“Aye, pleasure tae make yer acquaintance, lass,” Daxos replied, taking her offered hand with a firm shake, his calloused grip a testament to long, rough work. “Name’s Daxos Ironbow. I’d be much obliged tae tag along wi’ ye. Figure I’ll not get lost that way.”

He gave a short chuckle, the sound low and gravelly. As they began walking toward the township’s center, Daxos listened as Kosara filled the space between their steps with bright words and carefree chatter. She spoke of her “grand quest” to the townhall with a kind of warmth and wonder that felt foreign to him. Her laughter rose above the crunching snow, and for the first time in weeks, Daxos found himself walking beside someone who didn’t make the world feel heavy.

“Ye’ve a strange sort o’ spirit, I’ll give ye that,” he murmured at one point, mostly to himself, though she probably heard. “Folk dinnae talk o’ quests an’ hall visits in the same breath where I’m from.”

The two arrived at the townhall—a squat, timber-framed building with age-weathered walls and a chill that clung to the air. Inside, the scent of parchment and ink filled the room. Behind a broad oak desk sat a woman, spectacles perched on the bridge of her nose.

"Um, might I help you with something?" she asked, her voice as even as her posture.

“Yes and hello!... I’m Kosara, nice to meet you!” the tiefling said cheerfully, her tail flicking slightly as she leaned forward on the counter.

Daxos stood a few paces back, arms crossed, eyeing the exchange. By the Stone, she talks like there’s no danger in the world, he thought, brow furrowed. Her open manner, her disarming smile—it was the complete opposite of the careful, transactional world he was used to.

He listened as Kosara continued, “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!”

Birth an’ death records? In a hamlet like this? Daxos mused silently, shifting his weight. What in the Nine Hells could be so important aboot that? He decided not to question it—Kosara had her reasons, and her world clearly ran on curiosities rather than coin.

When the clerk returned, she carried a small stack of aged ledgers. Daxos joined Kosara at the table, helping sort through them. The entries were neat but strangely recent. None went back more than a century. For a settlement as old as Southmoor, that was... off. He quietly took out a small, battered journal—a recent acquisition for “notes”—and began scribbling in tight dwarvish shorthand. He noted the lack of records before a hundred years, the consistent listing of only human and halfling births and deaths, and the absence of any dwarven, elven, or gnomish names.

After several minutes, Daxos glanced up and addressed the clerk. “Beggin’ yer pardon, miss,” he said, tone mild but measured. “But this seems tae be a bit limited. D’ye happen tae have anythin’ older, or is this all the town’s kept?”

"There are a lot more records, sir. These are just the ones your ladyfriend requested. Why is a stranger interested in all of Southmoor's town history, anyway? And who are you folks, if you don't mind my asking?"

Her words were polite, but the look behind them wasn’t. Daxos caught the edge of suspicion and felt the old instincts twitch to life—she’s hiding something. His first thought was to probe further, to find a way into the restricted stacks and confirm his hunch. But then, reason crept in. If some stranger came poking around the record halls of his old mountain home, asking after generations past, he’d have reacted the same way.

“Ach, fair question, that,” he said smoothly, leaning on the counter. “We’re doin’ a bit o’ genealogical research, ye see. Tryin’ tae piece together some family ties fer a project. Properly thorough work requires full records, so I thought I’d ask.”

The clerk regarded him for a long moment, then nodded curtly.

"...Very well. I’ll see what I can find later. Please don’t disturb the archives without assistance."

When she turned and left to fetch more ledgers, Daxos exhaled slowly, rubbing his beard. Dodged that one. He turned to Kosara, lowering his voice.

“Right, lass. Here’s what I’ve got so far. Records only go back a century or so—odd, considerin’ how old this place looks. An’ only humans an’ halflin’s listed. Nae a mention o’ elves, dwarves, or the like. Somethin’s off aboot that.”

He slid his journal across for her to see, one corner of his mouth curling wryly. “Seems ye’ve dragged me into somethin’ curious after all.”

Weather: Still partly cloudy, though the sun is making its presence more known now as the day continues. Temperatures hover around freezing, which is a touch warmer than a couple hours ago and certainly moreso than the blizzard conditions which covered a surprisingly local amount of land the previous night. One acclimated to the weather will be more or less fine, and even those without cold weather experience will note the preferable change. Wind is more active now, bringing with it stinging, slightly wet air which interacts negatively with exposed skin.

Time: We have moved fully into late morning. The Halfling population will have finished first AND second breakfasts, and thought moves now to luncheon. In any case, it is much closer to noon than to dawn.

Ambience: The Coach House remains dimly lit, the hearth fire in the Taproom having been neglected for a while and the Kitchen's fire down to mere embers which might be roused with time, fuel, and effort. It is otherwise seemingly untouched from the group's mass egress earlier that morning. Upon the bar sits the barrel of extremely fine brandy, its spigot ready to dispense, and whatever remained within the barrel of ale secured from town, also in a state of readiness.

The cellar had only what light one brings with them, and is a somewhat cramped location. Dry goods and semi-perishables rest here in neat rows, spaced evenly as to allow for airflow and resist more unsavory growths upon them. Flour and nuts sit on spacers which keep them off of the ground a few inches, in clean sacks and baskets as needed. There is the scent of decent cheese in here, as the wax coatings never quite fully lock this within, mingling with a very slight, sour note of cured meat. Fruity scents linger as well, represented by airy hanging baskets of apples and pears. The walls are of fitted stone which seem to radiate a constant coolness from the ground around it, as cellars are wont to do. One wall has a series of wooden crates along it, while another bears shelving with tools appropriate to dealing with said crates, as well as portioning, processing, and carrying things to and from the kitchen and pantry areas. Many barrels also reside here, their contents easily guessed based upon the Rose River Vineyard branding seared along their exteriors.

Out and about, the snow glistens with evidence of slight melting and immediate refreezing - as the sun touched the land around and quickly is covered back by cloud cover, the already settled snow becomes slightly more perilous. It also becomes more fun, if the gathering of people near Southmoor sledding down these hills have anything to say about it. Between them and the kids braving the frozen surface of the river, all of this it absolutely fine. The continued cold does keep most people within buildings, even if they are going in to work. Those which are seen outside finish their business quickly and move on; the town is not busy by any means but cannot be called silent, as there is notable, if marginal, foot traffic. Southmoor remains quiet otherwise, at least as quiet as a town might be with a few labors performed within walls and doors.



Kathryn's question to Lizbeth was a decently predictable one to make; logical, and the obvious person to ask it of was naturally Lizbeth. If anyone were to know what the elder Monsieur L'Rose was up to and where he might be doing it, it might be his granddaughter. Unfortunately, all she was able to offer was a confused shrug. "I'm sorry, I just don't know. Grandfather would lock himself away in here and tell us not to bother him." She offered only a somewhat overwhelmed look and said, "I've cleaned the rooms here a bunch of times, but I never saw anything like a Study."

To Baronfjord, Lizbeth had more solid of answers, but about the same amount of help was forthcoming. "We haven'thad any renovations done to the Coach House since... well, I think since the Vineyard property lines expanded." Then, thoughtfully, she followed up, "This wasn't originally part of the Vineyard. Grandfather bought it when I was very little and had some work done to it then."

In Southmoor, the clerk lady behind the desk managed to give her best impression of a rural civil servant who, upon being given only slightly conflicting stories about the nature of these newcomers' business with her, had little to no suspicions about their intentions. Were she honest with herself despite the novelty of a Tiefling and the slightly more common event of a Dwarf (who wasn't Urmdrus) coming to her for information, they really hadn't said or done anything wrong, so she continued as helpfully as she might.

There was a quick glance over to the martial looking fellow with the halberd, however. "Look, I'm willing to help you two in any that's legal, but you need to understand that we're not some far-traveling adventurous types here. Only records I have are from things that happen locally, and even then it doesn't cover everything. I mean, heck, this building is our mail office, town hall, guard post, jail, and seat of commerce. We ain't one of them big cities, like the Township." She gave an exaggerated look of exasperation, and with a faux benevolent look of a penny-store martyr, followed with, "...but I will selflessly try to help you im any way that I'm able, as befits a civil servant of the quiet frontier town of Southmoor."

She almost didn't notice her Dragonborn associate standing at the top of the cellar stairs, behind the bar. When Kathryn answered her from said cellar, and Victoria glanced over in the direction of the sound, only to catch a startle. Exhaling deeply, she raised her hands, palm out as if in surrender, on either side of her face. "I surrender," she said in a half-mocking tone. "Someone needs to put a bell on you." Jokes aside, she attempted a more diplomatic approach. "I apologize, Baronfjord, my thoughts are obviously elsewhere. I just rode in from Southmoor." Admittedly, it wasn't a long way to ride, literally just down the road, but were he to know the speed of travel she had just accomplished he might be impressed.

"I saw Kosara before I left town, actually. She seemed fine. It looked like she made a new friend, as our Kosara does, but I did not inquire anything into it. Dwarven fellow. I left the Sending Stone with her, if she needs to make contact quickly." That said, she continued with a tangent of her previous thought, "I may have figured something out about our 'Prince' but I need to consult my books here, including the one I lent to Lizbeth. I might be onto something." The last sentence came out with a distant quality to her voice, as if she was still in the middle of puzzling something out. She quickly shook her head and snapped out of it.

It was around this time that she realized that she had been keeping Kathryn waiting more than a moment since she announced that they were in the cellar. "I shall be down presently!" she called in melodic tones, though she instead took up her teacup and refilled it with a dram of brandy from the bar. In a manner both classy and not-quite-ladylike, she threw its contents past her lips and let the taste linger with her for a second or two before allowing it passage onward. It was indeed very fine, well-aged brandy - with just a hint of something more mature than mere age. Lovely.

And so it came to pass that Victoria took to the stairs down to the cellar, giving a quick, "Please excuse me," as she passed by. She was pleased to see that Lizbeth was also down there with Kathryn. That would save a trip, as she could get back her book at least temporarily. "Lizbeth, it's good to see you! If you'll allow, I will need my copy of The White Book back, at least for today. I could be onto something and I need it for reference. Please."

Victoria might have exited the room immediately following, as she was a lady on a mission. Unlike many Bards, her mission and role in the party seemed to have evolved primarily into studious research. And while she wondered why and/or how this happened, it was a fact that this particular topic was well within her wheelhouse. Conversely, like many Bards, her attention shifted almost immediately when presented with something shiny. It was related to the topic at hand, intimately so, but it didn't help the stereotype that it was essentially a shiny rock that pulled her away from her task. "Is that..?" she began, almost crouching and flowing over to Kathryn as she held the green-black crystal. Her vision tunneled, voice again becoming distant behind the roar of her thoughts that only she could hear. Gingerly, Victoria reached out and took the shiny rock from Kathryn, her face painted with wonder. Victoria barely noticed when her face began to show the telltale signs that commonly appeared when she tapped into the abilities taught by her Bardic College; a darkening around her eyes and the appearance of black tears streaking artfully down her cheeks. She was able to suppress it with a mote of thought, but the wonder did not leave her features quite as easily. Bright, crystal-blue eyes regarded the item with something akin to shock. "Kathryn, why do you have a chunk of raw, uncut vivianite?"

A pause, as Victoria reflected upon her formal study in Arcana, and she explained, "Vivianite, hmm... Occurs naturally where there is a lot of death and not a lot of air. It also forms where there's a concentration of necrotic energy and time. Necromancers use it in arcane foci or as components in magical items. Some use it like an arcane battery, it's beyond me as to how. Where did you find this?"

Thoughts as to her initial reason for being back at the Coach House came flooding back. Victoria had at least half of an idea and had to follow up on it. "...I have to get to my books... I might be close to something important."

The happenings in the townhall were an expected thing and the various information that they were getting was all probably leading into one big realization somewhere down the line. Small places like this were probably indeed limited in their archives, but it was still curious. There were stuff missing from the overall records of this place.” Mhm, I notice that too. Quite a few mysteries. We are on an adventure!” She told her new jolly friend Daxos too. Her mind lingering on the information that apparently Mr. L’Rose and his sons arrived from nowhere and settled in the area, marrying into local families. While moving a family wasn’t too unusual, but Kosara was seriously wondering exactly WHAT cause him and all his sons to move together to Southmoor to settle? Didn’t any of his sons have lives or wives at their previous locations? The most worrying information however was that Lizbeth’s parents both are registered dying at the same day under the vague cause of ‘disease’. As far as Kosara was aware, yes there were scary diseases out there, but both to kill two people at the same day who may or may not have caught it at the same time? It may be possible, but was certainly weird… maybe they should ask Cecily for clarification on the topic.

The tiefling woman briefly pondered using the sending stone, but it seemed like a rather pointless use of the magical tool, especially since it’s a single use a day type of item as far as she knew. Using it to just tell the others to question Cecily on the topic of Liz’s parents and the extended L’Rose family more was quite the waste of a limited resource. Yes Kosara was capable of using big smarty words too!

She looked at the desk clerk who spoke to them and tilted her head cutely to the side, sending tresses of her unbraided white hair moving. The tiefling girl peered at the girl, big white eyes staring at her, thinking about something, before beaming her one of the patented great Kosara smiles. The childish ones that were very wide and expressive, especially on a grown up adult.” We aren’t looking for any unlawful help! Gramps will have my hide if he ever hears that I went ahead and asked people to break laws to help me! After that Grandpa will give me the judging stare! No, no unlawful things!” She chirped happy.” Well I’m in fact staying with the L’Rose after a certain rat related affairs went down in Avonshire… soo many rats… like SO MANY… There were even huge ones… HUGE!” She recalled, showing a visible shiver.” Cecily and Liz are worried something’s happening at the Vineyard, we are worried that something is happening there too and well stories Liz and Cecily been telling us have some things we figured we need more elaboration on, so I figured – Checking the records for clues! And also because I was curious myself too!” Kosara explained happily, effectively declaring she was investigating this with the knowledge of the family… which she was!

“That said, only other thing I can think of to look is whatever happened to the people who used to own the various lands of the Vineyards, but if that’s not possible, would you know anyone who has been around for a long time and might be willing to answer some questions? I know Madam Medician, but a friend visited her already for lessons on medicine I believe and I wouldn’t want to impose on her after that.” Kosara explained with a smile.

"Indeed, Kosara is one to make friends, and an impression, where ever she may travel." Blackberry let out a relieved laugh and sighed with his hand on his chest. "It does me glad to hear she is well and with some way to get back in contact."

The reveal that Victoria may have found something useful did catch his attention. His eye-ridges rose in interest but then quickly fell when she didn't expand upon it. He let her pass by though without any comment with his attention more focused then on Lizbeths reply.

"Ah. Well then. I stand corrected." He frowned when trying to recall the words from all that time ago when Cicily had welcomed them, and found that Lizbeth was correct and he had momentarily misremembered. Pinching his chin he began to think allowed. "But still, as you too have spent much time in near every nook and cranny without much luck as the rest of us finding another study. I wonder if maybe we should expand our search to the outside?"

Saying this he then looked down at Lizbeth, trying to hide his own worry not only for the situation but also for Lizbeths own well being; having to investigate your own grandfathers background for nefarious deeds couldn't be good for morale.

"Come along, Young Lizbeth." He injected some cheer into his snotty voice. "Let us get the book for Victoria, and then she may explain what it is she has found. After which we may resume our search."

Kathryn realized in her heist to prove she was useful for more than just muscle that she had failed to properly update BB on what was going on. "He mentioned a second study in a note. With a riddle attached to it saying "I do like to make sure our guests have plenty of bacon on hand". I assumed since he used to study in the coach house a fair bit that he must have meant here. And I hoped that with the basement being significantly smaller than the foundation for the rest of the building, that this wall would lead to some sort of secrete room or door. Cellar, storage, made sense at the time. Now I am not so sure." Kathryn sighed, not totally defeated, but definitely disheartened.

The return of Victoria was a nice one. She was a bit more of the skill junky magic user who could probably lend a hand, or figure this thing out if needed. Even with Lizbeth's input, they were beginning to hit dead ends. That was when Victoria noticed the gem Kathryn had pulled out in an attempt to convince the secrete door Kathryn was totally sure was real to reveal itself. Kathryn felt like a wild animal being stalked by some creature looking to have its way with her. "Vivianite?" Kathryn asked in confusion after V took the stone and examined it. "It was... in the Sarcophagus in the study. We were looking for clues and we found it." The implications of what Victoria said combined with what they knew so far, and where Kathryn found it, left the tall woman rather... unsettled. All Kathryn could think about were those dreams she had. All that death, all that pain. Were those dreams memories, or predictions. "Did you learn anything about the dreams?" Kathryn asked hopefully. She really didn't want to find out the hard way it was a prediction.

BB had suggested that they expand their search to outside, and though Kathryn was pretty sure that the study had to be in the basement, she had no way to know for sure after her attempts failed. "Again, I am almost certain the study has to be here. But I just... Dont know how to find it without dismantling the place." Plus if it was magic who could say that would even work? What if it was a pocket space of some kind? She had heard of those. "There's a storage out in the yard, we should check there for sure." Kathryn said with a defeated sigh before turning to join BB and Lizbeth. Before remembering the warning in the note.

Kathryn wanted to do her best to protect the small girl too, but she was worried that the more she tried, the more she was setting her up to fall even harder. She remembered the warning in the note, and didn't want to surprise Lizbeth with that. "Hey Lizbeth, before you go, you should take this. I thought I was protecting you, but I feel this is the wrong way too. If you decide you want to keep looking for the study with us, you should read it. This whole thing is going to be very close and personal to you. If I was in your shoes I would probably step away if I knew the situation was in good hands. But you should read this before you see the study." Kathryn said before pulling the note out from behind her breastplate. Bug Plate. "It's addressed to Cecily, but you have a right to know." She said before handing the note over to the small girl.

"Right, an’ thank ye, miss—ye’ve been of a help already," Daxos said, voice low and gravelly as he tipped an imaginary hat toward the clerk. "We’ll mind th’ archives. Ain’t our way tae go rootin’ where we shouldn’t."

Records stoppin’ at a century… only humans an’ halflings… aye, that smells o’ someone scrubbin’ clean what they dinnae want found. If the Vineyard’s got rats big enough tae star in a child’s nightmare, that’s one thing — vermin an’ rot can do strange things tae a ledger. But two folk droppin’ the same day recorded as ‘disease’? That hangs like a bad stitch. Could be coincidence, could be cover-up, an’ cover-ups don’t stay buried if someone’s pokin’.

"As fer yer offer, lass—aye, I’ll come wi’ ye tae the Vineyard when ye head back," he said, shifting his weight so the limp eased the strain on a tired knee. "Mebbe there’s coin tae be had, mebbe jus’ a warm bed an’ a roof fer a spell. An’ if there’s trouble—well—trouble finds me often enough without invitin’ it. I’ll keep eyes on the records an’ ears open. Ye ask Cecily, an’ I’ll keep a look out fer anythin’ that smells o’ lies."

Adventurers under one roof sounds safer than a lone dwarf in a vineyard, aye. But I’ve been runnin’ more than once for less than what skulks here. Best be ready tae move at a moment’s notice—keeps yer coin light, yer pockets lighter, an’ yer wits the heaviest thing ye carry. If this L’Rose business ties back tae somethin’ older, it’ll change how ye step in these parts. For now, we play the curious fools, ask polite, an’ take what’s offered. Then we vanish if the shepherds start askin’ too many questions.

Weather: The sky has cleared a bit more, allowing for more blue than white to be visible skyward. The sun is a more frequent friend, prompting the ambient temperature to rise a bit. While it is still cold, it might be hovering just a speck above freezing. The occasional gust of wind pushes about damp air, leading to a still biting breeze upon the uncovered or unwary.

Time: About an hour has passed since our last check-in, putting us firmly around midday.

Ambience: The interior of the Coach House is a tad warmer now, a little more comfortable, now that time has passed and the fire has been tended by those present. Lamps are available for lighting, were one to have the proclivities to do so. The well used but also well cared for wooden furniture here accommodates one comfortably enough, and the scent of grapeseed oil mixes with seasoned wood and the more sour-sweet notes of fine potables. This place is, in all respects, a small Inn with the exception that it stands on private land, for private use. In addition to the wide selections of extremely local wines and a few select favorites of the present and former owners, there stands the remains of a cask of ale, courtesy of our very large and strong Knight, and a still mostly full cask of totally not cursed brandy, courtesy of the groups earlier escapades.

The cellar, now a point of interest aside from the cool, dry spot to store semi-perishables, is dark. The only light present is what one brings with them, though there are plenty of oil lamps back in the main area to assist with this dilemma. many things can be found here - flour, nuts, dried and jarred fruits, cheeses, and the like all contribute to the overall ambience of the area, all neatly stacked and separated appropriate to their needs for the longest possible storage time before spoilage. All sorts of containers may be found here; sacks and baskets (hanging or otherwise), crates, hooks, and especially shelving, broad and solid, all set off of the wall with the exception of one bit of shelving which carried tools appropriate to opening crates and dealing with some of the more industrial needs of a functioning kitchen. Barrels of many types also rest down here, bearing the mark of the L'Rose family and the Rose River Vineyard.

In the greater lands about, one begins to note a decided amount of snowmelt. The day has progressed enough that the sun has broken free of its cloudy imprisonment (for the most part) and its warm, life-giving rays are right in the outset of reducing the inches of snow into something more manageable for the time being. The problem being, when it rests for the day, what will become of the melt? The high sun is enough to get the children of Southmoor off of the river ice, and even the fellow who mentioned that is was indeed a good day for fishing has disappeared to places unknown. Late risers and later workers have poked heads out of doors now, exposing the primarily Human population of the town to the open sky and still chilled atmosphere. Most of them busy themselves with shoveling snow from in front of their residences and what passed for streets in their immediate vicinity, with the Halfling minority population keeping mainly to themselves, still. The sounds of tools working behind closed shutters remains, but now it is joined across town by the occasional pleasant conversation. Most of these are about health and weather, commonplace things to discuss, though a few are in more hushed, almost conspiratorial tones. Foot traffic has increased moderately, and with it, Kosara and Daxos have been getting the occasional curious look, in the way that common folk of a region might react to outsiders.




In town, the lady behind the desk at the Town Hall looked upon Kosara with confusion at first, maybe coupled with a bit of genuine fear. It was rare indeed that a Tiefling show up in the extraordinarily rural area of Southmoor. Point of fact, her presence likely marked the only Tiefling that many of the townspeople had ever seen. So when she began to discuss in a marginal amount of detail the expressed displeasure of her "grandpa" in rapid words and friendly, if seemingly excited gestures, there was a mote of worry. All of this built into an expression that might have insisted upon calling the nearby soldier, until Kosara mentioned the rats. Then her demeanor shifted considerably. "Oh! You're with the group of Independent Contractors that Sheriff Gregory hired to handle the Goblin issues, right? And handled Constable Cavendish? I never did like that guy, even if he was Gregory's cousin. Rude fellow. But, you're The Ones Who Answered, right? I don't remember hearing about a Dwarf in your number, but you know how rumormill works. Nothing's ever everything."

She appeared a little more open to discussion at this time, even going so far as to volunteer a bit of information. But first, "Wait, you're telling me there's actually something happening at the Vineyard? That's tragic! Does it have anything to do with..." her tone dropped to a whisper, "...the dead guy from last night?" She let it hang there for a moment, but did eventually continue. "I've already told you, no one owned the land out that way, or even this town's land, back more than eighty or a hundred years. I mean, maybe someone did a really, really long time ago, but this place only got built up by settlers from the kingdom a few generations ago. The pioneers didn't keep the best records at first, either. Literally nothing was on that land before the L'Roses settled it. They tilled the first soil, grew the first grapes, made the first wine. Southmoor and the villages around really only exist because laborers needed someplace to live, at first. But if you want to know more from someone who's been here a while, talk to the grey Dwarf that lives with the L'Roses. I remember him being here from when I was a little girl, far back as I can remember."

The halberd-wielding soldier took the opportunity to stride over to the desk, adding his own commentary. "You're the ones who took out Cavendish and all of his Wererat guards? Don't look like much, but I saw the inside of the Hall back in the Avonshire Township, before I got stationed out here. It was an abomination you lot put down, mademoiselle, monsieur. All the same, I'd rather be posted back at the Capitol with my family than out this way. No offense." The last part was to the clerk lady, who waved it away.

Back at the Vineyard - Within the confines of the cellar, Lizbeth nodded quietly to Victoria's request, and with Baronfjord's expert chaperoning they braved the bettering elements to ascend the exterior stairs. Lizbeth had left the book with her things in the same upstairs bedroom. On their way, she did exhibit better spirits with commentary like, "Master Baronfjord, have you ever read any of Madame Belmont's books? They're really interesting! This one, The White Book, is all about the Jasidan church and the stuff they do. Did you know that the same goddess can rule over beauty AND death? And they catalogue so many different ways to take care of dead people. ...or let dead people take care of you..." She looked thoughtful for a moment, "But she doesn't always seem like she's, you know, nice. But reading about her is interesting!" The book was easily located under her pillow, still in good condition, and brought back downstairs.



When she returned, Lizbeth used the opportunity to sit in the main room and read the letter. She looked withdrawn at first, but was soon overcome with emotion. Her head plunked down on the table in front of her chair and she wept until pulling in breath became difficult, at which time she forced herself to slow down. It looked truly painful, like someone attempting to breathe through layers of canvas. She was not the pretty image of springtime youth in this moment, but a bitter, sorrowful young woman with rage seeping up from the cracks of her psyche.

Until suddenly, she didn't. A shuddering exhalation left her, and she didn't pull any air back in following. Her skin became pallid, bloodless against the contrast of darkened eyes and unmoving features unless she willed it specifically. Then her chest did rise, just enough to fuel the words she spoke next. "Whatever did you do, Grandfather? Why did you do it? Is this why I'm ... whatever I am now? What in the hells did you sell me into?"

The pale, angry girl rose from her chair and stalked back down the stairs to the cellar. She took one more look around, no longer needing the benefit of light to make her way in the darkness, and settled her otherwise unmoving eyes on the shelf against the north wall. "I was very small, but I think I remember that we used to hang pork bellies near that wall. It's the only wall that lines up with the exterior, so it was a little bit colder." Her voice was barely inflected, like she was embracing this new aspect of herself more publicly. "I'd rather you not break anything if you can help it." This was now an openly armed, armored girl with all of the appearance of a recently deceased individual. It was vaguely reminiscent of Victoria's appearance when she channeled necrotic energies, but more subdued in nature. Lizbeth looked like a pissed-off dead girl walking.

"In the sarcophagus..." mused Victoria. Her eyes widened, reflecting the muted green pallor of the lightly glowing stone in which she was so engrossed. Her eyes darted back to Kathryn with the question about the dreams, but her voice seemed distant, quite preoccupied really, as she answered, "No... No, I didn't learn anything useful about the dreams. It's probably symptomatic of something, but I still don't know why..." The Bard's attention went back to the stairs, and her steps followed said attention back to the taproom. "I'll have this back to you, if you still need it. Okay, Kat?" This last bit was significantly more personable and focused; even delivered with a beaming expression. She was swiftly coming back into her element. At least, the one which didn't involve song.

It wasn't long until Victoria had taken up a significant portion of one of the tables in the taproom, books and notations on standby. She had procured for herself an oil lamp and thrown a couple more aromatic logs on the fire, and while the rest of the group took to their searches, the Bard abstained in favor of her research. She had taken a bit of time to brew a pot of tea for herself, flavored with dried pear peel and just a hint of that lovely brandy, but otherwise continued writing her notes and checking her books. There were even moments when she used her Morty as a footstool. Morty was quite the useful thrall, she reasoned to herself with a light smile. The primary text of her work was her copy of The Lucky Ghost, but many of her own songs and interment etchings provided scraps of useful information. She spent the majority of her time writing down facts of what she knew of this entity who called itself "Prince", and used these to narrow her search down. But it wasn't until Lizbeth and Baronfjord came back with her copy of The White Book that a pivotal piece clicked together for her.

Unfortunately, this happened at the same time that Lizbeth read the letter from her grandfather and had her own breakdown. Victoria was not a particularly wise individual in the ways of Human psychology, but she could read a room. A more morally inclined person might have moved to comfort the young woman in this time, but being honest with herself, this was not a thing which Victoria had been accused of with any regularity. Instead, she penned her final thoughts on her research on a clean bit of paper and put it to the side for the time being. Then she waited for her opportunity.

The opportunity came when Lizbeth rose from her chair. She looked quite dead, to put it bluntly, after getting so much emotion out of her slender frame. Curiosity got the better of her when she went into the cellar again, upon which the purple-clad Bard stalked over to Lizbeth's table and skimmed the letter from the late Monsieur L'Rose - the man whose scorched finger bone still lay in a pouch on her belt - and took in the words. Then something else clicked for her. "Lizbeth!" she called, moving to follow the girl to the stairs. If she was openly displaying the arcane things she was capable of doing, then there was no reason for Victoria to keep the secret anymore, either. "My dear, sweet Lizbeth, please listen." Her eyes met the half-alive girl with focused intensity as she asked, "When you were first able to do these things, did it come all at once, or was it a trickle? Like, slowly over time, and you had to practice some things before you could do them well? Please tell me."

Lizbeth's confirmation that things did indeed take a while for her to grow into - years, actually, seemed to delight Victoria visibly. The darkness around the Bard's eyes deepened and the black tear streaks returned as she spoke, keeping it clear and easy to understand. "The green stone, the flavor of your grapes, the reason you needed to get your grandfather off of the land after he died, all of it has a reason. It's the same reason that you are..." she gestured, as if to conjure up the words, "...the way you are, Lizbeth. Your grandfather didn't sell you into anything, dearest child. But I think the Prince was waiting for you to, well, to happen." The smile returned. "This isn't anything to fix, I promise. You have been touched by magic since before your birth, and it has become part of you. With the proper training, you may become a powerful Sorcerer one day. Your power is yours, and it will respond to you if you embrace it."

Though she was smiling, what she learned of this Farid al Ramil Sabaj al Hazred, Prince of the Southern Sands, had her significantly worried. But she would deal with that after the kid got something akin to momentary closure about her family's horrifying, multi-generational mistakes. Arnaud L'Rose was not a good man, from the look of things, but at least he didn't sell out his only surviving family to some undead abomination calling itself royalty. "We can address the Prince in a moment. Right now, let's find Arnaud's second study. It looks like he left you something inside. Okay? We can talk about your magic a little later, promise. In depth."

“That’s us! We are staying at the Vineyard to help with stuff and to pass the winter!” Kosara cheerfully informed the other woman, now distinctly more upbeat and chipper than when she was remembering the rats. Yes people didn’t just happily recall a literal tide of rats… maybe a rite, they were more like a totally covering veil that spread across everything, only hindered by righteous and very hot fires. Needless to say, it was not a good experience to remember.” Yes, he was a mean mean man… also rude, yes. Very much so.” She nodded sagely, recalling a certain Cavendish that had gotten way too many wrong names from her for many conscious and subconscious reasons, most of which was Kosara doing it without even realizing it after all.

Kosara gave her a smile and a happy noise as she nodded. Daxos was not part of the group, but they were now friends! Not the best friends or REALLY good friends, but friends non the less! As far as Kosara was concerned it was all good and how it had to be.

“Yes.” The tiefling nodded sadly.” It was a very sad and shocking affair and now we are concerned and researching every possible clue just to make sure.” The dancer explained and made a thinking face as she was now making a few notes in her journal for later.” Guess he will know more.” She nodded, making a thinking face.” Well I got to talk with him anyways for a gift project.” She quipped happily, thinking of the gift she was planning for Kathryn.

Kosara looked at the polearm wielding guard, nodding at his statement.” Yes, the giant rats were disturbing… so were the mansized ones… and the sea of small rats. Ever seen a scene like a liquid swarm of rats covering everything was trying to get to you, only blocked by burning pitch?” She asked.” Disturbing… Too many red eyes squirming in the darkness. Though to be fair I thought something was off about the Hall from more or less the start of it.”

Scribbling a few more notes in her journal, she took a deep breathing, closed the thing and put it away into her bag.” Thank you for the help some very important clues were revealed, I think. I will talk with my friends and see what they found and hopefully everything will be alright.” She nodded with a smile.” They are smarter than me, especially V. She’s a very smart person and plays a violin. Very purple.” She then turned to look at Daxos.” We better get going, it’s not going to take some time to walk back to the vineyard in the slow, especially since out of town towards it, the snow is bigger.” She informed the dwarf, since it was his destination also. Then the tiefling turned to the guard and the clerk, giving them radiant smiles.” Thank you for the help and the kindness! I hope we get to meet again eventually, maybe at a tavern for drinks and merriment!” With an energetic wave she skipped towards the exit, humming an upbeat tune.

Eventually the skipping along was replaced by merry stomping along once out and walking through the snow. It was not nearly as entertaining and fun as stomping in rain puddles, that still took the spot, but hearing and feeling the crunchy snow was fun in it’s own way. On the way to the coach house, Kosara made sure to point out any interesting points to Daxos. Such as...” Over there, it’s not quite visible from here, but somewhere in that direction, is the secret burrow workshop that was walled and buried. It was filled with probably cursed brandy and had some weird magical things going on just by entering the place. Made the flowers in my hair appear. Berry got shiny, V and Kathryn got bigger from it. Also had probably weird undead, but made sure they got burned good least something happen with holy flames.” Kosara quipped.” Place’s properly barricaded now though, just in case. Wild magic and so on.”

A bit more down the line when the Coach house was in reasonable distance and view and was drawing rather closer.” And temporary home sweet home! The Coach house we are staying in. It’s nice, reminds me of my time growing up at the Oasis’s inn, though it’s only us here right now and the occasional vineyard staff that comes for a chore or another.” She introduced the dwarf to the location.” Want me to show you to the estate proper first or would you like me to introduce you to my friends first instead?” She asked him, grinning. Maybe she was grinning like a loon too! Maybe!

BlackBerry welcomed Lizbeths enthusiasm for her borrowed book even despite the subject matter of them. He nodded and snottily 'hmm' -ed and 'Ah, I see' -ed as they braved the ordeal that was ascending the steps to her room, and then once inside the second story he replied, "I admit I have not yet read The White Book, no. But I am glad to hear you are finding the topic...interesting." He did struggle for the word. The topic of Death and even Undeath as Lizbeth insinuated did not strike him as good reading. Especially given the circumstances. "But you may find in further reading in other Gods or Deities similar branching or even contradictory claims of aspects of Life and even Death. I would not consider myself an expert in the subject but I have spent much time studying such beings, they do make quite the fascinating reading."

Once they had equally perilous return journey back down the snowy stairs and inside the taproom BlackBerry decided to leave investigating outside until later when he had either warmed up properly again or his nose had stopped trying to run for the hills. By this time Victoria had already started to revive the fire and by the pile of books, scrolls, and other equipment on a nearby table was preparing for the long haul on her investigation. BlackBerry took the opportunity to try and dry off his improvised cloak removing the blankets and draping them over some chairs close to the fire where they soon began to steam.

Next, was his own investigation which he changed to be simply checking the taproom floor (the idea of going outside again to aimlessly check corners of buildings didn't appeal to him) for any suspiciously square planks, worn areas, or hidden doors under rugs. His search also comprised of tapping or even stomping in specific areas trying to listen for any echoes that might suggest a hidden room beneath, as Lady Kathryn suggested the cellar was a lot smaller than the rest of the building. But sadly he found nothing more than a withering glare from Victoria across the top of her book.

Even after all this, his cloak was still drying, both Lizbeth and Victoria were busying themselves reading, and Lady Kathryn had resumed her own search, so Blackberry decided to head into the kitchen to revive the fire there so it would be ready to cook with upon Kosaras return. He was about midway through feeding and drawing up the fire when he heard a strange noise but it only took him a second to recognise.

"Lizbeth? Young Lizbeth, whatever is the matter?" He asked rubbing her back trying to soothe the poor girl. No real reply could make it through the painful weeping sobs but instead a crumbled up note was pushed towards him.

He uncrumbled the note and read it. Hr read it again. And then a final third in the vain hope he gad been mistaken the first two times. His stomach sank with dread.

It was a very good thing Victoria had interjected whe Lizbeth had stood and gave Lizbeth several words of advice as it meant the girl was facing away from Blackberry when he caught sight of her pale, gaunt, bloodless face. He was simply horrified at the change.

BlackBerry waited until Lizbeth had gone downstairs before turning to Victoria and handed the note to her. "Have you read this? I believe it may support your thoughts, if we are thinking along the same lines." The shock of the moment had passed and now anger had begun to curl around his words. "Just as to Why Lizbeth has this.. "

Kathryn had some regrets. Maybe she could have handled the letter better, but the more she tried to hide and protect Lizbeth, the more she found herself finding Lizbeth being set up for a great and more painful fall. The more the small bean was likely to crash out from what she was going through. The more it would hurt. She didn't know if it was the right choice, but given the option to keep blindly sheltering Lizbeth, or to help prepare her for what may happen, the clearer the choice was that Lizbeth could not be coddled and sheltered forever. When Lizbeth began to break down, Kathryn found herself remembering her kinder years in her youth. Where instead of belittling her younger siblings and the other children of the keep, she instead was a pillar of support for those who were not as strong. Setting her helmet down on the table as Lizbeth struggle to contain herself.

Pulling up a chair next to her squire Kathryn wrapped her arms around young Lizbeth, holding her closely, giving her somewhere to feel safe for just a moment. "let it out. However you need too. And whatever you need, I will be here for you." Kathryn stated. She wished she could do more. But she didn't know much of the arcane. She didn't know for sure what she was going through. But Kathryn would do everything she could to help Lizbeth. She would do everything she could to support the girl. When Lizbeth stood up and began to march towards the basement, quickly turning into... that form she would sometimes turn into. It no longer surprised Kathryn. Though it did unsettle the warrior. Seeing what Lizbeth could do in the bright light, seeing what she was. Kathryn wondered if this was a curse, or if it was what Lizbeth was truly deep down. No. She may look like this, but that wonders small child who wanted to see what the world had to offer, that is what Lizbeth was. That is who she was. Even if she did look like this.

As the time passed, Victoria seemed to be making a bit more headway with things than Kathryn was. Firstly taking the creepy grave rock that Kathryn had found. Then disappearing to read her books. "I.... okay...." Kathryn said, not really sure how she felt on this. But for all intents and purposes, Victoria was the expert on such matters. And be the expert she was. In moments the bard had put pieces together that Kathryn couldn't even wrap her head around. When Kathryn heard Sorcerer, she was tempted to ask Victoria the difference between a sorcerer and a warlock, but in the end she decided against such measures. For now, give Lizbeth time to process the information and then figure things out. BB had also taken the time to read the letter, and it seemed the party was more or less in agreement. Lizbeth was definitely effected by strong magic. Dangerous magic. But, she was still her. She was just, struggling with power beyond her comprehension.

Returning to the basement, Lizbeth had taken a moment too help figure things out, pointing out the coldest wall used to store the bacon. Alas, it was another angle to look at things, so Kathryn got to work. She moved bits about, shoved them to the side, and as per Lizbeth's requests, she did not break everything in an attempt to figure it out. Alas, a fair request. That is when she noticed, the only bit of fixed furnishing in the room was a single shelf, used to store tools, ropes, parts, and the only furniture affixed to the wall. But, it stood out too. Kathryn wasn't sure what it was, but she had found herself a depressed drunken mess a few times in taverns so she could at least claim to be an expert. Something... was off. So she began to move about the tools on the shelf, even the shelf itself. Maybe there was a lever to reveal something? Maybe there was some way too learn more?

Weather: There is about an equal amount of blue to white in the midday sky. The sun is shining with the intensity generally expected from this time of the year, as if the crushing blizzard of the previous evening was a fading memory, evidenced only by the accumulation of snow upon the ground and scattered in drifts. The mercy of the wind abates, resulting in the more than occasional bite of cold, damp air.

Time: It is slightly after noon. The sun quite high in the sky at present.

Ambience: Inside of the Coach House, it is swiftly becoming downright toasty. Taproom and kitchen both stand readily supplied with wood, oil, candles, lamps, and good, solid stone fireplaces to absorb and radiate heat. With more or these in use, it's actually quite nice inside. The vast selection of wine remains here behind the bar, along with the extremely, obviously-not-cursed brandy and less full cask of local ale. Plain but excellently constructed wooden furniture stands here, the pride of local craftsfolk; practical if not particularly artistic.

Very nice. Warm. Except for the cellar - Given to its purpose, one's breath still condenses against the cooler air down here. It is stable and dry, as one might expect cellar storage to be, though still beset by a distinct lack of illumination (unless one brings it with them). This place is positively stuffed to the brim with many varieties of edibles, both nonperishable and semi-perishable. Everything stored in neat rows, columns, and piles; hung from the ceiling or placed neatly in appropriate crates, jars, or other containers with clear labeling. Naturally, owing to the nature of the vineyard at large, there is a respectable amount of wine stored down here in barrels, as well.




Lizbeth continued holding her "significantly less alive" looking form as Victoria tried her best to cheer her up. On the other hand, she appeared to be very open to any avenue of potential hope that didn't make her a monster. Or a slave. She spoke the word back to Victoria very carefully, testing it in her mouth, "Sorcerer?" A hair of emotion broke through her corpse-like visage. A genuine smile, even if it was blunted by ignorance of the situation, found its way to the surface. "What does that mean? What is the difference between a Sorcerer and ...whatever the other thing is you thought I might have been?" Her knowledge of the Arcana was practically nonexistent. "And this," she gestured to her face, still very recognizably her but obviously under the influence of something necrotic, "just happens to Sorcerers?" She looked both hopeful and dubious simultaneously through her undead features. She said these things, asked these questions, as she returned to the spot in question below. Yes, Victoria wanted them to speak on the particulars later. But the girl was, as many are about things which concern them, impatient.

Kosara and Daxos's approach to the Coach House was familiar for both of them; this being Kosara's home for the past number of weeks and this being the place from which Daxos helped Urmdrus recover the crated-up body just that morning. The entryway to the courtyard was open as per usual and the exterior door to the taproom was closed solidly, the footprints in the snow leading toward it hinting at warmth and adventuring colleagues within.

The search of the tool shelves brought very little in regard to immediate success. In fact, it was rather infuriating at first. Prybars, barreling tools, the occasional kitchen utensil which didn't see much in the way of use, etc., all fell victim to the situational uselessness of Kathryn's search. It wasn't that something odd caught her eye, not at first. It began as a smallish box which didn't want to move at first. Much like the shelving itself, it was held fast in place, possibly against the wall, possibly against the shelf. Maybe both, for all one could tell without putting more physical pressure against it. The smallish box was a perfect cube carved of dark wood with what looked like several slats and places which could be pressed or moved. The center of each of the visible sides of the cube presented a circle with the image of a mushroom of vectored design within, surrounded by runic writing. Upon examination, the runes looked familiar to Kathryn, but untranslatable gibberish; lettering far out of sequence to anything she personally knew.

Victoria noted the apparent progress of the others in the party, as it concerned locating the elusive "second study." While she was a passable investigator, it looked like the best interests of them all lay in her abilities as an arcane researcher. Specifically, helping to guide Lizbeth to a point of understanding. The sooner her head was on straight and her soul was out of chronic, mortal terror, the sooner she could be more useful. And find some peace. Though there was a note of selfishness to her reasoning, the Bard had legitimately become fond of this girl. It did help that she was extraordinarily interesting, being objective. "Come now, Lizbeth. Let's step away from here for a moment. Maybe you're right - It would be impolite to leave you with questions hanging like that. Let me pour you a cup of tea, and we can leave the others to figure out the cellar, okay?"

Back upstairs, amid the papers and books (which Victoria tidied hastily, enough to allow for space to set up a place setting for herself and Lizbeth) a fresh cup was filled and another refilled with the pale brown gold mortals called "tea," which unfortunately had grown too close to room temperature for Victoria's liking. With a smile, she channeled a tiny amount of magical energy to bring the liquid back up to steaming with a casual wave and soft, melodic hum. "That is the way I use magic, dear Lizbeth," she explained. "I manipulate the Weave in ways of personal expression. It varies from Bard to Bard, but we all follow similar rules. Your way will likely be very different." She sipped her tea and continued, "To answer you, a Warlock, which is the other path, acquires a different kind of magic by coming to an agreement, direct or implied, with a powerful entity. Their magic requires less discipline to master and they ...become... as soon as the pact is made. A Sorcerer gains their magic because of a peculiarity of their heritage, or a magical force that fundamentally altered something about themselves. I believe that you are the latter."

Victoria pulled the green crystal back out into view, whereupon both herself and the girl had a reaction. Lizbeth's bloodless features sharpened, while Victoria's facial markings barely shaded into view where the dim glow struck her. "This is vivianite. As I told Kathryn, this is a crystal that forms under specific circumstances, amplified by the presence of magic. Those circumstances involve physical death and the dark. It puts off a gentle aura of necrotic energy, which after time may begin to affect the environment around it. I put it together when I read your grandfather's letter." She tucked it back away, making a mental note to look for more of the stuff later. "We are different kinds of spellcasters, Lizbeth, but we were both made to embrace necromancy. Mine was a choice. Yours was by circumstance. If you wish it, I can give you a basic education on Arcana which may help you come into your power, but for you, this is going to be a very personal experience. Like your ...hmm. Like the way you can change yourself. This is a concept I've never come across before. It might be unique. But if you have control over it, and no power outside of yourself allows or denies you to use your abilities, then this is nothing to be frightened of."

Hopefully easing the mind of the neophyte Sorcerer, Victoria smiled and drew from her education, stating, "Some sorcerers can get the impression of dragonscale across their skin. Others channel random, sometimes dangerous effects of magic whether they want to or not. Still others have changes to their eyes, skin, grow wings... it's all very personal. And it's nothing to be ashamed of. This is merely the magic that lives within you. Yours... Likely has its roots in Necromancy. It's powerful, Lizbeth. And one day, you may be powerful as well." She smiled broader as an idea came, which she related without delay. "Until the others figure out how to access this other study, please tell me - what magic have you been able to do so far?" Victoria's eyes seemed to sparkle. "I am markedly curious, and I am sure that you are safer trying this with us than elsewhere."

“Fairly certain that fate dictates all adventurers are by universal law obligated to stumble upon madness and weird things happening on a regular enough intervals.” Kosara quipped, pondering back to the many tales of adventures that she had heard over her life until this moment of time.” It’s either that or the world is always in the process of trying to get worse… could be either or both.” She added with a happy smile, given the subject matter, she probably shouldn’t be happy about it, but what goes in Kosara’s mind is a mystery even to herself.

“Alrighty! Let’s meet the others!” The white haired tiefling exclaimed, jumping animatedly, arms moving about as she pointed at the Coachhouse briefly before she began stomping across the snow covered earth with all the energy of a child who has had one too many cookies with way too much sugar in them. A valid danger if one was to ask Kosara’s family, getting her on a sugar high was an experience, but so was allowing her to drink natural halucinogenic cactus water.

” I’ve returned with at least some information and also brought a friend!” Kosara exclaimed as she stormed into the building through the door. Loose long while hair flying around her from the momentum. The warmth of the Coachhouse hit her right away, bringing a huge happy expression on her face as she took in the scene and realized that at first glance it was V and Lizbeth here. Also a lot of taken tables with research materials maybe. Probably Vs?” Hey! Liz, V!” She greeted them with a smile. “This is Daxos, said he had work with the Vineyard, so got him to tag along! He’s my new friend! Can we keep him? He’s way better than the fancy sneaky surly monk!” She then introduced her companion in her usual rapid fire manner of speaking as she was animatedly gesturing to the dwarf and sounding like she was asking if she could keep a random kitten she found by the roadside.

It was around this point that Lizbet's current appearance. That brought the tiefling woman a bit short and rendered her still and surprised." Lizbet, are you alright!?" She asked as she bolted over to get a better view of the younger girl, noting that V wasn't appearing to be panicking in the situation. As she took a good look of the girl and began recalling all sorts of little clues and pieces they had gotten over their stay here." Ah..." The tiefling made a sound of realization as she looked at Lizbet again and then at V."Ahhhhhhhh..."

"Told you it wasn't me the Ankheg was reacting to!" She pointed a finger at V." So Lizbet's kind of demidead... both alive and dead, but not quite really dead to be an undead. She is growing so she's not true undead, teh dead do not grow." Kosara quipped, thinking hard." Would explain some of the things I've been noticing... like ridiculous stamina and cold resistance..." Kosara was off in her own little land of brainstorming and sleuthing.

Post 142


BlackBerry could hear the jangle and thuds of things being moved downstairs. After lighting a candle he followed Lizbeth and Vicroria down to join Lady Kathryn who looked to be wrestling with a box.

"Anything of note?" He asked, angling the candle light so as to see better the details of the box. "My it does remind me of a puzzle box...here, Lady Kathryn, could you hold this please? There, and allow me to give it ago."

They were after all looking for a Secret Study, and with the obvious ideas of trap doors or unoticed bookshelves out of the question, that left only the really out of place or bizzare left to follow; such as a puzzle box apparently embedded into a wall shelf. At first he went after the slats of the box but without any luck trying to make them move, the same for pushing and twisting at the mushroom tabs even though they gave a little under his fingers. Then his fingers brushed along the corners of the box and at the front left he felt it twitch under his palm, he followed the movement and felt the corner click into place but the box stayed close. He "hmmmed". Getting to the other corner took some effort stretching his thumb and pinky finger to push both corners in. He was rewarded with a soft 'click'.

"Ah hah!" Blackberry grinned, opening up the box expecting to see....something. his grin dropped. "Ah...hah. Hm." The two slots at the back of the box stared bank at him.

"Would you happen to have found a key or fork perhaps in the investigation of the study?" He asked Lady Kathryn.

He noticed when turning to face her that Victoria and Lizbeth had gone up stairs but he could hear their voices drifting, muffled slightly, back down to them. He also heared the door opening and Kosaras unmistakable declaration of her return.

"Ah that must be Kosara, and she does sound in good health and spirit." The last knot of worry untangled itself. "We should go upstairs and report our finding. But before we do."

BlackBerry remembered he was still angry.

"May I ask, just what in the nine hells are you playing at?" BlackBerry fought to keep his voice quiet, it was a harsh restrained whisper griding through through his teeth. "The letter Lizbeth had, the one addressed to Madame L'Rose, that was the one you handed her was it not? Do not lie to me, just as you dine so easily this morning." A note of hurt overtook the frustation for a second before it happily hopped into the burning fire of rage. "Could you have chosen a better time to give her the information? Or better yet, leave it to her Aunt to tell her instead of reading it herself, here of all places?"

Blackberry piched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes in an effort to block out the headache that had been plagueing him most of the day. Lizbeth was already in a very, very precarious place emotionally and spiritually, and the letter in question may have been the straw that broke the camels back (whatever a camel was anyway). Lizbeth sorely needed time to process everything, answers to her questions about her Grandfather, and someone to sit down and guide her throught it; effectively the girl needed everything they didnt have enough of at present.

Against his better judgement he then asked, "Just where dud you get that letter?"

Victoria's assessment of Lizbeth was informative. Though it made really little sense to Kathryn. The only magic she even had an apprentice level grasp of was old style runic magic. And even then she was rather far from an expert. Her magic was still messy, was sometimes unreliable, and proved to be rather volatile at times. Sure, she didn't explode when she used her magic. But some days the runes felt like they were burning hot. And other days it made her ill to press her magic too far. A part of her wanted to help, but apart of her now worried she made things worse. But for the first time in a hot minute, Lizbeth was getting the answers she needed. But there was more to know. More to learn. More to understand. But, she hoped that Lizbeth would be okay. If anyone could understand the sort of magic that she was experiencing it had to be Victoria, right?

It was clear that the warrior giant was no puzzle expert. Sure, she was smarter than the average commoner, but that by far didn't make her an expert. It did however make her surprisingly literate. And she knew a few fun poems. But when it came to this fucking puzzle box? She had no luck. She tried pressing the mushroom looking button, and it reacted. Then... Unreacted. "Mother fucker." She stated in a single breath as she then began attempting to puzzle out the box. She wasn't ready to snap it open just yet. But the temptation was there. She was not as patient with inanimate objects as she would like to admit. Alas the more she fussed with it, the more tempting twisting it apart was. Her rather brutish impulses were tampered when BB approached, and offered to take a crack at it. "Be my guest. I'm a step away from finding the closest thing to a lid on it and twisting it off." She joked with a smile, though she was tempted. Like really? What is the worst that could happen from that?

Then BB got the box open. Doing it so easily that Kathryn felt like maybe, she wasn't as smart as she thought she was. Maybe she did need to pick up a private tutor again? Maybe learning half the words you knew in common from whores that the knight that trained you brought back to your shared dwellings wasn't a proper way to learn the language. Even if it was kitty corner from your own homelands language. But BB had figured it out! "Well. I'll be damned. You got it!" Sure, she was upset that she hadn't figured it out. BUT! it had been figured out! And that was a huge win! When asked about a key, Kathryn found herself gleeful! Maybe she could do more than just be muscle for the party! She had figured something out! Or at least collected clues. Reaching under her breast plate it took a bit to find the key. Wearing gloves, metal on metal, and bug hide, the key was difficult to find. But she produced it with a smile. "Found it in the same place we found the other clues. So it's gotta fit right?" Kathryn said. Sure, it opened the other box, but maybe old grand papi cheaped out on the locks? No. No he did not. This key did infact not work with this lock. Not even close. "Mother shit fucker." Kathryn said mildly exasperated. The slit was small... maybe she could wiggle a knife into it? Taking one of the many sharp instruments on her person, she then tried to slide a thin blade into the key like port, making nothing more than soft scratches. "Mother shit hell fucker." She said definitely annoyed now. It was like some cruel force of nature didn't want her to be able to solve this. What god would be so cruel?

When BB decided to return upstairs, Kathryn decided to join the dragonborn. Only to be met with some... very harsh criticism by her sparing buddy. He had a lot to call Kathryn out on, and rightfully so. She had lied. Though not as easy as BB implied, she had lied to people that had trusted her. And to his credit, he appeared to be subtle about it for now. So, Kathryn decided to share what she knew to BB, and for now only bb. "I asked Cecily for the keys to the lands. So we could investigate, and figure out the mysteries that plagued the vineyard. Right after Toombas's death. It felt cruel to push Cecily like that right after something so traumatic, but we needed every edge we could get. I even asked Victoria for some magic to aid me. Though I didn't share with her why. In truth, I have suspicions on a lot of people right now." She let out a deep sigh, hesitating to spread rumors without backing. But BB deserved to know her thinking. "We can not rule out Cecily as a subject." She spoke in an even more hushed tone so only BB could hear. "She has a motive BB. And didn't hand over the keys." She stayed hushed, but took a moment to clear her thoughts. "I do not have an exact reason to distrust her, but after everything with Cavendish and the Sheriff, I wanted to know more before voicing suspicions. That is why I didn't give the letter to Cecily. But the information in the letter, I felt Lizbeth had to see before she ended up seeing whatever was in the study. With whatever it being something that her grandfather knew, she would not like to see. As for where I found it, it was locked away in some sort of contingency box within the study." Along with notes, letters, and other assorted things. but the letter was the main note.

She slumped, unsure how to justify lying to her party members. "I didn't want to risk jumping to conclusions about Lizbeth either, not until we knew something more. But as Victoria helps ease Lizbeth through her understanding. I see I was wrong there." She was still hushed. Though a wave of emotions rushed through her. Making her rather unsure how to feel about this. Relieved to not have to keep hiding things? Angry that she wasn't able to help Lizbeth, or that she would think such things about someone who had taken care of all of them? Ashamed for becoming so paranoid about so many people with so little justification? She wasn't sure. "You can rightfully yell and berate me infront of the others later. I'll answer what I know. But please not in front of Lizbeth." She asked of BB before continuing to the main room with everyone else.

Kathryn was last to enter the tap room it seemed. And when she returned she was surprised to see yet another dwarf! She wanted to get excited, dwarves were kinda cool. Though she hadn't met too many. But for being so small, they were generally rather hardy and strong. With Kathryn being considerably stronger than the rest of the party, it was an interesting play to get someone else who may have some muscle to them present. Unless he was also another worker for the lands like Urmdrus, or if he was here for another reason. "A pleasure to meet you. My name is Ser or Lady Kathryn Pyke of Arcanaple. Pleasure to meet you." Kathryn said as she gave a curt bow as if she were wearing a dress instead of full plated armor made of chain links, leather hides, and bug scales. All wrapped up in a comfortable tunic. All while faking her biggest smile as she struggle with the pain of guilt. Lies. Shame. Then sitting up strait to make sure her bow didn't last too long, while positioning herself so her head wouldn't hit one of the ceiling beams. Again.

Weather: Little has changed with the weather in the last span of time. The sky is still skying, still maintaining that more-or-less equal coverage of puffy white and clear blue, the sun making its occasional appearance with the shifting cloud cover. While there is no additional snow falling, there is still a considerable amount of the scenic, frozen stuff; the ground is still covered except for extremely high traffic areas, and even then it is in slender wheel ruts and packed footsteps. The wind is still a force to be reckoned with, by its damp chill far more than the strength of its gusts. If one bundles against this wind and doesn't mind the cold, it's actually quite nice out.

Time: It is past noon, but not quite meandering into what one may call a proper "afternoon," in the nomenclature of the area. The sun is still high and the day is bright.

Ambience: The built up hearths and benefits of time, plus movement of its occupants have given the Coach House a genuinely comforting feel. No longer subject to the whims of whomever opens the door (so long as they don't hold the damned thing open), the main rooms of the building provide ample respite from the elements. While the light from the main fire does well to provide flickering, dim light overall, supplemented by a lamp with burning grapeseed oil on a nearby table, which was stacked with a small array of papers and a trio of books.

Overall, the taproom is the very image of a smallish but respectable Inn. It is furnished with Its stock of potables is primarily local wine, albeit with a few notable exceptions, including a mostly full cask of quite-probably-not-cursed brandy and a somewhat less full cask of ale, side by side on the bar.

The cellar remains as cellars do, surrounded by stone-layered earth and structural supports, colder than the areas of the building intended for regular habitation. This is doubly so in the winter, which in a stunning bit of coincidence, it happens to be. Breath condenses into short-lived mist, for those capable of seeing it in the relative darkness. The room is well stocked with edible goods, separate from one another and lifted off of the ground, all neatly shelved. Or hanging. Or crated, bagged, jarred, in whatever method best preserved the items within. Barrels, clearly marked with the Rose River Vineyard brand, also rest here untapped.



The shelving in the Cellar which contained the various prybars (forked and otherwise), opening tools, things for tapping, and more elaborate methods of food and product preparation has borne fruit, resembling a stationary puzzle box with presently unrecognized runes around the woodcut images of a mushroom on each of its faces. It presently stands open, empty but with with two in-line vertical slots recessed in the back, as if they held specific purpose.

"But," started Lizbeth, "what if I don't like necromancy?" Her voice had an amount of relief from Victoria's assurances but just enough petulance to remind one that she was technically still a child, by the standards of her culture. The idea that she might get a little in the way of magical training - or at least a better understanding of who and what she was from someone better learned than herself - seemed to brighten her spirits. A little. Even if the idea that she could become something potentially monstrous, and occasionally did, hung heavily in her mind. "That sounds delightful. When can we start? Oh, might I keep training with Lady Kathryn and Master Urmdrus? Will getting better with ...with magic... make me safer from, well, you know?" But she did remember the question at hand from Victoria. "I don't know exactly, but some things have happened that I can't always explain. I can fix things, like the coat you were wearing when you got shot by that Goblin."

At about this time, Kosara and Daxos entered the building, temporarily bringing the temperature down a little with the outside air. "Hi, Mademoiselle Kosara! Yes, Kosara is right. When the Ankheg came for the wagon that Aunt CeeCee and I were on, I made it afraid. I didn't know what else to do. And when we had to keep the grape vines alive overnight, I um, I changed. I don't get tired that way and I feel the cold a lot less. But I never did that while I was training with Lady Kathryn, I promise! That would be cheating. Oh! Once, a whole coop of chickens I was visiting fell asleep. All at the same time! I'm not sure what that means." Lizbeth nodded gravely. Her features were still that of the freshly deceased.

She noted Daxos and spoke with almost cheerful but ever polite notes, "You must be Master Urmdrus's new helper! It's nice to meet you, monsieur. I am Lizbeth L'Rose - Cecily L'Rose is my aunt and guardian. Have you spoken with her yet?" Cecily, of course, being the lady presently in charge of the Rose River Vineyard.

Seamlessly, she went back to Victoria's question, intoning quietly, "One time I got really scared one night - and then no one could see me. It only happened that once and I haven't been able to do it again since."