Sigil

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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

Let us not mince words, as my good word-mincing gloves are at the dry cleaner's at the moment. We have hit our first official update for the new year. YAY! ...or something similar to a yay. As you can see, I have placed images of the recovered items we discussed in our Discord. If you want pictures with better resolution, talk to me and I can provide. Moving on, I believe that we have covered the basics of the questions posed in our chat OOC and there are numerous things to follow up with, so... have at it.

Per usual, get with me in the Discord for questions, concerns, die rolls, or if I missed something. Good luck!

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Coach House

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Weather: With all of the fun and adventure happening indoors and underground at the moment, why are we so concerned with the weather? Well, I suppose we must. Partly sunny, quite brisk, with temperatures hovering around freezing. No snow is falling, but there's a touch of grey in the far sky that hints at more precipitation to come. The snow remains upon the ground much as it has been all day, but with a touch of crunch to its surface, as the wavering temperatures of midday thawed and refroze the topmost of the formerly puffy, frozen white stuff. Now is the time for icicles, and they do grow aplenty - though places commonly walked become partially frozen areas of not-quite-slush.

Time: Afternoon! Mid-afternoon now; an excellent time for tea, were one to have the proclivity for that. The sun drifts westward; notable of angle but still fairly high.

Ambience: The stable coolness of the cellar extends into the hidden study, if one might still be able to refer to this place as a study with a clear conscience. The (alleged) magic circle still glows a curious red color, which might sprinkle the room in sanguinous, barely illuminating light. The door leading into this place stands apart from its frame, leaning almost casually upon the hallway door nearby. Beyond this, the secret/shelf door stands open about halfway, the prybar attached to the further hidden lock mechanism on the cellar side.

The room - simply furnished, practically screaming of questionable acts performed for questionable purposes - remains as it has been for an unknown period of time. The magic circle glows faintly red, not unlike that of the crystal recovered by everyone's favorite wine heiress. The desk looks amazingly desk-like except for the sudden addition of four interesting, even arcane seeming sticks in recent addition to its open and obvious contents. The table, sinister assumptions which may be made of it aside, remains the least complicated thing about this room. Yes, it has shackles attached, but otherwise is unadorned. The crates are stacked just in front of the hidden cache, as yet untouched and not quite neatly stacked. The cells, on the other hand, were a touch more interesting. The bottom most cell contained the one, hopefully dead fellow, sitting in a fetal position and otherwise unmoving. At the top of the room, the bookcase contained a grand series of personal notations in moderately well penned journals as well as a few items put to binding elsewhere, bearing lettering not native to the region of Avonshire.

*****

Everyone seemed like they were in agreement about not taking money from Lizbeth. Or at the very least, not robbing her outright. But there wasn't much in the way of doublespeak about the girl, so far as she seemed to feel to the casual observer. Either way, reward for service or not, the fact that they were eager to help out put her at a greater sense of ease. And really, how much is that worth? They'd figure something out, and from the eventual look of what was being found within the small room, there seemed to be enough things for many to sample. Not to mention a lot of glaring, particularly unflattering questions about her grandfather.

Lizbeth smiled politely at Kathryn's continued reassurance that whatever act of wild magic that traveled from the Lady Knight to herself didn't do something unfortunate to her, or to her budding abilities to manipulate the flows of magic. Whatever it was that sparked into her didn't manifest in any way that was negative as of yet. Or at all, she figured upon reflection. Hopefully, whatever it was had passed without incident, or merely didn't apply to her.

As it was, her mind was a bit fuzzy concerning her surroundings. The shaft of hollow crystal made into a pendant which she held in her hand, a find from the small trove in the wall, had glowed with crimson liquid the same color of the magic circle on the floor - until she took it from Victoria. The redness turned to grey ash and disappeared, but the now empty crystal, with its brassy fittings and hard, sharp edges, took up the vast majority of her interest. Eyes locked on it in an almost hypnotic state, broken only by Baronfjord's announcement about the wands. Her head turned in the direction of the desk, again alive with interest in this new haul that the elder L'Rose was able to acquire for himself. More questions, of course, starting with the origin of these things when he rarely even left the property anymore, let alone went gallivanting of in search of adventure and treasure.

Lizbeth turned back to Victoria. She hadn't announced anything she had uncovered in the wall nook, and it looked like she wasn't delving too deeply into what they had found just yet, except to open what looked like a scroll case. She saw the papers inside, but something else, too. Slow, careful fingers dipped past the Bard's arm to reach inside of the open case and pull out a what appered to be a long, slender shard of irregular black glass, tapering to a point with jagged, crystalline edges and silvery wire wrapped around a portion of it like a handle, or grip of sorts. Her hand retracted quickly as a drop of blood was cleft from her finger, a casualty of her own curiosity, which caused her to drop the glassy shard to the floor. It clanged upon the unyielding surface but did not break in the way glass might. Lizbeth quickly recovered the item and put it back into Victoria's keeping, at least for the time being. "I think you're right, Mademoiselle Belmont. We should find out what these are and what they have to do with my grandfather. This is too strange." Still, her eyes went back to the hollow crystal in her own hand. Something about this was drawing.

Meanwhile, two of the group were running their own experiment in the room, admittedly far less nefarious than previous management's experimentation, most likely. Daxos was keen enough to spot something, maybe, and Kosara had an extra bit of magical oomph, enough to give a cursory examination of the cell overall to rule out unseen difficulties. The good news was that, as the Tiefling's spectral hand moved and flitted about in the cell, it contacted nothing which might have been solid but invisible. However, when the hand began to make contact with the loose straw bedding, a thing which it might have had no problem moving about due to the low weight of straw, even older, damp straw, it made connection with something a bit heaver. More solid. Still within the ability to be moved, it clapped and clunked against a pile of whatever it might have been, shifting the straw around.

It was bone. Dry, old bone clattering under straw - which had just shifted to reveal what looked like the toe of a rather well constructed boot.

Simultaneously, a resounding series of knocks issued from the front door of the Taproom, audible because of the open doors and unoccupied space upstairs. A gruff voice barked on the other side of the door, muffled beyond easy hope of clarity. In the common tongue, one might barely make out the words "early" and "preserve." The knocks began again.

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/"Study") Action: N/A Bonus Action: Familiar stuff, Morty Reaction: N/A

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"Also where did you go when you vanished anyways?" The question hung in Victoria's mind like the knell of a temple gong from far too close. She didn't blame Kosara, not really, but her position until very recently was less than optimal, and required her to utilize her finite amount of tiered magic to repair. It wasn't usually her role to cast healing magic, and in fact many people tended to forget that she was a versatile spellcaster, even if she leaned heavily toward the less socially acceptable of the arcane arts. But it was a fair question, regardless of her personal irritation. "I went a few places." Her words were honeyed, even if their implications were not. "From my extremely recent travels, Kosara, I can tell you that the roof has less snow upon it now, and Kathryn's room has a new bloodstain on the floor."

Victoria silently willed her Raven closer to the building so that she might get a vision of the surrounding area. She allowed her vision to flash over to her Familiar for just a moment before redirecting her attention back to the here and now. Kathryn had asked her a question. "The dead guy... yes, much as I asked Toombes a few questions, I might ask a few things of our new friend, the corpse. I am afraid that I can't 'make the dead guy work for you', unfortunately." A brief pause and a light shrug later, "I don't have that kind of power. Yet." The Bard felt like she might be close, like a barrier was waiting to fall away and greater understanding give her the power she desired in that regard ...but not yet.

The idea put forward by Baronfjord, that Arnaud L'Rose was learning magic from The Prince as well as pursuing it for himself gave her some pause. It wasn't outside the realm of possibility. "I understand if my opinion on Arcana requires a little additional seasoning before it can be swallowed (considering recent misadventures), but I have seen a few examples of the late Monsieur L'Rose's lack of basic tutelage on the subject." If it was true, did that mean The Prince was teaching him wrongly on purpose? Victoria did not have enough information to make that kind of a leap.

When Lizbeth took the crystal shard from her and the redness within turned into grey ash and then vanish, Victoria gave a look of equal parts wonder and concern. "Lizbeth, dear?" she began carefully, "You should probably let me try to identify these things before we get too familiar with them. Is that alright?" She was inquisitive but hopeful, though she doubted that if the girl decided against it, she would stop her with anything related to force. Very deftly, Victoria popped open the end of the scroll case in her hand and peered inside. Quizzical eyes looked surprised for just a second before she reiterated, "Yes, we definitely need to take inventory and look more closely at things here."

Lizbeth's small speech about compensation washed over her again, very similar to the one from the other, objectively more legitimate study. She nodded. While there was agreement within her that they weren't going to rob a child heiress, a contract made with reasonable terms was something she was going to go along with, especially if the goodies were interesting or useful enough. She was an adventurer. And she was pursuing an end goal, even if she hadn't shared what that might be to her new adventuring companions. Money, magic, and equipment would be necessary to make that happen. Regardless, she kept quiet, simply letting her non-verbal response carry whatever message it would.

Then it occurred to Victoria that she still had information the others didn't just yet. "I apologize for my manners; it was been a ...trying last few minutes... I caught a glimpse of magic behind this wall panel," she gestured to the place she and Lizbeth were just cleaning out, "that circle, which I can only guess is a partial protective circle, I think," and finally, she gestured to the desk nearer to the door, "either in, on, or under that desk. It resembled a bundle of different types of magic stored together." Her head swiveled over to the center cell to the side of the room, followed by a lingering exhale. "And I'm not certain, but I believe something is in there, too."

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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

...and we're back!

Alright, for starters, let's extend a hearty congratulations to each other for surviving another holiday season. Whatever horror caps off your year and/or winter celebration, you all made it through. So, a fond HUZZAH to everyone who made it back more or less intact.

Long story short, timers restart NOW.

Long story moderate, if we haven't resolved actions for this cycle already, get with me ASAP to do just that. And if we have, remind me what you're up to. It's been a couple weeks and I'm too lazy to scroll through stuff to figure it out. Per our usual, get with me in our Discord for die rolls, questions, and/or miscellaneous stuff, and best of luck with the upcoming RP atrocities.

Oh yeah, and everyone gets one free Advantage roll, to be used at your discretion. Happy Belated Something!

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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

Let's get this out in the open. First and foremost, TIMERS ARE ON PAUSE. With the posting on this update, we're all going to be dancing the Time Warp again. Take it easy, enjoy the holidays, do your thing without me hounding you about your timers. We will pick back up after the New Year.

That out of the way, if you want to post, go right ahead. Standard posting rules apply, but your timer won't move until we start back up in January. I will remind that there are die rolls that are not resolved in the IC. Please get to these in the IC before moving on to new stuff. You actions effect the setting and what comes next within. Onward and upward, I'm still around if you have questions, conncerns, etc., but remember that it's the time of year that turns me from merely busy to chaotically slumped under a big, gooey pile of Shit To Do. It may take a while. And remind me if it does.

Have a spiffy holiday, enjoy your New Year, and do try not to off anyone in the meantime.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Coach House

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Weather: All of that interesting "weather" stuff is happening outside, while everyone is in the cool underground of the cellar and/or the hidden study, but were one to be milling about out-of-doors, they would see a partly sunny but still quite brisk winter day. Whiteness is everywhere, even if icicles drip and trod upon areas begin to slush a bit. The new, fresh look of the snow is fading to the more common appearance of a landscape under seige of the last rays of a weakened sun.

Time: Still but the afternoon. Not early afternoon anymore, but passing no further in the day. The sun is still high.

Ambience: Still cool, but not painfully so (as one might expect from the wind outside) temperatures reign within the cellar and attached, quite secret room which probably had no right to be referred to as a "Study," though it had, unfortunately, picked up that particular nom de guerre. The center of this study floor bore the slightly glowing, red marks of what appeared to be a magic circle, not quite enough illumination to cast a shadow but enough to be noticeable. Otherwise, the only light in this place is that which one brings in with them.

The only obvious entrance and/or egress to the room stands fully open, its door removed from its very moorings into the stone, revealing the short hallway beyond and the open secret shelf door leading to the cellar proper.

The furnishings of the room are simple, aside from the odd magical circle; desk, table, cells, crates. The implications of these furnishings are slightly more complicated, however, as one of the cells contained what appeared to be a corpse in a sitting fetal position, the table bore restraints that probably weren't recreational, the crates poorly hid a secret cache within a secret room, and the desk... well, we'll see. A short bookshelf to one side carried probably the more interesting, or at least potentially revealing, of items, unless one counts the dead fellow in the cell.

*****

Lizbeth followed the Bard, or more specifically, the Bard's thrall, back down into the cellar and the secret room beyond. There seemed to be a flurry of activity now, with people checking here and there, a brief flash of light and crackle preceding a mild curse by Baronfjord. This did give her a startle, despite her determination to be as rugged and serious as possible in this trying moment, likely to offset her emotional outburst from earlier. She might not have admitted it, though. In the same way, Lizbeth refused to make any mention of the strange magic that crackled from Kathryn to herself, past the initial vocalization of shock and concern. No ma'am, the wine heiress was a stoic bastion of strength - she hoped. Regardless, Lizbeth's features maintained their vital luster, making it easier to tell her true depth of emotion. She had not slipped back into the pallor of the unliving.

Entering the secret room, proper, left her with more questions. This was expected. This was never supposed to be a dilemma that she would be led through with held hand and a blankie. But she did have a group of professional adventurers to do the metaphorical heavy lifting. This was a bigger comfort than she had in a long time. It was a lonely road at first, leaning slowly into power that she didn't understand, and a solid relief that, while this was something she never wanted, it was a thing she had some control over. Knowing she wasn't a monster helped.

While she had no clue that Daxos was doing, as he stood in the room with singular alertness, she was certain that the Dwarf knew what he was doing and resolved not to disturb his efforts. The young lady gave him a sheepish nod and tried to stay out of his way.

Kathryn likewise seemed to busy herself, and far be it for Lizbeth to meddle in her work either, but she did pose a question that manners indicated needed an answer. "No, I don't think it's that, Ser Kathryn. The, um, the 'form' comes sometimes when I'm feeling scared, like I can't control it. But sometimes I make it happen because it's useful. And it's like, everything feels less, you know? I don't get tired, I barely feel the cold. I don't get hungry. I'm not... well, most of my feelings are caught on the inside. The magic thing didn't change anything, not that I can tell." Lizbeth really hoped that the magic zap that Kathryn involuntarily gave her was nothing more than mildly unpleasant, over and done with.

Lizbeth gave rapt notice when Victoria began pulling a flat piece of stone off of the wall. While she wasn't fond of the Half-Elf referring to her grandfather with anything less than the utmost of respect, she did realize that her new friend was the closest thing to an Arcana scholar that they had, and was able to find the hiding space of the small cache readily enough. When Victoria said that the thing she found were probably intended for her, the younger girl reached out an unsteady hand to accept the hollow, crystal-shard pendant.

As soon as she touched it, the bright red liquid within powdered to grey ash, and disappeared from the hollow space entirely. Far from looking used up or depleted, the facets or the crystal seemed to sharpen with hard edges and intense clarity, like it was fresh and new, waiting for something to happen. She marveled over it for a moment before looking back to the wrapped package and long scroll case in Victoria's hands, giving a nod of some understanding before addressing everyone around her. "I'm my grandfather L'Rose's only living heir. Whatever was his is now mine, which includes everything in this room. I mean, it will be, when I turn sixteen." She spoke with a small voice. Trembling, slightly. But Lizbeth maintained an element of bravery with her, seeing as she was a magical neophyte and surrounded by experienced warriors, and insisted on setting terms. "But I am willing to make the same bargain I made with the people in the Estate House study: I'm hiring you to handle whatever is going on here. I don't have money to give right now, but if you find something that can help you, I give permission to use it. We can talk about permanent after. I only ask that you find out what it is and tell me, first. Some of these things," she looked at the now empty crystal shard, "were meant just for me. Is that okay with everybody?" The tremors of fear, excitement, and/or nerves were visible to the casual observer now. If anyone objected, what might she even do to stop them? Being able to pull out a few interesting parlor tricks with the least of magics still put her in the realm of a potentially petulant child in a room full of much more powerful adults.

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 (Roof) -> Coach House (Random) Action: Skill Check (Investigation) Bonus Action: Familiar stuff, Morty Reaction: Ow.

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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.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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

Well, he obvious effects of the surge have cleared the area, more or less. All that's left now are questions and some interesting assumptions. Anyway, moving on.

We have a lack of resolution of a die roll within the writing. These things happen. But, the results will abide. Specifically, the initial room search was not attempted in the IC despite the Help Action assist from another character, with the reason being that the wild magic surge messed things up. This is fine. It's even a good reason. Improvised, situational, and such. But with the exception of the randomly teleporting, "in and out within a second" person, no one has actually entered the room yet. I looked over the text again. There's no mention of it. As the rolls were resolved with failure, this means that subsequent attempts to do the same task over again will meet the same result until time passes or something changes the situation. Do with this information what you will.

I do have a way to get things back on track, but it won't resolve until a couple of the people on the main floor get back down to the cellar.

In essence, we're at a standstill here. Nothing has really changed, except that the ones who only had a minute's worth of wild magic effects has passed that time now. So, let's push onward. If you have questions, concerns, or need die rolls resolved, please get with me in our Discord. And best of luck to everyone.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Coach House

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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.

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 (Roof) -> Coach House (Random) Action: Spellcasting (Healing Word, Prestidigitation) Bonus Action: Familiar stuff, Morty Reaction: Ow.

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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.