[center]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/center][center][img]https://i.ibb.co/WvZTwJ26/winter-vineyard.jpg[/img][/center] [center][img]https://i.ibb.co/vXD6Q0t/Update-Text.png[/img][/center][center]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/center] [center][hider=Coach House][img]https://i.ibb.co/BVvx6LH2/Coach-House.jpg[/img][/hider][/center] [center]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/center] [u]Weather[/u]: Slightly heavier snow than during the hour or so that Tea was supposed to last. The wind isn't particularly bad by itself, but as the temperature lowers and snowflakes get a little broader, it's more than noticeable. Still not a proper snowfall, though one can tell that it isn't far off. [u]Time[/u]: Late afternoon. The first mealtime past Luncheon has officially (by Halfling standards) passed, that being Tea, and after the lengthy item identifications and introductions to new and exciting realms of conversation, we have moved much closer to dinner. But yes, late afternoon sums it up fine. Maybe "prevening," if you're feeling more transitional about it. [u]Ambience[/u]: Shadows lengthen outside, even as the light dampens somewhat within the Taproom. While everything is fully stocked, there remain the mundane tasks of personal upkeep from hour to hour. Luckily, in the Coach House, this is easier than many other places. Oil lamps and a dwindling hearth fire provide flickering, but adequate light for one's needs. Only occasional gusts of wind can be heard against the walls, promising a waiting chill for those who exit, but thankfully it is nothing like the recent winter storm. This is a comfortable, fully provisioned spot; excellent to wait out the season within. It almost makes one forget about the remains in the cellar. [center][color=darkgray][h2]*****[/h2][/color][/center] [color=darkgray]"If everyone is done?"[/color] half asked, half observed Lizbeth, making a simple gesture toward the table of magical goodies. She gathered up the remaining items, noting that the people she was sharing a roof with did not immediately scramble to squeeze every last drop of loot from the haul as quickly as possible. [color=darkgray]"If you need this stuff to help you, we can talk about lending or something. You're helping me too with this, right?"[/color] Nevertheless, and with a touch of wonder, Lizbeth took up the last two wands - the Ilexxian Taper and the Wand of Disturbing Smiles, and added them to her growing set of personal equipment. For a girl who just fell in with an adventuring party, she had amassed a formidable set of equipment, which might have been fitting, considering the fact that she was thrust unbidden into the world of magic, and was training martial skills with a noble-born Knight and a Duergar of uncertain history. Her armor additions slid into place seamlessly, an example of the talent of its crafter, changing her ankheg breastplate into a solid set of half plate armor, all made of the cured, treated, glossy green chitin which made it exceptionally light and quite strong. It matched perfectly with her leaf themed shield, and now her circlet. The short, curved sword liberated from her grandfather's study didn't match with the overall esthetic, but it did pair with the kard dagger she had claimed earlier. The crystal vial around her neck was filled with her own blood and lightly pulsed with her very life force, a thing which apparently only she could bond with. And now, added to her belt were two wands. She was [i]far[/i] better equipped than any beginning Adventurer had a right to be, and she wasn't even one. She was technically still a child, and an heiress to a cursed wine fortune. Regardless, it was apparent that she was not without defenses. Just experience. Perhaps that lack of experience was what made her turn much paler when the idea of a child bride scenario was mentioned, and not her penchant for "playing dead." Between that and the idea that Frostval might be the occasion for the apex of the horror, thoughts were considered. Lizbeth coldly made an observation, [color=darkgray]"Frostval isn't the last holiday of winter. In... in the Vineyard, I mean. I turn fifteen a couple of weeks after that."[/color] The topic of what age constituted adulthood in the region of Avonshire had come up in conversation. According to local custom, that was still a year further away. Urmdrus, yet still the object of questioning but not showing any objections to it, took to Baronfjord's further query with as much gusto as he was apparently able to demonstrate. [color=darkgray][b]"Everything."[/b][/color] It might have been a question, for the way he spoke the single word. [color=darkgray][b]"Built much. Sheds. Tools. Hmm. Built Study - part of. Fixed much. Made door, Distillery. Made distilling equipment - some. Made gravestones for L'Rose family."[/b][/color] Urmdrus went through a decent enough list of things he had built or fixed over time, mostly in general terms. It seemed that he had been on the land for quite a while, and his hand had been involved in a lot of the maintenance and expansion of the vineyard. [color=darkgray][b]"Once made stone cellar covers. Long storage. Never placed. Don't know where they are. Was long ago. Before..."[/b][/color] he motioned again in Lizbeth's direction. The Mosswaters were still listening to the conversations afoot with interest keenly invested. Kathryn's insistence that they not repeat anything heard in the Coach House was met with a wink and a nod from Barbal, who was pitching a mild grin at being involved. That grin started to falter as realizations hit him. Tarace made an exaggerated motion of pantomiming locking his mouth with a key and tossing it. Barbal regarded his partner with concern replacing his mirth, saying, [color=darkgray][b]"Tarace, my dearest and [i]very good friend[/i], I want you to take our things back to the farm and keep yourself safe, okay? Just do it."[/b][/color] The last sentence in response to a not-quite-uttered objection on Tarace's part. He then turned to the adventuring party. [color=darkgray][b]"What you're saying is, I'm going to have horrible nightmares because I drank that really nice hooch over there, and it's related to all the dead people walking around, like you owe them something. That's just [i]perfect[/i]."[/b][/color] He sighed, resigned to his course of action. [color=darkgray][b]"Well then, I hope you make a tidy supper and have a spare bed. There's no sense in coming back out here in the morning, if I dream something useful."[/b][/color] Barbal rose and meandered his way back over to the cask of brandy. [color=darkgray][b]"In for a penny..."[/b][/color] he mused, refilling his teacup. [color=darkgray][b]"Oh, and I take four eggs with my breakfast. Cheese if you have it."[/b][/color]