As if beckoned by the gods that govern of adventure their plights for somebody adept at doorcrafts to handle the door were answered and her new friend, the dwarf that was better than the fancy monk appeared! Seems to know his stuff if anything. The fact that the door was of dwarven make and the vineyard had a resident dwarf craftsman living in it, meant that it was probably Urmdrus’s handywork.

“Yep… why don’t we ask the person who probably crafted the door? Come on, Berry… it’s not like there are many Duegar in Avonshire as far as we are aware. And if it’s not him, he probably knows exactly who made it, but I’m fairly certain it’s him!” Kosara quipped, agreeing with V and still riding on Kathryn’s back with a gleeful expression on her face because piggyback rides were awesome and nobody would ever convince her it was not so. Only better ones were if she was to ride on Kathryn’s shoulders, but the basement’s ceiling really didn’t allow for such an experience… Maybe she’d convince her bestest friend to pick her up on her shoulders when they get outside one of these days! But back to the topic at hand.” In fact, want me to go run to ask him?” She asked, blinking her big pale eyes at everybody.

Then Kosara had a thought, she didn’t like the thought and what it entailed, but it wasn’t like there were a great many other options present than and there was something she had to adress.” LIGHT.” She encanted, gestured slightly with the fingers of one hand and her coat began glowing brightly, sending golden light in every direction, illuminating the dark basement and narrow passage. Like why didn’t they think of just bringing more light until now.

Kosara then sighed in a very dramatic and reluctant fashion she let go of Kathry and hopped down, her own two feet firmly back on the ground as she decided to give her idea.” If the brighter light from me, allows me to see through that keyhole to the other side I could probably Misty Step through the door and appear through it. Maybe it can be opened from the other side.”

Daxos listened patiently as Blackberry voiced his concerns, one thick brow raising at the question.

“Whit ah meant, lad,” he began, gesturing toward the polished wooden barrier,

“is that some Dwarven doors arenae made tae yield through the wee lock in front o’ ye. When ye build deep underground—proper deep—yer doorframe’s the true guard. Sometimes the only way tae get past the thing is tae work the stone around the mechanism instead o’ fightin’ the lock itself. Ye move the bones instead o’ ticklin’ the skin, ye ken?”

He watched Blackberry try his “open sesame”, lips twitching.

“Nae harm tryin’, but if it were magic, laddie, ye’d feel the hum in the stone.”

His fingers brushed the wall again—feeling for that hum.
There was none.

Kathryn and Blackberry exchanged another round of thoughts about fetching Master Urmdrus, and Kosara mentioned it as well. Daxos exhaled softly through his nose, amused and mildly exasperated.

“In the time it’d take tae bring the Master doon here, get him settled, an’ have him squintin’ at the stone, ah’d already have ye lot inside wi’ tea in hand.”

But then Lizbeth spoke—and her voice, though small, carried weight far beyond its volume.

Daxos turned to her, searching her face for doubt…
and found none.

He gave her a single, solid nod—the kind a soldier gives before breaking a shield wall.

“Aye, lass. Stand back then.”

He rolled his shoulders, took a breath, and knelt beside the frame again.

What followed was not brute force—at least, not in the crude sense.
Daxos handled the stone with the precision of a surgeon and the familiarity of someone raised among halls carved from the bones of the earth.
His fingers traced the mortar lines, feeling where weight settled, where tension sat, where the frame bore the pressure of the hidden corridor.
Then he chose his points—three in total.

Not random.
Not lucky.
Chosen.

He produced a compact hammer and a prybar from his pack. The tools met stone with a sharp, ringing clang, echoing through the cellar like a bell calling dwarves to work.

The first strike sheared a sliver of stone cleanly away.
The second widened an unseen seam.

The third broke a mooring with a crack like ice fracturing on a frozen lake.
Dust plumed around his boots as he worked—
controlled, rhythmic, purposeful.

Despite the harsh sound of metal on stone, his technique caused minimal damage. The stones surrounding the door loosened, tilting just enough to break the tension keeping the door locked in place. Small fragments fell, but the overall frame remained structurally sound—repairable with a day’s work, maybe less.

Finally, with a grunt of effort, he pried the last anchoring wedge free and stepped back as the door shifted.
Not violently—
not collapsing—
but releasing, surrendering to the removal of the pressure that once held it immovable.

He wiped dust from his beard.

“There we are. Door’s no’ broken—just… convinced.”

He glanced back at Lizbeth.

“Ye said ye were meant tae go in. Then let’s see what fate’s got waitin’.”

Weather: Oh, come on. We're all indoors, and stuff is just now getting juicy, yes? Well, the problem is that weather continues to weather, whether or not you have to weather it. So let's keep this simple. It's cold outside. The sun is absent as much as it is present. It isn't snowing, but there's a lot of the white stuff on the ground. The wind is a bother, but that only is a difficulty for folks who are out in it.

Time: Early afternoon. It's past the normal hours for lunchtime now; setting one's clock by meals for the region puts the next one at Tea, though we're still a ways off from that.

Ambience: Let's stick to the immediate surroundings for the time being. For everyone involved, that's the cellar and the secret room.

The cellar is a chilly but temperature-stale place place, unlike the freezing and choppy weather outside. Underground consistency is the theme down here, which is good considering the mostly full stockpiles of edible goods, dry goods, and barrels of wine. The tool shelf now stands open, revealing a little dust and a lot of darkness, or rather it would have were it not for the sudden illumination put forth by the application of some quick and simple magic. The door set into the stonework is a solid bulwark of strong wood and metal bolstering, allowing no light to come through - not even the keyhole, which appears to be covered from within the lock itself.




Lizbeth took a second or two, staring at Baronfjord as he mentioned what happened last time, for a moment completely baffled as to what he was talking about. This passes rather quickly as she remembered the more obvious changes inflicted upon the group, mostly all benign in nature. It even almost brought out a smile, which she pressed quietly into a mere upturn of one corner or her mouth. Whatever this was, it probably wasn't going to be so bad. At least, she hoped so.

The thought of Victoria casting anything that had the word "shatter" in it gave Lizbeth a look of anxiety. Yes, she said that she wanted it open. But no, not if it meant blasting the area into shards of raw stone, if indeed that was the purpose of the spell. There had to be some other recourse. Furthermore, the continued mention of Urmdrus was offputting. "I think if Master Urmdrus had anything to do with this, he might have told us at the beginning. I couldn't imagine why her wouldn't." Her voice became flat, almost monotone, as she spoke.

All of that changed as Daxos set himself to the task. What amounted to a failure against a well constructed lock turned into a masterful circumvention. While Lizbeth did not like the idea of the stonework being damaged, she had to admit to herself that this was efficient and relatively tidy in its execution. When all of the pieces lay neatly aside or on the ground, the young lady's eyes suddenly became beholden to what lay beyond, as did anyone else within seeing distance and proper angle to view.

They were in.

Beyond the doorway an open room, from their vantage point a strange mix of crafted stone and colored light. Upon the floor was engraved what might only be described as a magic circle, shedding a very localized red glow. Runes lined the circumference of this arcane image, and the center was dominated with a single series of lines which made an obscure shape. Maybe it was a rune, maybe a series of runes atop each other, maybe some other option steeped in eldritch meaning. Beyond this, from the vantage of anyone directly in front of the doorway, were stone walls, the far one featuring a freestanding shelf which contained various odd sundries and a few books. To the immediate left one could see a stack of crates, and the right showed what appeared to be a table with some sort of crude leather and metal restraints, placed optimally for wrists and ankles.

Were one to venture into the room, they would see three simple holding cells, and to the right of the door, what appeared to be a desk with materials upon it. But there was no time to give any sort of dedicated look around, as mere seconds after the door and frame pieces were removed, a rush of arcane energy washes over the rooms, passing through the individuals present with a rush of potentially transformative power.

"What in the Hells was that?" THOUGHT LIZBETH. "Did I do this? I don't think I did this." IT WAS VERY CONFUSING TO THE GIRL, AND SHE TOOK A TENTATIVE STEP FORWARD, MOSTLY IN INSTINCTIVE WONDER. HER WONDER SHIFTED TO THE NOW PAINFULLY OBVIOUS AS SHE HEARD HER INNERMOST THOUGHTS AND EVERY ACTION SHOUTED IN REAL-TIME NARRATIVE BY AN UNFAMILIAR MALE VOICE. "Is that me? No, It couldn't be me. I can't do... what if I think of..?" LIZBETH'S EMOTIONS RAGED INTO EMBARRASSMENT AS SHE TRIED NOT TO THINK OF THINGS SHE WAS ALWAYS TOLD WAS UNWOMANLY, WHICH SHE COULD NOT HELP AS A CURSE OF HER COMING-OF-AGE AND UNSURETY OF HER OWN BLOSSOMING SELF-IDENTITY. SHE FORCED BACK THE MORE - "Oh I'm a gummy bear! Yes, I'm gummy bear! Oh, I'm a yummy tummy funny lucky gummy bear! Oh, yeah! (Gummy gummy gummy gummy gummy bear...)" LIZBETH SANG INTERNALLY, HOPING TO OCCUPY WHATEVER THIS PHENOMENON WAS UNTIL IT PASSED, IF IT EVER DID.

Lizbeth seemed determined to get in the room. Kathryn could hardly blame her, but she worried. Apart of Lizbeth still wanted to experience her childhood, but the more that the would be squire continued on this path, the harder it seemed to Kathryn it would be to retain some of that childhood life. A part of Kathryn wanted to spend a day to just have Lizbeth get a chance to enjoy her life a bit. If today went well, she would have to make that happen. If it went poorly, a day of mourning with sweets and somewhere comfortable to sit while Kathryn did what she could to help.

When Bb mentioned what happened last time they went into an isolated room Kathryn felt very suddenly self conscious. Sure, when it came to battle being the biggest and strongest was nice. However when it came to her self image issues all Kathryn would do was worry she wasn't good enough. The idea of getting even taller again gave the half giant some concerns. The additional comments on the stonework being recent Duergar work was... intriguing unfortunately. "Its probably safe to assume Master Urmdrus even if he doesn't know about this doorway, he may at least have an idea who could have worked on it." Kathryn wondered if that lockbox had staff records in the main study. Maybe they could see who was on payroll?

Kathryn again felt more surprised than anything when Kosara climbed off her person. "Okay... and we're getting down now." Kathryn said raising her arms so Kosara could move without too much getting in her way. As Kosara brought up the idea of getting master Urmdrus to help with the door, Daxos explained he could get it open long before anyone could get to the Master Urmdrus's workshop, find him, and convince him to come back. Assuming he was there. "He may also know if there are any traps, or he may even have a key." He may also be complicit in whats going on. But she didn't want to share those thoughts. Especially in front of Lizbeth who's circle of trust must be struggling right now.

Daxos seemed pretty sure about the lack of a magic trap, and the ability to... remove the door from the frame?! Well damn. That is one way to do it. "Not an idea I would have had, but it is impressive work none the less." Kathryn offered up to Daxos. Kathryn had to respect the craft. She was a metal worker herself mostly, but trade skills were something she absolutely was into. As the door was removed with precision, BB made a move to help remove it, Kathryn would lend a hand in assistance moving it out of the way. BB's concern about another wild magic surge was met with Victoria using her skills in magic to assure everyone that things would be fine. "BB, Victoria knows more about magic than anyone I have ever met. If she says its safe I'm sure its fine." However, Kathryn would be forced to eat her words with as much enthusiasm as her drinking habits made her drink hard liquor.

The room itself was unsettling to Kathryn. The mini cells reminded the warrior of the basement of the township building. The pieces of people being sewn together to make those... creatures. The table with chains only helped to bring that fear back. The urge to start raining hell grew only more as a deep male voice began to speak out. Sure, Kathryn wanted to freak out. Sure, she was ready to freak out. But! Once she realized what the voice was, once she began to process the words being said, she decided that she was way, too fucking sober for this. "What in the loving fuck is a gummy bear?" Kathryn mumbled as her thumb struggled to open the water skin filled with brandy.

Post 147


BlackBerry raised his eye ridges at Daxos. "Ah. I see." He lied, not understanding the mans explanation at all.

Was there perhaps another lock in the door frame as well? As he had already said, such things were beyond him. Despite this BlackBerry watched Daxos work with intrigue and glad for Kosaras light so that none of the details were missed.

"I shall admit Master Urmdurus was my suspicion also." BlackBerry said between a fit of sneezes and then added from behind the handkerchief. "I simply thought it rude to assume however."

While Daxos worked his craft on the door BlackBerry allowed Victorias reassurance to assuage at least a small portion of his worries. He had to agree that it would be unlikely that any magic would have had enough time to build up in the same way as before, and he nodded agreeing to Lady Kathryn that if Victoria, their resident magic specialist, felt it safe than who was he to argue otherwise?

"Ah marvelously done, good sir." He said once Daxos had completed his work and the cloud of dust settled. "Here, please allow me to pull the door outwards for i do worry for it to fall in upon something that may be of some import."

Two tendrils of unburning fire stretched out from his shoulders and then, BlackBerry stepping to the door, slipped into the cracks between the wall and door frame where no flesh and blood limb could fit. He grasped the door handle and pulled. The door frame shifted towards him barely an inch, the left fiery limb flared into the material world and pulled the frame forward on that side. The motion was repeated on the right, and then left again, then right, then left. Inch by inch the door frame was marched reluctantly towards them all throwing up small clouds of grit and dust with each grinding movement. Finally, with a small gasp of fresh air hitting stale, the door frame popped out of tunnel.

BlackBerry suddenly felt a whole lot better; his nose unblocked, the headache vanished, and the chill that had settled on him from his outing finally left his bones.

This was followed just as suddenly by a loud booming voice began filling the room describing all the actions and horrified thoughts of poor Young Lizbeth.

BlackBerry locked eyes with Victoria and tried with all his might not to say four words.

Today, for all of Victoria's cool demeanor and charismatic ways, was not going well for her. It looked like it might, truly, but this very hopeful personal prophecy was swiftly proven to be nigh-irrevocably incorrect in ways she had genuinely not considered. The situation wasn't out of her control when Daxos was able to get around the door; a thing which likely deserved some form of recognition but to which she would not commit until she knew the Dwarf better - or she wanted something from him. Nor was it out of her control when she received a vote of confidence from Kathryn, concerning her formal knowledge of Arcana. No, there were some monstrously clear signs when reality began to slip away from her ability to negotiate with it.

It began with a burst; a rush of magic that permeated the room in a big whoosh, like a great exhalation of the magical equivalent of a held breath. It didn't seem like anything was amiss over the first second or two, but all at once, with the dread surety of a descending headsman's axe, things happened.

One of these things was the sudden, loud narrative of a younger lady's innermost thoughts and actions in a bursting baritone. This was enough to startle the usually unflappable Half-Elf who had seen and done many a thing in her as-yet youthful experience, and it likewise surprised her with a sudden genuine spike of protectiveness over young Lizbeth, as she was being subjected to what amounted to a violation of her mind, which Victoria wished to cease as quickly as possible. It was striking, really. The practitioner of Necromantic Arts through music had become a little more attached than she had bargained for when she rode into town at Harvestide.

Another of the things was her faithful companion and loyal Thrall, Morty, exploding into a kaleidoscope of scintillating light and color, shifting about in an experience that was chaotic, fevered, and thoroughly impossible without the use of either mid-tier illusory magic or dangerous amounts of very specific, oft illegal, mushrooms. To make matters stranger, they seemed to be emanating from his mostly concealed eye sockets. There may occasionally be a pinprick of necrotic energy there when he sets to tasks, but nothing like the multicolored, multifaceted lanterns they were now, which helped illuminate the room with beautiful, but highly confusing brightness.

It didn't end there. Anxious to put a stop to things, Victoria replaced her violin with the Wand that the rest of the party had left in her care and reached issued the mental command necessary to release its magic. It was a simple divination, one designed to seek out items and places of magic; the idea being that they might be able to find a source if it was an ongoing effect or a trap, but this meant nothing in the next second. Specifically, the second that Baronfjord caught her with accusing eyes, justly so, was the same second that her wand activated; also the same second that she soundlessly disappeared from sight.

It turned out that she was the first one in the room, not like she had the wherewithal to tell anyone. Victoria was able to get the tiniest glimpse of the study/torture chamber/panic room just as the wand began to show the presence of magic. There were spots of color that she could read schools of magic from in this place; a few places she might wish to look into, and things which called for caution, but that meant nothing as she suddenly, and again soundlessly, found herself in the Taproom.

"What in the HELLS IS..." but that didn't actually get said in the Taproom. Instead, it was uttered upon the roof of the Coach House. Victoria stood precariously upon the packed snow, taking in quite an amazing sight of the area around her for less than a second before a sheet of the layered white stuff shifted earthward, prompting her to fall upon her back and drive the wind from her lungs. The strap for violin case had slipped down to the crook of her elbow and she still held the wand, still seeing through its divining magic, as ice-assisted gravity carried her toward the edge of the roof.

Briefly, Victoria wondered if there was enough snow down there to break her fall, at least somewhat.

Before the unpleasantness of bone and flesh meeting hardpacked earth and ice below, Victoria was able to slip her favorite dagger, the one she was given by her father upon her departure from home the first time, and wedged it into the ice between two roof shingles. There wasn't much time for celebration, as her position was ultimately not sustainable, and she really didn't think she could flap her arms fast enough to soften the landing. She quickly ran through her magical repertoire for spells that might be useful. Most of her magic was of extremely limited use in situations like this, unless she wanted to attempt to Shatter the roof and gain entry that way, but that was as likely to pitch her off the side anyway. If the worst came, and she was still barely conscious, Victoria comforted herself that she did have one minor healing spell the might use to fix herself up. And another to get blood from clothes. But again, she really didn't want to risk it.

A quick mental summons was able to bring her Raven into the physical plane. "Get help," she intoned quickly and quietly. She wasn't sure how that might happen, as the Coach House was closed up for the winter and everyone was in the cellar amid the chaos, but it was worth a shot. She shifted her eyesight into her Familiar as it took to the air. Maybe there would be someone on the grounds, at least, that might help. All the while, her valiant Raven voiced its own croaks and caws of urgency. Maybe if she was lucky, this random but localized series of teleportations wasn't done with her yet. If she was very lucky, it would leave her someplace more stable than the side of an iced-over, slanted roof.

Morty, the undead disco ball that he now was, just stood there.

Well Daxos didn’t want to wait for her to go find Urmdrus neither did Lizbeth really so Kosara supposed that was fine. She was going to play her part as the most glorious of glorious torches! And shed light she did! Heroically so as the dwarf was doing his thing that was apparently making it so they can remove the door itself without breaking it. Well… whomever made an indestructable door likely saved from the expenses for the wall around it, she supposed that made sense yes.

What followed next could only be described elequently as huge fucking clusterfuck as the way was opened and with it apparently the buildup of energies… not too different from last time, now that Kosara thought about it. Moving into the opened space, she had to suddenly content with a few different things. She could SEE! Now the jolly tiefling didn’t have bad eyesight before, but this was even better! She could see every minute detail and see in the dark even better! This was some magical schenanigans afoot again, of course that was quite obvious with the voice narrating a very panicking Lizbeth.

“Hello, Mister Narrator voice!” Kosara called out to the nebulous force as she turned around to look at Lizbeth.” That’s nothing to worry, Liz.” She reassured and began focusing on the room again. Table for strapping people or things down check, cages… check, damned portal… triple check! This didn’t look good, not at all.” No idea, Kathryn, but it sounds delicious.”

Then as suddenly as a bolt from clear sky, Kosara realized something.” Hey… anyone saw where V went?” She asked, looking around in suspicion.” Because she certainly didn’t walk away and she’s not here…” She looked around, making a count of the people present in her head. Berry was here, Kathryn was here, Narrator man was here, Lizbeth was also here, Kaleidoscope Morty was ALSO here… she was here, Daxos too was present, but no purple bard.

“AND NOBODY TOUCH THE GLOWING RED CIRCLE OF POTENTIAL EVILNESS BEFORE WE FIGURE OUT WHAT’S HAPPENING!” She also added with surprising seriousness before returning to look around this time in search for a bardiest bard she knew. Part of her worried that V might be tiny now, shrunken down! So she used her newfound perception to confirm that hse couldn’t see a tiny bard at their feet. Nobody was shrinking the party, right?

Weather: Only one person is out-of-doors right now, and the immediate weather isn't her biggest concern right now. But consistency manages expectations, so here we go. The temperature continues to hover right at or below freezing, but the sky is slowly clearing to a picturesque blue, more or less equally sharing space with clear, upper atmospheric white. Said whiteness almost perfectly echos that which is on the ground, even if the snow is beginning to recede somewhat and get crunchy in others. The wind is still annoyingly chilling to those still out in it.

Time: Still early afternoon; it's only been a few minutes since the last update. Teatime is still a ways off, but lunchtime has passed.

Ambience: The cellar maintains its continuing, near unchanging nature inside. The temperature is stable and cool, which has not altered since the opening of the secret door. Much in the way of household goods are stored here, as well as tools, barrels, crates, etc., but the attraction of substance, so to speak, is what may or may not lie beyond the now open section of wall behind the shelving.

The newly revealed "study" maintained what might be described as a magic circle, shedding a dim, localized glow upon the immediate area. It was festooned with runes of uncertain meaning about its circumference and formed a shape, also of uncertain meaning, also shedding a dim glow. The only entrance or exit from the room is the now empty doorframe, the door from which was just cracked open and set to the side. Beyond the now gaping opening, visible in the dim light, were the same stone walls that lined the cellar, a smallish rack of shelves upon the far wall which contained sundries and a few books, and one might even detect an irregular stack of crates next to the door as one went in. More ominously, a large table with metal and leather restraints dominated one side of the room.

Entering the room revealed three holding cells, the nearest one being occupied by a husk of a human-sized creature, sitting in a perfectly still fetal position. The other side of the room bore something more akin to a work desk, replete with all of the things one might see on the deck of a dedicated clerk or administrator of come kind. One may assume that the subject matter was more scandalous than wine sale projections or labor standards.




THE UNCERTAIN AND SWIFTLY MADDENING LIZBETH STEPPED NERVOUSLY FROM ONE FOOT TO THE OTHER AS SHE MAINTAINED THE SILLY CHILDHOOD SONG IN THE FORE OF HER THOUGHTS IN RABID REPETITION. COMPETING THOUGHTS WARRED AGAINST THE CONTINUITY OF THE SONG AS A WHOLE; THOUGHTS WHICH INVOLVED DESPERATE LONGINGS FOR THE OPEN, LOUD NARRATION TO CEASE. "Make it stop, make it stop, please make it stop," ECHOED WITHIN THE DARK, PRIVATE PORTIONS OF HER PSYCHE, BEGINNING TO OVERPOWER THE GUMMY BEAR SONG AS THE DOMINANT INTERNAL VOICE. SHE TOOK TO THE KNOWLEDGE NOW BEING SPILLED TO EVERYONE AROUND HER WITH EMBARRASSMENT AS SHE BEGAN TO RUN AWAY FROM HER NEW, MORE EXPERIENCED FRIENDS BEFORE SHE BEGAN TO OPENLY CRY.

ALAS, SHE WAS TOO LATE.

TEARS BEGAN TO SPILL FROM HALF-DEAD EYES AS LIZBETH COVERED HER EARS AGAINST THE RELENTLESS VOICE. "Stop it, stop it, STOP IT!" SHE SCREAMED, HEADING FOR THE STAIRS. LIZBETH WORRIED THAT THIS DISPLAY OF EMOTION AND PANIC WOULD MAKE HER LOOK UNFIT TO ASSOCIATE WITH REAL, LIVE ADVENTURERS, LIKE SHE WAS JUST SOME KID PLAYING PRETEND.

Outside, a war raged on between gravity, the strength of a Half-Elf not known for her raw physical prowess, and the uncertain proclivities of Wild Magic. A black bird commonly associated with carrying away the souls of the departed flew in broad circles, giving its signature croaks and caws, though the intent of any message it may have been willing to pass along was hard to ascertain by the masses.

LIZBETH REACHED THE TOP OF THE STAIRS, NEARLY IN A STATE OF HYSTERIA, THE START OF A SNOT BUBBLE IN ITS INFANCY THREATENING TO MANIFEST. SHE HARDENED HER EMOTIONS AS BEST SHE MIGHT BEFORE RUNNING OUT AND AWAY FROM EVERYONE INTO WHAT SHE THOUGHT MIGHT BE THE SAFETY OF THE TAPROOM. IT WAS AN UTTERLY MOOT POINT, FOR WHILE THE SITUATION WAS STILL COMPLETELY OUT OF HER CONTROL, JUST AS SUDDENLY AS THE OVERLY LOUD NARRATION HAD BEGAN...

...it stopped. Quiet returned to the cellar of the Coach House, much to Lizbeth's profound relief. Not everything was over, however, as Morty's eyes, such as he had eyes, kept venting bright, scintillating, multicolored lamplight.

Kathryn felt a little embarrassed to have just called Victoria's magic peak, and to them have it blow up in everyone's face. She was already on semi rough terms with her dragonborn friend. However, this seemed to only make things worse. For a bit he seemed tense... very tense. Then... relaxed. As if he had just gotten a full body massage. Kosara seemed to fair... differently. She seemed... almost unchanged. Now that she thought about it, so did Blackberry, and Victori- Where the fuck was Victoria?

Between the gummybear song and Victoria suddenly disappearing, between Kosara warning everyone about the rings. And with Kathryn still unsure what the hell was going on, Kathryn found herself worried for what future effects they would eventually see? Maybe it was under powered? Maybe it was something so minor it wasn't visible? Like... snacks in a pouch. A single one goes missing, its hard to tell if its small enough. "Lizbeth its going to be okay." Kathryn tried to say quietly to keep as few people drawn on her conversation as possible. "I can promise you I have done worse to draw unwanted attention to myself." Kathryn tried to joke.

In the moment of chaos, Lizbeth had rushed out the door trying to gain some distance. Kathryn worried with what was going on, that Lizbeth may not be safe alone. She also wanted to let Lizbeth know she didn't have to go through this alone. "Kosara is right, enough weird shite is happening right now. Don't touch anything evil looking, I am going after Lizbeth. The rest of you look for Victoria yeah? Maybe there is another room hidden here she got sent too." Or worse, maybe back to the main study? If she was a magically inclined person who did things I would rather people not see, a way to get back and forth from her discrete studies seemed best.

Rushing after her squire Kathryn didn't call out, she didn't even try to cut Lizbeth off. She just did what she could to keep up while attempting to sing the tune the small girl just sung. "Oh I'm a gummy bear!"" She attempted to sing, and to her credit better than she usually did. On the professional side, what a waste. On a friend to friend moment? It works. "Yes I'm a gummy bear, oh I'm a yummy tummy lucky wucky gummy bear! Oh a gummy gummy gummy bear!" She was also however unfamiliar with the song. She knew she was getting words wrong, but she tried to sing along trying to help drown out the thoughts. A part of her worried she was pushing too hard to help. Maybe the best thing to do was leave her alone? Maybe she was making it worse? Kathryn wanted to help though.

To BlackBerry, who was still playing catch up with the whole situation, Victoria had pulled out the wand and then simply vanished. He blinked rapidly at the spot where Victoria has been barely a second ago, fairly certain that she didn't know any invisibility spells and that the wand couldn't do that.

"Victoria? Victoria?" He spoke with some alarm until his gaze was pulled towards Morty who seemed to be glowing in all colours of the rainbow and several more. "What in the world?"

BlackBerry shook himself trying to get some grasp of what horrible affects had taken place on them all. Himself, he seemed unaffected apart from his...vanishing...cold. Ah.

"No, Young Lizbeth it was not you that was the cause of such things." BlackBerry had relinquished the door and frame to Lady Kathryn, and his attention was now on the girl. "Are you quite well? Does anything hurt at all?"

The voice surrounding the poor girl had clearly explained itself; 'HER INNERMOST THOUGHTS AND EVERY ACTION SHOUTED IN REAL-TIME NARRATIVE BY AN UNFAMILIAR MALE VOICE'. Thankfully the other three seemed to be less visibly affected, apart from Victoria who had simply vanished without a trace!

"Come now, we shall get this all sorted. I'm sure"

Blackberry tried to talk over the near deafening voice, tried to push back against the oncoming tide of doubt and self-ridicule already painfully overwhelming Young Lizbeth. The Narrator bellowed ever louder against Young Lizbeths protests, it filled the room with her thoughts, her doubts, her worries, filling it to the brim until the poor girl burst into tears under the strain. BlackBerry felt his own chest tighten in empathy for the poor girls suffering. He reached out ad took a step after her when she ran away from The Narrator. But Lady Kathryn, ever the friendly giant of the party, dashed passed him leaving instructions for the rest of them to keep on task.

In spite of his still fresh annoyance at her, Lady Kathryn ha the right idea; Victoria was still missing and the answers to all their questions could very well be right in front of them. A small part of him was thankful for Lizbeths absence at this moment in case there might be something ahead that would upset her further.

Kosara, he was encouraged to find, had already taken the initiative and started rummaging around the now revealed study. So BlackBerry took the initiative to try and find Victoria instead.

"Victoria? Are you still here?" He waved his arms around in case he hit her invisible form, and looking all around in case she had shrunk. Really there was no telling what could have befallen the poor woman. He looked towards the multicoloured swine. "...Victoria? No I wager even that to be most unlikely." BlackBerry wasn't quite sure what he was thinking.

While things seemed still and calm for the moment he still didn't let his guard down, keeping the fiery limbs ready for battle at his shoulders.

He stuck his head into the study. "Any sign of Victoria at all, Kosara?"

The moment the last stone gave way and Blackberry wrestled the frame free—inch by inch through firelit tendrils and grinding dust—the stale air of the hidden chamber exhaled into the cellar. The glow from within painted the doorway in a sullen red, a pulse of arcane light that danced off motes of drifting stone powder.

And the room beyond…
A magic circle dominated the floor—engraved deeply, illuminated from within by a contained crimson radiance. Runes circled its perimeter like watchful eyes; the center held a symbol that refused to settle into a single meaning. A rune atop a rune, maybe. Or something older. Something with teeth.

To the left: crates.
To the right: a table fitted with leather straps and metal cuffs—functional, unforgiving. Across the way: a lonely shelf of baubles and books.

It was a wizard’s workroom.
Or a prison.
Or both.

BlackBerry marveled at Daxos’s handiwork, stepping forward with due caution, tendrils pulling the door free like a surgeon removing a bone from a wound.

Then—
The magic surged.
A ripple.
A pulse.

A sudden wrongness in the air like pressure shifting before a cave-in. Lizbeth froze, the sudden narration of her every move and then her bolting, a streak of panic and instinct. Victoria blinked out of existence mid-breath, with no warning.

Daxos staggered, fingers curling into a fist as something unseen brushed across his senses—not a strike, not a spell, but like falling forward without moving. A tug on the mind. A whisper of displacement. His instincts screamed—trap, collapse, ambush, run—but decades of training and survival snapped hard against the rising tension. He drew himself up to his full height, slammed his boots into the stone for grounding, and let his voice tear through the chaos like a war horn.

“EVERYBODY—HOLD YER DAMN POSITIONS!”
The command cracked the air.

“Settle yerselves! Nae panickin’—nae runnin’—eyes up an’ hands where they should be! We’ll nae make sense o’ anythin’ if ye scatter like startled goats!”

The authority in his voice wasn’t loud for loudness’ sake—it was the tone of a dwarven tunnel captain calling orders during a cave tremor, one meant to cut through fear before fear made fools of everyone.

His gaze swept the room, sharp and assessing despite the churn in his gut.

“We keep calm, we take stock, an’ we do this proper. Nobody moves ‘less they’ve a mind tae be crushed, cursed, or worse. HOLD.”

He planted himself firmly at the threshold, one hand braced on the stone, the other hovering near his belt—steady, controlled, every sense straining.

The chaos would sort itself in moments. But only if someone stood still enough to anchor it, and that someone, for now,
was him.

Victoria felt a curious weightless sensation. It was coupled by the rushing whistle of air past her charmingly pointed ears, and an inexplicable lack of knowledge as to exactly how she found herself in this position; supine, aerial, and traveling downward at an impressive rate of speed. It occurred to Victoria that, logically, the fight-or-flight clarity that come with being put into a life-threatening situation like this was slowing time for her, and this was probably the reason for the confusing dilation of thought which kept her in the present. It also meant that, barring some sort of miraculous intervention, she was going to impact onto the hard packed ground and ice-pressed snow below. If she survived, this was going to hurt.

The last, frantic element of her rational thought flung out to her thrall, Morty, who trotted as fast as it might toward the front door of the Coach House. Morty wouldn't make it in time, obviously, nor could the poor dead creature hope to open the door without a relatively generous investment of its time to the task. But maybe the smoky, tusked boar might be able to point people in her direction, were she to lose consciousness - or worse. Past that final mental command, Victoria couldn't help but to let out a scream of self-preservative terror as she descended the last half of her fall, set to impact in the area between the stairs and the front door to the Taproom.

This scream was cut short, as one might expect. But Victoria did not hit ice, as expected. Just before the fall terminated, Victoria's world shifted again. Relative warmth and darkness engulfed her as she made solid connection with a horizontal plane of fitted hardwood planks, at the exact velocity which she would have hit the ground outside. The dramatic thud carried far within the timbers of the Coach House. Pain lanced across Victoria's whole body and her vision registered a bare instant of encompassing white, followed by darkness. It was maybe a second or two that consciousness came flooding back, and with it, the physical effects of the impact could be felt. Deeper red rimmed her lips and flew from her mouth in coughing droplets, forcing a single convulsion from her body. She was alive.

Victoria's eyes shot wide as she frantically lifted herself onto her side. Priorities shifted, and for the Bard, that meant a desperate scramble to open her violin case. A genuine sigh of relief shakily passed from her lungs, which might or might not have been punctured in her brush with misadventure. "It's safe," she breathed. "It's safe... good. Very good." The jolt was enough to get her to pay closer attention to her surroundings. Fireplace, down to embers. Chairs. A large bed. "...I do hope I didn't get too much blood on Kathryn's floor," she mused, trying not to laugh. Victoria steadied herself and dipped into some of her finite magical reserves, whispering melodic notes which drew upon the arcana of life forces, a glance at the other side of the coin from which she drew her more signature abilities. Life and death, the unlife which existed within the innumerable shades of grey between, these were all part of the same symphony, from which Victoria sampled but a small part. Her whisper grew stronger as she continued, bolder even, as the magic took effect. Fractures mended. Punctures closed. Victoria found herself made whole. Whole, and significantly more annoyed than usual.

Careful steps brought Victoria out of the upper floor, and onto the stairs which she descended with the utmost of care. Along the way, she straightened out her clothes as best she could with her hands and a liberal helping of Prestidigitation. When she entered the Taproom, she had the visible effects of her channeling magic upon her face; the darkness which surrounded her eyes like delicate cosmetics and spilled down her cheeks as melancholic tears. A line of blood remained on her face, descending from the corner of her mouth, but otherwise Victoria was just as flawless as ever.

It looked like the worst of the effects of the wild magic surge were over, so far as she could tell, and Victoria was anxious to get to business. She saw Lizbeth and Kathryn, and without any mention of the obvious events of the past few minutes, she got straight to it. "There was magic in that room," she announced, gesturing with the wand she was holding onto for the party. "I cannot say whether it was active or bound to items, but there is magic in that room. I saw it for a moment before I blinked away." Then the Bard regarded the state that Lizbeth was in, and and expression on Kathryn's face. Something else transpired here, maybe as harrowing as her little adventure, maybe more. "Take some time if you need to collect yourself. Everything will still be there. When you feel up to it, I can show you where I saw the auras."

Morty fell in line behind its mistress, taking to her heel with the loyalty that only a mindless thrall could. Victoria absently reached out and pat her undead porcine companion's head. It was time to get back to work.

Narrator man was weird, but not that bad, Kosara thought, even as Lizbeth ran away crying. Maybe it was a bit much for her still, by all accounts she was new to this whole madness, but unusual narrators were just the tip of the mountain that was weirdness and chaos in an adventurer’s life so Lizbeth, should she pursue career in adventures, was going to have to eventually learn to take it in stride. Besides she herself didn’t mind the voice per say, he had that very good narratory voice that was perfect for telling stories of great and terrible natures… and besides it wasn’t like he revealed anything actually embarrassing from Lizbeth’s head. Ohh hey, Kathryn ran after Lizbeth too.

Returning to the other issue at hand which was looking around the room and not seeing a bardly bard barding around.” Not that I can see her… She’s not shrunken either as far as I can see.” She quipped and nodded before turning her eyes on Daxos, arching an eyebrow at him in questioning manner as he was now apparently standing to guard the entrance and demanding everybody calm down and not move until calmness happen as far as Kosara could tell.

“Are you REALLY going to stop me for going out to look for my friend?” She asked in pointed deceptively sweet voice and narrowed eyes, a thin smile on her face. She kept the stare for a moment before it vanished.” Fair enough… Lizbeth and Kathryn would probably find V if she’s upstairs or outside… I HOPE.” But that said the events entirely derailed Kosara’s investigation into the things into the room, but to be fair your friends vanishing was a good distractions… considering the possibilities.

Worst case scenarios where V was teleported into solid stone or under the earth to suffocate to death without being able to escape because of wild magic were present in the tiefling’s head, but she made a choice to not voice them, kind of how she didn’t voice the scenarios where V was now a hitchhiker in somebody’s head or she was being teleported into the nine hells… or the abyss… or in an evil lair to some dastardly villain… or a visit to the shadowfell or the feywilds… actually those last two wouldn’t be too bad an experience. Still deadly, but interesting things to see and interesting beings to meet. Of course there was also the option that V could be hundreds of miles away somewhere… up, down, left, right or sideways through the planes. She probably wasn’t invisible seeing as she hadn’t signaled in any way… Hopefully she reappears!

But now for other important points of interest. The occupied cage, Kosara had noted it, but didn’t have a chance to react sooner as chaos happened. But now since she wasn’t going to go barrel through Daxos to go out, she might as well investigate. What was obvious however was that Liz’s grandfather was into some pretty hinky stuff and also brought to mind the fact that nobody has been here for months which as she neared the cage brought some pretty bad feeligs.

With Victoria gone, the basement in chaos, the the young girl Kathryn was beginning to see like a sister having a very justifiable nervous breakdown, it was becoming clear that Kathryn was a bit out of her own depth. Though she would help where she could, her abilities with all things arcana were limited to useless. Even her understanding of runic magic was rather poor by comparison to practiced experts. She did hear the call from Daxos to hold position, but by that time she was more worried about Lizbeth than her own well being.

Lizbeth seemed to have slowed down some, enough for Kathryn to catch up. "Its going to be okay Lizbeth." Kathryn stopped her own pace. If the young girl was really panicking this badly she didn't want to push her too far. "If you'd like you can run up to my room? It may be far enough to uh... limit whats going on." Kathryn said sheepishly. "I'm not really an expert at magic. Sorry..." Kathryn sighed keeping her distance. When Victoria came in, Kathryn felt a bit revealed. Though Victoria was wrong on the wild magic surge, she was still the expert on the matter. "Just um... just a bit of magic yeah?" Kathryn said in jest. Mistakes happened. She wouldn't hold this against V. There have definitely been times Kathryn had made a mistake or two.

"let me know if I can lend a hand V, otherwise I'll be here." Turning to Lizbeth, she seemed very spent. She seemed weak and tired out. In need of support. Kathryn was not the usual for physical affection of any kind. It was just outside of her comfort zone most of the time. But Lizbeth seemed like she really needed it. "Its going to be okay Lizbeth." Kathryn offered up before stepping up to Lizbeth, getting down on her knee, and giving her young squire a heavy hug. The hug felt nice from Kathryn's side of things. Until... she felt different. Like a huge rush had left her, escaping to get away from her, and entered into Lizbeth. It felt... almost like lightning jolting between her and Lizbeth. "Oh my gods Lizbeth are you okay?!" Kathryn jumped back hoping to avoid a repeat of the effect.

Weather: The weather outside is brisk and windy, with gusts carrying the essence of the season across white, icy drifts and lows. It's noticeably better than it was early this morning, but it's still uncomfortable. The weather has ticked up juuuust a bit; enough for icicles to start drip, drip, dripping slowly but steadily and the snow cover to begin to recede. The ground is still covered, but the topmost layers have lost their fluffy luster and the stuff upon moderately trod areas has been packed into heavy translucence, potentially threatening to become slush if the temperature keeps trending upward. But this only applies to those of you who are on the outside, which none of our stalwart adventurers are at present.

Time: Afternoon. One might say early afternoon, though this progresses slowly along the great wheel of cosmology.

Ambience: The intervening moments have done little to nothing to change the nature of the cellar and secret room. The cellar remains the very example of cool to cold stability for the purposes of storage. It does so very well, and the place is well stocked.

The newly revealed "study" maintained what might be described as a magic circle, shedding a dim, localized glow upon the immediate area. It was festooned with runes of uncertain meaning about its circumference and formed a shape, also of uncertain meaning, also shedding a dim glow. The only entrance or exit from the room is the now empty doorframe, the door from which was just cracked open and set to the side. Beyond the now gaping opening, visible in the dim light, were the same stone walls that lined the cellar, a smallish rack of shelves upon the far wall which contained sundries and a few books, and one might even detect an irregular stack of crates next to the door as one went in. More ominously, a large table with metal and leather restraints dominated one side of the room.

Entering the room revealed three holding cells, the nearest one being occupied by a husk of a human-sized creature, sitting in a perfectly still fetal position. The other side of the room bore something more akin to a work desk, replete with all of the things one might see on the deck of a dedicated clerk or administrator of come kind. One may assume that the subject matter was more scandalous than wine sale projections or labor standards. The other two cells contain simple straw bedding that looks like it has seen better days.




The Secret Study, such as it was, remained virtually untouched by those assembled, one may only assume the burst of wild magic being the culprit. Yet somehow, the cursory glances remaining to those who may search yield nothing beyond the realm of the obvious. The drama of the moment seemed to have left the immediate area and traveled back into the main room of the Coach House, which makes sense because the highest levels of drama seem to follow the young Lizbeth L'Rose like they're fast friends.

Speaking of the Heiress in green armor, she had shed her paler, colder exterior in favor of flush cheeks and features which spoke of warm vitality. Whether this was an option or a thing forced upon her by circumstance was potentially up for debate, but she looked every bit like a living, breathing girl. She had composed herself well enough almost the very moment that the baritone narrator stopped trying to spill her every thought and action out for the world to observe. The return of color to Lizbeth's face brought with it the look of apparent embarrassment, which was extraordinarily short in nature as she was given calm, physical reassurance by her Knightly mentor.

Unfortunately, this merely served to act as catalyst for the unresolved consequences of the wild magic upon Kathryn. A surge of energy rushed from the tall and imposing Knight and into the form of the sometimes-deadish Lizbeth. She was able to recognize that something was happening, and even braced against it, but was unable to stave off the effects by the slimmest of margins. "What happened?" she breathed, still feeling the crackling of magic over her like tiny, eldritch ants. "What did this do?" Lizbeth was aware that Kathryn was rushing headlong into checking up on her, but waved it off. "Whatever it is, it's on me now, but, but... I don't feel any different. I don't think anything happened. Do I look different?" The young apprentice looked equal parts relieved and nervous.

Victoria's return helped with the "relieved" portion of her psyche, as she was, to Lizbeth's estimation at least, the closest person to an authority on magic, curses, and the like, even if her last estimation of anything arcane blew up in their faces. Almost literally, at that. But she wasn't going to wait around for the Bard's advice to take time and collect herself. No, she gave a rather obstinate "I'm fine. Really," and scrubbed away what remained of tears with the heels of her hands. She fell in step behind Morty, going back down those stairs. If this whole ordeal was like the last one, as she heard from the Adventurers, then the danger had passed with the one jolt of energy and all should be okay. That made sense, right? Of course it did!

And if she was being honest with herself and anyone around her, Lizbeth had just burst into tears when the first negative things happened to her while she was hanging out with actual adventuring professionals this day. It was embarrassing, almost completely so. She was going back down. Besides, her grandfather supposedly left her with stuff down there, and she was going to see it firsthand. Whatever else it was, this was literally her birthright.

Daxos seemed to have his head screwed on right in the aftermath of whatever had happened to them all he called for calm in the emotional storm around them. It would have worked too had everyone not already acted upon their instincts of 'Nosey Adventurers' by immediately moving and running about.

"The effort is appreciated, Daxos." BlackBerry patted the mans shoulder. "I would however suggest you could have better luck herding cats. Regardless. Currently we are missing our esteemed bard, and Young Lizbeth is feeling rather upset."

Blackberry added, while resuming his hunt for said Bard by looking through the shelves, between barrels and even lifting a few boxes despite Kosaras statement Victoria wasnt there. "Lady Kathryn has gone to help the later. While i continue the hunt for the former, might I suggest yourself and Kosara investigate the study?" There was more than a touch of worry in his voice. He then shouted, "Victoria? Where are you?"

When BlackBerry received no response he began to chew his cheek, his fingers began tap, tap, tapping feverishly against his thumb. Where had Victoria gone? He was certain she wasn't invisible, and even she had shrunk down someone would still have seen her wouldn't they? Kosara seemed certain Victoria wasn't down in the basement anymore which left only one other option...she had been teleported somewhere.

Like a bolt, he dashed up the stairs, reassured his idea was sound following after Morty who had just beat him to the first step by a hair, he arrived to the scene of Lady Kathryn comforting Lizbeth thankfully without any disembodied commentary. A small part of his mind not focused on restraining rising panic noted this change with relief that whatever strange things going on were temporary at least.

"Can anyone else hear a crow?" Tilting his head to the sound.

Alarmingly this sound was then followed by a short scream, and then even more alarmingly by a loud 'thud' from above.

"What was that?" BlackBerry asked the other two while looking up to the rafters as if they would answer. "Would you suppose that?..." A pause followed the question, which was then shortly answered by Victoria making her grand entrance. BlackBerry let out a releaved sigh. "Ah there you are Victoria. Whatever happened? One moment you were with us and the next you had vanished. Are you well? Nothing broken at all? Good gracious you are bleeding." He pointed to his own mouth, signalling to Victoria where he had seen the blood on her face as he continued to fuss about her. "At the very least we can say the rest of us have not had such exciting afflictions."

Only after assuring that Victoria was actually okay, likely needing to be verbally beaten back, did he relent and step back.

"Well if we are all ready and feeling well enough for it." BlackBerry cast a sympathetic eye over to Lizbeth still under Lady Kathryns reassuring care. "Daxos AND Kosara both otherwise appear well and unaffected, or at the very least not negatively so. Both ar-ah-Ah ACHOOO!"

BlackBerry momentarily disappeared behind a flash of blue lightning, fiery limbs flaring wildly for a second before fading to a pathetic dim shimmer on the world. BlackBerry once again felt, and looked, as if he had been hit by a wagon.

"Oh a pox on it all." He sniffled.

Daxos stood rooted where he was for a heartbeat longer than strictly necessary.
The chaos ebbed—Lizbeth’s frantic narration cutting off, Victoria’s presence snapping back into being as abruptly as it had vanished—and in the space left behind, memory rushed in to fill the void.

Stone shifting where it shouldnae. Air movin’ when it’s meant tae be dead still. Magic misbehavin’ without warnin’. Aye… ah’ve not felt this before.

Deep places.
Collapsed galleries.

Runes scratched by mad hands that didn’t care who wandered too close.
His jaw tightened as the old reflex surged—heart rate spiking, muscles coiling, vision narrowing. For an instant he was back underground, listening for the sound that meant the ceiling was about to come down or the dark was about to start moving.

Daxos closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose.

Slow.
Measured.
Counted.

When he opened them again, the edge was gone—filed down into something sharper, calmer.

He gave a short nod to BlackBerry, acknowledging the man’s words without ceremony, then stepped fully across the threshold.
The temperature changed first. Cooler. Drier. Old air sealed away from the world above.

Then the light—red, localized, unnatural—casting long shadows that bent wrong against the stone.
Daxos didn’t rush.
He catalogued.

The magic circle on the floor: engraved deep, not painted. Permanent. Old enough that the stone had settled around it. The runes weren’t decorative—they were functional, evenly spaced, deliberate. Not ritual flourish. Containment.

Nae quick spell. Nae panic work. This was built tae last.

His eyes moved to the restraints on the table. Practical placement. Wrists and ankles positioned for leverage and immobility, not torture for its own sake. Whoever designed it cared about keeping someone still.
Shelving at the far wall—books arranged by size, not subject. A sign of someone who returned to them often. Sundries placed for reach, not display.
Crates to the left.

The walls themselves drew his attention last—and longest.
Different stone. Different cut. Subtle seams where new met old, worked in a style he knew in his bones.

Duergar hands. Or someone taught by them. Clever bastards… always hid their strength in the structure, no’ the ornament.

He committed it all to memory.

Angles.
Distances.
Weak points.
What could be moved.
What shouldn’t be touched.

Only then did he straighten slightly, rolling his shoulders as if shrugging off the weight of the room.

Whatever this place is… it wasnae built for comfort. An’ it wasnae built for accident.

His suspicion hardened—not fear, not panic, but the steady, watchful caution of a man who had survived places far worse than this. And he was already thinking about what he might need…

when this room decided to make its next move.

The steady tap-tap-tap of Victoria's boots upon the wooden floor of the Coach House, followed by the almost equally steady clop-clop-clop of her thrall's smoky hooves. They reached the top of the stairs, prompting the slightest pause from the Bard that she may address her powerfully strong, Knightly companion, "I'll likely always need your strength of arm, Kathryn." It was said with reassurance, and in no small part to focus her attention on a time just before she did whatever she accidentally did to Lizbeth. The girl seemed fine; they could sort it out later. Victoria's touch of ambition was flaring just then, coupled with the deep smouldering annoyance that gave her eyes a bright, sharp aspect, like her crystal blues could cut stone at a glance. It might have slightly overridden her broader sense of empathy in the moment, making her earlier words seem more performative than sincere. Nevertheless, she wasn't stopping any longer than she had to. Victoria had seen things before she was whisked away by random magic, and that, to put it simply, was something she was highly motivated to sort out. She was already on the stairs by the time she realized that Lizbeth was following her.

She caught Baronfjord's gaze, and apparently unaware that she still had blood streaking her face (until mentioned), gingerly brought her hand up and touched the affected area. No, the quick healing spell had worked - this was just a lack of full cleanup from earlier. She sighed. First a little mild manipulation, followed by ambition, a touch of apathy, and now she was irrevocably falling into her primary personality flaw: Vanity. She might have made a fine servant of the Jasidan church, had she the motivation for it. Victoria did carry one of their coins in her hatband, however, which did suggest an association of some kind even if it was of the most informal sort. Nevertheless, vanity did prompt her to carefully dab away the more arterial nature of her facial coloring.

In an attempt to maintain her fleeting sense of pride, she addressed the Dragonborn fellow directly. "Well, Mr. Chedgusah, my estimation of the Wild Magic was ...inaccurate." Her eyes were coldly upon his, with just a hint of anger flaring underneath. Not at him, even though his face held an accusation the last time she gazed upon it, but at her own folly for having missed what she had. She left her words at that, but did quickly avert her gaze and return to the hidden study. Morty, ever the loyal thrall, followed at her heel.

Standing near the center of the room, the Bard took quick stock of where she saw the briefest of flashes of magic in the briefest flashes of presence within the room from earlier. There were more than one, obviously, including the dim red glow of inset circles and runes upon the floor. But this didn't draw her main piece of attention. Behind the haphazard pile of wooden boxes was a curious sight, though she really didn't know until she got there - an offset piece of stone, slightly different in appearance to the stone around it. "I cannot believe this," she murmured. Her dagger found its way solidly into her hand as she slipped behind the crates. The "stone" upon the wall among the other heavy, fitted monuments of stability was more of a tile, designed to look almost exactly like the actual stones around it. Behind this tile was a hollow space. Hollow, but not empty.

"Monsieur Arnaud L'Rose," she began, "wasn't a talented magician, I do not believe." She looked back to Lizbeth, clarifying, "I don't mean to insult his memory, Lizbeth. I promise you. Let me explain: Your grandfather was obviously studying magic, like a hedge wizard. But it doesn't look like he ever learned the basics. It's like ... like he got a book of spells and theory that was way too advanced for him to follow, and he deconstructed a few useful things. Like this."

Victoria raised what appeared to be irregularly cut crystal set with delicate metal fittings, hanging from a braided leather cord. It was hollow, and within this reservoir sloshed a red liquid that suited the glow of the runes upon the floor all too well. "I believe that he hoped to hide the things of magic in this room, but was unaware that simple divination magic can penetrate wood, and even stone if it isn't too thick." She withdrew a scroll case and a small bundle wrapped in a square of cloth, as well. "But he tried to hide these for a reason. They might belong to you now, Lizbeth."

The Bard looked around the room once more, her mind shifting to remember exactly where the other arcane auras were located.

It appears the Coachhouse and maybe the entire vineyard as a whole was rife filled with suspicious activities, potentially evil secrets, tragic pasts and even more evil secrets that may or may not involve an past undead occupation, an ongoing undead infiltration and an impending undead assault. As a whole the whole regiou could have it better, she supposed. Still the old Mr L’Rose’s part in all of this was still up to debate as more and more revelations were happening that didn’t paint a pretty picture. Couple that with the stuff she uncovered at the archives and things were definitely not up to good for the old guy. As in if he was alive, Kosara was going to have some VERY pointed questions to him. The tiefling considered the distinct possibility that he had made deals with nefarious powers and the consequences were catching up to the whole bloodline. It would explain some of the records… The only possible saving grace was that no fae was involved…

Now Kosara didn’t want Fae involved in anything, everybody only said Fae were bad infuence and to never make deal with them. Now she never had met any, but she trusted the stories she was told enough, especially the part to never bargain with your unborn children. Though she still wondered why they would want an newly born infant child from mortal. It was one of the things she had planned to ask if she ever stumbled upon a fae of some variety and they were willing to answer a few academic questions NOT for deals of course… also she wondered how they dealt with situation where the subject of the deal couldn’t have children as Kosara was aware that some people just couldn’t for whatever reason… or if they were never in relationships. The curiosity was great and she hoped one they to sate it. Maybe a wizard academy somewhere had the answers in their tomes, but she didn’t have access to those, she supposed she could ask Grandpa for it, but it didn’t feel right and would take out of the joy of the adventure, so she didn’t… for now.

In any case, the party had scattered once more, V and vanished, Liz and Kath had ran away, it seemed Berry ran after them, leaving her with Daxos in the hidden room… and the body in the cage. She had no idea if it was alive, dead or unlife quite yet. Given how long it must have been locked here, she was leaning towards dead or undead, but you never knew with magic. Still, she was just about to start focusing on investigation once more, putting all the side thoughts away and putting her mind back on track when V stormed back in like she owned the place with grace and penache! It was very impressive and glorious and Kosara gave a polite applause as the bardiest bard she knew strolled in. Kosara realized she really needs to learn Minor Illusions so she could create visual effects one of these days. Still at least V seemed to have some information to deliver to show for her disappearing act which still made Kosara curious where the bard ended too.

“So he hid magical items here, makes sense, it’s a rather well hidden room and it’s easy enough to access if you have the know and the means to. Did you sense anything about the cages and the circle though?” She asked, voice filled with curiosity once more derailed from her investigation.” Also where did you go when you vanished anyways?”

Lizbeth seemed... Okay? The voice seemed to be gone, and the young lady of the lands didn't seem to explode so that was also good. Kathryn in this particular moment looked almost as if she had accidentally backhanded Lizbeth and she had blacked out from the sheer force. BUT! She was still standing, and whatever magic went from Kathryn to Lizbeth seemed to have... not done anything. "I don't... know what happened. You don't look too different? You look less..." Dead. "Like your other form. Maybe the magic is defective? Or maybe the effects were really minuscule?" Did they really luck out in that regard? It would be nice to get a win like that.

As everyone returned to the basement, Kathryn followed and attempted to join about with the others too investigate the room. At first everyone seemed to be sorting out whatever their afflictions were. Though when BB had Sneezed Lightning?! Kathryn had jumped back. "are..... are you good dude?" Kathryn asked as she relaxed herself again. At the very least Kosara and Daxos seemed to not have been too severely effected by the wild magic surge. As Victoria explained her findings, Kathryn did her best to follow along with the bard's understanding of magic. Sure, Kathryn could be considered a smart cookie, however, her understanding of the arcane was limited too "Oh wasn't that pretty can you do that again?". It wasn't the best to say the least. Even her own runic magic she didn't really understand that well. She had learned the basics many, many years ago. And had neglected her studies since.

Kathryn though was not mentioned by name, felt a little called out with the retelling of Arnaud L'Rose's understanding of magic. It seemed that it overlapped a lot with Kathryn's understanding. Though at least Kathryn had learned the basics. More than ten years ago. But still. "So its not only supposed to be physically hidden, but also hidden in terms of magic?" Kathryn said before looking over at the items V was pulling out. She had some anxiety about them. A lot of crazy dangerous magic out here. While the others worked on that, Kathryn figured she has had pretty decent luck on desks so far. How hard could it be to look through a desk? Clearly not that hard right? Well, Kathryn had stepped aside to search the desk, and after a brief search, much of what she found she either couldn't make a lot of sense of, nor could she find anything that seemed to notable. Deciding that was a dead end, she then decided that being the party's Rune Expert, she could 100% handle something like the big scary magical symbol on the floor! She was alas, the Runic expert of the party.

Turning her attention to the floor, she already began to feel far more confident. NOW! She was beginning to make sense of things! Now! With an understanding of her rather limited proprietary scope of magic! She could lend a hand! "Well... A couple of these runes look like they could be for protection enchantments. Or maybe sine sort if divination magic." Welp. That is what happens when you skim the basics, skip all the middle steps with all the context and explanations, and then jump into the early tiers of rather insane runic magic. Though that would explain why the first few times she used her powers she barfed up a colorful rainbow. "I...don't have much else..." She said a bit defeated but to no one in particular.

BUT! She did have another idea to work with. "Hey V? You're good with uh.... dead things. Right?" Kathryn said still uncomfortable with the term necromancer. "Can you make the dead guy work for you? Answer questions? If it dispels again like in the other cellar we found I'm sure we could.... figure something out?" Kathryn said before trying to awkwardly do a neck snapping motion as if some poor victim was within her arms, building up the motion for several seconds before finishing. And stopping just short as she decided that maybe it was a bit too much for the conversation.

"Hmm... Another idea we could try." Kathryn spoke up, deciding what of her gear she was willing to risk parting with just incase something happened. Opting for the old hand axe that had not been magically infused with silver, she pulled it out, and let it drop into the runic circle like shape. Only for... Nothing to happen. "Well, worth a shot yeah?" Kathryn joked before reaching down to pick up the aging tool.