|
“I think picking the lock to see what's inside is a great idea, Quiven.” Luisila claps the Burglar on the back. “Maybe we should barricade the top of the well with empty racks or wine crates when you’re done.”
The cleric unties the silken rope, feeding it hand-over-hand like a reverse rope-trick into her Pathfinder’s pouch.
Expecting that there’s no time to go all-out CSI on each room before the guests arrive, Luisila nevertheless uses her keen half-elven senses to explore each room for traps, threats, sabotage, hidey holes, secret doors and other items of interest.
As the string quartet tunes, Luisila approaches the cellist. “Do you take requests?”
She glances at Conan. “Do you know, ‘You’re so Vain?’”
“Oh and did someone tell you? Lady Dyrianna Avenstar’s entrance is always heralded with Cranky Franky’s ‘The Lady is a Tramp.’”
Careful not to let any of the massive hounds jump up on her, Luisila feeds each one a ‘human food’ treat she begged earlier from the waitstaff. “There you go, boy!”
The priestess takes note of any unusual canine behaviour afterwards.
A wooden gazebo sits near the back of the open area.
Assuming none of the VIPs have arrived yet, Luisila screams “Heads up! GAZEBO!”
In two shakes of a wasp’s tail, she draws her longbow from its efficient quiver and nocks a cold iron arrow.
If anyone stares/rebukes her, she puts her weapons away sheepishly and hangs her head. “Sorry. Had a bad experience with a gazebo while escorting a somnambulist underground in Varisia.”
Luisila clutches Conan’s shoulder for support as her legs turn to jelly.
Oh
My
GODDESS
“Conan! I can’t believe it! It’s, it’s … Can you believe it? I think I’m going to faint!”
“NODROG!” She cries breathlessly. “I’m your biggest fan. Swear at me, Nodrog! I NEEEEEEED you to swear at me.”
|
Great Hall -- Quiven
Kitchen -- Quiven, Luisila
Garden -- Quiven, Luisila
Wine Cellar -- Quiven
Salon -- Luisila
Stable -- Luisila
Dining Hall -- Wei
He'll take careful notes of their positioning, and then attempt to math out where they would land on the table if damaged, what chairs would be in peril, and what positioning the Pathfinders would have to be in to prevent such a tragedy from happening.
In addition, he will double-check the chains that keep them aloft, to ensure that they aren't going to mysteriously come crashing down.
After that is done, he'll pace out the dining hall, attempting to get a feeling for what sort of terrain and obstacles would be in the way should fighting break out in that room.
|
Great Hall
There is not currently a fire going. The fireplace appears to have a grating inside to prevent entry.
When you first get to the kitchen, you do not think you will have an opportunity to search, as the head chef is frantically pacing about and checking everything. However, the scene caused by Luisila draws the head chef's attention long enough for you to get a quick once-over, and you don't notice anything out of the ordinary, though it's difficult to tell with the madness of a kitchen preparing for dinner service.
Garden
The garden has a strongly "designed" feel to it, not a single leaf trimmed out of place. There are indeed places to hide in the trees. You notice nothing else of note.
Cellar
The well has an average lock, one that would be utterly trivial for Quiven to pick . If you open it, you see it goes down about 40 feet before it hits water.
There are hundreds of fine wine vintages down there, as might be expected. Sweating kitchen staff occasionally rush through, grabbing bottles and all-but running back.
---------------
Salon
The cellist, a rather humorless looking Garundi woman with a trace of orcish heritage in her teeth, sighs as she tunes her cello.
"Yes, we take reasonable requests."
She cocks her mouth to one side as she hears the request. "Very funny." She returns to her tuning, making a show of turning away from Luisila.
Kennel
The dogs perk up their ears at the presentation of food, but make no attempt to jump her, showing fine training and breeding. They take to consuming the treats with the usual gusto.
The Kitchen
The head chef, clearly already fuming over the performance of his underlings, turns towards Luisila, his teeth clenched vice-tight and his eyes bulging.
"NODROG YASMAR!? You dare compare the Great Domeros Prinitar to pop-cuisine trash like Nodrog Yasmar! My dinners are art, exquisite marriages of form and function into the sublime that will only exist once and then be gone forever. I'm not a hack that only cares about selling cookbooks to Andoren housewives."
He gets right up in Luisila's face, his normally tan face blazing red after his tirade, and he points towards the door.
"GET THE @#$%ING HELL OUT OF MY KITCHEN."
--------------
The tables creak a bit when you test them, but no more than would be expected. You comb the entire length of the table and find nothing more dangerous than a single one-inch splinter.
The chandeliers appear to have been anchored to the ceiling with additional tethers, even beyond what you would normally see. They are also placed in locations at which they would fall on the table itself or on the bare open ground.
The dining hall is open aside from the table and chairs. As you note the number of chairs and the size of the room, then account for wait staff, you note that the biggest obstacle should a crisis break-out in here would be manuevering through a panicked crowd.
|
|
"What? WHERE?"
The big man looks left and right, disappointed that he did not get to see the epic fowl of which Luisila speaks. Alas. Well, he can look forward to it at dinner, anyway.
In the stable/kennels, Conan eagerly plays with the puppies wolfhounds, rubbing their bellies and scratching behind their ears. He would probably have wound up rolling on the floor with them if not for Tespren's disapproving look; sheepishly, Conan resumes the tour with the others.
In the great hall, Conan's exuberance is dimmed by the sight of the massive reptilian head on the wall. He approaches below the head somberly, and stands on his tiptoes in order to reach up and pat the taxidermied draconic beast on the snout with one hand. "என்று நமக்கு ஒரு உறவினர் ஒரு சரியான விதி உள்ளது," he mutters in a low, sonorous language.
In the salon, Conan itches to ask the White Grotto students if said college is ever going to open a comedy department, because he keeps writing the dean about that, and getting no response... but he restrains himself, his brows knitting together in bemusement at Luisila's requests.
In every room Conan casts a spell to look for the presence or absence of magic, making note of any auras he happens to see.
These things done, Conan busies himself offering an arm for Luisila to swoon upon, and looking in confusion between Luisila and the outraged chef.
Stage-whisper, "...You mean that's not Yasmar...?"
Ultimately, though, Conan winds up in the dining hall itself, comfortably at his ease in the hours before the arrival of the guests. He's found a little tray of fingerfood from somewhere (no doubt Domeros will be furious when he finds that missing) and is happily, sedately munching on little cubes of cheese from tiny toothpicks. He has no further questions for their hosts or the servants.
|
|
“My apologies, Miss. My enthusiasm for making a good impression on my High Priestess got the better of me.”
“How about we keep the artist, but change the song? Can you do My Way when Lady Dyrianna enters instead? Pleeeeease.”
♪♫♬♩
As she makes a rapid retreat from the kitchen, a ✩ struck Luisila is convinced she has been berated by her fave celebrity chef, regardless of what he’s calling himself.
Stage-whisper, "...You mean that's not Yasmar...?"
"You heard how he swore at me, Conan." Reverently she sighs “Oh, it totally was …”
The cleric opens her Pathfinder purse and starts hyperventilating into it until she calms down. Waving both hands rapidly at her face she exclaims excitedly to the kitsune rogue.
“Did you see that, Takkit? I even got some of his spittle on my face! I’m NEVER washing it off!”
|
|
Seeing the dogs in the stable Kalendir slowly approaches with a bent knee. Reaching out a hand he pats each one on the head.
They seem awful tame... Kalendir whispers to the group. Too clean to be any sorry of a guard dog. They won't even be a good warning.
Kalendir is quiet throughout the rest of the house.
Without their funding how will people like the Pathfinders and soldiers not be able to protect them from the atrocities so that they can keep these exquisite material possessions. Who will protect them from being overrun by demons....
Kalendirs mood changes for the better as he reaches the garden.
Seems someone here knows how to treat and shape nature at least. He reaches a gloved hand out to caress a small yellow flower.
Heading down to the wine storage Kalendir watches as Quiven picks the lock on the well. His face grimaces. All this money and cheap locks. Bending over the ledge he peers down into it's depths to see if anything is lurking below.
Yes, Quiven, yes it does.
|
|
Great Hall
The head is of a sea drake. As you take a moment to give your respects, you see that it was probably an older female, judging by her coloring.
You do not notice any unusual auras. There are a number of magical lights throughout the manor, as well as some containers in the kitchen that were enchanted to remain chilled.
The cheese is absolutely exquisite. You are not entirely sure of the kind.
The half-orc cellist sighs again, stopping her tuning and turning towards her fellow musicians for affirmation. A couple of them shrug or nod, and she turns back.
"Yeah, yeah. We can do it."
You take your time and search the well, and you don't notice any secret passages.
The dogs initialy grumble a bit as Kalendir pets them, perhaps picking up on the uneasy tension of the party as they prepare for trouble, but they calm quickly as they realize he is harmless to them. Judging from the equipment in the kennel and the breeds, you can gather that these dogs are primarily used for hunting, not for guarding.
You also take your time searching the well, and you do not see any secret passageways.
|
Takkit skitters about, his bushy tail flicking back and forth as he makes his way through each room, taking in the sights and smells and doing his best to memorize the staff, spending more time on the outside hires such as the string quartet. He spends most of his time in the garden and the wine cellar, checking the gazebo area for hidden caches of weapons that may be stashed for later retrieval, and the well in the cellar.
At the well, he unlocks the cover, casts light on the bucket, and lowers it in to see if anything is at the bottom.
|
|
Quiven, Wei Ji, Kalendir, Luisila and Takkit give the manor a thorough search, employing the skills they've learned from the Society with remarkable skill and dedication. At one point, Conan--still eating his cheese--catches a few words between Major Colson and Lady Gloriana, speaking praisingly of the performance of their chosen agents.
Minutes before the first guests are expected, you are all shuffled to the dining hall to await them, along with Major Colson and Lady Gloriana. The hosts take up the task of greeting their guests at the door. The dining hall is filled with light appetizers and drinks. One of the waiters appears to be in a controlled panic as he frantically searches for a play of gourmet cheeses.
As the clocks in the manor strike 7:00 PM, (most of) the guests make their entrance precisely on-time. A herald announces each of the guests in-turn as they are brought to the dining hall.
"Lady Vaelia of House Wintermark!"
Lady Vaelia is venerable and frail and walks with the aid of an ebony cane. She wears a stylish greenand-blue gown, a fortune in jewelry, and her late husband’s battle-notched masterwork falcata (though she appears clearly too feeble to wield it). She attends the feast with her elderly manservant, who shoos away the Blakros servants and sees to Lady Vaelia’s every need.
"Lady Dyrianna of House Avenstar, Head Hetaera of Calistria and Consul of the Courtesan’s Guild!"
Lady Dyrianna is a stunningly beautiful, slender half-elf who wears a constant look of satisfied amusement. Her emerald-green gown and matching lace shawl are surprisingly conservative, but very elegant. She
appears unarmed. Lady Dyrianna attends the feast with a handsome young male half-elf.
"Lord Rothos of House Vastille, Captain of the First Guard!"
Lord Rothos is a tall, handsome man in his late forties, wearing formal attire and a black military-styled longcoat bearing his family crest and many military decorations. A longsword hangs from his belt and the silverchased hilt of a dagger peeks out of his right boot. He attends the feast alone.
"Scion Lord Kerkis of House Damaq, Lord Exchequer of the Absalom Mint!"
Lord Kerkis is a thin, wiry Keleshite in his early fifties, with a neatly trimmed beard and bushy eyebrows. He wears an expensive, Keleshite-styled, loose-fitting silk robe, a jewel-covered silk vest, and a gold-bladed ceremonial scimitar at his belt. He attends the feast with a beautiful young Keleshite woman.
"Lady Darchana of House Madinani, Second Spell Lord of Absalom and Head Mistress of the Arcanimirium!"
Lady Darchana is a cold, pale beauty with piercing gray eyes and long blue-black hair. She wears solid midnight-blue wizard’s robes and a dazzling mithral tiara studded with rubies, emeralds, and sapphires. She appears unarmed. She attends the feast alone.
"Grand Ambassador Dremdhet Salhar of Osirion!"
Dremdhet Salhar is a heavyset man with a well-oiled hair and beard. He and his wife the Lady Anilah both wear matching gold-embroidered silk robes in the Osirion fashion, as well as a fortune in gold rings, necklaces, and other jewelry. Salhar wears a jeweled mithral short sword at his belt.
Senator Naran of Andoran is notably absent at this time.
Making Friends and Influencing People: ROUND ONE
Quiven
Wei Ji
Kalendir
Luisila
Takkit
Conan
|
|
As the great grandfather clock ticks nearer to 6:59, Conan pulls a short, heavy looking golden stick from his pack. It's carved like a dragon's tail; Conan bows his head briefly and touches his forehead to it, looking momentarily serious. He mutters words of a spell, his fingers flicking in an arcane pattern.
Right. He has cheese in his belly, the power of his mighty ancestors humming in his veins, and.... a party to work. Conan rises from his chair with a little swoosh of his cloak and collects a wine glass from a circulating servant, eyeing the mingled guests with something quasi-predatory in his gaze. Who first....
His gaze settles on Lord Rothos, and he strides towards the sharply-and-soberly dressed individual, shoulders squared and chin slightly raised.
"LORD ROTHOS!" he says, and punctuates it with the same crisp salute he gave Major Colson Maldris at the briefing. "It's good to see a military man at this affair! Good of you to attend, when I know the duty of guarding the city takes up so much of your time!"
Conan snags a second wine glass and proffers it to Lord Rothos; if he declines, Conan will drink them both without being terribly concerned over the matter. "I am CONAN O'BRIEN, and it is true that in this city I am best known for my comedic pursuits! But I assure you I am a man of martial mettle much like yourself! Still, let me give you a small taste of my noted wit!"
He leans in closer to Rothos, and despite his promise of 'wit,' his voice is deadly serious and grim as he says, "Where are you when a demon traps you against a wall, Lord Rothos?"
After a suitable pause to let the man offer guesses, Conan continues, "Between a vrock and a hard place." (The pun is also delivered quite seriously.) "Have you ever seen a vrock, Commander? Wings black as NIGHT. Claws to rip a man's BOWELS from his BODY. I have seen them black like a cloud in the north, spilling from the great scar of the Worldwound like the miasma from a cesspit, spreading to darken the very sky. Walls and cavalry, aye, and even miles of ocean fare POORLY as a defense against such HORRORS."
Note: Conan has never been to the Worldwound.
"If you will, Commander, picture with me a moment the dread SPECTRE of these beasts descending on Absalom, last bastion of hope in a demon-conquered world. Imagine your brave soldiers, plucked off the walls and hurled to their death. Imagine the winged death spreading over this magnificent city, leaving it only a charnel house. WE CANNOT LET THIS HAPPEN, Captain. We must strike while the rot is yet small. We must bring all we have to bear, on THE WORLDWOUND ITSELF. It is not a problem for the northern countries-- it is a problem for us ALL."
|
|
Before being rushed into the reception line, Luisila *casts* eagle’s splendor on herself and take another deep breath.
Show time!
When Lady Dyrianna of Avenstar is announced, Luisila’s curtsey is so deep, her chin is virtually on the ground.
She takes the High Priestess’ ecclesiastical ring in both hands deferentially, before kissing it with passion. “Your Eminence’s ravishing beauty eclipses the moon and stars that grace the skies above the Floral Fields of Elysium.”
Breathlessly she adds, “Velvet Wing Herself is undoubtedly jealous of your poise, wisdom and the favor you hold with the Savored Sting.”
“I have prepared a musical interlude for you in the Salon, O Vigilante Supreme. If it pleases you to condescend to speak with me later, we can discuss the myriad of business ventures available in Mendev, which is home to thousands of lonely crusaders, well aware that they may be dead tomorrow.”
“Sadly much of the ignorant populace cannot differentiate between Our Beloved Lady in the Room and the Foul Lady of Shadow, Demon Lord Nocticula! Though I managed to refute this blasphemy to all I could reach during by brief sojourn to the Wound, the opportunity to bring Sweet Rapture to their frigid hearts via Calistrian missionaries is there for the taking!”
“I am at your dispoal throughout the evening for any purpose, O Vicar of the Menotherian …”
|
|
Good evening, Scion Lord Kerkis of House Damaq! I am Quiven Glist and very pleased to make your acquaintance! If I may ask, I understand you have a very important job, being Lord Exchequer of the Absalom Mint! What exactly does that job do? Like I said, it sounds really important! Quiven will also introduce himself to his companion. What is it that you do? I bet its also very important! Can I get you something, maybe a banana?
|
|
Kalendir approaches Lady Vaelia of House Wintermark. He holds out the crook of his arm.
Welcome. I trust that you are doing well My Lady. Allow me to show you to your seat.
Kalendir slowly walks Lady Vaelia around.
I am part of the Pathfinder Organization and we have just been made aware that the Worldwound is beginning to overflow with demons as I am sure you are aware of. If they are not stopped they may soon overrun Absalom itself. We could really use some help ridding the area of the foul beasts before they dismember innocent people.
With that being said allow me to escort you around this evening.
|
|
Wei Ji will approach Ambassador Dremdhet Salhar and his wife.
"Honored Ambassador, Lady Anilah. I would be Wei Ji, humble student of the Master of Masters, and seeker of knowledge and the freedom to learn.
Osirion has been incredible and instrumental in furthering the wisdom and understanding of the past, and what we must undertake in the future to put those lessons to use.
It was through the blessing of the Ruby Prince that we were able to explore the Hall of Seven Scepters, the resting place of Alkhet Utmari, known as 'The Merchant Prince', and learn many things of his time among the living.
The future before us, though, is somewhat bleak. If we can't muster the resources of past knowledge, modern ingenuity, and future hope, then the magnificent stories and tales lost to the ages within your lands might never be found.
If we cannot stop the demons at the Worldwound decisively, then they will break out in time and to all lands.
That being said though, this is a dinner, and a place to speak on many things. While I am but learning of new ways, it is often said that the best way to learn is from one another.
If you would honor me with the privilege of assisting you this evening, I will do everything I can to share what I know, and learn from you. The Master of Masters would have it no other way."
|
|
Lord Rothos turns and stands with his arms akimbo. He keeps his head low and his back arched, giving away quite clearly his low birth. He returns Conan's salute with another, shifting instantly to a proper posture and back again. He speaks deliberately and clearly.
”Pleasure to meet ya, kid.”
He holds out a hand to shake, then notices the two glasses of wine in Conan's hands. He waves away the wine that Conan offers. ”More of a whiskey man myself.” He picks up his glass from the table next to him and takes a sip.
He stares blankly and unmovingly as Conan offers his “wit” to him. After hearing the question, he merely shrugs and says ”What?”. He then nods sagely at the punchline to Conan's joke, not quite sure if it was a joke.
Then Conan begins his description of the Worldwound and it hits him, and it hits him hard. Lord Rothos appears to age ten years in front of Conan as the latter's vivid imagery evokes memories of a hard life of battle.
When Conan finally gets to the image of demons swarming over Absalom, Lord Rothos briefly turns away, taking a long drink from his glass of whiskey before leaning over onto the table, his head hanging low.
”Thirty years ago, back before I had all these fancy titles and medals and clothes, I lost a good friend to a demon right in front of me, right here in Absalom. I won't let that happen to anyone else.” His voice cracks for just the briefest moment.
He finally turns back around and offers his hand once more to Conan, who has easily finished at least one of his glasses of wine by now and has a free hand.
”You can count on my support.”
-------------------------------
Lady Dyriana offers a reserved embrace and a kiss on each cheek to her disciple before returning to her bodyguard's side. The half-elven man almost as stunningly handsome as she is beautiful. She freely touches him whenever it fancies her, occasionally giving him a suggestive look as well.
Lady Dyriana's playful smile widens as Luisila begins introducing herself.
”How could I not wish to speak more with such a delightful young woman, especially one of my people!”
Lady Dyriana makes a show of focusing mostly on her bodyguard as Luisila continues her string of pleasantries and praises. Her attention suddenly turns completely to Luisila, her eyes popping in mild surprise.
”I had not been aware of this conflation of Our Beloved Lady with a demoness. Such sleights against our Mistress cannot be allowed. The Vengeance of the Savored Sting shall come.” Her tone takes on a vicious venom as she voices those last words.
Lady Dyriana tilts her head to one side and begins curling a piece of her hair in her finger. She looks Luisila up-and-down very slowly, lightly biting her lip.
”Faelyn and I are rather ravenous. We were considering a second dinner after this little gathering of more sweeter fare.”
She gives Luisila a gaze that could make a man (and many women) feint.
”Three's company after all.”
-----------------------
Scion Lord Kerkis speaks Common without the slightest trace of a Kelish accent, each word pronounced clearly and with perfect stress and grammar. He holds his head high, his expression neutral and inscrutable. The beautiful Keleshite woman that accompanies him stands close and makes a show of fawning over him, but she noticeably does not touch him, stopping herself any time she gets close.
”You understand nothing. How can you have any possible conception of the gravity of my position without even beginning to properly understand the precise services that I provide to this ungrateful city?” His delivery is mechanical and reserved, any trace of sentiment vacuumed out of each and every word.
”My time is worth 20,378.92 Absalom gold standard pieces per minute, according to this evening's estimates. The mere time commitment of this evening has a gross cost of 6,113,676 gold pieces that is only offset by it being precalculated into my quarterly projections, as I am required by my position to appear at events such as this one, and the long-term profit margins of continued friendly interaction with many of the other guests in attendance.”
-------------------------
Lady Vaelia does not move or make a sound when Kalendir holds out his arm and addresses her, maintaining the vicious scowl that has been permanently drawn on her face by her apparent repeated attempts to smooth out her wrinkles. Her elderly manservant interposes himself between her and Kalendir, but she waves him off.
”Enough, Tamuel.”
She glances to Kalendir out of the corner of her eye then gives a scornful “hmph.”
”They send an elf to talk to me. Perhaps they presume to think we will bond over memories of pre-Earthfall Golarion.”
She rests a hand on her late husband's falcata.
”Do you know what I heard of elves? They do not reach adulthood until one-hundred-and-ten-years-old. Most humans would be in the grave by then, and your kind will have just finally finished jumping around in bushes. It marvels me. I wonder exactly how your kind could take over a century to do what a human does in only twenty.
She brings the full force of her glare upon Kalendir.
”Clearly, you must all be idiots.”
-----------------------
Dremdhet Salhar smiles and throws up his hand in greeting, his wife held deeply in his other. His voice is booming and heavy with an Osirioni accent.
”Ah! Greetings, sadiq! How are you! I have never had the pleasure of introducing myself to a bird before. How long did it take you to prepare that speech? You are not bird-brained, I hope!”
Lady Anilah laughs along with her husband, patting his shoulder.
|
|
Takkit approaches Lady Darchana after he fluffs his tail out, smoothes his ears, and makes sure the fur on his cheeks pokes out like all of the pictures of foxes he's ever seen in children's books.
I have to make friends. She's alone, so maybe she needs a friend?
The kitsune waits until she is on the fringe of the party, and then makes it seem like he was just in the same place at the same, being alone. He looks up at her, feigning startlement at her presence.
Oh, My Lady, I didn't see you there. How does the evening find you? I'm Takkit, one of the pathfinders sent here for all the ridiculous pomp and circumstance, and extra security. I hope my armor and weapons aren't too distasteful for all the nobles, but if I'm to help keep everyone safe, I don't want to take any chances, you know? Especially after what happened in my time at the WorldWound...
The kitsune seems to lose himself in thought for a moment as he makes up a memory.
We thought we were ready... We were hosting a visit from Mendevian nobles who wanted to see what the front lines were like. The demons waited until we were all eating a feast, much like this one. Even though the guards were armed, they were still distracted, and no one stood a chance. The demons cut through us like paper dolls. Only a few of us made it out alive. Afterward, I found myself in the Society, but I still try to help and support the brave men and women out there, fighting to push back the evil spewing from that pit...
He shakes his head, seeming to try to right himself.
But enough of that! This is supposed to be a fun event. Please, tell me of yourself. If we are both to be here alone, then perhaps we should get to know one another!
|
|
Kalendir smiles behind his mask. I try not to focus on the past, but rather learn from it. I instead focus on the future, if there will be one not overrun by a demon infestation.
Kalendir bows.
I do not mean to upset you in the least my lady, but rather well inform you is all as I am sure my associate Wei Ji can further clarify on.
|
|
It does not take long for Lady Darchana to take up a seat at the edge of the room. She does not appear to notice the kitsune's approach, though her inscrutably blase demeanor makes it difficult to know entirely for certain.
She idly holds a glass of red wine in her hand, swirling it about. She lightly taps against the table with her other hand. Her bright silver-grey eyes show no sign of vitality as they consider the contents of her glass.
"Fun? If you say so."
She does not even take her eyes off her glass as Takkit tells his story.
"Every position on every topic has been confirmed by anecdote at one point or another. Anecdotes are worthless."
She takes a sip of her wine then turns her head to Takkit.
"My so-called 'plus-one' could not attend, so I will allow you to try again with a more evidence-based approach."
|
|
After about fifteen minutes of mingling, the Pathfinders appear to have made some inroads with two of the attendees, but have found only rejection with the others for the time being. Just as the Pathfinders have the opportunity to regroup and assess their strategy, the herald comes forth ones more.
"Senator Augustyn Naran of Andoran!"
The Senator and (apparently) his new wife enter shortly. Senator Naran is an obese, constantly sweating man in his late sixties. He and his stunning bride wear very expensive formal attire: he wears a stylish gray-and-black suit and she wears an elegant royal blue gown studded with silver beads and glittering jewels. Naran wears a gold-pommeled silver rapier at his belt that looks like it’s never seen a real fight.
|
|
For the next fifteen minutes, Wei Ji carefully shadows Scion Lord Kerkis, keeping a close eye on him as the man mingles.
Wei Ji notices that Kerkis masterfully maintains his precise and inscrutable demeanor...until the Keleshite Kerkis hears Lady Vaelia make a racist comment about his people and the "sun b%+~%" they worship. Kerkis visibly tenses at hearing this comment and removes himself to another part of the room.
Occasionally, Kerkis's eyes will dart over to the uproariously loud Conan when the latter makes a particularly boisterous movement. Kerkis only shakes his head.
Wei Ji believes Scion Lord Kerkis is particularly proud of his heritage, and has a hefty dislike of anyone that disparages it. In fact, he seems to have a particular hatred of the acidic Lady Vaelia. Also, Kerkis appears to appreciate proper manners and reserved actions, while disliking the opposite.
|
|
Conan gravely shakes Rothos's hand, claps him on the back, and murmurs words about remembrances of the fallen before he goes in search of more prey opportunities. He does knock back the second glass of the wine en route. Knocking back glasses of wine is barbaric, of course. But then, he is, in fact, a barbarian...
His serious demeanor falls away as he notices the fashionably late arrival of the Andoren senator. Conan strides thataways, setting his tricorn at a jaunty angle on his head.
On reaching the senator, instead of a bow, Conan extends his hand for a hearty handshake-between-equals, as one does, in Andoran! "AH, THERE'S THE MAN OF THE PEOPLE!" he booms with a massive grin on his face. "AND HIS CHARMING BRIDE! A DEFINITE PLEASURE! CONAN O'BRIEN, HOW DO YOU DO, AUGUSTYN? MAY I CALL YOU AUGUSTYN?"
Conan's volume decreases slightly at closer quarters. He carries on, "I'm pleased to see that ORDINARY FOLK come to things like this, and not only the ARISTOCRACY of the other lands. All people need to be represented fairly at these CONCERNS, because you can be sure the DEMONS won't bother to ask our social class before SLAUGHTERING us, eh?"
Conan strokes his chin a moment. "This shindig puts me in mind of the last time I was in Kaer Maga, actually-- you know there's a sizable portion of Andoran Freemen in the city, Senator? Doughty chaps! And lasses! Each and every one of them, I'd trust at my back in a fight against the horrors of the abyss. They were glad enough to see me! I brought up their spirits with some humor from home! We needed to start a bit of a people's revolution in the city, you see, so I asked them if they were free that night! And then I said, HA, silly question, of course you're all free! You're Andorans!!!!"
Conan buffs his nails a moment on his sparkly shirt, then adds on, "By the by, have you stopped by our embassy here in Absalom lately? We had that trouble a while ago with that upstart Chelish pirate-slaver-scum attacking our sovereign lands-- I was able to lend a bit of a helping hand there-- but perhaps a word at the People's Council regarding our navy from you might have more effect! We are each but solitary men, yet, combined, we are a bastion wall of freedom and justice and the will of the people!"
"Of course-- pirates and slavers are but a small threat compared to the demons themselves," Conan carries on blithely. "Though that does remind me of a joke-- how do you make holy water?"
He gives the senator, and his young wife, a moment to offer guesses, before he grins conspiratorially and delivers the punchline. "Why, you simply take holy water... and BOIL THE HELL OUT OF IT!"
|
|
“You will not remember me, Lord Senator. My name is Luisila. I had the great privilege to address the People’s Council to highlight the actions of a traitor known as ‘The Spider’ who sought election as a Senator to facilitate the downfall of Andoran.”
She smiles brightly. “I was so happy when the Senate most wisely voted to proscribe her and I was on the arrest team that captured her.”
“Oh, isn’t it hot in here?” Luisila waves her hand in front of her face like a fan. “Can I offer you an endure elements spell, Lord Senator? I understand your family is in banking?”
Luisila takes a napkin from a passing waiter and draws a rough map on the item with lippie. These are the projections Venture-Captain Jorsal of Lauterbury has made if the Crusaders fail to halt the current demonic surge. Now I don’t claim to understand all the details *giggle* But I take it after only six months a lot of prime farmland in Avistan is GONE, the Galtan capital will have fallen and the demonic horde will be at Andoran’s northern frontier!”[/b]
“I don’t need to tell a man as smart as you that financing a World War of this magnitude has the potential to bankrupt not only old banking Houses, but the ENTIRE ANDORAN ECONOMY. Even in metropolitan Almas and Augustana, horses and stately homes may be seized for the armed forces! Basic staples will be rationed and things like truffles, coffee and chocolate will become almost unknown!”
Luisila approaches Scion Lord Kerkis with a highball of iced water in her hand. She *bobs* to the noble but makes no attempt to offer her hand. “My name is Luisila, My Lord. Although I serve the Unquenchable Fire, I count one priest and two inquisitors of the Dawnflower as close friends. Indeed, I accompanied one of those inquisitors, Bazresh Izzakesh to the Worldwound.”
“I understand you view these evenings as having a LARGE lost opportunity cost. But have you ever considered them as an investment?”
Luisila takes a napkin from a passing waiter and draws a rough map on the item with lippie. "These are the projections Venture-Captain Jorsal of Lauterbury has made if the Crusaders fail to halt the current demonic surge. Now I don’t claim to understand all the details as well as you would, but it seems after only six months a lot of prime agricultural land in Avistan is GONE, the Galtan capital has fallen and the demonic horde will be at Andoran and Taldor’s northern frontiers! Next stops - Absalom and Qadira."
“I don’t need to tell a man as insightful as you that financing a World War of this magnitude will bankrupt whole national economies in short order. Even if Absalom does hold out for – what, maybe a year? There will be nobody to trade with. Even before the demons conquer the City that has never been successfully besieged, money the lifeblood of OUR city will be virtually irrelevant.”
She smiles. “But it need not come to that, My Lord. For a relatively small upfront investment, your government can protect itself from this nightmare, without having to commit a single soldier of your own.”
|
|
By the time Conan gets to the Senator, Naran already has a cigar in his mouth. He throws up his free hand in greeting to Conan as he approaches.
"Why you must be Conan O'Brien!" His deep voice carries a folksy accent.
He places his cigar in his mouth and holds out a hand to shake. "Pleasure, pleasure."
He takes his cigar in his hand once more after the handshake.
"This here is my wife, Dalessa. Say hello, Dalessa."
She gives a dainty curtsy. "Charmed, I'm sure," she says.
Senator Naran taps some ashes off his cigar. "Charmed, charmed." He smiles, a bit of self-satisfaction squeezing through. "What's a nice looking young man like yourself doing heah all alone?" He places his cigar in his mouth and his smile broadens.
He turns to his wife. "Dalessa, why dontcha go get one a' them whiskeys for me like the one Lord Rothos has? The men need to have a bit of a talk."
"Absolutely, Honey," she says back, giving a final curtsy.
Naran then listens attentively to Conan as he describes his adventures, making appropriate "mmhmm's" and "certainly's" and so forth as they are called for, nodding to his wife as she brings him a whiskey to nurse before heading out to mingle on her own a bit.
Conan elicits a single guffah from the Senator, who then takes his cigar out of his mouth again.
"You've certainly done a great deal for the Andoren people. I'll have to see about getting you a nice commendation when I get back. Maybe I could even get a preliminary exploratory committee to look into this whole matter about demons and such for you."
---------
Scion Lord Kerkis simply nods to Luisila as she mentions her association with Sarenites. After spending several minutes watching him, Wei Ji recognizes that this is about as much of a sign of approval as the man will give.
Kerkis raises an eyebrow as Luisila begins drawing her unorthodox map, but he remains quiet, having sat through countless business proposals in his life.
After she finishes her spiel, he looks over the map in more detail, pausing occasionally as he mouths the calculations running in his head. He finally returns his attention to Luisila.
"I had not been made aware that the situation was indeed this dire. Naturally, my projections would have led me to the same conclusion if I had been in possession of all of the information. I shall certainly need to confirm this information independantly, as well as run new projections, but I have found your proposal quite convincing. Have your finance people contact me directly with the details.
He bows sharply, then turns and leaves to mingle elsewhere in the room.
|
|
Conan's mouth goes slightly slack at Augustyn's very polite 'no' in response to his MAGNIFICENT MONOLOGUE. After a moment, Conan-- a natural redhead, and therefore pale of skin-- blushes, tips of his pointed ears turning pink.
WHY, THE INDIGNITY.
PRELIMINARY EXPLORATORY COMMITTEE.
A muscle jumps in Conan's jaw and a little vein bulges in his forehead. For one moment his eyes flash, not their usual blue, but a coppery hue... then he draws himself up, and offers a stiff nod to the Senator.
"As you say, Senator! I won't take up any more of your PRECIOUS TIME, enjoy your WHISKEY."
Conan turns and strides away with his face burning. THE HUMILIATION OF IT ALL.
To the bar it is, to get some of that whiskey his own self! As he passes Luisila, he mutters in a savage whisper, "Augustyn is a PHILISTINE with no sense of HUMOR and he said he would appoint a PRELIMINARY EXPLORATORY COMMITTEE over the MATTER. WHY NOT JUST SHOOT ME WITH A POISONED BOLT, YOU POMPOUS SMOKE-SPOUTING TROPHY-WIFE-FLAUNTING TRAITOR OF THE PEOPLE'S PRINCIPLES--"
...the rest of his litany of insults are lost as he proceeds on towards the bar.
|
|
“Wait, wait a moment, Conan.” Luisila goes to put a hand on the celebrity's rapidly retreating shoulder but pulls it back after a moment’s reconsideration.
Instead she follows the Ginga Ninja to the bar, standing patiently beside him for about one whiskey and three angry mutters, until he calms down. The priestess gestures to the others to approach if they’re interested.
“You are THE Conan O’Brien. He is an Andoran politician. What happened just now was wrong on so many levels. I have a hunch – and it’s just a hunch mind – that there may be something else at play.”
“The Senator was late to the Feast. The Blaroses made specific mention of it. Could he be under some kinda demonic influence, or could he and/or his wife be demons in disguise?”
Luisila taps an index finger across her lips as she thinks. “Would it break protocol to test my theory somehow? Is it worthwhile having us or security check the surroundings for bodies? Am I way off? What do you think?”