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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] Cemetery, east of Avonshire Township 
[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/DRgDxdw/Victoria-III-Funerary.png[/img][/right]
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	 The flaw in the great plan to get the public involved was that despite them clearing a path, providing ample light, and procuring a very respectable amount of wine for the ceremony (such as it was), they were possessed of a whimsical bent birthed of alcohol and the yearly festival. Victoria's knowledge of the funerary practices of The Laughing Rogue, Olidammara, was adequate to the task, her personal history being a strong factor in this regard, though she had questions. Foremost among these questions was why this man followed a deity better suited to ne'er-do-wells and the socially unstable. There was a connection to wine there, true, but Lliira sounded much more suited to such a person. 

	People were complex. The Gods knew that her own family had some interesting tidbits of fact about them that would surprise the general public, were they to know - herself included. So this was none of her business about which to ponder aloud. Her task was to put the man in the ground with as much honor as a person of laity could, hopefully while bringing clarity to the emotions of the people in attendance. In this instance, putting on such a performance effectively would be easier than with other crowds, seeing as they were already mid-celebration and partaking of mood enhancing libations. So Victoria began. 

	The first few notes which flew from the friction between bow and string upon her violin were drawn out, clear, and designed to draw attention. It worked. Muttering and side conversations ceased, allowing Victoria to speak. [color=9932cc]"It is said that there is a temple of Olidammara anywhere there is wine, song, and laughter. It is also said that any place that sells ale counts as a shrine,"[/color] a smile flashed, allowing a moment for others gathered to get in their own murmurs of joviality. [color=9932cc]"...so I take that last statement with a grain of salt."[/color] 

	Victoria knelt to recover one of the bottles of wine given over to her for the ceremony, straining a little to open it. The cork gave way with a very audible and hollow [i]pop[/i]. [color=9932cc]"Before I play a song on behalf of the departed, let us raise a toast in his name. Does anyone have something to say about the late Monsieur L'Rose?"[/color] She raised the bottle to her lips, but paused, a wicked but disarming smile gracing her features, [color=9932cc]"In honor of the occasion and deity involved, it doesn't [i]necessarily[/i] have to be true."[/color] Or believable, for that matter, as long as it was in the interest of entertainment. [color=9932cc]"There will be time for honest dialogue after the earth was covered him."[/color] Bottle in hand, Victoria waited expectantly for someone to speak.