Will does indeed jump as the Lady taps his shoulder from behind. Just a little. Fortunately the mask and feathered cape cover most of chagrin at being so jumpy.

'Some great Pathfinder I am! 'Go Forth! Explore Uncharted Wilderness! Find Ancient Artifacts! Discover new Cultures and Ancient Civilizations!' And squeal like a girl when a Lady asks me for a dance. Oh, Shards! What if she wants to dance?! I can't dance!' Will tries not to hyperventilate, and misses most of the 'Lady's' question before he realizes that she is asking him a question.

"Hm? Oh. OH! Party, yes, it's very, nice. Grand, It's well, I don't know what I was expecting, but I'm pretty sure this surpasses it." The mage finally manages to blurt out, glancing over to see if Mal is still talking to the other girl.

'I can't FIND a girl to talk to normally. Now that I'm trying to talk to Mal, they come out of the friggin' woodwork?!?' Will fumes.

"Hm. The artifacts. Yes. Lovely, they're just,... lovely,..." Will trails off as he gets his first good look at the costume that the 'lady' is wearing. You can almost see the glass bead eyes of the eagle mask bug wide open.

"Ummm,..."

'Silas is gonna kill me.'

Addy smiles broadly at the man's obvious nervousness, and as she asks the next question, she decides to inch a bit closer, and puts her hand lightly on his arm. Must be a little bit of devil in me, she thinks. Giving a chuckle, she asks, "Well, 'lovely' wasn't really what I was getting at. What do you think of them? I have a bit of knowledge of these things, but it's only a bit. What is the opinion of an expert on such things? My own opinion is that they just don't seem to have that ... 'oldness' feeling about them that other artifacts I've run across do."

" 'Oldness'? I'm not sure that's an, accurate, unit of measurement or historical referencing. But, yes, I see what you mean." He answers slowly at first, then gathering momentum as the conversation seems to have steered into something he IS comfortable with. He speaks softly, so as not to be generally overheard, but he is obviously busting to discuss his observations.

I've forgotten, did she tell us SHE was with the pathfinders? Or just a 'Lady'? If she told us she was also with the pathfinders, he has no reason not to talk to her! :)

"Honestly, I've only seen a few genuine Azlanti artifacts; the rests were reproductions and casts of larger or more fragile pieces. While these have the general attributes of Azlanti pieces (such as a formal, squared composition; tall, imperious figures and a focus on symmetry and elements of the arcane: jewelry is typically more plain than ostentatious, the focus being on fine materials and craftsmanship rather than massive gems or elaborate gilding) I cannot identify them as from a particular period. They have almost a,... a mish-mash of subtle attributes from various found relics, and there is something rather crude about them, now that I have a closer look. For one thing, they aren't made of marble or any other stone, but a greenish stone I can't quite identify. For another thing, the necks of the figures all have some sort of... consistent weathering. Since parts are broken off, it's difficult to tell exactly what the friezes and sculptures depict in a narrative." He rambles on longer before stopping for air. He looks at the Lady, and his eyes go wide again.

"That doesn't mean they aren't fine pieces!" he adds hastily. "As i said, I'm hardly an expert on all things Azlanti,..." He starts lamely. Then shrugs his feathered shoulders. "But yes, they don't quite seem to have that 'oldness' that they should have, do they?"

From beneath the safety his mask, he rolls his eyes and bites his lips.

'Perfect. Just. Flaming. Perfect. Why don't I just waltz up to the hostess and demand to know what she's trying to pull with these phony artifacts?!? I MUST learn to get my brain in the saddle BEFORE I let my mouth start to gallop!'

I've forgotten, did she tell us SHE was with the pathfinders? Or just a 'Lady'? If she told us she was also with the pathfinders, he has no reason not to talk to her! :)

"So, they're fake old pots then. Can't blame her, really. The stakes were just too high for her taste."

Addy looks to Will. "So, do you actually think these are fakes? Perhaps our hostess is doing what I did - putting replicas on display?"

“Dragons? No … see, the thing with dragons is they’re not nearly so common as the stories make out. Every hero went around slaying em, there’d be none left soon enough. And that’s not how the Pathfinder’s roll my lady … now barbarians, scoundrels, orcs, even a few ogrekin, those I’ve put to the blade in my time…”

Malatar notices Will hovering nearby, apparently upset by something, but he has forgotten his own advice of getting the job done first. I’m sure whatever he’s discovered with these old pots can wait a few more moments…

"Is it tales of derring-do, then?", says a man nearby, who Malatar now notes is the man with the peacock mask that was speaking to Lady Vestang and Emperor Dungsweeper a moment earlier. He's an older man with a beard shot through with grey under his mask dressed in a regal coat embroidered with feathers to match his mask. He speaks with a forced vitality and gusto.

"I couldn't help but overhear, my dear lady and Sir Barbarian, that you are a Pathfinder, sir! What a privilege! I am Lord Kendler and I myself was just telling our hosts of my own exploits just recently against the Qadirans near this very hamlet. You see, I was cut off from my men in a protracted engagement just east of here, when..."

Lord Kendler proceeds to dominate the conversation with an exaggerated war story full of factual errors, baffingly implausibilities and more than a few racial epithets directed toward Qadirans and almost any other non-Taldane stock. Mabriel, who must be very easily impressed, is rapt for the entire thing.

Marten, Silas? Anything? There's stuff for you further back.

Addy looks to Will. "So, do you actually think these are fakes? Perhaps our hostess is doing what I did - putting replicas on display?"

"Although,..." He muses in a lower mutter, probably not even realizing that he is speaking aloud. "Then why the disparity of styles? The consistent inconsistency? The identical weathering patterns on every piece???" The wizard taps the side of his eagle's beak thoughtfully. He glances once more over to Malatar, and sees that he is apparently riveted by the peacock-masked man's tale of adventure. He turns back to the lady and her cousin, snagging a drink off of one passing tray, and an unidentified snack off of another.

"Although,..." He muses in a lower mutter, probably not even realizing that he is speaking aloud. "Then why the disparity of styles? The consistent inconsistency? The identical weathering patterns on every piece???" The wizard taps the side of his eagle's beak thoughtfully.

William WyrdRune wrote:

"Although,..." He muses in a lower mutter, probably not even realizing that he is speaking aloud. "Then why the disparity of styles? The consistent inconsistency? The identical weathering patterns on every piece???" The wizard taps the side of his eagle's beak thoughtfully.

"Ferdinand" leans in close. "Well then, it looks like our fair host is bluffing. Question is, do we want to call her bluff?"

"I'd be loathe to call our hostess out simply on MY cursory examination of the artifacts. I'm egotistical, but I know my limits, and I'm not an expert on Azlanti artifacts. Besides, there are any number of perfectly reasonable explanations for the inconsistencies. An unusual source of stone, an outlying region far from the 'center' of Azlanti civilization, and any other number of things could account for the disparage of styles." Will says hastily, trying to prevent himself from accidentally starting a public disgrace of the hostess.

'Great, that's all I need to include in my first official report. "And I am happy to inform you that we confronted the hostess immediately upon examination of artifacts, causing a great hue, cry and public scandal that will no doubt haunt the young lady for the rest of her family's days. And the artifacts turned out to be genuine, and apparently I don't know an Azlanti dream-catcher from an Osirion fertility goddess!" Oh yeah, that'll just be perfect.

William WyrdRune wrote:

"Although,..." He muses in a lower mutter, probably not even realizing that he is speaking aloud. "Then why the disparity of styles? The consistent inconsistency? The identical weathering patterns on every piece???" The wizard taps the side of his eagle's beak thoughtfully.

"Ferdinand" leans in close. "Well then, it looks like our fair host is bluffing. Question is, do we want to call her bluff?"

Malatar nods politely, feigning interest for the sake of decorum. What a load of old tripe… Even his interest in the young lady is waning. If she’s impressed by this old coot, well, there can’t be too much going on upstairs. So not only can’t I bed her, - the stick up her noble arse would likely get in the way - but I can’t even hope for interesting conversation … Desna save me.

Glancing about under the shadow of his mask, Mal notices that Will is in conversation with Lady Albercroft and Ferdinand … and that the trio appear to be drifting off in the direction of Lady Vestang. The warrior quickly downs the last drops of wine in his glass, then, at a suitable pause in Lord Kendlar’s tale, before he can get into the next campaign, Mal speaks up.

“Impressive indeed my Lord, I am afraid my own tales seem mundane and unexciting in comparison to what you have experienced … anyway, I seem to have finished my drink…” He turns to Mabriel. “My lady, may I leave you in Lord Kendlar’s experienced hands for a short while. Please excuse me.” He bows slightly to them both, then hurries off to the nearest waiter, grabs a drink, then to intercept Will and the others.

Malatar excuses himself rather smoothly as Lord Kendler continues his long-winded story. Pushing through the crowd, he quickly joins Will, "Ferdinand" and "Lady Albercroft" as they make their way to the hostess. Lady Vestang is greeting guests with an electric smile, her overstuffed companion in the military regalia and his two wolf-masked guards, as well as a hovering servant in a scaled fish costume making a small entourage. The hostess' gown and tiara are even more opulent, combining with her personal beauty and magnetism to cut quite a fine Empress.

She turns gracefully toward the four of you, an imperious smile on her face.

"Ah, more of my guests! I hope that you're enjoying the masquerade and my new acquisitions! This is my betrothed, Duke Gunrad Sallin. And you are...?"

Lady Vestang holds out a gloved hand toward Ferdinand first in a formal greeting.

Lady Vestang holds out a gloved hand toward Ferdinand first in a formal greeting.

Bluff: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (2) + 9 = 11

Addy gives a slight curtsy, and an overly broad, somewhat forced smile. "As my cousin Ferdinand stated, I am the Lady Vivianna Albercroft. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintence, Lady Vestang. And I thank you for your invitation to such a lovely gala."

Bluff 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (5) + 7 = 12 another +1, if Lady Vestang happens to be attracted to her ... :-)

EDIT: OK, now we start blowing our Bluff checks. Great.

Lady Vestang curtsies to Ferdinand and Vivianna; Duke Sallin bows, pausing to kiss Lady Albercroft's hand through his Emperor mask.
"Truly, you are a vision, milady.",he says in a voice at least an octave higher than you would have expected.

"Lady Vivianna you look lovely as always! I hope you have some Osiriani things to complement your costume: I would love to expand my collection. Those gloves are truly incredible, Lord Salatic!,"exclaims Lady Vestang,"Are they difficult to remove? You all have such wonderful costumes. Such a colorful turn-out for my masquerade; what an exotic pleasure to have such a menagerie at my quaint summer cottage."

As if to emphasize her false modesty, a servant passes with a tray of elaborate pastries. Not exactly rustic fair.

"Though I would hope our barbarian and his eagle will keep the pillaging to a minimum, eh?", interjects Duke Sallin.

"Oh, Gunrad, you are the living end.", says the Lady, turning to Will and Mal,"It's too bad that Venture Captain Quent couldn't attend, but we are quite pleased to have you. I understand all four of you were instrumental in dealing with our goblin problem just last night: so kind of you to step in when the help was found wanting. And how delightful that all of our relic experts have found each other! What do you think of my latest acquisitions?"

Her expectant gaze flicks greedily between the four of you, waiting for your accolades.

"Well, let's just say I'm not looking forward to removing them and leave it at that."

"I must admit, I'm not what you would call an expert on artifacts. Still, they are quite impressive. Wherever did you get them?"

Addy exclaims, "Oh, Lady Ashinana, you are too kind. The masquerade is truly a delight, and you look positively radiant tonight. So unfair that the rest of us should have to compete with such beauty!" Addy turns a moment to view the artifacts again, and then back to Lady Vestang.

"The Azlanti artifacts are just fantastic! I have never seen their like, nor equal! I am suitably ashamed that none of the minor Osiriani objects I brought could even compare to these. Where on Golarion did you find such exquisite pieces? And may I ask, their material is quite strange; what is that green stone?"

Addy nonchalantly grabs a glass of wine off of a passing servant, her gaze never moving from the Lady Vestang, as if waiting with baited breath on the answer.

Might as well see how well the sweet talk went
Diplomacy 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20

Lady Vestang beams with "Vivianna's" complements.

"Oh, my dear, thank you so much! And I am so excited to see your offerings from Osirion; I am certain my collection cannot do without them. Have you been there recently? Now, I can't tell you exactly where we found my precious treasures: a girl's got to have her secrets, you know! But my father was having a survey team look at some land along the Jalrune and they discovered this entire cache in an old outpost or temple of some sort. If you enjoy these, just wait until I reveal our greatest discovery later in the evening! As for the stone, I thought it may be some kind of jade but it doesn't have nearly the same shine.."

"Of course you would be the expert on precious stones, wouldn't you, darling?", interjects Duke Sallin, "But I must tell you once more, I think it could be a problem having all of the sculptures and your precious masks out so openly with all the... colorful guests in attendance. I wish you would let me call in more of my guards, my dear..."

Ashinanna's mouth quirks slightly in irritation. She responds sweetly, but with an undercurrent of irritation that says this conversation has happened before...

"My dear Duke, I told you: Itaden is more than enough to keep an eye on everyone and I've carefully chosen each of my guests. Even if many of them are Unbearded, i highly doubt they would be able to make off with part of my collection without anyone noticing. Now relax and try to have fun."

Smoothly, she turns to Will and Mal, trying to rope them into the conversation.

"How terribly rude of me to prattle on! Master Wyrdrune, I understand that your family is known in Absalom for their long tradition in the arcane arts. Have the both of you worked together for a long time? It would be such a delight to hear about your latest travels. What has Venture Captain Quent had you occupied with of late?"

Sorry, been very busy, will get back up to speed

Malatar gives a polite half bow. “We’ll try to keep the pillaging to a minimum my Lord and Lady,” he says. “The goblins of last night will do us for now I think.

“I’ve known Itaden for years, when we both campaigned together up north,” he adds, not realising until after he’s already opened his mouth that he’s stepping into the middle of the couple’s old argument. “He’s a fine and dedicated soldier, and, ah, yes, he’d be the man to look after things. Security wise. And yes, your collection is, ah, very nice.” He glances at Will, realising that he’s starting to sound foolish or dull. “Actually Will here is the expert on such things. I’m more the action type, but hopefully some of William’s knowledge will rub off on me.”

"You see, darling?", says Lady Vestang with a triumphant smile,"Itaden is more than capable of handling a house full of party guests. I'm sure between Malatar and myself we can each name several occasions where my bodyguard has prevented all manner of catastrophe."

Duke Sallin, chastised, responds with only a low grunt. Several masked guests are milling about conspicuously.

"It seems I have some more guests to greet, my friends,"Ashinanna says,"I do hope you enjoy the masquerade. Just you wait until you see my big surprise! You'll be absolutely amazed, my dears."

With that, she curtsies to you all and turns to offer her hand to a slim man dressed with an insectoid costume, twin feathered mandibles jutting from the jaw of his mask.

"Thank you so much for inviting me, my lady!", he says,"It must have cost a fortune to throw such a lavish event..."

Mingle? Check out the patio? Skip to the big reveal?

Pushing it back up to toward the top of the pbp list...

After taking his leave from Lady Vestang, "Ferdinand" heads out into the crowd to mingle.

I say we just skip ahead to the Reveal.

After taking his leave from Lady Vestang, "Ferdinand" heads out into the crowd to mingle.

I say we just skip ahead to the Reveal.

Sorry I missed so much! Will's just a big blowhard anyway! ;P

Will looks nervously at Malatar when the hostess ropes them into the conversation. But a fortunate interjection by Mal and quick-thinking flattery by 'Lady Vivian' distracts the hostess from actually expecting a direct answer from Will it seems. Which is good, since he stinks at dissembling. He smiles wanly at the hostesses' dismissal, then remembers that his face is covered. So he bobs his head in agreement, and adds a quick, 'lovely to meet you', and wanders off with the others.

"Hmmm,... 'Temple or somesuch'? yeah, right." Will mutters as they stand around, 'mingling' among themselves for the moment.

"I would have thought that she would have everything on display. What do you think that she's holding for a big reveal?" He asks the group, after having repeated his thoughts on the artifacts to Malatar.

I'm ok to skip to the reveal, unless Silas wants to play first, and wants Will's help! ;P

Silas mingles with the crowd. He whispers a naughty word here and dispenses an erotic caress there. He is in his element and he knows tht his moves will soon attract the hostess of this party -- a person who hates being outshone by anyone.

Silas catches sight of William and nods in his direction.

Over the next hour or so, you all mingle in the party. On the patio, with a clear view of the sea, are several cages of exotic animals: monkeys, songbirds, even a strange feline creature that some of the guests spend their time harassing in the hopes that it will perform it's trick. When they succeed at riling up the animal enough, it hisses and pulls the skin up from its face, revealing the exposed skull and muscles beneath!

Word circulates that the Lady Morrow's guest is none other than a merchant prince of Kyonin, as lascivious as he is rich and cultured. Those of you familiar with the elven nation are quite sure there aren't any "merchant princes", but it seems the party goer's ignorance isn't hurting anyone (and Will notes that it may be a large component of Silas' plan, so wisely keeps his mouth shut).

Shortly before midnight, the servants in their fish costumes bear trays of sparkling wine to each guest, politely advising that the time for the toast has arrived and that everyone should congregate in the Grand Hall. Lady Ashinana stands at the center, in a space cleared of everyone but Duke Sallin and the servant that remained by her side the entire evening.

"My friends!", she begins, in an imperious voice below her elaborate headdress,"It is said that our dear Taldor is a fading power in the Inner Sea, her glory forgotten and left to rot in the mausoleums of our noble forebears. But tonight I bring you a demonstration that greater empires than even our beloved Taldor have risen and fallen."

She gestures grandly to her artifacts. The audience isn't sure where she's going with this and wait with baited breath for her to continue.

"And now, I will offer you all a vision, a fact that only a select few possess knowledge of: as a sleeping dog may wake, so too may the children of empire reclaim their place! Ladies and gentlemen... Behold! The children of the Azlanti!"

She raises her glass to the ceiling and the servant beside her and the others stationed throughout the crowd lift their masks and shrug off their scaled robes. Each of them have prominent foreheads, aquiline noses and noble bearings all similar to the classical features of the First Humans. Their skin is very pale, as if they have been out of the sun for a long time and their hair is dark. Clad only in short breeches (or shifts, in the case of the women), their pale skin takes on almost a glow in the Grand Hall. Each is a flawless physical specimen, with perfectly proportioned limbs bereft of excess fat.

But the most striking feature is their gills.

Each Azlanti has a set of gills at their neck, flaring out a bit, almost like a tall collar. Their long-fingered hands splayed as they bow and curtsy to the audience, you can see that they are slightly webbed.

The Grand Hall is silent until one of the guests start clapping. Slowly, as more party goers slip out of their astonishment, the clapping rises to a cacophonous swell. Lady Vestang smiles triumphantly, basking in the accolades.

"To the First Humans! To an empire rebuilt!", she cries and raises her glass once more. The other guests cheer her toast and drink their wine.

"Ferdinand" raises his glass with the rest, but doesn't drink it. After all, if you're going to call someone's bluff, you want to be more sober than them. She might even be telling the truth, but the only thing that's at stake is respect, and he's got nothing to lose.

He steps forward, making a quick gesture as he does so. "Excuse me for interrupting, but how exactly did you discover the last living members of an ancient civilization?

Casting Detect Magic and using it on the Azlanti.

“Heh,” comments Malatar quietly to Will, as they stand a distance back from their hostess, raising his glass. “Not what I expected. But might explain your problem with the artefacts then; not fakes or copies, but an evolution. Reckon Quent’ll want to hear about this.” He takes a drink from his glass then peers across it’s rim at the nearest ‘Azlanti’.

“Want to talk to one of those fish guys?”

"Ferdinand" raises his glass with the rest, but doesn't drink it. After all, if you're going to call someone's bluff, you want to be more sober than them. She might even be telling the truth, but the only thing that's at stake is respect, and he's got nothing to lose.

He steps forward, making a quick gesture as he does so. "Excuse me for interrupting, but how exactly did you discover the last living members of an ancient civilization?

Casting Detect Magic and using it on the Azlanti.

"Indeed... Empress.", says the tall Azlanti man by her side, smiling sardonically. You notice that his eyes are very wide and pale: they seem to drink the surrounding light. Neither he nor any of the other Azlanti radiate magic, though an amulet around Lady Vestang's neck has a faint aura.

Many of the other 150 or so guests are starting to act... strangely.

The Varisians in the moth costumes drop their entertainments and instruments and begin flapping their arms like wings, running about the Grand Hall.

The man with the rust monster mask begins rubbing his feathery mandibles against the silverwear. "I'm so hungry!", he whines,"So hungry!"

Four bees begin gathering up attractive vases, coinpurses and other small trinkets whilst buzzing about. A man in a squid mask walks backward through the crowd, finally latching onto Lady Albercroft, who elbows him off out of pure reflex. His hold broken, he runs off to extinguish nearby lights.

Ruggles Ironbeard in his boggard costume is grabbing plates, platters and vases only to smash them on the ground in an uncharacteristic fit of rage. "Shoddy construction! Hideous design! Poor execution! If it ain't Dwarven, it's crap!"

Will everyone that has had a drink, please make a Fortitude save?

Devious! And I’ve just realised I don’t have my saving throws listed on my character sheet…

“What in the Hells?”

Fort: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 13

“Heh,” comments Malatar quietly to Will, as they stand a distance back from their hostess, raising his glass. “Not what I expected. But might explain your problem with the artefacts then; not fakes or copies, but an evolution. Reckon Quent’ll want to hear about this.” He takes a drink from his glass then peers across it’s rim at the nearest ‘Azlanti’.

“Want to talk to one of those fish guys?”

"But it doesn't explain why they tried to make them all look old! Or why they would come back after decades of being gone! Or the stone, well, it might, if they;re amphibious, I reckon that stone found under the sea might have different properties,..." Will muses, his brow furrowed as he tries to categorize everything. You can almost see him wrestling with this new information, commanding it to make some sort of sense. His spinning wineglass splashes a bit of wine out onto his gloved hand.

"Oh, bother!" Will mutters, slamming down the wineglass upon the nearest table and wiping at his hand with his feathered cape. He looks up to see the guests starting to behave, oddly.

"What in the mazed mind of Nethys?!?" He mutters,...

DM, I had figured that Will would be so flabbergasted by the revelation, that he would forget all about his drink. BUT, as I did not SAY that until after you had asked us for a Fort save, I'll let you decide. :)

Just thought of something; Mal will need to make a save either way, as he’s had at least a couple of drinks through the night and drank from his toasting glass – BUT, do we just need to roll a save if we drank the toast, or if we’ve drunk AT ALL during the night?

Just the toast. There's only so much LSD to go around...

Addy is a bit taken aback by the "Reveal", but still drinks her toast down. She winces a bit with 'Ferd's' impolite question, but is still very flabbergasted at the sight of the fish-men.

Fortitude 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (9) + 1 = 10

For the Warden

"Ferdinand" looks out at the growing chaos with confusion. After a moment, he turns back to the lady, his voice cold. "Second question. Why reveal them *Gestures at Azlanti* when everyone's just going to be drugged out of their s'rdok minds!"

Just swearing in draconic, nothing to see here. Also, can I identify the aura on her amulet? 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (9) + 5 = 14

"How dare you accuse an Empress of such a crime, in her own court, no less!", Lady Vestang replies vehemently,"Thou brassy wyrm! My subjects are free to pursue their personal happiness under my enlightened rule and how dare you suggest otherwise!" She gestures grandly to the entire mad party. Come to think of it, she did drink the wine as well...
Your concentration is thrown by the escalating chaos of the masquerade, so you unfortunately can't identify the aura in question.

Her servant, Policrates she called him, bows to Lady Vestang and says,"Do not concern yourself with such distractions, Your Eminence. After all... only you can lead the Pilgrimage."

The gilled Azlanti move about the crowd, sometimes having a word with a guest here or there. A man dressed as a parrot mounts the balcony above the Grand Hall, flapping his arms and about to leap into the air... until Marten restrains him from behind. A woman dressed as a moth on the other side, however, isn't so lucky and dives to her death on the floor below. The three vultures comment from nearby:

"A swift death..."
"Surely a mercy we cannot all expect."
"But how best to prepare her?"

At Silas' side, a man in a bat mask grabs Lady Morrow's half-full glass from her hand, downs it in a gulp and hands back the empty vessel before flapping off. She seethes behind her mask.
"My acolyte! That foul creature has committed a grave offense against my holy person! We must seek vengeance! Come!"
She grabs a long and heavy (but mercifully dull and blunt) knife from a fallen tray and sets off after the fleeing bat.

Duke Sallin and his guards (snarling behind their wolf masks) advance on Mal.
"Godless brute! Infidel! Barbarian! Repent your sinful ways or in Abadar's name, I shall smite you!", he declares.

Addy's perception roll: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (5) + 8 = 13
You turn in time to see the tavern lad, Haerekoe, in his grinning trickster mask pulling some of the fancier costume jewelry pieces from your elaborate gown.

The girl Mabriel that was speaking to Malatar earlier rounds on Will, her back straight with righteous indignance.
"Thou foul and monstrous bird! To think the Empress would suffer the sight of your feathered hide! Get thee gone before I find cause to drive you away myself!"
She storms off... only to return a few seconds later.
"Oh! Noble beast! How dreadfully wrong I was! How blind to your true nature! We must serve our Empress side by side and leave our unpleasant past behind for a brighter future!"
Having forgiven you for... something... she strides away.

From the patio, you can hear a great commotion of squawking, hooting, neighing and shouting guests as an altogether more beastial and catlike growl cuts through the night.
"FEAR NOT, NOBLE GUESTS! FOR I, DUKE KENDLER SHALL SUBDUE TH- OOF!", shouts someone else on the patio.

So far everyone that's drank the wine hasn't felt any effects.

"How dare you accuse an Empress of such a crime, in her own court, no less!", Lady Vestang replies vehemently,"Thou brassy wyrm! My subjects are free to pursue their personal happiness under my enlightened rule and how dare you suggest otherwise!" She gestures grandly to the entire mad party. Come to think of it, she did drink the wine as well...
Your concentration is thrown by the escalating chaos of the masquerade, so you unfortunately can't identify the aura in question.

Her servant, Policrates she called him, bows to Lady Vestang and says,"Do not concern yourself with such distractions, Your Eminence. After all... only you can lead the Pilgrimage."

For now, let's say Bluff to make that exit suitably dramatic. If it's another Cha- skill, just subtract 5. 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (17) + 9 = 26

"Erm,... Yeah, Thanks,...?" Will mumbles, giving a small half-wave to the girl's retreating back. He looks around the room, his mask bobbing from side to side like watching a game of catch.

"Suffering Summonings! Of course! It wasn't the hostess, it was them!" Will cries, gesturing grandly at one of the fish-men. The declaration and gesture was definitely over the top, probably from one of the cheesier theater shows, and most assuredly too much for even a grand, noisy party. But in the midst of the current scene, it went basically unnoticed.

"We have to grab one! Make him tell us what they're up to! There has to be an, Anti, doh,... that can't be good,..." He mutters off, noticing the wolf-pack advancing upon Malatar. He begins fumbling under his feathered cape for his bag of components.

“You might be right there Will,” mutters Malatar, glancing down at his wine glass, then scanning the room for the nearest fish-man. Hells. If it’s something in the wine, why hasn’t it hit me? Or has it?

He begins speaking at the same time as Will. “Listen, if I start - ” But he’s cut off, not be Will, who he was speaking over, but Duke Sallin and his wolves. Frak. This I don’t need.

“Stand down you dung-sweeping popinjay,” Mal growls, pulling himself up to his full height, “and call off your dogs, before someone gets hurt.” Intimidate 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 = 14

Addy grabs the hand of the youngster, and says menacingly (and playing up the Pharasman priestess role), "So eager to join the ranks of those waiting to be judged, young sir? Leave the jewels, and go from here as fast as you can. Else the Lady of Graves shall see your soul this night."

Looking around at the carnage, she's a bit confused. {i]This was certainly unexpected," Addy thinks. Her first instinct is to look around, and see if she can spot Gorzal anywhere. I'm not even certain he got in tonight. Perception 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (3) + 8 = 11

Hearing Will's exclamation, she turns to him, "You sure they're the cause? This wouldn't be the first Taldan party that degenerated into a drug-hazed party." Still, the uncertainty in her voice is quite noticable, and seeing Duke Sallin's threats against Malatar, Addy quietly puts her hand on her hidden dagger, in case things get bad ...

Lady Vestang laughs triumphantly as "Ferdinand" stalks off.
"Yes! Flee my august presence, thou lowly wyrm! Our return to greatness is at hand! To me, my subjects! Let us return to where it started, that we might retrace our steps!"
The more lucid guests begin to assemble around the hostess and the one known as Policrates, the other Azlanti assisting in steering the guests back toward Lady Vestang.

The tavern lad laughs puckishly at "Lady Viviana's" rebuke.
"She may see, but she shall not grasp, for slippery Haerekoe is more quick than dead!"

Meanwhile, Duke Sallin pauses at Malatar's growl. His "hounds" lower their heads in fear. The warrior can see that they have taken their hands from the short swords hidden beneath their long cloaks.

"Well, er... perhaps... perhaps redemption shall have to wait for this one! Hark! But I hear some disturbance from the patio! Let us bring Abadar's light to that corner of the empire!"
There is indeed a great commotion coming from the back of the house: those few guests that haven't succumbed to the drugged wine are screaming for help, while others still hallucinating are hooting, gibbering and shrieking in a tone indistinguishable from the real animals out there. A catlike growl cuts the air.
The girl Mabriel speaks up from nearby in response to Duke Sallin's exclamation, holding aloft a kitchen knife.
"Indeed, I shall pledge my sword to your cause, sir! For our aims are the same! I shall sing one of our epics to inspire you to further feats of greatness!"
As she begins to sing an old Taldane epic song, Haerekoe speaks up as well:
"Aye, where there is derring-do to be done, the sly Haerekoe can be found! I shall join you in your adventure!"
Duke Sallin takes a moment to pose heroically before setting off for the patio.
"With my boon companions in tow, Abadar's favor and our Empress on the throne, what evil could possibly assail the noble Duke Sallin? NONE! HA HA!"
The three strike off for the chaos on the patio, the two wolf-masked guards behind them, even as other guests stumble into the great hall, bloody and bruised.

"Ferdinand" continues to push his way through the crowd when the trio make their speech. "Wait, is that Haerekoe? Yeah, it is! Damn, I better make sure wager something he wouldn't want to lose."

He begins to push his way towards the patio instead of the main exit. Assuming they were different directions in the first place.

"Ferdinand" continues to push his way through the crowd when the trio make their speech. "Wait, is that Haerekoe? Yeah, it is! Damn, I better make sure wager something he wouldn't want to lose."

He begins to push his way towards the patio instead of the main exit. Assuming they were different directions in the first place.

Ferdinand makes his way to the patio just before the "adventuring party", pushing his way through owls, squid and monkeys. A guest in a fish mask flops about on the ground, inching toward the outside.
"Can't... breathe...", he says.

The patio is a wide stone porch projecting perhaps thirty feet from the manor, three stone steps leading toward the beach. It is currently a hazardous mess: cages are knocked over with their animal charges nowhere to be seen. Three masked humans, including the peacock-masked Sir Kendler, lay bleeding on the ground, with perhaps five or six more hiding behind cages, cowering or just blithely standing by completely engaged in their hallucinations.

Pacing back and forth is the feline creature that was in the largest cage, its rhinestone collar still attached. Blood smears its jaws and claws and it lets out a low growl as it weighs its options.

Again, haven't got a map on hand, but you've got twenty-five feet or so between you and the cat, Zareby. It's still pacing, though it eyes you warily.

And Adelaine sees no sign of Gorzal.

"Now now, good kitty. Nice kitty..." "Ferdinand" steps back and makes an arcane gesture before raising his hands between the great cat and him.

Casting Shield, using one of my rounds of Claws so I can at least make an AoO if it charges, then moving back as far as I can without moving off the patio. Still need to make sure Haerekoe doesn't get himself killed.

Not seeing Gorzal anywhere, not getting any more response out of Will, and seeing things escalating beyond control, Addy follows after Zareby to the patio, drawing her dagger as she goes. When see gets there and sees the cat, she halts in her tracks and starts to back up very slowly. "No sudden moves, 'Ferd' ... looks like he's eaten already ..."

If I can ready an action to attack in case it pounces, I'll do that.

I'll give Mal and Will a chance to chime in before we continue with the patio party; I think Silas and Marten are staying inside...

"Tell me something I don't know. Still, a friend of mine's probably going to run out here and try to kill the thing, so I'll just stay here for now."

“Huh. It worked…” mutters Malatar. Then he hears the commotion from the patio, and sees Sallin and his makeshift entourage sally off in that direction, Mabriel amongst them. He sighs.

“The fish people in here may have to wait Will,” he says quietly, looking around. “Sounds like people are dying out there.”

The big warrior runs forward towards the patio doors (an easier feat without his normal armour on), drawing his sword as he goes, trying to beat Sallin and co, or at least arrive with them if not.

He draws short as he reaches the porch and sees the pacing predator. “Sh*t. Someone let the foreskin-cat out.” He holds his sword before him in both hands, looking warily at the creature, whilst taking account of those around him out of the corner of his eyes, noticing Ferdinand and Lady Albercroft amongst them. They seem coherent. Good. Those two can handle themselves in a fight anyway.