[center]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/center][center][img]https://i.ibb.co/R9YbZV3/icewine-nighttime-vineyard.jpg[/img][/center]
[center][img]https://i.ibb.co/vXD6Q0t/Update-Text.png[/img][/center][center]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/center][center][hider=Rose River Vineyard][img]https://i.ibb.co/yRk60Zg/Vinyard-Estate-Gridded-Day-Lv4.jpg[/img][/hider][/center][center]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/center]
[center][hider=Tasting Room][img]https://i.ibb.co/7xg5TgS9/Tasting-Room.jpg[/img][/hider][/center][center]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/center]	
[center][hider=L'Rose Winery Storage][img]https://i.ibb.co/cSGfhtY0/L-Rose-Winery-Storage.jpg[/img][/hider][/center][center]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/center]	
[center][hider=L'Rose Winery][img]https://i.ibb.co/twTZ3XSs/L-Rose-Winery.jpg[/img][/hider][/center][center]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/center]	
[center][hider=Gazebo Winery Entrance][img]https://i.ibb.co/hRy8dyF0/Gazebo-Winery-Entrance.jpg[/img][/hider][/center][center]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/center]	

	[u]Weather[/u]: It's a still but chilly night for a stroll. The snow is fat, slow, and vertical on the descent, signifying a now dull to nonexistent wind.     
     
	[u]Time[/u]: Per the usual procivities of the diurnal/noctunal cycles of the beasties out and about at this hour, it is indeed nighttime. 

	[u]Ambience[/u]: The outside is a lovely place. Cold, but amazingly colored with snow and fiery lamplight, the occasional soft glow of moonlight breaking through the clouds as snow lazily does what snow does when left to its own devices. It's just beautiful out here, so long as you don't mind the cold. 

	Inside, the scene begins to shift from the Tasting Room, still as cozy and mysterious as ever. The place is well lit by candles and lamps both, and the sweeter, earthy scents of wine, bread, fruit, and cheese. The previous feelings of social oddness and/or friction are alleviated somewhat by the movement of people away from the central group and off to their tiny tours. 

[center][color=darkgray][h2]*****[/h2][/color][/center] 
[img][/img]	
	Lizbeth gave an unsure glance in her aunt's direction when the question was put to her about the Ziegelrote, a series of easy-to-read expressions serving to act as a contextual inquiry. These expressions were answered with similar feats of facial telepathy by Cecily, who finally conceded with a polite smile and a nod. The elder L'Rose then led her troupe of tourists out of the Tasting Room and into the production area. 

	Before her aunt could close the door fully, Lizbeth had already decanted a small portion of the Ziegelrote into a carafe to allow the particularly aged wine to breathe. [color=darkgray]"Give this a minute before sipping, please,"[/color] she advised politely. Wide eyes regarded the off-reddish liquid, which still bounced back and forth a little in the glass vessel. There wasn't enough present for a full glass; certainly enough for Lizbeth's three guests to have a taste (with perhaps enough left over for just one more). Having gone over the basics of the wine already, there wasn't much left to do except for sample. To this, she waited patiently, with even a bit of apprehensive smile. 

	Those sampling the wine itself would note a flavor of decent, intense quality; not as complicated nor as nuanced as the ones they had partaken of previously, but an unblended varietal of grape made with uncomplicated procedures and left for nearly a century with a touch of neutral brandy (made from the same grape) to stabilize for long-term casking. One might say that it was an acquired taste. Another might say that it was unfettered by pretense. It was not as much of a rich and flavorful experience as the Zinnoberrot, nor the Honigblume. But the fact remained as stated earlier - this wine was rare, even for this locale, and likely none more existed with this amount of age. And quite fruity, in hindsight. 

	Lizbeth looked around at the three gathered before her in the Tasting Room and waited until those who wished to sample could do just that. She gestured around their immediate vicinity, informing, [color=darkgray]"The best reserves are in this room. For, um, special occasions like this one. Oh, and Mademoiselle Kosara, those brandy barrels you asked about? They were just over sixty years old, I think. About the same time the Vineyard started - second, maybe third harvest."[/color] 

	Seemingly without reason, Lizbeth's pleasant expression faltered. She took the final sip of the decanted Ziegelrote (that she probably wasn't given permission to sample) and sighed. Tears began to well in her eyes which she immediately scrubbed away with the back of her hand. [color=darkgray]"It's good,"[/color] she said with passionless monotone. [color=darkgray]"If you want to avoid the others in here, it's okay. There's really good wine and no one would blame you."[/color] Her voice quieted and she continued in a different line, [color=darkgray]"I know something bad is happening. I don't know exactly what it is, but it's gotten worse. And I've been seeing people look at the door to Grandfather's study. If you want to drink wine, that's okay. But if you're going to do anything else, do it while the others are distracted."[/color] She looked suddenly pale, as if untouched by the sun for weeks. Eyes were sunken and dark. Lizbeth shook the last few drops out of her glass, attempting to savor whatever might remain but seemingly taking no pleasure from the experience. 

[center][color=darkgray][h3]*****[/h3][/color][/center]

	Meanwhile, out in the Winery Storage area, Rens was on a seemingly epic quest to locate the "something-something Red" described to him earlier, though with some difficulty as he simply could not parse out the exact location, nor the exact vintage, not even what Annick was talking about specifically. One could argue that he was given the appropriate directions, and even if he wasn't, Rens was the Master of Wine in this place and should be able to figure it out. He was a professional, after all. [color=darkgray]"I, ah... Hmm,"[/color] he sputtered, angling mentally on how he was going to sate the needs of this polite(ish) but problematic request. [color=darkgray]"No no, I'm positive it's back this way. I think."[/color] The lead away was unsure at best, but at least it [i]looked like[/i] the portly Winemaster had a plan, even if he didn't. 

	On the way out to the possible location of the "something-something Red", Cecily's group walked parallel to Rens's at the beginning. This gave the Halfling farmer, Barbal Mosswater, the opportunity to respond to Kathryn. [color=darkgray][b]"Hmm... Later on in the day, maybe. No, we can probably manage Teatime. Afternoon, then? Might just pay Madame L'Rose a small visit while I'm out this way, so long as I don't act the fool with the wine tonight, hmm?"[/b][/color] There was a jolly smile on his face. For the most part, the Mosswaters aseemed to be having a great time. 

	Rens had the thought that he might have finally found the appropriate wine near to the entrance, all the way on the opposite side of Storage from the Tasting Room. He decanted a small amount into a carafe and swirled it gently, then poured it into quite miniature glasses he happened to have in his person, one for Annick and one for Kathryn. And one for himself. He was the Master of this wine, after all. The wine itself would prove robust, tannin-y, and equal parts floral and vegetal in flavor to the discerning palate. Otherwise, it was a decent enough product worthy of being part of the Vineyard's stock, if not [i]amazingly[/i] special. [color=darkgray]"Was this the wine you were thinking of, Medician Floquet? And Lady Kathryn, what is your opinion?"[/color] He looked hopeful. 

[center][color=darkgray][h3]*****[/h3][/color][/center]

	Outside in the cold and snow, Baronfjord found a regularly lit path and beautiful bit of scenery stretched out before him. On the occasions when he could see beyond the glow of the lamplight along his mostly straightforward path, the task-oriented Dragonborn might glimpse a picturesque landscape in the middle of rural Avonshire, if the moonlight did well to cooperate. However, seeing wasn't always the best thing ever, nor were the sudden revelations of things when alone in the gloom of firelit night. 

	At first, in the circular, arena-esque setting of the meeting spot, one might look upon the figure bathed in irregular light and guess that it was wearing loose but stiffening clothing. It was hard to say whether it was facing toward or away from Baronfjord at initial distance, but getting closer would reveal more detail. Unsettling, vivid detail. One might have to blink and look twice to take in that which was being shown, which, and in small terms, subverted certain social norms. Yes, its back was to Baronfjord, at least at first. One could tell it was its back because shoulderblades were prominent against fully naked skin. Colorful, fully naked skin. 

	Bold inkwork depicting leafy vines entwined about exposed skin, festooned with purple, red, and white-green grapes, artistically inserted into skin with care and craftsmanship. The entire, fleshy canvas moved with a sudden, unexpected puff of breeze, like a tarp which wasn't fully attached to a framework. There was a shock of curly, dark hair upon the figure's head which didn't seem to sit quite right. Puckered in place. Ill-fiting. Too large upon a smaller head. The growing grotesqueness continued as the figure began to turn around when Baronfjord neared. 

	This new addition to a mental vault of horror was a lone skeleton, which looked very much like its flesh had been recently stripped away. Where it was visible, tendrils of meat and sinew remained, the oversights of a novice butcher stripping a corpse for market. But most of it could [i]not[/i] be seen. One could describe this thing as "naked" true, but it did have attire, of a sort. The skeleton wore its own lower half of dermis like a macabre pair of loose trousers, held up by thick strings sewn into the waist and tied off to the pelvis and ribcage in irregular knots, its frozen unmentionables on full display. The upper half of its skin was faceless and split into a colorful, tattooed jacket which hung over its bony shoulders, what was left of its neck, ears, and hair formed a dripping, mostly frozen hood which clung poorly to its skull. Hollow, broken-out eye sockets stared into Baronfjord's soul. 

	The thing-which-was-once-Human raised a cracked glass filled with what might have been white wine and splashed it past its bloody, articulated mouthbones as if drinking a hearty toast, splattering bones inside and wetting the interior of its tattooed suit. When the last of it was gone, the thing shattered the glass over the nearby stone bench, leaving the bottom most part of the bowl a jagged mess reaching maybe two inches above the stem, which it gripped like a shiv. [color=black][b][i]"Are you enjoying the wine tasting as much as I am, you insignificant creature?"[/i][/b][/color] came a menacing voice, impossibly issuing from the direction of the abomination before Baronfjord. [color=black][i][b]"Do they truly need ALL of you to complete the assignment? I grow impatient."[/b][/i][/color] 

	It took its first steps forward, shard of wine glass in hand.

[hider=Meeting Spot][center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/0b451289-078d-490e-a922-f2acbf4125be.png[/img][/center][/hider]