"Thank you," began Victoria, utterly surprised that a simple plea to conviction, if presented earnestly and with deference to her authority on the matter, succeeded where other attempts at getting her to talk about ...anything.... resulted in death threats. Victoria gave thought to her party's flippant suggestions that she merely insist and everything would be fine. Inwardly, she gave a passing fancy toward stuffing all of them into a cookpot and animating the remains later. It gave her a tiny smile.

Annick misread her expression as smugness and hardened her voice. "Wipe that off your face and keep working while you listen. I need those books copied word for word, line for line. Leave space for the illustrations. All right, good." The Medician pulled a chair over to where Victoria sat. Curious, the younger Miss Floquet also brought over a chair. Her mother rarely opened up about what she did and what she knew from years ago, so this was indeed a rare reveal. Annick began, "I was just a midwife back then. Younger than Annabelle is now and... I assume you are now, too. Hard to tell with you Half-Elves. I got conscripted, but I didn't mind. It isn't always good for a young girl midwife in a small town, most folk figure you as marriage bait. And I was such a patriot then, too. Stories of High Knights and powerful Wizards seeking glory in war. Gods, but I was stupid."

The Medician paused for a moment and allowed a grim expression to take hold of her. "I know this doesn't answer you directly, just... let me get through this." Victoria gave her mentor a silent nod and continued pressing ink to paper. Annick continued, "The needed healers for the battlefields. Didn't tell us that part. They also didn't tell us that we had to figure out how to stay alive when armies of the Undead attacked. We weren't Clerics with their fine, wound-knitting blessings. We had to get swift feet and swifter hands. We had to get strong, fast. The ones who didn't got ripped to pieces. There were over one hundred of us who went in for training as combat healers in my zone. After three years, just north of twenty remained. We had to forage for a lot of our food, improvise tools, perform surgeries in the middle of killing fields. More than a few times we had to slip away and behind lines to smuggle supplies back. Some nights, laid up in entrenchments, the mud we were all stomping around in reflected red in the moonlight. The Dead don't take prisoners, for the most part. More they kill, more they get reinforced. Anyhow, doing this long enough will give you serious trauma and a reputation. That reputation... I got around. Saw some things. Heard more."

She rose and stepped lightly into the kitchen, grabbing a pitcher of water and tall, wooden cups. Returning, she filled them and downed half of hers immediately. "We were a ways east of here, where Elves are more common but, ah, not extremely popular." Her voice hinted as some incident or overall cultural zeitgeist that she opted not to discuss. "Field hospital, so to speak. Evacuation point where they bottlenecked the wounded before sending the worst off back, or let them die in peace. Those ones - we disfigured the bodies so they couldn't be used by the enemy. Anyway, I heard a story there. Overheard, more like. Some of the big, important people having a big, important meeting. They mentioned Avonshire. It was home, so, I listened. The important part is, all this stuff happened not during this war, but the one before it. A long time ago. Back before the nation of Aquitania spread this far south. None of this ... place ... was here a hundred years back. There are no ancient families on this land, least not Human or Halfling. The Township didn't even show up until trade with the coast was established, and that was... Well, not so long ago as someone might think."

Victoria wanted to ask questions, mostly on how this was supposed to relate to the name of the Prince that she knew nothing about. She opened her mouth to ask those very questions, but thought better on it and simply took a sip of water. Annabelle also looked confused, but said nothing. To her credit, Annick raised a had as if to ask for a moment to make the connection. "But there were people here, supposedly. Frontier folk. The first Human settlers, come for a new life away from their past. Rugged individualists, or something like that. Open land, if you didn't mind growing crops on rolling hills and a wet, godsawful tract of lowlands that made permanent towns difficult to build on over half the place. Anyway, those highborn jackasses were worried about a possible attack from the southwest, about where we are now. Rumors even further back says that there was troop movement out in the moors, but nobody reported anything. No settlers, all those years ago, said a word. Encampments and brush towns were gone or abandoned. Nothing left, they were saying. And in the end, no attack ever came from here. No one ever said anything else about Avonshire, but the rumors persisted that there was an army out here, led by some Southern Prince, waiting for something. Maybe waiting for someone to give them commands. I don't know what is or isn't true, but I will say, the armies of the Alhazred Empire don't mind whether you're a warm body or a cold one. They'll make use of you. And they're very patient. And you, Miss Belmont, have a problem with the undead, don't you? Maybe it's coincidence. Best to fix it sooner than later."

Victoria was taken aback at how the things she had been listening to sounded like it marched in step with some of her dreams lately, if indeed the lines of mountains in the distance did mark this place as the same location her resting eyes saw. Her crystal blue eyes looked up from her book to the older woman, blinking once slowly and contemplatively. A sudden rush of aggression pulsed through the Bard's whole body, fading just as quickly as it came. Victoria's face was inscrutable as usual; a serene but cold visage from which she peered at her mentor. If she was correct and there was an army of the dead somewhere around there, moreover the vintage detachment of a prince of an occupying force, this meant danger. Dormant, but very present danger. It also meant knowledge. And treasures. And severe problems for someone enthralled by something powerful enough to still be sapient after all that time. What might something like that do to the land? What might that do to those living off of that land?

Instead of pressing more questions, Victoria allowed her tone to become icy. She carefully brought the book she was working on to a close. "Looks like I am done with this one. What would you like for me to transcribe next, Medician Floquet?" One hand felt the hilt of the long knife at her belt, as well as the black and gold pashmina she wore. Yeah, she might have proof that an occupying force from the Southern Deserts was once there.

Kathryn wasn't totally sure what to expect when she opened the box. Apart of her worried something creepy and evil would pop out and try to attach itself to her face. Maybe infect her with some sort of evil parasite creature. However, and thankfully, that did not happen. What did surprise Kathryn was that the box was attached to the floor, making it impossible to move. She wondered if the box was in fact a cover for a secrete ladder into an even deeper basement? If so, would it be smart to go down without proper backup? Sure Lizbeth was here but if things went really bad, then the most Lizbeth could reliably do for Kathryn was provide an extra swing against a foe or rush to find help. The fact of the matter was if there was something that Kathryn couldn't handle, Lizbeth would be in way over her head. Or if Kathryn got hurt, she was simply too big for Lizbeth to carry. Probably too big to drag, especially in full kit. But even if there was no secrete sub basement, those facts were true in any problem that may arise.

When the box opened with surprising ease, Kathryn was pleasantly surprised that there was in fact, nothing forcefully attach to her face, and also no ladder to a creepy sub basement. Instead it was... sacks? The box, had also been sorted with enough gold to run the vineyard for... a long time by Kathryn's guess. It was the funds to run a small kingdom. To build and maintain connections, hire workers or soldiers, build infrastructure, and live a life a comfort otherwise unknown to those without casual spending gold. "Holy mother of Selune." Kathryn mumbled. The temptation to pocket the funds was strong. Stronger than she wanted to admit. Strong enough to make her feel shame for taking riches that weren't hers. In fact, they likely belonged to Lizbeth, the girl she had been training with the last few months. Shaking her head, she saw the note tied inside of the box. Cecily. That guilt returned, she wanted to see what was inside of the letter, she wanted to know. But it wasn't for her. But people were dead, and more were likely to follow. And though Kathryn would never admit it to Lizbeth, Cecily was also a suspect. She had a lot to lose if things didn't go her way. She let Kathryn perform her investigation, but didn't offer up the keys. And she made it a point to point out what had happened to Lizbeth in such a tense situation. She couldn't be sure on the older woman. And thought Lizbeth was likely involved, she was more likely a victim.

Standing up, note in hand, Kathryn let out a deep sigh before opening the note. Kathryn read the first leg of the letter before taking a moment to stop. This felt like a point of no return. They were finally going to get answers, but she was terrified what they could be. Then she looked over to Lizbeth, thought of what this poor girl had been through, and knew she had to get to the bottom of things. Sitting down in the desk chair with a loud thunk, Kathryn read the rest of the note, her expression getting more and more grim as she read. As he talked about these cursed lands, as he wrote about Lizbeth and her condition, as talked about his second study. Then, the words that made her stomach drop. Made her forget all thoughts of gold, made her do the briefest of gasps. Catching her breath, she let out a heavy exhale and finished the note, folding it up and putting it in the leather pocket partially hidden within her armor, only to realize that was her old set. Folding it again, she slide it into a pouch, and then pressed that pouch underneath her breastplate. "Lizbeth. What do you know of The Prince." She spoke, at one point the words almost catching in her mouth. "If you know nothing that is fine, but I need your honest answer if you do know anything." Kathryn spoke out before she took a moment to breath, listen to what Lizbeth had to say, and stood up.

"We need to head back to the coach house. I think we can get some answers there." Looking at Lizbeth, and remembering the note, her hesitation took hold again. "When you find the place, please remember me gently. I made mistakes and was desperate to fix them." That probably meant that whatever was in there was going to be unsettling at best, and downright evil at worst. "It may not be best for you to join me there. Not where I am looking at least. We may find out things about your grandfather that may hard to process, and I don't want to skew your memory of him with whatever we find." Kathryn said cautiously. "We don't have to decide now. Let's see what else we can sort out here yeah? I'd hate to spend the whole day walking back and forth as we figure things out. We've already had our workout today, and cardio for work is far less fun than cardio for fun." Kathryn joked trying to lighten the mood some.

Kathryn turned to look back at the box and sighed. Closing it, and locking it back up, sliding the key afterwards into the pouch under her breastplate. "It appears to be funds to help run this place, as well as a few other reserve funds. It belongs to you under care of Cecily. And I hate to do this, but I am going to hold onto the key for a moment. I want to talk with everyone else what we have found first before we risk that box being opened again and tampered with. After I talk to everyone, I will give you the key to do with what you see fit." She felt terrible commanding the situation like that. Especially with how tempted she was to pocket the gold. But the fact was this whole room was also evidence. "If you have an objection to that let me know, you're an adult, and the key is yours by right. But you're wise for your years. So never be afraid to tell me what you think." Kathryn had moments she acted childish for her age, but on the opposite side of that, Lizbeth had moments where she acted more like an adult than one would expect of someone her age.

To keep working on the investigation, Kathryn was the mammoth in the room. The sarcophagus. Apart of her wanted to ignore it, move on, pretend it was all not a problem. But her job was to find the problem and deal with it. Walking up to the massive coffin like structure, she feared what could be within it. She feared that is also had some sort of wicked creature with intentions to attach to her face. Attempting to inspect the outside, it told her nothing she could use. "Can you make sense of it?" Kathryn asked hoping she didn't look like a dumbass. Before deciding "Fuck it" and deciding to just open the fucker. Grabbing the edge with both hands, bending into a squat, she then began to lift the cover, shifting a fair bit of rocky soil as the lid began to move.

The wait for an answer had been worrying, and BlackBerry momentarily wondered if he should try another entrance. But he had nothing to fear once the labourer opened the door to him looking so tired that Blackberry could only assume there had been other celebrations elsewhere during the night keeping her awake. He thanked her and then waited politely trying hard not to let off another sneeze.

Blackberry was relieved to see Jon safe and sound, and even possibly in high spirits. An eye-ridge raised in confusion at this point, wondering what exactly Cecily had told Jon, or if Jon had worked it out himself that something very bad had happened last night. He then worried about what he would say? How could he explain it? How could he explain to Jon that Toombes was sadly no more. Guilt and anxiety tugged at the edges of Blackberry's smile as he greeted Jon.

"Oh! oh, well no reason really. I simply wished to make certain you were well and comfortable after the evenings festivities. I trust you enjoyed yourself?" Blackberry had not been expecting simple pleasantries this morning. But he dutifully followed after Jon, stomping behind in the mans footsteps through the snow, to the end of the patio where he stopped and turned to look back at the Main House.

"Would you happen to have seen Lady Kathryn or Young Lizbeth about, per chance? It is no trouble if not, only I had offered to help them with a-" Another sneeze caught him off guard. once he had wiped is nose, he continued, "With an errand so I shant be able to lend much of a hand today. But if I may accompany you back to the Stables. I should indeed wish to hear how the rest of the evening went on." BlackBerry reasoned silently that accompanying Jon to the Stables would take hardly any time at all, and then he could go to the Study to join Lady Kathryn and Lizbeth. He wondered if they had found anything.

Following after Jon, BlackBerry could almost feel the grains of sand working against them all and if not careful they would all drown beneath it. Despite the cold, his sneezing, and the weight of the dampening blankets weighing down his shoulders, BlackBerry still managed to move with surprising jittery speed. As they walked his gaze kept drifting round with the fear that something may be lurking just out of sight over a wall or a snow bank ready to leap out and attack them.

"I must say I can see why Madame L'Rose suggested we stay for the season for if we had been caught elsewhere when this snow arrived I do not dare think of the outcome." He put himself between Jon and a particularly suspicious mound of snow. "If I may ask Jon, for I had intended to ask previously, but you have worked here for a while have you not? How was Monsieur Arnaurd L'Rose?"

Kosara’s first impression of the temple was that it was a pretty thing. It wasn’t as grand or as beautiful of some of the grand temples of course and she was a bit disappointed that there wasn’t an alter to Sune. Just a bit mind you, she wasn’t a super dedicated follower of the goddess of beauty to the exclusion of everything else. On the plus side however there was one for Lliira so that was good! Joy, dancing and celebrations were very important things after all and she was willing to kick anyone who said otherwise in the shins. There were only three people present as far as she could spot from the get go and two were seemingly busy doing their thing, probably worshiping their patron of choice. The third approached her and spoke with a frankly gravely, but charming manner.

“Ohh no! I must accept the responsibility and fight the dark tidings and their harbingers!” Kosara exclaimed in a great display of emotion and joy, arms flailing around in panicked fashion for a moment to react to the man’s proclamation of doom and gloom. She too joined him in the laughter after that though, a merry emotion filled almost childish laughter.

“It’s not a problem, sir!” Kosara replied grinning at him, her still loose hair framing her face in white, pale horns jutting from underneath the hair.” My name’s Kosara, pleasure to meet you! I'm a traveling dancer, explorer and adventurer.” She added, offering him a hand. The only visible weapon she had was the whip that the L’Rose’s resident dwarven craftsman gifted her. It was attached to her belt." This is a very beautiful temple you have." The tiefling added, still smiling.

“Think is there’s a bit of concerning issue… one that requires discretion” She said in a hush voice, throwing glances around.” We’ve had an undead situation last night at the L’Rose estate…” Kosara told him as quietly as possible, minding the other people in the temple.” We’ve dealth with it, but have reason to believe something serious might be happening, but not much information. We suspect it’s a situation that’s been brewing for years now, maybe as far back as the necromantic wars, so I was hoping the temple might have some records that might be of help? Anything from reports from the time, sightings since or suspicions? I was told there aren’t many divine casters that operate in Southmoor, but maybe there are records at least?” She asked hopefully.

Weather: The sky lightens just a bit as the sun, without quite the majesty of the warmer months, begins to show itself from behind slightly breaking clouds. It is still mostly overcast, still cold, but at least it isn't snowing.

Time: It's mid-morning, right and proper. People have began their days in earnest with a respectable amount of "post-breakfast" time having accrued without actually taking us away from the idea of a.m.

Ambience: Snow drifts remain dangerous prospects for those going off of the beaten paths (sometimes quite literally), as the lows don't seem quite as low and shorter obstacles lie in wait underneath a sheet of white. Much as a person carrying something sharp or within a bathhouse, running is discouraged for one's own safety. But this primarily affects those out-of-doors in these uncertain hours. The landscape around the Rose River Vineyard is quiet. Staff remains mostly inside of protected, warmer structures, coming outside only when absolutely necessary. This quiet is aided by the fact that this is, in effect, the "off season" for the Vineyard, bringing present vineyard employees to a minimum.

Southmoor is, for lack of a batter term, awake and as active as much as a small, rural town may get in the middle of winter. The sounds of tools of various kinds may be heard, sounding softly from behind closed and shuttered windows, with the exception of some farrier or another shoeing a horse. The relaxed, light pinging of hammer against nail seems to set the rhythm of the area. The ground maintains a respectable amount of snow, though notably without the solid amount present at the Vineyard. Woodsmoke casually travels upward in neat lines until wind diffuses it, giving the area a charming domestic feel despite the cold. Townsfolk greet one another curtly but generally not impolitely as they continue about their day's business.

The river stands still frozen, with only the most adventurous of children poking at it with sticks to ascertain its safety for play.




The Healer's home was uncomfortably still for a time, as the words unrelated to the topic at hand were left to sit within its walls. Annick eyed Victoria suspiciously, though not any more than she usually might, if all were being honest. "Yes," she coldly replied to Victoria's query into the books she was to transcribe. The older healer walked away and returned with a leather-bound tome and dropped it in front of the Bard with a silence-shattering WHAP. "This is a text on surgical tools from different cultures. Match the descriptions with the tools on hand here. Then transcribe. Then clean and polish them when you're done." It seemed that, with a lack of immediate patients to treat, this was more of a lecture and learning day.

Bringing the issue of last night's events marginally back, Annick spoke to her student, "I saw those books you were hauling around with your violin. Ritual magic, a primer on undead lore, certain religious texts." She shrugged, as if to shake off the breach of etiquette involved in looking into someone else's things. "You've got questions, child. Learning all the time, I bet. Try asking something more specific. Something I might have lived through instead of some scholarly history lesson. I'm not about that." Maybe she was trying to help, or maybe just scold the Half-Elf. It was hard to say which.

Back in the Study, Lizbeth looked to Kathryn with a dulled sense of emotion. Her face was not the bloodless pale it got sometimes; more of a look of profound mental weariness. The Prince. This was the question, and though she did not seem to know anything about title, nor of history, she did carry an expression of recognition. "I don't know anything about a Prince, Kat. I know that something whispers to me sometimes. The more I become..." There was a moment of hestitation before she spoke aloud what was essentially an already open secret, "...whatever it is I'm becoming, the whispers get louder. I still can't understand, not really. It has gotten worse recently." She left her words on the subject as such, with a distant stare growing upon her visage that made her look older than her (almost) fifteen years.

Lizbeth did not object to the key staying with Kathryn for the time being. In fact, she did not voice an opinion whatsoever, even if she didn't agree that she was an adult. The girl might have been a lot happier were she like other girls from town, worrying about her new smock when the Tinker's boy came around or sneaking away to pick berries out in the moors. It didn't seem fair. But here she was, digging around the belongings of her dead grandfather - her belongings now, technically - just over a year before she really was considered an adult by her peers.

The lid to the sarcophagus-like box upon its raised platform took some effort to move, or might have were it not being shoved about by a person of immense physical strength. There was a brief moment of resistance at first, then a grainy sound like grit between moving stones, and a sudden giving way as the lid retreated, revealing its contents. Those contents might have raised questions, in and of themselves. The box, or what could be seen of it inside, contained dirt, two hands' breadth from the top. It was loose, chunky soil, unpacked by time nor by pressure, containing shards of stone that, at a glance, might have been shattered remained of something tooled by sapient hands. This was a huge box full of dirt, or at least appeared that way.

On route to the stables, Jon was surprisingly direct and even a bit chatty with his responses to Baronfjord. "Oh, I'm afraid that I haven's seen hide or hair of Mademoiselle Lizbeth today. I thought she was staying with you in the Coach House lately, Lady Kathryn as well, yes? Anyway, I'm just now getting up and around today. A little late, what with last night. But I must say, rumors in the Estate House tell quite the story. I understand you fought off quite the ruffian?" He let the conversation develop a bit as his shoes crunched through almost the topmost layer of more or less evenly deposited snow, en route to the main stables.

"The late Monsieur L'Rose... Hmm, yes, I have been here for quite some time. I was a stablehand when I started here, some years ago. There's a job that most people move on from, or try to social climb away from, but I like taking care of horses. It's good, honest work, gets you out in the open air. Good exercise, too, keeping up with those fillies and fellas. I'm still a 'stablehand', but this stablehand tends horses, trains them, teamsters when needed, does some wagon repair. Even drove some of the short cargo runs when we're shorthanded. I'm the L'Rose family's go-to horse guy. But for the Master, well, he was the Firm But Fair type. Liked to keep a clear bottom line. Never late with pay but didn't allow backtalk from his staff, like he drew a clear line between his family and the help, y'know. Madame Cecily is a lot more hands-on than the old man, little more sociable, too. Why do you ask?"

At the Temple, the fellow with the broom balked at Kosara's extreme openness. "Miss ...Kosara! Yes, it's good to meet you. You can call me Thad. Um... are you sure you're not having me for some sort of oaf, here? I mean, it's an interesting story, and if you're being straight with me, then, um..." Thad shrugged his shoulders in something that resembled helplessness and blurted out, "I'm just the guy pushing a broom this week, really!" His voice crept higher in volume as he spoke, prompting the other two people in the room, supplicants to their preferred deity, to glance over more than once. They finished up their prayers and quickly exited the building. A candle was left burning on the raised platform in the center of the room along with a gathering of others.

Thad snapped his mouth shut until they left, and quickly followed up, "Um, this isn't really the kind of holy place that keeps records, I mean, maybe the town's Headman might keep something in his home, but this is a small town. You'd have better luck looking up records in the Township. It's where most every record like that is kept anyhow. Maybe I shouldn't have - and I'm sorry for pretending to be a priest, 'cause, I mean, all in good fun, right? I... I'm the guy with the broom." With mild desperation growing, Thad attempted a verbal escape with, "Maybe I can ask around for someone more official for you in town? Who knows about Necromancers and war and stuff, and... do I need to get my family away from here?"

"Surgical tools," muttered Victoria. She rose and pushed her chair back under the table they had been sitting around, then took the latest book into the other room to follow instructions. Annick had one formidable selection of these, many often redundant in their use and a few tools which were very specific of use. Many of them, to Victoria's inexpert reckoning, seemed unnecessary. But this was not her forte to pass judgement upon. She took to her instructions and matched up the descriptions of the items with the items themselves, and transcribed them into the new, blank pages. She sighed. The Bard had often read and sung stories of teachers putting their students through interesting tasks for the purpose of teaching them my immersion, like their minds would solidify around the knowledge by themselves by virtue of overwhelming presence, like a pugilist callousing their knuckles by slamming them into burning hot sand.

Victoria's mind, while more agile than average, might yet have preferred a more traditional educational setup for purely intellectual enterprises like this. Yet she found out that she was, in fact, retaining knowledge. Many of the tools she was cataloguing had become familiar to her, as were their general uses. She had, in her time with the Medician, even put a few of them to use on the people in the town of Southmoor. The accident at the lumberyard came to mind from weeks ago. Still, she was here to learn the trade and get information, not reminisce on simple surgery. So she put pen to ink, ink to paper, and copied the information from the books to the blank paper. And like a good student, made sure to clean and polish the tools, careful to finish with a diluted spirits solution as instructed.

As she worked, Annick came into the room to observe her progress. There was a token showing of looking over the tools and her writing, but ultimately the reason for her presence became apparent. A mug of hot, spiced tea was set down in front of Victoria, and the older lady opened conversation. "I suggested that you ask me about something that fell under my experience. I'm not a wizard, Miss Belmont. I have a soldier's background. I know what I've seen and what I've done, and I have years fighting against different sorts of undead as part of a large or small unit. We weren't heroes. You want to talk to a war hero, go speak to Gregory. I was a combat medician. We relied on intelligence and tactics. So tell me, what you know of this problem, and what can you reference about it?"

Victoria looked at her mentor with some annoyance, but quickly smoothed over her features. "The Knight and I have both been having dreams, like we were leaders in an army that stopped somewhere in these moors, murdering and enslaving everyone around. I think it may be connected with what's going on here. According to what we've heard, there have been strange things happening and it has gotten worse recently. There's..." Victoria paused for a moment, unsure whether continuing would or would not be a break of some unspoken trust with Lizbeth but ultimately speaking, "...something about the girl, Lizbeth. When we first met, she used magic to fix my favorite coat, from where a Goblin arrow hit me. She's been changing though. Still a bright, happy girl, but different. I suspect she's been using magic in other ways, too. And sometimes, I could swear that she's, well, dead. Or undead, maybe. But just sometimes, if that makes sense."

"I see," remarked Annick suspiciously. "You have some affection for the girl. But tell me more about the Prince you were yammering about before." She crossed her legs in her seat and raised her own mug of tea to her lips, took a steamy sip, and cleared her throat.

"Certainly," responded Victoria. She went on to discuss every interaction with the seemingly intelligent force behind the appearances of Undead upon the Vineyard grounds, detailed what she might about the attack on Baronfjord even though it was secondhand, and her own observations which included (among other things) the letters. Draconic which spelled out phonetic Abyssal. That gave Annick some pause, herself. "What I wonder is, if this 'Prince' already controls a detachment of an Undead army, then why hasn't there been any movement until now?"

Kathryn listened, doing her best to hide her worry about the small girl who she had grown to adore these last few months. She wished she knew what to say to make her feel better. She wished she knew how to help her. "Okay. I figured I would ask. You're a rather smart lass ya know?" Kathryn took a moment to think of what to say to reassure Lizbeth before speaking up again. "There are experts on these sort of things, so how about first chance we get we go see some? In the mean time, if you need to step back at any point, know I wont be offended. Sometimes we have to look out for our own well being if we want to succeed." Kathryn tried to reassure the small girl. "Plus I think we about have the kobold out the sack here. Then, we can work on our training, find our fancy experts, and enjoy ourselves. Games, stories, you can tell me more about that tinker boy you told me about, and I can share with you about the time I embarrassed myself in front of my teenage crush." Kathryn offered wrapping it up with a soft joke to ease the situation some. Sure, Kathryn didn't have all the answers. But, she was going to do what she could for Lizbeth. Even if just knowing she had support.

Kathryn did take note that the lid was rather heavy. Well, it took effort for sure. Compared to the wine barrels Kathryn had been carrying it wasn't all too bad. Plus she didn't have to carry this either. A simple shove and she was all set! The loud thud was not something she was too proud of. She was less thrilled to see what was inside. Dirt. So much dirt. Not something Kathryn normally would mind, but she remembered Victoria mentioning something about graveyard dirt last time she was in here. So not only was she defiling a potential grave, it was probably someone else's grave at one point too. Inspecting the dirt herself, all she could say for sure is that it was rather chunky dirt. A noticeable amount of rocks, heavy dirt clumps, and things that may or may not have been bone bits.

First, she attempted to just see what she could see without having to touch the dead people dirt. Sure, she was fine fighting and killing her foes. She however, still held an aversion to touching dead people and their places. It was, a lot for Kathryn. If she wanted to find anything else, she would have to... get into the thick of it. Deciding she didn't actually wanna touch it, and convinced something may still jump out, she took her hand axe and began to use it somewhat like a shovel, attempting to shift the dirt to see what she could see without disturbing things too much. The soil was surprisingly delicate. Like freshly tilled farm soil she had seen off the side of roads while traveling. Something had been in here recently. She was pretty sure. She had no idea how long it took dirt to resettle... "hey Lizbeth, you know a bit about agriculture right? How long does soil stay loosened up after its been disturbed?" Maybe Lizbeth knew, maybe Kathryn could guess, but something had fucked with this dirt before Kathryn did. She however, couldn't tell anything else. So she had to go deeper.

Taking her axe and shoveling up dirt to make a hole to see how deep it went, and to see if a corpse may still be present inside, Kathryn dug down to see what she could see. "Sorry, sorry, sorry, ew, ew, ew, sorry." She said to no one or god in particular. But she was sure someone had to be offended by her actions. She felt insulted just by doing the actions. Then, she saw the glow. A black green crystal that seemed to draw her attention close. Beckoning to her. It wanted to be held, it wanted to be touched. To be possessed. Kathryn resisted the urge. No curses today please. However, it didn't react when Kathryn attempted to move it about with her axe. But now that she uncovered it, she couldn't just leave it could she? No. No she could not. With a deep sigh, she put the silvered axe back on her belt, and hoping the metal and leather would be enough, she grabbed the gem with her hand and pulled it out. A sharp gasp escaping her lips as she stepped back. Only to realize, nothing happened. On one hand, probably best. On the other, she did kind of hope for something to happen so she could react to it. "This looks important. We'll take it back with the note and Key, see if Victoria can use her magic to learn anything about it." Kathryn said confidently like she was the expert in the room, who knew 100% what she was doing. Taking a brief walk around the study too find something secure enough to hold the gem, Kathryn sealed it tight, and sealed it again in a pouch on her belts. "Unless you see something else of note here, I think we should check out the coach house, see about your grandfather's study there." Kathryn said proud of the work she had stumbled into. Only to turn and see the mess she made. It was leagues worse than she thought. "I'll uh... I'll take care of that as soon as I can, don't ask the staff to work on it." Kathryn said a bit ashamed of the mess.

BlackBerry had been right to assume the rumour mill had already been working hard even in such a short time. He grimaced, almost winced when the conversation drifted towards the events of last night. Somewhat surprised by Jons chipper and conversational mood, having half expected the man to be tired after the festivities that evening; if he recalled Jon had been a big fan of the drinks on offer. BlackBerry enviously tried to recall the taste of the wine himself.

"Yes you are quite correct; Young Lizbeth is to be staying with us for a time. I would wager the young Squire-In-Training had been asking so as not to waste even a moment of precious daylight for her training." BlackBerry squirmed against the half truth, thinking more that Young Lizbeth had been entrusted with them out of safety rather than the girls own requests. "I have no doubt you have seen also how she wears her armour with such pride as a robin in winter. The pair suggested they would be out this way this morning and so I came to find them."

As the pair continued, the snow rising above their ankles as they descended the hill, he listened and nodded politely as Jon talked about his time there and of Monsieur L'Rose which he sorted neatly into the picture he was building of the man; currently one which any malicious deeds, possibly of bad decisions but made with the best of intentions, certainly without any clear signs of anything overtly evil (like blood sacrifices but the Hidden Warehouse did suggest otherwise).

"Well I suppose I am simply curious about the man." Another half truth burned his tongue. "Do say though if I am overstepping, I understand his recent passing did come as quite a shock."

Even saying that, guilt tugged at BlackBerry's mind like a flag pulled wildly in the wind. 'Ruffian', the word was unfair to Toombes, a victim of something he could never have dreamed of. They were coming up to the stable now. BlackBerry's eyes danced madly trying to follow the thoughts and worries running through his mind. He worried for Jon, for the other workers on the estate, wondering how many if any knew of the possible danger lurking nearby? How many more victims could there be lying hidden beneath the snow? Beneath his cloak his fingers tap, tap, tapped his thumb.

"Well...there is...one or perhaps two other things." The horror of what he was about to say made BlackBerry stop in his tracks. He himself had warned Cecily not to mention the specifics of last night to anyone and yet he was about to tell Jon. BlackBerry felt that he owed the man, felt that if the truth came from someone else then he wouldn't have been able to look Jon in the eye. The man had been a good tutor to him and had likely taken more time than he should have done to make sure BlackBerry got the best knowledge from his work.

There were no good ways to tell someone about a death, even less good ways to inform someone of an 'un-death' of someone they may have known, and worse still to have to do so with another sneeze tickling the back of your nose. "I was able to find Toombes last night. I am so sorry to say that something else found him first and...there was nothing to be done." He kept the specifics hidden thinking 'vague danger panic' would be less disastrous than 'undead danger panic', the former could be written off as monsters or beasts while the latter...

The sneeze arrived to unceremoniously destroy the moment despite BlackBerry's best efforts to stifle it. "Worry not though Jon, I can assure you we shall not allow any further harm to anyone else." He tried to put some bravado into his voice, standing as tall as he could even weighed down by blocked sinus's. "While I do not wish to alarm you, or strictly speaking not wishing to alarm you further, I do urge you to stay on guard until we are certain the danger is dealt with. And if you see or hear anything strange then please do notify myself or one of the others, do not risks either for yourself or anyone else."

“My apologies, I had mistaken you for a follower of Iira. In my defense, that was a very good joke and timing.” Kosara gave him a happy smile in return after his grand reveal that he was not in fact one of the priests here. Hey cut her some slack, the only temples she had been back home was the one to Sune even if she herself was more of a party girl. It’s just that the temple of Sune was the closest one to her home and she’d visit occasionally when her sisters or grandfather( not grandpa).” That’s alright, thank you for informing me. I guess it was a slim hope, the L’Roses informed me it was likely the case, but I had to check.” She reassured him that it wasn’t a bad thing per say. Her eyes followed the retreating supplicants to from the temple. Sadly them leaving meant they weren’t likely clergy even non magical ones here. Sad really, still it was a beautiful temple in it’s own right.

“Nobody is blaming you for it. It was a good joke, delivered marvelously well too! It’s just that the timing sadly didn’t work out.” She reassured him with an innocent smile.” Ohh that is quite the good idea actually! Thank you for it! Then next I will go check with the Townhall and see if they can help.” She nodded with reaffirmed resolution given the new information. She hadn’t thought of it so far, so that was indeed helpful!” That’s probably not a good idea, look you said it yourself, you are the guy with the broom, right? Besides it would mean involving you further in this and that not something I want to do. What I told you is likely to already be spoken of around, it’s not a secret.” She informed him, making a thinking face.” Still better not spread it undue, least people panic. Panic is a scary thing, yes. Since I’m heading to the Townhall next, people of authority will be informed if they aren’t already.” She nodded to herself.

“Look, I’m not going to say it with certainty that it’s best to stay or to leave. The winter’s harsh and I’m not sure how safe or dangerous it is to travel in the weather. Is it even possible to traverse the roads to get anywhere? ” Kosara told him with a shrug.” Look, don’t panic. Nothing has happened so far and the event was clearly aimed at the gathering at the L’Rose estate. It was closer to a reminder or a warning, so Southmoor should be fine for the time being. Just try to not cause panic, we’ve got people already working on the issue. I’m not alone here, alright? My friends are all working on making sure nothing too bad happens.” She tried to be as reassuring as possible. “ You know what, why don’t we give our prayers to the gods now? Maybe they will answer in some capacity?” She suggested as she walked over to the altars.

“Let’s see...” She mused and reached into her bag, pulling her coin pouch and counting 10 silver coins that she put in the donation box and taking enough candles for every altar, then proceeding to put and light a candle at each. Hey she was fighting probably lich here! Maybe somebody would send help! Or at least a revelation… or Lathander will make the sun show… or they will have luck? Who knows, she just hopes it all works out for the people of this place. She was an adventurer, her life was dangerous by choice, these people haven’t made the same choice. She put her hands together and closed her eyes.

‘Dear gods of many and all dominions and subjects, I hope the people here survive through the likely presence of a necromancer or a lich in the area without major dangers or killings. We already had an encounter with an undead minion that was freshly risen… I fear more may follow as we seem to have involved ourselves in whatever is happening.’ She preyed with closed eyes and focus like her patron has taught her.’ We are in Southmoor, there’s no clerics to cast divine magic present… if it’s a lich or necromancer they will take advantage… especially in winter with the weather bad and the roads hardly traversable, making escape difficult if the need arises. I will fight to the last breath to help people, but many here haven't chosen such life. We would appreciate any aid that could be given please? Thank you for listening to me.’ She finished her prayer, arms pulling apart in resting position as she opened her eyes.

“To the Townhall next!” She proclaimed merrily!

Weather: The sky would be best described as "mostly cloudy", as the general cover of its previous overcast nature has been worn through by sunlight; point of fact one inclining their head upward would see a hint of blue now and again. The wind picks up slightly, bringing with it the damp feel of less frigid air. Still cold, just slightly less so with the advancing day.

Time: The morning is progressing in the manner that mornings usually do. If one here a Halfling, they might be thinking about Second Breakfast about now.

Ambience: The snow begins to settle ever so slightly as the temperature ticks up a degree or two. Not enough to make a great difference in the landscape, and in fact may threaten additional difficulties when the sun sets again, but noticeable if one tries to. People moving about, what few of them are, stick to main paths out of safety as hollows are filled with the frozen white stuff and drifts make some areas hazardous. Sledding makes for a viable diversion, if one trusts the stopping point.

The nearby town of Southmoor has taken on a more sleepy quality, as the basest amount of business that one may have in the morning was hustled through in hopes of returning to the warmth and comforts of home. This being the morning after the first blizzard of the season, there is a general preference toward hunkering down and reserving one's self. For the most part. People with essential community jobs or merely those wishing to keep up their occupations continue to do so, as indicated by the occasional sounds of tools a'tooling - but behind the comfort of enclosed spaces and shuttered windows. Hearth fires continue to vent smoke in orderly lines coming from residences, primarily.

Children around the river, having figured out which parts have the thickest ice, play with more abandon than they probably should upon the slippery surface. From somewhere downstream, one might hear the distant utterance of, "G'Morning! Nice day for fishin', ain't it? Huah huh!"



The wagon creaked along the snowy pathway en route to Southmoor, clunkily soldiering down the main thoroughfare from the Rose River Vineyard laden with a single, primary piece of cargo. It was a crate, fairly large as crates go, originally holding tools or the like useful to the continuing business of winemaking and/or the care of its inhabitants, but now carrying the much more distasteful cargo of Human bones and skin. The corpse was defiled in such a way as to make it a horror for friends or family of the departed to witness it; to be frank the only way to have made a clear identification was by the extensive tattoos upon it. This was the latest Master of Harvest, Toombes, or what was left of him. Nevertheless, the body required a glimpse before it was taken away, just to be sure.

A few steps led up to this:

At the point of time that the Coach House was bereft of adventurers, having gone off to their own devices, Urmdrus unfolded a letter signed Cecily L'Rose. The instructions were simple - transport the remains of Monsieur Toombes to his family in Southmoor - plus a few tiny bits of nuance which he likely would not be adept at passing along, seeing as his grasp of the Common tongue was, as it turned out, without much in the way of nuance. her refolded the scrap of paper and tucked it away in a pocket, then roused his companion to carry out the appointed task. "They are gone, Daxos." he spoke in native but accented Dwarfish. "Let's get this done. I require your help moving a crate." Urmdrus was a grey-skinned Dwarf of slimmer build but knotted with cords of lean muscle. Bald yet bearded, with rough, calloused hands and an array of thick-lined, black tattoos across one side of his face. He dressed simply, in something akin to utilitarian coveralls and a work apron of canvas and brown leather. Tools of various types were found about his person, most notably two decently sized hammers on either hip and, thanks to the danger about, a rather large one across his back as if he was preparing for a battle. The two of them were in a workshop which was part forge, part carpenter's shop, and generally a place where many a craft could be practiced. There was an unsettling half-barrel in one corner that was covered with a crude square of oiled canvas, about which the Dwarf mentioned, "I am aging urine here. If you have to piss, make sure it finds its way into the barrel. You don't want be in here when I boil it down. Trust me." Urmdrus has a number of wise pieces of information like this, be they the unapologetic and blunt statements of a fellow who didn't care if he impressed anyone.

Recovering the corpse was the straightforward job of entering the Coach House's courtyard storage area, prying off the lid, and hammering it back together, followed by lifting with one's knees to place it on the back of Urmdrus's personal conveyance; a tool wagon pulled by a single trotter horse. "Don't go in the main rooms right now. The Half-Elf has a ...dead pig... and I don't know where it is. Could make trouble we don't need. Let us just get Toombes and leave."

And so, as the wagon creaked along the afore mentioned snowy path, it pulled into the town of Southmoor with two Dwarves, a selection of tools and materials, and a box containing most of a Human corpse. Maybe half, give or take. "When we get back to the Vineyard, Daxos, I need you to ingratiate yourself to the Adventurers there. I have spoken with Madame Cecily, the proprietor of the Vineyard, and while she consents to your presence as my learner there is concern for safety. I believe you are safer under a roof with them. Continue to assist me as needed, but stay with them if you can. Also, I have evening trainings with the Heiress, Lizbeth, if you see her poking around the workshop. Let her be if you can. She has recently lost family. Now, help me offload this box. I will try to be diplomatic with the family."

There was much in the way of wailing and pulling of hair, some very short minutes later. The sounds of realized horror and grief were such that it brought neighbors out of houses and into the streets, all with the same questions collectively coloring their expressions. Urmdrus washed his hands of the situation as soon as it was over, intoning, "I told them to keep it closed."

Thusly, we have Daxos Ironbow making his introductory appearance into Avonshire.

At The Healer's House - Victoria spoke her question to the elder Human, to attempted to temper annoyance with understanding. "You are supposed to be the expert here. There's even reference books in your knapsack. You can at least rule out a few things with what you know already. Put what you're doing down for a minute and stop thinking like a Bard. Take the knowledge you have and see what fits." Annick slipped into the other room for a moment and came back with more tea. This might have made the third cup for them both, but from the look of things they needed to be as sharp as they could for a moment. Maybe a couple moments. "A living Necromancer wouldn't be around this long in one place without dying of old age. Unless this was a Dwarf or Elf, and the Alhazred didn't deal with them much, let alone make one a Prince. This creature is intelligent. If it already has an army at its disposal and hasn't done something with it, this means either that it cannot, has chosen not to for some reason, or a mix of both. If it cannot, then it probably isn't a full Lich or similar. If it has chosen not to then there is something it wants or needs. If it is both, then it is waiting for something it needs." The Healer sipped her tea and insisted that Victoria do the same. "My experience with Undead back in the War? They've got patience, the kind that you and I do not. Drink your tea, look into your books, and we can bat ideas back and forth. You might already know more than you know."

At The Study - Lizbeth looked at the sarcophagus sized box with wonder and apprehension until the lid was removed, and then with puzzlement. She looked like she was going to make comment or lend a hand several times, but ultimately held her tongue as Kathryn began to dig into the contents of the box. The loose dirt was easy to move, and held a good amount of shards of worked stone and some bits that she was almost certain were bone, but identifying them precisely was difficult with all of the movement going around. While the digging persisted, the young lady walked back to the glass doored cabinet where she had found the curved, shortish sword she now carried and poked around a bit now that she had more time. There were drawers underneath the glass which she carefully opened, to reveal what appeared to be items of cloth and some coins. Older, foreign coins, from the look of them, and decently preserved articles of clothing wrapped in other lengths of silver-charcoal fabric. The whole cabinet looked like it contained souvenirs, or preserved sociological pieces of interest. A damaged light helmet was here as well, which Lizbeth picked up and inspected, but set back eventually. her hands went to the wide circlet of refined Ankheg chitin made to resemble grape leaves, a gift from Urmdrus, and wondered how it might stack up as a protective device. The older Dwarf did nothing without purpose.

The Wine Heiress turned her head back in Kathryn's direction when the agricultural question was spoken. "Why yes, Lady Kathryn. I was raised with agriculture. Unless you pack it yourself, dirt stays loose under an open sky until the next time it rains, and then the sun dries it out. It stays loose a whole lot longer if it's under something... but I'm not sure how long inside of a sealed box, if I'm being honest, madame."

The moment that the uncut, blackish green crystal flashed under the firelight of the room, Lizbeth's eyes were drawn to it. She stopped what she was doing to focus attention to the oddly beautiful item and the dim glow it produced, its light reflecting in her eyes for only a blink of time. Within that blink came a sweeping change over the girl, however, with whitened eyes and sunken features, a darkness passing over her even as her skin seemed to pale. A fleeting, ephemeral visage of death came and left in the time it took to snap one's fingers, silent and cold as winter dusk. Lizbeth herself seemed fully unaffected past this, however, leading one to possibly question if this was a mere trick of the light and an uneasy mind. The girl smiled at the idea that they had found a clue, remarking, "Great idea, Kat!" to the thought of bringing it back to show the others. In the same breath, she promised not to tell the staff about the mess. The cloth she kept for herself, determined to take a closer look at everything later. Who knew? Maybe there was something to this, as well. Or maybe she would just claim some of her inheritance early. The fabric looked expensive.

At The Stables - Jon's face was grim as he took in the news. "I had heard something had happened. That's a shame about Mr. Toombes. He was a good lad. Worked hard. Make folks laugh. I'm still not sure where he got his tattoos done." While openly weeping wasn't his way, Jon did look distraught. He had already spoken of rumors about the Estate House, but judging from his reaction, the truth, or at least full truth, hadn't been offered up in any of them. But he still had a job to do, which in his case meant ripping open a sack of oats and supplementing the animal's feed with them. He kept quiet for a long while as he poured an estimated emount into feeding troughs and feed bags, then added in a pinch of salt and the bulk feed. Solid shakes and tussles of the containers later and he looked to be about done, minus some cleanup. "I hear you, I do. Not wishing to alarm me. I tell you, letting me know that Toombes is dead and that whatever's happening is still happening is kind of alarming. Maybe that should take a priority, y'know? Yeah, I'll let you know about stuff if anything else weird happens, but I've got me a question first - you asked for information on Monsieur L'Rose; Arnaud, I mean. The way you asked it makes me think it's related to that 'alarming' stuff. You got something you need to tell me?"

Back At Southmoor - "No, no, not TownHALL, that's TownSHIP," hastily corrected Thad, his broom swinging back and forth with his words like it was trying to emote for him, as if the growing confusion and anxiety on his face wasn't doing a good enough job for him in the first place. He seemed to grow slightly more animated as each moment passed; a side effect of being in the presence of the wily Tiefling lady, it seemed. "The Avonshire Township, that is to say. I mean, I suppose we do have a town hall, so to speak, but it's more of a meeting place for town events and, and... like, presenting births or marriages, and the like. Messengers leave stuff there; mail and the like. If we had a regular Constable, they'd be there. Get a shoe shine there for a copper too, if the boy's around, but..." The middle-aged fellow looked highly out of his depth here, grasping at straws of being helpful while trying hard not to spontaneously combust. "I mean, we might have something like records, but it's like, well, like births and such."

This didn't stop the flustered broomguy from assisting Kosara with her candles, setting things up for her or putting flame to wick, though it seemed a little like overkill for a simple session of prayer. Still, ten silver Argents would go a long way toward upkeep of the shrines and maybe put a little away for nonperishable food stores, so long as folks weren't too picky in leaner times. Such was the nature of the average neutral to good-aligned place of worship in one form or another.

The prayers went with the speed and ease of the person praying, as deity supplications are wont to do. After which there wasn't any grand sign of divine action, though one way or may not read the flickering of candles as something taking notice, or conversely a ruffle of air from someone giving a quiet sigh or merely passing in a direction nearby. As it was, with the other two petitioners leaving, it had come down to just Kosara and the caretaker assigned to the Temple. Thad still had his concerns, but appeared to be fully willing to assist as he was able. In his own way, quite possibly shocked and concerned not to.

The snow muffled the sound of the wagon wheels as it rolled into Southmoor. Daxos hopped down onto the packed, icy street, his boots crunching against the frost. He gave Urmdrus a curt nod, tugging his cloak tighter around his shoulders.

“Aye… thanks fer carryin’ me this far,” he muttered, his voice low but firm. “I’ll be takin’ it from here. Ye’ve done more’n enough.”

The grey-skinned dwarf gave a grunt, already unhooking the horse from its harness, more focused on his tools than goodbyes. That suited Daxos fine. Sentiment wasn’t something he could afford these days. With a last glance at the wagon, he turned toward the township center, boots carrying him away from the grieving household and into the uncertain streets of Southmoor.

Each step seemed heavier than it should’ve been. The weight wasn’t in the snow or the travel—it was in memory. The botched job. The chase through alleys, shadows splitting with torchlight. The echo of armored boots behind him. The sting of knowing that, once again, he was running, leaving behind the wreckage of trust and coin unpaid. Consequences had a way of catching up. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon. Hiding in some backwater vineyard, far from the stone halls and teeming cities where real gold was made, wasn’t what he had once imagined for himself. But survival didn’t ask for dignity.

He was so wrapped in his thoughts that he almost didn’t notice her at first. She stood out, though, like a shard of sunlight against the frost. A tiefling woman—bronze-toned skin, four elegant white horns shaded with blue at the tips, her hair braided down her back in a shining rope of white. Her clothes were strange, flowing and cut in ways more suited for dancing than trudging through snow, veils layered in shades of blue that moved with the breeze. Jewelry glittered faintly where the winter light caught it, and at her side hung a scimitar, the weapon looking as much a part of her as her confident posture.

Daxos slowed, recalling Urmdrus’ words. Get close to the adventurers. Safer under a roof with them. He didn’t know her name, but she fit the description well enough—too strange, too assured to be anything but one of the sellswords the Vineyard housed.

He stepped toward her, careful not to appear desperate, though he felt the weight of it pressing against his ribs.

“Ye look like ye ken yer way better’n I dae,” he said with a hint of dry humor curling his words. “I’m new tae these parts, tryin’ tae find me way tae the Vineyard. Got work waitin’ fer me there—or so I’ve been telt.”

Victoria looked to her mentor and the sudden change of task which was set before her. As she recalled, Annick wanted her to show up for her duties, with a full blown undead uprising insufficient as an excuse to miss out on her medical training. Now here she was, taking in the order to put down her anatomical writings and look to her own, conventionally less savory books for guidance under the roof of a lady who was once trained to eviscerate people like her. But as annoyed as she might have been, the Medician (controlling as she was) had a point. "I lent my copy of The White Book to ...a friend... but that was mostly philosophy, doctrine, and funerary rites. I do have a copy of The Lucky Ghost in my knapsack, however." Victoria looked into this woman's eyes, wondering what might be going through her mind as she was, more or less, someone who would have been considered Annick's enemy, now perusing forbidden teachings in her own home. Than again, perhaps the mere pursuit of knowledge was okay. Know Thy Enemy, and all that.

Surgical texts put away, Victoria brought her knapsack into the room and set it upon the table. The two women were soon joined by the younger Annabelle, who (somewhat annoyingly) kept looking over her shoulder at the book in question. "Probably not a Lich," she repeated back Annick's sentiment from earlier. This was said with a touch of relief. There was no way that she was capable of taking on something like that. But it made sense. Too much sense. Pages turned. She consulted with Medician Floquet every so often, tryign to narrow down the possibilities present. If the big villain of the day was, in fact, Undead, then it was intelligent and had control over other, lesser forms of Undead. It had other magical abilities past this, judging from what was witnessed thusfar. So, some magical ability and Undead command. "Vampire, maybe?" she mused aloud. It might fit. But there would be other kinds of victims of a specific nature. Probably not.

The Bard sighed, going through what might be considered a "usual suspect", bantering back and forth with her mentor and her mentor's daughter, and getting nowhere. So Victoria changed up her approach and instead looked at entries which fit categories they they had personally witnessed at the Vineyard. "Toombes... was basically just an animated skeleton. They did things to his corpse to invoke horror in whomever saw it, but in essence it was just a skeleton. Maybe animated by something capable of making base thralls more powerful. The diplomatic envoy were technically just zombies, as far as I can tell, treated like puppets and destroyed as soon as they were no longer useful. Maybe this thing isn't an epic force of magic. Maybe it's just... in the right place at the right time. Hmm..."

A semi-eureka moment hit Victoria. "Now then, there are a few types of animated dead which can retain their intelligence, and sometimes their spellcasting ability. If someone botched an attempt at becoming a Lich or a Spectre, for example. Or if a Raise Dead spell didn't quite take properly. Or if a sufficiently powerful necromancer was buried in what became defiled ground, or a wild magic area..." A cold shiver went up Victoria's spine which had nothing to do with the weather. "Madame Floquet, may I please be excused today. I need to check something."

She was already pulling her pack on and raising her hood over her fiery hair before she got approval from Annick, and opening her ritual book to summon up a deathly fast Phantom Steed. She needed to get back to the Vineyard, and quickly. The moment she stepped out of the building, her great corvid Familiar let out a piercing CAW as it manifested above its mistress, circled once, and flew ahead.

The silence was always the worst part.

"Truly, I am sorry Jon." As last night, the words simply weren't enough against the shock and grief Jon must be going through.

At that moment BlackBerry instead focused on what he could do to help Jon, and lent a hand pouring out the feed and bulk to the horses. But he was aware of how little time he might actually have especially given that Jon had not seen either Kathryn or Lizbeth that morning. Worry tied his stomach into nervous knots. His cruel imagination happily provided visions of ghastly magics leaping from the shadows of a nefariously decorated study.

The rattle and bang of containers made BlackBerry jump, shaking the offending images from his skull, only to spin around and see Jon wrestling a large box but otherwise unharmed. He let out a snotty sigh of relief. BlackBerry came back to Jon to help put away everything and apologise again for not being able to stay longer to help clean up.

"On that note then I must be off. But what I can do for you now is assure you, Jon, that myself and the others; *The Ones Who Answered*, are already working fiercely to resolve the matter." BlackBerry responded to Jons worries as best he could, again tried to bring some bravado and confidence into his voice to lay those worries to rest. "And to make sure you are all safe and well. It is simply the least can do after we were welcomed here."

Jons final point however, caught BlackBerry off guard by the door and he silently cursed his short shortsightedness. The Letter, the Guests, Young Lizbeths strange turns, all of it, it all clawed at the back of his throat begging to be released. He looked out upon the land and the sun struggling to move into the sky to warm the land in the same way BlackBerry's own thoughts struggled to organise themselves into what to say. He lay his hand upon the door frame and in that bracing chill his fingers began tap, tap, tapping.

"No. Nothing at all. " Blackberry lied then pried his fingers off the door frame. He tried to smile, reassuringly, believably through the shame washing over him. "So I shall be off now Jon. Things to do and all that as you well may already have guessed, spoken of even. Ah, I shall get of your hair also. Good day!" He swiftly turned on his heel and walked in measured and controlled steps away from the stable trying to get away from the guilt settling on his shoulders.

BlackBerry crunched his way back down the path, back towards the Estate House, with his eyes resolutely locked on where he was placing his feet next. As he was running around in his mind after himself, (trying to reassure himself that telling Jon his employer had made a deal with an undead patron would have been the absolute choice) he then became away of the sound of heavy footsteps crunching rapidly through the snow and getting louder.

"Ah!" BlackBerry cried out seeing Lady Kathryn jogging towards him with Young Lizbeth perched on her shoulder. "There you both ar-ah!" The rest of the sentence was left behind by Lady Kathryn grabbing BlackBerry and hooking him under her arm without even the good graces to slow down. "Lady Kathryn! Is all-oof-what ar-good gracious-Could you at least pretend I weigh anything?"

One word was on Kathryn mind when she finished digging through the potential grave. Ew. She had issues already with touching dead people. Issues with looting the dead. This was... a necessary compromise. And by the gods was it something that she struggled to handle. Over the last few months she had gotten far better about p0hysical contact with other people. At least to a limited degree. But the gem seemed to be important. SO hopefully it was worth it. Hopefully... What concerned Kathryn was how fixated Lizbeth was on this rather strange rock. Though it glowed slightly, it really seemed to shine on Lizbeth the way she looked at it. Kathryn worried this may be tied into what Cecily had told her the night before. Was this a placebo effect? What Kathryn looking for things that were wrong that just were not there? She was revealed when she finally found somewhere to put it away. In an attempt to snap herself out of it, and to maybe get some sort of different reaction from Lizbeth, Kathryn spoke up. "I don't suppose by some chance you know anything about this? It's strange none the less." Kathryn said trying her best to hold a warm smile.

Lizbeth had taken a moment to explore more of the office, and after Kathryn had bagged up the gem she walked over to the glass cabinet the would be squire was exploring. "Find anything interesting?" Kathryn asked trying to lighten the mood before deciding to join in. Hoping to see if there was anything left worth noting before she decided to call it. She wanted to see what was hidden in the Coach house. She needed to see what was there. To her surprise, she did find something. Partially hidden underneath the cabinet. "Yippy Kai Aye. What have we got here?" Kathryn mused looking over what was easy to determine as a map of the area, with plans for expansion. But there was more. Wondering if maybe ol' grand dad knew something, Kathryn attempted to trace the map to see if the hidden brewery was there, and to her surprise, it was. So not as long and forgotten as once thought. Someone knew. "Hey Lizbeth, this seems to be a map of the area, can I get your help seeing if anything stands out as off? Out of place?" Kathryn asked, kneeling down so the two of them could see the map and look it over. But cartography wasn't a strong suit for the half giant. Not that she was bad at it, she could read a map as well as anybody, but she was still not an expert. Despite their efforts, they were unable to find much of note. "We'll show this to the others too. See what we can find. Then, we shall get things sorted."

"Let's get going. I want some answers, and I think it would do us both some good if we got them." Kathryn said confidently before striding off to leave the estate house. Before they got too far Kathryn spoke up again. "We're getting into a lot of things Lizbeth, if at any point you feel we are overstepping, or you need me to back off, speak up. This is your home and memories we're digging through, and I hold a lot of respect for you. Though I want to figure out what is going on, I want to minimize any harm or pain along the way should it come to ends." Kathryn said before they got outside. Then, Kathryn was reminded of the rather deep snow again. Ah, just like home. Enough snow that tunnels would have to be dug between buildings. Some towns and larger castles would have underground tunnels that made winter travel easier, and doubled as storage during parts of the year. Good times. "If we want to make good time, I may have to carry you again." Kathryn said. And getting no resistance, she lifted her squire onto her shoulders and strutted through the snow doing her best to not trip herself. A task not too hard when one was over 7 foot tall in full kit with boots, helm, and everything else. 4 feet of snow? Trivial.

Passing the stables, Kathryn saw BB just leaving, seeming prepared to move on to his next task. "Ah, perfect. We could use more hands." To make Lizbeth feel less embarrassed about having to be carried through the deep snow, and because it was a bit funny, Kathryn lifted BB up and hoisted him under her arm as if he were some sort of spare bag to be set aside once she reached her destination. "Got a lot to share, but we gotta get inside first." At the comment of pretending to weigh anything, Kathryn simply chuckled, gave BB a good toss up to make it easier to carry him and then gave the fakest complaining a woman could muster. "Oh, Blackberry, you're so heavy. I don't think I can go on, I may be forced to leave you behind! Please oh please forgive me." She uttered in her best damsel in distress tone. Before picking up the pace, returning to the coach house, and dropping BB on his feet as easy as if she was setting up a folding chair. "Now off to bacon storage."

Kosara’s happy march halted at the first step when the man interrupted her groove and corrected her on the destination’s designation. Her leg halted in the air, almost comically before she carefully stepped on the ground and turned to him.” It’s a SHIP?” She blinked at him. Her limited exposure to the local language patterns and the fact she essentially grew up somewhat sheltered in the far south in a desert for the most part striking once again. She blinked at him, imaging a village central house that looks like a ship or maybe it is a ship that they do all their administrative tasks in. Why use a SHIP though. She tried to recall if there was a river crossing Southmoor, but then halted.

“Ah...” Yes maybe this was one of those language context specifics that people out here used. Like Kathrin’s ‘mate’ thing she had learned during their initial meeting. Sure enough the man’s words after confirmed her realization. “ That’s kind of unfortunate.” Kosara pouted cutely at the new revelations that she couldn’t raid a repository of records for truths and answers, all the stories of adventure had lied to her! Then something clicked in her. Birth records and maybe death records too if deaths were being recorded too. They were dealing with somebody who dealt with death and potentially more… there was information to be gleamed there, she suspected.” Plan remains unchanged! Of to the townHALL!” She proclaimed, striking a heroic pose, pointing towards to an unspecified random direction for a bit, before her tanned cheeks blushed a bit and she looked at her unexpected companion Thad.” Would you mind if you point me the way to the townhall? I can guess somewhat, but it’s cold outside and I don’t want to wander randomly.” She asked, hoping for help with it.

Stepping outside back into the cold air, Kosara took a deep breath, feeling the cold air fill her lungs as she did so. It was a refreshing and somewhat unpleasant experience, especially for a desert dweller like herself. Ohh it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle, but it wasn’t the most pleasant of sensations. Suddenly her attention was pulled by a voice speaking in an accent she couldn’t quite place. She turned and looked at the hooded dwarf that had an adventurous look, but as he spoke, she could only blink at him because while she could kind of understand he was speaking in language she knew, she couldn’t quite make what every word of his meant.

“Hello!” Kosara greeted in the end and offered hand for a hand shake, having quickly decided to try to infer his speech from the words she could understand, but in the meantime she used a greeting as a means to introduce herself and get a bit more time for the whole thinking thing.’ Alright, something, something, way, vineyard, work waiting there… aha! He wants to go to the Vineyard and either figured an adventurer will know a way or maybe somebody told him to look for adventurers… since I’m pretty sure we are the only ones in Southmoor and we do base off the Vineyard!’ She concluded.” What a coincidence! Me and my friends are spending the winter in the Vineyard! Will be happy to show you the way, but I’m currently on a grand quest to visit the TownHALL!” She stated happily with a grin, intonation underlining the hall part of the word. Felt important.” If you want, you could join me and when I’m heading back I could lead you there!” She offered.

“My name is Kosara. What might be yours?” She introduced herself with a bit of flourish and a happy innocent grin on her face.

Weather: Still mostly cloudy, with the distant sun showing one in a while to remind us that it yet lives, behind its white-grey bulwark. Wind carries hints of dampness, briefly cutting through the stiller, after-blizzard atmosphere. Every so often, bits of pale blue sky stand sharply against the color of dreary clouds. The continuing morning gives a slight increase to the overall temperature, and possibility of marginal snowmelt in the future.

Time: It is late morning, featuring a full sunrise for some time now.

Ambience: A slight glistening forms across the tops of snow drifts and the broader areas of cover. It lends a sort of quiet beauty to the landscape, something which gives the hint of sparkle to contradict the previous matte white of the snow. People, for the most part, still keep indoors, yet a few more are stirring after the conditions of their internal agreements manifest; promises of taking a later start on account of the uncomfortable weather the night before. Many children (and a few adults) can be seen upon an untouched hill near the river, having abandoned their studies and labors for the day, prepare to rapidly descend upon makeshift sleds. More kids have tested the strength of the ice over the river and, with mild caution, commit to noisy play there.

Southmoor as a whole is still fairly quiet, but that is slowly altering to accommodate the fresher influx of what few people have decided to get about their day. The town is by no means busy, not even for a town of this smaller size. But it has picked up a tic. Windows are shuttered, doors only open for as long as it takes to enter or egress. Occasional sounds of professions being practiced filter out into the thoroughfares of Southmoor, taps of tools and shifting of goods, as thin lines of smoke reach skyward from individual chimneys across the town.



Having brought both the corpse and the newest guest of the vineyard ferried down to Southmoor from his humble Estate abode, Urmdrus took channeled his next piece of motivation toward hauling himself and his wagon back home, from whence he frigging came. There was a bottle of something unsavory and flammable in a box back in his workshop. While it fell neatly under his "emergency booze" stash, it was either that or try to finagle his way into the Coach House and ask for more of that brandy. Maybe he overstepped that way. In any case, the older Dwarf noticed that his younger associate was off to his own devices before returning to the Rose River Vineyard, and he wasn't going to wait around for it. It was too cold for his liking, anyway. The trotter horse attached to his tool wagon turned clumsily around and moved in as straight a line as Urmdrus could guide it, carrying everyone and everything therein back up the road from Southmoor to the estate.

Thad looked like he really wanted to forget the last few minutes of his life and slink away, back to his usual duties of sweeping floors and polishing candle wax off of individual shrines. But he did offer help and, to her credit, the Tiefling lady wasn't causing any actual problems. Even bought out a decent amount of candles. So giving a little help didn't seem like too bad of an idea, so long as he might divest himself from the situation when his role as guide/assistant came to a close. Lucky for him, when asked to assist further, Thad just needed to point out the Town Hall. This was easy enough; it was the most prominent building in town and, even more lucky for him, it could be spotted from the front of the Temple. As such, Thad capped off Kosara's visit with an overly polite showing of her to the door, indicating the direction that she needed to go with as few words as possible (while still being unfailingly nice), and quietly closing himself back in the Temple.



The Town Hall stood slightly aside from the rest of the buildings of Southmoor, proper, allowing one to fully walk it if necessary. It was easy to pick out from a distance if one has an unobstructed line, as it was (from the outside) probably the only formalish looking building in the area. Large, wooden double doors led to the inside from the front, and upon entering, one could see that the majority of the space was open, with a long desk toward the opposite side and a series of chairs in even rows in the center. This building seemed to handle the vast majority of administrative activities for the town and villages beyond; a representative of the constabulary from Darenby might be found here to act as impromptu constabulary (all one of them), mail or messenger services, basic record keeping, title deeds stored, judicial decisions, as well as the usual Town Hall activities of being a meeting place for locals on official business. One lady of indeterminate years sat behind the desk, penning her signature on something or another which looked official, and another fellow wearing the colors of the national military, even if it was not quite the full uniform of a soldier. He hefted a decently constructed mace and stood next to a standard issue halberd which rested against the wall. Beneath his tabard, the muffled clink of mail armor might be heard as he moves about.

The lady behind the desk notices the two outsiders enter, and with a touch of apprehension utters the mainstay phrase of, "Um, might I help you with something?"

Back at the Vineyard, Jon looked upon Baronfjord with a sense of unease. Yes, he had learned something truly unnerving and sad, which he was trying to deal with in a calm and controlled manner, but something didn't seem quite right about what he said. Nothing that the experienced stablehand could out his finger on, but there was a distinct feeling that something was off. Of course, there wasn't a whole lot of time to figure this out before the Dragonborn was snatched up by a seven foot tall lady in armor with a wine heiress on her shoulders. While not the most dignified method of travel in the snow, it was more or less effective despite its absolute absurdity. Within a relatively short amount of time, the familiar path back to the Coach House was tread. The fact that three people arrived upon two legs was a thought experiment for subsequent generations to ponder.

Within the Coach House, things looked very similar to the state of affairs prior to the group leaving for the morning, the main difference being that the light had grown quite dimmer - lamps were extinguished and the hearth fire had burned down to embers. The former might easily be lit and the latter re-stoked with minimal effort. To one side of the taproom stood a familiar sight; a rather large but strangely emaciated boar, wrapped in burlap, with its tusks exposed but its eyes covered. The scent of woodsmoke is heavy in this room, but there was no smoke present. We may congratulate the diligence of the local chimney sweeps for this feat.

It did take a few minutes for Victoria to bring her Phantom Steed, regardless of the sudden burst of inspiration which caused her to exit the Medician's cottage with the resolute determination that she displayed. She paused for long enough to open her Ritual Book to the appropriate pages and fix the image of her preferred beast of personal conveyance: swift, sure, noble, and just intimidating enough to send the right message of thematic awe in those who saw it. A tall, bone white stallion with oil-black socks and matching mane which floated through the air as if underwater, and eyes which reflected light with a spectral, purple hue. A horse in the most outside sense; a spiritform made into something akin to flesh through magic and directed imagination. Victoria possessed a decent amount of both and was only growing stronger in the use of them with time. Thusly, the steed began to manifest in front of Annick's home, by the will of the purple-clad Bard.

Her Familiar, the wondrous black corvid, gave a croaking caw from up ahead, giving an indication of its presence. Another spirit made to flesh and feathers, linked to the will and desires of its mistress. It alerted Victoria to the presence of something coming up from behind her. Pausing the spellwork for just a moment, she glanced back to see Annick and her daughter Annabelle emerging from their home, the former carrying two books in a leather reinforced sling bag and the latter staying near to the building. The Medician approached and held out the books to Victoria, mentioning something about "...homework. You might as well take it with you and finish when you find an opportunity.". Victoria nodded, not wishing to put too much of a strain on the ritual she was performing but acquiescing to her proposal.

"Do you have to be still to ritual cast magic?" inquired Annabelle, from the house's front deck. It greatly annoyed Victoria - for about two seconds. Then she began to ponder the question. Technically, she didn't read anything about needing to go through the whole rigamarole of symbolic, sympathetic, or circle-drawing procedures aside from what the spell itself might need to cast, and so, the Bard stood a bit straighter and began to walk. She could still feel the slower buildup of power that indicated the spell's continued progress, and so took step after step in the vague direction of the Vineyard. With a broad smile, Victoria turned and gave the younger Floquet a wave. She settled the sling bag about her person along with her knapsack, and started to negotiate the last parts of the spell into place. Her pace quickened as the Phantom Steed began to materialize next to her, coalescing from somber threads of arcane energy at a trot. Without breaking pace, Victoria pulled herself into the saddle and took up the great beast's reins, prompting her steed to a pace which no ordinary horse could hope to match. Despite the need for expedience and the serious nature of their situation, the she found this positively exhilarating. Luckily, the streets of the town of Southmoor were mostly clear.

Those viewing the rush of motion from a side angle might be greeted by a purple blur with fiery hair atop a creature, potentially of myth, zooming by and leaving a wind wake which twirled paper goods in its passing.

Coming through Southmoor proper, Victoria took note of Kosara heading toward whatever piece of investigation has piqued her interest. The shorter silhouette with her was not recognized, and while her curiosity might have led her to stop and ask a few questions about her new "friend", Victoria kept the urgency of her present obsession at the mental fore. She did bring her Steed to a quick stop to relate her position to her teammate, however, before she got to wherever she was going. "Kosara! I'm glad I caught you." She reached into a pocket and dug out the oddly shaped Sending Stone, giving it a quick toss to the Tiefling lady. "If you would, please keep hold of this for me. I am returning to the Coach House for..." Her attention went briefly to Daxos, unsure as to what might or might not be safe to discuss around the stranger. "...well, I believe I have figured something out. I may be onto something, at the least. I will see you there later." It was less of a declarative sentence and more a statement showing that she was expected there eventually, as a precursor or gentle warning to the unknown Dwarf fellow at her side. But there was no reason to be overtly rude to the guy; a greeting was the polite thing to do. "And good morning to you, Master Dwarf!" she said with a touch of embellishment, sweeping her hand to one side as she took what amounted to a bow from horseback. "Please excuse my abruptness. There is work to be done and haste is an issue." She smiled as she straightened, taking her reins back up. "By your leave, of course. And Kosara? I await whatever you may find out. Keep yourself safe."

Under arcane command and twitch of the reins, Victoria's Phantom Steed took off like a bolt from a ballista, hammering forward momentum from the ground beneath it. The cry of her raven soaring overhead could be heard as it followed, only to fade from existence mid-flight and reappear at a point ahead of the swiftly egressing Bard.

It was a very short time later that Victoria found herself dismounting within the courtyard of the Coach House, having sped at breakneck pace up the road from Southmoor and ignoring issues that a flesh and blood horse might have to deal with. She didn't think that she would need the use of a speedy ride within the next few minutes, but opted not to dismiss the animal just in case. It would naturally come to a cessation after a little while, anyway. So Victoria strode up to the main door into the taproom and carefully made her way inside. She set her knapsack and borrowed sling bag upon a nearby table, and issued a mental command to her preserved porcine beast of burden, Morty, to approach. Unfailing loyalty coming from the gaunt creature (as it had no say in the matter, itself) brought it closer, long enough for its Mistress to note that nothing seemed to have changed about itself or its surroundings. It returned to its place by the wall, and Victoria called out, "Hello? Is anyone here?" If someone had checked in at the same time she did, they might trade notes. Otherwise, she would know that it was clear to check her new suspicions/hypotheses against the her written works with her gear, now that she had a better idea what to look for.

The snow around the coach house was far more passable than the yard. Granted, that could be she was well above 2 meters tall and had the stepping reach to pass over the worst of it. However, her boots still would sink in the court yard. But with BB in hand (Now dropped to his own two feet) and Lizbeth by her side, she felt confident on saving the day! Her leads however were limited. There was a study hidden somewhere on this lot. And Kathryn was going to find it, and she was going to save the day. The first lead to check, the gem. Taking it out, she gave it a once over. Pulling it out of her bag, out of its own bag, and holding it in her glove, it... did nothing. Shame. But not the end of the world! "There is a hidden study somewhere here. We're going to find it. And get some answers yeah?" She asked now trying to reassure herself too.

The inside had grown dim, made sense really. No one had been present since they left this morning. Even once entering inside, the gem did nothing. Kathryn deciding she wanted her hands free decided to put away the gem before she dropped it, lost it, or needed her hands free in case of an unfortunate situation. She had a guess where a hidden room may be. Only a guess. The building was a lot bigger than the basement, so she figured under the main room somewhere. "Okay... I am going to check the basement, see if I can find a hidden door somewhere. Lizbeth, any ideas where your grandfather may have done his work when he worked here?" Kathryn asked hoping that maybe Lizbeth knew a little bit where there may be a secrete door.

Moving into the basement, Kathryn moved strait for the wall she assumed may be a false wall. She spent a moment leaning against them to see if they would give, then she took a moment trying to look over the details in the wall. It was a rather nicely made wall. But still, no secrete door. Taking her hammer out, she would then spend a moment tapping various points hoping to find either a weak point, or maybe a hidden button that just needed more force. So far? No luck. "Mother Fucker!" Kathryn exclaimed. She knew when it came to the work this party did she was a weak link. Sure, she could move any physical obstical in front of her. Sure in combat her foes with an ounce of intelligence would think twice. And sure, sometimes she could try her luck at feminine charm. So far, that luck hasn't been in her favor. In a rather shameful fit of rage, she swung the hammer back over her shoulder, and had nearly implanted it through the nice stonework, slowing herself last moment to barely tap the wall with comparable force to her investigation moments before. "Gods I have to stop letting this stuff get to me." She sighed out taking a moment to breath and think. When she heard V call out there was some relief. Their resident magic expert could surely assist them right? "Down here Victoria." Kathryn called out trying to hide her shame in losing her temper, and embarrassment from struggling to come through with what she thought was a good lead.

After being deposited back on his feet BlackBerry set to smoothing his robes and straightening his cloak with as much indignation as he could muster with a glob of snot waving from his nose. Any other time BlackBerry may have joined in the fun, but heaving a head full of cold tends to make a person a bit more prickly than usual.

"I take it you have a very good reason for manhandling my person without so much as a 'How do you do?'"

They did, in fact, have a good reason.

"A study?" He repeated while following them into the Coach House. His previous annoyance now completely forgotten. "Why a study? What makes you say that? How many studies does a man need?"

The inside was sadly not as warm as he would have liked, especially on such a bitter day. He followed in Lady Kathryns to the top of the basement stairs where he stood and listened to the hammering sounds coming up from below. There didn't sound to be much success unfortunately.

"We have resided here for several weeks now. Surely if there were a study inside we would have stumbled upon it, no?" BlackBerry called down the stairs before starting to rummage around in the cupboards for candles. He had a feeling they might be at this for some time and if they were to be exploring all corners then he at least would need some light. It hadn't gone unnoticed by BlackBerry that he seemed to be the only person who needed a candle to see at night. "Please correct me if I am wrong, Young Lizbeth, but did your Aunt mention the building had been renovated recently, if I recall correctly it had been shortly before our arrival? Surely if so they would have found something also. Ah! Victoria pleasure to see you back safe and well"

BlackBerry looked between Victoria and the closed taproom door expecting Kosara to have been on her heels, and bouncing in with news from the town. When such a thing didn't happen he turned back to Victoria and then noticed the windswept look about her; red hair had escaped its neat confines and her cheeks looked bitten raw by the cold.

"Is all safe and well? I do not mean to sound rude but you look as if you had come running here on a brisk wind." A note of panic seeped into his voice as he continued. "And where is Kosara? Is she alright?"

The holly friendly party of investigation persuasion was heading towards the townhall, which was different from a townSHIP apparently, beyond the obvious difference of one meaning a room and the other a sailing vessel. Kosara was happy and she was very much up to investigate and poke at everything that might bring tangible clues and interesting possibilities of what might have transpired or what might be currently transpiring in Southmoor, but her current instincts told her it was tied to the Vineyards and the L’Roses. Too many things were happening that were centered around the Vineyard and as V had pointed out even winter seemed weird in the estate also the messege they had gotten so many weird things all centered on the Vineyard… or more specifically the L’Roses.

In any case, the trip to the temple hadn’t been entirely pointless. She had made two new friends! That was a great increase for a visit to a temple! Glorious times indeed! What she didn’t expect was for V to intercept them!” V!” She happily exclaimed and waved at her with the energy of a thousand hyperactive puppies. She spotted something being tossed at her and she pivoted from waving to practically pouncing at the tossed item by sheer instinct.” Ohh, good idea! Also no worries! Investigating a few things myself! Will return to the Couchhouse before dark!… probably.” The last word was mumbled just low enough to be lost in the noise outside.” Have a save trip!” She exclaimed and again began waving, this time a goodbye to the purple clad bardly bad. She then realized she didn't even have the time to introduce her new friend properly. Ohh well, later when they arrive at the estate.

“Welp, back to our destination!” She quipped to the others and began her march slash skipping along.

Getting to the Townhall wasn’t difficult, finding it wasn’t especially hard either. The building looked and felt different from the rest of the village. It was nice, Kosara liked it, but then again the dancer liked most things in general. Such was her way. She skipped inside with an almost hopping steps of expectation.” Yes and hello!” Kosara greeted the woman inside with a bright smile.” I’m Kosara, nice to meet you!” She introduced herself, offering a hand for a handshake like Kathryn had confirmed was apparently done in some parts around here… probably. It didn’t exactly matter, but it felt right. Why? Because feeling somebody’s palm was a good way to at least get a feel for the person…

“I’m, looking for information on the records for the L’Rose family for a few generations back. Things like birth records and death records. I’m friends with Lizbeth and it had come into somewhat relevance and we figured the best way to figure it all out is to check with the Townhall!” Kosara happily exclaimed, leaning on the desk in an subconscious way that if she was dressed in her dancer getup would probably have men very lost in a certain deep ravine. The nice lady was good enough to give back information she asked for. Apparently Mr L’Rose didn’t have birth records in the area… nor did his sons. Which was WEIRD… did the whole family move here? Maybe a possible lead somewhere in there. All the sons’ wives were from the area, again maybe nothing, but maybe a clue. Which brought the fact that there were more than one son apparently. Liz had a birth record and no death record. Things got weirder with Liz’s parents… both died on the same day and it was listed as a disease… yeah right. That was suspicious as all hells. What type of disease killed 2 people at the same day and why didn’t it affect more people.” Hmmmm... yess...” Kosara made a heavily thinking noise as she pulled out her journal and scribbled down some notes.

“Excuse me, since I’ve been more or less stuck in the L’Rose’s Vineyard for the winter till the roads clear properly, I got interested in the place’s history. They told us that Mr L’Rose managed to buy out all the lands and turn it into what it is now. Could it be possible to figure out how the land rights were before that. It seems very interesting.” She asked, eyes shining, mouth smiling, but sadly the desk lady wasn’t especially enthusiastic to go search for old old records of ownership.” Alright, I understand. It was mostly personal curiosity on that topic.” She replied, smile not leaving her face.” Thank you for the help with the first topic! I’m going to summarize it and show it to the Liz later! Might even make a recent family tree!” She had a sudden idea inspiration and began scribbling down in her journal, creating a family tree of the data she had just recovered!