The thunderous knocking jolts Sir Gavin from the frightening words on the wall, and he grabs the hilt of his sword in reflex.
The door opens itself before Chalmers gets a chance too and a halfling almost bursts through the door. "Ya gonna let me stay out there all night? I was freezin' my cheeks off out there." He stands at a mighty 3 feet tall and is wearing brown coveralls with a name tag that reads Hobbes. He looks around at the group and stops when he sees Rikktik. With great speed he draws his hand cross bow. "Ya know you got a giant rat in yer midsts, right?" He then senses how okay the group is with this fact, and puts his weapon away. "Yer one of those ratfolks aren't ya. I guess yer okay. The church of the Lady of Graves sent me. Name's Hobbes, but people usually call me Rat Trap. Who in the inferno are all of you?" You see that he is also equipped with a shield and a holy symbol that corroborate this story.
By the Vault, it's someone smaller than me. Under his robe, R!Kktik quietly puts away the alkahest flask he was preparing to throw at the newcomer as Hobbes lowers his weapon. "It's Madame Dulapont's house. Polite to let her. Introduce us."
Alfred releases the cocked hammer of his pistol, as he sees no threat at the door. Wow. I don't remember cocking that back or aiming for that matter.
Then with a backwards spin he replaces the pistol in it's holster.
"I am Garra, and you may wish to be more careful with who you brandish steel at."
Garra's arms fold over her chest, and a gleam in her eye further hints at the implied threat.
"Sorry about that legs. In my line of work, can't be too careful. I saw a rat, so I reacted. I'm an exterminator, of voimen and of things that don't know when to stay dead."
Garra's expression goes from a subtle glower to a frown of confusion.
"I'm afraid that Taldane is not the language I was taught as a child, what do you mean by 'legs?'"
"I was callin' you legs, since yer legs are taller than I am." Hobbes says as he literally looks her up. "Would you rather I call you toots?"
Sir Gavin relaxed his grip on his sword at the advent of this new guest and nods to him politely.
What? He thought to himself. The church of Pharasma couldn't send someone of higher... quality?
"'Toots?' What in the frostbitten plains of hell is a toots?"
From the tone of her voice, Garra does not like be confused. Rather vigorously dislikes it as a matter of fact.
"Am I not speakin' common? I'm tryin to be friendly by implying that yer a pretty woman." Hobbes shakes his head.
"Oh."
Garra's cheeks turn bright red.
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Athalaric, still examining the painting, is so surprised by the halflings bold and sudden entrance that he needs a few moments to find his words. However, just as Garra's exchange with Hobbes leaves her in an awkward position, he manages to come to the rescue by getting the newcomer's attention.
"Well met, Sir Hobbes. My name is Athalaric, scholar of the arcane arts." He gestures at the writing on the wall. "It may well be that an extermintator is exactly what is needed here. Especially if you know how to handle vermin that won't stay dead... I have the distinct feeling that something evil is afoot here."
Hobbes chuckles to himself as he makes the mighty warrior woman blush like a school girl. "Well that's my specialality! What seems to be tha problem?"
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Athalaric clears his throat and explains "We are still unsure of that ourselves. Someone or something seems to disturb the peace of House Dulapont and even resorts to as much as lethal force. Chalmers here was just about to show us the evidence of the phenomena." He points to the writing. "This is, however, all we have seen so far."
"This is the most dramatic evidence of the 'occurrences'," Chalmers says, stiffly, "apart from the unfortunate deaths. If it would please the honoured guests to follow me back to the dining room, as per Madame Dulapont's instructions...?"
"No problem Jeeves." Hobbes follows the butler alongside everyone else.
The hooded ratfolk silently follows Chalmers, keeping alert for more unusual occurrences.
Garra follows, but something catches her eyes as she leaves.
Black nods and follows in silence.
Perception
Chalmers suddenly freezes, his body starting to tremble. For a moment, you wonder why, and then you feel it as well. A wave of unearthly cold seems to radiate from the painting, and when you glance at it -- the golden letters are writhing like worms, the alphabet changing from Common to something else. Anyone fluent in Infernal can read that the words are still the same, but now they are written like dire law, rather than demented poetry. In the picture, the founding mother of House Dulapont is weeping blood...
"I'd know that sound anywhere, that's the sound of voimen in the walls. You got a major pest problem here. And is that a dame screamin?" Hobbes heads for the sound of the womanly scream.
Perception
"That sounds like a lot or rats.
"Yes."
Garra runs back to the dining room, the code that her brothers and father had learned echoing in her head.
A warrior will defend his host, even if he does not trust him.
The writing, though, was what unnerved her. She'd remember seeing it once, when she was little. A visiting shaman had pulled out a blade with runes like those on it's length. She remembered the sickness and the fear she felt after stealing a glance.
This is going badly. Very badly.
Sir Gavin looks around confused.
"I can't hear anything over everyone trying to talk at once!"
Still, with Hobbes and Garra starting to run back to the dining room, he decides to join them; just in case Madame Dulapont truly needs their help.
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Athalaric runs after the others, clutching at the pocket in which he carries the tiny bamboo cage. He can sense his familiar's restlessness and indignation with the sudden violent movement. "Shhh, Prickles. It's gonna be over in a moment." he murmurs, trying to calm the scorpion while trying to keep up with the group.
"Yes. Rats, many. And our hostess!" The ratfolk returns to the dining room as fast as he can, paying the changed picture little heed.
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You run.
You run past paintings clean and stained, you run past flickering torches -- and you run towards darkness, for the closer you come to the dining hall, the more torches have gone out.
The door is shrouded in darkness until you burst in, and even inside, there is a gloom.
A fire is still burning on the hearth, but the candles are all out. You can just see that the table and the sideboards have been overturned and many of the chairs smashed to kindling. Huddling in the far corner is Mme. Dulapont, her hands raised to ward off something she cannot see.
Something you cannot see, either...
In the distance, you hear the deep-voiced drone of the bells of the church of Pharasma, signalling the fall of night. The higher, silver bells of Erastil's church answer, and then the false tones of Asmodeus' brass bells. The clockwork carillon of Brigh's small church and the golden tones of Abadar's temple bells form the closing accord.
It is not just dark now, it is night.
From somewhere above, you faintly hear sounds of scraping and thudding.
"Please don't," Mme. Dulapont whimpers. "Not again. Leave me... leave me be... Please..."
And with that, the old woman faints dead away.
"How do you fight something you can't see?"
Crashing through the door, Gavin spots Madame Dulapont in the gloom looking like she faced an enemy. He rushes over to her side and draws his warhammer along the way. He looks for an enemy to fight.
"Madame Dulapont! Where is the enemy? Madame!"
"Is she gonna be alright?" Hobbes moves to the unconscious woman while looking around.
"Simple. You listen for it."
None of you hear any suspicious sounds, save those coming from high above, and you see nothing. The tolling of the bells echoes dully and then dies away, but the sounds of scraping and thudding continue.
"This just keeps gettin' weirder and weirder."
Tiring of the bafflement, and slightly creeped out, Alfred takes aim on the area with the largest concentration of scurrying, and blasts away with his pistol, then scrambles to reload.
Pistol Attack
Damage
"This, this is why you do not fool in magic."
Garra points to the noises upstairs and the fact that no one could see Mme. Dulapont's assailant as her proof. Garra, determined to take one of what ever it was with her if things went pear-shaped trots back to the dressing rooms and strips out of the dress and puts her clothes and gear back on. A couple of minutes later, she returns carrying a spear in her hands and a halbred on her back.
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0: Detect Magic, Mage Hand, Prestidigitation
1: Comprehend Languages (2), Grease
"Oh well, so much for my simple errand..."
A part of Athalaric is not quite so eager as the others to seek out the source of this seemingly supernatural sounds. The other folks might be here to answer some summons for help but he was not and should best keep out of it all, the part said. On the other hand, two things compelled him to take part nonetheless: First, he felt somehow obligated as he had been received as a guest and treated with respect and generosity. And second, he was not quite convinced that some strange ghostly apparition was reponsible for all this. As much as he loved those adventure stories, he couldn't quite believe that something like that would happen to him here and now.
As he came here with no relevant gear to speak of, Athalaric directly runs after Alfred to discover the source of the sounds.
Not seeing an enemy, Sir Gavin kneels next to Madame Dulapont.
"Madame. Madame! Can you hear me? Are you wounded?"
He checks for obvious injuries.