[center]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/center][table][row][/row][row][cell]
[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] Avonshire Township, heading out of town (East) 
[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 
[/cell][cell]
[right][img]https://i.ibb.co/DRgDxdw/Victoria-III-Funerary.png[/img][/right]
[/cell][/row][/table][center]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/center]
                                                                                                        
	Annoyance came first. The eternal extrovert that Victoria was, it was a fact that the overabundance of people milling about her and the procession she was with prevented her from getting to where she wanted to go. Being just a few inches over five feet tall, the less vertically challenged Humans prevented her from getting a clear look ahead of them. The nearer to the town square they moved, the slower they seemed to go. So getting back to that emotion, Victoria was annoyed. At least no one seemed to mind Morty. If they did, no one said a word. 

	Beyond the general impatience of the moment, they were without one of the usual items necessary for proper funerary dedication to Olidammara. The thought was to pick up some wine on the way to the graveyard, but with how busy the town seemed right then, doubt crept in. When they had come to a near standstill with unseen fun stuff just ahead, Victoria knew that she had to do something. Perhaps there was a way that she could turn this difficulty into an asset. Her wheelhouse was [i]people[/i] after all. Mostly the live ones, too. There were plenty of those around. 

	A sigh exhaled from Victoria's lips as an expression of resolve tightened her features. She unslung her violin and carefully lifted her bow to the strings. The instant a note resonated from within the belly of the acoustically crafted wood and escaped into the greater world around them, a smile graced Victoria's visage. Nigh joyous brightness shone in her eyes, crystal blue points contrasting the darker, more macabre markings on her face. The second note came, a louder, drawing sound which caught the attention of those around the tiny procession. More notes began to pile upon the first two, adding into a progressive melody greater then the sum of its parts, taking attention away from the town's center and to the Bard herself. 

	Her appearance was exotic for this Township, her music brimming with passion and talent. Initial steps of a lively dance encouraged people to shuffle back a pace or two, but not move so far as to get away from the upbeat, musical woman. Some even began to clap their hands or stamp their boots in cadence to the song, such as it was. The townsfolk of, and visitors to, the Township of Avonshire proper needed very little in the way of encouragement to act in a manner of joyous, harmonious frivolity. This resulted in a crowd doing its best to move out of the young Half-Elf's way, parting before her and closing again behind the funerary procession. Victoria moved up to join Cecily, keeping a pace behind her and to the side as this was her funeral march to lead, even if it was to more upbeat music than usual. Maybe not for Olidammara, but this was guesswork. 

	What was even more interesting was that Victoria's gambit to get freer movement got the group followers. With the idea that this was another side event in the overall festival, the Bard began to "Pied Piper" the people of Avonshire in the wake of the errand cart containing the remains of the deceased Mr. L'Rose. Unexpected as it might have been, it did lead to them making amazing time. They cut seamlessly through the town center, where music and food was to be had, and to the main thoroughfare leading east, out of town. 

	Before they had gotten too far, Victoria paused her music and addressed the crowd gathered around them all: [color=9932cc]"Good people! Good people of Avonshire! This night of thankfulness for a successful harvest is spotted by a moment of grief for some of your own. Your man, L'Rose, of the Rose River Vineyard, is to be interred this very evening, and by [i]his[/i] wishes we praise the Roguish God of Wine and Works Most Clandestine, [i]Olidammara[/i]!"[/color] A few cheers, some clapping, and a few questioning faces met her very gothic-looking gaze. She raised her violin once more to play, but first spoke, [color=9932cc]"This is a touch impromptu and rather hastily assembled, so the bereaved were not [i]quite[/i] as prepared as they would like. But communities come together, yes? Help in times of need? People of differing faiths standing proudly under the same banner of societal unity? So I guess what I [i]really[/i] want to ask is..."[/color] Pause for effect, watch the anticipation of what might be said next grow, then, [color=9932cc]"...might you all spare a lady some wine?"[/color] The inquiry came with a charming, mischievous smile playing across her face that colored her words intrinsically, and then a sly wink to hammer it home. 

	By the time the music began again, cheers rose all around and the procession continued with complete strangers joining them, many doing what they might to secure the finest of available vintages on the way out. A religious service done for the God of Rogues and Roguishness was a rarity in this part of the country; between that and the call of excellent music, this was a thing to witness. 

	Still, not one soul seemed to notice, or say anything about Morty, who kept mindlessly following Victoria's mental prompting onward.