[IC] Bloody Inheritance

[Callos_DeTerran]

The streets of the City of Thorns have their own character depending on where one finds their path has taken them, but certain hallmarks act as identifiers for the part of town that someone finds themselves in. The looming spires and numerous stony gargoyles that squat on the corners of buildings show the various attendees of Narciso Logario's funeral that they've entered into one of the more well-of districts of the city, Hellhound Hill that sits in the shadow of Thrune Manor, as does the omnipresent black-and-crimson marble that is used to decorate the looming buildings. A wrought iron fence acts as a buffer between the cobblestone street and the modest townhouse that the deceased had lived in, allowing the fancifully dressed men and women to mingle in the small yard in front without getting dust on their silks and satins. Not all who attend are dressed for comfort though, two people in the specialized full plate of the Hellknights prowl the courtyard, a stark contrast to the soft nobility that flutter about them or approach for obviously stilted conversations before seeking conversation with more personable partners.

Inside of Narciso's former home the scene is much the same, though the close hallways and the more private rooms quickly become home to clandestine conversations between ambitious members of the city as opposed the 'friendlier' ones in the larger rooms about rumors and current trends among the who's-who of Egorian. Some of the most prevalent gossip is about the secretive contents of Narciso's will and which members of his estranged family will be the beneficiaries of his amassed fortune.A large painting of Narciso had the courtesy of two bouquets of Egorian black roses set on either side of it while a young woman, presumably a member of his family, stands disdainfully by it to receive the rehearsed condolences of the people who attend. Opposite her is a strongly built man wearing the garb of the Church of Asmodeus who often glances around irately as if wondering if his time in this home has come to an end. A quartet of musicians plays suitably mournful music for the occasion except for when they are discreetly passed a few coins to liven up the atmosphere until propriety compels them to maintain a sorrowful atmosphere. The entire townhouse has quickly become a hotbed of prickly nobility, ambitious merchants, and only a handful of people with an actual interest in keeping the peace. This was the location that four unlikely individuals had been invited to join...

Not as nice as I'd prefer to make this, but I'm typing it as I'm heading out the door. Feel free to invent little details to fill the scene, talk with party guests, or look for information among those assembled.

[Icilia]

Looking at Narciso's former estate, Kezojan feels a brief moment of true sadness about Narciso's demise. Kezojan quickly shakes it off and returns to hi usual demeanour. Entering the estate, he walks past the Hell Knights and into the manor. His first action is to give his condolences. Spying the large painting with the young lady next to it, Kezojan makes his way over to her.

"Ah, you must be Narciso's... Niece? Narciso's loss has struck us all very hard. The man was like a father to me. I truly cannot express how deeply saddened I am to know that he has passed." Diplomacy roll: [roll0] or Bluff roll: [roll1]

After giving a few more condolences to the young lady, Kezojan bows briefly to the cleric before mingling with the crowd. He keeps an eye out for anyway interesting or that he way know, and keeps an ear out for any positive discussions about any of his work.

[Prehysterical]

Jacinius showed up to the party in his sculptor's outfit instead of any of the finery of the nobles. If the old man were still alive, I'm sure he would've gotten a kick out of it. His thoughts sour as he contemplates Narciso's death. Yeah, he was old, but he didn't seem like he was in bad shape. Wonder what kind of "accident" happened to him... "Narcissimo" had to have at least a few people that wanted him dead.

Strolling across the front lawn, Jacinius's eyes regard the statue in the middle from behind his iron mask. His finest work stood there in true Egorian fashion: a tauric creature with a black spiky hide and glaring red eyes. He'd had to special-order ruby dust to get the shine just right. After all, it was modelled after his own eidolon, and every detail had to be perfect...

Unfortunately, the statue also stood to a testament to his own failure. Madelina was still missing, and somehow no one had either seen her or been willing to talk about it. A smoldering anger began to burn beneath the blanket of melancholy he felt.

Looking around, he sees one of the Hellknights patrolling the lawn for trouble-makers and gate-crashers. His negativity gives way to slight sympathy. Now, those guys have it bad. Are they rookies, or did they get on the bad side of their commanding officer to get stuck with this nonsense?

Walking up to one of them, Jacinius asks casually, "Hey, there, buddy! Is this place full of snobs or what? If you like, I can get one of the servants to get you and your friend a drink. Least I can do to make your evening here a little more bearable.

By the way, have you seen my good friend Bodicea? I've been in contact with your order for the past few months, but I haven't a hair of her. She didn't transfer out of here, did she?"

[ArcturusV]

Alrik del'Sorva

He always wanted to fit in.

But at this moment he felt very out of place. Oh sure, he had his noble finery on for the event. He was freshly trimmed and shaved, but there was just enough of a difference to the young Alrik to stand out in the crowd of Narcisso's wake. Despite being dressed as a noble, his darker, working man's tan and weathered skin and hands marked him out as something different. He was close enough on his manners as he attended the function, but always something a little "off" about how he did things. The way he held his drink, the way he moved through the crowd, the inflection of his voice that marked him not quite as the Hell's Heart bound noble that he wanted to be, but as someone who was outside of standard Egorian culture and nobility. Close enough to Cheliaxian, but clearly from somewhere other than the capital.

He made no real attempt to hide it when and if someone asked, but it was still a mark of shame for him to be that outsider, no matter how hard he had tried to fit in or how fascinating he found Egorian style.

After a bit of mingling with those in the larger rooms, some drinking, some gossip, and listening to the rumors and tales of the gathered nobles with rapt attention (No one could fault him as less than a enthusiastic listener if anything, his attention was always tightly focused on whoever was speaking to him), he found himself with his drink in hand, wandering up the stairs of Narcisso's manor. There was a bit of a somber attitude about him, as he realized it was the last time he'd walk these steps most likely.

He found himself going down the hallway as usual, approaching the door that Narcisso usually waited for him behind. He stopped and frowned. Of course he wouldn't be there. It was a silly thing to think of. He should be downstairs mingling, maybe finding a new patron to feed his crafts and his lifestyle. That nagging part of his mind kept insisting at him, maybe finding some craftsman indebted to one of these nobles here and replace them... It was important. Still he found his hand reaching for that door, not knowing who might lurk in the library, what noble might be plotting in there, taking the chance to mark out possessions to be stolen later, or something stranger. He half expected to see his old friend there, despite all assurances that he was well and truly dead as he opened the door and peeked inside...

[ImperialSunligh]

Gavino

Having left his mount outside the estate, Gavino dutifully followed his master, Alrik, as he navigated the event, watching the area for any sign of danger to him. He no doubt drew some unpleasant looks, but he returned them with an utterly unfeeling gaze. He was used to this.

He could not help but be sad in this place. Despite having barely met Lagorio, he felt that he was a kind man and one that the world would be worse without. He did not weep, as it would be uncouth, but stood vigil with his master, curious in spite of himself what would be found behind the door.