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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] Interior Silversmith's Shop 
[color=9932cc][i][b]Action:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[color=9932cc][i][b]Bonus Action:[/b][/i][/color] [color=black][i]Morty[/i][/color]
[color=9932cc][i][b]Reaction:[/b][/i][/color] N/A 
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[right][img]https://i.ibb.co/cwH99y5/Victoria-HF2.png[/img][/right]
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	So much for unattached curiosity. What began as an annoying disagreement between adventuring colleagues quickly degraded into a potential melee within closed quarters right next to a craftsman plying his trade with molten metal. [color=9932cc][i]"Of course,"[/i][/color] Victoria thought wryly to herself, [color=9932cc]"nothing could possibly go wrong."[/color] More than this, the nature of her Bardic College and preferred school of spellwork meant that she was fairly versed in what could happen if a group of nervous townsfolk become united under fear, ignorance, or outrage. To her opinion, the situation which was fast shaping up with the people outside and the wily but blunt gambit of the Guard inside with them was the first domino to fall, the end result being a riotous mob assembling with torches and pitchforks unless it was nipped in the bud immediately. With a shake of her head, V quickly packed away her ritual materials in preparation for hasty movement, whatever form that would take in the coming minutes. 

	This was one of the reasons why her modus operandi tended to involve ingratiating herself to the public somehow when coming to a new area. For instance, when she performed a funerary service for a known and respected member of the greater community. Unfortunately, she was also associated with a barfight the previous evening and did perform some actions that might have spread necromancy-ish rumors about herself. [i]The irony being that she used an illusion and a cantrip, not like they could tell the difference.[/i] [i]And[/i] she hadn't been in town long enough to foster the appropriate goodwill and/or celebrity that might have saved her from a mob looking for a target, either. In short, her stance on non-involvement just got its legs cut out from under it. 

	Following this revelation, the first thing Victoria did was mentally alter the standing orders on her smoke and salt preserved undead swineservant, Morty. No change might be noticed from the burlap enswaddled beast, though a mote of concentration might have been caught coloring the Bard's sharp and nigh flawless features, if only for a half-second. The second thing she did was to buckle on her swordbelt. The slender and much prettier weapon remained on the counter in front of her for easy access (and because she still wished to examine the handiwork of the talented Mr. Mallard). Both an appreciation for beauty and a touch of vanity were hallmarks of Victoria's psyche, as any insightful observer might recognize, even in this potentially perilous moment.

	Finally, Victoria's normally very controlled expression switched to one of disbelief and anger as Kosara ...Kosara-ed... In the most painfully foolish manner that she could possibly think of, and the purple Necrobard was no stranger to bad decisions, herself. [color=9932cc]"Are you suicidal?"[/color] she whispered through clenched teeth, forgetting herself and her composure for just a moment. It took a lot to truly surprise Victoria. This did it. There wasn't enough time to fully process what came after; to her estimation this was about to turn ugly and if someone didn't handle it, and soon, she was going to have to do something less civilized than with which she was comfortable. A slow hand gripped the hilt of her newly worked rapier even as she opened her soul to the lines and threads of magic within her. Even she wasn't completely sure what or who would be the focal point of her attention.