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[h2][color=darkorchid][i][b]Victoria Belmont[/b][/i][/color][/h2][i][b][color=9932cc]Half-Elf, Bard, Level 5[/color][/b][/i]
[color=9932cc][i][b]HP:[/b][/i][/color] 28 / 33	[color=9932cc][i][b]Armor Class:[/b][/i][/color] 16	[color=9932cc][i][b]Conditions:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[color=9932cc][i][b]Location:[/b][/i][/color] E6
[color=9932cc][i][b]Action:[/b][/i][/color] Spellcasting: [i](Shatter)[/i]
[color=9932cc][i][b]Bonus Action:[/b][/i][/color] [color=black][b]Morty[/b][/color]
[color=9932cc][i][b]Reaction:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
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[right][img]https://i.ibb.co/ZzgLdXRt/Victoria-Alt-8-ss2.png[/img][/right]
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	Victoria saw a flash of wood and metal just prior to her sight going fully white. It was a struggle to hold concentration to her Faerie Fire spell. This was not a thing which the Bard was especially good at, as she had mainly trained her dexterity, her mind, and her unparalleled talent, as opposed to her ability to take a hit. As good as the was at many things, this was not counted among them. It surprised her that, when her vision cleared, she mentally held a tendril of the spell intact. This was enough to maintain the effect upon the surroundings and the beastie in the cell. 

	But enough was too gods damned much. Fresh blood ran down the side of her head and onto her collar. While this wasn't specifically her [i]favorite[/i] fitted coat, the garb she wore was nevertheless a lovely piece of bespoke clothing, covered over with her new, highly prized acquisition of a black-and-gold pashmina shawl. The fact that it was taken from an animated corpse notwithstanding, it was absolutely lovely and highly expensive. And she just sullied it with her own blood. Cold anger flushed her cheeks, which bore the black, tear-like markings of her Bardic magics manifesting within her. 

	It wasn't just the shawl, though. Nor was it her fancy purple top which now bore stains of arterial crimson. There was a certain indignance about being whacked in the head with a shoe, yes, but really, it was the screaming. The constant, melody-less wail of a thing which would not shut up was annoying far beyond her head wound. Fire beats fire, or so some sages have suggested. Maybe sound beats sound. Victoria let her violin bow drop from her strings and swept her arms out to her sides, gathering up a lungful of air and releasing it in one of the most bracing, hauntingly gorgeous vocalizations one might hear in their lifetimes. Her crystal-blue eyes flashed with brilliant, arcane understanding as harmonizing sounds began to manifest inside the cell with the backing of the Weave and the strength of Victoria's personality, fracturing that which resided therein. The creature ceased movement and fell apart in a series of loud beaks, like splintering ice in a stone room. 

	 At least the screaming stopped.

	
[@Shoe Thief] Huzzah! Kathryn is up next!