"A juggler and a singer? And you both want to keep the grounds?" Chana almost starts to scoff at the strangeness of their stories, but manages to control herself in the chance that the two are some kind of important nobles. "We're not exactly overflowing with money right now, so I'm not sure we'll be able to finance anyone. But uh, welcome regardless, Mister Dro'gan."
Chana picks up the letter, for a moment a little confused why Olivia handed it to her, before remembering the game at work. She begins opening it as she asks Bartolo "What's going on in Oppara anyway? How could it not be welcoming to someone like, uh, you, Mister Talbot? Has anything changed back there?"
She starts reading the letter as well, and its obvious to everyone that she's not exactly a speedy reader .
To the Ladies Betony and their coterie,
I will keep this letter brief, lest unwanted eyes browse these words.
Your patron's patron has allies behind the scenes that even they may not recognize.
To that end, I send my agent not just to deliver this message but to aid your endeavors on behalf of the proper heir to the Primogen Crown.
If you need clarification of who we represent, ask my agent about his "rules."
-Nydia
In order to maintain his control over Meratt, the count desires to maintain control over his vassals - including the newly arrived Betonys. However, rather than cracking the whip or applying the thumb screws, he hopes to win over the Betonys with his friendly charm. In short, he aims to ensure your loyalty.
The family's patriarch is Duke Georgi Backus Talbot II, who rules a dukedom along the Sellen River north of Cassomir. Duke Talbot is a political figure cut of two cloths: one a trade magnate, the other a senator in the Taldan empire. The Talbot family was rocked by scandal when the duke's son, Howell Backus Talbot III, joined the church of Abadar and took on the life of an adventurer under the church's aegis.
Thus, the only members of the family who remain in the duke's good graces are those who further the family's trade empire. Even then, the duke distrusts making close connections with anyone - whether family or friend - unless they prove themselves a trustworthy business asset.
More recently, Duke Talbot was present at the Exaltation Gala and survived the massacre. Since then, he has retreated from the Opparan social scene and returned to his manor in Cassomir.
Chana looks over the letter slowly before handing it to Amandine and Olivia. While the letter was obviously written with extreme caution. Nydia was a paranoid person, but maybe had good reason to be. Chana speaks up while the other two read. "So who wants to tell me about their rules? Because it seems like you're not here to tidy up and earn a bit of coin."
"I reckon you're here for a different reason entirely. And there's no reason not to share among friends."
Amandine dallies in getting out of the carriage, fussing around with collecting her and Calix's baggage and packing it away before moving. All the while she listens in on the talk between the two men and Chana and Lidia. She wants to put together an idea of what the two men are about before she has to say anything about their presence one way or another.
She's not happy they're at the manor to begin with. Amandine had been looking forward to being able to relax some after the grueling days at the Tanager Jubilee, but unfamiliar visitors will ruin the chance.
Her personal feelings aside, there are a couple of things about the men's accounts of themselves that seem off to her. The man claiming to be a Talbot while also asking for menial work is quite outside her experience with people of his purported standing. So much so that she doesn't reckon him a particular threat, but more likely a common grifter who happens to know of a name that would impress bumpkins. Some rival party's agent wouldn't wouldn't make such a basic mistake if he were of any quality, and Amandine is sure they can handle some conman.
The other one is more difficult because he says so little of interest about himself. He claims to be exactly the kind of person one would be expect to be standing where he is right now. He is therefore either who he says or the cannier liar and riskier one to have around. By the time she has Calix and herself out of the carriage, Amandine has decided on a course.
"Good day to both you gentlemen. My cousin and I appreciate your offer, but we are newly arrived and have not yet assessed the property or made an accounting of its finances. Until those things are done, we cannot consider taking on staff."
"We would not see you sleeping rough at the end of the day though. Please accept our hospitality and remain here until you can make an earlier start on your journey tomorrow. I apologize in advance for the simple comforts we offer, but we have had only one night here ourselves so far. The Tanager Jubilee has kept us away the past two days and nights. We are not yet ourselves settled here."
"We can offer a dry shelter, a bed, and a good meal to you though. The manor will be more comfortable than the forest or the side of the road."
Amandine's tone is polite but firm, conveying the impression it would be a bad idea to press any requests for employment or a longer stay.
"I assure you, a simple bed for the night and a light meal is all my new friend and I need in return for bringing the letter. As I said I've already been paid in advance for delivering it, and my friend here had no idea about it."
He waves at the minstrel.
"Part of my letter delivering rules was to NOT reveal I carried the letter, and only to deliver it to those living here at this place. They said nothing about letting anyone know I was delivering it while I did it, although that's just a technicality.'Rule #8 Technicality is king except in Lion's work.' I'm sure we two 'handsome fellows' will find work beyond your walls tomorrow."
Furthermore, you sense no malice from them. You'd even call it impossible that they work for anyone in the county. They are newcomers, just like you and your companions.
Bartolo lets out a thunderous laugh at Chana's question. "Tend the grounds, myself? Hah, Lady Betony, you're a character." The follow-up question leads him to ponderously rub his knuckles. Spreads his arms to the sides, as if feigning innocence, he adds a moment later, with a grin. "I've nothing to hide, but it's not a particularly interesting story. I'll keep it nice and brief.", he says. "I was formally invited by my father to join him at the Exaltation Gala, so, naturally I decided to go for a drink instead.", he adds. "A few hours later, I was in a particularly political mood, and I was discussing the utter idiocy that is the High Strategos' idea of a military conquest. I believe the words I used were,", he taps his lips, "'I've heard many idiots saying many idiocies, but going on a conquest for old glory's sake is the single dumbest idea in the history of Taldor."
He shrugs. "Unfortunately, I was rather loud and two individuals overheard my arguments, and decided to aggressively disagree by naming me a traitor, a coward and spineless bastard." Bartolo's grin widens. "I decided to dispute those accusations, and I left them rather speechless with my retort.", he points to a dent on his lute, looking suspiciously like a bitemark, "however, my drinking companion revealed them to be low-ranking officers of the Phalanx, and suggested the air in Meratt is excellent for the health." He sighs, shaking his head. "And, given what word I picked up regarding the Gala, I'm not planning on going back any time soon."
His eyes catching those of the swordwoman, he studies her face for a moment, before grinning knowingly. I'll bet, gnats to gold, that that right there's Vernisant's firstborn daughter. The one who ran away to be a knight. Looks close enough to him. "Can you imagine that, doing what your family expects of you?", he nods.
At Amandine's scrutinous gaze, Bartolo bites his lips. A veiled woman, her elven blooded cousin, with a nobleborn bodyguard higher in society than the noble family they purport to be. Add mysterious messengers with mysterious letters. There's a hand all the way to the wrist in some pie. The courtier smile disappears from Bartolo's face, as the nobleman locks his fingers together. "Thank you for the offer, madam.", he adds in a much more businesslike tone. "To be blunt, however. I could gladly take your offer, depart at dawn and keep all I've learned hidden until I die. This I swear, and it won't change." Exhaling loudly, he turns to the Betony estate. "For instance, the fact that you're claiming to be just arriving at an aging estate, yet you claim to lack the funds to restore. Or that I'm fairly certain that the only noble I've seen so far is assuredly not a Betony." He pauses. And here's hoping that they don't choose to attack. Four to one is rather unlikeable odds. A moment later, he adds. "The minor nobles in here may not pick up on that as quickly as I did, but eventually, they might."
Exhaling loudly, Bartolo crosses his arms. "I'd like to get some gold in my pocket and some connections in my books. From what I gathered, Merratt is currently being sucked dry in taxes, and I'd hate to restore the region only to have my money be funneled into some idiot's pocket. This could be my blood talking, but from where I'm standing, you'll profit off having a loud noble around, and I'll profit off not having to search for another place to start my organisation in." His smile grows smug once again. "And if you find a better accountant than I in Merratt, I'll eat my hat."
Extending his massive palm at the half-elf, he stares her right in the eyes. "Shall we strike a deal?"
Amandine's face clouds, and she certainly doesn't take the man's hand.
"Are you asking in some round about way to see our papers? Shall we take those papers and all go see Count Lotheed to render a judgement on your dispute of our claim to the Betony estate?"
Amandine's voice betrays bafflement at the man's unimaginable gall.
"Since you're new here I'll let go of some local news to help you out. We have friends here. You. Don't."
"I figured you for a huckster, and within minutes you're trying to blackmail us. I read people well enough on first impression I suppose."
Amandine points at the juggler Dro'gan. "You may stay."
Then she points at Bartolo. "You, take your nag and go. Now."
Bartolo raises his eyebrows. "Bloody Aroden's rotting carcass! I swore that I'll keep whatever I found bloody secret, and I'll keep it a bloody secret regardless of your accusations." He snaps back. "And I don't need to see any documents any more than anyone else suspecting you would. Papers! What do you take me for, a taxman?"
Putting his fingers in his mouth, he lets out a whistle, and his horse joins him. "If I was to blackmail someone, I wouldn't go alone, disarm myself in front of them and tell them about it in person, would I?" Donning his cap, he mounts the tired horse.
Dro'gan sighs heavily and dramatically, then lightly places a hand upon Bartolo's shoulder.
"Ladies! Ladies! Sir Blacksheep! PLEASE calm yourselves. I've seen mud covered Chelaxian slaves with better decorum. You all need to understand something: He's too HONEST. Not that he can't lie, but that he...feels no need to do so. While I might not trust this man to darn my stockings, I would trust him at my back in a dark alley anytime. I...vouch-safe for him tonight, for what that is worth, and will accept any punishment he brings down upon himself upon me and mine too. Satisfied? I think the letter I brought gives me some room to talk, if not the pedigree of the rest of you. Now...someone said somthing about a warm bed and some small bits of food? Oh yes...it was me! Shall we?"
He then bows and offers his arm to the wonderfully patient (and mostly quiet) Lady Vernisant.
"What a lovely sword M'Lady! Is it an antique? Tell me about this wonderful home of yours..."
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Olivia's patience is running thin, but she lets Dro'gan speak until he tries to change the subject. "We don't need to be enemies here. Lord Talbot, if you hate to see the high strategos on the throne, dismount your horse. Everyone go inside. I'm sick of this cloak and dagger. We're going to talk overtly, and with respect. Inside now."
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Smiling easily, Dro'gan quickly divests himslef his cloak and his iron dagger, wraps them together, then tosses them into the deep bushes. Swiftly turning with a great bow...
"As M'Lady commands."
Then strides forward to open the door (assuming it is unlocked) so that he can hold it open like a gentleman for the others.
Lion's Rule #6: If you have nothing else...hit them in the funny bone.
Chana guffaws at Dro'gan's antics and heads on into the manor. If there's need to subdue these two, she figures they'll have just the same chances to do so indoors as well as out. And if they're really allies, then the conversation might as well happen inside and away from listening ears.
----
Chana turns to Dro'gan first, letting Bartolo and Amandine cool down a little. "So you found us and delivered the letter. I'm not sure who your friend who wrote it is, but if we're to believe what's written inside, you're here to help us. Now I'm not going to say no to a bit of help. But what we're doing is dangerous and would make us enemies of a whole gutter-slop's worth of nobles." She pauses, realizing that that probably wasn't the best choice of words. She carries on anyway "So it'd be nice to know what YOU think you're getting yourself into first. Oh and, what do you think of the High Strategos? And what do you think of Princess Eutropia?"
She looks over at Bartolo "As for you taxman, we're in need of proper allies, not some fast talkin' greasers. If you're just here to line your pockets and keep away from heat in Oppara, you've come to the wrong place. We're not planning on making a fortune for ourselves. More the opposite." She looks out the window "Right now the folks out there are sufferin'. Bled dry by nobles that don't care about them."
Just as he's about to depart, the words from Lady Olivia's mouth make him pause, and his eyes stare in the distance for a moment. He grunts out an unintegligible groan, then dismounts. "That... changes things.", he adds, nodding his head to join the others inside.
Once inside, the man's eyes mostly flicker quietly from face to face. Not crooks or people clever enough to buy a pedigree. Spies. As the veiled woman turns to him, he listens quietly, before answering. "Bah! Line my pockets and stay safe? If that was my goal, I'd still be eating off my father's hand!"
He sighs. "I came here, well, because it's close to Oppara. But also, because it was once a land of rich resources, brilliant craftsmen and bustling trade. Now, it's slowly rotting, with the farmers and merchants unable to afford the tools to do their bloody jobs, with the taxmen scalping them not to pay for roads, bridges and guards, but to line the Count's pocket!", he shares spitefully, before nodding at Chara's remark about the nobles. "That's exactly what I overheard at the Beggarwood, and exactly why I chose to come to you to offer my skills, rather than the Count." Unable to fight back a laugh, he nods enthusiastically, leaning back onto his chair.
"My first thought was that you were a trio of local commoners, choosing to better their home by claiming receivership of the Betony estate.", he relays. "And I wanted to warn you about the dangers of pretending to be a noble, which...", he laughs out. "Backfired spectacularly." He breathes out heavily. Espionage, cloaks and daggers and conspiracies. Wasn't what I expected in this backwater, but...
He leans forwards once more. "If you're planning on doing something about Merrat and Taldor, I'm behind you, coin and blade."
Dro'gan grimaces when directly confronted by the ladies of the house, and rubs the back of his neck in an annoying habit he managed to start years ago and can't get rid of. Once Bartolo was finished with his rant...he started.
Bold-face truth? No lies? Ugg. He hated that. It always tastes like wilted mint in his mouth.
"You ask direct questions Lady Chana. Under the current circumstances...I will attempt to be completely honest. I will admit such things are not normally in my wheel-house."
To distract himself from fabricating any lies, he pulls out 3 wooden juggling balls and begins some simple non-threatening juggling exercises.
"Since I have no idea what the letter I gave you said, I will start at the beginning per se: My name is Dro'gan Mpak-ten and I was born in the seedy side of Oppara and ended up an orphan. The handler who found me used to call me 'Drogan Manyfaces.' I am a trained Juggler/Busker/Conman/Spy...who is also loyal man of Taldor. I have spent the last several years in Cheliax hunting the ones who murdered most of my fellows at the secret Lion Blade's training center where I once lived. I had several leads finally, but no real success, and then recently I heard a rumor of big troubles back here in Taldor. I rushed back as soon as I could, and contacted an old friend in the Blades. They quickly pressed me to service and sent me here, despite the fact I never had the chance to take my oath of service to the Blades. As far as the princess is concerned? If she is what is best for the country, and it appears she is, then I support her and any effort she has to keep the peace and Taldor secure from its enemies. Does that satisfy?".
He finishes his juggling with little flourish and bows only slightly, looking at all the others expectantly.
"So basically I am at your service if you need me. If not...I have a country to save from itself and will be out of your lovely hair by tomorrow"
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"Amandine, could you please do a magic sweep? Thank you." Olivia says.
"Thank you for your honesty. Now it is our turn."
"I am Lady Olivia Vernisant of Oppara. I am currently going by the alias Lidia Espinosa while in Merrat. I am a survivor of the Gala massacre, and a holy warrior blessed with powers by the Inheritor. I am working on behalf of Princess Eutropia, who has made me an honorary knight in her service. Amandine and Chana have experienced the same fate, and have now been elevated to the position of Betony heirs with the permission of the princess. Our objective is to usurp control of Merrat in as peaceful a process as possible, and gain the support of both noble and commoner alike in the princess' favour, while weakening the influence of the high strategos. You both have value to our efforts, and I strongly request that you join our cause. There will be little in profit, little in prestige, and plenty of times where you will have to swallow your pride or risk your life, but you will be making Taldor a better place for the abused and the destitute. Will you serve?"
With a smile Dro'gan winks at Amandine.
He then turns to Lady Vernisant.
"You three are obviously smarter than your appearance allows for! I like you already. I can't speak for Sir Blacksheep, but you had me at 'swallow your pride.' Good speech by the way! You have talent. I could show you some pointers..."
'
He suddenly waves at the air as if dismissing a bad smell.
"Lion's Rule #9: Never let pride rule you or fool you: Otherwise you end up the fool...or dead."
Chana watches the two newcomers intently for any signs that they aren't being entirely truthful.
Satisfied with their answers, she speaks after Olivia. "Chiara Durante, but you're welcome to just call me Chana. Also currently Chiara Betony. As Olivia said, we're working on the behalf of a close friend of Princess Eutropia. Though in my case I'm no knight. And this..." She raises an arm and a sleek rat scurries out of the vest underneath her dress, up her sleeve, and out onto the back of her hand. "This is Snips." She adds no other details as Snips scurries back into her garb.
"I'm not sure that we're here to usurp control. But, if we can make things better for everyone that way... maybe we are." She looks over at Amandine. "What do you think?"
Taking the lead before Bartolo can respond, Dro'gan nods and rubs his chin as if he seems knowledgeable.
"'Better for everyone' unfortunately is based on perspective. I know plenty of gutter-rats...no pun intended Mr. Snips...who grew up believing the nobility always get the better of them regardless of the situation, and some nobles who feel commoners are less than trash and should be grateful to live in such a wonderful place that is golden Taldor!"
He shrugs and throws both hands out to emphasize the conundrum. Then dramatically Dro'gan turns and points at Bartolo.
"All we can do is but try. What say you Bartolo the Troubadour? Are you game for a chance to save the country and its princess, and maybe throw a little revolution into the gears? Wine...women...dancing...the occasional assassination? At minimum we know of some local bandits who need slaying! Who could resist good Sir! Yes or no?"
Busker Stunts (Su)
*A busker can engage in brisk conversation that seems innocuous, but actually encourages creatures to reveal secrets to the busker. Each round while maintaining this stunt, the busker can force one creature within 30 feet that is able to see and hear the busker and has an attitude of indifferent or better towards him to attempt a Will save (DC = 10 + 1/2 the busker’s bard level + the busker’s Charisma modifier). On a failed save, the target must answer one yes/no question the busker asks to the best of its ability. Anyone observing this (including the creature asked, even if it succeeds at its save) must succeed at a Sense Motive check (opposed by the busker’s Bluff check) to realize the question was asked or answered. A target that feels threatened or is in combat is immune to this ability. This is a language-dependent, mind-affecting enchantment effect.
Gods! I love Rule#3! Never pass up volunteering someone else to go with you or do something for you.
Amandine is not at all happy with Olivia's solution to a problem she considered solved. 'Cloak and dagger', as Olivia dismisses circumspection and concern for security, saves lives. As Amandine sees it there is a progression that should be respected and adhered to: acquaintance, friend, admirer, confidant, co-conspirator.
The progression tests each point to ensure it is sound before moving on to the next. It is possible to stop the progression and go no farther if issues of trust, character, ability, or so forth come to light. Not everyone one knows, or considers a friend, needs to know everything. Skipping steps in the progression will at some point cause a tragedy.
But the things Olivia, and then Chana have said can't now be unsaid. The two men must be be completely trustworthy and likeminded or the only remaining solution will be to kill them. This is why 'cloak and dagger' saves lives.
Amandine doesn't say much about herself in the conversation inside. She sees no reason to to go into her personal background, and there isn't much she wants to add to what Olivia and Chana say. She is too irked to be amused by the juggler, and judges the Talbot to be unfit for anything requiring much subtlety.
She spends her time not speaking concentrating on locating any magical auras on the two men as Olivia requested.
Since a couple of Lion Blades references have been made in relation to the juggler, Amadine also thinks on what she's read about the organization. She imagines herself back in Malaprop's bookstore. Second floor, right side from the stairs and down four rows. Left side almost at the end by the window. Six shelves up, almost out of reach without a ladder. Two books side by side. One black leather bound and the other faded maroon leather with gold inlay tooled into the front cover...
Toward the end of the talking Amandine decides something concrete should be laid out to see whether either of the men are willing to do more than talk, and what their tolerance for risk might be.
"If both of you gentlemen are eager to aid us, we have a chore that must be attended to as soon as possible. We have a manticore to hunt down and kill. Are you game?"
"Oh that's right. Nice idea Amandine. They're not likely to be much use if they can't also fight. We've got an Iron Lash to teach a lesson." Chana nods.
Hearing Olivia's words once again, Bartolo nods enthusiastically alongside her words. "Ah! The Princess! Yes, that would make sense...", he clears his throat, letting the knight finish her speech. "I've always followed Her Royal Highness' political antics with great interest. Much better than the anemic existance of her peers, that's for sure!", he harrumphs as she's finished. "I'm a Talbot, first and foremost - if Taldor needs my help, I'll answer, Lady Espinosa. And, Aroden damnit, I'd much rather be helping than sitting around on my hands."
Eye open wide as the rat scuttles out of Chana's dress, Bartolo lets out a laugh. "It's a pleasure to meet you both, then. I can't say I've heard the finest things about Count Lotheed, though bloodshed does leave a bad taste in my mouth." His head tilting at the jester at his side, he slaps a heavy hand on his shoulder. "I can't say I've been a part of a revolution so far, my friend, so count me in!"
Leaning back, he clears his throat, only for the stern-faced woman to interrupt their conversation. "Was chasing the beast you as well? You're undoubtedly the most interesting thing that's happened in Merrat in the past century." He claps his hands approvingly, cracking his knuckles as he stands up. "It's a good thing my horse is still saddled, madam, I'm ready when you say.", he smirks.
Disappointed at Bartolo's ability to ignore Dro'gan's question, he quickly pulls himself together and grimaces at the mention of a manticore.
"Hunting monsters is not normally something I would try to handle, but if you need 'proof' of my capabilities then I guess I have little choice in the matter."
He then waves slightly at the door going back outside.
"Lead the way! I think Bartolo and I will help however we can. As far as blending in, I find the invisibility of servitude to help with such things. Simply claim me as a butler or manservant, and watch as I disappear from view!"
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"As much as I'd rather not jump right back into that carriage, it would be for the best. I think just a moment to unpack anything unnecessary and to armour up, and then we should be ready."
Olivia seems pleased that her idea is working.
"How are you with a blade, Dro'gan? You could be a squire. That would help explain the armour."
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Sighing, Dro'gan pulls a long peasant sleeve up to show his black-painted near-magical mythril-silver chain shirt hidden underneath.
"I prefer to keep my armor close and hidden M'Lady. Having been dealing with Devil lovers lately, I find it excellent protection for my sort of fighting. But since you insist on knowing my secrets now..."
Dro'gan suddenly taps his Brass Lion belt-buckle and the item uncoils like some sort of living snake from his waist, wraps around his hand, and 'changes' quickly becoming a heavy curved sword called a Falcata. The brass hand-guard seems to have a Lion's head etched into it.
"This belt is my main weapon, but remains a belt most of the time so as not to worry anyone. I have other, more mundane weapons...and some basic combat magic as well. I'm not useless in a fight. I prefer stealth and planned action however, to sudden unthinking combat. Basically, I hate surprises."
Looking over at Bartolo's hammer, Dro'gan smiles slightly, and returns the weapon into its belt form.
"I tend to agree with the idea that bigger in combat...among other things...is not always better. Don't you agree Lady Vernisant?"
"Oh, I like that" Chana points at the magic transforming belt. "I know a few people who'd kill for a weapon you could hide that well."
Bartolo laughs out, shouldering his earthbreaker. "I, in fact, completely agree, my friend. It's all in the wrist.", he says with a wink. "A fair few people are rather at ease when they see an opponent willingly disarming themselves. As the hammer's previous owner discovered." He lets the hammer rest on the ground. "Though, my experience in, hrm, the livelier parts of Taldor has taught me the value of improvisation."
He crosses his arms. "While I'm want to call myself worthy of the bardic colleges in Taldor, I've learned a few secrets over one or dozen cups of wine." Twirling his fingers in the air, and singing out a few phrases in ancient Taldan, a counterbass appears in his hand, body rested on the ground. "This, amongst its other uses, excels when you direly need to be a percussionist." Playfully giving out a quick strum on the deep-toned instrument, he closes his eyes and it disappears. Hand resting on the hammer once more, he shrugs. "My Shoanti souvenir is purely when direct force is necessary, and I have to give the people credit where credit's due, for that purpose there's no finer weapon."
This already-enigmatic organization's current status since the Exaltation Massacre has been a mystery. Although a number of their agents were present at the Gala and helped fight off the legion of assassins, no one is sure how they are involving themselves in the present succession crisis. It seems likely that this War for the Crown may have divided the Lion Blades into factions much like the rest of Taldor.
Aside from hunting the Iron Lash, the only other item on your calendar is a tea date at the Crabbe Estate in one week's time. The bright, midday sunlight freely streams in through the impeccably clean window panes.
As you discuss unpacking and unwinding from the social escapades, Amandine's eyes stray to the foyer windows that look out upon the garden porch. Something curious catches her attention. Investigating closer, she finds that the women's luggage - previously left in their selected rooms - has been haphazardly heaped out in the back garden.
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"That is a very impressive magical device, though I hope you have another belt to hold up your breeches when in a fight." Olivia retorts
"Amandine is correct. It would be best if we stay the night here before setting out on the hunt in the morning. If we leave now, we'll be hunting in the dark. Let's get you someplace to sleep, and we'll figure out something for food."
"Ah-HA! Yet again my powers of deduction continue to impress! A bit of food and a simple place to sleep! Try not to be impressed too much of course..."
He then looks over his shoulder, then turns and runs outside the door everyone had come in with a light step. After a minute he is back, his dagger in his sheath on his waist 'belt' and he is picking leaves out of his ragged cloak.
"Sorry, I almost forgot: It's old, but it is still a decent cloak. I would hate to lose it to the crickets. I could almost hear them chomping on them from in here!"
"Hmm? What's going on Amandine?" Chana looks in the direction Amandine is looking. "Why's our things all outside in the dirt?" She pauses, listening in to hear if there are any other guests already inside the Estate.
"Ah. Do you think the cat-like thing inside the room in the basement might be behind it? Anything that's been livin' 'ere for a while without anyone bothering it might get bent if suddenly there's a whole lot of guests." She heads over to check the crack leading into the basement to see if she hears anything coming from there specifically.
Dro'gan stops and turns to Lady Chiara with all seriousness.
"Cat-thing? Is it a cat or not? Has Snips the Great not investigated? I would think any cat would be afraid of the Mighty Snips!"
When Dro'gan says 'I hate surprises' Amandine has finally heard something she really likes from the men. She also hates surprises.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
So she hates it when she sees what's been done with their baggage.
"I think you're right Chana. We have something here. We best take another look at that basement."
To Dro'gan and Bartolo she remarks "It an old place, and old places rarely come without some problems... We just don't know what this one is quite yet."
"Cat-thing? Is it a cat or not? Has Snips the Great not investigated? I would think any cat would be afraid of the Mighty Snips!"
Chana bristles at Dro'gan's comments "It's a cat thing. You're welcome to be the first to take a look."
Overplaying it, Dro'gan gasps aloud!
"NO! Say it isn't so! Snips? Afraid of a mere cat!?"
He pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head wearily.
"Ah...Snips. Would that your courage be as strong as your matron's bosom!"
He then looks at the 'crack' the cat is supposedly hiding in.
Bartolo scratches his beard at the mention of the uninvited guest. "Ah. So there is some credit to the rumours of a ghost inhabiting the Betony manor. If there was someone moving in a house I decided to inhabit after my demise, I'd start by politely asking them to leave first, too.", he smirks. "I suppose it'd be only fair if we went to take a look." Shouldering his hammer, he follows Dro'gan's tracking efforts. "In case the problem is more of the nail variety."
While Dro'gan is looking into the crack, Chana quietly taps her vest and then points at the smug bard. Snips gets the idea.
The little rat scurries silently out of her armor. The little rat skitters across the floor, and as Snips gets close, he leaps for the smug bard's behind. One light bite later and he makes himself scarce.
Feeling, but not seeing or hearing his attacker, Dro'gan looks around suspiciously rubbing his now sore rump dramatically.
"I feel there could be a presence here...or possibly just a rodent infestation."
He then stands in the corner, facing outwards staring at Chiara with eyebrows raised. Dro'gan seems willing to play along with the group for a bit a fun, and evidently very little ego to bruise.
Chana grins behind her veil. "Could be."
When Dro'gan and Bartolo arrived at the estate, and as they waited for the Betony party's return, they did not observe anyone else moving about the grounds or within the manor itself.
Upon discovering the ousted luggage, Chana's ears cannot pick out the sounds of anyone else moving around the manor - at least not on the first or second floors. Of course, the voices and breathing of her companions make it difficult to discern fainter sounds.
However, she notices a cat sitting in the garden, glaring at her from afar. However, this does not resemble the brown cat from before. Instead, this is a coal-colored cat with especially long fur. However, it runs off as soon as it notices your eyes upon it.
Venturing back into the cellar, the party once again examines the hidden door tucked behind the casks and chests down there. Although the door bears no handle or latch, Chana and Dro'gan discover something that was overlooked before.
One of the flagstones at the foot of the doorjamb sits loose, and you suspect it could be stepped upon like some manner of latch or pressure plate.
Grinning ear to ear, Dro'gan looks at Chana.
"May I? I have a little flair for the dramatic sometimes. Makes me feel more alive I guess."
He then steps on the stone pressure plate, if no argument is given.
"Well now. Let's see what this does. Shall we?"