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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] 10 / 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] F12 -> [b]E13[/b]
[color=9932cc][i][b]Action:[/b][/i][/color] [i]Casting Spell[/i] (Dissonant Whispers)
[color=9932cc][i][b]Bonus Action:[/b][/i][/color] [i]Bardic Inspiration[/i] (Marita)
[color=9932cc][i][b]Reaction:[/b][/i][/color] N/A 
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[right][img]https://i.ibb.co/Fw0Ldxw/Victoria-Alt-ss.png[/img][/right]
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	OUCH. This amount of concentrated pain was new to Victoria. She had suffered greater collective hurts prior to this day, but the single blast of black, eldritch energy took a [i]lot[/i] out of her. The fact that she was still more-or-less on her feet was amazing to her. She had to have broken a couple of ribs, thanks to the sudden difficulty in inflating her lungs without a sharp report answering her attempt. The damage otherwise felt intense, but at present not life-threatening. Granted, her actions practically begged for a martial response even if she thought it necessary. Too many people were ignoring the crazed wererat Warlock with the best long game out of anyone on the field. This concept fully in mind, Victoria was relieved that she was able to evade the second blast, positive that it would have resulted in her both expressing her mortality in a practical manner, and settling her internal query as to which deity of death or the dead would open their ethereal doors to her. 

	Maybe it would happen this night. Victoria was prepared for it, even if it would mean that she could not complete her ongoing and long-term personal goals. The idea that this might go unfinished prior to her sudden lack of vitality filled her with questions about the nature of herself and what might happen to her, but even this was academic. If it happened, it happened. There was strong preference to continue pulling air into her body (even if it hurt just now) and sample fine wines, make music, experience life in manners both studious and hedonistic, etc., but a higher priority called in that moment. The others seemed more galvanized in their need to stop the Constable, and she was about to spend the last of her abilities to assist in that very task. 

	First, the purple-clad Bard looked to Marita, the one who was trying from the start. Curious that she would voluntarily lean her support toward a Law Cleric, but here they were. Perhaps part of it made sense; one of her preferred sources of knowledge was the Jasidan's White Book and other such sources, all of them rather profound in their adherence to Order, if of their own making. But even this thought was immaterial in this crucial time. Drawing upon the last of her reserves, her "force of personalty", one might say, Victoria addressed the Cleric in a voice brimming with infectious confidence. [color=9932cc]"Almost got him, Marita. Just one more. [i]One more[/i] good one and we have him dead to rights!"[/color] Her voice faltered a little toward the middle, an effect of her damaged physicality, but the resolve with which she continued shone through. 

	Far be it for Victoria to limit herself to merely hyping up her teammates, she moved to her right to get a better vantage on their visible opponent, as Kathryn and Baronfjord moved to take forward positions. Once a good line of sight had been established and she confirmed that she was not too far away for her dwindling spellwork to be effective, Victoria began to whisper and chant quietly, seemingly to herself though her eyes never left Cavendish. Whispered words floated across the battlefield, quiet but striking only to their intended recipient, which echoed within his mind as scattered phrases of the dead and dying; those he knew and many he did not, whispering promises of the hereafter and what horrors her would face upon his fast approaching demise. It reverberated, noises clashing upon themselves and turning into a cacophony within his psyche, driving him further and further to senselessness. 

	Unfortunately, he had been subjected to this very attack earlier, and was able to put up a rudimentary defense this time. The spell did not have its fullest effect, but did gently take him to a headache which felt to truly be splitting, as psychic damage caused noticeable trails of crimson to seep from his nose, mouth, and ears. Were he not in a furred, myanthropic form, one would note a blanching, pale complexion. Cavendish did look distracted as his eyes glazed and fixed in one direction, head weaving uncertainly back and forth for a moment. 

	Victoria could feel her abilities coming to exhaustion, sooner rather than later. At least she could retain some usefulness as a proficient wielder of a fine, silvered sword. Though she still had one trick left. 
 
 
 
[color=red][b]Marita has another Bardic Inspiration (1d6).[/b][/color]

[@Remipa Awesome] [color=598527][b]Kathryn[/b][/color] is up. Go be a hitter.