Call Forth Darkness (Inactive)

Game Master Aku Warashi

Not even your dreams offered peace anymore. Nightmares plagued them and whenever you tried to sleep, a horde of fanatics hunting you down in the name of their insipid sun god. Each time your nightmares although different, ended up in the same way: A burning pyre.

Sometimes you burned alone, others, you burned with your brother.

You cannot recall when it started, but slowly the dreams began to change. It no longer had zealous hordes chasing you; instead they were being led away in a goose chase by your own shadow, while the darkness kept you safe and hidden.

Each passing day, your shadow led them away from you, and each passing day you could see they were being led to a gigantic burning pyre and it would be magnificent when you lit the fire.

Outside the comfort of the night, your days were filled with lies and hypocrisy from the ones you once considered your friends. It made you sick inside to keep the farce and pretend to be happy around them. Each passing day, you felt more detached and alone.

Then, like a sweet music you heard the calling. A song whispered in the darkness, an irresistible urge to drawing you to a place outside the city. You knew that it was a one-way trip and finally you would be free from all the lies and pretend.

Packing your stuff with a fast beating heart, you departed into the night following the whispering song in the darkness, the welcoming feeling in your heart. It leads you into the forest.

The forest path continues for a few leagues and then you see a clearing up ahead. The sounds of the forest become suddenly distant as the trees part, opening into a small, almost perfectly circular glade. The nearest stands of pine, cedars, and darkwood—all typically sturdy woods—twist away from the clearing, as if bent by some impossibly strong wind or seemingly in an attempt to flee despite their paralyzed roots.

At the glade’s center squats an ugly cottage, little more than a pile of twigs, shoots, and ivy stacked upon mud walls. From the thatched roof dangle bundles of gnarled roots, old dried beast carcasses, and knucklebone bangles, all clattering together like gruesome wind chimes. A dozen small thatched fetishes—each shaped like a tiny man, imp, or rearing serpent—stand propped in the yard, keeping guard before a rickety plank door.

At the rickety plank door, you are met by a green-eyed woman; she wears a diaphanous white gown that makes her look almost angelic in the darkness of the night. And then you know that finally your destiny had reached you.

The woman extends her hand and when you take it, after a surge of magical energy, you are standing in a richly decorated bedroom.

This spacious bedroom features a mixture of styles to create an open-air, with classic, wooden furniture in a clutter-free area. Everything is accented by the calming contrast of dark browns and light cream colors.

The floor is made of small, mosaic tiles that show tones of brown, gray, and gold. A light burgundy rug runs the length of the room, creating a soft walking space. The walls are a soothing light brown that complements the cream-colored drapes and quilts.

Rather than being a wide, square-shaped room, this bedroom extends more length-wise, with the four-poster, plantation-style bed at the far end.

On the dark wood bed rest four standard pillows and one smaller, accent pillow. A brown throw lies draped across the edge of the mattress, as if it has recently been discarded. There is no canopy on the bed frame, allowing it to receive natural light from the nearby window.

Two small, square mirrors hang on the wall at the head of the bed, brightening and further lengthening the look of the room.

A night stand with three drawers can be found next to the bed, holding two jugs, water and wine, and a traditional bedside lamp. On the other side of the bed stands a matching lamp for additional soft lighting in the evening. The wood of the night stand matches the bed’s color, with a lighter, wood-inlaid sunbeam pattern decorating the drawers.

Four green plants enhance the earthy tones of the room’s colors and bring the outdoors inside. One spiky palm next to the night stand matches the hint of color from a smaller green plant on the other side of the bed. The two other plants serve to accent the fireplace.

Throughout the area, natural light suffuses the room from the large windows covered only by nearly transparent sheers.

At the foot of the bed is a woven wooden loveseat, complete with two deep burgundy pillows that match those on the bed. Facing the loveseat are two leather-upholstered ottomans, which are versatile enough to be used as seating, coffee tables, or footrests. Just beyond these stools is a rectangular ottoman bench. The fabric of the loveseat and ottoman, and the leather of the stools bring the only splash of pinks and oranges into the room. Together, they create a small sitting area in the center of the room, parallel to the raised-hearth fireplace.

The cream-colored fireplace, which is a focal point of the room, rests on top of several matching marble blocks and is situated between two large windows, one next to the bed and the second at the other end of the bedroom. Simple but delicate detail work decorates the fireplace surround. Two tall candlesticks with intricate pierced line patterns rise up from the mantel. In between the candlesticks hangs an impressionistic painting that successfully joins the various colors around the room.

The overall effect of this large bedroom, result in a luxurious, uncluttered charm that is clean, warm, and inviting.

That’s when you heard the woman talk for the first time. ”I hope the accommodations pleases you, dearest.” she says in a gently voice ”There’s a warm bath ready if you need to refresh yourself and there’ll be servants ready at your door all the times you if need anything. You can explore the manor if you aren’t tired. In the morning, after you had your breakfast, you should prepare to meet with the master.”
Post your answer in a spoiler as well. And sorry about the long post, got carried away.

Stone Golem.
A name whispered among thugs, criminals, crime lords, thieves, assassins. No one knew his face or real name, he was everywhere and nowhere.

The cleaner, the manipulator, the brain behind a successful operation, the person to depend when things go sideways and plans fails, the most secretive criminal lord of Matharyn. The only consulting criminal Talingard has ever produced. The prosecutor utterly surprised when a common street urchin addressed him as Mr. Stone.

Such thing was impossible, and exactly half second passed before he regained his mental composure to address the situation at hand. Valence wasn’t wearing any of his disguises this morning. He was on his way to official court business, and his entourage of assistants followed a small distance behind.

”Mr. Stone, that lady over there…” the small urchin covered in dirt, wearing rags and with a hungry look in his face turn around pointing towards something, he seems confused for a second then says ”…there was a lady over there! She gave me a silver coin and promised me another to deliver this letter to you, Mr. Stone.” the boy says again shoving the letter in your direction and anxiously waiting for his other part of payment.

The letter in question, a once pristine white envelop now stained by the boy’s hands, has no other information outside other than a seal you are all too familiar with: an upside down red pentagram.

Please post your reaction to the boy, but I’ll assume you take the letter, and to speed things up, post what is inside. Also, feel free to decide when and where you’ll open the envelop.

Inside the letter envelop, a single slip of white paper written in elegant lines:

To Mr. Valence Niels d'Geiger.

The Royal Swan. Oathday, Desnus 8.
That’s two days from your current day.

--

A date and place.

The Royal Swan is, without a doubt, the finest tavern and restaurant in the city, if not the entire kingdom. Home to the culinary genius Sarracino, and a wine cellar that is second to none, this is the place to see and be seen for the great and the good.

The tavern is a smart, two‐storey black and white building whose sign depicts a white swan wearing a gold crown, with two liveried doormen standing attentively outside. Within, guests are greeted by a hostess and shown to either the bar or the restaurant. Both typically require reservations, with the latter subject to a long waiting list. The décor in the barroom is stylish with discreetly lit booths and well‐upholstered velvet seats. In the more formal restaurant, fine rugs from distant Sabtah cover the floors, the cutlery is silver and the glasses elven, and the walls are hung with tapestries. Upstairs, several private rooms are available for intimate dinners and soirées.
So, what you plan to do?

Everything on her travels just felt right. The air felt clear and warm. As night began to fall, Cecelia's vision only became clearer. As she happened upon the cottage and laid eyes on the many fetishes, she felt her first moment of doubt. There gruesome faces were a sudden reminder of the unfamiliar world she was now entering into. However, as she nervously took a step back from the serpent fetish, she saw the woman out of the corner of her eyes. At first she let out a gasp, surprised to see someone else. However, quickly she felt the tension leaving her body. For the first time, in a long time, Cecelia felt safe...comforted even. The events that followed felt like a blur of marble, wine and burgundy. In her hazy state, Cecelia got out little more than a stuttered, Thank you", before she was left alone in the room.

----

However, after about an hour, Cecelia snaps out of her haze. Left alone, she quickly finds herself facing an old enemy...her own thoughts. Where am I? Who was that woman? Did she drug me? Who is the master? Should I leave? What if someone comes looking for me? Anxious, she feels her hands tighten around the straps of her bag. Contemplating for a moment, an even darker thought creeps in. What if no one comes looking for me...

Shaking her head, angry at her own weakness, Cecelia throws the bag across the room. No. Stop it. This is where I belong. I can feel it. I felt it the whole way here. Remembering the faces of the fetishes, she is surprised to feel her resolve strengthen. These are people who will understand revenge.

Committed to staying, but still anxious, Cecelia spends most of the night pacing and fidgeting. Around 1am, she calls to the servants, requesting more wine. After a few more large glasses, she finally begins to find the large four poster bed inviting. Around 3am, her eyes grow heavy and she falls into a rare and merciful dreamless sleep.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17

"My name is Valence, little one, though I'm certain you followed direction well, and this letter was indeed intended for me. You did well, and deserve proper reward; in fact, I do believe you deserve better than you find yourself now. Are you hungry? You certainly look as though you could use a good meal, and perhaps a bath, as well..."

"HARSK!" Rising to his feet, Valence beckons his loyal clerk in his usual abrupt manner; the Dwarf trudges forward, the rest of the entourage having stopped when their boss did. "See to it that the boy gets a good meal; take him to the Gilded Harp, he will undoubtedly enjoy the sweets for desert."

Smiling down at the poor child again, Valence gives him a little wink. "Go with Harsk here, lad; pardon his attitude, he's just grumpy because he's so ugly."

Harsk speaks ill of his employer's parentage in his native Dwarven, and Valence chuckles, responding in kind.

Dwarven:"Take him to eat, and back to my suite to bathe. Find out about his family; keep him until I am finished in court, I wish to speak with him further."

The matter settled, Valence and his retinue proceed to the courthouse, Harsk set to his own devices.

There are a number of possible options, but I've limited them to three; I broke this into multiple spoilers, since what he will do varies, and they don't stack.

Outcome 1: The boy's an orphan, and goes along with Harsk, happy to spend as much time off the streets as he can.
Outcome 2: The boy is uncooperative.
Outcome 3: The boy doesn't exist, or something else weird. This does not have a spoiler; it'll just be something to think about. My obvious preference is for Outcome 1.

Regardless of outcome:
At the courts, Valence is not at the peak of his game. The curious incident with the urchin, calling him “Mr. Stone,” was a disturbing scene; someone with enough influence had sought him out, and put him at their behest, and that was not someone Valence was eager to offend.

The case at hand was fortunately easy, or rather, easy for Valence, and though his opening was rocky, he was swift to put the occurrence aside, bombarding the defense beyond their limited ability to counter.

Profession: Barrister: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (2) + 10 = 12
”We have heard much testimony here today; the defendant himself pleading for the mercy of the court, despite his counsel's assertation that the man was unfit for trial due to his grief. It is clear to all this day that he did, in fact, know what he was doing when he slit his wife's throat; emotions may have run heavy, but this man is no less a murderer for the fact. Even his wife, rest her soul, spoke to us from beyond the grave; you saw the results of the Speak With Dead yourselves, heard her testimony with your own ears, how he threatened her many times with the exact method of her death, before finally carrying it out. The man is clearly guilty, and the law requires you find him so.”

”Yet, let it not be said that the court is lacking in mercy. While no less guilty, he has still suffered greatly; perhaps with rehabilitation, one day he may be fit to return to society. It is the prosecution's position that, when the certain guilty verdict is handed, the court find leniency for the poor soul, sentencing him to the care of the prisons, rather than to the headsman.”

As the sun faded into the horizon, Valence wound his way home, the duties of the court a pale shadow of the past; the mystery contained in the envelope a puzzle the Half-Elf could not wait to solve.

At the Gilded Harp, Melf is agape at the decent establishment; the smells of food he might finally taste watering his mouth, and he giggles with excitement. He gorges himself on mutton and leeks; so long has it been since he'd eaten more than moldy bread and spoiled fruit that he nearly eats himself sick, only rough words from Harsk scold the boy into a reasonable appetite.

During the meal, Harsk prods the child with questions, which he eagerly answers around mouthfulls of food; Melf is an orphan, forced to slum in the streets in order to survive, his parents having died in similar poverty from disease.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (5) + 10 = 15
Melf's tale seems reasonable, and in return, Harsk shares his own story, casting Valence in a better light than he typically feels, lauding his graces for paying the Dwarf and raising his station in society. The boy listens raptly, his attention finally drawn from his dinner, and hope fills his eyes as the story ends. He looks at the Dwarf almost pleadingly. "Do...do you think he would...help me, too?"

Harsk grunts, ”I can't begin to guess at what goes on in that man's head. But, he wants to see you this evening, and had me bring you here. Seems likely.”

Melf grins broadly, leaping out of his seat to Harsk's side, and wrapping the Dwarf in a filthy hug. Harsk snorts, and pushes the boy off. ”Enough of that. I am not the one you should thank. Come, you need to bathe; your smell is obvious, and now you've passed it to me.”

The boy skips the entire pace to the d'Geiger Law Firm, Harsk grudgingly leading the boy to freshness and respite before Valence's return.

”I wonder if he's going to kill him.... Maybe he'll let me do it.”
-----
Valence
Arriving back at his apartment brought a smile to Valence's face; the poor urchin was relaxing on a couch, dining on hard cheese, Harsk having seen to his bath and somehow found respectable, if ill-fitting, clothing for the child. Melf sat upright, a hand-in-the-cookie-jar look crossing his face as Valence entered, and he shot a quick glance at Harsk, who merely grunted. ”This here's Melf. Seems he's an orphan, and a hungry one at that.”

Valence nods, ”You're free to go, Harsk. See to it you are not tardy for your guard duties again; I would not like another meeting with your Lieutenant.”

As the Dwarf departs, Valence takes a seat opposite the boy, the coffee table and cheese plate between. He motions for Melf to continue eating, who gladly obliges; Valence sits cross-legged and watches silently for several minutes, before leaning forward. ”Melf, do you like it here?”

The boy nods, muttering his agreement through bites, and Valence smiles, ”I would have you stay here. Life as you knew it is nothing a boy should endure. From now on, you will always have food. You will always have shelter; books to read, tutors to help you read them. I shall take you as my own, and your life will be all the better for it.”

His mouth agape, water wells in Melf's eyes as he nods vigorously, ”Oh yes, thank you Mr. Stone! I can't believe it, I-I-I just don't know what to say!! Oh I'm so -” Valence raised a finger, silencing the child, and reaches over to wipe tears from his cheek; once dry, he grips the boy's jaw hard, forcing their gazes to meet.
Intimidate: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (20) + 15 = 35
”You will understand something. This life I am offering you is not a gift, nor a privilege; it is mine to do with as I see fit. While you are here, for as long as I seek to keep you, you will do exactly as I say; there will be no questions, no apologies for mistakes. If you do not, then this life will be no more. You will be no more. No one will miss you; know one will notice when you end up in the forest. Did you think life as a beggar was difficult? I don't imagine you'd survive more than a week in the true wilderness. Is this understood?”

The slightest movement against his hand confirms the boy's affirmation, and Valence smiles; Melf now sees the cold, cruel nature of that smile, and his tears flow once again as the Half-Elf releases his face, the boy rubbing his sore jaw.

”Good. Now, compose yourself, and finish eating; it is getting late. You may sleep on the couch, until I arrange for better quarters to be set up. You will be awakened early in the morning; it would be best to sleep quickly and well.”

Rising, Valence crossing the sitting area, making for the door to his personal suite. He pauses in the doorway, turning to the boy, who, despite the scare, had resumed dining. ”Oh, and Melf?” As he turns to face Valence, the man's face grows dark and stern; no play at cheerfulness crosses his features. ”If you ever mention Mr. Stone again, I will skin you alive.”

Later that night, during his guard shift, Harsk tracks down the beggar-child, sleeping under a bundle of filth in an alleyway. Gingerly placing the shaft of his longhammer across the slumbering boy's neck, the Dwarf steps upon both sides, crushing his windpipe with ease. The urchin's eyes snap open as he struggles to breath, but Harsk simply grins down at him, until, purple, his life end.

Trotting to the edge of the street, Harsk spots a fellow guard, and shouts. ”Valeros! I found some beggar dead in this alley; it looks like he slept in the path of a cart. Take care of it, this is your jurisdiction!”

The next few days were spent in his office; the courts had only minor matters of concern, and those were below Valence's attention. He saw few clients, only his typical, wealthy patrons, seeking advice on matters of estate. Indeed, these too were below his attention, and it was with practiced stance that Valence completed his business, the majority of his thoughts turned to the upcoming meeting. Who was this mysterious person, who seemed to know a great deal more about him than he ever allowed? What would they want? These were but the most obvious of questions running through his mind as he plotted his next move.

The Royal Swan was no stranger to Valence; some of his most opulent associates had chosen to meet amidst the luxury on occasion. Still, Valence was wary, and at his most alert for signs of any kind. As he was greeted by the hostess, her abrasive manner caught him off guard, and his natural arrogance went into full force. ”Hello, sir, and welcome to the Royal Swan. I'm sure you were anxious to enjoy our fine establishment, but as you can see, we're very busy...as always.... So, unless you have a reservation, Mr...?”
Intimidate: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (14) + 15 = 29
”d'Geiger; Valence Niels d'Geiger, Prosecutor for the Courts of Matharyn, and every bit your better!” His voice, stern and forceful, did not need to be raised to draw the attention of patrons nearby, and his index finger punctuated his points. ”Do you believe yourself so worthy of your position that you can deign to address your patrons in such a manner? So far above your peers that you have forgotten your true place in society? You, dear, are a servant, dressed to appease her master, not as a display of status. If you value what you have, you will mind yourself; do not ever treat me, or any member of superior society, with such disrespect again!”

”Now, I have an appointment with a client in this facility tonight. Whether my name has been listed on your books is not of my concern; I am to be here, and so I am. You will lead me to an appropriate seat. There -” gesturing to a booth, the occupants therein having obviously ceased their dining, as they were reclined and chatting softly, hands resting upon full bellies, ”-they are clearly finished. Lead me to my appointed table, or clean that one for me.” With a smug grin, Valence adds, ”If you please.”
Perception: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (11) + 16 = 27
Though his grin faded swiftly from his face, inwardly, it grew broader, as the scolded hostess did as instructed; Valence readily made note of the attention he had drawn, and the hushed conversations spreading across the tavern, describing the scene.

”Let us be public, then, since that is their wish.”

Startled, you wake up on an unfamiliar bed. For a brief moment, you forgot the events of the last night and looking around wildly the richly decorated room brought no memories of what might have happened. The clear and warming sunlight shone directly on the window near the bed, its light illuminating the entire bedroom.

Still in the bed, your attention is dragged away from the window. A familiar sent of fresh baked tea, small conversation noises and looking towards the source, near your bed, the remains empty, but the leather-upholstered ottomans are currently being used as a makeshift table. On said table, a simple, but yet elegant set of silvery platters arranged and filled with a variety of bread and cheese, smoked salmon, beef, tea and milk. The table is set for two.

After scanning the table, you inevitably gaze on the devilishly handsome fellow, dressed in simple yet elegant priesthood cloths sitting on the rectangular ottoman bench. You immediately recognize the man clothing as high priest attire, but you see none of the rich and superfluous decoration that Mitran Cardinals and High Priest uses. The impression you get is that man was didn’t care about his social standing, only to serve his god. And then, the inverted red pentagram of Asmodeus displayed prominently on his chest. Standing beside him, you see the same green-eyed woman; the hauntingly beautiful woman now in an elegant black dress. Now, seeing her for the first time in daylight, her hair is so platinum as to almost be white and her eyes are a vibrant almost unearthly green.

And as soon you look upon the duo, the man turns to you smiling openly and the woman turns in her heels, walking towards the door.

”Welcome to my house.” he says with a pleasant voice. ”I took the liberty of preparing your breakfast.” he says pointing to the table in front of him. ”It would be my utmost pleasure if you allowed me the grace of joining you.”

"Of course you may join me." Cecelia replies, with a hollow smile. "It is the least I can do for someone who has been such a gracious and welcoming host." Unable to disguise the suspicion in her voice, she adds, "Though I must admit I am at a total loss as to what I could have done to deserve such... kindness...and I do usually prefer to know who I am dining with... "

Cecelia stops mid sentence, as her eyes fall upon the familiar holy symbol. Her training was to hate that symbol... to hunt it. Now she was seeing it in a new light.

"The fallen... " she whispers to herself.

Examining the clearly devout man, she suddenly saw her best chance at answers. Lowering her guard, she sits down and remarks. "I have been hearing things lately...whispered promises...It's him, isn't it?"

The uncomfortable silence last only a few moments as the nobility demonstrates its amazing ability to deal with the unknown: Pretend that nothing has ever happened. Drinks are served, conversation resumes, the soft music starts to play again and no one would ever believe they were judging and planning or even plotting against the upstart lowly peasant that believe himself to be part of the noble and grand society. Of course they knew who Valence was, and they were well aware that crossing the man was something they absolutely couldn’t afford. But the world inside their own heads was theirs to command and shape as they saw fit, and there, the prosecutor was worse than the peasant and the common rabble. Such was the power of the nobles to lie to their own selves.

Barely five minutes passes when she enters the place. The green-eyed hauntingly beautiful woman bedecked brilliantly in all white, looking like a travelling noble on the way to her wedding. Her hair is so platinum as to almost be white and her eyes are a vibrant almost unearthly green.

She walks inside demanding the attention of everyone present. She walks proudly and one can only think she owns the place. Her gaze barely meet the ones inside before she turns her face away with disgust and disdain: Even the nobles were not fit to be on her presence. The turve of employees scurry around the woman, trying desperately to do something, anything to appease her and maybe redirect her to her table. That’s however a vain effort, as she scans the place and then locks her dazzling green eyes on you.

It hits you like thunder, the immediate sense of danger. Skilled as you are in the art of intimidation, you knew the woman wasn’t even trying to impose on you, but all her body, poise, and manner screamed of a predator, a dangerous monster.

She is not human.

The thought assaults your mind and as soon it does, the woman smiles and walks towards you, sitting on your table without waiting to be invited.

The poor barmaid that went to get your order was the target of the woman. Without even breaking eye contact with you she commands ”Fetch us drink, and we don’t want to be disturbed.” the girl flees, to do as commanded.

Then she smiles broadly and asks you: ”Are you ready to discuss business?”

The gentle smile never leaves the man face as he answers gently brushing aside your questions.
”There’ll be time later for question, and all the answers you might want.” The man pours hot tea in the cup, and carefully cut a piece of cheese and bread placing it on a platter, alongside a fine cut of beef.

With a swift movement, he places the platter and the tea on your side of the makeshift table and starts the process again.

”My name is Andrastus Thorn.” he says while pouring the tea in a new cup, when the process is finished, he continues ”I was once a Cardinal of Mitra.” he starts cutting a piece of bread and cheese ”And for serving the sun god, the burning pyre was my reward.”

He then proceeds to cut a piece of the salmon ”It burned for three days and nights.” he stops the what he was doing and looks away, towards the window, as if remembering something from long time ago. ”I prayed to Mitra for forgiveness, I promised my soul for redemption, but when I promised revenge, the Dark Father heard my pleas.” he puts his breakfast in front of him and then starts to eat slowly.

The cardinal looks directly into your eyes and says ”That’s what the Prince of Darkness is offering you; a chance at revenge, a chance for justice, a place to belong and a cause that matters.”
I would have liked to be more subtle with this scene, but it’ll take loads of time to set the right mood.

Letting out a sigh, Cecelia replies to the man, "I do want revenge. For what the Mitrans have done to my family. But you are right... It's more than just revenge. It's justice. " Cecelia's voice trembles. "Mitra is a liar and a hippocrite. We are told to serve him for our own good. But what choice does he give us really. Undying loyalty or death by fire? He would have us all believe that he is the only one who can heal us... But he left me blinded on the floor. No, something else came to my rescue, healing me and letting me heal others. Something Mitra doesn't want people to know about. If that is the Lord of Darkness, then that is where my loyalty now lies. " Looking at the man with a fire in her eyes, she adds, "If justice against Mitra is your offer then I accept... "

No worries. I haven't exactly been playing it subtle either, for the same reason.

"Something is not right with her. It never crossed my mind to deal with outsiders today..."

As she sits at his table, Valence can not stop the slight, wry smile of amusement as the offensive employee is put down once again; she certainly would have a better attitude on her next shift. His face flattens as the woman addresses him, her lilting voice undeniably pleasant, but something about it, much like her appearance, grates Valence, and as he gives her a nod, he reminds himself that this woman was not his typical customer. He would have to be very careful, indeed.

"Greetings, madam. As I'm sure you're aware, my name is Valence Niels d'Geiger. I must say, you took me by surprise, and that, as I'm also sure you know, isn't something that happens often."

He smiles, the fake gesture of one accustomed to feigning social propriety, and gives her another slight nod. "Business, yes. Straight to the point, and I do appreciate the direct approach. Please, what is it you'd go to such length to discuss with me?"

Breakfast continues and instead of pushing the subject, you end up talking about several unrelated topics: Food, wine, choice of music, what one likes and dislikes. Old histories and old wounds are rarely approached by Andrastus, but if and when Cecelia mentions, he is always attentive and understanding of her needs and worries.

The manor where you are currently living is an old one by a once well-traveled road. Despite of the obvious age, the place is well maintained and welcoming. The front yard however, promotes the appearance of place where someone lives, but no one cares for it.

The eclectic, rustic three-storey manor house has two main stairways, and steps hither and thither inside. Original slate floors run throughout the ground floor basement entrance; to the right is a dining-room and a games-room, on the left is a fabulous kitchen/diner with a double sized and huge farmhouse table with plenty of space for many a convivial gathering. Head through there, passing the pantry, utility-room and the enclosed covered and cobbled backyard and you come to the fantastic indoor heated bathing pool; the first floor is home to a huge sitting-room, study-area, and a sun-room. There’s also a huge library, where you can find any manner of knowledge, from Mitra to obscure and long forgotten gods, dark rituals, black magic, healing and caring. Everything is sorted by topic and there’s no distinction about the subject it portraits.

There’s no locked door for you in the house, except for the master Study and his bedroom. The green-eyed silver haired woman, you learnt later, is named Tiadora, and she is the one you see the most in the house, except when you are with the Master. No one also is keeping tabs of what you are doing. You are free to leave whenever you want, and you noticed there’s always a carriage ready. You learnt as well you are shy of a day’s ride to Talingard Capital and when you inquired if you could leave; the only thing the master asked of you is if you needed gold to pay your expenses.

There’s rarely a visitor to the manor, sometimes they receive a courier and he delivers something and is always quick to leave. The place has a horde of servants; beautiful young ladies and lads, tending to all your needs all the time, they didn’t said openly but you know that if you want company for the night, you need just to choose.

The servants, always smiling and doing their best to serve have all one common trait: They are terrified of Tiadora. Every of her words of is law and a command to be obeyed by the letter. After the first days, you come to understand that the woman has some kind of hold on them, and possible magic by nature.

And Talking about Tiadora, she is an enigma by herself. She walks in the place as if anyone and everyone is beneath her, but she is always gently when dealing with you. She tends to your needs and listens if you need someone to talk to. Feel free to ask questions of her if you are interested.

The master, although not always present, makes a point of be in your company whenever he is in the house. After the first day, he never intruded in your quarters again and you always receive an invitation in advance asking to lunch, dinner or breakfast. There’s also study sessions, when he takes time to teach you about Asmodeus, magic and dealing with possible enemies. His teachings makes you realize you can suppress part of your fears be better at what you do, even when there’s someone nearby to disrupt your magic. In all, the man seems to be a caring father, always attentive of your needs and feelings. There are days, when there’s no study, no learning at all, you just sit and chat, about several things of no consequence, and you have the impression that he might have come to enjoy your presence more than anticipated.
You’ll stay in the manor for about two months before the events described below. Please post anything you might have done in that time, or anyone you might have talked to. Except for Tiadora and the Master (outside what was already described), you are free to decide all the answers and responses or even situations your character might be facing.

One particular day, Tiadora approaches you and conveys a surprising notice.
”The Master is expecting someone this afternoon and he wishes you join him when meeting our guest. This man might be someone you’ll work with in the future. The Master wants to hear your thoughts after meeting with our guest.”
Also, please post your appearance for the meeting.

===//===

Despite of the growing tension, the bard and his band start playing a soft ballad, a music describing the fate of the last members of a druid circle. A It’s words if someone would pay attention to it would be something similar to this:

The moon sheds no light on Salisbury plain
The day turns to night and the bonfires cease burning

I marvel at this mystery, beholder of the stars
A holy temple, a sacred burial ground
Guarding well its secrets from us all

- by the bard: Arjen Anthony Lucassen

Drinks are served, and soon after food. The woman doesn’t touch the food, but enjoy the drinks.

”My master has a job proposal for you in exchange of your talents. Something you’ll find on par with your skills and that will allow you to finally achieve what you could not, for the past twenty eight years.” she says simply and you know she is talking about the Stone Golem, not the royal prosecutor. With that, she passes another pristine white envelope, but fortunately this one has inverted red pentagram. You reckon the emblem in the letter is just a facade this time.

When and if you open the envelop:

Inside, another slip of white paper with the following written:

Reaseheath Old Hall, Old commerce road. Oathday, Desnus 15.
Mr Valence and company are thereby invited for a banquet to be held between interested parties.

Signed: A.T
This time, it’s a week from your current day.

With her piece delivered, the woman waits some moments for any forthcoming questions and if none is presented, she raises and leaves.
Please feel free to describe your preparations, who you are talking with you, and any investigation you might perform ahead of time. Remember that while it might sound heavy-handed, you can always refuse the invitation or simply ignore it. :)

The manor itself was a bit of an adjustment for Cecelia. She was used to the modest lifestyle of a Mitran priest and had no practice ordering around servants. Her inexperience became quite apparent on the first night when one of the servants approached her asking, "Is there anything else you will be needing tonight, ma'am?" Completely missing the man's suggestive undertones, Cecelia has smiled and nodded. Turning briefly to grab an empty decanter, she nearly broke her second item of the day as she turned back to face the young man, who was beginning to disrobe.

Old conservative instincts kicking in, Cecelia shouted at the man, "What on earth are you doing!?!"

An instant look of fear and regret, crossed the servant's face, as he began to stammer. "I...I thought you wished...for us to...you know..."

"No! You Imbecile!" she screamed. Picking up his shirt from the ground and hurling it towards him at a surprising velocity, she barked "Get out!"

The man whimpered an apology and ran out of the bedroom. At first, Cecelia felt embarrassed by the whole situation and worried that her verbal abuse of the servant would offend her hosts. However, a few more days past and Tiadora and the Cardinal remained as civil as ever. Quickly she figured out that her hosts cared little for the servants' wellbeing. At that point, the young man became quite useful in satisfying a very different need than the one he had intended. He fulfilled her need to lash out at someone and see someone punished for their transgressions against her. The young man became a special target for all the particularly unpleasant jobs she needed done and was criticized harshly whenever he made a mistake.

Harassing servants aside, by far Cecelia's favorite activity was her lessons with Thorn. She enjoyed the feeling of being mentored and found the man's passion and purpose contagious. When Thorn was away she did not waste any time, focusing on her training in hopes that Thorn would notice the improvement. She would spend her evenings alone in the library exploring all the subjects the Mitrans never wanted her to see, jotting down notes in her brothers old journals and feeling closer to him than ever.

As time passed, Cecelia grew used to life in the manor. No longer was she shy about ordering around servant or wandering the premises alone. Occasionally Cecelia would go jogging down the roads nearby, but she never took up the offer of a carriage ride to Matharyn. The manor had become her haven and she was not eager for reminders of her miserable old life.

Cecelia's time in the manor was not only emotionally restorative, but also physically transforming. Grief had taken its toll on her body. She had cared little about her physical appearance. Too little food and sleep had made her pale and thin. She had all but abandoned her training and over-indulgence in liquor had left her sorely out of shape. However, at the manor she was eating more, drinking less and had a reason to care about her appearance again. By the time two months had passed, Cecelia was as strong and healthy as she had ever been.

The one person that Cecelia remained nervous around was Tiadora. Perhaps it was the way the servants scattered whenever she entered the room or just the woman's unnatural beauty, but Cecelia felt a little sheepish whenever she was around. However, when she heard the news that they were to be expecting another guest and Thorn was interested in her opinion about, Cecelia responded to Tiadora with uncharacteristic enthusiasm. "Of course! I will prepare at once!"

Preparing for the meeting, Cecelia made sure to look her best, ensuring that her wavy ginger hair fell in a tidy way. She found a simple white and black dress for the occasion. Completing the outfit with old necklace with a green gem that matched her eyes, that her brother had given to her many years ago, Cecelia was ready to meet Thorn's guest.

Oops...this got long...

Small talk abated, Valence took the offered letter, inserting it, like the last, into his breast pocket; he would later repeat the process in his office, burning this as well. He gave no inquiry, making only a single statement before rising, properly seeing the lady from her seat, and resuming his dining.

"It is most curious that you would consider naught three decades to be a great expanse of time. That is an oddly Human sentiment, wouldn't you agree?"
------
Hiring a contractor to build a basic sleeping area for Melf in the basement of his building was but the first of a long list of tasks Valence saw to during the week before the next meeting. He slept little the first few days; though he had no direct court appearances, several meetings were always necessary with fellow Barristers, as well as the mounds of mundane paperwork that even one of Valence's status could do little do avoid. Bureaucracy at it's finest, a dance he knew too well.

He kept his employees late; his three assistant attorneys and librarian forced to work well into the night, their daily duties extended until Valence became available; his days were full. He acquired a tutor for Melf, one from the same agency as had taught him in his youth. His favored clothier saw to it that the boy has fitting garments, one for each day of the week, plus a spare; though far from lavish, they stood miles above the rags he was accustomed to donning. Valence had no further need to be harsh to the child; the initial incident had ensured proper respect, and the Half-Elf adopted the role of wealthy, occupied father. To Melf, Valence behaved as royalty, and he was too young to realize otherwise; Valence made it a point, however, to always eat dinner together, along with Harsk.

Lamps burned well into the darkness in the d'Geiger Law Firm, as Valence made it a point to be obvious of his work. Lem, Mailee, Merisiel, and Enora were given proper bonuses, as well as increased commission rates, for their additional work; Valence had suddenly seen fit to take on several estate contracts. In truth, the "Stone Golem" had deigned it necessary to maintain his public identity actively; fully intending to attend the meeting with his mysterious new patron, and certain he was being observed, Valence wanted to be sure all parties understood his prominence.

It served dual purpose; none would expect the Half-Elf to be out at night. On the first, he broke his cardinal rule, and sought out a patron of the Stone Golem under a different guise. Dressed as his crone alias, "Koya," he dropped off a parcel at a jeweler's, the altered accounts reflecting purchased valuables, rather than those gone missing. Whether the man recognized him or not was irrelevant; it was a test, it could be nothing else.

The second night brought forth his guise of scholar, "Kreighton;" Valence recalled the long-forgotten places familiar to those of Asmodean bend, his time spent in the guard highlighting some likely areas from the time before the Purge. He was not foolish enough to inquire directly of remaining cults; rather, he had traveled far, seeking some obscure text, his only lead bringing him to Matharyn seeking out an "A.T." He was at utmost caution to remain in his disguise, though he knew that "A.T." was certainly aware of his actions. It was the rabble from which he would hide, another of his honed skills.

On the third day, he rested.

The end of the week saw Valence attending few of his personal legal matters; a prominent court case had fallen onto his lap, and he had to devote considerable time in the expenditure. Harsk was ordered to spend one of his earned nights of leave, and on the night of the meeting, Valence donned his best suit, and ensured Harsk did the same. If any one meaningful should see him, he had certainly earned the right to an evening of freedom, without being pestered by those who felt their time to be of greater value. Thus he was when he entered the designated location, Harsk in tow, prepared to dine at last with his mysterious new contact, offering grand promises Valence hoped were true.

Burning through his cloak rolls, save the traveler. I'll use it up before the game proper starts, so all rolls are made where they should be. The only thing that might not fit is if the location of the meeting were in an "improper" location; in that instance Valence would use the final disguise, though with the same attitude, hiding his proper clothing underneath the Tear-Away outfit. Harsk would meet him there.

The woman doesn’t seem shy to exposing her option about things, as she says: ”It’s one-quarter of your short life. Why would it be important to you?”
--

After leaving you to your own designs, and free to explore and investigate your mysterious patron. Reaseheath Old Hall on Old commerce road is easy to get information about: It belonged to one of the families purged during the reign of the Zealot. This one manor escaped the witch hunt and was left abandoned, with nothing but some servants to care for the place. A closer inspection of the place however shows sign of habitation that contradicts the rumors. Your agents reports that couriers were seen delivering their charge and from time to time, an ginger woman could be seen walking around the place.

Of A.T. you find everything and nothing at the same time. The initials could mean countless other things, and everyone you talked to or no matter where you investigated, you always raised more questions than answers. In the end, it’s clear that only A.T isn’t enough to discover who you are dealing with.

Finally, the day comes you with Hask following along; you set up early in the morning to your destination: Reaseheath Old Hall, Old commerce road.

The trip is uneventful and when you arrive, you find the same thing had have been described by your agents several times: The front yard of the old three-storey manor, promotes the appearance of place where someone lives, but no one cares for it.

At the door of the manor house, you are met by the same woman. The only difference is her dress. Instead she wears a diaphanous white gown that makes her look almost angelic. When she speaks, any illusions about her angelic character are quickly dispelled.

“Dearest, we’ve been waiting for you.” she says coldly. Opening the door and showing you inside. Slaves!” She claps her hands. A dozen young attractive men and women all wearing very traditional servant’s livery appear quickly, their heads bowed. “These people are our guests,” she commands imperiously. “See them to the guest rooms. I want them accommodated and refreshed. Quickly.” There is something in that last word that sounds like a threat. Certainly the slaves take it that way, hustling to perform their duties. Before you are lead away, she gives you one last piece of information. ”The banquet will start in two bells; make yourself comfortable.”

You are led up to guest rooms. The accommodations are comfortable and the slaves are silent and efficient. There’s wine and food if you are feeling hungry, there’s also the opportunity for a bath to clean yourself of the dirt of the road. There’s a decanter full of velvety red wine. The wine is mixed with healing herbs and holds six glasses of wine each equivalent to a potion of cure light wounds.

The eclectic, rustic three-storey manor house has two main stairways, and steps hither and thither inside. Original slate floors run throughout the ground floor basement entrance; to the right is a dining-room and a games-room, on the left is a fabulous kitchen/diner with a double sized and huge farmhouse table with plenty of space for many a convivial gathering. Head through there, passing the pantry, utility-room and the enclosed covered and cobbled backyard and you come to the fantastic indoor heated bathing pool; the first floor is home to a huge sitting-room, study-area, and a sun-room. There’s also a huge library, where you can find any manner of knowledge, from Mitra to obscure and long forgotten gods, dark rituals, black magic, healing and caring. Everything is sorted by topic and there’s no distinction about the subject it portraits.

There’s almost no locked door for you in the house, except for the master Study, his bedroom and a room the servants called the Lady’s room, and here, not even your superb skills availed you entrance in those rooms. The servants seem more terrified of green-eyed woman than you could ever make them yourself. The green-eyed silver haired woman, you see her here and there, ordering the frantic mass of servants to prepare things.

Feel free to described what you might have done in the time before the banquet.