Sigil

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, Hidden Distillery Action: Cast a Spell (Speak With Dead), Skill Check (Perception) Bonus Action: Familiar Stuff, Morty Reaction: N/A

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The brandy was phenomenal. No doubt about it, it was some of the smoothest, most interesting hard liquor that she had experienced. Her ability to pick out the more interesting notes and flavors of the potent potable did very little to bring greater understanding, unfortunately, and it was precisely this feeling that there was something just beyond her understanding that was rather bothersome. All she could do was appreciate the brandy for its apparent, mundane qualities as observed by someone with exposure to life's extravagances. As a result, the additional sampling was practically mandatory. The sudden discharge of electricity from Baronfjord snapped her concentration away momentarily, but she quickly came back to a thought: "It would be polite, even prudent, to bring one of two of these barrels back to the L'Roses. There must be a fortune in distilled spirits here that they hadn't a clue even existed."

It occurred to Victoria that they were probably far away from the appropriate equipment to comfortably move something like a full barrel (or two) of liquor to the estate house, so gingerly reached out her senses to her Raven outside. She still marveled at the idea of doing this, as it was something she had read was almost purely the wheelhouse of Wizards to do this. In truth, her Familiar could only come by means of Ritual Magic, a longer and more elaborate affair than simply casting the spell as normal. The results were the same, however, and that was all she cared about. She was a Bard with a Familiar, and that was just fine by her. Satisfied with her status, Victoria placed her senses within her bird's and gave the immediate area a look. She didn't recall a wagon about, but it couldn't hurt to check.

Outside, Victoria's cloak lay over a shovel handle which stood perpendicular to the ground as the blade was unceremoniously driven into it. This seemed as appropriate a perch as any, and it was from this point that it launched itself upward for a better view. There was no one in this part of the Vineyard as far as she could tell, and certainly no extra wagons around. Maybe something near the shed, or further out in the next field. Disappointing, but an issue to resolve a little later.

Inside, the not-quite-living Morty stuck close to its Mistress who had placed her senses elsewhere. This was by mental command as opposed to its own sense of propriety, as it was sadly lacking in appreciable empathy or free will. Victoria's mental commands bound the flesh and bone animation. It protected her purely at her discretion, an automaton of smoked, tasty, once living matter. Compared to some of her compatriots, Victoria was a bit toward the fragile. Every little bit of additional support helped.

Then a thought occurred to Victoria as she stood there, weighing her options. She was versed in Necromancy, after all. A penchant for the darker arts, one might venture to say. And she did muse just a handful of days earlier, "I can speak with the dead." Her abilities in her preferred school of magic had developed. This was within her repertoire. And one might have noticed the availability of two deceased persons within spitting distance. Persons who, she just came to realize, needed a proper interment. Finally speaking aloud, Victoria suggested, "I might ask a question or two of the distillery's residents, if you will excuse me." She randomly selected the one toward the very back and moved within ten feet of the corpse.

Victoria drew her bone flute from the cylindrical bag on her belt and held it in a manner not unlike a wand. She gestured, intoning words of power at a singing whisper, letting necrotic energy build and drip from her words. Her face immediately formed the marks of black tears moving from shadowed eyes, a thing common to her when she cast from her College's pool of arcane knowledge, and one would witness wisps of shadow smoulder from her form. It was a coldly beautiful form of spellwork, showing a clear difference in method of casting from a pure Wizard's art. Victoria was a Bard of the Grey Requiem, and this was her performance.

Unfortunately, despite having done everything right, the corpse did not stir. It did not ready itself to speak. It lay dormant upon the dusty, brick floor. Victoria seemed puzzled. "That... should have worked. I felt the power build and release; more unblemished Necromancy than I have channeled before." Puzzled, indeed. "That should have worked," she insisted. Something was wrong.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@Pirouette

At work presently, so apologies if I come across as terse. Yes, there is an opening for one more person. Create a CS using the rules provided and I will review. There is a further consideration, that being that we are now in an established setting with an intentionally designed, greatly reduced NPC count. Your character's presence will have to fit narratively, which may be a hill to climb. And past this I will review your posting history to get a gist of your play style.

But yeah, wouldn't mind seeing another character involved if we can make it fit.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Rose River Vineyard

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Old Distillery

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Weather: The weather outside remains a beacon of relatively calm early winter out in wine country. While no new snow falls, the thickening clouds despite the continuing day hints at a possibility in the near future.

Time: Still late morning. The sun remains behind its veil of overcast grey-white.

Ambience: The hidden distillery contains only as much light as you bring into it. Not even so much as a torch sconce or lamp is available to illuminate this thirty-five by twenty-five foot room. Feet tap upon a relatively even brick floor, and the same sort of rocks which made up the wall the party tore down to enter here seem to form the walls. Wooden supports maintain the tunnel, walls, and ceiling, though the ceiling was mostly a network of thick, gnarled sycamore roots. A deceptively thin layer of dust and/or covers things in here, though not enough to prevent a casual inspection of things. There are crates, several stacked barrels, and two large distillery tanks present.

The corpses don't have a lot to say at present, being that they are, indeed, corpsing very nicely as far as one can tell.

From the outside, one might barely hear a low whoosh of wind blowing past the unearthed tunnel's entrance.

*****

To recap:

Investigating the bodies has yielded marginal results. One trying to find anything of importance upon them or anything past that which is obvious was not the epic event of deductive logic one might have hoped. The good news is, they ARE clothed, so their shriveled bits and pieces keeps to the general concerns of social modesty for the area. For whatever good this does... you've at least got that proverbial feather in your cap.

The effects of the magic surge remain; Kathryn is slightly taller, Victoria is marginally taller, Baronfjord is ...blue (imagine that), and Kosara retains the flowers in her hair as more than a fashion choice. A bit of time has not changed the changes.

The barrels in this place, for those who took some time to check them, are mostly all full, having been produced and stored in this room for at least as long as the place has been walled off. Examination and sampling of the liquid therein had revealed an amazingly balanced and smooth hard alcohol. If it ever was wine, it stopped being that following the distillation process. It is, at this point, quite flammable in addition to its other properties and strangely familiar note of flavor.

The previously mentioned crates, following the Kathryn's search for tools to tap, revealed a number of hand tools of the trade of distilling, barrel sealing, and liquid retrieval. Due to the wonder of their being packed in a manner consistent with their continued use over time, they have not received the ravages of dust and only a little of the ravages of time.

Things are going rather smoothly, all told. Nothing new with the setting. No sudden drops or raises in temperature. No giant insects burrowing up from the loose earth, nor attacks from small, green humanoids. In fact, it's only Baronfjørd "Blackberry" Chedgusah who even thought that something might be slightly out of order within this place, being as he thought he, at the extremes of maybes, swore that the dead guy in the back was facing away from everyone when they came in. And now, it was facing toward.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@rivaan@Shoe Thief@Sigil@Arty Fox

All right, so the Illithids are super pissed and hold you all personally responsible for the injury to their cabal of Tiefling thralls. The Elder Brain's psionic might begins to press harder upon you all, stressing the resistance your helms give you almost to the limits of their protection. Those levels of exhaustion you acquired aren't helping, either. If you don't...

Wait, wait. That's my other group. You guys are the ones in the hidden distillery at the start of the horror movie. Gotcha. OKAY! This update doesn't have a lot of things to update, so it's relatively tame with juuust one or two things to mention that changed. Best of luck. Per usual, DM me in our Discord for rolls and such, and as it IS a new cycle, you may request additional rolls for the occasion. This does not mean that you may attempt the same failed roll again - this doesn't happen unless there is a profound change to the situation, which has not happened yet.

Otherwise, roll those math rocks and hope for the best.

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, Hidden Distillery Action: Cast a Spell (Prestidigitation), Skill Check (Arcana) Bonus Action: Familiar Stuff, Morty Reaction: N/A

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Getting dirty was not in Victoria's "to do" list for the day, though it was fair to say that it was a unfortunate side effect of things which were. To that end, the necromantic Bard availed herself of a spell often used, notably the most often used, of her repertoire. A simple manipulation of the threads of magic, gently pulling the bow of her mind across taut strings to play a single, clear note - which bent reality just a fraction away from its mundane standard in a way which pleased Victoria. In short, she cast a quick Prestidigitation to clean herself up. Now quite tidy and smelling faintly of lilacs, the Bard strode boldly into the aperture and down to the darkness below with her adventuring party, Morty taking to her heel. Her raven Familiar (for which she did not have a dedicated name yet) remained above, ready to alert in case of an unexpected approach.

The corridor was not long. Easily traversed and at a downward angle, making gravity do most of the work for them as they delved the few paces to get to the end, and to the room which lay beyond. Unfortunately, the sudden release of something she could only assume was magic had other plans. Not a plan to the detriment of her own, but plans nonetheless. In her case, everything suddenly seemed to reorient in a way that seemed familiar. Comfortable, even. A sudden shocked look rolled over her face and she said, "Did that just..?" followed by a confused expression. "Curious." Victoria breathed. She looked over herself, examining her limbs and patting along her torso, getting a feel for dimensions which should have been familiar. One might even have seen a touch of disappointment. Then she began to notice the others. Kathryn didn't seem affected by whatever this was, or so mildly as to escape her immediate discernment. Baronfjord looked like he just got buffed and polished with his new vibrant tone, and Kosara? "I think you've got something in your hair, Kosara," mentioned Victoria offhand, as if a bit of springtime fluff had found its way into her locks.

She continued, in response to the Tiefling, "Yes, I am. I rather missed..." She faded off thoughtfully and finally said, "...nevermind." For reasons of her own, Victoria chose to concentrate on the effect of the magic which touched them instead of the room they had all just entered. It only occurred to her in hindsight that Morty seemed to be unaffected. While the others took to their surroundings in the long forgotten distillery, Victoria attempted to translate their present situation in regard to the magic at work, as this clearly had to be a something arcane. The party lacked a Wizard, and so befitting her words in The Infamous Pear (and after the Goblin fight, for that matter), it was her place to be what they needed. Lucky for Victoria, she had formal training in Arcana. So she made her observations and came to her tentative conclusions.

When she finally spoke, it was with some level of understanding, be it incomplete. "I have to assume that this is Wild Magic, even if it dioesn't make a lot of sense. I have so many questions. But this feels isolated. And over with. Like... Hmm." Victoria tried to choose her words carefully. "Like dragging your feet over a lush carpet and reaching for a metal doorhandle. It stings you, but then is gone away. I believe this surge of Wild Magic is like that. An incidental buildup that has burned out now that someone touched it. I cannot say what caused the buildup; it is quite beyond me. The same magic that removes minor curses should handle it, if we choose."

While the others saw to the corpses in the room, Victoria took some interest in Kathryn's desire to tap one of the barrels and sample its contents. She was just about to vocalize a warning when the tall Knight took a sip for herself. To this, the Bard waited for a moment to see if anything odd happened to Kathryn. Satisfied that she did not perish right away, Victoria moved to join her. A small sip for herself turned the fair Half-Elf's face to a shocked scrunch, which slowly morphed into an impressed beaming. "This is delightful, past the initial shock. I was never a big fan of brandy, but this? Amazing." The initial worry of poison or some other trap to the liquor faded somewhat. After all, it has been sealed underground in a non-dungeon setting (debatable) for an undisclosed but sizeable amount of time. What could happen? "Did you find out anything from the corpses?" This did not refer to Morty, of course. Morty held no secrets from Victoria.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@rivaan@Shoe Thief@Sigil@Arty Fox

Let's the obvious out of the way. You all got hit by a Wild Magic surge. No, there isn't a save to make for this. You got what you got, and it may or may not be a little clue-ish. Or symptomatic of something. Or... Well, I'll let you all try to figure that out. To make things official:

Kathryn - Grew one inch. Seriously, that's it.
Victoria - Grew three inches. Congratulations, she's even more svelte now, and STILL the shortest member of the party.
Baronfjord - In a stunning example of "who the fuck cares?", our Blue Dragonborn JUST TURNED BLUE. Not kidding. Maybe it's a shade more vibrant, or however you want to flavor this, but there you are. You're blue. I hope you can live with yourself.
Kosara - What was supposed to be a beard full of feathers, I used DM fiat to change it to flowers growing from your already present head of hair. They do not replace Kosara's hair, just grow among it. Be careful brushing.

That done, you all have stumbled into a distillery of some kind with barrels stored here. There are also two dead people that you can see at basic inspection. Sooo... Please be in contact with me over our Discord for questions, die rolls, or if you think I missed something. Best of luck with the investigation! <insert evil laugh here>

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Rose River Vineyard

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Old Distillery

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Weather: The cold wind gusts a little harder this morning, giving the occasional whistle over the landscape-encompassing sheets of white snowfall. No new precipitation as of yet, but the sky does indicate a real possibility of more to come. It is cold, but not bitterly so at the moment.

Time: It is now late morning. The sun, or what can be seen of it from behind the blanket of cloud cover, lays high in the sky.

Ambience: The immediate landscape around the partially deconstructed wall in the southern field appears cold and empty. Gifts of the high winter sun are more than ample to see by but provides little in the way of warmth past the barest amounts necessary to make the outermost bits of snow glisten and form frigid drops which threaten to freeze when the sun rests.

The landscape looks similar to those approaching from the Coach House - bobbing white hills, ornamented by inactive grape vines upon their frames, but this one also features a mostly flat stretch of pathway leading off of the grounds and onto the main road beyond the Vineyard. The remaining field nearest to the Estate House is unique amongst the rest of the nearby hills, being the only one with workers tending to vines which still bore fruit.

Getting to the "dig site" is a relatively simple affair for even the most marginally observant of people; whereas many footprints can be seen in high traffic areas of the Vineyard, only two pair can be seen moving to the south. Following those for a relatively short length of time will reveal a sycamore tree atop a hill near the river, at the base of which one might find two motivated women pulling rocks away from a tentative opening.

*****

Behind the dirt there were stacked rocks. The utilization of shovel and mattock were enough to break through these two barriers readily enough. It might even be stated that the barriers wanted to be cleared, thanks to the ease with which they could be brought down initially by two women with no particular claim to great feats of strength nor endurance.

But behind this lay something more interesting than an earth and stone wall. Not in the way of a grander bulwark which required breaching, but the more natural formation of roots, burrowing down through the soil, finding the path of least resistance to push ongoing growth in the pursuit of water and fertile soil. These proved to be more meddlesome to get past than anything else, and it was quickly deduced that the roots slid between two barriers: The piled rocks and what was likely once a stout, hardwood door.

The door might have once swung outward. It might have been on decent hinges. It might even have had the secrets of the divine carved upon it in perfect Orcish script, but one would never know it now. The brittle, once tough material had succumbed to the ravages of having being buried for an as yet undetermined amount of time. Years, probably. Or more. What could be sussed from the remains of the door was that it was once stout, fit within a stonework frame very neatly, and was heavily barred - from the outside. Removing it was easy enough.

The hole left in its place was approximately seven feet tall and six wide, possibly a little wider if one really took some time to clear things out, but immaterial to the necessity of exploration. Within lay a short tunnel, maybe twenty feet, with a more or less intact door at the end of it. The tunnel itself is earthen with stone supports, the integrity of which seems to be decent, if not optimal. Roots from the great tree above can be seen snaking in and out of the ceiling and walls here, possibly providing a greater level of stability than what would be present otherwise. A scent fills the air within this place as well; old organic decay mixed with something as sour as it was sweet. It gets stronger as one moves closer to the door.

The door itself is slightly ajar. This is only obvious as one comes upon it, but once within a few feet of it a tiny crack of brick flooring is visible on the other side of the doorway. Pushing the door open is an amazingly easy task to perform for whomever is in the lead. But all actions come with consequences, no matter how mundane.

Whether this consequence came about because of a hand upon the door, the presence of people within the dirt corridor, or some other thing which provoked the will of randomness incarnate, a shimmer expressed among the group. It was subtle, like a strange trick of the light that could be dismissed just as easily as an odd ray of moonlight filtering through trees. But in that moment, several things happened. Like the shimmer itself, some of these things were subtle. Not all, but some.

Kathryn suddenly felt her helmet scrape the top of the corridor. She hadn't moved a step since the easily dismissed shimmer, but it was a definite tactile feeling of her head making contact with the low ceiling above. Victoria noticed that her perspective had changed slightly. Nothing incredibly different, but just enough to be noticeable. That, and the cut of her light coat felt a hair different. Like a dimension about her had changed in a slight way. Baronfjord didn't seem to gather any difference about himself, though he might have immediately picked up what had happened to the others - subsequent examination of himself revealed that his scales seemed a bit pluckier of hue, like he had his scales freshly shined. Kosara had the most dramatic alteration - flowers now grew among her hair, as if they had always belonged there. Healthy, average representation of seasonal flowers of the area in nearly full bloom, making her hair a braided bouquet of color.

The party took what actions they required to come to grips with these alterations, but the room beyond still waited. The long and short of the place can be described as such: This was a thirty-five by twenty-five foot room with a lain brick floor. Rock walls with wooden supports held things together evenly enough, leading up to vaulted ceilings which, by look at the size of the roots which made up most of the ceiling, was directly underneath the great sycamore. The tree gave the room greater stability and likely was the reason that it was in as good condition as it was. There were several barrels in great condition and two large distilling tanks as soon as one entered, to the right. A few stacked crates were nearby, some with simple tools upon them, unused for long period of time. A thin layer of sediment and/or dust covered things here.

If one was concerned about feeling lonely, there's good news! Two corpses called this place home. Or they might, if not for the fact that they were quite dead. And they looked like they had been quite dead for a long time. Regardless, very dead Human remains tended to alter the nature of the discussion after the fact.

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, southern field Action: Diggy Diggy Hole, Diggy Diggy Hole Bonus Action: Familiar Stuff, Morty Reaction: N/A

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Kosara seemed excited to get underway. It was a small mystery, after all. Despite the past few days she had spent under the tutelage of an authoritarian healer (not to mention the independent study and transcription of numerous written works Annick had insisted upon because "writing dedicates to memory") had worn her out, mind and body both, Victoria found that this curious point had quite energized her. She was going to spend the day in leisure, but this was just too interesting to pass up.

This was a rather adventurous occasion, and as such Victoria made sure to outfit herself for an adventure. It hardly mattered to her that this particular one was likely the dramatic uncovering of dirt from rock to find more dirt. And probably more rock. But the possibility of a payoff that something interesting was behind that rock demanded to be met with one's best. Perhaps she went a little too far touching up her cosmetics, minimalist though they were, but it was as much a ritual to center herself as mild vanity. Victoria was fine with both.

A tendril of necrotic energy, delivered unnoticeably through a mental connection, spurred the animated porcine beast of burden, Morty, to action. The burlap-wrapped creature moved with its choppy gait to Victoria's heel like a silent, subservient dog. It remained by her, following, as she strode out of the door and into the biting air of the morning. Another mental expression coupled with a raise of her hand summoned her great, black corvid to her; the raven Familiar appearing from parts unknown and already to wing, circling overhead. It dipped down to meet the Bard, landing briefly on her forearm before taking to the sky again with a rasping caw. Smiling, Victoria mused to herself, "Sometimes, being a Necromancer is just fun." While she could not claim to have the full abilities of a Wizard, let alone one specializing in Necromancy, she comforted herself in having a firmer grasp than other spellswords or lute-strumming Bards. And few True Necromancers could boast her sense of outright style and showmanship.

With her magical menagerie of two, Victoria accompanied her Tiefling associate to the site. Sure enough, it did look like there might be something to this. There wasn't a whole lot uncovered, but what showed was definitely put there with a purpose. Responding to Kosara's suggestions, she said, "Yes... You have Cecily's permission, correct? Then let us see what is back there." A spark of impatient wonder touched her voice as she pointed in the direction of a tool shed at the edge of this field, "They must have shovels we might borrow."

A few minutes later, Victoria had two shovels and passed one over to Kosara. "I never did get a taste for manual labor, if I am being honest." Luckily, they did not have to toil for long before the vertical earth over the stones fell away in clumps, thanks to the thinness of the layer and the recent freeze.

Soon, the majority of a wall made of stacked, more or less flat stones was exposed, approximately seven feet high and six wide. A few of the rocks at the top slid down, revealing what appeared to be a corner of a long rotting wooden door, clogged with years or decades of root growth. A sudden, sour-sweet scent of old organic rot stirred from the small aperture they has just cracked. "Kosara," began the astonished Bard, "I think you might be onto something here." She smiled and looked to her adventuring associate. "Should we try to rip through this or wait for the others? I think I saw a couple mattocks in the tool shed." Her grin was near to mischievous.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@rivaan@Shoe Thief@Sigil@Arty Fox

Apologies all, for the shorter summary and update this week. The holiday has me busier than usual, and these pumpkins won't carve themselves besides. Anyway, concerning the big sparring match, please do post as an aside, like it was an event that occurred prior to or concurrently with looking around or exploring the rumormill. And if we have a tiiiiny amount of a temporal paradox in the meantime, we'll deal. This world is a place of moderate to high magic. It'll get sorted.

Per usual, DM me in our Discord for rolls, questions, if I forgot something, etc. Especially that last part, I have a nagging feeling I missed something important. Ah, well. It will come to me or it won't, or one of you will let me know. Thanks in advance.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Rose River Vineyard

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Coach House

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Weather: No fresh snow falls upon the hills and vines of the Rose River Vineyard, and the day is bright enough through the even cover of clouds as to make things easy to perceive at a distance. The existing snow remains a wintry, bright blanket on the ground, muddled in places of usual foot traffic. Wind gusts only occasionally, and it is most assuredly cold enough to keep the present snowfall from melting.

Time: Officially now, let us give it the label of Late Morning, as opposed to the more generic "mid-to-late" of the previous update. Some time had passed, but not enough for the remaining laborers to pause for midday repast.

Ambience: It is a brisk morning here in the start of winter, proper. White and bright, a curious rhyming scheme to describe the day, is accurate as well as catchy. Folks here find themselves in warm clothing and thicker footwear than just a month prior as they work out in the vineyard. And work must be done, of course. The late harvest grapes must be harvested late, as the name implies, when the conditions call for it. Apparently, this is not to occur on this day.

The grapes which remain upon the vine, cared for by the staff still, were once pale green of color but now begin to have a yellow tinge and a touch of malformation to the skins. These details are marked by their handlers and appear satisfactory. Work continues. These grapes look in opposition to the few stragglers found by Kosara earlier in the week - them being small, dark, and generally unwholesome. The white ones are clearly intended to have some age before picking.

A couple of smaller barges make landfall at the beach underneath the Estate House. Cecily could be seen walking down to meet them, pointing and giving instruction as things began to be offloaded. The few persons crewing these boats were all Human, evident by their relative heights and builds from the distance as they delivered staple products to their clients.

*****

The talk with Urmdrus was, per the older Dwarf's proclivities, very short and very direct. He answered questions with as few syllables as possible and a gruff voice. "Armor resists acid. Not person wearing. Helps. Needs magic, better help person wearing." His grasp on the Common language showed its lack of complete fluency as he spoke, but he figured something out eventually. "Different. Yes. Different Dwarf." Urmdrus looked a little annoyed. But it passed, and he got back to work.

Kosara's discussion with Cecily concerning the partially uncovered rock wall bears a little fruit, but after said fruit was skinned and seeded, not a truly satisfying amount. There was a haze of confusion at first, until mention of a Sycamore tree was made. "Yes! I know that tree. Hugo and I had a picnic there once! Before it began to rain it was actually a lovely time. We harvested that area for the year already and if I'm not mistaken, it should be dormant for now. I'm sorry, I don't think I know anything about a buried wall over that way. It has been a while, and I don't walk the grounds so much. My husband was the one who grew up here; I just married into the L'Rose family." She gave some light consideration and added, "You have my permission to find out what you can about it, if you like. The Vineyard grew from diverse products at its founding. Perhaps you've stumbled across an old workshop. Wouldn't that be exciting? Yes, do look into it, please. You may acquire hand tools from any one of the worksheds attached to the fields."

Kathryn's time spent poking around with the local laborers was even less informative, but they did not particularly shoo the towering Knight away. The most useful bit that could be gotten from them came in the form of, "Ancient horrors lurking beneath the opulent manor? What? No! The only thing under the manor (most as I'm aware) is the main winery, proper! You can get there through the main house or..." The fellow pointed up to the easternmost gazebo, "That's how us paid-by-the-week folk get in." What was inferred from speech was that the main winery was below. Another point of idle gossip, such as only a rare few were being idle, came the vague opinion that everyone felt sorry for Lizbeth, as most of her family dropped dead on her at a tender age and something might happen to the Vineyard if Cecily died as well. Past that, it was hard to gather much that sounded remotely reliable.

For those who actually decided to take the trek out to the place mentioned, one would find it easy to locate. A sycamore tree standing by itself nearish to the Southern parts of the vineyard tended to stand out among the rolling hills of grape vines. Climbing the hill was also a relatively easy task, though the steepness of it made it slightly less useful to grow crops upon without terracing. Hence, only the sunny side was planted, near the river. Kosara's experience was also a useful tool in locating the place, as it could be indicated with a point and an utterance of thataway, or nearabouts. The description of the spot was dead on, as well. It was a spot on the shady half of the hill, just to the side of a worn path large enough to accommodate a farm wagon, now covered in a layer of crunchy, white snow. The mild hollow which held the rock wall looked like an excellent spot to step to the side as agricultural folk passed through with heavy burdens of their profession, or turn a wagon like that around, and likely was used for that purpose precisely. This time, about shoulder level for most of the taller races (Human sized, give or take) one could make out the space where frigid ground had cracked away under the weight of someone leaning on it, revealing a vertical space of intentionally stacked stones. It wasn't but a half-yard of exposed rock, but the very nature of its piling gave one heavy inclination to believe that it was much bigger than just the part showing.