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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] 33 / 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] Avonshire Township (Hayloft)
[color=9932cc][i][b]Action:[/b][/i][/color] Spellcasting [i](Prestidigitation)[/i] 
[color=9932cc][i][b]Bonus Action:[/b][/i][/color] [color=black][b]Morty[/b][/color], [color=dimgray][b]Nox[/b][/color]
[color=9932cc][i][b]Reaction:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
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[right][img]https://i.ibb.co/G4Q5dMgC/Victoria-Twilight-Screenshot.png[/img][/right]
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	[color=9932cc]"The hayloft?"[/color] began Victoria, skeptically. She remembered her way from the southern gate and could tell that there were only a couple familiar places in the direction that Baronfjord chose. She was prepared to make some snarky comment about Neil & Bob's Public House, which was within sight of this place and had actual beds to sleep upon even if they were in a common area. But Bob's place wasn't the intended destination. It was the hayloft. In winter. Victoria started at her companion and fellow adventurer for a long moment, then let out a breathy, [color=9932cc]"Very well. Why not? This should only be for one night, anyway."[/color] They had been able to ward off the cold of autumn in that place well enough, so Victoria surmised that they might find something between survival and comfort within the hayloft, even now. 

        The interior of the hayloft seemed quiet, just as it had been before. The same barrels upon the same stone floor, the same cart in the corner, and the same lift system for light cargo and hay bales. Up top, from her vantage, the same brazier that kept them warm, but different hay bales. Or at least different stacks, as it was rather difficult to distinguish one bundle of compressed fodder from the next. 

        Victoria's breath comdensed into the loft's still air as she carefully guided her errand cart off of the wagon and onto the lift. Some minor exertion upon a length of thick rope brought her cart, and her Morty, within fetching distance of the upper loft area. But before making her ascent to set up her borrowed campsite, she looked to Baronfjord, and then to the wagon, suggesting, [color=9932cc]"The man across the street at the farrier; charming fellow named Fields - and I do use the word 'charming' [i]particularly[/i] loosely here - knows that we have a stabling voucher with Fort Darenby. He can make sure our noble beast of burden is warm and cared for. If you would do the honors, please?"[/color]
        
        In the meantime, Victoria climbed the ladder to the upper level and began to set up their hayloft encampment as best she might, moving bales to spots strategic for keeping heat close while limiting the possibility of the lit brazier causing a catastrophic fire. She assembled appropriate tinder, kindling, and put what firewood remained in accessible stacks next to the brazier for use, but did not ignite anything as of yet. From her personal cart, Victoria produced two bottles of wine taken from behind the bar, back at the Coach House. And debated dipping into her non-perishables for supper. 

        [color=9932cc]"Baronfjord, my good sir, how would you prefer to handle this evening? We could attempt to speak with Monsieur L'Rose this evening, and see what that caravan is about, as its inexorably in our path to the cemetery. Or we might try tomorrow when we're fresh, which has its own drawbacks if we're pursuing secrecy. Whichever, we have a more pressing decision to come to: Do we dine in the loft, or do we get something warm from Bob's place across the thoroughfare, hmm?"[/color] An almost mischievous smile played across Victoria's face, as she had a preferred option from the bunch, but kept herself open should his opinion lead elsewhere.