Duran's Spooky Stuff

Game Master Nidoran Duran

To whom it may concern,

If you are willing to help, please make haste to The Gilded Unicorn in Absalom. It is one of the finest inns in the city, and within this envelope you will find the key to a room that has already been paid through the next month. Lay low there and await further correspondence. Discretion is vital. I promise a reward for your consideration of my offer that will make up for the travel and the mystery.

The letter finds you no matter where you are, no matter how far removed from anyone who knows your name. It's carried on the clanging wings of a clockwork carrier pidgeon, an odd piece of mechanical work that flutters by, drops the letter, and just as swiftly leaves before you can process any of what's happened, without any discernable means of actually navigating anything or finding you. But as you look back down at the letter, the least of your problems seem to be the nagivating ability of mail delivering constructs.

Whatever your reason, a sense of duty to answer this call for aid or mere curiosity about the intentionally vague wordings and postal capabilities you never knew possible, you find your way in front of The Gilded Unicorn nonetheless, and you can't say you're particularly stunned by what stands before you. "One of the finest inns in the city" seems rather average as far as inns go, intact and clean but hardly a lavish lap of luxury like the wording implied and like anyone would hope for. But at least you're not footing the bill for whatever you're about to get into.

The interior is a little bit nicer, still rather middle of the road as far as inns go, but the ground floor tavern is not only tidy, but composed in the middle of the afternoon, with a few scattered people sitting alone or in pairs at tables. It's quiet and peaceful, in a good enough part of town to not be flooded with mid-afternoon drunkards already causing far too much noise and chaos. A kindly old dwarven woman sits at the counter, alternating between looking to the door and looking at a log book opened up before her.

Just make your entrance, we'll move on once everyone's arrived.

With a bored, almost irritated expression on her face, the blonde looked around the bar, trying to get every detail to memory. Anyone who looked like they were either out of place or too inconspicuous to be a regular citizen was noted, and she made her way to the counter, sitting between some men and setting her backpack down next to her seat after pulling the envelope from said pack.

Looking to the dwarf, she set the envelope down and removed the key. "I was told that this key is for a room which has been paid for already," she stated, brows peaked in curiosity, awaiting an answer as she set the metal object down on the counter gently, barely a noise being made from it. Something was quite suspicious about all of this, damn near shady even, like some scam run by a snake oil salesmen or a gang of muggers. Either way, she was there, and there was only one way to find out if it was legitimate or not, though, that hand of hers subtly reaching for the hilt of the weapon on her hip was not necessarily the best sign of an easy victim.

Shortly after she'd received her letter, Mirabelle rushed off to Absolom, much to her mother's chagrin. Still, the pull of a new lead, and a new adventure, was too great to resist.

After arriving that morning, she'd spent a little time walking around the city, taking in the sights as she took a scenic route to the inn. She arrived afternoon and was happy to be back indoors. There seemed to already be someone at the counter, so instead she found an empty table to sit at.

She let her pack fall next to her, then reached up to make sure her pins were where she'd left them. Two golden hair pins, each decorated with a single gem, held her curly black hair back. She was worried someone might snatch them while in the city but, thankfully, no one had attempted it.

She glanced back over at the counter where a woman was talking to the older Dwarf. She looked out the window, then slightly shifted her position, hoping to hear their conversation. She played with her own key, rolling it between her fingers as she listened.

The Scaley-Skinned Woman stood at the front of the Inn, clutching an envelope with her bony claws. A cloak was draped over the girl, making sure that no one could manage to figure out her visage. Despite being locally famous, there were those who would want to put her to death for what she was. She pulled a key from the envelope, staring at it with her mismatched irises, before slipping it away and entering the establishment, a dreadful presence following her.

She hoped that her entrance was not to be noticed. She quickly moved her frame toward an empty seat, taking a seat. Her eyes fell to the Elderly Dwarf, then to the other drunkards sharing the room with her. The Gray-Skinned woman muttered phrases most would find incomprehensible, as if she were having a conversation. The woman tapped a claw against the wooden table of the counter, idly toying with the key she had received. Her ears twitched as she listened silently to the conversation the Dwarf and the Blonde were having, though she didn't listen for long. If one were to look closely, one might spot a tail, swishing back and forth behind the 'Abomination', as some would call her.

As it turned out, Shiro lived within walking distance of The Gilded Unicorn. It seemed an odd neighborhood for what was, according the letter held tight to his breast, such a fine establishment; certainly a safe and pleasant neighborhood, but hardly a lavish one.

Now that he was in front of the place, he could say it hardly looked lavish either. He was beginning to suspect that whoever had penned the letter was perhaps rather prone to exaggeration, between this anomaly and all the dramatic talk of "creatures beyond death" and "horrible truths". Nevertheless, the inn was hardly out of the way, and Shiro had to admit that he was very curious. Perhaps the sender was counting on that.

Shutting his parasol, Shiro stepped into the establishment and carefully shut the door behind him (making sure that it could not slam shut and draw attention to him). Noting that the counter-side seats already had their fair share of occupants, he made his way to the unoccupied table furthest from any other patrons and sat himself down. He then set himself to observing the place, hoping to spot anyone else who seemed to be doing the same (or anyone else with an envelope or a key in general).

Shiro has four out of his nine mental focus points invested in his divination implement (the wooden planchette). As such, its resonant power (Third Eye) is granting him +2 to his perception checks above and beyond his perception bonus noted above

Margaret, for all the world, gave off the impression of an old woman out for a walk. Auburn hair peppered with grays and a face covered in the lines of someone not unused to work in the sun didn't hurt the look. Neither did it being, more or less, true. The letter was in one of the interior pouches of her shockingly green vest. She was wearing a suit of travelling clothes, covered all over by a thread-bare but carefully maintained cloak, she had a seat somewhere chosen at random, taking her key out when she had been there for a moment or two, and inspecting it briefly for any markings, like a room number or the like

After a week of travel, Keleni arrives in Absalom. It doesn't take her long to find The Gilded Unicorn, and after dusting herself off, she strides right in, making no attempt at subtlety and allowing the door to slam behind her.

Keleni hops up onto one of the seats at the counter, and drops a few coins on it, as well as a key.

"I'll take an ale, please!" Keleni says, tapping her nose, winking, and blatantly ignoring the fact that someone was already talking to the dwarven woman.

After she has settled down, dropping her pack next to her seat, she looks around, taking in the scene around her. She looks decidedly excited and just waiting for someone to talk to her.

It occurs to me that if everyone is going to be getting first impressions of each other, I really ought to have mentioned what Shiro actually *looks like*. He's grey-skinned, dark grey-haired, and dressed in dark red scholars robes. He's also no more than five feet tall and looks like a seventeen-year-old (...with grey skin). His backpack is so full that it seems liable to burst open, like an overripe fruit.

Not a bad idea, actually. I'll post a description of Keleni, too.

Keleni is a halfling and stands a little smaller than three feet tall. She has dark skin and black, very curly hair tied back with a green striped hairwrap. Her left eye is covered with an eyepatch, though it is not large enough to hide the scars that cover half her face. A hardened leather vest covers a set of loose fitting linen clothes. Slung over Keleni's shoulder is a rifle, almost as long as she is tall, with its ammunition lining the belt at her waist. Another gun sticks out of her heavy looking pack, though this one looks much more weathered.

The old dwarf looks down at the key that the blonde woman had laid down in front of her. Her eyes flash down toward it for a fraction of a second before smiling warmly up at her and nodding. "And it certainly has been paid for, my dear. Your room will be available shortly, but please take a seat and make yourself at home until then. You look quite hungry from being on the road, so I'll have my husband bring you by something for lunch, it's on the house. Your employer is willing to cover the tab on your food and drink." She looks back down at the book, quickly moving around between pages to mark that Freyja had checked in, despite not asking her name or even looking at the small room number engraved on the key. Oddly, the dwarf scans around the room with her eyes and marks off a few other boxes as well, all from people who arrived in the moments after Freyja, and who had not yet spoken to her.

But before the Paladin can do much of anything, a halfling arrives and declares her need for a drink, which brings the The Gilded Unicorn into a shambling facsimile of livelihood. All of the scattered patrons seem more alert, several of them rising from their chairs. They begin to talk and move about, looking to one another and sharing nods. The dwarf smiles toward Keleni and says, "I'll be with you in a moment, dear," before pulling out from her chair behind of the counter and moving. toward one of the patrons. She tells him that they're closing for the afternoon and invites him to return once they reopen that evening for dinner, but that all non-residents must leave during the closing period. She locks the door behind him and begins to draw all the curtains along the front side of the inn, while a rather stocky and muscular human woman does the same to the windows on the left side, with none toward the back where the kitchen is, nor to the right where stairs lead up to the second floor and the rooms.

I'll add Mirabelle's too. Mira is a young woman with long, curly black hair, red-brown eyes, and fair skin. She's about average height (5'5), a little on the thin side, and has slightly more slanted features due to being Half Tian-Min. She keeps her hair in a neat bun, held in place with a black ribbon and a pair of golden, jeweled hairpins.

Her outfit consists of a white blouse, a long, dark wool skirt, boots with slightly elevated heels and white spats, and a long black coat with a hood and wide sleeves. She also wears a spring-loaded wrist sheath on her right wrist where her Masterwork dagger was tucked away. Her rapier is sheathed on her right hip, revealing that she's left-handed. Hidden in pockets sewn into her clothes are several daggers so that she always has one in reach, she even has one hidden underneath the spats of her right boot. The end of a small club sticks out of her pack, but not much else as she prefers to travel light.

Mirabelle watched the others come in. The Tiefling woman caught her eye first. Mira, despite her work, found non-humans to be fascinating beings to watch. Each race was unique and every individual more so. Still, she kept to her table near the window. Next was a boy who could easily be mistaken for a teenager if not for the grey...everything. Dhampir maybe? She'd only ever seen them in passing or in drawings, so she wasn't sure. Then came another human and a boisterous halfling. The woman's call for ale made her grin, though she quickly hid it behind her hand, masking it with a cough.

Her good mood faded when the curtains began to be drawn and the regulars made their way out. She toyed with the key, observing the bar more openly now. She stood and collected her pack, then moved to sit at the now-vacant counter next to the halfling. "Seems like the fun's about to begin, doesn't it?" She flashed the other woman a grin, then glanced back at the Tiefling and the ashen young(?) man. "I think I'll be needing a mug of ale soon too, if only to steady my nerves."

As she listened to the Dwarf, Freyja made note of the the way she spoke and every detail she could manage. She didn't analyze everything, but, she got what seemed to be generally the most important in such a situation: Tone, eye contact, and manner of speech. The lunch was, well, lunch. She was hungry, so what she could really say to the offer of lunch? "I see," she remarked, about to ask for some water. She didn't feel like liquor at the moment. That was saved for celebrations and friendly gatherings. "Would I be able to—" Or she could not get her water skin refilled.

After such an exchange between the woman behind the counter and the halfling, she spoke again. "Would it be out of reach for my water skin to be refilled?" However, she reached for the skin on her backpack and untied it from a strap on the side, then taking a sip and putting it right back.

However, being joined by the human made her toss a glance over, then wait again. With a pair of short turns of the head, Freyja had managed to get a good grasp of who else was there. A hooded woman, a young man, and a woman who simply appeared to be nothing more than an old woman. During these glances, though, small glints of light caught her eye, those of which seemed in line with her own key. That made sense being that it was residents only at the moment. "So," the Aasimar said with curiosity in her tone, a pause following as she turned on her stool, looking at the Halfling and Human next to her. "If it's not an intrusion or too personal, what're you two in town for?"

The Tiefling was quite curious once everyone began to shuffle out of the Inn, barring a few individuals with keys similar to hers, she noticed. Her clawed finger lightly dug into the wood of the table underneath her, as if lightly carving into it out of boredom. Her eyes, one violet and one golden, darted to the side to take a glance at the Aasimar. Her tail lightly stopped it's swishing, and she made sure to hide the appendage from view. Her eyes then trailed to that of the boisterous Halfling and Human, then to the much too gray boy... well, she thought it was a boy, at least. Using her tail, she wrapped it around the key that in her lap and used it to slip it subtly into her pocket.

They'll murder you for what you are... A voice echoed in her mind. And when they find out about me...

Mismeia ignored the voice. Why would she be called all the way over here if she were going to be murdered? Whoever sent the letter wasn't going to allow it, no matter how much of a fit that the Aasimar threw. Using a claw, which wasn't that much of claw, merely her nails in the shape of one, Mismeia threw her hood back, letting her hair fall naturally in it's place. Pitch black, with a single red streak. She didn't know why it was there. She was born with it. Standing from her seat, Mismeia stepped toward a stool at the bar, taking her seat next to the other three. "We're all here for the same reason, I bet." The Tiefling answered the Aasimar, making herself known if she wasn't already. A faint voice echoed along with hers, if one could manage to hear it.

Of course, one surprise came after the next, the first being the Halfling bustling in, and the second being the Tiefling sitting herself down next to her. Freyja didn't mind though, and she turned to her, listening to her speak. It made sense. They all seemed . . . different from your run of the mill visitors. The fact that there was an Aasimar and a Tiefling in the room together without literally murdering each other was, indeed, quite the odd thing in itself.

To be honest, Freyja never minded Tieflings or any people of such similar races. Character was the defining factor and that was that. Either way, after hearing her out and pondering for a moment, the Aasimar rubbed her upper lip into the crook between her thumb and index finger. She was clearly deep in thought. "For what purpose are we needed? A Tiefling, a halfling, an Aasimar, two humans, and who I can only presume is a person who appears human but is not. Either way . . . We must be needed for something of great importance if we've all been gathered here by a single person or group of persons," the blonde contemplated aloud. It was true, they were there for a reason. Either way, it was definitely a necessity that they also get the truth of why they were there. "We should get to know each other, perhaps. Who here was summoned by a letter of which came with a key, asking for assistance?" A bold question asked by an equally bold woman.

Mira shrugged and spun the key around her fingers. "Well, they mentioned they were looking for people 'of a particular skill set', right?" she intoned in a more serious, refined tone as she used her fingers to imitate quotation marks. "But you make a good point, Lady Aasimar that we should know one another. I suppose I'll go first." Mira stood from the bar and made a flourishing bow.

"I am known as Mirabelle Enomoto, though Mira is fine." She stood back up, then grinned. "Might I be so bold as to ask you lovely ladies your names as well?" She doubted her name would be of any familiarity here. The last famous Enomoto huntress had been her great-grandmother Midoriko and she'd been dead for over half a century.

I've got a roaring headache and as such I am having trouble making a coherent post. Just assume Shiro is still off in his corner sizing up the situation / the other remaining visitors.

Keleni downed her ale very quickly, and was about to demand a second one when she realised she was being addressed. "Keleni Swifteye, Supernatural Bounty Hunter, at ya service." Keleni makes an attempt at a flourished bow without rising from her seat.
" It's lookin' like we all got the same letter then? Boy, that's exciting. I've never worked with a team before. You ladies in the same field, then? Can't imagine what pretty things like you'd be doin' in this business. " Speaking excitedly at a hundred miles an hour, Keleni then offers her hand to the nearest person, who just so happened to be Mirabelle.
As she shakes Mirabelle's hand, she says, "Ooh, but we're supposed to be all hush hush, right? I didn't say anything. " Keleni then winks at Mirabelle... Or at least you assume she's winking and not blinking... It's a bit hard to tell when she's only got one eye.

The Paladin looked to her side and smiled at the other two women slightly. "Indeed they were," she remarked, then simply arching her brow as she was so quickly claimed as an Aasimar. Was it really so plainly obvious? Her hair was as platinum blonde as platinum blonde could be (even metallic to a degree), and she was unfairly pale, but even so, the fact that she was marked as one so easily surprised her. She must've been dealing with very perceptive people. Or at least, one very perceptive person.

"I'm Freyja Eklund of Irrisen," she replied, extending a hand in an offer of greeting and friendliness, then looking at the halfling. "Pretty? I don't know if dragging my hands in the blood of an enemy and dragging them down my cheeks is 'pretty' by any conventional standards." The angelic woman laughed and looked back to her left. "And yet, we haven't learned this lovely vision's name. We'll have to rectify and remedy such an unfair problem that plagues us, now won't we?" Freyja asked with quite the smile on her face.

Margaret is an older woman, in her mid to late 50s, who carries herself very much as an old woman might, not stooping too much, though certainly not in her prime, and leaning on her walking stick. Aside from a normal pair of comfortable slacks and boots for travelling, she also wears a heavy wool cloak with hood to keep the cold out, and a hideous green vest, which looks largely woolen, pouches on it looking full to bursting

She pushed her hood back, showing off a face creased with age and just a little too much sun, and perhaps a little bit of excess as far as smiles were concerned. She was a little surprised that the people who had apparently been recruited, as she had been, weren't by half as suspicious as she was. After all, they'd been brought here by LETTER, of all things. She pocketed her key and smiled around the room none the less, looking for all the world as friendly as she appeared. They were, after all, presumably friends. At least those hired with her.

"Well, my name is Margaret but I'm quite used to being called Nona, and I'd imagine we're here for quite different reasons, dear, though perhaps the same CAUSE."

Her smile was kind and genuine, even for the tiefling.

So there were five others. Shiro smiled to himself. Six was one of his favorite numbers; the smallest perfect number, and possessing of several other pleasing and significant properties. A good number for what could prove to be a most educational venture.
Well, if everyone else is doing introductions, I suppose I would be remiss not to participate...

Shiro gradually rose to his feet and walked over to a more central position in the tavern (or at least one less distant from everyone else). His gait was elegant, but a bit forced, as though he had to put conscious effort into coordinating his legs. He cleared his throat; whether it was because he hadn't spoken in a few hours, or because it was a typical (if rude) action of those waiting to be heard, wasn't quite clear.

"I had been hoping to sit and observe for a bit longer, but if everyone is introducing themselves to one another, I suspect it would be rude of me not to do likewise."

"My name is Shiro Berthomie: The given name is Tian-Min; the surname is Chelish. I am first and foremost a scholar... of languages, of mathematics, and of the occult... and a smattering of other subjects. I am also, however, something of a consultant, for people in Absalom who have sought aid in identifying and, in some cases, in resolving, supernatural influences that have struck their lives or livelihoods. I suspect it is this experience, as well as my considerable knowledge of subjects that are likely of interest to our mysterious employer, that drew his attention to me. Mirabelle, Keleni, Freyja, Margaret, and... er, forgive me for not knowing your name, Madame Tiefling" he said, gesturing at Mismeia "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintances"

god it's taking a herculean amount of willpower not to habitually open everyone's GM-only / specific-player-only spoiler tags

Sorry Mismeia, just make your introduction in a spoiler or something, we're gonna keep the ball rolling.

Once the curtains are all drawn and a second check is made to ensure the door is indeed locked, the dwarf shouts toward the back, "We're all clear!" and pulls from beneath her shirt a holy symbol of Pharasma, which she lets fall down like a necklace as she moves back toward the bar, grabbing the slightly taller chair that lets her sit eye-level with humans. "And nobody drew a weapon," she says, smiling at you as she speaks in a calmer, more casual volume. "It's rare for one person not to feel like they're being set up, but for six of you to remain calm? I haven't seen that in all my many years."

A few people walks down the stairs, one a very well dressed man in likely his sixties, a little too well fed, but with the gaunt face of someone who could use much, much more sleep than they're getting. The crown of white hair around his head but absent atop it has grown a little unkempt and long, messy in a way that stands in contrast to the immaculately clean clothes of someone of high social standing. Behind him, a steely-faced middle aged woman wearing the uniform of a city guard; those who live in Absalom recognize the seal as being that of the Petal District. They walk steadily down the stairs together while the assorted clientelle who have remained after 'closing' begin to move around the layout of the tavern room, lining up tables and setting six chairs up.

"Please, go sit down," the dwarf says smiling and urging you all toward the table being set up. "Alandre hates to do business at a bar. Lunch and tea will be arriving for you shortly, and I promise that this will all soon make a lot of sense." With that, she carries her chair off, setting it up in an open space at the middle of one side of the table, the two new arrivals from downstairs taking their places to her right.

Mismeia fluttered her eyes softly, darting around each person as they made their introductions. Her tongue idly flickered in and out of her mouth, forked. Mira, Keleni, Freyja, Margaret, and Shiro. They'd all be her companions for what the letter was to entail, she suspected. She kept her hands and arms crossing underneath her breasts, while her tail managed to slip the key out of her pocket and toy around with it a bit.

Run. Don't tell them your name. Run away from here. She thought. You still have a chance if you smash through one of those windows.

Mismeia ignored her thoughts, seemingly, as she did not move and run out the door, or through a window. Instead, she got onto her feet, craning her head from side to side. "Call me Mismeia." She lightly curtsied, though it was merely to mock those who did curtsy. Her Gold and Violet eyes rolled over toward Shiro for a moment, scanning him for quite the while. Honestly, she couldn't figure out he was. Instead of inquiring, however, she merely gave everyone a smile, as well as another flicker of her silver tongue, then took a seat once more.

Damn, I'm sorry for the lateness with the introduction. Got really tired last night and only just woke up.

"Woo hoo! Now this is a party!" Keleni hops off her seat at the bar, and, dragging her pack along with her, goes to sit down at one of the recently placed chairs. The chair is a little bit too large for someone of Keleni's stature, and she rocks her legs as they dangle above the ground, much like an excited child.

"I dunno about you guys, but man, I haven't had a well paying job for ages. ...Wait, this is a well paying job, right? Or at least a job? Please tell me this is a job. I've got a whole family to feed, here." While Keleni says this as though it's a large burden, it appears most likely that said family is made up only of herself.

Margaret stands up to move, giving that same warm, grandmotherly smile to everyone, even the mysterious strangers employing them. "Honestly, I cannot speak for any of the others but I'm a country doctor, and an old woman besides, I couldn't draw a weapon to any effect even if I wanted to. I take it by the nature of our business that any names we receive from you are as like as not to be fake?"

She certainly had given her real one, if course, and she had no real interest as to whether the others were concealing identities. That would, after all, defeat the purpose

Mirabelle shook Keleni's offered hand with a grin hidden behind her sleeve. She gave Freyja a look when she mentioned dragging blood-soaked hands down her face and leaned back a little bit, giving herself a bit more distance from the Aasimar. Then the other two approached. Margaret instantly had her respect for being an older lady, yet so clearly involved in dangerous work. Then came the man who she was sure was not human.

Mira's eyes shone when Shiro mentioned that he was Tian-Min as well. "It's nice to meet a fellow Tian-Min, though I will confess that I only know of it through my mother." She flashed him a bright smile. "If we get some time later, I'd love to hear anything about your own history with it. But business first, I suppose." She grinned, then turned and followed Keleni.

She took a seat next to her, then she folded her hands in her lap. "Oh and to answer your earlier question, Keleni, I am a Hunter as well, ever since I was old enough to hold a blade." The other woman's excitement was a bit contagious and Mirabelle brought a hand to her mouth to keep from smiling too widely.

Within a few moments, she, too, was bouncing slightly in her seat. She was still a great deal nervous, but it was best not to focus on that for now. She leaned toward Keleni slightly and lowered her voice, whispering under her breath. She again hid her mouth behind her sleeve. "Wanna make a bet on how long until this all goes pear shaped?"

Freyja had only been kidding about dragging blood down her cheeks. The point was, she was a warrior first and a woman second. And if anyone didn't quite get the humor, then, oh well. No point in getting stuck on something. All she could do was move on to something more.

Clearly, such a graceful, friendly Aasimar would never do something so violent or depraved, or even beastly. She was no murderer, that much was true. The Paladin was looking around and making sure nothing suspicious was coming around to swipe them up or leave them as bloodied bodies.

When the dwarf returned, she looked over to her and blinked, paying her attention to the older woman with a look of curiosity. Clearly, she was bright-eyed when it was announced they'd be getting down to business. Though, the symbol of Pharasma was, well . . . That was certainly something to take note of, especially since the letter had spoken of a certain evil. "So . . ." Freyja said aloud before walking over to the table, pack in hand, and sitting with a smile. "I suppose we'll all be trying to maintain unity, then, Mirabelle. There is no point in killing each other when we've all been summoned for a purpose higher than our individual lives."

Keleni turns to Mirabelle, ignoring the fact that she was whispering, and says loudly, "Boy, I really hope this doesn't go pear shaped. I dunno about you, but I like livin, and I'm sure everyone else in the room likes livin too. ...But...." Keleni leans closer to Mirabelle and whispers with not a single ounce of subtlety, "I'm willin' to bet on who'll pull out their weapon first! 1 gold says it'll be ol' Frey over there. Who d'you wanna bet on? "

Keleni grins and looks towards Freyja, making sure her playful jab isn't received too badly by her.

Mira stared at Freyja. "I meant more that...this situation might go awry....I do not believe that any of us have any reason to turn on eachother..." She again edged slightly away from the other woman, then had to bite back a laugh, though her shoulders gave a slight shake. The Halfling was not in any way quiet and Mira was beginning to admire that.

She kept her hand to her mouth, though her grin was becoming too wide to conceal. "Well, as I am rather sure betting on oneself is against the rules..." She looked around at the others gathered there. "I would have to say Shiro. He's far too quiet. Too calm." She replied in a faux-suspicious tone. "Though I've got half a mind to bet on you as well."

With a grin, the Paladin leaned in just to poke fun at the other girl. "Oh, believe it. I might just have to flay you!" she joked. "But in all seriousness, I less meant legitimately murdering each other, and more tearing each others' hair out in a squabble. I'm betting ten gold on myself. Because I'll probably be the first one to charge at an enemy." Of course she would. That was her way of fighting. She charged in and slammed a shield to a face and started cutting enemies down. That was just her way, though, the other people may have been just as ferocious as her.

Laughing, she gave a hard slap to Mirabelle's shoulder and looked over at the Tiefling. "No one bets on the Tiefling? How tolerant of us all. But, she's like Shiro. It's the neutral, quiet ones who are the ones you should fear the most. You never know what they can do to kill you without having to do much. It's for that purpose that I have learned to put my confidence into them," Freyja replied, giving a teasing grin to the paler woman and simply giving her a look that made it clear she was in no way intending offense, even offer a hand in greeting. "But, I suppose we should quiet ourselves down and all wait for our lunch and what's going to happen next."

Margaret sat herself down carefully, folding her hands on her lap and keeping her cane close at hand, leaning against her thigh as she sat at the table. "Now now, it has been my experience that even the most vile of devilkin have a tendency to act in the name of self-interest, and not malice for it's own sake. Certainly revenge, perhaps, though that, too, is a form of self-interest. Not, to be sure, entirely dissimilar to those of a more divine, or even earthly lilt. I can imagine young blood like you all are worldly enough to be beyond such silly prejudices anyway. Our employer is very well informed, and quite beyond that, extraordinarily careful, it would seem, so I'd wager we're as likely to have been selected with our mentalities in mind, as well as our skill-set."

Always the kind, bright eyed smile, her assertion of the situation leaving her quite confident in her own safety, at least at that moment in any case, and after all, helping like this was exactly what she wanted to do with her skills.

Brace for exposition.

Once everyone has taken their seat at the table, all six of you facing the line of strangers, the woman in a city watch uniform speaks first. "I'm sorry if you're put on edge by any of this. I seem to be the only one here who could do without all the cloak and dagger theatrics." She looked specifically to her right, to the balding man and beyond him to the elven woman, then heaving a sigh as she turned to the dwarf by her side. The rat-faced human took a seat at the end of the table, eyes darting nervously about, while the other end was taken up by an oddly dressed man in a leather coat and a hat tilted forward to obscure most of his face, rounding out the group that was perhaps just as odd as the one assembled on the opposite side of the table. "You were told this was one of the nicest inns in the city, weren't you?" Her voice was edged with the utter lack of nonsense or fancy, standing out rather sorely amid the other colourful characters on other sides of her with a stony expression tinged with overcompensatory seriousness.

The balding man beside her waved his hand as if dismissing the issue entirely. "There's more important things to talk about," he muttered, straightening his collar out as his eyes scan over you one by one. You can feel everyone else's eyes doing much the same, sizing you up, almost suspiciously keying into certain details; manner of dress, major facial features. Anything to ensure that you're you. "For starters, why you're here. Thank you for coming; I worried some people would have been suspcious about the oddly accurate arrival of mechanical birds carrying vague messages, but here you are. You deserve answers, and fortunately, I have them for you.

"My name is Alandre Burton, and I own the Gilded Unicorn, along with many other businesses in Absalom. The letters were mine, and I am the one who wishes to 'hire' you, in a sense. As... 'theatrical' as my letter may have been, I believe it resonated with each of you in some way. You have all come across people who simply do not believe or could never know. Who take refuge in ignorance or could never tell that your abilities held a different purpose altogether than what it would appear on the surface. People like to believe themselves safe, thinking that imagining that all of the dark horrors of the night would never dare leave Ustalav will keep them safe at night, but we all know that isn't true. And perhaps nowhere is that less true than in Absalom, in recent years. Kotri?

The dwarf--Kotri, apparently--nods, casting a smile in turn along the line of you as her fingers toy with the pendant she wears, the holy symbol of the goddess of life and death, a rough spiral slowly growing wider as it spins outward from its center. "We've been tracking an increase in the undead in the city over the past ten years. Things have started happening, incidents that appear isolated, and I ended up being stationed permanently in--oh dear, I didn't forget to mention it again, did I?" She looked to the leather-clad man to her side, who nods. She sighs something about being so forgetful these days, shoving her necklace forward proudly. "My husband and I were inquisitors for the Church of Pharasma, recently retired, in a sense. Now we run Mister Burton's fine establishment." At that point, a grizzled old human limps out of the kitchen, carrying a large tray full of ale flagons for those who had asked and tea for those who hadn't, along with plates of steaming hot spiced potatoes. His gait is a strange one, as though his right leg were missing from the mid-thigh downward and beneath his pants is a wooden replacement. He lays the food and drink down on the table and doles them out to you. "And there he is now. Won't you say hello to our new recruits, Gilliam?" He only gives a grunt as he lumbers back toward the kitchen from whence he came. "He's just a big old softie once you get to know him."

As the dwarf turns back to look at her husband go, Alandre shakes his head to you, as if to say he is anything but. "And that is as much as we can say without needing assurance from you that we have your trust and cooperation. We wish to extend our clandestine operation within the city of hunters and experts who can deal with the growing undead threat, but operating in secrecy comes with certain limitations and the need to keep our intelligence close. Our mission is to do good and protect the city, but anything beyond this point needs a promise from you that you will help us. You will be paid for this, of course. It's work, and the chance to help people, if little else."

Freyja sat there and listened intently, elbows propped up and fingers intertwined as she leaned forward, wanting to hear every last word those in front of her had to say. After learning their names, and receiving the tea, she took a small sip and set it down, resuming her serious, focused posture and attitude. Her body, despite being covered with the heavy, slightly rattling plate armor that made noise whenever she moved, was clearly tense and it was very obvious she was zoning out other than what she was hearing.

"I see, and you all have quiet a good point," the porcelain-skinned woman replied. "That is true, that people do not want to see tragedy. They do not even let themselves see it. They turn from it, run from it if they can." She understood reasonably well, that there was a certain wall, a certain rank of people who stood on that wall, and took up post in defending the helpless. Because most people were just helpless and needed to be protected. However, her focus shifted from thinking and back to those in front of her. The Tiefling, the humans . . .

"I am willing to do whatever it takes to get the job done, and while I speak only for myself in that," she stated firmly, "I can say that I firmly believe in the potential of the group you have assembled and will join in it no matter what the risks may be. I only ask that, in return, you give us a place to head and enemies to stop should the others so join me in accepting."

Keleni slams her fist on the table with enthusiasm. "Count me right in! What kind of Trill would I be if I turned away an opportunity to kill all these undead you're talkin' 'bout? Especially since I'm gonna get paid for it! " Keleni appears to be extremely pleased by everything being said by her potentially future employers.

She then pauses, as though remembering something, and checks her belt. "Uhh... I might need to make some more ammunition, though. I'll guarantee ya twenty undead stayin' dead until then."

Lightly rubbed the side of the cup she was brought, smiling still but with a pensive expression as she considered things. The eagerness of her coworkers was heartening, but also potentially worrying in its own right, after all. She looked to the halfling, tilting her head slightly to the side as she lifted her cup. "It's a little presumptuous to imagine that it is only the undead we'll be facing. After all, they don't come into existing on their own, so more than likely there is some manner of cult or cabal behind the existence of any group in any place in large number. This is to say nothing for the non-undead threats that exist beyond our lovely Absalom. It is a strange thought, but keep your mind open as to who and what an enemy is. And as to who and what a friend might be. The undead are not, necessarily, unpeople."

Oops, only just noticed I was forgetting to bolt speech. My bad!

Shiro still seemed to be digesting everything just explained. Particularly, he seemed to be sizing up Kotri; it didn't take a very attentive or socially-aware observer to notice his eyes looking her up and down.

I suspect that our prospective employers, if not necessarily my potential companions, are aware, at least in a broad sense, of what I am. However, if they are not, it would be foolish, perhaps suicidally so, to tip my hand to someone obliged, by faith, to destroy all undead they encounter

But Shiro's posture and expression noticeably changed as Margaret spoke.

"Margaret", Shiro intoned, "has raised a number of very salient points. While certain sorts of undead do rise spontaneously, the vast majority are created beings... I suppose that to elaborate further would be to simply repeat what she has already made clear. Furthermore, I am a scholar, not a crusader, and I simply cannot be comfortable with any venture wherein we allow ourselves to be guided by zeal our and not by consideration and pragmatism. As such, I hope that none of us, former inquisitors included, expect us to immediately destroy every ghost, vampire, and dhampir we become aware of without any further thought."

...Amusingly, spellcheck figures that "dhampir" is most likely a misspelling of "Hampshire"

Mira listened quietly, then glanced at Margaret and Shiro. She was glad someone had spoken up first. "I'm with them. Our targets should only be the people causing trouble or making danger. Someone who is innocent is still an innocent, regardless of their race or origins."

"My question is this. Why us specifically? Why now? This started around ten years ago, correct?" She glanced at her new employers. "I fully intend to join your ranks as well but I do wonder why was no one called earlier? Why was no one summoned seven years ago? Six? Ten years is a long time to wait before calling in help."

She also thought of her mother, alone in Magnimar. "And while I understand the need for secrecy...What, if anything, should those of us with a family tell them? I mean...I'm sure everyone here has at least one person back home who's worried about them, right? I don't like the idea of vanishing, never to return or be heard from again."

Feryja was a woman of faith, but Shiro's words made her glance up and come to a new conclusion after a bit of thought. "I have every reason to agree as well. Our purpose will be to bring peace, and as a devout follower of Iomedae, if I betray my heart, which tells me that I will only destroy that which is malevolent, then I have already declared myself dead," she remarked. So long as they were not an enemy, they were, indeed, not to be killed.

It was quite the thing to consider, not killing out of zeal and contempt. And while she did, of course, view undead things as mostly evil, she also held onto the ideal that good was present in all things.
"Mirabelle, I am sure they have a valid reason for this, and it is my belief that it would have to do with finding the proper people for the mission. A wise man knows when to settle and when to press on, and I am sure the three people who have come to us are the same. And while, I cannot say I do have a family back home, I do share her concern on behalf of my fellow compatriots: Will anyone we are bonded to be able to be told that we're going on a quest so they at least know we are not vanishing into thing air and mystery?"

Freyja grimaced, expressions and features just slightly pallid at the prospect of people leaving home to never be found or heard of ever.

Realising she had probably insulted some of the people in the room with her overarching term, Keleni speaks up again. "Oh right! Sorry, I'm used to dealin' with mostly the 'euuuurghhh I just crawed out of a grave and now I want to eat everyone's innards for dinner' kind of undead," Keleni waves her arms about in a poor imitation of one, "and less with the 'Hello, I am a regular person that is not so inclined as to eat and or kill innocent people!' Ya don't get paid to deal with the latter, usually, except for that one time... Man, that guy was a prick. Anyway, point is, if it's bein' bad and I can shoot it, I'm happy to deal with it for ya. "

Keleni pauses then, listening to Mirabelle and Freyja's concerns about family. "Well, I can guarantee ya don't need to go about contactin' anyone for me, so I'm good. got the whole family right here. " She pats the weathered gun that is sticking out of her pack.

Sorry Mismeia, gotta move on.

The table sits quietly and listens to your concerns in varying degrees of intentfulness; Kotri nods quite a fair bit as she hears you ought, while the guard remains steely and quiet. Once you've said your peace, Aladandre begins, looking toward Shiro. "Rest assured, Mister Berthomie, that we would not have called you here were all dhampir, regardless of whether they wish to harm innocents, within our sights. Our focus is on the protection of this city, not on a zealous campaign of cleansing. The Church of Pharasma is only one of the major players in this group, and even they have lent us an agent who is a Dhampir. If we were to begin culling people sight unseen, perhaps Sarenrae's agents would take issue with such a thing." He turned his head toward the elf, who nodded at him. "Likewise, Miss Fortuna, if someone has decided to raise the read for purposes beyond the harm of others, and can prevent them from causing mayhem in their wake, then we will have no reason to turn our attention to them. The Pharasmans will not approve, but this is not the campaign of a single ideology."

Kotri addresses Mirabelle. "Well my dear, simply put, we didn't know the extent of things ten years ago. Gilliam and I were tasked with investigating the rumour of vampires preying on folks in the Westerhold district, and became permanently assigned to keep watch on the city. Occasionally, we would work with the churches of Sarenrae and Iomedae to deal with potent threats that the two of us couldn't handle alone. It was only eight months ago that we began working with Alandre and extending our ranks past agents of faith already fighting monsters. In the past four, we have been tapping into our connections and seeking those who could help our cause, which is how we came upon you." As she speaks, her husband comes out with another tray of tea and potatoes, setting them down onto the other side of the table before grunting and limping back to the kitche once more.

Alandre prods at his potatoes with his fork longingly as he tends to Mirabelle's other concern. "If your family already knows what you do, then there is no fear in telling them that you have merely found long-term work in Absalom. It's hardly a lie, but it is vital that the exact purpose of what we do remain a mystery for both our protection and theirs. However, since you all seem to be in agreement, we can move on.

"Kotri is right; I am the reason that this has come together into more than a loose afilliation between faiths in the city. Last year, tragedy struck my family in ways I still don't entirely understand, and I turned to Pharasma's church for help.The information I had to give was grace and incredibly worrisome, but they didn't have the means to act on it, so I pledged a sizable portion of my fortune to making serious the effort to act on that knowledge, which is what we have done for the past six months. Church coffers can't afford to fund a campaign of investigation unless it's a direct threat to their church, but they have no problem with accepting my funding to do so. And we gained a proper name; the Ordo Lumina. Over the months, we gained more agents; people who like me stumbled to divine experts for guidance and answers in our terror, and who were willing to offer their aid and skills to those in need of help. You six mark the first that we have sought out intentionally.

"In the passing months, we've come to believe that there is more at work than the occasional disgruntled reject of the Arcanarium dabbling in necromancy, that there is something long-lived and vile pulling the strings of this city. The churches have suspected as much for a few years now, but our intelligence has made it almost certain. We don't yet know who or to what end, but hopefully with you to swell out our ranks, we could find out. So in short, we've assembled a secret society to combat other, more malevolent secret societies."

The exposition train marches on.

Mira looked at the two women she was sitting between. If one watched, they could see the heartbreak on her features. They don't...have any family...? The expression only became more tear-filled when Alandre mentioned that tragedy had hit his own family.

She thought of her Mother, all alone in a country that she didn't much care for. Her father, missing. Mirabelle bit her bottom lip and took a shaky breath, then bit into her food to try and focus herself. No. No bursting into hysterics. You are a professional and an adult. Get a grip.

"I see. Thank you. I will have to send my letter out as soon as possible but...You have my alliance. I am willing to do whatever it takes to help." There was still a slight quiver in her voice but she tried to swallow it down with her ale.

She wondered about the others in her group. Whether or not they had families and friends back home, they would be all they had to rely on for the foreseeable future. Her mind made itself up then and there. Her search for her Father would have to wait a bit longer. So far, there had been no leads but...now she had people who needed her protection. Her blade would be used to keep them safe, at least until she found a new trail to follow.

Freyja remained rather quiet at all of this, considering it all. To her, it had made a great deal of sense, and because they were not a campaigning group of zealots but a group of peacemakers and peacekeepers, she was in full agreement with their cause. Her eyes remained affixed on whomever was speaking, and she tried to note the littlest of details for the sole purpose of having a higher understanding of the situation and those in it. "Would this not be like a crime organization in how we deal with them? We work through the rank and file, get our clutches on a more influential member, and then work ourselves up a food chain of enemies until we have our sights on the true root of this all?" she asked rather curiously. She had indeed dealt with a chain of necromancers before, working up until she had slain the strongest one and returned to her business of wandering and doing whatever came her way.

"As well, do we have a valid grasp on the range of what we'll be dealing with? Are we dealing solely with the undead, or are we reaching out more towards spirits and werewolves and vampires should they be spotted? Is our priority the main objective of our hiring or are we also welcome to focus on smaller operations to help truly clean the city up?" she continued, trying to gain a truly firm grasp on it all. And, even if the answers were as she had slightly suspected, then at least her comrades would have gained answers they may or may not have had previously.

I'm super sorry everyone for not posting this weekend. I was either super busy or super tired so I couldn't do anything when it came to writing things. I'll try and post tomorrow, though.

"At the moment, we don't know who or what our enemy truly is; we believe most of what we have dealt with have not been knowing members of this society, but instead people spurred on by their influence and resources. What we suspect is that certain people have infiltrated higher levels of the major players in Absalom; the Arcanarium, the Pathfinder Society, the watch of at least three districts, and even all levels of the Grand Council. How many there are or who, specifically, are still details beyond us, but we've assembled some theories based solely on what drove some of us toward the Ordo Lumina. So for now, we seek to follow whatever leads we believe worth exploring and help people along the way until we can piece together enough proper intelligence to act on with certainty that it is complete. Beyond that, we certainly hope to protect the city from the threats it's not capable of handling, related to this shadowy group or not. Especially if there is a time where leads have run dry or we need to wait something out, dealing with other issues in the meantime is certainly not a waste of my resources. If it is for the good of Absalom, you may do it."

"I see. Then we have no choice but to walk forward into what is pure darkness until our feet kick against clues, yes?" the Paladin asked, taking some of her potatoes and chewing them down. She rather enjoyed the taste of starchy food, and continued to eat until she had finished, not speaking until she was done out of habitual politeness. "As well, I thank you for allowing us the chance to make interventions off of the main road of our journey. I'm sure Absalom, and by proxy, the rest of Golarion, will be made safer from such. However, now comes one of the final questions . . . Are there any leads for us to begin with, or do we begin with searching for them, gathering information and being the eyes and ears rather than the sword and shield for the time being?"

Shiro seemed considerably more relaxed after hearing Alandre address his concerns. He was also rather embarrassed; somehow, he had failed to consider that anyone willing to put so much work into finding qualified individuals would also most certainly know enough about those individuals to not invite a witch if they were conducting a witch hunt, so to speak. He hoped that his embarrassment wasn't visible through his countenance.

By the time Alandre was finished explaining the rest, his mind was made up. "It seems that this is a most crucial venture, if everything you say is true. I agree to act in your employ, Mister Burton; I support your cause, and frankly, my studies stand to benefit from both the nature of this work and from the improvement to my financial freedom. Furthermore, as I already reside in Absalom, there is no one I need notify save the woman from whom I was renting my current lodgings. I suspect she'll be happy to be rid of me; my belongings are not particularly organized by her standards.

Mira finished her food and was more than happy to have something else to focus on. "For so many people of ill intent to have so much influence...that really is frightening." She, too, wondered how they would go about finding work.

"Oh! Another question. Do you have a designated 'leader' of our group in mind? Should we elect one amongst ourselves? After all, we have an even number, so it might be important to have one be a tiebreaker of sorts." She had no interest in taking such a position herself, but so far, she could at least suggest one person she thought would be best suited for it based on their interactions in this meeting.

Though she was not sure how well her choice of nominee would be taken by the rest of the group.

"Yes, there is something to work on at the moment. Lieutenant Riodos here will explain the details, but once we have finished with lunch, you can go with her to investigate something. We hadn't planned for there to be work today, but something came up. As for pay; you will each be paid weekly for your work, and of course have your rooms here at the Gilded Unicorn, as well as all of your food, taken care of. Kotri and her husband run the inn in their retirement, but it's still my money behind it; I suppose it's a front for the Ordo, in many ways, but gives us a central meeting place that will be more difficult to tie back to me than my own home would be. I will not frequently come to meet you here due to my seat on the Low Council and the illegality of funding what could easily be termed treason depending on how far this goes, but Kotri and other members will be able to relay the information to you.

"For matters of leadership, we did not intend for that to be an issue, but if you wish to decide among yourselves who will make the decisions, then you may certainly do that."

Mismeia had been silent for the entire conversation, simply lost in her thoughts as well as mentally inspecting her companions. The mention of them fighting the Undead did worry her a tad bit, but she wouldn't be called in for this sort of job if her employers wanted her dead... right? The doubt in her mind spiraled. Thoughts of being kicked out, or even killed, raced her. No doubt it was caused by him, however. He always liked doing this to her, even if it would hurt her more than it would help. That was simply his nature. And she simply had to deal with it. The Tiefling eyed the other's for a little while, her attention toward the employers slowly waning.

They'll come for you when you sleep. You can't let them take that chance.

Of course, the paranoia that was instilled into her barely affected her. It was annoying, though. But still. She managed to listen in mid-conversation, piecing together what she had missed while she wasn't paying attention. She blinked a little bit, simply staying silent as she let the other's talk, idly flicking her forked tongue out once in a while.

"We've got something to do already? Man, this just gets better and better by the second! " Excited by the idea of heading out right now, Keleni starts scoffing down potatoes.
In between mouthfuls, she remarks, "Man, I guess we'll be stayin' here for a while then. That's gonna be soooo weird. "
Finishing up the last of her potatoes, she looks around at her future team mates. Yeah, they all seem pretty cool. Maybe need to relax a bit but.... ehh, everyone's a work in progress.
Her eyes then fall on Mismeia, and Keleni realises something. "Hey Mis, you've been pretty quiet, ya haven't even agreed to all this stuff! You in?"

Margaret nodded her head, having been mostly quiet listening to all of this, before finally coming to the end of what she took to be the general explanation of their goals. She glanced around the table, looking between the members of the party before ending up staring at the rich older man running things, financially anyway. I take it, then, that given how much you know about all of us, we can safely say that any darkness in our own pasts have been taken into account, and you've decided to let the future be what you judge us on?"

She leaned back a little on the table, taking her tea with her and taking a sip of it, considering still. "Also, I take it based on us being paid that we will not have access to funding throughout? For supplies and the like?"