"That depends, Myriana, on what we need it for," Desseer responds thoughtfully. "It is not what I was envisioning when I heard 'townhouse' but it does appear to have a basement. They make for great laboratories. Many opportunities." Desseer opens the front door and looks inside.
A layer of dust blankets every surface of this abode. The hallway ends in two doors and a staircase up on the right. The hallway opens to what looks like a living room through a doorless doorway to left soon after entering. The doors at the end of the hallway lead in different directions, one continuing in the direction of the hallway and another on the left wall right before the hallway's end.
The floors creak beneath the crew's footsteps and the creaks add together as they roam to cause what seems like a cacophony in the silence.
The previous owners of this house were of middle income judging by the quality of the furnishings that remain. The door in the living room lead back into a kitchen and beyond that a pantry/storage room. The food has clearly spoiled and causes the room to be musty and acrid, though the smell isn't overwhelming. The kitchen and storage room also have doors that open into the hallway at the base of the stairs.
Walking up the stairs, unsurprisingly, leads to more cacophonous creaking that is clearly magnified by hollow spaces under the stairs. The stairs lead up to another hallway with only two doors, spread far apart. The two rooms were clearly bedrooms for parents and the the other, seemingly one child.
As they entered the dusty old place Myriana couldn't help but sneeze after inhaling a snoot full of dust that was disturbed by their tread. Glaring at the dust she spoke a few words of magic and gestured creating a tiny whirlwind that spun its way to lead them, and it began to suck in the dust from the path they were following. When they reached a place to stop and look the whirlwind started sucking up the dust in the room and dropping it in one corner, doing so to each room they entered.
Myriana's ears twitched every so often as she looked around the place and said, "It does not look like much nya, but it has space at least nya."
"Hmmm...Yes," Desseer agrees ponderously. "I can think of a few uses as backup plans or a safe house." He looks to Myriana, "We should definitely look into the paperwork and history of these places, but if want a space for just yourself and Iris, let me know." He gives her a warm smile, "I know I..well..yeah. I'm sure it sounds silly, but I feel a level of responsibility for you all. I always did back when this was just a game." He pauses for a few moments before continuing, "But now, this is serious. We are here. We are in the game. And, as the guild leader...whatever that means now...I just..I want to do right by you all." He lowers his head awkwardly, uncomfortable with his expressed vulnerability.
A little embarrassed, Desseer makes his way to the stairs down to the basement.
The basement, like the upper floors, was covered in dust. The previous owners seemed to use this large room for more storage as mostly empty shelves lined the walls.
She whispers to Myrianna, "I uh... you should go check on him!"
"Alright John, let's see that estate."
Myriana's ear twitched as Iris breathe passed over the fur with her whispered words and then nodded once as she followed Deseer downstairs. "It's not your fault Deseer-san nya, nothing you did brought us here right nya?"
The felinoid woman grabbed hold of Deseer's arm and sandwiched it between her bosom as she began to rub the side of her head against him purring, "You will do well nya Deseer-san"
After a bit more exploration it seemed it was time to go to their next destination.
Desseer is a bit taken aback by Myriana's physical affection and is left speechless for several moments.
He's been so focused on plans on plans in plans that he had spent very little time being reflective of what he was experiencing. Most of the time, there were subtle differences. He would certainly endeavor to take care of his friends and loved ones, but the difference was what he was willing to do. It didn't bother him that he might have to kill someone or, with his power, remove their agency. Hell, even considering that, he preferred to avoid it, but not due to some moral compulsion, instead because it might cause more issues long term. It seemed that his empathy was diminishing. He was beginning to look at other people as means to an end, objects in an obstacle course. His character build did require an evil alignment. Was that affecting him?
And then, there was Myriana's physical affection. Sanders was certainly not opposed to such things, but there was something else there. A hunger. A near on compulsion to ravish her. Yet again, his build used an incubus fiend template. Was that having an affect on his thoughts? Was Sanders becoming Desseer? Or was it something in the middle? The two were ingredients in a pot and just being melted together. The end result was some halfway point between the two?
Desseer closes his eyes and took a few breaths to collect himself. "Thanks Myriana," he says between measured breaths. He then opens his eyes and raises his head to look at Myriana with a smile. "Don't worry, ganbarimas!"
She hugs on them both. Her words come out quickly, "Many of the things you say doesn't make sense but thank you for accepting and loving me."
He whispers in Desseer's ear, "Can I break character with him?"
Desseer twitches slightly having forgotten the Sly's presence. "Oh, uhh..yes. He is a servant of mine."
He spreads his white wings and grabs ahold of John's shoulderpads and lifts off.
Nestled inconspicuously among the elegant avenues of a wealthy district, the manor house sits behind a modest iron gate, its stone façade softened by ivy and time. Unlike the neighboring homes with their manicured gardens and ostentatious facades, this manor wears a subtle elegance—its gray slate roof slightly uneven, windows framed with weathered wood, and shutters half-drawn as if in a long, patient slumber.
Though the street whispers of wealth, the manor doesn’t flaunt it. Instead, it exudes an old, quiet confidence—tall and narrow, built from pale, lichen-dusted stone, with a small brass plaque bearing only a single letter, almost worn smooth. The hedges have grown wild but not unruly, curling protectively around the house as though preserving its secrets. A small fountain in the front courtyard lies dry, its basin filled with leaves and a scattering of feathers, untouched by footsteps for years.
At night, it’s easy to forget it’s there. The lanterns by the door no longer light, and the stained-glass window on the third floor—depicting some forgotten crest or sigil—glows faintly when the moon hits it just right, casting fractured color onto the stone path below. Those who pass by often speak of a sense of stillness around it—not eerie, but hushed, as if the manor is listening.
To the left, an arched doorway leads into a drawing room where heavy velvet drapes, drawn halfway open, spill golden afternoon light across covered furniture and a grand hearth of gray-veined marble. A single armchair by the cold fireplace has no sheet over it. On the mantel, a clock ticks quietly, still running, its chimes long since silenced.
The manor is tall rather than sprawling, each floor a quiet world of its own. The staircase curls upward in a graceful spiral, its balustrade wrought iron with faintly arcane patterns woven into the design—easy to miss unless you're looking for them. Portraits line the stairwell, their subjects faded but dignified, all seeming to share the same sharp, intelligent gaze.
Upstairs, the bedrooms are still made, pillows fluffed, wardrobes closed. One room—a study—has been left just as it was: books stacked on the desk, an open journal with a dry inkwell beside it. A globe stands in the corner, not of any recognizable world, its continents unlabeled and unfamiliar. The shelves groan under the weight of tomes, some written in known languages, others in looping, unknowable script.
On the top floor, there’s an observatory of sorts, the dome ceiling cracked open slightly to the sky. Dust motes drift through the beam of light that filters in. Strange instruments rest on stands—half-astrolabe, half-music box, all made of brass and crystal. None of them seem to work, but they hum softly when touched.
The manor is silent, but not empty. Every room feels paused, like a breath held. It doesn’t feel haunted, not exactly—but it does feel inhabited, in a way that suggests the house itself is alive, dreaming patiently, waiting for someone who understands its quiet language to wake it up.
When they reached their next destination Myriana looked at it in near awe. She had never been to a manor like this before and while yes they did have their guild base it wasn't the same as a manor like this! "Wow," she said as she began to look around, "this is incredible nya!"
The feline woman looked at Iris, "Can you feel that Iris-chan nya? It feels like something slumbers here!"
"Wow, indeed," Desseer whispers, echoing Myriana's sentiment.
"Why was this manor abandoned, I wonder?" he adds as they tour around the inside. "I could spend a month studying just a section."
As he tours around, he makes good use of Detect Magic.