Sigil

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@rivaan@Shoe Thief@Sigil@Arty Fox@Archangel89

Without mincing words, the effects on Kosara, Daxos, and Baronfjord will cease at the end of this cycle. Kathryn's is ongoing, as is Victoria's, and Morty's. Stuff is working differently for different effects, which as we're seeing (or are about to see, eventually) isn't always for the best of everyone involved. Apart from that, please continue with what you're doing, and of course get with me in the Discord for rulings, resolutions, and die rolls. Questions! Also for questions.

Best of luck with the upcoming.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Coach House

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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.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Victoria Belmont Half-Elf, Bard, Level 5 HP: 33 / 33 Armor Class: 16 Conditions: N/A Location: Coach House (Cellar) -> Elsewhere Action: Using the Wand of Magic Detection Bonus Action: Familiar stuff, Morty Reaction: Oops.

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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.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@rivaan@Shoe Thief@Sigil@Arty Fox@Archangel89

Hi again, all! Let's skip past the formalities and I'll just explain what you want to know about. To start, yes, Victoria blew the Arcana roll and the idea that this was probably safe was, while a good assumption backed by sound logic, just not true. Baronfjord was correct in his guess that another Wild Magic Surge as incoming. So, what happened to you all? I'll tell you what I can.

Kosara: Suddenly has immense perceptive skills. Darkness looks like day, you can see minute detail.
Baronfjord: Suddenly feels athletic. Advantage on all Str, Con, and Dex rolls.
Daxos: Suddenly feels really tough. Resistance to all forms of damage, tough.
Kathryn: Nothing right now, but I will need to ask questions as we continue this scene.
Victoria: Nothing obvious at first.

Lizbeth: A loud voice narrates her every thought and action. It can be heard clearly from up to 100ft away.

There's no immediate tell of how long this will last. Could be a round, could be permanent. Get with me for die rolls and whatever consequences may occur in the upcoming. Good luck!

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Coach House

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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.

*****

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Victoria Belmont Half-Elf, Bard, Level 5 HP: 33 / 33 Armor Class: 16 Conditions: N/A Location: Coach House (Cellar) Action: N/A Bonus Action: Familiar stuff, Morty Reaction: N/A

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The next moments, from Victoria's point of view, were either momentous occasions or a whole lot of nothing. It was a coin toss and would be highly dependent upon her mood when reviewing this in hindsight. Most especially when taking stock of the antics between their Good Ladye Knight and the interesting bit of chaos that was their Warlock. So much as she wished to take this with the utmost of seriousness and respect, the illusion of those concepts were shattered in monumental ways when Kathryn and Kosara made their grand re-entrance to the cellar. Ever the stalwart professional (at least when it served her purposes), Victoria tried very hard not to facepalm. It wasn't so much that there were people outside of the party, and by extension not fully aware of their nigh-epic shenaniganry, present - it was more that Lizbeth really needed this event, whatever it might be, to finish positively. And yes, Daxos was new blood here and he had zero context to exactly how "non-standard" these people could be.

Maybe it was for the best. Lizbeth could possibly use an element of comic relief. So Victoria remained quiet, ready to change the topic just as soon as sapiently possible with whatever came to her attention. Looking at the issue of the door beyond the door, she remarked, "If desperation strikes, I might sing a Shatter incantation upon the door. It is indiscriminate, however, and I would rather reserve my spellwork if we have mundane means of breaching this door." All the same, her free hand slipped behind her to grasp the violin she brought, a useful item with which a Bard may channel arcane energy. Just in case.

It looked like that wouldn't be necessary, however, with the arrival of their guest, Daxos. He bought out a set of tool which were marginally familiar to Victoria, giving her fond memories of her childhood, watching her father ply elements of his pre-mercantile trade as need called for it. Though raised in money, the Belmonts were what one might call, "New Money," and she the scion of an adventuring couple who would rather keep a lot of their specific history relegated to the past. Even though he did not come to immediate success, the Bard could recognize that it wasn't out of any sort of incompetence. The Dwarf knew what he was doing. This made a well-groomed, red-auburn eyebrow arch. "Duergar? We know a Duergar, do we not?" Urmdrus. Master Craftsdwarf Urmdrus. It raised more questions. They had too many questions as it was.

Then Baronfjord raised an interesting point, and Victoria could not help but let a slight laugh escape. The last burst of Wild Magic altered them in interesting ways. Victoria got a slight height boost, as did Kathryn. Baronford became a slightly different shade of blue, and Kosara, well... her hair now grew flowers. It was actually rather pretty, being objective. But Victoria did look the place over and came to a conclusion, which she might as well put her voice to. "That was a place untouched for decades. Half a century, maybe more. There was a buildup of energy over time, like dragging your feet on a rug and touching a doorknob. This room was at least used since Lizbeth was born. We might be fine."

She regarded what she did know ans what she assumed, adding, "I cannot commit to it; this situation is fully outside of my personal experience." In any case, if Lizbeth was still sticking around and hanging toward the back of the group, they were as safe as she would allow them to make her. "Our girl seems anxious to proceed."

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@rivaan@Shoe Thief@Sigil@Arty Fox@Archangel89

I will be extraordinarily real with you all:

There is no new information in the OOC part of the update. This is what you all are making of it, with your individual interactions with each other and the environment. Keep doing what you're doing, and remember that the note taking type already has an abundance of stuff to consider in this moment. So as always, questions, comments, and die rolls should be sent to me in our Discord, and welcome to a fresh new posting cycle.

Huzzah, ladies and gentlefolk. Huzzah.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Coach House

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Weather: Partly cloudy, highs right around freezing and lows ... well, they're pretty low. But that's a problem for later on in the day! The sun makes itself known regularly, playing a celestial game of Hide & Seek behind the clouds every now and again, retreating when it feels like it but maintaining an otherwise bright day. No snow is falling, but the presence of yesterday's heavy fall remains with slick areas of partial but only slight melt. It is cold, and the gusting wind reminds anyone who spends any time outside.

Time: Early afternoon. Naught but a handful of minutes have passed, though thorough searches or serious investigations will dilate or otherwise alter the flow of time from a narrative aspect.

Ambience: The taproom remains a lovely example of rural comfort and resources. It is warm and comfortably lit, a vision of well constructed wooden furniture and fixtures with solid, insulated stone walls. Per usual, the food and fuel stores are nice and full, as is the copious amount of wine behind the bar. Speaking of the bar, two casks remain here, a much older one almost full of brandy, and a new one somewhat less full of ale.

The cellar seems to be the location of interest, ironically the one room that has changed the least in the last few minutes - with the exception of the tool shelf that suddenly turned into a swing-out portal and opened into a dark non-space terminating with a spooky door. This detail is worth note. In any case, the atmosphere present in the cellar remains the same. It is chilly down here, it is dark, and the only light available it whatever one brings with them. Every breath one exhales becomes visible in the gloom.

To detail the door in the back of the extraordinarily short hall once more - It fits fully within the confines of its frame, not even letting even the smallest shaft of light through, if any light is to be had. The door is made of unyielding, polished wood, with a dulled brass handle. There rests a covered keyhole beneath the handle, presently impossible to get the barest glimpse through to the area beyond. There is no source of light within this area; in fact, thanks to the indirect lines of sight into this place, even the light which filters into the cellar from above is absent. A general sense of foreboding seems to emanate from whatever lies behind this door. Answers, more questions, and findings previously untold.

*****

There was a moment of pause in Lizbeth's heart, or there might have been if it were actually beating at the time, as she briefly considered the new pot of tea being prepared upstairs by Baronfjord. She had barely touched the tea prepared by Victoria, and now that her new Dragonborn friend had gotten his own together, she had skipped out on that, as well. While not one who might describe themselves as a marked lover of tea, she liked it just fine and it could be construed that she was, in fact, being rude. Hopefully, this was overshadowed by the sudden urgency of the moment.

Once in the cellar, Lizbeth did her best to step out of the way of those who were already down there, keeping back as best she might as to keep herself out of harm's way while still keeping a determined eye on what was to follow. She noted the commanding yet quiet entrance of Victoria, followed closely by Morty. It was a little comforting having someone she might speak with about Necromancy, or at least one who wasn't hostile. And whose fantastic selection of foreign clothing she might attempt to borrow. Or at least try on.

This was in vast opposition to Kosara's entrance to the cellar, which wasn't graceful nor quiet, but was at least fun. Were circumstances different, she might have given a wide smile and soft giggle. But this was not a good time for frivolity. At least for her; Lizbeth thought that maybe this was how real Adventurers blew off steam or prepared for something serious. She wasn't one of those.

"Yet."

It was a passing thought, but maybe this experience was what made her like them. Whatever horror or tragedy was in the offing, it might have the silver lining of putting her in line with whatever separated people like her from people like them. That thought was frightening. Quite enough to pass through her present state of suspended unlife. Perhaps it was her destiny to be a wealthy wine heiress, and that was nothing to laugh at.

Coming back to the present fully, Lizbeth realized that Kathryn was mentioning herself and her aunt. She began to listen a little more intently, but didn't seem to take any offense as it was mostly accurate to her way of thinking, anyway. So when it came down to Daxos putting his tools to the lock on the door, Lizbeth opened her mouth to raise a concern which was immediately choked back down. She wanted to see what was in that room, too. Her expectations sank with the lack of the door opening, but these adventurng types had other means at their disposal, right? They took down villains - at least one that Lizbeth saw for herself - a door would be child's play, right?

Perhaps that was why she was a little put off that the Daxos asked her to get permission from Cecily. Maybe it was another reason, but her response was delivered with an even, almost deadpan voice, "I'm comfortable here." Whether or not she saw through any illicit intention was difficult to guess, but Lizbeth had decided to stay exactly where she was, her literal dead stare temporarily fixed on the Dwarf. "I'm supposed to be in that room. Grandpa said. I don't need my Aunt's permission. Please get me through that door."

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Victoria Belmont Half-Elf, Bard, Level 5 HP: 33 / 33 Armor Class: 16 Conditions: N/A Location: Coach House (Taproom -> Cellar) Action: N/A Bonus Action: Familiar stuff, Morty Reaction: N/A

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"Very well," replied Victoria evenly. It seemed that emotional turmoil had hardened little Lizbeth over the past couple of days, with the bulk of this happening just this morning. "When I am not learning from Medician Floquet or helping the others deal with Farid, I am mentoring you in Arcana. Find me when you are done with Kathryn in the mornings." Victoria hastily added, "Days I am not in town, naturally." Hopefully that would be the end of the conversation overall, at least for now. Lizbeth had become quite a curious girl in the time since they had met. Certainly more interesting. It was a diverting thought to imagine she and Lizbeth, was well as the rest of their fledgling adventuring party set up in an actual, bustling Inn in a large city, all looking like they did just then. It was an irregular assortment of people who were very different from the even more inexperienced bunch of "professional adventurers" she was attached to before her quiet exit from their ranks. This new bunch was much more colorful. Maybe a little foolish, but Victoria couldn't say much without being hypocritical, considering certain details of her own history. But should Lizbeth even be counted among this group? She was too young, very inexperienced, and didn't even have a good hold on who and what she was yet. These things would be difficult for any young girl, just coming of age. But Lizbeth had a few more complications than merely being on the cusp of womanhood.

Her mind returning back to the present, they had more pressing issues at hand. Now there was another set of eyes in their midst; eyes belonging to one which Victoria had not formed a clear opinion of, and therefore did not know if trust was well placed upon. She gave a look in Daxos's direction and gave a friendly enough expression, then briefly hid her light smile behind a sip of tea. As an afterthought, Victoria turned to Kosara to give mention that she more or less approved of her explanation of the Cantrip vs. Spell issue. She might have even offered a point of note to make it simpler for what amounted to a lay person to understand.

These thoughts were cut short by the announcement that Kathryn, having absconded back to the cellar upon a sudden flight of fancy (insomuch as Kat was capable of flying and/or fancy things) only to announce that she may have had a breakthrough. Preferably, for Lizbeth's sake, without actually breaking through anything down there. Victoria rose, buckling on her swordbelt and snuffing the candles nearest her books, then confidently walked across the room to descend the stairs, herself. A quick mental command found her personal Thrall, the burlap-wrapped, preserved, tusked boar which mortals referred to as "Morty," ceasing its statue-still vigil by the wall and clambering forward to follow at its mistress's heels.

Within the cellar, Victoria stepped to the side of the stairs. From her vantage, the Bard could just see beyond the new opening in the wall. Close enough to support, far enough back to let the more constitute persons act as a bulwark. To assist in this endeavor, Morty took position just in front, and to the side, of Victoria. Her Familiar was not present but could be called upon at a moment's notice, if they were suddenly in need of a Raven. For raveny issues, of course.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@rivaan@Shoe Thief@Sigil@Arty Fox@Archangel89

My, but things are heating up (metaphorically speaking) in the sleepy region of Avonshire. Secrets being delved into with all of the subtlety and grace of a gassy Hill Giant. But hey, life as an adventurer isn't all style and discretion. Point of fact, it rarely is. I guess what I'm saying is: The update has been updated, and you all have some things to do. Huzzahs are in order, I believe, but the work is about to begin.

Per our usual, but especially now, get with me concerning die rolls and questions you may have in our Discord. I'm sure that you will have noticed the change in maps now that the new area has been revealed. Just remember, you're not in there yet. Best of luck.