[IC] Evernight - City of Masks

[rikistuff]

EVERNIGHT
City of Masks


http://img15.deviantart.net/ef60/i/2012/184/f/a/the_crown_conspiracy__mj_sullivan_by_marcsimonetti-d55sl0o.jpg
Art by Marc Simonetti

Night descends in the City of Masks, a signal for the gargoyles to creak and stretch and gaze upon their subjects far below from their perch. It is a city seemingly littered with such black metal and stone towers clawing at the sky, patrolled by the stony gaze of their winged guardians. Inside one such building, upon a floor overlooking the vast city, a commotion is stirring, as a private gala is set to hold the auction of the century: an unearthed figure of the past, trapped in a timeless cocoon.

The exclusive event was invitation-only, open only to the rich and powerful. Visitors are greeted with a glass of champagne at the bottom floor, where rows upon rows of platforms stand ready to usher them upwards using a new invention called the skylift. Some of the visitors audibly noted their surprise at seeing so many warforged guards patrolling a private event. Up they would go, and then out of the skylift, and up one grand flight of stairs to enter the Sun Room.

It is there that the mysterious object takes center-stage, cordoned off by ropes and warforged guards, the object is draped with a gilded purple cloth, covering its contents absolutely. The room is filled with a warm glow, and the entire floor is surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows and glass doors, all opened outward to let in the cool summer breeze. High above, a beautiful glass dome covers the ceiling, showing the smiling face of the moon and a black sky littered with stars.

Inside, the crowd thickens, the wine flows, conversation fill the air as the aroma of fine delicacies waft from the kitchen, and servants hither to and fro. The night seems promising, yet the smiles seem to be restrained, the laughter slightly forced, and the breeze brings a hint of a coming storm, and the pungent smell of rot and decay...


Everyone is now in the building, at this Sun Room floor (or about there), regardless of how you got there. You might be in the kitchen, in the restroom taking a leak, or whatever, but you're around up there.

Please describe what you're doing, how you're dressed, your state of mind, etc.

At the end, please make a Perception check (regardless of where you're at).

Along with instructions for how you can enter the party, your contact also gave you a sealed envelope. When you opened it, it had a paper with a drawing of a sword. Instructions included within the envelope mentioned that you can press the paper on your skin, and it will create a tattoo that will magically open space to store your costume/equipment in. You simply need to tap it to activate it. A warning at the bottom reads: This is good for only one use. Proceed at your own discretion.

EDIT: Forgot to mention how you can smuggle your costume in.

[Johnny America]

Jesk/Squall

Dressed in a servants outfit that is far nicer than anything else he owns. Jesk misses the familiar feel of his sword and costume. Instead of weapon he has a towel instead of a cape he has a cummerbund.

Jesk walks around the venue silver tray in hand, filled with delicious finger foods and canapes. He deftly maneuvers between groups of party goers and guests alike.

"Hors d'œuvre, madam?"

While making sure he remains near guests at all times he scopes out the area as best he can trying to figure out whats under the sheet and how he can get something so big and so obvious out from the watchful eyes of the guards. Perhaps it would just be easier to abscond with it after its been bought and the parties over?

"Ah yes sir, of course. That is a favorite of the chef's it is a caramelized beet with pistachio brittle covered with a dollop of truffle honey."

[roll0]

[Corlindale]

Gareth Hawkins / The Hexad

Gareth stands by himself in a corner of the Sun Room, still in a state of disbelief that he actually managed to get in. The guards at the door recognized his invitation and accepted his fake name without comment. He had almost forgotten what it was himself, but he knew he was supposed to be one of the "New Rich". A wealthy merchant of some sort, so he could at least play that small part of his role with some authenticity.

He had decided on a fancy suit of blue and black velvet, along with a generic blue half-mask to obscure most of his face. Not that anyone in this upper class gathering would recognize him, but it was best to be careful. The special masks were stored away safely for now. Hopefully he would not need them.


Gareth seems really uncomfortable with the situation. Though his dress looks fine enough, it's obvious to anyone who looks closely that he has no idea how to behave at a gathering like this. He holds his glass of champagne as tightly as a drowning man would hold a rope thrown from a ship. He gives a small start whenever one of the other patrons walks close by him, and those who listen really closely might hear him muttering "I shouldn't be here, I shouldn't be here..." . Fortunately, most people's attention seem to be focused on the mysterious object at the center of the room, so his cover hasn't been blown just yet.



[roll0]

[Hazuki]

Ankita Mehra/Shimmer

Returning to the world of the elite, in a manner not-costumed, is something of an odd feeling for Ankita. On the one hand, it's refreshing, because she knows how to maneuver to blend in. Where to sit, who to talk with, how much it's acceptable to drink (Not that she actually drinks any of it - that would compromise her goals), and so on. It also means that she knows just the kind of person nobody wants to talk with at a party - somebody boring, with only minor noble connections, and a money-making method that's not profitable enough for anybody else to get in on.

So, for the night, she's attending as Melissa "Lissy" Ladybird, the niece of Brendan Ladybird, a bookbinder responsible for Skarlett City's recent gem-emblazoned book craze. The books became a fashion symbol in Skarlett City, which earned the somewhat-wealthy merchant a boost in status and gold. He brought in his family members to help bind books and fill the orders he was getting, one of which was she, and she became involved with one of their clients, Frans Pastrie, earning her an official and incredibly minor title. She's in Evernight as a guest of Avelyn Silvercinno, who hopes to transfer the dying bejeweled book craze to Evernight.

Of course, Lissy is an entirely fabricated being, but that shouldn't be an obstacle barring absurd circumstances. Lissy is wearing a dark red gown, with a black shawl held together by a slightly speckled crystal (Ankita's psicrystal, hidden in plain sight) that isn't the cheapest at the auction, but rather thoroughly middle-of-the-road. Lissy is wearing flat boots, a touch of Skarlett City culture to fit in with the local fashion trends, which she fits into perfectly. And when everybody's following the fashion trends, nobody stands out - perfect for Ankita's purposes. She's settled for a fairly pale complexion, with short black hair scattered about her face.

On the other hand, returning to this life for a night reminds her of everything she used to have, which brings back a handful of disturbing memories. But she's not going to breakdown just because of that - she has a duty here, after all, and she's not going to be taken away from that. So, for most of the night, she's been meandering about the Sun room, being as boring as possible to a few people she tries to speak with, and keeping a keen eye out for anything suspicious. And there's obviously something, because assuming that she's the only costumed hero, or villain, around would be incredibly ignorant.

Fortunately, she thinks she's better off than most, because she doesn't need to bring any external equipment for quick heroing. She doesn't even need the little trick her invitation has - she can change her clothes and her entire appearance within the span of a few seconds. Ankita is ready for anything.

Ankita's Perception: [roll0]
Psicrystal Perception: [roll1]

Ankita's Disguise DC is 29, as she took 20 with her Hat of Disguise. Not that anybody would care enough anyways.

She'll manifest Conceal Thoughts (And dispense with the display, which she auto-succeeds with on taking 10) if she needs to Bluff past somebody.

[Penelomeeg]

Mahri Levelle/Beacon

Mahri has never felt so out of place in her life, which is a feat on its own considering how separate she had lived from most of society until recent years. The magnificent decor and architecture in the building, the intoxicating scent of expensive perfume and exquisite foods, and the endless sea of conversation with soft music echoing in the background. It's nearly overwhelming for the tiefling. Still, she tried her best to remain composed just as "Dame Giselle" would.

Dame Giselle Fontaine is a skilled lady knight whose family posses a small but profitable land holdings. Or so that's what Mahri has been told. The man who had only called himself "The Shade" had warned her it was in her best interest to go and use this chance. Of course the girl had trusted him, especially once his claims of being connected to her father had come forward.

Mahri, adorned in rather convenient attire for the evening, is at least thankful she managed to get some armor on out of costume. A fitted and expensive steel breastplate placed over an elegant and flowing red silk skirt that left a good deal of room for mobility. An "ornamental" sword strapped to her hip in a bejeweled scabbard and of course her disguise ornament in the form of a silver and ruby encrusted head chain. Make up is strange sensation, but thankfully the role requires very little of it. The substance makes her face feel stiff and she scrunches her nose more than once from it.

Part of the tiefling wonders about how it would feel to always look like this. A normal young woman, with pretty auburn hair and porcelain colored skin, and eyes that shone blue instead of coal black. What would it be like for it not to be a disguise? It's an old thought that she quickly moves on from.

She avoids conversation where she can, but some are rather eager to speak with the Dame. She fakes her way through those conversations best she could, responding in a way that seemed fitting of a knight. Once the people whom she was being forced to speak with leave, there's little else to do aside from wander around and listen in. She sees everyone looking to some sort of covered artifact in the room. How peculiar. Perhaps that was the item she's been warned about?

What was she even doing here? As much faith as Mahri puts in her own capabilities...she's no spy or espionage expert. The closest to experience she has is her human identity working in that little shop. She was able to count the people she'd had genuine non masked or work related conversations with on her fingers before tonight likely. She shakes the dreadful self doubt away and hold her head up high continuing to scan around. Her mother and father had likely been on severely missions like this! Who was she to fear where they had already gone.

Her resolve firm, she keeps to her character and wanders around the room. "Hors d'œuvre, madam?"

"Hm?" She asks a bit surprised by the sudden voice. Looking at the human man who asked she stammers and flushes a bit in embarrassment. "O-oh yes sure. Thank you!" She happily takes one of the little snacks and thanks him again as he walks away. She steadies herself and does her best to recover from the undignified moment.

This is going to be a long night....

[roll0]

After taking 20, Mahri's Disguise should be 33

[GrooveRiff]

Nacer leans comfortably against the back wall, just outside on the kitchen's balcony. Smoke encircles his form as he finishes off this last Andoran cigar. He flicks the stub over the side of the building, smirking as the remnant sparks topple with it.

Nacer enters the door and moves through the staff like he owns the place. He lifts some sort of chocolate delight and pops it whole. The initial flavor is mediocre but the finish is good. Nacer stays in the kitchen, moving just inside the outgoing doors to the main room with a porthole window view of the auction proceedings. He's dressed like many of the bodyguards who've accompanied tonight's guests; well armed, armored, and ready to serve his patron.

[rikistuff]

[roll0]
[roll1]

As you walk around serve food from your platter, the routine takes your mind off of the mundane tasks, letting it wander. There doesn't seem to be anything particularly noticeable on or around the cordoned off area in the center. What you do notice are three figures you'd have recognized anywhere:

King Isembert
The Lord of Evernight himself has graced this auction with his presence. Dressed in royal fineries, no clothes will attract more attention than the flock of sycophants surrounding him and causing a ruckus to show who can talk the loudest and be heard by his Majesty.

Lawgiver Miriella
Severe looking as ever, this old bird recently made headlines when she publicly chastised King Isembert for overruling her rejection of the proposed tax plans that could potentially cripple small-time merchants. Many in Evernight joked that it wouldn't be surprising if the Butcher paid her head a visit.

Prelate Phineas
The Divine Emissary, a hard lean man with hawkish face, blanketed in typical black robes, albeit more formal looking ones. He is one of the most powerful figure in Evernight, at least rivalling King Isembert. He is the head and the final authority of the Last Door faith, the most prevalent religion in Evernight, followed by some 70%+ of the population.

As you enter and leave the kitchen to get new trays, you notice what seems to be a bodyguard separated from his charge. He's surveying the room.



[roll2]
[roll3]

As you uncomfortably walk around the room, you attract attention from both ladies and gentlemen alike. You don't see anyone you recognize, but you notice heads turning, scowls appearing on the faces of some men, appreciative smiles and murmurs from the ladies. A bold lady with a glimmering golden winged eye mask, and wearing a matching gilded dress that accentuates her fine figure struts across the room towards you and points in your direction. Two warforged figures shadow her, and with a slight wave of her hand, they disperse.

"Good evening," she says, but instead of giving you a curtsy, she slaps you in the face, nearly knocking off your mask. She smiles and bites her lower lip, then leans her head to the side, her face expectant.



[roll4]
[roll5]

You circle and survey the room like a shark, keeping your talking to a minimum, and ever alert for the first sign of danger. You notice several publicly well-known figures attending the auction:

King Isembert
The Lord of Evernight himself has graced this auction with his presence. Dressed in royal fineries, no clothes will attract more attention than the flock of sycophants surrounding him and causing a ruckus to show who can talk the loudest and be heard by his Majesty.

Prelate Phineas
The Divine Emissary, a hard lean man with hawkish face, blanketed in typical black robes, albeit more formal looking ones. He is one of the most powerful figure in Evernight, at least rivalling King Isembert. He is the head and the final authority of the Last Door faith, the most prevalent religion in Evernight, followed by some 70%+ of the population.

Galven Stark
The Warden of the West Wall, more commonly known as The Last Honest Man of Evernight, he is believed to be the lone trustworthy figure in the entirety of the City Guards. He owns a resting face that looks ready to murder you. You made eye contact, and his stare was piercing, as if he could divine your very soul and rip your sins for all to see. Galven has survived more assassination attempts than anyone can count, though none has dared such a foolish attempt in years. His renown is such that it elevated him to be that rare figure that stands above the rest, loved by the public for his efficiency, respected and feared by his enemies for his abilities, and trusted by virtually everyone for his brutal honesty. Give this man a task, and it will be refused or it will be completed.

Lady Brida
The Minister of Coin, Lady Brida is known for her cunning. She rose to prominence when the previous Minister was found dead, with foul play heavily suspected. When the Council voted a new Minister, he too was found dead, this time alongside a Council member. Lady Brida was a prime suspect in both cases, but all investigations led nowhere. In the next meeting, the Council voted her as Minister with a unanimous vote.

Shortly after several trips around the room, a handsome gentleman approached you with a smile. He looks to be about late 20s or early 30s, boldly wearing an unbuttoned attire that shows off the muscles underneath. He's good looking, knows that he is, knows that others know that he knows, and it makes him smile all the more. He approaches you with the grace of a lion deigning an audience to man.

"Forgive my intrusion, I simply cannot abide seeing a lady standing by herself. Please, allow me to introduce myself. I am Garrison Thorn, of the such-and-such-title-and-so-on-and-so-on" He said with a bemused smile, one you assume have opened many doors and other things in the past. "And to whom am I speaking with?"

A glint in his eyes makes you think that he's either playing with you, or he has some other unknown agenda, but your keen perception tells you there was no denying that his approach was calculated, and you were singled out for a reason.



[roll6]
[roll7]

A few men tries to approach you and make your acquaintance, but they each left within a few minutes of speaking to you, whether they changed their mind of their own volition, or you scared them away, you're not sure. You don't notice anyone you recognize as you uncomfortably walk around the room, and you had to apologize a few times as you nearly stumbled onto random people. It must be because the place was becoming packed.

As you're inspecting the draped object in the middle of the room, a man stumbles onto you, immediately alerting the warforged guards standing nearby. They untangle the two of you and help you up. "Please, be more careful, and please step away from this area," the warforged to your left says. Its tone was not unpleasant, but strangely flat, devoid of emotions. "It will be unveiled shortly, and any further attempts to peek will result with an escort out."

The stranger who bumped you looked at you with an apologetic smile. He had a chiseled look, but refined, clearly one of high society's finest. "Please, forgive me," he said as he bowed. He was about to continue speaking when a gaggle of ladies carrying sloshing wine laughed loudly and cut off his words. As they approached, the gentleman took your hand and turned his back, "please, save me from them," he implored you, his face that was just a moment ago the very definition of a refined gentleman now looks like a mask plastered on a face dreading idiotic chatter. "Let us keep walking, and pretend that you require my assistance."



Pre-emptive roll: [roll8]
[roll9]

Calmly staring out the porthole window, the scenery seems almost peaceful, a gathering of beautiful people enjoying a beautiful night with rich food and rich wine. Your eyes spot several guests of prominence: King Isembert and his sycophant entourage, the Minister of Coin Lady Brida and her poisonous mind, and the severe Lawgiver Lady Miriella and her sour face. Of surprising note was spotting the Arch Inquisitor:

Lord Rufus
A man with impotent power. The Arch Inquisitor was a title that used to be feared, but Lord Rufus is regarded as a good man, and thus seen as weak, and rendered powerless by his refusal to play dirty. Unlike Galven Stark, the Warden of the West, Lord Rufus lacks the means and ability to get things done. Inviting him to a high society function is akin to hiring unwashed servants to serve the food.

As your mind wandered in an attempt to deduct why Lord Rufus is here, you spot something out of the corner of your eye. It was a brief glimpse, and then gone. You quickly scan the area, unsure of what you're even looking for, and yet you found it again. You spot a handsome young man sporting an unbutton shirt languidly walking to a rather ordinary looking lady. To an untrained eye, the man is walking with the telltale gait of an arrogant youth come to claim his prize, but there is an unmistakeable deadly weight to his steps, one that your eyes have seen only a few times when you were lucky enough to witness a warrior of unmatched skills stalking its prey. Yet there was a slight difference here.

And as you ponder that, you feel a pair of eyes boring holes onto your back.




Pre-emptive roll: [roll10]
[roll11]

Aside from the King, you only spot one other person that you recognize as you make your way around the room:

Arbiter Aeleis
She's well-known amongst the well-to-do as a sadist with a penchant for abusing young good looking men. She seems to have found a target, and wasted no time by greeting him with a hard slap. You'd do well to avert your eyes, lest you get roped into the mess.

The conversation and chatter around the room is varied, but two subjects seem to come up most often: the activities of the Butcher, due to the recent discovery of his latest victim, and of course the auction itself, with only a small percentage of the people seemingly interested in actually bidding on the item. Up here, there is a lack of discussion of Maskers or the high level security, which you assume is due to the King's presence.



Pre-emptive roll: [roll12]
[roll13]

Stuck in the kitchen, you're unsure how you'll be able to see anything to be able to do anything about anything. As you prepare another dish, the door swings open and a well-armed guard walks in like he owns the place. He leans by the door and keeps his eyes locked into the door's porthole window.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

In the kitchen, between a table covered in seaweed and an urn full of escargot, a gnome in a hairnet feverishly works to assemble yet another trayload of honey-beet things, resenting the so-called chef's dedication to assembling each snack in a precise, identical pattern.

Earlier, she had used her contact's magic tattoo to stash her pack, but kept most of her emergency components in her pockets, under her work uniform. An unintended side-effect of this is that an already-hot kitchen gets especially sweaty when you're wearing two layers of clothes. Ugh, I hope that spell doesn't count chafing as a release mechanism...

"...and who the heck makes brittle with pistachios anyway? Whatever, just two more and I can get back to my cinnamon yams can spinach croissants. I wonder who got the lemon-flavored one..."

In short order, she rushes the tray to the swinging door and exchanges it for a Jesk's empty one. She sneaks a look out the door as she does so, but turns back around without giving it too much thought. That artifact is big and conspicuous; if anything goes wrong with it, the whole Sun Room will be sure to start shouting.

[roll0]+15. Possibly with another +2 from enhanced awareness if she heard that the auction was starting soon.

(edit)

Bubbles raises an eyebrow at the guard, but shrugs it off. He's probably just taking a break from the crowd, and she can certainly understand that.

[GrooveRiff]

Perception [roll0]

[Integrity]

Domm Haggard / The Crimson Talon
Domm wears a regal purple silk tunic with a charcoal overcoat and slacks. His fine leather boots and belt are a matching oxblood. His platinum House Trimmack signet ring on index finger with matching amethyst ring on the other hand are the only jewelry he wears, though he does not seem out of place. Domm's short cropped dark hair and well trimmed goatee and perfectly kept.

Making small talk and exchanging pleasantries with others as they approach, Domm takes the smallest of sips from the champagne glass, nursing it just enough to fit in with the rest of the crowd. Domm has no idea how to get this item, but he decides he wants to keep and eye on the outliers, those sulking on the fringe of the party, or who seem out of place, more so than those who truly seem to be hear for the auction. There is no way he can be the only one here trying to keep this item, whatever it may be, out of the wrong hands.

Perception: [roll0] +2 if Construct or Humanoid (15)
Sense Motive: [roll1] +2 if Construct or Humanoid (14)

Edit: (OOC)-Ughh, wow a 2 and 3... glad those are out of the way lol.

[Penelomeeg]

Mahri/Beacon

A bit disappointed at being lead away by the warforges, Mahri makes her way through the room. Disheartened by how the night seems to be going so far, she does her best to keep to her persona. However, she has the feeling she isn't fitting in very well. Surely a noble lady wouldn't keep stuttering and knocking into people they way she is ?

It's then of course another person has to bump into her. The crowd is certainly getting unbearably cramped. She turns to again apologize but is pleasant surprises when it's the other person doing it this time. She politely nods and is about to let him go off when a rather rowdy bunch of ladies draws near. The man's face drops in demeanor in an instant.

"Of course," she whispers offering her arm to the man like she's seen various people do throughout the night to allow him to lead them away from the giggling women. She gives him a sympathetic look perfectly understanding the feeling of being trapped at this event. "Shall we?"

[Johnny America]

Jesk/Squall

"Yes, certainly. But the chef seems enamored with the idea. I personally prefer to just eat the damn things straight out of the shell." Jesk adds conversationally as he's handed the new tray. He shrugs as he turns to leave "but what do I know I'm certainly not the head chef of this place." Walking out into the dining room he quickly notices the out of place body guard. Deciding it best to keep an eye on the suspicious man he continues to walk around the room listening in on the idle conversations of the rich and powerful trying to inconspicuously make his way over to some of the more important players he noticed earlier all the while keeping the stray body guard in the corner of his eye.

"Ah yes sir, these are gluten free, I can assure you."

[rikistuff]

As you stroll back out on the floor once more, you were ignoring the background chatter as you tried to hone in on the important figures, but then you hear a man's voice: "...rumored to be alive when the city was founded. We may have discovered one of the original..."



The gentleman gives your wrist a warm firm grip, a gesture of thanks for your intervention. "Please forgive me, I'm not one to generally ask for assistance, but I'm afraid you've just rescued me from the clutches of evil witches set to turn my ears deaf." He gives you a solemn smile. "I shall be out of your way in a moment, just take me somewhere away from the witches. The trick, however, is you must do so without alerting them that you're paying them any mind, so don't look in their direction. Other than that, lead me away, anywhere, but away, please."

[Corlindale]

Reeling from the blow, a cacaphony of voices suddenly arise in Gareth's head. She dares to punch us! Let's give her one right back!...no, wait, we have no idea who she is...did you see the way she commanded those guards...must be powerful, must be dangerous... we have to be discreet...can't look too strong...can't look too weak...but this pathetic fool is going to blow our cover... alright, I'll handle this for him.

Gareth looks up at the golden lady, while adjusting his mask with one hand. He gives her a half-smile and speaks - with quite a bit more confidence in his voice and posture than before: "I am sorry, my Lady. I do not believe we have met before. So either you are mistaking me for someone else, or there's a new, quite interesting way of greeting that I am not yet familiar with. Either way, a good evening to you, too."

[roll0]

[Hazuki]

Ankita Mehra / Shimmer

"Oh, helloooo." Lissy greets the man with a polite smile that seems like it's barely able to avoid stretching off of her face. Shimmer, meanwhile, is focusing on her desire to not be caught, how to turn her lies best so that this similarly-calculating individual will leave her be. Whatever his motives, she can't be sure that he hasn't seen through her disguise already, and that means dialing up the idiot persona. "My name is Melissa, Lady Melissa Ladybird." She giggles coyly, as though a secret joke has been whispered in her ear. "My friends call me Lissy. But don't get any ideas!" She points a playfully chastising finger at the man. "I'm a married woman, you know. For a whooole year and two months, now!"

1PP, manifesting it now and Dispensing with Displays.

[Johnny America]

Jesk hearing this bit of information, pauses for a bit at the next group of guests then begins making his way from one cluster of guests to the next, pausing at each one of course to offer one of the chefs hors d'oeuvres and respond to any of the questions they might ask about what is being served; making his way closer to where he heard that bit of conversation hoping it might help him learn more about what could be under that cloth.

passive: 17
(if needed)active: [roll0]

[Penelomeeg]

Mahri nods to the man and keeping her back facing the direction of the ladies whisperes for him to follow her lead. With a gentle yet steady grip she guides him towards one of the smaller balconys in the area. Stepping just outside into the night air she smiles at the man.

"A minute or two should have them wandering off to bother someone else once they see us out here and you'll be free to wander back inside without losing your hearing," she says with a bit of a laugh. Not mocking in anyway, but more just a light hearted gesture."After all it'd be rude to barge out here while we're talking...right?" She still isn't quite accustomed to "noble courtesy" as they call it.

[GrooveRiff]

(inner monologue)
Lord Rufus, he should be home polishing spoons. I bet someone invited him here to put a knife in his back.

Who's this, some lad chasing a skirt? Probably another rich rapist. That'll shake things up for certain.
[roll0]

Resting my left arm against the counter, I slowly clinch my left fist in what might ruin my reason for being here and ruin someones evening in the process. My right arm relaxes to the light hammer clipped on my waist. I turn my neck and shoulders toward the eyes now fixed upon me, keeping my body positioned toward the door. My face is grim, eyes squinted, lip slightly curled. [roll1]

If this is all for naught, and just some sniffling kitchen help closing in for a better look, I relax and move through the kitchen doors, taking a standard, arms-behind-my-back, bodyguard-like posture by the door, now in the main room.