Argor says nothing until Cladissa finishes her scolding, then yells, "Because if we are going to survive this formula's affects, I need proper facilities to study this!" producing the vial of the doctor's remains and holding it in front of Cladissa's eyes.
"We all volunteered for this, each for our own reasons, knowing death could happen. But seeing as we haven't died yet, I don't want to let my own lack of knowledge on its workings let me end up a puddle like our late friend here." Argor raises the vial for emphasis. "And to do that, I need proper facilities, assistants, and yes, servants to reduce the need to address basic distractions. The rest of you may not value your lives, but I am quite fond of mine, and intend to live a long life. If you all help me, I am willing to share my discoveries regarding this formula to keep you safe as well, but if you aren't interested and would rather risk it, I won't twist your arms."
After his tirade, Argor returns the vial to it's hidden location beneath his robes and storms out of the room, and stands silently outside looking over what passed as a garden here.
Cladissa remains silent and fully abashed after Argor strides away. She glances down at her hands, noting the rough pads and small, tough nails that had helped her climb so effortlessly last night. That wasn't a dream, was it?
She looks up from her hands and meets the eyes of Grommuk and Hrimnagel. Then she stands up and collects her share of the coins earned. She softly pads out of the room, tail twitching beneath her skirt.
Seeing Argor's back turned to her, she pauses. You-- you're right, she says quietly, head down. Um. I'm sorry; I was scared, but that won't do any good. So... I'll help. I'll help you.
She moves back into the common room and sits back down, curling her legs up underneath her. She draws Cole into her lap and starts petting him.
Cole tucks his tail under his chin and curls up into a ball on Cladissa's lap. He starts to purr contentedly.
Argor smiles to himself when Cladissa agrees to join him in his venture. "Finally, she comes around."
Before Cladissa departs, Argor turns and lifts her chin with his gloved hand. "Cladissa, there is nothing more to be scared of about this formula than there is to be scared of using your own magics. We always put ourselves at risk when we dabble in things we don't fully understand, and the doctor paid that price by mixing up concoctions and combining them with the serum when he did not take the proper time to test the reactions. Neither of us rely on such...primitive methods to perform our art, and so far, we have been fine."
Argor reaches up and moves one of the dangling dark tresses of hair and puts it behind the girl's ear. "And I have a theory that this serum enhances the latent abilities of it's host. It improved Grommuk's strength and physical brawn. It enhanced the svirfneblin's ability to hide in shadows, something their race is naturally inclined to do. With you, the formula unlocked the inherent grace you possess by manipulating, I believe, your bond to your familiar. If it relies on the qualities of it's host, then I believe that the host can also control the affects it has on them, with understanding and practice. And once we manage to understand how," Argor looks down to his gloved hands, "I am certain we can undo the negative qualities of these transformations."
He then looks into her eyes, and the excitement returns to his voice. "But first, we either need to get the others on board, or find a new location. Grommuk's only concern is food, and I doubt he has an understanding of just how much coin he has gained. Hrim, however, seems steadfast against the idea. If we cannot get him on board, I do not plan to use our hard earned coin to let him free-load. He seems to have a grudge against me, but perhaps he will listen to you."
Argor walks beside Cladissa as they return to the manor proper, and says on the way, "I need to go prepare some new scrolls, in case we are called upon again. See if you can talk some sense into the deep gnome. Then, when we know what our situation is, we can look into what needs be done." He then turns and walks up to his chambers.
__________
Hrimnagel senses the manipulation of Argor and ignores it. He has lived with servants and politics and prefers a simple life. He silently aligns with Grommuk and waits to see how Cladissa reacts.
He would accompany Grommuk or Cladissa shopping if they go in the first couple of days. If they do not, he would go by himself. Hrimnagel searches for a Tien armorer or three. He trades in his small lamellar leather armor for a suit of masterwork.
For his second project, Hrimnagel explores the basement looking for stone. Each day, he asks a different area of stone for its story. If he stops getting new information in the basement within the week, he searches for any natural or worked stone elsewhere in the house: potentially a fireplace, in the kitchen, steps, etc. In addition if he can find a suitable area in the basement out of the way, he shapes some stone into a small alter to Count Renalc and recliner for himself.
Now that Hrimnagel is an official Pathfinder, he begins a personal journal of his Pathfinder mission in the form of the chronicles that he read and fell in love with. He scribes this alone in his room or on his recliner in the basement.
For his last project to start this week, wherever Hrimnagel walks in practices his detect alignment.
There is a lot of stone in the villa, all of it quarried locally on the isle of Kortos. The oldest stones are around two hundred years old, some are as young as a hundred (obviously since they were quarried, not formed). They don't have any secrets, just tales of many feet and hands that have touched them over the years. Most of them have never talked to anyone before, and aren't very good conversationalists.
Cladissa lets Cole's presence put her at ease. As she pets him, she thinks on the conversation with Argor and his points. He's so sure of himself. And he's right on a lot of these things. But isn't he getting ahead of himself?
She shifts positions and frees her tail from beneath her skirt. She grabs it and looks at it, marvelling at its very existence. My bond. Grommuk's strength. Hrim's shadows. Then what is Argor turning into? What's beneath that mask? She shudders reflexively and turns her mind towards other things.
After a little while of petting her familiar, she feels better. She feels a corresponding rumbling in her own chest and it dawns on her that she's purring along with Cole. She coughs suddenly which causes the cat to dash off her lap and she stands abruptly.
Hrim, did you say you were going in to town? Can I come?
Images of banquets with a full spread of offerings dominates Grommuk's mind: baked turkeys, roasted boar, and succulent sirloins lining tables that stretch on seemingly forever. He sits atop an enormous throne made from the broken bones of creatures felled by his hand—some of which constitute the enormous feast that lay out before him. This would be a daily occurrence. Feasts unending, and in his honor. The "civilized" races would wait on him. He would be the emperor of the Pathfinders and eat like one of those Runelords the smart kids were always babbling on about.
Grommuk wipes away the river of saliva that has begun to swim about his jowls. "Cooks! Food! Cooks cook food! How much jink for food cooking cooks?" As if producing the money is enough, he begins counting through his own purses. Expectations of delay are discounted; clearly the staff would manifest immediately and serve him tonight.
"Grommuk Many-Coins!" the brute barks out with an immense grin. "When cooks get here?"
"Yes, Cladissa. I need to find an armorer. Would you like to go shopping?"
She stares wide-eyed at Grommuk's outburst in favor of a cook staff. She pulls her eyes away from the giant cautiously, then nods to Hrimnagel. Yes. I think we need to get some food quickly. I wouldn't know what to do with wearing armor, but I'll be happy to go along while you look.
When they leave, she pads along lightly with the gnome, still unused to her new gait. Even though her skirts hide her changed feet, once they emerge into the public streets she tries to disguise them by trying to walk normally, which causes her to stagger drunkenly. She finally settles into a sashaying gait that causes her cheeks to color. This is... embarrassing, she mutters to Hrimnagel.
After watching Hrimnagel select his new armor, she asks him, Do you think we ought to hire a cooking staff? I grew up in households with staff, but I never had to do the hiring. So that'll be new.
Hrimnagel enjoys the invitation and quiet company. He does not know what to say to her feeling embarrassed. His pale skin and stark white beard have always been the object of fascination ever since his arrival, despite Absalom being the largest and most diverse city in Golarion. He has practice ignoring the stares and whispered comments. Maybe she is mistaking some of the staring at him as focus on her?
It was the third armorer that had want he needed. His new armor fit like a second skin. It was challenging when armorer kept thinking Hrimnagel had abandoned the sale, even though he was in front of the armorer covered in shadows. Annoying, but probably adaptable.
The deep gnome was a bit surprised with Cladissa's directness on the walk home. After he clears his throat, Hrimnagel replies in his small thin voice, "Yes, I enjoyed servants in my childhood as well. My years away from home have not missed them. On the other hand, our years at the Lodge have also trained us to rely on others for the basics of food and shelter."
After a brief pause, "My biggest concern is finances. While I currently possess more gold than I've seen since I left home, I'm reluctant to start a relationship with servants and creating a household without the assurance of capital or continuing cash flow. Maybe if we become more successful, it would be worthwhile. However, in the short term, there's more to gain by frequenting local pubs and restaurants than simple sustenance: friends and information." He shrugs in conclusion.
Cladissa nods. True, but I wonder if Grommuk is already convinced that we're going to have kitchen staff. I'm not the best cook, myself. She looks away, pensively, and a little green. And what I've been eating, lately...
She turns back to Hrimnagel. Let's at least get something to take back with us. What do you say?
"Lead on," Hrimnagel replies and wonders to himself, if she's using the excuse that she's not the best cook, she's either not listening or rationalizing following Argor.
Argor finds that he is too distracted at the moment to scribe any further, and happens to look out his window to see Cladissa and Hrimnagel walk off.
He stands and stretches, and sees the Grand Lodge's grounds in the distance. He gathers up his staff, and whistles for Arctyryx to come along. He gathers his coin purse and heads to the Lodge.
When he arrives, he regards the doorman and says, "I would like to speak with the clerk responsible for the maintenance of the manor down the street."
He waits patiently for the clerk to admit him to his office, and once inside, Argor says without being asked, "I would like to make arrangements to purchase the property we are residing in on a payment plan, as well as have it properly stocked and staffed. We are in need of ample food stores, as well as competent waitstaff and cooks."
He then places 12 platinum pieces on the desk in one column, and then two more stacks of platinum numbering 10 each. "I believe this is enough to hire the staff I require at this time," gesturing to the first stack. "The second and third is what I am willing to pay as an initial payment on the property and to have it properly furnished in the common rooms! as well as stocked with the aforementioned food stores."
He then leans back in his chair, awaiting the clerks response.
Stopping by one of the outdoor food markets, Cladissa gets distracted by the fishmarket, then buys three meals to go and lugs the food back to the villa.
Shouting to Grommuk as she enters, No cooks here yet! But the food made it! She sets three packaged meals on the table and unwraps a freshly-caught fish for herself. She looks around at the others sheepishly. Maybe I shouldn't. You know, maybe I should try to fight these changes. But it just smells soo good.
Argor finds that he is too distracted at the moment to scribe any further, and happens to look out his window to see Cladissa and Hrimnagel walk off.
He stands and stretches, and sees the Grand Lodge's grounds in the distance. He gathers up his staff, and whistles for Arctyryx to come along. He gathers his coin purse and heads to the Lodge.
When he arrives, he regards the doorman and says, "I would like to speak with the clerk responsible for the maintenance of the manor down the street."
He waits patiently for the clerk to admit him to his office, and once inside, Argor says without being asked, "I would like to make arrangements to purchase the property we are residing in on a payment plan, as well as have it properly stocked and staffed. We are in need of ample food stores, as well as competent waitstaff and cooks."
He then places 12 platinum pieces on the desk in one column, and then two more stacks of platinum numbering 10 each. "I believe this is enough to hire the staff I require at this time," gesturing to the first stack. "The second and third is what I am willing to pay as an initial payment on the property and to have it properly furnished in the common rooms! as well as stocked with the aforementioned food stores."
He then leans back in his chair, awaiting the clerks response.
[dice=Diplomacy if needed, but hoping that cash talks...]1d20 - 1
"Well, the Society would be happy to sell you the property through incremental payments. There are just a few conditions. You will need to sign a contract where the property reverts to the Society should you ever perish, appropriate compensation would be given to your estate of course; and you would need to sign a non-competition agreement. No artifact collecting, and no libraries or published periodicals that aren't freely available to all Pathfinders and approved by the Grand Lodge. As for servants and waitstaff, we are not in that business. There are numerous fine agents in the Foreign Quarter who might set you up with a household staff for the appropriate fees. Likewise, the Society is not in the grocery business, you will need to arrange for your own food deliveries, or hire someone to do it for you." The clerk pushes the stack of 12 coins back to Argor. "Will you be purchasing the property alone, or in conjunction with the other residents?"
Argor scowls beneath his mask. He reaches out and retrieves all three stacks, and says, "With that many conditions regarding my personal life, I won't be purchasing anything. I should have known the Society would want to find a way to legally meddle in my private affairs."
He then stands and storms out of the Lodge, and returns to the Manor with a look of anger on his face, hidden all but the seething black eyes by his mask. He enters the manor moments after Cladissa and Hrimnagel, and walks over to his usual seat in the den while ranting, "Well, this manor just won't do. The Society is willing to sell it to us, but only if we essentially sign over our entire lives!"
Five minutes after Cladissa announces the lack of cooks, Hrimnagel tells Grommuk that there's pub serving their kind where they can go for supper.
Cladissa watches quietly as Argor rants. She gestures to the food on the table in an invitation to sit down and eat.
She chews silently for a moment, then looks to him. I thought you wanted to be a member of the Society, she says politely.
Argor smirks beneath his mask, and says, "Myself, for the moment. Not everyone is on board with the idea. I will allow them to continue residence there, however, until the house has been fully purchased. If they change their minds and would like to join this venture, I am willing to amend the contract."
He then slides one of the stacks of ten platinum across the table and signs the documents. "Little does this clerk know...I intend to live forever, as well as make the Pathfinder Society mine to command. This little contract is nothing to me."
"At 100 gold a month, for the stated price of 6,500, this will be paid off in just under five and a half years. However, I may make larger payments than this, should the spare coin be available."
Once everything is finalized, he goes to the foreign quarter and makes arrangements to hire staff, namely a cook, two maids, a butler, as well as a live-in butler in case there was a need to be addressed at night. He also uses his other ten platinum to purchase adequate food stores for the manor.
When he finally makes his way back to the manor, he has a seat in his usual seat and says, "I've made arrangements to have some staff and supplies delivered to the manor. They should be arriving shortly."
__________
Cladissa gestures to the meal she had purchased for him, and nods. Okay. You took care of that already? Wow. Are they... aware of us? she motions to Hrimnagel and Grommuk while her tail twitches in the air. She'll discuss the expected expenses and work out her share of the costs for the wait staff at supper.
After finishing, she excuses herself from the table. I'm going to do some more shopping tomorrow, she announces. I'm going to try to find some more suitable clothing and hopefully find some new shoes, since nothing fits anymore. Hrimnagel, would you like to join me again?
Grommuk rumbles out an appreciative mmmmmm when Cladissa returns with a meal. The glorious banquets would have to wait for another time, but it was still a far cry better than living off of rat jerky in The Puddles.
"Grommuk likes kitty-girl. Maybe go eat shop tomorrow, gnome-friend?" He tears into his meal with the same bestiality all have come to expect from him, matching stains appearing on chin and table alike as he slops the food down. He finishes by draining a cup of water and drawing a massive forearm across his mouth. Then he belches and reclines in comfort, adding further strain to an already soon-to-splinter chair.
Argor simply watches as the others eat, and if questioned, simply states, "I am not hungry at the moment. I will take my meal later.". He is transfixed on the savagery being displayed by Grommuk over his meal, and for the briefest of moments, Argor pieties the work in store for the staff when they arrive.
When Cladissa mentions shopping for custom clothing, Argor states, "There is a seamstress nearby that has done work for me in the past, as well as recent. She was not...accustomed...to the changes I had went through, but it did not hinder her work any," he gestures to his new mask.
Hrimnagel agrees to go shopping with Cladissa.
He thinks Grommuk wants to go with to a resto so will go along, too.
Hrimnagel talks to some stones, and goes and buys new armor. Argor scribes a scroll, then goes to the Grand Lodge, then goes to hire servants and order food, then goes back to the villa and scribes three more scrolls before collapsing into exhaustion. Cladissa and Hrimnagel go to buy restaurant food when he returns from buying armor, they eat wtih Grommuk.
An hour or so after dawn on the second day there is a polite knock on the front door of the villa.
Argor will answer the door, as he is expecting the arrival of supplies and the staff.
Standing in at the door is a young half elven woman with her blonde hair up in a conservative bun. She's quite beautiful, with her elven features. Her overly large irises are a shade of light, translucent blue. She wearing a modest calf-length tunic dress with a row of buttons up to her throat and a folded down collar. Over her dress she has a long grey cardigan. For footwear she has plain, utilitarian black flats. She stands with both hands holding a small notebook in front of her waist.
Behind her stand a fat little middle aged halfling man, with a shaved head and face wearing a chef's uniform, two middle aged human women in maid's outfits, and an older bearded human man, with a bundle of tools over his shoulder and work gloves on.
The half elven woman curtsies deeply to Argor. "Guud morning, sir. I am Jannicke (yah-niccah) Legrand. These are Mr. Goodpies, Mrs. Heidrich, Mrs. Slavik, and Mr. DaLuca," she says indicating the cook, two maids and groundskeeper in turn. "We have been sent by Dantares Domestic Service Co. to establish your household. Might we come in?"
"Indeed," Argor replies as he gestures for them to enter. "I am Argor Constantine. There are three other inhabitants that dwell here, an Orc, a woman with cat-like features, and, should he grace you with his presence rather than lurk in a shadow somewhere, a svirfneblin. I will allow them to introduce themselves as they awaken. For now, Ms. Legrand, allow me to show you to your quarters."
He leads the woman upstairs and to the room once held by Cyrill, and opens the door. "Feel free to make yourself at home in here. I trust you can put the others to task once you are settled. I shall be in my chambers down the hall."
The wizard then returns to his room and resumes his scrollwork.
Before Argor leaves, Jannicke says "Thank you, sir. Do you have any specific requests at the moment, or do you leave everything to my judgement?"
Stopping and speaking over his shoulder, he replies, "I have none at the moment, aside from making sure the rest of the staff see to anything that needs done around the place. The others may have special requests, however."
Argor takes a few more steps then stops again, adding, "For your information, Grommuk, the Orc, will most likely be hungry. May want to have the halfling get a head start on breakfast. As for me, I shall take my meals in my chambers for now."
"Yes, sir," she says with a curtsy, and immediately goes back downstairs to give the other staff orders. The maids she sets to properly cleaning the place from top to bottom. Mr. DaLuca begins the unenviable task of setting the gardens to right, while Mr. Goodpies oversees the food delivery and begins cooking breakfast.
Within an hour breakfast is served in the dining room. There are fresh fruit imported from Garund, scrambled eggs, flat bread (fried and toasted), cheese, olives, and three roast chickens spread on the table. Mr. Goodpies stands in the door to the dining room, loitering to make sure his first meal for his new employers is satisfactory.
Meantime the house is already looking a lot better inside and out due to the ministrations of the maids and groundskeeper.
Cladissa steps lightly downstairs after working on her spellcasting with Cole. She's a bit wide-eyed and nervous as the new servants go about their work. She nods and smiles without showing her teeth, and mumbles greetings as she passes them. Cole, in true feline fashion, retreats to a safe location in order to study the invaders.
Sitting down at the breakfast table, she favors the chicken and the eggs, passing over the fruit entirely.
The maids' eyes go wide the first time the see Cladissa, but they are professional and his the reaction immediately. "Good morning, m'am" the mutter, keeping their eyes down. "Would you like us to clean your chamber?"
Mr. Goodpies notes Cladissa's preference for meat. As well as the breakfast choices of the other Pathfinders.
Hrimnagel will shop with Cladissa for a bandolier and a couple of alchemist fires, just in case. Otherwise, he is done.
He will also agree to share the bill for the house maintenance, as soon as it is revealed to be 11 gp per month. He can match Argor's five month commitment.
Heart thudding in irrational nervousness, Cladissa enters the shop, lightly balanced on her new feet again concealed beneath a floor-length skirt. She approaches the proprietor and leans forward in an almost conspiratorial move. Um. I need new, um, shoes? Do you still call them shoes? She glances about the shop to see if anyone else is listening in.
Flushing in embarrassment, she lifts up her skirt to reveal her feet-- or are they paws? This happened... somewhat recently. If it matters.
The catfolk proprietor looks at Cladissa a little strangely, but seemingly not because of her feet. "I see. Well, what manner of shoes, yes they are called shoes, do you want miss?" The tiger-like man adjusts his monacle and strokes his whiskers while examining Cladissa's feet and awaiting her response.
Looking at the actual makes and styles for the first time, she picks out a few pair; the softpaw boots for sure, then a couple more mundane styles for daily living. Her nervousness subsides somewhat, although she still feels like she's invading and potentially insulting an entire race of people. But the feet, fur and tail she now sports have put her more in common with the feline race rather than her own. She swallows her timidity and watches to see if this shopkeep accepts her.
The following morning, Argor awakes and looks out the window. He spots Mr. DaLuca tending to some shrubbery in the front lawn, and smiles to himself, knowing that finally this place would be a place fit for someone of his qualifications. He turns and walks to the center of the room, and uses his magic to cleanse himself as well as his clothes, and to tidy up the room. Not that he was trying to spare the maids any work, but he would just rather not have them tinkering around his chambers more than necessary.
He then turned and looked in the mirror to make sure he was appropriately prepared to venture out, and nearly jumped back when he was reminded of his newest manifestation of the serum. Once he regained his composure, he stared at his reflection for several minutes, disgusted at what he had become. He reaches over and grasps the mask and gloves from the top of the dresser and puts them on, and then levitated his staff to his hand and said, "Come along, Arctyryx. Lets see how the place improved."
Argor makes his way down the upstairs hall and down the stairs, appraising everything as he goes. The maids and Ms. Legrand had done their work well, so it seemed. The place appeared spotless at last, and the smells coming from the kitchen were equally as pleasing to the mages senses.
He passes by the two maids setting the table for breakfast, and halts one of them as they carry a fourth plate out. "Ma'am, I will continue to take my meals in private. I believe I shall dine in the study this morning, however." He then continues on his tour.
As he enters the den, he spots Ms. Legrand and nods a greeting her direction. She was an attractive specimen of the half-elven form, the elven heritage providing a welcome respite to the mutations that were overtaking the group of Pathfinders. He also took note that she has yet to correct him when he regards her as Ms. instead of Mrs...
"Ms. Legrand. How are you getting settled in?" he says as he makes his way to his preferred seat in the room.
Looking at the actual makes and styles for the first time, she picks out a few pair; the softpaw boots for sure, then a couple more mundane styles for daily living. Her nervousness subsides somewhat, although she still feels like she's invading and potentially insulting an entire race of people. But the feet, fur and tail she now sports have put her more in common with the feline race rather than her own. She swallows her timidity and watches to see if this shopkeep accepts her.
The shopkeeper seems a little unsure why Cladissa is so nervous, but he has no problem accepting her. He knows she's not catfolk (or he would talk to her in their racial tongue), he probably assumes her to be some manner of Aasimar or Tiefling. He is very knowledgeable about his wares, and helpful in picking shoes that are a perfect fit and match Cladissa's style. Once they've finished he takes her money, thanks her and asks her to please come back should she have further footwear needs.