're counting everyone getting even shares, we should split all of the unused stuff evenly? Like, what they don't want for their armors and..."

She was swiftly albeit respectfully silenced by the wiry Dwarf, with a sudden look and intonation of, "You are not old enough to barter by Human years yet. I trade with these people, who brought me good chitin. Another year, little more, I can listen. Not yet." He turned back to Victoria and the rest of the group (who may or may not have gotten up to various levels of shenaniganry at this point) and hefted one of his mugs to his face. Nary a drop was wasted as he downed the liquid fermentation of local grains and set the drinking vessel upon the table. "Hmm. Not to barter with food. Shows respect." He leaned over the table to grab a small loaf of bread and some soup for dipping with the surety of a person who owned the place, else had the implicit trust of those who did. "Okay."

Urmdrus allowed the word to marinate in the moment while he chewed heavily on a chunk of orange-soaked bread. He then noisily slurped down a good portion of his second mug of ale, belched quietly(ish) and nodded. "Good." Then louder, so that the others could hear, "Good." I make the armor reinforcement for the tall one, assassin armor for Violin Lady. Hair decoration and ...hot weather garb... I make with armor cutting extras. But I keep enough to make... he struggled with the word in Common for a moment, "...cuirass. Yes. And shield. This is made first. Then one piece to do what I want - this is last." Anyone keeping up with the math on the deal as it was unfolding would realize that this actually placed him at a position where he claimed even less than the current deal. "Will cook Ankheg for us all tomorrow, if you give more of..." Urmdrus raised his empty mug of ale whilst simultaneously downing the remainder of the other.

A hearty belch later and the Dwarf raised from his seat and stomped toward the door. He stepped just outside and unceremoniously dragged in two wooden buckets that he had apparently brought with him. "We drink on this. I start tomorrow early. Also - piss in the buckets. All of you. Need this. I will collect tomorrow morning. Deal?"

Lizbeth began to sidle off, away from the table. She cast her eyes over to the random shenanigans the rest of the group was getting up to and wondered it it was slightly more sane than the conversation the was almost a part of. She did venture one question toward the older Dwarf: "Master Urmdrus, you'll teach me how to be a fighter with Lady Kathryn, too?" The obviously far-from-home Dwarf gave a stout nod, but remained unspeaking in hopes of getting an answer from the party before continuing.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@rivaan@Shoe Thief@Sigil@Arty Fox

Huzzah, huzzah!

Okay, maybe I gave that minor celebration a little too early. But a better deal has been struck, if the party accepts it. Unfortunately, if the plans mentioned in the OOC Lounge is any indicator of what's going to go down this posting cycle, then we have an interesting IC night ahead of us. Best of luck, I suppose. Things could be worse. All in all, I guess it's fair enough to say that everyone should enjoy the moment, for however long those moments last until the bottom drops out and we remember that we're in an investigation and combat oriented forum fantasy RPG. So pay attention to those details, keep your swords handy, and make sure your spellbooks are legibly inked.

Oh, but remember: You're on vacation, right?

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Victoria Belmont Half-Elf, Bard, Level 5 HP: 33 / 33 Armor Class: 15 Conditions: N/A Location: Rose River Vineyard (Coach House) Action: Persuasion Check (30!!!) (Help Action from Kathryn) Bonus Action: N/A Reaction: N/A

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Victoria had it in her mind to answer the interests put to her by the rest of her fellow adventurers. It sounded like the first real occasion that they sounded interested in the details of her background and circumstances. To be perfectly fair, it was also probably the only time she opened up about herself whatsoever. Baronfjord was right to question her motivation to study Bardic Necromancy, being as she was the overly social, pretty-of-face magic user who more or less openly had an undead thrall at her side to use as a pack animal. But this first, truly open conversation would be postponed by the circumstances of the evening. In this instance, the arrival of an uninvited Dwarf. Though to look at him, this wasn't exactly the standard issue hill or mountain dwelling son of Moradin to which she had been accustomed in her travels.

It was a pity. Victoria did truly feel like opening up just then.

Victoria listened to the sales pitch given by the industrious fellow. She did not truly know the full value of the Ankheg chitin, having heard only rumors of its use and only half-told rumors, at that. But she had the wherewithal to realize that this Dwarf valued it highly if he was going to offer rare services for their scraps and extras. More than that, it was possible that he was attempting to lowball them. Yes, he had skill. But he had no product upon which to ply it. So Victoria endeavored to push the craftsman's sense of ethic. The first step was to put him on the defensive. "Master Urmdrus? I apologize if my more sylvan tongue does not do your name justice, good sir, but if you will allow me to interject?" The others had given their blessings, it looked like, and the deal did sound good, but more might be wrung from this. She continued, "My pardon, please, but did I hear correctly that you knew we were lent the right to this building by the L'Roses, and then came to place without invitation, looked through our belongings in storage, and entered here without so much as a knock at the door?"

She let the accusatory question hang in the air for a half moment before continuing, "I understand. Well, I understand a little. Madame Cecily said this building wasn't in use recently and you are the resident crafter here. It was a minor oversight in the face of a long time of unfettered access. But I must insist that we all become better friends before such familiarity is appreciated."

Victoria looked like she was losing Urmdrus, or that her words her falling on annoyed, deaf ears until Kathryn offered the guy a mug of the local ale from the bar. And prior to them striking an official deal. This seemed to perk the Dwarf up significantly. A fresh mug of foamy goodness in hand, he indicated for Victoria to continue. Or get to the point. Whichever. The Bardiest of Necrobards breathed a quiet thanks to the presently inebriated Kathryn for better speaking Urmdrus's language than herself, and proposed a counteroffer. "Thank you. Please, pull up a seat." A deep breath in, back out, and then, "I have a good idea of what we have. Not expert by any means, but a passable approximation. And I understand that you are the skilled craftsman here. But the fact is, we are the only ones in... well, quite a ways that could properly appreciate the gift of your armor. The soldiers have uniform gear they have to use, just as Avonshire town guards. There are precious few mercenaries and we, I believe, are the only Adventurers in the area; certainly the only ones who brought this material to you. In the spring, if Ankhegs are even spotted, the locals will either avoid them or put them into a stewpot, provided they don't leave them to rot."

With an amount of humility to her movements, Victoria poured a second mug of ale and placed it next to Urmdrus, then returned to her own glass of wine. "And once we come to a more evened deal, I should be joyous to drink with you, Master Urmdrus. In fact, I should wish to learn more or your homeland and the stories they tell, if it pleases you to speak of it." She smiled warmly, giving the outward appearance of gratitude and interest. Her words to come did not support this assumption, however. "The fixed amount of goods you have discussed means that you walk away with the far greater share of the chitin. As for the steaks, I say have at them. Food should never be a bargaining chip. I find it uncouth at best. Take what you feel is fair, and if anyone else has a difficulty with this, take it from my share and eat in good health, sir."

A small sip of wine, and Victoria addressed the issue of the chitin itself. "Your skill will create beautiful things, I am confident. But we risked our lives to get this. Blood was shed. Assuming that your skills play as important a role in this enterprise, I would say that this entitles you to an equal share of the shell, and nothing more. I will also concede that you might have something in mind, else you wouldn't have come to visit so immediately. Your project comes from your share, and the rest of the chitin remains open to discussion for further use at a later time. Unless you wish to renegotiate with an equivalent in gold, which I will be more than satisfied to entertain."

"As for me personally, you were speaking of a light, strong armor that can be concealed under clothing - I am very interested in this. Maybe a bauble or two so that I may properly commemorate this occasion when I do not wish to wear armor, and praise the handiwork of Master Urmdrus the Craftsdwarf and Armorer to those in my social circles who would listen." Victoria raised her glass and held it out in front of her. "This is the deal I propose, and I will most certainly drink on it, sir."

While Victoria could not tell what Urmdrus was thinking, she could have sworn that she saw the older Dwarf trying to hold back a smile. Or a sneer. It was hard to tell.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@rivaan@Shoe Thief@Sigil@Arty Fox

Well, here we are again. A new cast member has been added, with several clues as to their origin and a possible deal is on the table. Then again, is blind trust in this strange guy really the best option? Or was this a carefully crafted piece of luck? FIND OUT IN THE NEXT EPISODE OF AVONSHIREBALL Z!!! (Okay, sorry, had to.) Basically nothing has been resolved from the last post to this one, and that's actually just fine, seeing as there's some good RP action going on and the interaction is comfortable. You all do what you're doing, if it works for you.

That said, Master Urmdrus has been hinted at for a month or so, and here he is. Whether he becomes a Jacques Mallard or a Constable Cavendish is fully up for debate, but he seems interested in something you have and has opened with an offer. Do with this what you will. Per usual, contact me with needs, questions, or dice shenanigans in our Discord, and may whatever god looks out for adventurers (Nuada actually, in this pantheon) smile on the lot of you.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Rose River Vineyard

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Coach House

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Weather: Mostly cloudy. It is becoming actually cold now, rather than merely chilly outside. the tiniest hints of precipitation still find their way to the earth below.

Time: Early evening. The sky is a lovely shade of deepening purple with the arriving twilight.

Ambience: The taproom's mildly uncomfortable temperature had been successfully abated by a pleasant mixture of the hearthfire, grapeseed oil lanterns, and the movement of active bodies within. The warm and filling meal, admittedly, did a fair amount of the work as well. Lamplight flickers along the walls in pleasant ways, giving cheery illumination. Scents of good food and better wine linger in the air, mixing with the pleasant lamp oil and burning hardwood. In short, it's rather nice.

*****

Lizbeth looked over the drawings of the interesting flora and fauna of the desertous regions past the mountains far to the south with interest. There were occasions where she would ask a small, supporting question like, "Does its face look like a horse's or is it different?" and observations such as, "So it's like thistle stems, but spinier. Okay." and "Grandpa said that you need to have friends in the desert, or you would proably die. Is that what it's really like?" Even the somewhat darker thought of, "So if the camels also store water, how do you get it back out?" was voiced. The last one had a somewhat unsettling smile attached to it.

The young lady kept her discussion about the Tinker's son rather terse, apparently preferring not to dwell upon it for very long. But she did answer openly. "He is clever, and good with his hands, like his papa. They only come by once in a while to see if we needed anything repaired that Urmdrus hadn't gotten to yet. Sometimes I would drop something of mine from a window or hit it with a hammer just so he might fix it, if I saw the Tinker's wagon coming up the lane." While her wish to speak about herself and her crush was repressed presently, her duties as a host were not. Seeing the growing state in which Kathryn was putting herself, Lizbeth rose from her chair and fetched a sizeable portion of bread and soup to help fortify Kathryn's blood against the less desirable effects of the wine, as well as a flagon of water. "Maybe we won't start training so early tomorrow, Lady Kathryn. It'll be okay." She smiled in a genuinely kind and nurturing way.

Oddly, Baronfjord's question put her a little off guard for a second. She recovered. "I really wouldn't mind having an adventure or two before settling down and having to take care of the family Vineyard, and Aunt Cecily tells me that the soldiers train for two or three months before they get into the Royal Army. With a real-life Knight training just me, I'm sure we can make me as good as any line soldier in like ...half that time! And all the rest of you showing me good things, there's no telling what kind of adventurer I might become before winter is done!"

Lizbeth was about to address Victoria concerning what Victoria had said about her upbringing, even with a familiar look on her face. But the moment she opened up to speak, the main door to the Coach House burst open, admitting an abrupt figure. The gloom of twilight silhouetted a figure of shortish stature and a shorn-bald head. As the figure moved into the room proper, the door swung back shut and the firelight revealed the sudden visitor. It was a Dwarf male, from the look of him. He had a thick beard, braided at the edges and cut to a straight across, broom-like shape at its end. His skin was a stony shade of grey, marked with thick, black, tattooed lines on the left side of his face. The build of this particular Dwarf was a little un-Dwarflike - he was broad of shoulder but slender of limb, with ropes of hard, sinewy muscle standing out in his bare arms. The Dwarf wore thick woolen garb, stitched for practicality rather than fashion and sturdy leather boots with metal toecaps and heels. A laden toolbelt was slung about his waist with items from a half dozen professions present, some of which would easily double as weapons.

He spoke to Lizbeth first. "Lizbeth. Safe, very good. Heard what you say just then. Maybe come to me; learn soldier craft." He spoke with a strange accent; strange at least for a Dwarf from anywhere around this region. Also, he phrased his words as a person for whom the Common tongue of trade was learned later in life.

Lizbeth cheerfully exclaimed, "Master Urmdrus!"

A quick "Harrumph," and he continued, "Tomas say your friends have Ankheg in storage. I look in storage. There is a lot." His eyes moved from person to person in the taproom, sizing them all up with scrutinizing glares. "Hum. Yes. You all save the women of L'Rose. I will help you. Help comes with barter. Yes?" Without waiting, he continued with his offer, "Few steaks of good bug meat, first. What remains of the chitin when I finish with it, second. Do what I want with it. In return, help. Chitin makes good armor. Weightless armor. Durable, light shields. Shows enemies you killed Ankheg. Reinforce Human chain with tough green plates. Reinforce leather, hide under clothes. As good as Underdark centipede shell for armor. Deal with me?"

His eyes found the cask of ale on the bar and he licked his lips lightly. Cocking an eye back to the group, he suggested, "Drink on this deal?"

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Victoria Belmont Half-Elf, Bard, Level 5 HP: 33 / 33 Armor Class: 15 Conditions: N/A Location: Rose River Vineyard (Coach House) Action: Spellcasting, Minor Illusion Bonus Action: N/A Reaction: N/A

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And odd, strangely guarded expression came over Victoria's generally serene face when Kathryn gave the hypothetical of her voice dropping a few octaves. She quickly adopted a more or less genial smile to brush it away with a polite "Thank you, Ser Kathryn." A small sip from her glass and a touch of thought later, she continued her response, "I assure you, I am emphatically common-born. Unless you count my Elven heritage, which some Humans do." Seeing that others had raised an eyebrow at this concept, Victoria related further, "My parents are independently wealthy; they are considered 'New Money'. After making their fortunes in the world, they invested in properties, transportation, goods, et cetera. They are now successful merchants with a respectable network for trade."

Victoria settled into her seat proper and pulled her bowl of soup a little nearer. She unfolded a napkin and placed it into her lap, angling a spoon to take agreeable portions of the thick, yummy dish to her mouth. After a bite or two (and a polite affirmation to Lizbeth on the quality), she continued. "Up-and-coming traders move from the outskirts of the capitol of the realm and settle in a rich trade city nestled between the sea and the forest a short jaunt away. Then they hire private tutors which were previously only available to the children of Barons and Viscounts, but for whom gold is the final arbiter of their insecurities involving the Class Divide." It seemed that there was always a separation between the social classes that having wealth might move one up toward, but never fully breach. "And while those of a bluer bloodline adore people like myself and my ...cousin..." Victoria took the moment to conjure up a flat, unmoving image of a Half-Elf with striking, dignified features, dressed in dark finery. The familial resemblance was positively uncanny.

Her face took on a mildly bitter expression as she gazed upon the image she had cast into view. She swiftly righted herself and completed her thought. "...as we're both quite pretty and are in high demand for society events - especially noteworthy funerals - people like us are regularly reminded that we are not of the true, blood-right aristocracy of the land. I can walk among them, speak like them, know what they know, and even have more money as a family than a some of them. But I assure you, regardless of how well known the Belmonts of Ashhaven are known (and we most certainly are known, within circles) I am most definitely not one of the nobility." Victoria did break into a genuine smile over her wine glass as she voiced her following thought, "Though my sisters are convinced that at least one of them shall marry a prince."

Victoria was feeling quite talkative in the moment, and moved on to address the questions raised about her knowledge of wines and discerning the qualities therein from just a taste. "Now, Father was the roguish type (according to Mother, who insists he has gotten much better recently) but he had a discerning palate and wanted his children to share that trait. No doubt someone like Madmoiselle Lizbeth has a better grasp on this than myself, but even I can tell you that the circumstances of the grape's growth, maturity, processing, and aging, not to mention what kind of grape it is, leaves elements of flavor, aroma, texture in the finished wine. You just have to know how to interpret the signs it reveals. I can do so as a cosmopolitan sipper of fine vintages. The people who live and work here would make me look like a sanctimonious novice. Even the laborers would have an intimate knowledge of the local wines."

She waved off her latest statement as a bit of a digression from her overall point. Getting back to it, she continued, "The longer lifespan that the Elven half of my lineage provides next to my Human neighbors meant that I was still comparatively young when my formal studies drew to a conclusion. My family allowed me to take to the road with their caravans to receive a broader, more worldly, less formal education on other cultures, and relevant to this conversation, the local flavors of their wines, among other things."

Another sip, another gesture, "Or to put it with incredible simplicity, my proclivity to Necromancy aside, I am a Bard. I know a little bit about a lot of things." Her smile was prideful, maybe even a bit cocky as she spoke, swirling the wine in her glass around. She glanced back to the illusory image of the handsome young Half-Elf she identified as her cousin, shook her head slightly, and flicked her fingers at it. The spell faded into the ether like sugar dissolving under pouring water.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@rivaan@Shoe Thief@Sigil@Arty Fox

Okay, everyone roll for Initiative. Ahem, sorry. The evening progresses as one might expect it to. I mean, it's perfectly normal to have people wait hand and foot on road-traveling adventuring types in a charming, rolling estate full of generational wealth and suspiciously successful grape harvests for large scale wine production, right? And because it's so normal, it's really a good time to get nice and sloppy on extremely fine wine they're just giving you, bottle after bottle, cask after cask. There's no reason to get paranoid at all, now is there?

Well good on ya! I'm proud of your levels of trust. Now to business:

The issues with room selection and topping off the meal are still on the table, if you want to get into specifics. To be clear, you have the full run of the Coach House, so if you really want to stay in the servants' quarters near the stable you can do that. Or set up a bedroll near the taproom's fireplace. Or crash in the kitchen. But the beds will be a lot more comfortable. It will be another tick in the Current Clack timer that I use behind the DM Screen before something awful happens something does indeed clack, so please continue on with the festivities. Unless I'm lying. I do that sometimes.

Per usual, contact me in our Discord for die rolls, questions, or sudden breaking revelations about your surrounding that you previously missed and have to voice so that you cannot be accused of metagaming later. Best of luck!

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Rose River Vineyard

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Coach House

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Weather: Clouds blanket most of the sky now. The temperature begins a steady drop from the mildly uncomfortable to the genuinely cold. Anyone outside might even catch the odd droplet of precipitation, hinting at possible rain before the night is through.

Time: Early evening. The sun has dipped low, but this is difficult to tell from within the stone walls of the ground floor of the Coach House.

Ambience: The initial impersonal chill of the Coach House slowly abated as the fireplace did its work admirably. Lamplight did the rest of the work for illumination in the form of what one may assume to be grapeseed oil, from the light scent of it burning upon thick wicks. The clink of dishes highlights the meal laid upon the table nearest the taproom's fireplace, which carries its own inviting aromas around the room.

*****

Lizbeth took the odd string of words unceremoniously spilling from Kathryn with a grain of salt. Her tone was slightly amused as she looked to her wintertime mentor with an inflected, "Ew." She maintained a smile, however, and swiftly replaced the now empty bottle on the table with a fresh one from behind the bar. "It's okay, Dame Kathryn. I have my eye on the Tinker's boy, anyway. Or, I did, but Grandpa forbade it..." She seemed lost in thought for a moment, "I guess that doesn't matter anymore, does it?" The girl sniffled a little bit but quickly forced herself to recover.

The main door opened suddenly, admitting two of the vineyard's Human laborers in heavy coats. They were wheeling in the barrel of ale, moving wordlessly (though with a grunt or two) past the threshold and into the room proper. Further acts of leverage and strength of arm got the barrel onto the smooth, polished wood of the bar, whereupon they expertly hammered in a spigot and set it upright. _{"...enjoy your suds..."} said one in quiet, sarcastic tones. The second man took off his hat and slapped his companion's shoulder with it, motioning for him to return outside. As if the previous exchange did not occur, he addressed the party assembled. "We got any personal items from your wagon in the common room on the top floor, on account of us not knowing which rooms you wanted. Your um, armory? Is here at the bar, and those Ankheg parts are strung up off the floor with ropes in the outbuilding. Lemme tell you, when old Urmdrus heard you brought in intact Ankheg chitin, he got real serious. I guess that's how their kind shows excited. Expect a visit from that one, for sure." He shifted from one foot to another, "Unless there's anything else you'll need from me, Miss?" This last part was directed at Lizbeth.

"Yes please," she answered politely but firmly. "Do make sure that the drinking and washing water is fresh from the well. Take care to refill, do not top off. And please? Tell your friend to be nicer to these people if he wishes to come back for work next season. They are our guests. Aunt Cecily and I owe them our lives, besides." She fished out a silver coin and pressed it into the man's hand with a whisper of, "Thank you for helping us tonight. I know it's getting cold out there."

Lizbeth made the leap from bubbly teenage girl to Lady of the Manor very quickly, and returned equally as fast. She wandered over to the recovered weapons on the bar, taking stock of them. The daggers, she mostly passed over. She paused at the shortswords, one of which she was still wearing at her hip, and flexed a shortbow to test it. Then her eyes fell upon the spear and the whip. her fingers played across the haft of the first, but quickly moved on to the Constable's whip. She uncoiled it carefully and looked it up and down before carefully replacing it on the bartop. "I want to learn them all." she said aloud. No concern over who they had belonged to nor what they had been used for. By her tone, they were just the tools she needed to learn what she wanted. "And your sword, Miss Victoria! And the big hammer! I'm not so strong, but if I train really hard with you all... Well, we have a winter, if you'll help me." How to fight, how to think on her feet, strategize, put a weapon into something standing before her - these thoughts burned in her eyes just as much as the flicker of firelight. Some unknown quality was motivating her.

She broke out of it quickly, remembering her duties. "Oh, I'm sorry!" she exclaimed. Lizbeth moved to fill water glasses and make sure soup was portioned. She garnished with a touch of fresh tarragon leaves and coarse salt, and poured glasses of wine all around. She giggled at Baronfjord's assessment of the wine on the table and nodded in agreement. It was indeed wine. It was white. And it was sweet. She also took Baronfjord's advice and set a place for herself at the table, complete with full settings and enough food to satisfy her fill. She only took a partial glass of wine, however, opting to mostly sip from a water glass."Aunt Ceecee doesn't want me having but a little, until I'm older," she confessed.

"Miss V is mostly right about the wine." Lizbeth announced, holding up a forkful of roasted pheasant. "It's the same sweet grape as our Honigblume, and it was early season, so it's a lot drier. No blend, though. We were experimenting with aging it in polished stone rather than oak barrels, so it's pretty neutral, and we added chestnut staves halfway through to mellow the flavors. It didn't catch on enough to warrant the expense. We still do some like that for just us." She shrugged, and dug into the food in front of her. With her mouth partly full, she added, "That other taste in the wine? Grandpa said it comes from the land. Like the ground flavors the grapes. He said it doesn't happen anywhere else like that. It's why our wine is special."

The laborer returned again, intoning that the water had been handled and that the containers had been wiped down with a stock wine prior to refilling, just in case. "Thank you!" Lizbeth said cheerily. The man departed, leaving the Coach House truly without presence aside from the party and their young host/guest. It seemed a little quieter within the taproom in the growing evening.

Completely off topic and a little late to the discussion, Lizbeth curiously inquired, "Yeah. What is a camel?"