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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] G11 -> [b]F13[/b]
[color=9932cc][i][b]Action:[/b][/i][/color] [i]Class Feature[/i] (Note of Undeath)
[color=9932cc][i][b]Bonus Action:[/b][/i][/color] [color=black]Swarm of Rats[/color] 
[color=9932cc][i][b]Reaction:[/b][/i][/color] N/A 
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[right][img]https://i.ibb.co/kJ2BTjD/Victoria-HF.png[/img][/right]
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	Victoria wasn't aware that Kathryn wanted to dance. Even in the middle of mortal combat, it was rarely a bad idea to shuffle and tap in rhythmic step, letting one's body sway to the cadence of swords and fire; the Bard felt that it brought her closer to the application of practical spellcraft, from her profession's point of view. But Kathryn was no Bard, and she was certainly no Wizard. There was another reason for the sudden lift, and knowing what little she did of the tall and muscle-bound Knight, it probably had some direct, martial application. This didn't stop her from breaking into a cheshire grin about midway through the lift and hit the ground with a twirl, her boots clapping softly upon fitted stone and arms outstretched (just as soon as her sword cleared killing range from Kathryn, of course). 

	The lift gave her momentary elevation enough to notice something on the other side of the fire. A split second gave her a view of several small bodies, smashed and burned, with their living rodent brethren still crawling about their numbers. There was promise here. Victoria didn't quite come to a stop; rather she momentarily slowed her dance just enough locate a decent vantage point, and went for it. The Bard went low, moving to place herself in a position to put the rightmost fire barrel between herself and Cavendish, providing a more than fair amount of direct cover while still allowing some sight into the area beyond. From a crouch, Victoria lay her sword to the side and replaced it with her violin bow. A few dulcet notes parted the crackle of fire, smashing sounds, and labored breath of battle, building upon itself as Victoria sprinkled a mote of Necromancy into the tapestry pattern of the Weave, reaching out in front of her, between the Constable and herself. 

	Something answered her call. 

	Tiny creatures, recently discorporated. Smashed, tread upon, flesh burned mostly away. Bones clicked back together like horrid kernels of popping sorghum in a hot pan. Charred meat twitched and pulled upon itself, gathering former individuals together to act in concert with one another. Unlike the living rats which milled about aimlessly in their predetermined area, the dead ones surged forward with directed purpose. They were mindless, loyal, and (best of all) completely disposable. Victoria knew that they could not cause Cavendish any actual harm - it was fully beyond their ability being neither silver nor enchanted as a weapon - but they could attempt to [i]distract[/i] the monstrous Constable. 

	When the first of the dead rats began to crawl up his legs, Cavendish indeed looked distracted. 


[@Remipa Awesome] [color=598527][b]Kathryn[/b][/color]'s turn.