[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] Neil & Bob's Public House -> En Route to Silversmith's [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 [/cell][cell] [right][img]https://i.ibb.co/KW5Pyxx/Victoria-FC-3-II.png[/img][/right] [/cell][/row][/table][center]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/center] It was just the five of them now, sitting alone in what looked to be an abandoned Inn, except for the telltale candlelight. And Morty, though in any traditional sense one really couldn't count her preserved, porcine companion. Pure semantics, Victoria told herself, giving an ounce of concentration to the words of her fellows as they decided what to do. Time was running very short, and unless a practical idea was about to enter collective implementation, the Bard wasn't sure what course she was going to take. But is was going to be something, and soon. The words of their more recent Dragonborn associate piqued her interest first. She wasn't fully aware of what he meant by consecutive full moons but figured it was a colloquial way of addressing the evenings of that moon phase. It made sense under that context. And he was right; those evenings did seem to agitate the lycanthropes, at least from the stories she had been exposed to. Her concentration began to drift as he queried where the Constable might have learned magic. So far as she was concerned, they could dig up Cavendish's corpse and ask him then, provided she had acquired the magic to do so. It was only a matter of time. Kathryn's words which stunningly agreed almost in lockstep with her own did much to draw her attention, however. And she spoke with words that hinted at a plan. Not quite with as much flash and fanfare as she might have gone for herself, but a plan nonetheless that sounded like it had actual merit. Victoria had her worries. Holing up for the night meant that the first evening of the full moon would involuntarily transform everyone who had been affected and send them on a potential rampage, either under the sway of others or running about in utter chaos remaining to be seen, and they would be leaving the Township to whatever fate was to befall it without their assistance. It [i]was[/i] folly to charge out with nothing else going for them, in the defense of this plan, but it did seem like a idea designed to save themselves in the meantime. [i]Conceptually, Victoria had no problems whatsoever with this last part.[/i] As they all shared their hopes and opinions, Victoria rose from her seat and finished the last, room-temperature drops of her tea. She crossed over to her charcoal grey, purple-lined cloak and arranged it around for bit, testing its level of dryness from its time in front of the fire. Satisfied, she slung it over the back of the chair that she had been sitting in and, after a brief moment to admire the new alterations to her weapon, buckled on her swordbelt. Her stylish but utilitarian dagger found its sheath next to her sword, and with a distinct flourish, Victoria's very jaunty, plumed, epically brimmed hat (which screamed [i]BARD[/i] with many voices in unison) was lain atop her head in such a way that allowed her perfect, red-auburn hair to compliment it. These were the actions of a showperson readying with determination. And panache. Another odd quality to her demeanor as she buckled and donned was a curious humming coming from her lips. The situation had reminded her of a tune she learned ages ago. After a few seconds, deathly quiet words spilled from her with effortless, graceful melody: [color=9932cc]"...out of fear, we kept running; Tried to hide away. Can you hear? War is coming; Beckoning our fate..."[/color] She trailed off into a dulcet series of non-syllabic notes again, humming and trailing off. Motivation of self, likely, or some other reason as yet undisclosed to anyone else. This was soon interrupted by the explosion from Kosara as she leapt from her seat in revelry of the realization of the probable nature of Cavendish's abilities to harness magic. Victoria's eyes swept across the room and over to the sparsely clad Tiefling and, upon taking the sight in, averted her eyes with the tiniest amount of blush to her cheeks. Ever the consummate performer, she could readily suppress this and did so. A spot of luck put it that the pretty barmaid was nowhere around as she had invoked a similar response earlier, and silently she chided herself for becoming unfocused at a crucial time. There had to have been something wrong with her. [color=9932cc]"Absolutely correct, yes."[/color] At least she figured. But speaking of the young barmaid, Lea had left the room and had not returned yet. Victoria focused on this and scanned around, hopefully distracting her long enough to continue her train of thought and subsequently following actions. Centering herself, in a way. It was helpful enough. The Bard slung her violin case over her shoulder and moved it to her side opposite of her sword and deftly slipped her cloak over her stylish, reinforced leather armor and slim, purple jacket. [color=9932cc]"Not long now,"[/color] she said in a clear, even voice while walking towards the door to the town outside. She lay a hand on the pommel of her sword, continuing, [color=9932cc]"...until we see what shall happen."[/color] Her hand lay her hand on the portal and unlatched it, peering outside through a crack. [color=9932cc]"The Bed & Breakfast is nearer to the river. Let us get your mace back, Marita."[/color] She pushed the door fully open and strode out into the deepening fog. The stone-still, burlap-wrapped form of Morty shuffled once, as if to reassert its animation. The clicking noises of hooves upon wood sounded as the beast trotted to catch up to its mistress.