Sigil

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@rivaan@Shoe Thief@Sigil@Arty Fox

Here we are again, doing what we do in the face of raw mediocrity. This round of posting, if anything thematic can be drawn from it, is one of pointing characters in directions. Hints as to what may come have been dropped and opportunities for character growth are presenting themselves, depending on how our merry band of adventurers (read: gaggle of misfits) choose to aim our intentions. More hints and opportunities will be revealed depending on how these are followed up on.

Per usual, message me in our Discord with questions, die rolls, or if you think I missed something. Huzzah, and good luck. The snowball has been pushed off the top of the mountain and it's just now starting to get a little bigger.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Rose River Vineyard

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Coach House

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Weather: A steady coolness settles over the land, with the fully established morning sun cutting through the hardest of the season's edges. Wind gusts through the open areas around the estate do an amazing job reminding people that sharper weather was possibly headed their way.

Time: Early to mid morning. An excellent time for a leisurely breakfast and the discussion of plans.

Ambience: The breakfast table lay filled with various delights, simple in presentation but with a drawing feature that only well made foodstuffs can provide on a cold morning. The worst of the wind gusts is abated by the presence of the great Estate House, giving the protection of its bulky, exterior walls. Braziers filled with hot coals vented heat, the radius of which overlapped with the one next to it, giving an oasis of relative warmth around the al fresco breakfast table.

The view overlooking the river is noteworthy, if one walks to the edge of the terrace. Sounds of water leisurely passing by are muted but ever-present, competing with the sharper yet distant sounds of people putting lines in the river and pulling the occasional fish back out. Truly, it is a nice day for fishing, is it not? It might even inspire a contented chuckle to that effect.

From this vantage, one may see the stretching fields containing rows upon rows of grape vines upon framework, most starting to show the signs of seasonal dormancy but still mostly green in the distance beyond the river's bend. The hill just beyond the river's cove to the west held the stone lookout where Kathryn stood atop just earlier, the top third only visible past the larger bushes and trees therebetween.

The house itself stood as a monument to the capability of industry and the money acquired by it. Not the dwelling of a ranked noble of some prosperous king's court, nor a palace set to receive siege against armies, but an excellent example of wealthy folk of common birth who had done well enough to pass their prosperity and reputation to the next generations. Good, solid wood and stone fitted together with quality, panes of locally produced glass mortared within stout frames with heavy, safe shutters, and controllable access points, one of which led into a kitchen that one could glimpse small portions of when it opened to admit one or another of the domestic or scullery workers.

*****

The barest mention of an omelette got the apron-clad gentleman cracking eggs into a bowl and assaulting them furiously with a small wire whisk. A brief pause to add a touch of cream and dash of salt marked the only reprieve the albuminous yellow liquid saw before it was re-introduced to a beating so vigorous and frothy as to teach all the other eggs present lessons of humility. "What would Madame prefer in her omelette, if you please?" came his voice, heavily influenced by a local accent. There were options of a decent variety, both animal and vegetable. Maybe even a bit of fungal.

The flatbreads were accepted by the L'Roses with differing amounts of enthusiasm. Cecily gave a pleasant, "Why, thank you," and folded it, setting it upon the side of the plate in front of her. Lizbeth, ever the grasper of life, immediately ripped a bit of it free and popped it into her mouth. Pleased with this, she applied a formidable helping of pepper jam upon if and began to devour in a manner that was probably not as ladylike as her aunt would have preferred. This was made evident by the sudden, sharp clearing of Cecily's throat, and a reduction in the vigor with which the younger L'Rose consumed her bread. When she came to an appropriate moment to do so, Lizbeth gave a hasty, "Thank you!" and continued.

At one point, Lizbeth addressed the mention of the name Annick Floquet, sharing, "She has a daughter who's older than I am. She's nicer than her mother. I think her father died in the war, but... I've never met him." This earned a sharp look from Cecily, prompting an apologetic look from Lizbeth. Apparently, there was a little difficulty with oversharing that she still had to address.

Cecily made an abrupt subject change to answer Victoria's question about local manners. "Oh, we are politely informal here," she began, gesturing at the lack of a dozen different kinds of forks and spoons. "Don't use the tablecloth as a napkin, use serving spoons to serve and supping spoons to sup, and don't put a butter utensil in the honey. That sort of thing. Common manners of the realms north of the mountains. And I don't mean this to insult," she paused to look around the table, "but if any of you are far traveling folk who are unaware, please just observe and act accordingly. I am quick to forgive small matters of table etiquette among friends, especially if they are trying. If you are versed in formalities, then the same rules as Khimn or Argentum gentry would apply, even if I shan't hold you to it." Since the first big war against the Alhazred, the collective groups of desert people to the south, there was a great exchange of ideas and culture, including a formalized agreement of trade language and an diffusion of etiquette, thanks in part to intermarrying families from the classes nobility of several different nations, not to mention the breaking down and restructuring of territories. It wasn't a full homogenization of manners, not by a far stretch, as pockets of older schools of thought and less extroverted sections of cultures kept to their old customs. For this reason, it was safe enough to ask, just in case.

Another mention of manners got Cecily's attention, this from Baronfjord, and to a point that might have gone to the host or service staff were it not for the small speech that she had just given. "Coffee. That is coffee. If you are unfamiliar, please have some for yourself. My father called it 'an acquired taste, like good whisky.' But not for me, thank you." She offered up a cup for the martially inclined Dragonborn to fill, requesting, "Tea, please." She made her movements deliberate and demonstrative, just in case anyone needed a refresher course on the northern standard of etiquette without having to ask. Cecily seemed a lot more in control of herself and her emotions now that she was back home, the present Lady of the Manor, so to speak. More assertive seeming.

Concerning her availability to suitors, as noted by Kathryn, Cecily smiled just a little. "Sweet of you to say. I know I'm not the youngest girl at the festival, but I still turn a few heads, if you'll forgive me. But no, I simply couldn't marry again, knowing I might have to leave this place, and it would be questionable if someone of means desired to stay here when Lizbeth comes of age. I believe I might be happiest as the Vineyard's caretaker, if the recently annointed Madame L'Rose of Rose River allows." She nodded to Lizbeth, who was busy applying butter to a steaming mille feuille.

Lizbeth took a moment to allow her brain to catch up to the conversation, when she suddenly plopped her extremely delicate, thousand-layer pastry onto her bread plate. "Aunt Ceecee, of course you can be the caretaker. You kind of already are, aren't you? And even if you weren't, or wanted to retire, this is your home." It was said in the matter-of-factly tone that only absolutely certain teenagers were capable of achieving.

"So tell me," inquired Cecily to the whole of the table while moving to put a few choice morsels on her plate, "have you any plans for how you will spend your time here at Rose River Vineyard? I might be able to point you in a helpful direction."

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: Estate House (Terrace) Action: N/A Bonus Action: Familiar Reaction: N/A

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"Annick Floquet," stressed Victoria, committing it to memory as she didn't wish to get her writing implements from her knapsack right at that moment. In any case, the pens and inks that were present were of a very special kind, both looted from Constable Cavendish's stock of ritual materials and acquired from Sheriff Arbalest per their arrangement. Victoria was a Bard. If she could remember lyrics or poetry after a single oration, she could remember the name "Annick Floquet of Southmoor." One thing allowed for a moment of consideration, and that was the idea of a trade being involved. It had to be something she might want, obviously. Victoria guessed that the mentor-in-question was most likely not a musician, nor might she value the honor of being graced with private performances from one as talented as herself - things of this nature were often lost on people of more rural upbringing. And if she was being honest, it was a little bit of a lopsided deal, anyway, that persons of money and means entered into for the benefits of prestige amongst their fellows. A woman who was conscripted into service as an army physician decades ago and retired to a secluded spot in the country probably didn't care one wit for prestige.

The thoughts of what she might trade in exchange for mentorship aside from music (which seemed unlikely to be valued) or money (which she wasn't carrying a lot of, anyway). She had magic. Victoria was a creature of mixed Sylvan background and had a talent for plucking arcane notes from the song of creation - a gift which could be bartered anywhere for a not insubstantial sum - but her best spellwork involved things which made the general populous nervous. Perhaps she should lead with her mundane occupation of Funerary Violinist, if pressed on a specialty. Victoria did have one thing about her magical prowess that a Medician might find useful, as she thought about it: Healing Word. Be it minor healing at best, it could stabilize someone inflicted with physical traumas and fix most non-life-threatening hurts altogether. In an emergency, it was more immediately effective than natural medicine. Between access to that and her most useful spell, Prestidigitation, Victoria was confident she had enough to trade for specialized knowledge in Anatomy and Medicine. If she could convince the woman, this could work. And the Bard was very good at convincing people.

But the overall conversation wasn't about her that hour. If Victoria wished to stay in the moment, she would have to amend her thoughts to those around her and become part of the gathering more openly. The words which came from Lizbeth did turn her heart more toward the girl, as she had lost her parents. The fact that she was able to discuss it so openly made Victoria believe that it was a while ago, either long enough back that the worst of the sting had been blunted, else this happened when she was too young to remember it clearly. Still, Victoria did sympathize. She didn't know what she would do if she had lost her own parents during her formative years. A lot of who she was as a person was dependent upon the influence of her family, and if one didn't know it, she had a fairly high opinion of herself. Victoria found that she genuinely liked Lizbeth. The girl wasn't too horribly unlike her, when she was younger. Like a little sister, which she had three of already. Lizbeth would have fit in well with her people, even if she was fully Human.

Cecily's declarations touched a nerve with her, too. Victoria had never married. Never fallen in love, really, even if she had several dalliances of a sort before committing to her role as an Adventuring Bard. She knew several songs about altruistic, romantic love and could use the proper words to elaborate on the subject as if she were a seasoned professional, but did not have the opportunity to feel it for herself. Perhaps this was why she felt a touch of envy for Cecily's experiences, even if it resulted in loss. To be able to put that sort of emotion into her music would be a great gift. A costly gift. One well worth the pain and sadness if it came from a place of love, and love's loss. But this was not her fate and very likely would never be, either. This was not who she was. Tears began to form in her eyes as she listened to the two of them. Not the blackness which mimicked tears indicative that she was channeling magic in the way of the Grey Requiem, in and of itself which varied in expression, but the true, clear melancholy of one empathizing with a friend. Or at least a trusted acquaintance. "I am so sorry that the both of you had to go through that. Especially now that the family patriarch has passed. And particularly after the events of the past week. It must compound old feelings. Please let me know if I can do anything to ease your grief in this time, be it a task to perform or the dignity of not giving it mention." Victoria was around death and the rites thereabout enough to know that different people handled mourning in different ways.

One thing did occur to her, given a chance to process the information presented: There was an awful lot of death in this family. Only one heir remaining to the L'Rose fortune, and she was still considered a child by the laws of this land. Was there more to this?

Having been given the go-ahead to engage in mortal combat with the simple but amazing looking breakfast, Victoria surmised that it would be impolite not to. They were here for breakfast, and she had but a warming cup of apple/grapeleaf tea after she rose this morning. So, doffing her cloak and hat, she set them with the rest of her belongings near to the table and procured for herself a cup of bitter, black coffee. It had been a long time since she had experienced any, being a rarer thing this far north and a genuine preference for tea, usually. Still, an opportunity was an opportunity. Victoria had discovered that she was quite fond of the local pears, too, and so selected one from among the available fruit. Not wasting time on formalities, she slid her personal dagger from its sheath and nonchalantly speared one of the lovely things and raised it, still steaming lightly, from its dish. The pear almost slid right back off of the blade and back to the table, but Victoria quickly maneuvered herself to prevent an unsatisfying plop. She had to set down her cup to do so, but ultimately her efforts bore, well, fruit. The pear was artistically peeled in a sharp, spiral pattern and baked with wine, then set to a torch to caramelize the sugars therein on one side. It was softer than she had anticipated, hence the near-miss. But the flavor was exactly what she thought it might be, and awakened a genuine hunger within her.

By the time Victoria was selecting a place setting for herself, the first of her group was arriving. Kosara had just rounded the side of the Estate House, and with a bundle. "Why, good morning again!" she exclaimed, carefully waving the mostly intact pear impaled upon her long dagger. "Those breads do look outstanding. And it was so thoughtful of you to contribute, I'm sure! Still, I shall heed your advice and keep it reserved for later today, if you do not mind, Kosara." To Victoria's estimation, it would withstand the rigors of the day much better than the thousand-layered butter pastry and hot pepper jam that she was, in that moment, delicately placing onto her plate.

A quick note brushed through her mind, prompting Victoria to turn to their host. "Madame L'Rose, I apologize. I am behaving in a very informal manner. What is the appropriate point of etiquette in this instance? I do wish to enjoy this breathtaking meal without insulting your customs and culture." She took a small sip from her coffee and smiled warmly toward Cecily, hoping that a touch of openness would potentially smooth over any minor faux pas which may or may not have occurred. And it might score some points to appear willing to defer to a lady in her own home before getting too comfortable.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@rivaan@Shoe Thief@Sigil@Arty Fox

Before we get into the pleasantries - Kathryn: The Perception roll in the Discord was not ideal, but it did bear a little fruit. The bits and pieces of smoked Morty that was ingested reminded Kat of something. She couldn't quite put her finger on it at first, but damnit if that meat seemed like it would pair amazingly well with the wine she was guzzling the evening before. Something similar about them, just out of mental reach.

Now, for the rest of us. Your characters may arrive at any time after Cecily answers her first question, about the Medician in town. Past that, feel free to react. Plenty of information to be soaked up there. The last bit, with the stablehands, can only be directly noticed if your characters are coming up from the front of the Estate House. Remember that Cecily bid you all to walk around the place to get to the terrace in the back.

Further, as this takes place over a full season (give or take), there are going to be significant lapses in time between events that need to be accounted for. To this end, be thinking about how you wish for your characters to spend their time. If it can be worked out within the context of the storyline, there are skills to learn, tools and weapons to familiarize yourself with, languages to pick up, etc. Any character who puts consistent in-game time toward something along these lines will acquire it, along with their milestone level at the end of the Act.

Per usual, hti me up in the Discord for questions, concerns, or die rolls. Or if I forgot to address something in the IC.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Rose River Vineyard

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Coach House

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Weather: One experiences a cool morning under clear skies. While the ambient temperature has increased a little bit, the wind still bites with a promise of weather to come. The distinction between the two is becoming more apparent at the morning progresses.

Time: Still early. It is morning, approximately a half hour from the last time we checked in.

Ambience: One's breath can be seen in smallish wisps in the cold morning air. This has lessened little by little as the growing (relative) warmth of the sun, marking it as an event soon to expire. The clouds in the distance seem to have approached a little bit in the last half hour, an expected thing considering the prevailing direction of the wind. The vineyard and moors about it are grand and bright, demonstrating the industry of agriculture for which Avonshire is known.

Movement around the Estate House and immediate rows of vines has become more noticeable, as additional employees of the vineyard have emerged to start their day. The ripples of wind across vegetation serve to better illustrate the ocean-like appearance of rolling hills which appear as silent, standing waves dotted with dwellings, gazebos, and stables making a metaphorical mimicry of ships in the near and far distance. A main footpath paved with grey flagstones and a vital, lifegiving river cut through this near idyllic scene, the latter seeing more use than the former as persons both Human and Halfling gather water, cast their fishing lines in, or walk along its banks - though not in great numbers. Almost as a portion of the day's distant ambience, one can barely make out one of the fishing folk utter, _{"G'mornin'! Nice day for fishin', ain't it? Huah huh!"}

The Taproom remained mostly as it was from prior, except that one could make out an occasional shuffling footstep from the floor above, likely from the man going about his business straightening things up, sweeping floors, and changing out bed linen. He kept as quiet as he might be except for what was necessary to do a proper job tidying up. Smells of rising dough compete with the glory of steam rising from freshly baked bread and savory notes of quickly sauteed bits of meat.

*****

The Estate House blocked the worst of the wind gusts from fluttering cloak, cape, and shawl. Coupled with the braziers (even the one set up as a tableside cooking station), the overall temperature was bearable, even for a late fall/early winter morning. The farther away one might travel from the set tables, the less influence either had on one's comfort; at the distance of the terrace's edge overlooking the river it was effectively nonexistent, the prevailing conditions of the weather reasserting hold fully. Lizbeth didn't seem to mind, her heart full of unvoiced joy at their guests and the novelty of outdoor breakfast with a few of her favorites being delivered. Cecily chose to keep nearer to the warmth, as her own levels of excitement were quite depleted by the events of Harvestide. While she did not wish to move too far away from the braziers, she put a little extra volume to her voice to respond to Victoria's questions. "Yes. Yes there is one in Southmoor, Madame Annick Floquet, but..." There was a sharp quality to her voice, as if sudden reluctance to elaborate had to be pushed through. "A lady who was a midwife, before the last war. She got conscripted as an army medician. She came back a different person, as what happens in war sometimes, I hear. I knew her when I was but a girl. She lives just outside of Southmoor, near to a large copse of trees. Madame Floquet, hmm... She does not generally give of herself unless you have something she wants in trade, save for her oath to act as Apothecary and Healer. I hope this helps."

The next question as posed to Cecily was actually answered by Lizbeth. Her general manner was still upbeat, even if her words issued forth in more of a monotone. "We lost my mommy and daddy when I was younger. It was a wasting disease of some kind. I had it, too, but I lived. Aunt CeeCee came here to live with us and take care of me, after that. But then Uncle Hugo passed..." She looked at Cecily like she had crossed a line of some kind, her lightly shocked voice issuing an apology. "Oh, I'm sorry! I... That wasn't my place to say."

"It's all right. It will always hurt a little, and I have to get used to it." Turning to Victoria, she continued the thought as Lizbeth had left it, "It was a rough few years there, to be certain. Especially for Arnaud, my father-in-law and Lizbeth's grandfather. He kept almost fully to himself, after lost both of his sons. I was going to give him another grandchild, but... but it didn't come to term. Suddenly, too. Arnaud even seemed angry about it. He was so looking forward to the birth. And then he withdrew from everyone again. Leaving the house for days at a time sometimes. Most of the time, we didn't know where he went. Sometimes, we would find him coming back home from the Coach House. Or he would lock himself in his study." Cecily shook her head and changed the course of the subject just a bit, "This makes Lizbeth the last remaining birthright L'Rose! When she comes of age in a little over a year, all of this becomes hers, short of a Will showing up to say otherwise." She forced a smile, "When she takes over, I do hope my dear Lizbeth will want her poor aunt to stick around. It is lovely country, and I doubt I shall find a moneyed suitor now that I am approaching my middle years." There was yet a sense of joviality in her voice, even though it showed some strain.

Lizbeth gave a sympathetic look to her elder and appeared to wish to address the last point made, but was swiftly cut off by the arrival of three scullery workers, two pushing carts adorned with white cloths and silvery cloaches, and one carrying a basket of tools and small bowls with prepared ingredients therein. A bountiful but relatively simply prepared feast was set out upon the table, which was listed out by Cecily as it hit the table. "Coffee, if you've never had it, tea, fresh milk, or wine dilute to drink. Mille feuille pastry with walnuts and honey, croissants and hot pepper jam, sorghum cakes, fruit preserves, a whole basket of boiled eggs (for some reason) with thick, tangy aioli, red wine jelly, fresh country butter, baked apples and blush pears, heavy crust bread, and shredded, fried potatoes. If you wish, the gentleman to the right will be happy to prepare a scratch omelette on the spot for any or all of you. This is a token of my appreciation and an official welcome to the Rose River Vineyard. Please enjoy yourselves."

With nothing left for two of the scullery folk to set out, they gave a curt bow and backed away from the table for three steps before turning their backs and returning to the kitchen. Those particularly astute in their observation may notice that the demeanor of professionalism drops as soon as they get more than a few meters away from the breakfast, showing an eagerness to get back inside paired with the occasional glance to one another, as if counting down the seconds until they may gossip about something in earnest. Likewise for those arriving from the front, stout armed men can be seen headed toward the stables, murmuring among themselves about, "More footprints found. No shoes this time. Who in their right mind goes about barefoot this time of the year?" They clam up once the realize new people are nearby, offering neighborly smiles and many a tip of the hat.

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: Vineyard Grounds -> Estate House (Terrace) Action: N/A Bonus Action: Familiar Reaction: N/A

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The bracing air of the morning was felt with appreciable notice by Victoria as she kept her cloak about her. It took a few moments for her to acclimate to the colder air of the moors, even in part, as compared to the warm and comfortable interior of the Coach House. By the time they all got down to the main pathway - Cecily, Lizbeth, and herself - she felt more at ease. Enough, anyway, to allow her cloak to drape about herself without the desire to hold it closed. When Cecily began to speak about the lands around them, Victoria actually began to cheerfully ignore all but the gusts of wind, insisting upon reminding her that the start of winter was upon them.

The idea that Cecily didn't always live in the big house hadn't really occurred Victoria. It made sense, though. This was a rambling estate with lots of room to spread out, and she was more accustomed to the closer living of more populous cities. It did make her wonder how many people usually lived in the grand residence at by the river, and whatever else they might do with the space inside. "This is quite a lovely piece of land you have here. Like a shard of the Twin Paradises. I should love to experience as much of it as I can while I am welcomed here."

The gazebo nearest to the house piqued Victoria's interest. It was large, almost large enough to stage a one-act play in. Certainly a superior spot to play music or practice dancing. A similarly worthwhile spot was nearby to the gazebo as well, paved and mostly cordoned off by stone markers, but without a pavilion to keep inclement weather off of one's brow. This was an absolutely beautiful, if a bit rustic, place to center herself and assimilate the new abilities into her proper repertoire. In fact, this vineyard getaway seemed like the perfect place to delve into more new things that she might find complementary to her already varied skill set. And of course, the wine. It was a factor that couldn't be wholly ignored.

Along their way back to the terrace, Victoria raised a question that might have appeared a little out of place. "Madame L'Rose, if I may hazard an inquiry? Is there a practitioner of medicine operating nearby? To clarify, one who uses physical medicine as opposed to magic - a healer, or anatomist. A doctor of medicine, perhaps, if I might count myself as very lucky?" She stopped short before saying something to the effect of "in this rural locale." While accurate, it might not have been the most polite thing ever to say. "I've no need of one for myself, but I do like to be useful and learn new things." She quickly added, "While I've the time to, of course."

The continued walk to the breakfast area, so thoughtfully set up but not quite ready to receive guests, found Victoria keeping quiet. The view was amazing, as was the mosaic stonework of the area back here. She most assuredly joined Lizbeth at the side of the terrace overlooking the river, noting the drop down to the water. She noted the beach landing; another good spot to ply her talents and likely had some good acoustics to work with. "It is breathtaking, Lizbeth. I am quite jealous." This as only partly a polite statement. While not precisely her cup of tea, it was something that Victoria could see herself becoming accustomed to. This family was as wealthy as her own, obviously. Conceivably even moreso.

During her look at the far countryside from this scenic place, Victoria focused her senses to her raven, circling above. It was a different vantage from their present location, giving yet another brilliant perspective on the lands around them. During this temporary peek through the eyes of her Familiar, she caught sight of a familiar silhouette upon the nearby, simple lookout tower, prompting the Bard to break contact and call up to Kathryn, out for her constitutional. "Hey there!" She didn't quite go as loud as she possibly could, but did utilize her vocal training to project like a seasoned professional. A grand, welcoming wave followed.

Turning her attention back to Cecily, Victoria spoke, "If I speak out of turn, Madame, I apologize. That said, may I tentatively inquire - You mentioned that you had lost family, more than your husband and his father. Is it just you and Lizbeth in this place now? Or might we be graced with the meeting of more of your people before the winter is out?" Her voice was pleasant. Sweet. Honeyed, even. But her eyes were inquisitive and mind working with a sudden burst of inquisitive suspicion.

Spiraling down from above, the great, black corvid landed net to the vanity pool, absently pecking at something crawling nearby. Be it a spiritform made flesh, it was still a raven.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@rivaan@Shoe Thief@Sigil@Arty Fox

Being that we discussed this at some detail in our Discord, I'll keep it short and sweet. Kosara and Baronfjord have full run of the kitchen, do as you will. If you mess something up, there is a housekeeper who is already a little nervous and willing to help in any way he can. To a point. Kathryn has the best view ever and can see damn near to the town. In fact, this spot looks like an excellent place to have some epic, final duel. Not that it would ever happen, of course. Victoria is being personable and schmoozing the hosts, in a good position to ask questions and deal with her own pursuits.

And for the attentive reader - yes. That is an omelette station.

Per our usual, if I missed anything or if you have questions, need rolls, etc., let me know in the Discord and I'll give that DMish assist. At the end of your posts this cycle, decide if your characters will be attending the breakfast, because that's when it's starting. If you won't be there, let me know so that I can account for that with the update and detail your actions otherwise.

Best of luck; the fuckery is officially afoot.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Rose River Vineyard

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Coach House

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Weather: Still cold. With the raising of the sun, things have ticked up a few degrees from nighttime, but overall still a brisk morning. A touch of wind gusts every so often, letting you know that chilly air is still inbound.

Time: Still morning, naught but a few scant minutes from when we checked in last.

Ambience: Mostly clear skies greet you this morning, except for a puffy, light grey patch still in the distance. Judging from the wind direction, that patch promises to arrive with greater abundance eventually. For now, you have the day; and what a crisp, enchanting day it is. The sun now giving glorious illumination to all but the lowest hollows of the Rose River Vineyard. From the high position of the Coach House exterior, one has an excellent, nigh panoramic view of the immediate vineyard.

The windows of the Estate House stood uncovered by shutter and curtain, both, simultaneously allowing the morning sun's rays to brighten the rooms within and reflecting enough radiance to prevent one at a distance from peering within. Around the estate House and the main buildings thereabouts, the rise of the land obscured a good portion of the river as it traveled southward. Nevertheless, farther down one could pick out faraway figures dropping fishing lines into its steady waters. Locals, most likely, or employees of the vineyard with the morning off. Those beginning their day's labors were clearly visible walking along the rows nearest to the buildings, looking over the clean, light green fruits which bobbed lightly in the breeze, many of which had begun to droop and turn the slightest colors of tan. Beneath their wide brimmed hats, people made their notations with satisfactory expressions and moved along their rows.

The Taproom saw its doors open and close a couple more times in the interim, leaving the differing conditions of light and temperature to war with one another. Almost instantly, the hearthy lights of the fires take over from the pale morning light outside, and in short order the cold is banished, leaving those who wish to stay inside for a time longer in relative comfort.

*****

The domestic worker made good on his promise to exit the premises with an assertive gait, trying hard not to look like he was nervously fleeing the situation he was in, though he almost assuredly was. He caught up to his wife who, luckily, never made it farther than the bottom of the hill, almost. It was not certain what was discussed in this moment, but in three minutes or so the near to paranoid lady was sent on her way back home while her husband returned to the Coach House to cover her part of the tasks. To his credit, he was holding himself together fairly well, considering that he was a touch nervous being around real life adventurers who had magics beyond his reckoning a their disposal, else were larger and stronger than himself by orders of magnitude. "If it's all the same to you, I'll keep myself away from your personal effects and just change the bedding out upstairs, empty some things, you know... And just get to the rest when you make your ways about today, again, if you please, if this suits your plans." He suspiciously eyed the entire, preserved pig wrapped in burlap, somehow standing up by itself near the wall. Then he got to his business.

Those inside the Taproom interested in the contents of the kitchen would find a fully stocked pantry, larder, and dry storage. The cellar attached held all manner of goodies, absolutely complete with any kitchen staple that the region had to offer. Even a few preserved items that weren't native to Avonshire made it into storage. Those interested in something as simple as flatbread or the makings of a good sandwich will find the contents significantly more than acceptable. The stove is even still hot, the pans seasoned, and lighting just perfect to throw something together in short order. In the event of a messy cook, the domestic worker was still on premises and had to yet do an accounting of the supplies in these rooms. In short, one with the ability to cook may do so at their leisure.

A practiced gait saw Cecily stepping down the trail which led in the general direction of the Estate House. She occasionally glanced back to make sure she wasn't going too fast for those following her to keep up, knowing that her footfalls carried the steps of experience of one who had been here for some years, and others did not have such experience. Lizbeth kept up readily enough, keeping to her aunt's heels like a squire to a vineyard knight. When they reached the paved path which split the front end of the Vineyard with access, she began to give a very basic tour of things they were about to walk past in the distance. "These rows have stopped producing grapes. The rest have been harvested and processing now, but these..." She trailed for a moment, "The longer they stay on the vine, the more sweetness develops. When the first true frost of the season hits, they will be harvested still frozen if possible and immediately crushed into syrup. This makes a very sweet, strong wine, and it why it's called 'icewine' by most folk. That building there? That's guest or servant accommodations. It used to be a family cottage. Point of fact, I used to live there myself, until... Well, the Family L'Rose has suffered many losses in recent years. My own husband included."

She dotted her eyes with her shawl, cleared her throat, and moved along with conversation. "Up here at this roundabout we have stabling for personal and riding horses. The draft horses are kept elsewhere on the property, nearer to where the work is done, but they have a shared grazing area with lots of room to run. And here is the Estate House. You'll notice two gazebos out front; one of them is for gatherings and leisure, feel free to use it as you see fit. The farther one out is actually underground access. We produce and store most of our wine right here, underneath our home. There are some other cellars elsewhere on the vineyard, but this is the main one. There's enough wine down there to stain the river for days. Oh, let us take the long way around. Breakfast will be set up on the terrace, overlooking the water. Right this way, please."

Evenly lain stone surrounded the Estate House, turning into the occasional short few steps up or down to suit the lay of the land, while one great set of stairs made of the same stone as the walkways led up to the main doors of the structure. But Cecily did not use these, preferring to keep to the perimeter until they were all led to the back of the great house. The ground around them changed into a series of three-color mosaics, all as flat and even as the stone walkways, surrounding a vanity pool which stretched very nearly to the stone fencing along the edge of the terrace to the back of the house itself. A large, round table sat on the other side of this pool, presently tended to by two of the domestic staff, one Human and one Halfling, putting out cloths and placesettings for the upcoming meal. Great brass braziers, four of them, were placed strategically to allow easy access to the table while giving needed warmth from the hot coals inside. Next to one of the braziers was a small table holding a series of dishes, a basket of eggs, and a few sundry ingredients. This was arranged as if it was to be used for tableside cooking specifically. "Make yourself at home, please. I doubt that the scullery staff needs additional help, but one can always ask; they are at your disposal should you wish something, nevertheless."

Lizbeth dashed over to the side of the terrace, lifting herself up on the low fencing along the edge and looked out over the river. The terrace itself oversaw a respectable drop to the water below, and one could see a landing beach below. "The view is amazing here! Come take a look!" she insisted.

Elsewhere, was unloading the not remotely full buckets of other people's urine into a basin near some leatherworking equipment. He did not seem especially happy to be doing so, but a deal was a deal, and he was coming out of this deal reasonably well. Even after the Half-Elf turned on her sylvan wiles and renegotiated. He picked up one especially useful-looking piece of Ankheg carapace, held it to his own chest for perspective, and made it ready to be worked upon. Very candidly, he made sure to add his own micturitions to the basin. If the "adventurers" couldn't pick up the slack, the hard-drinking Duergar would have to bring them up to the fill line himself. A craftsdwarf's job was never done, apparently.

The path up to the lookout point, as ran by Kathryn, took her on a slightly different route than the troupe moving toward the Estate House, proper. A more direct path saw more trees and less even ground, affording a less than admirable view of the surrounding lands. That is, until she actually got there. The even stone steps led to a large, flat area with wooded railing to help prevent accidental falls. But once up there, a wondrous sight unfolded before Kathryn. This was the highest point for a long way around. The river stretched for miles in either direction before being fully swallowed up by the rolling seas of grass, dotted with occasional copses of trees. One can even see evidence of Southmoor in the distance, easily reachable by the road (which is good, considering that the population there work for the vineyard seasonally, as Cecily explained the previous day). Several outbuildings were visible from here that simply weren't from the Coach House due to the constraints of vision offered by the hilly countryside, including several worksheds dotting the fields of neat, slightly curved rows of grapevines that seemed to go on for an impressive distance. In addition, due to Kathryn's history with forge work, she could recognize a building not far at all from the Coach House that had all the earmarks of a blacksmith's shop and personal dwelling. The scope of how much this piece of land produced was made very apparent by the height and view. While the great expanse of vines and vine accessories stretched indeterminably in every direction, it did seem to stop short (comparatively) a ways to the south, as a dotted line of scrub and uncultivated trees marked a boundary to a place of lower elevation that, in the nature of moors, vaguely resembled a wetland.

Also from this vantage, Kathryn cold see a clearly marked path that led directly to the stone terrace at the back of the Estate House, where Lizbeth, Cecily, and Victoria were ambling about between the river and the vanity pool in the shade provided by the large house itself.

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 -> Vineyard Grounds Action: Casting Prestidigitation Bonus Action: Morty, Familiar Reaction: N/A

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"Slapped?" mused Victoria, one finger to her chin as if in contemplation. "Ah. Apologies, Kathryn. That might be the lingering effects of the quick tactile test I administered while you were dead," remarked Victoria cheerfully. She practically beamed, satisfied with both herself and the succinct way in which the explained the abrupt and not inaccurate accusation of slapping the much stronger woman. This, and maintaining an open dialogue with positive body language would hopefully assist in relaxing problems that may arise from the tall Knight if she took offense at the (almost) completely innocent tap she has received. Maybe it was time to go.

And being as it was time to go, Victoria would have to let Baronfjord down a little bit, if he had hoped to see a magical duel between Warlock and Bard. "Paradises above, Baronfjord," remarked the lady, "We shall have to postpone the 'marvelous spectacle' at the very least. I've no wish to throw about damaging magic carelessly in this fine vineyard unless I have no other option, and a struggle might lead to injury which will, at the very least, make breakfast less enjoyable. Another time, perhaps."

She did have one point to bring up with Kosara, however, but it did not involve incantations nor the gathering of necrotic energy. "Absolutely, Oh Dancer of the Southern Sands. I would be honored for my name to find itself in the conversations of Celestials. But for now, if you will please excuse me, I am going to visit the terrace of what I'm positive is a lovely and welcoming Estate House."

Victoria gave a bow which was just a tad too extravagant for the occasion, bending at the waist and touching a hand to her forehead, then bringing it out wide in a sweeping motion. When Victoria rose, she finally retrieved her personal effects and arranged them about her person, buckling on her swordbelt and shouldering her violin. Her fine, charcoal cloak made its way into her shoulders with a flourish, followed swiftly by her especially Bardy hat. The knapsack which contained her ritual book hung loosely at her back opposite of her violin. She looked equally as ready to travel a great distance as she did to simply greet the day officially. When she noticed this about herself, there was a sudden bit of introspection. This was indeed how she would ready herself to leave for parts unknown, with the exception that there would be a Morty at her heel, pulling her loaded errand cart behind. Maybe she just wasn't fully comfortable here yet. The fact that they engaged in mortal combat just yesterday might have been a factor. Or maybe it was just her nature to be prepared for a hasty exit. Victoria would have to see if this habit continued, longer into their stay.

To this note, the Bard of Requiems gave a quick mental command to her porcine thrall, bidding it to act in a manner inoffensive to those around it and generally stay put. She did not need someone hurling a pot at the undead beast, only to have it retaliate. A new smoked, cured boar carcass was not worth someone getting hurt, nor losing their place for the season. Dodge only, return to its master if attacked. If it couldn't carry the last one out, it would just stay put.

Mental commands didn't stop there, as Victoria was slowly building herself a bit of a macabre menagerie. She stepped outside, following Lizbeth and Cecily, and extended an arm. Her raven, perched on the railing above the door, took to wing and lighted upon her forearm, at least until she cleared the archway leading out. Even then, it stuck around until after they caught sight of the group of people near the bottom of the hill - the horror stricken domestic lady and field hands - and rose to circle in the air above them with a series of croaking caws. Victoria drew upon the least of her magics to darken her eyes to pitch and cause the visual effects of her magic, the likeness of black tears, to manifest. Yes, it was childish. Maybe even a little foolish. But she waited until the woman noticed her presence, caught her gaze with instant, and gave her a wink with a full, mischievous grin. She even tilted her head to the side, just a little bit. This situation of this lady reminded her of the men in front of Neil & Bob's, or any amount of people who thought they could treat her in amazingly prejudicial ways because of her preferred magic, her mixed heritage, the stereotypes commonly associated with Bards, or just the fact that she was objectively a conventionally attractive woman by any standards of either Humans or Elves. Giving a little scare felt like a tiny piece of vindication. And yes, it was foolish.

"So, Madame Cecily?" inquired Victoria, dropping any physical manifestation of her spellcraft before anyone else noticed, "What is on the menu for breakfast? I am decidedly curious." Her smile had become warm and innocent, in contrast to the immediately previous incarnation of the expression.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

Double post. That was weird. Carry on!