Having waited patiently to get into the building, Neville saw no reason to wander around if he couldn't find the lord of the manor. Still, hearing the housestaff's mention of the Vanderoys piqued his interest. He didn't know the name, but it would be worth checking them out whilst he waited.
Neville proceeds back outside to meet these guests.
Halaea was still near the entrance, actually, having stopped to fix her hair in the hall. She peeks out the front to see who is coming.
Terra peeks out of the window, watching as the Horse and Cart arrives.
Visitors, fisitors, fizzy tars! The place I'm in will surely be filled, when the place brims with dresses and frills.
As the people within the cart walk towards the Manor, Terra will quickly climb under the closest dining hall table to him, occasionally popping out to make smiley faces with the fruit, on each plate, at each table, when he feels the coast is clear.
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Blinking, the half-orc leans out to see the cart and its inhabitants emerge. He frowns upon seeing all the fuss over their arrival and scratches his rough, thick jaw while continuing to peer outside.
Nobles or some people of chief-like importance to this place of polished stone and tamed growth. I can only wonder what trivial thing they said or did to gain such arrogant status.
With great pomp, three finely dressed aristocrats step out from the carriage.
First of all comes Lord Vanderoy himself, a tall balding man with a great handlebar mustache. The man takes the Emperor card.
His wife, Lady Vanderoy is a svelte and almost vulture like woman, dressed in finery. She takes the Empress card.
Then, their son Henry Vanderoy, a short pudgy lad looking none the best in a suit and carrying some sort of sweet pastry, chooses the Chariot.
The three of them make their way inside. The lord and lady make their way to the backyard while Henry makes a beeline to the banquet hall.
Ooooooooooooo, someone's coming. Best to stay hidden I'd say!
Those watching closely might notice Aeyra stiffen the smallest bit as she sees the aristocrats. Nevertheless, as they pass she puts on her little smile "Hello, are you all here for the dinner as well?" Against her best interest, she still runs through the old routine Finely dressed. Walk with pri...arrogance. Kid seperates, they're going to the backyard" then she blinks Not here for that, keep your head cool and your hands in your own pockets
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Letting out a mirthful laugh after seeing the new arrivals, the less civilized half-orc smirks to himself and nods.
Better than I thought, an entire family of dandified fat cats! Well...I suppose the only one truly hefty is their pup. Would be quite a treat for some predator if he found himself in the wild.
Noirak continues to grin as the group ambles off to their destinations. He turns his head to look at the Sergeant and gauge his reaction to the march of moguls.
Neville considers the trio as they leave the carriage. He immediately disregards the youngest of the three: the child will without a doubt grow to be either a tax-fraud, an underpaying employor or an avid client of women-of-negotiable-affection but for the moment he is nothing more than a spoilt infant.
The parents on the other hand are hard to get a reading of . Their narrow frames seem at odd with the decadence of their child, and whilst they clearly consider themselves most elite, there seems to be something out of sorts with them.
For lack of anything better to do, Neville follows them to the backyard and begins to talk to them.
"Good evening to you lord and lady Vanderoy. My name is Sergeant Neville of the Pavaleau guard, and I've unfortunately not had the pleasure of meeting you both. I try to keep abreast of the inhabitants of the area: are you both local or have you travelled here for this evening soiree?"
While Lord Vanderoy shakes Neville's hand warmly, seemingly opening up to the authority figure in the Sergeant, a loud bell rings from the courtyard.
Everyone turns to see the rest of the carriage's arrive.
To be brief, the attendees are:
- Mr. and Mrs. Billois. The Mr. is head of a local banking guild and the Mrs. is a known seamstress.
- Claire de la Rose: A singer at a local bar. Rumors say that she also does some... side jobs.
- Gilles Blackenvatt: A famed writer-poet who seems genuinely happy to be here.
- A group of eight gentlemen who keep to themselves. Each of them looks the merchant or businessman. In order their sir names are: Morricks, Edgins, Paulson, Levoie, Castelknot, Osion, Savata and Werks.
- An aged lady by the name of Madam Pompanoix and her assistant/fencing protege, Eveline Reine.
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As the processions slows, the Tarot cards are drawn and everyone quietly mills around the house until the call for dinner rings and everyone finds their seat.
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With the arrival of such a prominent number of higher-class people, all dressed to the nines, Noirak shifts uncomfortably as they make their ways past him and into the rest of the house. Shuddering, he can't help but picture himself being surrounded by thousands of squirming snakes. Shaking the image from his head, he does his best to edge his way past the bustling company to isolate himself somewhat before the summons is sounded for dinner.
Group by group Aeyra approaches each of the new arrivals
"Oh I just love your work Mrs.Billois, and I heard the banking guild is doing quite good lately"
"Oh are you really Claire? I visited the bar last night and just loved your performance"
"Well hello there Mr.Blackenvatt, I've heard you're quite the poet. I'd like to hear something from you sometime"
"Eveline correct? Your fencing skills are well known, perhaps we could spar sometime" she says with a little chuckle
Putting on her best flirtatious smile "Gentlemen, always nice to see men who still like some of the finer things in life" she tries to slowly coax them to talk to her
Diplomacy
The gentlemen seems visibly impressed, and a few loose stares angle downwards past your face. They seem rather open and one of them, Morricks, seems particularly attentive and soon splits off from his group to walk with you and keep you company.
Aeyra leads Morricks outside to the garden, admiring the foliage. After a minute she finds a place to sit and sets next to him, just close enough to brush his skin occasionally "It's so rare to find gentlemen nowadays, what brings you here?"
As you prepare to find your seats in the Dining Hall, the majordomo asks that the one person without a Tarot card please step forth.
Mr. Werks does, looking slightly embarrassed.
The majordomo simply smiles and hands him a small envelope. Mr. Werks looks inside, smiles too, pockets it and then returns to sit down.
Everyone is free to talk with the others at the table, the fruit faces being a popular subject.
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The hulking form of the primal half-orc squeezes into his appointed chair, looking bemused at the face of fruit arranged on his and the plate of everyone else. Noirak looks off to either side to see what guests are seated nearest him, possibly engaging in a struggled dialogue if he finds them interesting enough to warrant communication. Otherwise, the barbarian will sit uncomfortably, waiting for the event to begin in earnest.
Aeyra curls her lip in amusement Would it be wrong to eat art or to let fruit spoil? she remains mostly quiet but pays attention, nodding and smiling at others remarks
The sergeant seems quite confused when the majordomo informs him that he has a seat at the table. After all, he is only here to investigate. "Still, a meal is a meal". As Neville takes his seat, he looks wistfully at the face staring up at him. His father had often drawn faces on his eggs when he refused to eat them as a child. How long ago that was....
Neville looks around to see who he's seated near to try and strike up a conversation ad maybe gain some information about their host.
Terra begins crawling under the table towards the exit, avoiding feet as the guests sit down.
Oh my, now all of the guesty guests are here. Look at all the feetylings! Yum yum! What I would like is to want these people to not see myself under this table. Yes, the table that I am under!
The Terra man needs to make his GRAND entrance and it has to be the grandest entrance yet! Oooooh what fun we must have today! I'll sneak out from this table and then walk back on myself towards my seat! Nobodyfoddycoddy will notice my hidey hole seeky game. LET THE GAMES BEGIN!
Casual chatter fills the room, Terra's antics succeeding quite evidently.
As the eating begins, a waiter comes around to ask what wines or ales each guest would enjoy.
With a polite smile Aeyra asks for a water
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Struggling to describe what he wishes to drink, the orc makes motions with his wide hands to indicate he would like a mug of dark grog. "Heavy, dark, big drink," he affirms before blinking at the women seated to either side of him.
We'll be asked to fill ourselves on dainty scraps fit for a small dog, I'm sure, he thinks pessimistically to himself, still keeping himself from holding the higher class in good regard.
"Do you have any Taldan Fire-Brandy?" Neville asks of a passing waitstaff. One couldn't hurt.
Terra escapes from under the table and leaves the room without catching the attention of anyone.
Standing in the hallway, he now wonders about what he should do with himself.
Inny back there I go, or....investigate more this big ol funny placey place? Well, it is dinny dins time and I do love the tea that is mine, so my entraaaaaaaance trance entry will be about now.
Moonwalking in through the entrance backwards, Terra enters sipping a cup of tea.
As he approaches the table, he throws his teacup into the air and backflips onto the table, narrowly avoiding the plates and fruit faces he had previously tampered with, before spinning on the spot, lowering his hat from his head to bow, and holding his hand out to catch his teacup.
At this point he starts walking across the table towards his seat, lifting each leg vertically into the air as he goes.
Lady-wadies, Gentle-len-men and all those not under my categories, I AM TERRA DAHM! Tea is my special.....tea? Specialty is my tea. I have flavoursome brews and brews full of flavour. I bet you've never sampled Terra's terribly tealy pot of tea trinkets? It's spiffingly brewsome...though you may refer to that as awesome. Yes, be in awe. My tea is full of greatness!
The man then jumps into his seat and sits in it, perched on his feet, with his knee's up by his head, looking around grinning, with a weird look in his bizarre eyes, almost as if he's on something....Opium perhaps?
Aeyra smiles at Terra's display Well we have at least one free soul at this party
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Blinking, Noirak doesn't know exactly how to react but the perceived distaste that's likely to radiate from the many aristocrats about would certainly please the uncivilized brute. Indeed, if groans or starts are heard from any of such a manner, the barbarian shines a toothsome grin before folding his prodigious veridian arms and nodding his approval.
The guests seem stunned at Terra's entrance. One of the men can be heard whispering, "Where in the bloody hell did he come from?"
A loud noise interrupts the stunned silence. Turning around, you see that one of the windows had been flung open, and a large gust of wind blows into the room.
Two waiters rush to close it, lest the cold wind ruin the fete.
Oh my, what a strong windywind. Perhappings this Manor is haunted, hahahaha! Ectoplasm for my latest brew of tea? YIPEE! says the man, as the window blows open, loud enough for anyone in the room to hear.