Roland Aristocrat Campaign

Game Master Goldstool Shroomshine

Aron is delighted and offers quick, small claps when Valentina takes her smoke. “I don’t believe it will be too hard to enjoy your company. Um, your nation's company I mean.” Aron addresses Raphael after he mentions the 'bracing discussion.' “Well, I’ll have to arrange a get together to talk about trade between us.” He smirks slightly, and doesn’t sound too serious on the matter. Aron doesn’t strike you as a man who cares too much about his job. Valentina says her greeting to Alexander, and Aron tries not to hide a grin when she calls him “lovely.”

Halcyon and Lucia both enter the trophy, though Halcyon enters from the vestibule, and Lucia from the staircase room. Weapons and shields adorn the walls, daggers, crests, swords and more. Most of the weapons appear to be from parts of Durendal history, with some more ornate swords belonging to Galatine. The head of taxidermied beasts hang from above each door, and several creatures remain posed throughout the room. Some of them are even extinct creatures you have never seen before, such as a preserved, woman-like figure sealed in glass. She stands at around six feet. The vivid purple and red hues of the her fungal “dress” spiral into a dance of polypore mushrooms, with golden toadstool “buttons” dotting along it. Her skin is pale green, and her face appears beautiful with rose-like blush matching her crimson, petal-like hair. A small, gold plated label at her feet reads “Apolline. Last Living Fungus Queen.”

From the room you hear the faint conversations of those in the smoke room, though nothing loud enough to pick up. While the door to the bar is closed shut, the sounds of arguing are hard to tune out. In the trophy room are two other individuals, both human males. The first looks at weapons along the western wall with an almost child-like fascination. He is adorned in intricately woven light armor, wearing pieces of metal gilded gold. You hear him whisper “my gods...” as he leans in curiously to one of the blades. The other man is Francis Lyon, the man who ate dinner at your table. He examines the fungus queen in the top part of the room and takes a sip of his wine. Halcyon’s whistling get his attention, and he (habitually) gestures with his hand before calling her over in a hushed voice.

Continued.

Seth enter the bar room. Alcohol for the masses, self-served. A servant is in the room to make and serve drinks for those unaware how, or for those drunk enough to not be able to. From only a glance, you can tell Emile has an incredible selection. A few other guests must have noticed that as well, as two of them have already opened a bottle of ale and wine. Ernest Stoneheart, the dwarf, leans back in his chair, playing with a tiny construct man. The other man, a well dressed human with short fiery hair, fills his glass with wine. Leaning against a nearby wall is another spellcasting type, a human dressed most strange in an outfit comprised of many dark animals. They all look at you when you enter, but continue their conversation.

Ernest continues. “Ya really think we don’t know best for the Society?” The tiny construct climbs the dwarf’s round fingers, up towards his hand. "Careful” he tells it, as the little man grabs at hairs to hang on. “All us headmasters debated fer hundreds of hours to decide what stays and goes. People are scared, magic needs to serve em, not frighten em.”

“Worried yer grandchildren won’t play with your bones and make ya dance like a puppet?” The construct is at his elbow now. “Voidwalker is right this time. No demons. No dead. No mind messing.”

** spoiler omitted **

Ravenhall appears a bit caught off guard by Valentina’s demeanor. “A pleasure.” He returns nods to most of the party after their introduction.
** spoiler omitted **** spoiler omitted **** spoiler omitted **
Seth and his wife both exit, splitting off into different rooms. Alexander embraces Raphael’s hand, looking him over and smiling. “Allies in times like these are most important, I would be happy to join you in conversation.” The man sits down on the couch, and gestures once more towards the hookah. “Though I have heard quite enough debate over magic tonight, it seems the bar was quickly occupied by collection of casters.” He takes a puff, a light one this time, and looks to Marcus. “A tavern owner. It seems no matter the times or the crowd, a bar always pulls profits. If this Halcyon is as skilled as you all lead me to believe, I might have to visit your bar.” He passes the hookah to its next taker, Aron it seems.

marcus smiles "what can I say my passion in life is to bring joy to the people, provide people of all colors a creeds a place where they can eat drink and be merry, you would of course be welcome whenever you would stop by, first round would be on me."

Seth takes Alistair's hand cautiously. "Seth Varianna, mercenary." Seth takes his hand back and walks towards the open ale and gets himself some of it to drink. "You may continue your conversation if you wish. I won't be scared off by a topic I don't have a particular stance on." Seth takes a swig of the ale. "I have always preferred steel."

In the trophy room are two other individuals, both human males. The first looks at weapons along the western wall with an almost child-like fascination. He is adorned in intricately woven light armor, wearing pieces of metal gilded gold. You hear him whisper “my gods...” as he leans in curiously to one of the blades. The other man is Francis Lyon, the man who ate dinner at your table. He examines the fungus queen in the top part of the room and takes a sip of his wine. Halcyon’s whistling get his attention, and he (habitually) gestures with his hand before calling her over in a hushed voice.

Halcyon pretends not to see or hear Lyon and instead taps her way to the man admiring the swords. What has captured your attention, good sir? she asks as she reaches his side.

Making note of Aron's smirk (and deducing his disdain for his work), Raphael grins playfully and quips, "Of course, the greatest benefit of dabbling in trade is to sample the wares first. I believe I have a shipment of fine brandy from Secase coming in shortly. I'm told it's the best in Galatine."

I don't suppose I have any further insight into Alexander Ravenhall's reaction to Valentina by virture of destroying the DC? :)

Returning Alexander's handshake firmly, Raphael looks the man over another time, still frustrated that he can't identify him. Puzzled by his reaction to Valentina's 'cheery' greeting, Raphael merely listens to the conversation for a moment while thinking. He disdains her background perhaps? He does chime in add, "Madame d'Orsay is indeed a most impressive fortune teller. I'm not typically one to go for that sort of thing, but she's quite uncanny. Does the supernatural interest you greatly, Monsieur Ravenhall? You had mentioned that you'd engaged in a bit of debate on magic earlier..."

Halcyon asks the man what has gotten his attention. Closer now she picks up his traits: the man has long dark hair, and void-like dark eyes. He is rather slim, and his chestnut leather armor hardly hides it. Reflections of light from small plates of his silver-like gilded armor trickles over his face as he moves. He speaks with an alluring low voice, and while not overly handsome, has a sort of roguish charm. “Can you not see these beautiful relics?” He turns to meet her, and looks stunned for a moment, a wave of shame quickly passes through him. “Evidently not, my apologies. Vincent Durant.” He offers a slight bow, knives at his side jingle. He turns to one of the weapons on the wall, an ornate dagger, and removes it. He holds it with both hands, careful not to cut himself. “Um, allow me to try to illustrate it. Early first century, a ceremonial kris from denizens between Roland and Flamberge most likely. Slight waves to the steel are mesmerizing and the blade is engraved with images of charging warriors. The handle is a faded ivory, studded with small white pearls, probably from Roland’s bay. If only the sheath was here as well.” He places the blade back onto the wall, and tilts it slightly into place. "And you are?

Alistair notices the slight hesitation on Seth’s part, though he casts it aside with a smile. “Oh no need to be wary, when was the last time a witch hurt anyone?” He chuckles to himself, pushing black strands of his hair out of his face. He composes himself. “A man of steel! You hardly see warriors at parties anymore, unless you go to a Guard inaugurations.” He moves back towards the table with the others, refilling his glass with a swirl. “And they never invite me to those parties,” he adds in a sarcastic faux-bitter tone. “But how can a man as yourself have no stance on magic? Surely mercenary men like yourself thrive to wield enchanted steel?”

“I will have to see about passing by Monsieur Tamarin, I don’t usually frequent such establishments, but I may have to make an exception in your case.” He doesn’t sound too sincere, but it may just be how he talks. He seems to be more interested in business than a party-goer should. He rotates his head towards Raphael as he is passed the hookah once more. “An interest indeed. I have never met a seer with advice better than a well informed man. I myself am armed with enough information on most guests here to make some relevant fortune. I mean not discredit her, but I am afraid I remain skeptic. I find such diviners are more often blinded by their visions then enlightened.”

Raphael nods his agreement with the abrupt gentleman, "I dare see that all here should agree that one's wits and knowledge should be used to judge any claim. I'd encourage you to visit her if only for the experience. Halcyon is quite capable of putting on an entertaining show while telling her truths. Broadening one's horizons can only serve well, even if only to strengthen skills that you already possess." Raphael pauses a moment to consider the man. He's certainly not the life of the party, but he's got a head on his shoulders. I might like this man despite his orneriness.

"I'm afraid you might have me at a disadvantage, Monsieur Ravenhall. I'm sure you're aware that I'm a attorney of middling success. What forms of business do you engage in?"

it amuses me that you mentioned blindness for in the litterlal truth her inner eye has clouded her outer she can not see what is in front of her

"I do enjoy the touch and feel of a weapon infused with magic." Seth pauses for a moment. "There is such a joy of using a weapon so finely made and infused with power." Seth takes a seat, I can see why he might not be invited. "I don't have a stance on magic, because I haven't taken the time to learn what its legitimate and illegitimate uses might be. I can imagine a few in both categories, but I certainly can't profess to understand the full range of either. That would make for a rather unfair premise to base an opinion on. Imagine if someone with, say little understanding of warfare wished to restrict the manufacture of weapons, purely on the grounds that "weapons are dangerous," without considering the implications of disarmament. Such an action would have devastating repercussions if realized. It is not the place of the ignorant to take sides."

As Lucia walks into the Trophy room, she notices Halcyon enter the room. She goes to the first blade she can find and inspects it. After she takes a long look at the blade, a few minutes, she moves onto the next. The animals and trophies give her little interest. At times she moves of large portions of the room because of her dislike of the posed beasts.

Halcyon asks the man what has gotten his attention.... “Can you not see these beautiful relics?” He turns to meet her, and looks stunned for a moment, a wave of shame quickly passes through him. “Evidently not, my apologies. Vincent Durant.” He offers a slight bow, knives at his side jingle. He turns to one of the weapons on the wall, an ornate dagger, and removes it. He holds it with both hands, careful not to cut himself. “Um, allow me to try to illustrate it. Early first century, a ceremonial kris from denizens between Roland and Flamberge most likely. Slight waves to the steel are mesmerizing and the blade is engraved with images of charging warriors. The handle is a faded ivory, studded with small white pearls, probably from Roland’s bay. If only the sheath was here as well.” He places the blade back onto the wall, and tilts it slightly into place. "And you are?

Halcyon replies, I am Halcyon d'Orsay. Pleased to make your acquaintance after hearing so much about you. Thank you for describing the weapon. May I hold it?"

Once the weapon is in her hands, she touches the hilt, runs a finger gingerly along the dull edge. This dagger has tales to tell. Discovery these tales is my passion. Allow me a moment, s'il vous plait.

Halcyon holds the dagger so it rests on her open palms, breaths deeply and slips into a light trance.

She opens her mind to inspiration of her mystery and a flood of sensations surge from the dagger into her mind. After a scant ten heartbeats, she returns to her normal consciousness.

Vincent watches, grinning. “Let us hope I live up to my reputation. I would love to know more of this weapon Madame, please enlighten me.”

He smiles mildly at Marcus’ remark. “The curse of an oracle is nevertheless a burden. I would hope Madame d’Orcay utilizes her supposed skills to the best of her abilities to offset this.” Ravenhall doesn’t take a smoke as it is passed his way. “’Middling success’ is hardly a description for your most recent case. You have made the first legal dispute against magical regulation. My fortune for you is tread carefully. Over a thousand families were affected by the Crater that caused those laws to go into effect, and a mob of that size can topple any man in Roland. ” He pauses for a moment, pondering something. “I told myself I wouldn’t speak on regulation and yet here I am. Forgive me for speaking this long about others without speaking of myself. I primarily own ports and warehouses across Roland, though other small ventures often find their way into my hands.”

“Oi, a merc with a diplomat’s tongue. Never heard such elegant impartial words, ya might be the most well-informed uninformed man.” The dwarf laughs to himself, and grabs the little construct man on his shoulder, putting in into an ornate satchel. He tops off his ale. “Yer right on magical weapons though, no better feeling. Always feel a toucha’ sadness when I make a fine one, never quite wanna let em go.”

Bertrand nods and takes an appreciatory smell of the wine. “It is what gather the gold though. If I couldn’t create charming medallions and enchanting rings I doubt I would be at such a party.”

Alistair grins widely at Bertrand, his lips stained a slight red. “And I could have sworn it was your personality that brought you here.” Hawthorne and Stoneheart both laugh, ushering a quick and lighthearted “f!$# off” from Bertrand before joining them in laughter.

Seth joins in the laughter but he feels a bit out of place. These men and the dwarf have had their share of fun and must know each other a little bit. As the laughter subsides, Seth turns his attention to Ernest Stoneheart. "I would love to try one of your creations sometime. I don't believe I've had the pleasure of using a weapon made by you."

Halcyon's eyes at first glow with warmth before giving way to a sheen of tears, a few of which trickle down her cheeks until she emerges from her trance. After a few steadying breaths, she sighs and forces a smile for the enthusiastic young blade.

"Warriors such as yourself no doubt imagine a weapon such as this sings most proudly of the enemies it has vanquished. But not this blade. It was made with pride before Durendale existed and served as gift in honor of the next generation's coming of age. For many generations, it drew blood only when the son of the previous owner drew a small amount of his own blood, signifying he was now a man. It otherwise mostly served to peel an apple or skin a rabbit or carve an emblem of love into the bark of a tree. It did eventually slay enemies, but the people who had lived so peacefully were conquered and the blade was taken as spoils of victory, after which it has been naught but a trinket, a piece of fine jewelry bought and sold until coming to yet another owner who displays it as a sign of wealth, ignorant of its once proud service to the ancestors of the weapon's maker."

Halcyon hands the blade back to Vincent, so he can place it back in its holder. "Perhaps that was not the tale you were expecting, but I hope it enriches your appreciation of the relic of a bygone time."

"What other wonders does this room possess?" she asks, walking a bit past the spot where he was looking and somewhat toward the fungus queen. Then she pauses and leans closer to him and whispers, "Be quick, however, for I sense our host is seeking you and would ask of you an important favor."

Raphael nods modestly to Alexander, though he frowns slightly when the man mentions the Crater. Letting the frown fade, Raphael nods to the man and says, "It seems likely that my family's company has done business with you at some point in its past. I hope we might do so again. I'd be most interested in continuing this conversation, but it occurs to me that I haven't toured Monsieur de Beaux's exquisite home. If you'll forgive me."

Raphael excuses himself and proceeds to wander from the over-crowded smoke room into the cleaner air of the ballroom. Pausing a moment, Raphael considers the conversations he's just had. I'm unclear if that was a threat or not. Either way, he makes a good point. Perhaps my case will attract the wrong sort of attention. Breaking away from his thoughts, Raphael strolls lazily through Emile's home. Making his way upstairs, he considers the outdoor parlour for a moment before turning to his right and entering the first room.

Going into the Lounge Room I think.

it seems to me she does, and moreover she seems happy, and helps make others around her to be happy, which I find to be important

“Didn’t want to frighten Emile with flaming blades, ‘fraid I left them at the workplace. Usually asked to make constructs now, would love to make yer a blade sometime.” He fiddles through his bag, and pulls out a crinkled, off-white card and hands it to you. “Ernest Stoneheart, Headmaster of Magical Crafts” it reads. “Stop by the Society if ya need anything. I’ll give yer a discount if ya ever need a weapon or a ring.”

Francis Lyon leaves the room as Halcyon and Vincent begin to talk to one another while Lucia makes her way around the room, observing the weapons. “Our great nation has it’s roots conquest, even our most beautiful artifacts represent this. Only by remembering our history can we make a change.” He seems to be deep in thought after your speech, the room is largely silent as he thinks. “I thank you for your talents and this historical tale, it was a most wonderful pleasure. I will be sure to remember it. I will seek out Emile posthaste.” He walks out of the room, taking a passing glance at the preserved Fungus Queen. “A pity,” you hear him say as he leaves.

Back in the smoke room, Alexander takes another smoke. “We will have to keep in touch. Farewell Montefiore.” Raphael exits the room, leaving the room a bit more empty and a bit more cozy around the hookah space. Alexander addresses Marcus: "I am sure she if affected more by her predicament than she lets on, but if she appears happy, that is fine."

Raphael heads up the stairs of the foyer, entering the lounging room. Couches lay against the walls, and a servant plays a harp in the corner of the room. Paintings hang across the room, all strange fantasy interpretations of Durendal’s countryside. A table lies in the center of the room, with a pitcher of water and several glasses, as with remnant of the fifth course of dinner. A silver haired woman lies stretched out on one of the couches, passed out. Her hair draping to the floor and lies in a pool on the ground. In the center of the room are Emile and a brunette woman, both with a glass of wine. She is rather tall, and has long straight brunette hair and sharp eyebrows. A white dove pin lies on her chest. They are in the midst of a conversation.

“... would be mutually beneficial. Surely both of us would profit from such an engagement.” He stops his speech as he notices Raphael. “Oh yes, I had a Quest, how could I forget! Raphael this is the lovely Liberator Estelle Bellerose, Estelle this is Raphael Montefiore, lawyer extraordinaire. Now if you excuse me…,” He walks out of the room, leaving the two of you, the unconscious woman and the harp playing servant alone.

10:12 PM, 1 hours and 48 minutes until the New Year.

Francis Lyon leaves the room as Halcyon and Vincent begin to talk to one another while Lucia makes her way around the room, observing the weapons.

If Francis Lyon had left the room, Halcyon, would have been less cryptic with her final statement.

She would instead say, "Monsieur Durant, earlier this evening, I had a disturbing premonition that someone at tonight's party was in danger. I fear it may be one our Galatian guests. Such premonitions can be difficult to interpret properly, but our host, Emile, agreed that it might be prudent to ask you if you might keep a watchful eye on either Aron or Asfel. Would that distract you too much from the enjoyment of the evening? If so, forget I mentioned it. It's unthinkable that one of the invited guests would be capable of such a thing, so perhaps it was just a passing shadow that I misinterpreted."

He walks out of the room, taking a passing glance at the preserved Fungus Queen. “A pity,” you hear him say as he leaves.

Halcyon gravitates toward the fungus queen. She searches her memory for such a creature or person.

knowledge(Nature): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (17) + 8 = 25

She speaks aloud to the other occupant of the room, "Might I trouble you to describe what is in front of me? My vision is so weak. I am Halcyon d'Orsay."

Seth takes the card from Ernest. "I might take you up on that offer in the near future. Me and my men would love someone to supply some finely crafted weapons for us. I'm sure you would love an excuse to make some fine weapons again." Seth takes a sip of his ale and continues. "The only problem is my wife might not like me spending so much money on weapons, she would tell me to spend it somewhere else."

Marcus nods and politely excuses himself from room and walks out onto the balcony knocking on the door as he opens it, so as not to startle the guard by appearing unannounced "pardon the intrusion, but I do wish to convey a bit of a message to the two of you if I can"

Upon hearing Halcyon asking for her to describe the Fungus Queen, Lucia stops inspecting the sword in front of her and she approaches Halcyon. "It is no trouble at all, I am Lucia Varianna" Lucia takes a deep breath and gets over her dislike for what was in front her. She goes starts describing the Fungus Queen, starting with the full body and then describes the head in particular detail.

Raphael bows slightly to Emile as he leaves and says, "My apologies for interrupting your conversation, Emile - Madame. I was overcome with the itch to explore this magnificent home."

Turning to the woman, he approaches and offers her a bow. He mimics her quiet voice, not wanting to wake the sleeping woman, "It's my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Madame Bellerose. The commotion has thankfully died down and was a mere misunderstanding, despite the noise." He glances around the room, taking in the paintings for a moment before he continues, "It's actually quite the coincidence that I should meet the famous Liberator. I was actually just considering the horrid conditions in which the ratfolk live. I had hoped to see about finding a series of homes above ground where they might feel safe. If I can find the time -and funds- I should think the Montefiore Company would be happy to open a new warehouse nearby as well."

Raphael smiles disarmingly and asks, "Given your patriotic efforts in the past, I wonder if you might have some thoughts on my endeavors?"

The Following replaces Vincent Durant leaving the room/saying he will look for Emile.

Durant appears wide-eyed and shocked from hearing Halcyon's omen. A bit of color fades from his face, and he seems more serious now. “The situation seems rather grave, I will make myself familiar with one or the other and keep an eye on them throughout the night.” The man grabs a sheathed knife at his side, and conceals it in one of his wrist guards. “I will prepare for a counter-assassination, I’ll be looking. If you have further visions of how the death may come to be, please inform me.” He takes off one of his gloves, and places two rings on his fingers. From a small pocket in his outfit he takes out a small glass vial filled with a lavender liquid, and drinks the entirety of it. He offers a quick smirk that fades as he talks. “The man I guard will survive this night, I assure you.” He leaves the room with a shudder, passing out the staircase-side exit and out past the Fungus Queen. “A pity,” he lets out quietly as he passes it.

Upstairs in the Lounge room, Estelle begins to speak. Her voice is soft, and each time she moves it is accented by the jingle of a crude brass, wind-chime like necklace she wears. “Many consider the circumstances of those suffering around them, but few take action. Any measure to help those in need is appreciated.” She takes a sip of her wine, letting her eyes wander throughout the room before returning to Raphael. “Unfortunately, many Ratfolk do not feel safe in living above ground. While the gesture is most kind and appreciated, the discrimination and attitude towards their people must be changed. Perhaps if I hear of a suitable case of injustice against a Ratfolk I can send them to your offices?”

Marcus makes his way out of the smoke lounge, and goes outdoors towards the patio. Abigal and Eduard both lean on an ornate railing, a white outline from the moon and stars over their hair. Marcus knocks from indoors, and leaves the house and joins them on the patio. Eduard looks fine, no longer shaken and no longer having his hand on his weapon. Abigal’s eyes seem a tad red when she turns to greet you. “ Forgive us for this excursion away from the party, we are promptly to return. What is the message, mister…” she trails off for a second. “Apologies once more, in all this chaos I am afraid we haven’t been introduced. Abigal Bolton, nice to meet you, this is my Guardian Eduard.” Eduard nods warily, sizing you up for a moment before he seems to calm down.

As Marcus leaves the smoke lounge, another door from the opposite side opens. A blonde man with a sharp jawline joins into the room with Valentina, Nishara, Aron and Alexander. He closes the door behind him, and coughs into his sleeve as he makes his way towards the smoke table. His clothing is a metallic gold with, and blankets over most of his figure, with only his face and neck appearing bare. Through his clothes his weight in indiscernible, though his face appears gaunt. His golden eyes scan over the room at the other guests. “Pardon my sickness. Asfal Stormborn. Was the earlier noi--” he breaks into a cough once more before recuperating and continuing, “-the noise. Was it from here?”

"Not at all, my name is Marcus Tamarin, I run a local bar and inn, along with a number of other properties in town, in any case the message is a simple one, the oracle, a friend of mine by the name of Halcyon, she wanted you to know there was no hard feelings, that the time it would have taken to identify the spell she cast could have meant the difference between an interrupted spell, and a fireball to your charge's face, though this time she was simply casting a divination to discern the presence of poisons, she had a vision and had concerns that you might be at risk, so please be on your guard, be with people you trust, if possible when you leave have some extra guards be called in, take every precaution you can, but try not to be obvious about it, we don't want to tip off whoever it might be," he pauses to let this sink in before continuing "just a warning, as powerful as her gift is, she lacks significant experience in using it, and her visions are vague, it might not be tonight, and it is possible that just by telling you we have averted it, but in any event, be careful"

Lucia takes a deep breath and gets over her dislike for what was in front her. She goes starts describing the Fungus Queen, starting with the full body and then describes the head in particular detail.

As she starts describing the head, Halcyon interrupts, saying, "Thank you. I can tell this is distasteful. No need to go on. I have heard stories of these foul creatures. They appear as beautiful women, quite captivating--literally so--infecting men so they turn into mush-brained servants."

Halcyon gives a sly chuckle and sniffs the air. "An apt analogy of many marriages, no? A man sees a beautiful face or a well-turned figure and his brain turns to mush. Some men gain the upper hand, however, and instead turn their beautiful prize into a trophy to show off at parties. I hope your marriage to Monsieur Varianna has avoided both possibilities. By all accounts he is a good and respectable man."

"I'm sure you would be happy to know that our marriage so far has avoided both. When I first met him, I'm sure his brain was in a mush. Afterwards, he was just nice and sweet." Lucia takes a deep sigh relishing those old memories. "I would love to tell you how me and Seth met, and how we eventually were married. I haven't been able to tell those stories in a while."

Goldstool, I might be able to get an awww out of the party too. You know what story I am thinking of.

Raphael takes a seat, listening attentively to Estelle as she states her case. He nods thoughtfully in acknowledgement of her subtle critique of his plans. So there are certain safety concerns to be handled and certain public dialogue that must occur before anything can be done. This is a lesson to you, Raphael. Don't get ahead of yourself. Perhaps some means of making them more sympathetic... some stories of hardship shared publicly... Frowning thoughtfully, Raphael takes a moment to realize that he'd been asked a question. Coughing into his hand to hide his embarrassment, Raphael responds, "My apologies, Madame Bellerose, as I was considering the implications of what you'd said. I appreciate the insight into the plight of the Ratfolk. That people are so unaware of it is disgraceful. I would, of course, be happy to accept such a case. That said, their cause must also be argued in the much less civil court of public opinion. Tell me, Madame Bellerose, have you considered a periodical of some sort highlighting their struggles? Winning cases in the courtroom will certainly help, but the people of Roland must be won over. I should think, given opportunity and education, our Durendalan tendency towards civil justice must win through."

"I'm sure you would be happy to know that our marriage so far has avoided both. When I first met him, I'm sure his brain was in a mush. Afterwards, he was just nice and sweet." Lucia takes a deep sigh relishing those old memories. "I would love to tell you how me and Seth met, and how we eventually were married. I haven't been able to tell those stories in a while."

"I would love to hear all about it. Love stories are my favorite!" Halcyon sniffs the air again, frowning slightly. "However, let's get out of this stuffy room that smells of death and the spoils of conquest. I hear sounds of men drinking that way, so perhaps we can go a different way, away from the crowds. If possible, I'd like to talk with Emile's sister Carolyn, if she is here. He said she too is an oracle."

Halcyon keeps her staff in one hand and offers her other arm so Lucia can link with it and guide her in futher exploring the manor.