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[h2][color=darkorchid][i][b]Victoria Belmont[/b][/i][/color][/h2][i][b][color=9932cc]Half-Elf, Bard, Level 3[/color][/b][/i]
[color=9932cc][i][b]HP:[/b][/i][/color] 23 / 23	[color=9932cc][i][b]Armor Class:[/b][/i][/color] 15	[color=9932cc][i][b]Conditions:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[color=9932cc][i][b]Location:[/b][/i][/color] Arrival in Darenby -> The Infamous Pear, Meeting Table 
[color=9932cc][i][b]Action:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[color=9932cc][i][b]Bonus Action:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[color=9932cc][i][b]Reaction:[/b][/i][/color] N/A 
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[right][img]https://i.ibb.co/8r6nxVw/Victoria-FC-11.jpg[/img][/right]
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	"That pig of yours, is okay?" It was a fair question, if Victoria thought about it. The poor beast was wrapped from tail to snout in burlap, barely revealing tusks common to a more rural swine. Perhaps if it wasn't so gaunt the question wouldn't have been raised. Perhaps if it did anything except for stand there with unnatural silence in the back of a hay wagon. But there it was. The question was posed by an older fellow, a man of indeterminate years with more than a touch of grey in his short hair. He had been kind enough to offer a ride to the young lady who was now sitting in the back, her legs dangling off of the side. She was a stunning yet approachable woman who seemed very grateful for the chance to rest her legs. 

	Getting a closer look a things, the farmer might have chosen to simply tip his hat and move on. Indeed he was considering just that, but something about the woman changed his mind almost immediately. Maybe it was her exotic features, blending Fey with common Human traits. Or the way she smiled at him. And he had to admit there was something hypnotic about the cheery way she spoke, pleasantly with melodic tones. [color=9932cc]"Oh, Morty's just fine,"[/color] she explained, scratching the burlap on the top of the animal's head. [color=9932cc]"He doesn't like to make a fuss."[/color] Moving her face closer to the wrapped swine, Victoria scrunched up her face and spoke as if to an excited puppy, [color=9932cc]"Do you? Noooo you don't. You're a good boy, Morty."[/color] 

	Addressing the farmer again, the cheerful Half-Elf asked, [color=9932cc]"Hey, do you want to see him do a trick?"[/color] Without waiting for a response, she smiled and pointed at her pig. [color=9932cc]"Play dead, Morty!"[/color] The creature unceremoniously collapsed under its own weight and lay motionless as the wagon they were in rolled along the path. It stayed exactly like this until they reached their destination. She was a day early. 

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	Mellifluous vocalizations could be heard from the back of that humble conveyance as it pulled into the fort town of Darenby. Once inside, the farmer was glad to help the young lady get her belongings down. A violin case, backpack, a small pull-cart one might use for errands or groceries which contained a travel chest, and her pig. The man had no desire to assist with the pig, which was still laying there still as a corpse. With a smile, Victoria bid the man a good day, pressed a coin into his palm with a firm handshake, and looked to Morty with a hint of concentration. Shakily at first, the beast clattered onto its hooves and onto the street, accepted the rope handle of the cart from its mistress, and followed dutifully behind as she walked deeper into Darenby. 

	Victoria seemed drawn to the edge of town. Not before picking up a few things for a late supper, but very soon, she found her feet bearing her down the side streets of Darenby, nearer to a wooded area at the edge of town which surrounded a cemetery. It was quiet, as places like this tended to be. Mostly even rows of grey stone marking the interred, but here and there a low mausoleum out of direct line of sight. These interested her, almost bidding her to stay for a while, read inscriptions, find out stories of the buried dead. There were soldiers laid to rest here. Commoners. Traders. Paupers. Heroes. All manner of men, women, and children taken at various points of their lives. This ground soaked in a lot of grief since it was consecrated to the purpose of receiving the dead. But it also held hope. Knowledge passed down the generations. It held secrets of life that rivaled the greatest of libraries, if only one knew where to look, or who to ask. This place was dedicated to death, and there was granite, unilateral strength that could be drawn from it. Victoria stayed there for the rest of the day, learning what stories she could. 

	When the sky began to grow dark, she retreated to a mausoleum, surprised to find that it was not locked or barred. Curious (and a little foolhardy), Victoria carefully made her way inside and sat against a wall, her possessions and ever faithful, hideously gaunt pig in front of her as she watched the shadows of the small room play across its features and the two raised, stone coffins in the sepulchre with her, until the light of day faded enough that her Elven ability to see darkness as greyscale transitioned in. Victoria wrapped her cloak about her snugly, summoning a mote or three of magic to warm the fabric and abate the chill of the evening, if only long enough until sleep found her. As she drifted off, memories of why she came to this place surfaced. 

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	It was a few towns over, on the edge of the region of Avonshire. Another city along a trade route, merely a point on a journey to wherever the road brought her next. She was just passing through, hoping to make her way to the sea. Chartering a boat to the busier northern regions would bring her to places more suited for her kind of people - those who sought and shared knowledge. She stopped for a few days in an Inn, trading music and merriment for room and board. As she might be traveling through the region for a while, stopping and getting to know the local customs seemed like a brilliant plan. She had not expected to find a sealed letter dropped into her hat - within which a polite person might have instead left a tip - and read it with no small amount of curiosity. Being that she was headed in that direction anyway, it wouldn't hurt to stop and take this Sheriff up on his hospitality.  

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	It was already late morning by the time that Victoria woke. She had not meant to sleep this late. Oddly, it was probably the best sleep she'd had in a while, even though it involved her huddled on a stone floor, leaning against a pull cart and covered with a traveler's cloak. People might have believed that her Fey ancestry supplanted her need for actual sleep, but they had no idea what they were talking about. Victoria need to close her eyes for extended periods just as often as the next Human, Dwarf, or Halfling. It wasn't a trick she picked up from her forebearers. 

	The problem with exiting a mausoleum (that you shouldn't have been in to begin with) in the late morning was that there was an increased chance of someone seeing you. Without an opportunity to speak and smooth things over with the locals, there was also an increased chance of someone alerting the local authority. So when she exited the cemetery, or tried to, a pair of those local authorities insisted that she be brought to a magistrate for questioning. More than that occurred during her time behind the stone walls of the fort, which worked out to her benefit. 

	It was some time before Victoria walked out of Fort Darenby, proper. She waved goodbye to the soldiers escorting her out, even stopping at one point to sign something for one of them. Her letter from the Sheriff, or just the seal of his office upon the letter, helped a [i]lot[/i] in keeping her out of trouble for the time being, but she had to leave with the promise that she wouldn't squat in other families' burial places for the remainder of her time in Darenby. She did return to the cemetery, however, to play a few, dulcet songs on her violin as a way of thanking the residents therein or any spirits which looked after the place for their hospitality the previous evening. 

	Victoria also returned to the mausoleum she used for shelter, though not to set up camp. She changed clothing, donning one of her best "first impression" outfits: A close fitting coat of orchid purple, black, and leather accents with a short train which flowed around her and resembled a longer skirt, depending upon the angle. Soft and shimmery silks could be glimpsed underneath, providing comfort and style. Slim pants of lightly mottled black were tucked into high leather boots which looked like they were recently purchased, and atop her red-auburn hair sat the biggest, jauntiest, [i]bardiest[/i] hat ever, made of charcoal felt and black leather. A plume of dark orchid rose from the hatband, bouncing lightly with her every step. Victoria made it a point to apply various pigments to her face; a little red here or there, a touch of purple and smoky wisps around her eyes, a light dusting of powder, etc. Minimal otherwise, as too much making up of one's face deprived the world of her fine features, a thing which she thought was truly a shameful concept. Completing the outfit, Victoria buckled on a cut-and-thrust rapier which looked better suited to a soldier than a duelist, beautiful in its simple utility, and a long dagger. A bright, silver raven skull brooch sat fastened to her chest, a stunning point of duality to her upbeat bearing. 

	The optimistic Half-Elven lady pulled her cloak about her and set off. It was coming near to nightfall again, and Victoria had an appointment to keep. After her time in the fort, she was more anxious to keep it, too. 

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	The Infamous Pear soon loomed before her. Victoria looked back to her porcine friend, still pulling the small cart behind it which now contained all of her belongings except for her violin case, the latter slung across her back like she was preparing to perform a concert. She waited for the flow of the environment to line up just right, as to give her the maximum amount of visibility upon entering the taproom. Victoria did love making an entrance. 

	The doors opened with a smooth, sweeping motion, admitting the image of the striking, young Half-Elven lady. A whirl of aubergine and darker fabrics swirled about as she entered with confident steps, moving purposefully toward the bar. On the way, she took the time to sweep off her very jaunty hat and curtsy for the Halfling fellow who waved her in, and completed her walk to the bar. [color=9932cc]"Oh, hello! So [i]you're[/i] the proprietor!"[/color] A lightly concerned expression took her face for just a moment as she mused, [color=9932cc]"So you're the man I need to speak to about the..."[/color] Victoria's voice went to a whisper just long enough to get out, [color=9932cc][i]"...the Arbalest Party?"[/i][/color] A knowing nod followed, which remained as the man went through his monologue. [color=9932cc]"Well thank you so much, sir. Before I go meet my fellow co-conspirators, I would just [i]love[/i] a mulled wine."[/color] 

	About this time, Morty the Pig trotted in after Victoria, still pulling her belongings in that small errand cart. It stopped just behind her and to the left, per usual, earning some very interesting looks from the proprietors and some of the few customers. [color=9932cc]"Oh, he's very docile,"[/color] promised Victoria with a disarming smile. Owen nodded and passed over a large goblet of warm, spiced wine, which she accepted gratefully. Her ring finger dropped into the goblet and began to stir it in a clockwise motion, tiny threads of magic bringing the wine up to a light steam. [color=9932cc]"Perfect. Thank you, sir!"[/color]

	Approaching the table was interesting. This was a group of highly notable individuals, including two Tieflings (the lady [i]just about[/i] as pretty as she was) a Human lady in religious trappings, and THE TALLEST WOMAN EVER. She studied them for a moment, keeping thoughts to herself for the meantime, and took an open chair. Morty set up behind her after nudging the cart into the nearby corner and sat down on his haunches, silently staring straight ahead like a mildly bacon scented, burlap wrapped pig-mannequin. 

	She swirled her steaming wine in front of her and took a small sip, smiling silent salutations to the rest of the table. [color=9932cc]"Hello,"[/color] she said sweetly. [color=9932cc]"My name is Victoria Belmont. Call me if V, if you like. I assume we're all here for the same reason?"[/color] Admittedly, she didn't know what that reason was. This was more of a question to see if anyone else knew yet. [color=9932cc]"I hope we can all be friends after this is done. The last group I was with didn't feel the same way. Which is a shame."[/color] 

	In way of personal salutation, Victoria looked to Alastor and gave a polite monosyllabic intonation. Marita was presented a respectful nod. Kosara received a quiet and demure smile. Finally, Kathryn was subject to wider eyes and a look of budding sarcasm as the less wise impulses she possessed encouraged her to say, [color=9932cc]"Wow... you ate ALL your vegetables as a kid, didn't you?"[/color]