Elspeth makes a noise that sounds like someone pouring a glass of water into a boiling pot.
"Sorry, Sandru - were you saying she should go in now, or that you think she'll slow you down?"
Turning to Ianez "Sorry Ianez, in answer to your question that is Calisle, that looks like Windermere, this looks like Guillemont, and I that is definitely Foxglove - makes sense there'd be a Foxglove mixed up in this somewhere."
All of the emblems Ianez was able to find were of the Salon. "Sending in a scout is wise."
I look at the marks as Caramarc says the names, I will try t remember. I pat Blackacre on the shoulder. You will be OK, yes?
Not now, when I can follow her... When Blackacre is better. Maybe she can check the entrance...
Elspeth, come let us see what we can from the roof.
As Sandru goes to cimb the building, La Siréene casts Spider Climb on him.
Here. This will make your scouting easier.
I pat Blackacre on the shoulder. You will be OK, yes?
Blackacre nods back at Sandru. I am getting better all the time, friend.
Madame Sabine has rubbed off on you? Thanks...
I take a short running start and then jump to cling to the wall, several feet above the ground crawling vertically I ascend with even more confidence.
The stables are on an annexed plot of land, but there is no direct connection between the stables and the house. There are carriages parked along the street in the front, and on the grass around the east side of the house facing the stables. But, of course, now they sit marooned without horses.
From the front of the mansion, there floats into the night a warm, stately, inviting murmur; sounds of a string quartet (or maybe a victrola?), laughter, conversation, and the clinking of cocktails.
There are sounds from rear of the mansion that indicate it is occupied, but it is relatively quiet. There's a marsh, a ragged field, behind the mansion. From that direction, you hear shuffling sounds and low moans.
If one was to try to inspect the back half of the mansion further...maybe trying to draw on their skill of the arcane arts, or of spellcraft...they'd be able to see that the entire back half of the house is surrounded by a magical field. Some sort of barrier.
It is very high level magic, and this is all any of you would be able to determine.
I tell them what we found. I know Caromarc may already know from Elspeth.
Something is strange, out there... I don't know. Rich people usually have more protection.
Blackacre looks better, what now?
"Now we make them regret their actions."
"I think it's worth seeing what's in the field behind the house. Likely it's nothing but undead, but there may be something there to learn."
"Ok people. What are our options? We should be stealthy in entering the mansion. I, for one, would not like to go through the front door. Maybe we can climb the sides and enter through a window on one of the upper floors." Quinn shrugs his shoulders indicating that he is fishing for ideas.
"I should be able to reform any stone part of the mansion into a neat entrance. Sandru is currently capable of lifting impressive amounts, as well as traverse vertically, so that should not be a problem. I agree with Ianez that we should scout the field."
Scouting sounds a reasonable idea, but what about going in the front door, sooner or later? We have our fashionable clothes, after all.
Blackacre sweeps his hands across his glamered suit.
We certainly have the ability to sneak in the back, but could we not also walk in the front door like we belong there?
La Siréene plays with her black hair for a moment.
"Straightforward, easy to gather Intel. Yes, I agree with Gaston. I'd quite like to walk straight in as if we belonged."
I start to move to the front door.
The front of the mansion has a large painted white door, with baroque woodwork and a wrought-iron knocker.
House Caromarc? I ask those behind me. Gast...nicht?
Caromarc sizes up La Siréene"Hmmm - if I described a man to you, would you be able to take his form?"
Taken aback by this enquiry into Nameless's craft, he temporarily loses La Siréene's demeanor, speaking almost entirely without any conscious body language.
"Interesting question. Yes and no. Could I take any theoretical humanoid shape? Yes. Could I make it so that someone intimate with the subject could not in any circumstance tell the difference? No."
"Forget about shapeshifting. We have the Glamer. Let's hope the drow witch's deceptions work in our favor and worth the price we paid for. If it doesn't then we better think about where we should strategically be"
"Of course, Quinn. I was overthinking. There was a man Sandru and I knew who may well have been known by this group. But we shall just enter as House Caromarc. I only hope they'll believe I'm the same sort of deranged arcanist as they!"
The twisted black shadowy familiar writhes through the floor towards her master as she feels the doubts in Caromarc's mind.
Bowing his cowled head and dipping the beruned scythe the Earl's mechanical manservant replies
"I am sure your acting is up to the job, sir. However, perhaps it might be worth nominating someone more comfortable at deceit as your herald?"
I look at the manservant, tilting my head out of habit... he uses a lot of words and in different order. Sin... syn... 'syntax' Caromarc calls it.
And, I try to remember what the words mean; nominat-ing, deceit, herald... did the dragon use that same word or something like it?
He wants a good liar.
I turn to look at the shape-shifter. She's comfortable with lies.
La Siréene gives an ironic smile.
""Capable" and "comfortable" is not the same, Sandru."
Incorrect information limits construct capability. Less interesting.
"Capable as I am, I am willing to take on this deceit, however."
Blackacre asks Ragathiel to guide La Sireene's deception, that it might further the cause of justice.
Quinn addresses the his new found friends, "I guess Sandru and I will be.... bodyguards. Being that we are the non spell casters, I think this role should be befitting for us."
Not the same, yes. But you seem comfortable in each skin you are in. No? I shrug.
"This is true. The forms themslves are... enjoyable."
I snarl, making a low throaty roar... Do you think he's in there Caromarc? I thought he was dead until a while ago... Maybe tonight the dead are coming back to life.
La Siréene shifts shape, replacing the glamer with her an identical recreation of her own - identical, that is, except for the heraldry of the House of Cerlisle now beeing part of the outfit, a green field with several red roses, and a silver wavy line across the center.
"I am the errant daughter of the Carlisle family, and you are with me. Anyone remember my name?"
"Not my area of study, I fear. I might be able to tell you the name of her great-great-grandmother, though."
"Truly? Lets simplify things, then. We are her friends and her guests. Easier to fake."
La Siréene lets the heraldry disappear, the outfit now back to being identical to the glamer.
La Siréene walks up to the front door, making use of the door knocker. There would be plenty of time to be rude and abrasive later, if the mood called for it.
Anyone carefully observing might have noted that La Siréene was making careful shifts in her body language as she was standing there, becoming comfortable with the situation.
She was going to enjoy this.
I watch the girl. I was right, no matter what she says. Maybe she doesn't like how comfortable she is with the lies, but she is... comfortable.
What is our relationship to you? We are different ages... not all can pass for mindless... party-drones. You could still use a body guard. Maybe Quinn is your... boyfriend.
I smile at the notion. Uptight copper. Hmmm... I like the word "drone", the sound of it keeps going in my ears.
"Presumably myself, Elspeth and my man here can pass as-is"
She gives Sandru an artful smile at his suggestion, speaking to him in soft, friendly tones.
"Well, of course you are my bodyguard, Sandru. As for Quinn; come over here, boyfriend." La Siréene reaches out and grabs Quinn's hand, dragging him beside her and pulling him in so their shoulders touch, enjoying this attempt at making him uncomfortable greatly.
As she addresses the others, the change in her demeanor as she shifts gears is practically palpable, Chatting away pleasantly and at speed.
"And of course Quinn and Hareton, learned men, are friends of Caromarc, who of course is just the person to invite to these things. I agree with you there, Caromarc."
Quinn gives a threatening stare towards Sandru as he is taken by the druidess. He whispers to the half-orc,"Expect payback later....Pork Chop.
The uptight cop stands closely besides the young lady, feeling a bit uncomforatable at the situation. For the first time the fluid monk looks a little robotic much like Caromarc's man-servant."Lady La Sireene....? You are enjoying this?"
You are interrupted. Right as Quinn and La Siréene pair up, the door opens.
A butler stands at the ready. He takes a polite step back with the door as it swings wide, revealing a hallway. It has high ceilings with large crystal chandeliers, oil paintings and mirrors along both side walls, a white floor marbled with black, with a red carpeted runner, and elegant lighted gold candelabras. There are small powder-room style tables, and a larger one with a guest book, inkwell, and quill pen, all spilling over with bouquets of orchids and lilies in different colors.
The butler is surprised by the large party on the doorstep, but with the utmost of professional restraint, hides this reaction. All you see is that he is smooth and polished, like the marbled floor. After all, it is not his place to question guests of your station. Therefore, he decides discretion is the better part of valor, simply offers to take your coats or bags as necessary, and says he will take you into the party at once.
"Whom shall I say I am introducing?" he asks in a constricted, nasally tone. "I assume you are here for the reception tonight of Baron Dragomir dan Volst, and his initiation into the Salon?"
Quinn stays close to La Sireene, playing the part of being the "boyfriend" to an aristocrat. He puts his hand on La Sireene's lower back and gently guides the young druidess to the front. The monk begins to play his role, the silent piece of "man-meat" that is expected of him.
One thing he mentally jots down....the name of Baron Dragomir dan Volst.
Ianez defers to La Siréene and Caromarc's response, hands clasped behind his back.