A Misdirection of Magicians (IC)

[Metastachydium]

Kirsch spends a few moments basking in the light of this welcome revelation, but that does not make him any less confused. He had no idea why he was called here in the first place and while he is certain of his own importance, he did not expect this much from Lady Emalia. Well, rest assured that I am equally surprised to learn this. It has been a long time since I last spoke to the Lady, I must admit. Kirsch has the vague feeling that this is either a rare opportunity (he knows the rumours about the castle, after all) or barring that, it bodes ill, but he dismisses the thoughts for now, clicking his tongue thouhhtfully instead before continuing. Nevertheless, it might as well make perfect sense: were I the kind Lady, I would not expect that the news of these banquets will reach Miessen on their own either unless certain measures are taken to ensure that much. I am confident that the Lady does not mean to offend the local elite, and at any rate Kirsch pauses shortly, to inspect his right hand again and taps his signet ring with the side of his thumb claw before making an attempt to smoothly change the subject if my position is perhaps enviable, so is yours. Spyre is a blessed tract of land and it is dear to us magicians. The lizard's scales take on an even more radiant hue than before as he puts a subtle emphasis on the last word. It must be wonderful to have easy access to such a magnificent collection of writings as is that which your noble line possesses.

[Ripptor]

Megamax notes Nessie's secret brush-off, and feigns losing interest as she takes another swig from the "good stuff" as Spycrist focuses on the dancing lights. Following him through the library on the mini tour, it's interesting how much pride he seems to be showing off Lady's estate, even while denouncing the wasteful expenses. Meagan is visibly surprised at Spycrist's sudden admission, then sly at him, "Did you miss us that much, old man? I would still have come if you had asked yourself..." Meagan considers for a second, thinking back to those left back in the entrance hall for the secret rendezvous. "Just how many people did you press into this scheme of yours? Is that old beggar Kotoba part of your play?" To herself, Meagan admits disappointment that Lady herself did not request her presence. She had been looking forward to their reunion, but not as a surprise party crasher. This complicates things...

Spoiler: OoC

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Well, now that he's admitted to lying, Megamax is turning her full attention to Spycrist and his answers.

Taking 10 for Sense Motive 20 on a Hunch while they talk, as well as for any potential untruths as he continues his story.

[Toliudar]

Clytemnestra

The older elf woman, whom had seemed to be getting a kind of spring in her halting step, loses much of that spirit when Meaghan calls her 'Nessy', and she settles again into a placid, aloof mask.

The guest library and games area is of mild interest to Clytemnestra. Mostly in the way it seems to contradict what Spycrist has already said. With more than a thousand volumes, it might be the pride of half of the academies on the continent. And if this is only for guests...

She stumped over to one of the shelves to examine the books, to ascertain if they were real. Then, murmuring a simple detection spell, she scanned the room for any magical devices or effects, especially divinations. Paranoia was one thing, but if this steward was as devious as Spycrist suggested, one could never be too careful. Only once her examination was complete did she turn to speak with the other two.

Clytemnestra also felt a pang of regret when Spycrist revealed that it wasn't Emalia who had invited her. Well, perhaps the past should stay buried in the past after all.

"Madame Megamax offers a salient question. Here's another. What do you think that we'll be able to do for the Lady Emalia now that we ARE here?"

Spoiler: OOC

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Clytemnestra is testing Spycrist's story by doing a thumbnail assessment of this library's value. Appraise: (1d20+6)[8]
She then casts Detect Magic and scans the room (and her two companions) for auras. Spellcraft: (1d20+14)[16]

Spoiler: Appearance

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A tall and imposing looking elven woman is dressed impeccably in a stylish brocade jacket and woolen breeches. Her lovely face is marked by a dozen scars, the puckered and ivory marks standing out against her tanned skin. The woman's loose hair is grey-white and falls to the small of her back. The woman carries a slender polished staff, and when she moves it becomes clear that it provides stability to her tottering walk, as well as a sense of style.

Spoiler: Statblock

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Clytemnestra 'Nessie" Dekatos
Female LN Grey Elf Beguiler1/Conjurer4/Ultimate Magus1, Level 6, Init 4, HP 25/25, Speed 15
AC 14, Touch 10, Flat-footed 14, Fort 2, Ref 1, Will 9, Base Attack Bonus 2, Power Points 33/34
Sling +2 (1d4+1, x2)
Quarterstaff +3 (1d6+1, x2)
Mage Armour (+4 Armor)
Abilities Str 12, Dex 11, Con 13, Int 22, Wis 12, Cha 14
Condition Mage Armour

[Erelamar]

Clytemnestra and Megamax (hiding in a Servants' Lounge with Spycrist)

Spycrist rubs his bald head. "I don't know. If'n I knew what to do, I'd have done it myself. Talk to her, I'm guessing. Say something gets her to pause and take this all in; she's a proper lady now, got everything she's always wanted. Sure, the old elf lord passed and she misses him something bad but she's loved before, och—" The old retainer stares at the ground for a moment like he's trying to find something desperately in the stone tiles' grout. "She's just always sprung back is all.

"And now you got that snow elf; who knows what he's up to? And that shark, the Duke, Orville, he's just a'circling. There both tryin' take this place from her, and I'll not be having it." For the first time you notice Spycrist's breathing is somewhat raspy.

At Megamax's querries, he continues, "Kotoba, yeah, too bad he didn't spot us earlier. I'll try to get around to talking to him, too. He may be not much to look at, but him and his ward are of them story-binders from the Southern Badlands. Let's just say, I cast a wide net when I was trying to get a helping hand, better to be over-prepared is all..." In unthinking punctuation to his sentence, Spycrist pulls a second flask from a back pocket and takes a sip from it. When pressed as to just how many invitations he sent out in Lady Emalia's name, his answer comes reluctantly, "Eh, well, forty? Fifty? Thereabouts. Anybody who'd still might have affection for the Lady and could maybe make the trip. I'm surprised I got three though, it's been so long.

"Funny though, of all the different scoundrels and bards, sellswords, and circus folk, only magicians took up the letter's offer."

Kirsch and Victor (in a group traveling the Skywalk nearing the Castle Gates)

"It'll be so nice to have a magician back at Allsatalos," the toothy lady beside Victor says to the crowd. "Don't you think so, Nadjy? What's it been since the steward ran the elf lord's cousin off? Ten months, eleven?"

Lady Nadjiel replies casually, "Twelve, Lilet von Bleak, a whole year." The subtle scolding in using the noblewoman's full name sans title in reply to her cutesy nickname is not lost on either magician.

Lady Lilet gives a slight harrumph but grins through it still. She continues to anyone who will listen, "That is, the late elf lord's younger cousin, much younger. Gods, he was like a ghost, so ethereal he kind of glowed—the late elf lord that is. I was at their wedding. It was very select, very hush-hush, so naturally, everybody was talking about it. But the younger cousin, gods, what was his name? Maybe you know him, Victor, he trained at the... what's it called, the, the... Incrementon! in Gleam. He was the official castle wizard at Allsatalos for decades before his cousin's death. Then I guess, things became too unpleasant for him and he packed up his bags and his apprentices and took off. I wonder where he went, I'm sure I knew at one point..."

At the front of the column, Kirsch and Nadjiel's conversation is much less audible than that of the guffawing Lady Lilet's at the rear. Even still, the elven noble casually points over her shoulder at the spectacle. "She is not wrong," Nadjiel confides to Kirsch. "Father Neomund, the chief steward, continually made things more difficult for the castle's wizard until he got fed up and left: interrupting his sleep with important messages, demanding he is full up on construction spells prepared for renovations but then put it off day after day because the architects failed to arrive; a long list of petty annoyances which deprived the cousin of research and sleep. From what I've gathered, he took a teaching position at the Incrementon, his alma mater. Of course, Father Neomund wouldn't like any magician being as he is a member of the Tolerance."

Spoiler: OOC

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So, just what all of you know off the bat based on your intelligence scores:

• The Incrementon is THE School of Magic in Eldwizand. It is stuffy, traditional, and elitest. Its associated arcane order (The Brotherhood of Pragmatic Incrementalists) can trace its roots back almost a thousand years, to the earliest days after the disappearance of the Conclave of Wizards. It has little in the way of rivalry besides the training grounds in the Valley of Fire, which has its own issues, and the University of Scarthey in Sandrine (a far more egalitarian and free-thinking academy). Based on the PCs' backstories and/or temperaments, none of you studied at the Incrementon.
• The Tolerance is a hundred-year-old order of monastic knights seen on every continent and sea. Little is known of their faith, precepts, or purpose—there are hints it is a dire one. They seemingly act with impunity in most sovereign lands, and they do not like magicians. As to how or why, few are willing to say.

This information will be added to OOC second post in time, as it gets fleshed out by knowledge checks and the like.

[Metastachydium]

Kirsch doesn't mind much that his compliments ended up ignored (even though he hoped for something like an invitation to the famed library). He's not here to do small talk, after all and the presence of the Tolerance in Allsatalos is important news. The Tolerance, you say? I was about to ask how the man acquired that honorific. the smile shortly disappears from the lizard's face. This sounds worrisome. I sure hope he has the manners and basic common sense not to pester the Lady's noble guests as well. he adds with a dry laugh. Anyhow, I wonder why a man of the Tolerance would elect to serve as a provincial steward of all things. he muses realising only too late that he probably shouldn't have added provincial. How would you riddle this, if I may ask?

Spoiler: More checks!

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Concerning Lilet von Bleak:
Knowledge (nobility and royalty) (1d20+8)[24]

Concerning the Tolerance:
Knowledge (history) (1d20+8)[23]
Knowledge (religion) (1d20+5)[11]
Knowledge (local) (what is their status in the Alliance?) (1d20+7)[18]

[Toliudar]

Clytemnestra

"May we sit and chat here? We are not, to the best of my ability to tell, observed."

Clytemnestra lowers herself carefully into a chair, and keeps one hand on her staff.

"It might have been more effective to come to us, rather than drawing in old, um, friends with false pretenses. But it seems clear that your heart is in the right place."

She takes a deep breath, trying to order her thoughts, and looks up at Meaghan. She wasn't clear how close she had been with Emalia, or where her allegiances might lie now, but now seemed as good a time as any for a leap of faith.

"Duke Orbal I know a bit -" She turns to Megamax with a wry smile. "- if only by reputation. I suppose I should be flattered that you think it would be otherwise. But I am assuming that his interest is primarily financial, since he stands to lose his wealth and power when his son comes of age."

She turned back to Spycrist. "What else can you tell us about this Father Neomund. Is he actually a priest, or is that an affectation. Of what faith? How long has he been in Emalia's service. Has anyone checked to see if his influence on her is more than spiritual? By which I mean, might she be under some kind of magical influence from him?"

She waits for Spycrist to expand as he sees fit, and then launches into a new line of inquiry.

"Given the prevalence of magic in my culture, it is both striking and unusual that there are no magicians here in Emalia's household. Is this happenstance, some sort of precondition connected to Allsatalos, Emalia's decree, or have any wizards simply been run off? Or...something beyond my rather limited imagination?"

She paused, her thoughts exhausted for the moment. She turns to Megamax.

"I believe I'll have that drink now, if you're still offering."

Spoiler: OOC

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Spoiler: Appearance

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A tall and imposing looking elven woman is dressed impeccably in a stylish brocade jacket and woolen breeches. Her lovely face is marked by a dozen scars, the puckered and ivory marks standing out against her tanned skin. The woman's loose hair is grey-white and falls to the small of her back. The woman carries a slender polished staff, and when she moves it becomes clear that it provides stability to her tottering walk, as well as a sense of style.

Spoiler: Statblock

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Clytemnestra 'Nessie" Dekatos
Female LN Grey Elf Beguiler1/Conjurer4/Ultimate Magus1, Level 6, Init 4, HP 25/25, Speed 15
AC 14, Touch 10, Flat-footed 14, Fort 2, Ref 1, Will 9, Base Attack Bonus 2, Power Points 33/34
Sling +2 (1d4+1, x2)
Quarterstaff +3 (1d6+1, x2)
Mage Armour (+4 Armor)
Abilities Str 12, Dex 11, Con 13, Int 22, Wis 12, Cha 14
Condition Mage Armour

[Geeksthenewsexy]

"Of course, I...um... run off, you say?" Grimacing at the explanation as to why, he remarks dryly, "My, a year without a magician at hand... how dreadfully dull that must be." Flashing a pearly-white smile, Victor tucks his cane under his arm and wiggles his fingers and a gold coin slips from his pocket to float lazily in front of him above the dramatically splayed palm of his off-hand. Worn and dented, the coin looks much like any other. Snapping his fingers dramatically, the coin starts to spin in place above his palm. Tiny spinning runes form in the air around the coin before sinking into it and disappearing. Immediately its shape warps and bends, twisting itself into a gold ring, smooth and polished. Glancing at Lady Lilet as the ring continues to spin above his palm and muses wistfully, "How does one entertain one's self without magic, I wonder?" Fingers continuing to wiggle lazily, the ring slowly bobs and dances above his palm before reshaping itself back into a coin - although retaining its new polish, much like Lady Lilet's jewelry.

Spoiler: OOC

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As fit for a faux magician, he's milking his hour of Prestidigitation for all its worth. Now making successive use of the Lift, Sketch, Change, and Polish options.
Lift - Lift the coin up and have it slowly spin, bob, dance, etc.
Sketch - Tiny nonsense runes drawn and released upon contact with the coin.
Change - Coin -> Ring -> Coin
Polish - As advertised

[Ripptor]

Megamax's shoulders relax as she leans forward towards Spycrist. "All right, old man. I'm in. As long as it stays in Lady's best interest." Her sad smile turning wry, she shrugs nonchalantly. "Leastwise, until Mother Enbach's goons catch wind that I'm here, and I cause more trouble than I'm worth." "I won't be dragged back into the Red Coven, but I won't make that Lady's problem again, either. I'll be Mother's Circle Battery before I let Lady get hurt helping me a second time." At Clytemnestra's suggestion, Meagan waves her servant pull her out a lavish chair as well, sitting gratefully across the table. Despite leaning on the servant, her breath comes slightly shallow as she recovers from the long walk, listening on Duke Orbal's affairs from the deep cushions. Sounds like the old Duke is looking for a more comfortable retirement. Perhaps in Lady's arms? Baubie supplements, tucked safe in her four-dimensional pocket. Meagan keeps her face steady as she sends back, Even here, I find myself surrounded by the sentiments and schemes of old age... Do remind me to die young. You'll find a way, even should I find a way to stay silent on the matter. Meagan and her mini-dragon share a silent bloom of mental mirth. As Clytemnestra drills in on Father Neomund, Meagan snaps at a candle on the table, lighting a small flame on the wick. The honorific "Father" causes Megamax to instantly worry about the icy elf... It reeks of overbearing paternalism at the expense of the so-called "Family". If Spycrist's hunch is right, she would be more than happy to see Lady away from a false parent of her own. Clytemnestra catches Meagan staring into the dancing candle as her questioning stops, snapping her out as the demon girl gladly shares the bottle with her. Good to know she'll share some drink with her.

Spoiler: OoC

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Meagan grows weary of all these elders and their schemes... But Spycrist can be an exception.

He should count himself lucky she can read him so well as to trust him this much

[Erelamar]

Clytemnestra and Megamax (with Spycrist in Servant's Lounge, 2nd story)

Spycrist hands his spare flask to Clytemnestra at the first mention of drink. Then he slouches into a simple chair, staring at the bare wooden table in thought. "I canna quite remember what they said the snow elf's religion be. He doesn't talk about it much. Doesn't spend any time in the castle chapel neither. He's been here forever, I reckon, eighty-ninety years or more. He and his people, och, the medallion: he wears a silver medallion with a trumpet with seven horns, openings, where the sound comes out, you know what I mean..." He waits to see if that holds any significance, and it does for Clytemnestra: The Tolerance, and while Megmax didn't immediately connect the symbol with the order, she too, is familiar with the name. "Aye, that sounds right. Him and his people made a deal with the late elf lord way back when. I don't know the terms, I don't guess anybody here does except maybe Neomund. Probably written down somewhere though.

"I do know the elf lord trusted him more than about anyone. Said, 'He's got the castle's best interests at heart.' But, of course, he was practically a spectre by then he was so old. One moment he'd be in the present, the next he'd be talking like it was two-hundred years ago. Like his brain was dancing through his entire lifetime."

At the talk of wizards at Allsatalos, Spycrist says, "Aye, the late elf lord's cousin was the court magician here, he had a couple students, too. Had been for a time I'd gathered." Spycrist threw a thumb over his shoulder back east the way they had come, "You take that first spiral staircase all the way to the top of the tower, it's his old room. Locked down now, I figure.

"He took off a couple months after the elf lord died. Father Neomund was giving him a fit, pointless chores, waking him up all hours of the night to ask simple questions about whatever, I can't remember they were so pointless. Eventually, the cousin got tired of it, took his students, and left. Can't remember where to... So, when you be wondering, Nessie, if Neomund got some kind of spell on the Lady. I don't think so, I don't think he wants any magicians, er, at least true magicians, in the castle at all. First chance he got, he ran off one that he'd been living under the same roof with for decades."

A quartet of horns echo down the servants' corridor, rattling the wooden door to the lounge where the old retainer and the two magicians rest. "Och, that's another group of guests. We'd better be getting the two of you to your rooms before the good ones are all snatched up."

Victor and Kirsch

Before Lady Nadjiel can reply to Kirsch's first question, Lilet von Bleak speaks up over the wind in answer, "Neomund does not give a flying fart who or what you are! If you run afoul of him, go where he says not to, he'll evict you without batting an eye. Remember? Remember when Baron whatshisface and his friend broke into the wine cellar after it died down one night—you know, grab a few bottles and keep the party going, that sort of thing? Neomund caught them, and sans cape or coat he threw them out the front gates onto the Skywalk; said 'they had exactly one minute before he'd reach the controls to turn the Skywalk to mist, so their lordships had better run!' What a cad!" And the grinning noblewoman can not stop laughing.

"Again, all true," confirms Lady Nadjiel. "Though he gave them a little longer than one minute to make it to the end of the Skywalk." As to Kirsch's second query, "Oh, I think if you put your mind to it, it doesn't seem strange at all. The Tolerance has an affinity for very old things, and Allsatalos is very old, indeed." Lady Nadjiel shares a sideways smile with Kirsch. "Were certain stories about the castle true, I would imagine they would be quite keen on having an agent here to oversee things. One might even think, the presence of just such an agent would lend those stories a new air of credibility, perhaps?"

As Victor continues to thrill Lady Lilet with his prestidigitation, she says, "See? Why can't more magicians be like you, Victor? Take a little more joy in the, well, the magic of their magic? Don't get me wrong, I think they all can be great fun, but you can just tell it's so humdrum for them is all. It's like pulling teeth to get so much as a little pyrotechnics out of them."

Your noble party and baggage train arrive before the grand edifice of Allsatalos' southern walls. The vibrant pinks and purples as seen from the distance appear duller when up close, the smooth stone, more coarse. The gates are already thrown wide and the footmen leading you fan out and turn, raising their horns they trumpet your arrival in unison. Together you enter the Grand Foyer, marble walls climbing to a high balcony ringing the chamber. Warmth and the smell of chocolate and alcohol and the chatter of idle conversation seep from the open doors to the west. A line of liveried servants await.

A tall, pale elf with stark white hair is conversing with an ill-dressed human in the First Hall beyond the great archway to the north. When the horns blow, the elf turns deep, black eyes upon the new arrivals and waving his hand dismisses the other fellow and stalks forward... to greet you. "Gird your loins, newcomers," Lilet von Bleak says in an uncharacteristically low tone, though still with a chuckle.

"Welcome to Allsatalos, honored guests," the pale elf begins in a preprepared monotone, his livery marking him as a servant of high station. "On behalf of Lady Emalia we are happy to receive you to our festiv—" His gaze settles on the lizardfolk and Victor. "—ities. These men will take you to your rooms, and, if you need, warmth, over there." He distractedly gestures to the western salon off the Grand Foyer.

Your company breaks up and you both notice several of the nobles make a point to step around the pale elf, not coming within an arms-length of him. The question of if this is out of deference or something else is quickly answered because he steps right up to Kirsch and Victor. Once he is so close, the magicians notice a strange, unpleasant sensation. You're no longer so sure of your footing and your mind feels unfocused.

"Well, we certainly have our share of new faces at Allsatalos, today. I am Father Neomund, chaplain and chief steward here, and while I do know the rest of the guests, I am afraid I cannot place either of you, my lords. May I have your names, please, for the castle register?"

The unease you feel as to your focus and footing does not abate with time. It persists, and proximity to Neomund is clearly its source.

Spoiler: Clytemnestra and Megamax

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Spycrist's description of the late elf lord is not suspicious. It's basically what happens to old elves as they approach death, becoming more ethereal and recalling their long lives in impressive detail. It can lead to confusion. The elf lord would have had to have been at least 500-600 years old around the time of his death.

Both of your characters know the previous information I gave in my last post about the Tolerance. Anything further would require a number of Knowledge checks (history/local/religion). If you wish to make them.

If you want (and have no further questions at the moment), I can handwave the trip to your rooms with a minor description. Spycrist will tell you you're already pretty close to the guest suites in the west wing of the castle. And you're on the right floor already.

Spoiler: Victor and Kirsch

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Mechanically, the effects your characters are experiencing are the following: you're standing in difficult terrain and you cannot cast defensively.

[Metastachydium]

Much as I appreciate your warning, Lady Lilet, I can fly if I choose to. the lizard retorts with a sharp, almost hostile tone. He does make a mental note to keep preparing either Feather Fall or Gaseous Form in the following days as well, however. This could get unpleasant quite quickly. At any rate, this could be one of those rare situations where he would deem that Athanas could fare better than himself – Neomund might be more lenient with his own kind, after all, although at this point he doubts that.
Upon hearing Lady Nadjiel's explanation for the „blessed” Father's presence, Kirsch nods and looks away for a moment, as if to watch the scenery, a strange expression of excitement appearing on his face. Perhaps. he says at last. Needless to say, I have heard the rumours and speculations concerning the kind Lady's residence, but I gave little credit to them. Neomund's interest in the place might, however, be telling indeed. It would fit the usual modus operandi of the Tolerance: their current headquarters come to mind. the lizard replies to the elven lady with feigned disinterest. This is it, then. It is true. It is here. Kirsch is about to explode from the joy that fills him. He reminds himself that he must tread carefully, nevertheless. The gate has a guardian. But then, this might of course jut be a strange coincidence. he adds, making a nonchalant waving motion with his right hand.

♣

As Kirsch strolls into the Grand Foyer with infinite grace, Pterygs, who's been circling above the skywalk all along swoops down and darting through the gate she lands beside Kirsch. Kirsch flashes a (this time genuine) smile at his familiar and then takes a few more steps before dramatically striking the ground with his walking stick and raising it up in the air. At first, nothing happens, but then the lizard taps the tiles impatiently with his tail and Innte rushes forward to gently take the walking stick from his hand. Satisfied, he folds his arms behind his scaly back and bidding a quick farewell to Lady Nadjiel, he begins to roam deeper into the hall, only to walk straight into Neomund. So this is the man. he thinks, trying to overcome the strange sensation the proximity of Neomund brought about with a somewhat pained but knowing smile on his face. I see, I see. I know who you are and I know what you are, Father. He forces the previous, serene expression back onto his face and meets the elf's gaze with unblinking orange eyes before speaking out loud. Greetings, Father! That is a reasonable expectation. I am Lord Kirsch son of Kirsch of Likhten's Line. A nobleman of Miessen, as you could, no doubt, tell. Kirsch taps his chest with an open palm again, making sure that his signet ring with the line's coat-of-arms is clearly visible.

[Toliudar]

Clytemnestra

Clearly unhappy but accepting Spycrist's words, Clytemnestra samples and returns his flask without comment or obvious reaction to the strong drink.

"The Tolerance? That might explain a little of Neomund's actions here, but not all. I have many more questions, Spycrist, both about Emalia, and about how you've been yourself. I have too few old friends not to find time with them when I can. But we should let you return to your duties, and I should get cleaned up from the road."

She glances over at Megamax.

"Shall we adjourn to our rooms?"

Spoiler: OOC

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I'm good to pause the conversation here and fast forward through going to our rooms. I feel like we need to give the others a chance to catch up.

In the meantime, though, does Clytemnestra know anything more about the Tolerance? Or about Neomund's seven-horned medallion?
Know arcana: (1d20+14)[33]
Know local: (1d20+7)[18]
Know history: (1d20+7)[19]

[Ripptor]

At hearing that the Tolerance was involved, Megamax gave a displeased shudder. Mages hating mages, hunting them, even killing them in the shadows... The sight of a Tolerance Templar was enough to scare anyone magically inclined. Of course, the presence of the Tolerance gives credence to the rumors of a connection to the Tracery... At the cost of yet one more obstacle in her path, in the name of "preservation". Even Meagan's Red Coven birthright will only shield her so far from the usually confrontational sect, though they'll at least hesitate to offend her. Probably. Or, they'll just score some political points with Mother Enbach by gift-wrapping us, nice and tight. Baubie somehow grunts internally. Megamax gratefully takes Clytemnestra's suggestion. "Truly, this has been so much, all at once. Lets us continue this, later." Meagan reaches into midair for her servant's hand, helping lift her out of the (very deep) chair to follow them to their rooms. Behind them, the flame continues it's dance on the candle, left to it's own devices.

Spoiler: OoC

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Happy to fast-forward and get everyone on the same footing

[Geeksthenewsexy]

Smiling, nodding, and making appropriate 'I'm totally interested in what you're saying - yes, truly' noises as the women gossip, Victor waves dismissively at his coin and it floats over and drops into his pocket once more.

"Ah, well that is because until now we had no occasion to meet. Victor Lustig, at your service sir steward. Graduate of the Acadamy and humble purveyor of arcane magics but currently and much more recently - as in just now as I arrive here, in fact - visitor of my fond acquaintance, Lady Emalia. Having requested my presence, what sort of gentleman can deny a lady such a gracious request, yes? Despite the long and arduous journey at no small risk to myself, I must add. Bandits and highwaymen, you see. Indeed, just so." Nodding with an absentminded middle-of-the-distance stare over the man's shoulder, as if the matter was now settled and he was looking for someone or something, he tips his hat jauntily to the steward. Suddenly feigning mild surprise and raising a hand towards a group of other people and smiling rakishly as if someone familiar had called out to him, Victor begins meandering around and away from the stewart in their direction, deftly and smoothly switching his cane to his dominant hand as he begins moving.

Spoiler: OOC

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False Reputation (Ex): Every good charlatan knows that her reputation must precede her. Spreading tales of her greatness far and wide, she creates the facade of her legendary stature as a spellcaster. Anyone inquiring after the charlatan with a bardic knowledge, Gather Information, or Knowledge check turns up false tales; gossip, and specific "facts" which corroborate her claim to greatness unless the check result exceeds the DC by 10 or more.
B̶a̶m̶b̶o̶o̶z̶l̶e̶ Bluff: (1d20+16)[36] - to make his 'escape' excuse believable enough to get away from the man without seeming to be trying to... well... get away from the man.

[Erelamar]

Clytemnestra and Megamax (Servants' Lounge to Guest Suites)

"Good, good. Gives everyone a little break." Spycrist nods and stands and goes to the door, cracking it open and checking the corridor. Satisfied, he opens the door and holds it for the magicians as they exit the servants' lounge, closing it again behind them.

Spycrist takes the lead, scuttling along the empty hallway which quickly turns north as you enter the west wing of the castle. There is the smell of roasted meat and crusty bread along with the clamor of people and plates. A droning voice reads aloud a list of duties: spare linens which need to be washed, polishing the fine knives and forks for the banquet's dinner service tomorrow night, the grand ballroom floor needs scouring (followed with a chorus of groans), etc. Spycrist ushers you past the closed door from where all this loud commotion is leaking.

During your trip, you've seen two more of the tight spiral staircases built into the walls. The first both ascends (likely into the southwestern, corner tower of the castle) and descends. The second merely takes you back down to the ground level, and Spycrist waves that one away as leading to the servants' bunks, offices, and the dungeon. Finally, the corridor cuts west a bit more and you leave behind the windows looking out over the orderly, geometric courtyard garden. It dead-ends in a door, which Spycrist peeks out, then leads you through.

This new north-south running hallway is again grand and marble-walled with a thick red runner along the floor. Tall, narrow windows look west out over a sheer thousand-foot drop to the Titanspire Mountains lining the horizon. There is a door immediately to the south where this new hall terminates, and the old retainer informs you it is the spa.

Going north, you hear voices from far up ahead where the way turns back east: nobles laughing and talking, servants lugging bags. Spycrist brings you both to the first two sets of doors. Taking the key out of the lock from both and handing one to each of the magicians. "These are pretty good suites, if'n I remember. When you're ready to get back to the party, just follow this here hall north, and it'll wrap you back 'round to the First Hall with the big stairs. The Lady's likely to appear in the Grand Meeting Hall at seven-ish? That's what..." He looks out the window, gauging the setting sun. "Three hours, thereabouts? We might not get to talking again before you see her, so I'll just say good luck. I got faith in the both of you to come up with something, smart-as-whips you are... I'll try and see if I can put Kotoba or any others that might've showed up in those rooms." He points to the door across from Clytemnestra's suite and to another eastside room down the hall. With that, he bobs his head, and hurries to the servant's door and disappears back the way you came.

Spoiler: Guest Suite Description

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Both are laid out a bit differently, but basically, they are suites of partitioned chambers: sitting areas, dining nooks, and washrooms. Each sleeping area has an enormous four-poster bed, teak wardrobes, and dressing tables. Fine elven-made wicker baskets hold soaps, oils, and lotions. A braided rope hanging from a hole in the wall bears a plaque with the words, Pull for Service in both Common and Elvish. Both of your rooms' east-facing windows look out over the western courtyard garden.

Kirsch and Victor (with Neomund in the Grand Foyer)

Father Neomund steps aside as Victor briskly walks away to the larger gathering of nobles in the western salon. The steward does not see to whom the magician hails, and in fact, does not take the trouble to even see if Victor actually enters that room or swerves to have a servant lead him to his guest suite; none of that bothers Neomund, instead...

Kirsch watches as the snow elf before him seemingly stares off into space for a moment, clearly in thought. Then he says but one word, "Requested?" He turns back and lets his gaze settle first on Ptergys then it shifts back to scaly magician.

"And you, Lord Kirsch, son of Kirsch of Likhten's Line, of Miessen, did someone request your attendance at our little event, too?" Father Neomund studies the noble lizardman with a hawkish intensity every bit the equal of Ptergys'.

[Metastachydium]

Tell the elf that I don't like him. Pterygs says grumpily when the steward begins to eye her and Kirsch. The magician ignores her comment for the moment, hiding his annoyance over Victor's ill-conceived boasting with a pleasant smile. That pompous buffoon should learn when to keep his mouth shut. he thinks to himself before addressing Neomund. Why, you seem somewhant tense, Father. Worry not! Victor Lustig is a harmless man and I am reasonably certain that none requested that he present himself here, least of all the kind Lady. Kirsch defiantly returns the steward's gaze, not letting himself intimidated. Neomund might be of the Tolerance, but he is a nobleman with powers that the elf had better fear and envy. As for myself, I deem that it would serve no purpose to try and conceal that I am an old acquaintance of the Lady's and that she would occasionally contact me: in fact, I received a letter from her a few weeks ago that did make mention of this banquet – you could call that an invitation, I suppose. With that in mind, paying a visit to her hardly strikes me as improper, and this little excursion might prove as fruitful as it is to be pleasant: I have wished to see the great library of Spyre for quite some time now, and it is within, so to say, arm's reach now – I presume you appreciate that as a learned man. But I digress. the lizard's polite smile widens somewhat as he elegantly steps back a little. Now, I hope I succeeded in satisfying your curiosity, Father, for I must excuse myself. I would love to refresh myself before the Lady graces us with her presence. Kirsch turns to leave with Pterygs and the servants (who've been patiently waiting a few steps away for their lord to finish his conversation) in tow. Speaking of, when would that be due?

[Geeksthenewsexy]

After meandering away from the steward and his pointed questions, Victor keeps meandering, beaming at people with a delighted smile, throwing out the occasional pithy greeting such as, "Ah, It's good to see you, how was your journey - not too arduous, I hope?", "Oh, I'm so delighted you could attend - it wouldn't be the same without you, truly.", and "My gods, you haven't aged a day! You really must share your secrets with the rest of us." all while keeping in motion, never actually taking part in any real conversations. Leaving slightly confused people wondering where the man might know him from and was he talking to them or someone near them...? He doesn't stay in any one place long enough to ascertain that, though - seemingly always on his way to talk to someone else (though it is hard to tell who, exactly), but more than polite enough to show absolute delight in having seen them. Or someone near them? It's difficult to tell, actually...

Spoiler: OOC

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Goal: If enough people in the same place think that everyone else knows you, more people will be inclined to play into the assumption that they know you too because no one likes to feel/look stupid or uninformed - especially in high society.
S̶c̶h̶m̶o̶o̶z̶e̶ Bluff Check: (1d20+16)[17] In case it's needed (let me know if/when you want more than 1 roll).

[Erelamar]

Kirsch (being escorted to his guest suite)

"Around seven o'clock in the Grand Meeting Hall. I am sure, no one will miss her entrance." The snow elf reluctantly steps aside to let Kirsch pass. "One more thing, Lord Kirsch: guests at Allsatalos are to confine themselves between their suites, this southern wing, and the corridors in-between. Anywhere else you may wish to go, you will be escorted. The castle is very old. It is easy to become lost, and there are many locked doors which are locked for good reason."

Kirsch and his escorts leave the steward behind and venture deeper into Allsatalos, but not before overhearing Father Neomund begin grilling one of the loitering footmen, "Did one of you take them up? Who? Who? The girl with the horns and the scar-faced elf." There are some noncommital grunts, and the snow elf turns in a huff and walks off down the hallway leading east from Grand Foyer.

Through the northern archway, the magician enters the First Hall where two mighty staircases rise up several floors to a distant buttressed ceiling of pastel crystals. To the east is a large portico open to a courtyard garden of wisteria and still ponds and unearthly beautiful grass. A wide, northern corridor on the ground level continues deeper into the citadel of the castle; it is less lit, colder, and more austere than anything previously encountered. Neither servants nor guests approach it.

A liveried servant snaps to at the mention of Kirsch's guest suite. He leads the magician's party up one wide flight of stairs to the first landing where there are a set of grand double doors and two hallways leading north into the citadel. A balustrade to the east looks out over the same wisteria garden, and an archway to the south leads to the balcony above the Grand Foyer.

Your guide takes the western northbound corridor, the windows looking down on a different, more geometric courtyard garden. You pass another set of grand doors and yet another more curious still, a metal door seemingly fused shut entirely. Its once impressive built-in lock completely melted over to show no signs of a keyhole.

At the corner where the hallway turns left and you would enter the west wing of the castle, another servant comes running up behind you. "Ahem, ahem. Pardon, pardon me, yes thank you, pardon me," the young human man says, bowing in turn to Kirsch, his porters, and even Pterygs. He places a folded letter into the guide's hand, whispering to him, "From the old, bald one." Then bowing again to everyone, scurries back the way he came.

Your guide reads the letter, seems a bit surprised. Looks at Kirsch, looks back at the letter, then folds it and slips it into his pocket. He apologizes for the interruption and offers to continue on your way. Despite passing many doors still bearing keys in their locks, he takes Kirsch all the way to the end of the hall, turning left back south where the windows now look out to the east over the Titanspine Mountains. He, at last, bring you to the single western chamber, which through the windows you can see enters a turret projecting from the wall of the castle, suspended over the thousand-foot drop to the valley far below.

"This is not one of our grandest suites, I'm afraid, my lord. There, uh, seems to be a shortage. But after you have settled in, someone can take your attendants down to find lodging with the castle's servants. They will be but a rope-pull away," he offers, throwing up the doors to the room and handing Kirsch the key.

Spoiler: Guest Suite Description

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One massive round chamber with a sitting area, enormous four-poster bed, teak wardrobes, and dressing tables. A five-section screen to one side provides privacy for changing clothes and ablutions. A braided rope hanging from a hole in the wall bears a plaque with the words, Pull for Service in both Common and Elvish. A dozen windows give a breathtaking panoramic view of the valley and Titanspine Mountains.

Victor (mingling in the Western Salon)

The salon is warmed by a small fireplace, a window in the north of the room looks out over a courtyard garden: low, geometric, and surrounded by the walls of the castle. A door in the west constantly swings open back and forth as servants bring forth platters of tiny delicious-looking morsels from what is clearly the kitchen beyond.

Victor manages to whip up a minor whirlwind of fascination about himself, bamboozling a fair share of nobles in the process until one shiny, bejeweled arm hooks his. "This is the one I was telling you about!" says Lady Lilet tugging Victor to come face-to-face with a bow-legged aristocrat and his airy female companion. Unlike the others, when he attempts to slip away, Lilet von Bleak holds on a little tighter, and says through her toothy grin, "You're not talking to anybody."

She presents the two standing before the magician, "Victor, this is Mazlowe Carn and Isabelle of Corg, my longtime friends. Listen you two, this one here is the real deal. Not those showmen Emalia brings in, but a real wizard. He graduated from the Incrementon!" which is followed by ooohs and aaahs.

Mazlowe and Isabelle speak as if they share the same brain, finishing each other thoughts, "My-my, did you come all the way from Gleam?" "Well, he must have, look how sharply he is dressed." "Oh, I've so wanted to go to the City of Embassies but how does one find the time?" "One doesn't, you know. Hard enough to get to Sandrine twice a year." "Tell us, how was your trip? Which road did you take?" "Were you on one of my barges, old sport? Really, the first-class cabins make all the difference."

As Victor attempts to answer the hailstorm of questions, Lady Lilet is looking over his shoulder back into the Grand Foyer, perhaps a little upward. "I say, what is that bald gaffer doing?" Victor sees nothing strange at first but then following Lilet's gaze upward to the balcony above the Grand Foyer, he sees Spycrist—Lady Emalia's old retainer—at the railing. He doesn't seem to be doing anything, just looking over the crowd nonchalantly. "I swear he was trying to get my attention just a moment ago."

The pair of aristocrats immediately gush forth words once more, "Oh, him? Strange one, isn't he?" "He's Lady Emalia's from, wherever it is she's from." "Follows her around like a dog, really." "We should any of us be so lucky as to have a servant like that. Did I ever tell you about my old Cecil, worked for my father before me..."

Mazlowe and Isabelle manage to distract Lady Lilet away from Spycrist and at that moment only Victor is observing him and, without looking directly the magician's way, he makes certain subtle gestures: points toward the swinging door to the kitchen, climbing something, then covers his eyes. With that, the aged cohort does look straight at Victor, expectantly, then walks off out of sight.

Spoiler: OOC

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Spycrist is having something of a time navigating Kirsch and Victor's spot modifiers.

Spoiler: Victor

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Even with a poor roll, Victor does fool the majority of nobles. Just not Lady Lilet, who for the first time, your character may begin to believe she's a bit more shrewd than she lets on. As to the Incrementon, whether she misheard you, or is confused, or is trying to upsell you to her friends is up in the air.

If you want, before you post you can roll a Sense Motive check in the OOC and I can maybe give you a better understanding of what Spycrist is pantomiming.

Spoiler: Clytemnestra and Megamax

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While Megamax is too busy to notice, Clytemnestra likely hears talking in the hallway outside her suite.

[Metastachydium]

Spoiler: OOC

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Spycrist is having something of a time navigating Kirsch and Victor's spot modifiers.

Spoiler: OOC

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Did you factor in the +5 from Kirsch having a hawk familiar close by?

Kirsch nods along appreciatively as the steward answers his question; when Neomund adds his little comment, however, he stiffens somewhat and a quick, excited chill runs along his spine. He has to take a conscious effort to steady his breath. If it hasn't been wholly evident up to this point, it is now. This confirms the idle gossip of the ladies. The elf is hiding something, or rather the castle is. Thank you, Father. I shall keep that in mind. he says with a courteous tone, and with that he takes his leave, folding his arms behind his back again. When the sounds of Neomund's chastising a servant reach his earholes, his scales darken for a second before regaining their brilliant lustre. He needs the guardian at ease. This nervosity might work against him and whoever the elf referred to might very well be competition, and indeed a more worrisome one than Lustig.

♣

As he is lead through the halls and corridors, pleasing as he finds them to the eye, the lizard pays little attention to the lofty decorations, the garden or the scenery visible through the windows, focusing on taking a mental note of anything less usual, such as the dimly lit, empty corridor and especially the strange, melted door. He will have to figure out where the wine cellar would be as well – it might be of interest if Neomund didn't want people to delve into it, but that can wait. For now, he must not get any more intrusive than absolutely necessary.

♣

When the clumsy, noisy servant catches up with the group, Kirsch lets out a barely audible, irritated snort. The man must be new to the job or improperly trained. Pterygs, on the other hand, is alot more satisfied with this turn of events: she radiates pride when the servant bows to her (Why can't everyone have such beautiful manners as that? she wonders out loud).
The mysterious sender of the latter does catch the lizard's attention as well, nevertheless, as does the surprise on his guide's face as he goes through the message. A knight of the Tolerance. A girl with horns. A scar-faced elf. The old, bald one. Lustig, and who knows who else. This little play is beginning to have a slight bit too many actors with unclear roles for his taste.

♣

Upon reaching his room-to-be, Kirsch unfolds his arm, and takes the key from their guide, taking care not to touch his hand. That is certainly understandable, if unfortunate, given the scale of this event. That could be as straightforward as that, but the row of seemingly empty rooms they've just passed by, the mysterious message gives him some pause. The lizard tacitly curses himself for not preparing Detect Magic today and stares intently into the face of the guide for a second, hoping he could, perhaps, intuit the meaning of this before entering the room and walkig across to a window opposite to the entrance to look out while Innte and Harel deposit his bag, walking stick and crossbow inside the chamber. Once the noises of their going about that business die down, the magician turns around to see Pterygs happily perched atop one of the bed's posts and the two servants standing blank-faced by the door, with straight backs and slightly bowed heads. It is possible that I shall have need of you, sooner than later. Stay ready, stay sharp. he tells the two, dismissing them with lazy gesture of his clawed left hand. My Lord. Innte and Harel bow themselves and retreat through the door. Now alone, the lizard thoughtfully sinks into an armchair (which, to his annoyance, is somewhat large for him) and looks up to his familiar. You've been ignoring me ever since we've reached that bridge thing. Is this some ploy again? Pterygs asked, her tone making clear that she's merely curious rather than angry. Yes, Pterygs, it was a deliberate move on my part. Kirsch answers, inspecting his right-hand claws again. Cool. And what's next on our agenda? Pterygs flaps her wings excitedly. For now, we wait.

Spoiler: Checks.

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Sense Motive check for when the guide tells Kirsch that all the good rooms are taken: (1d20+2)[21]d

[Toliudar]

Clytemnestra

Clytemnestra pauses to pull Spycrist in for a hug, then nods more formally.

"I'll look forward to an opportunity for a more expansive catch-up later."

Pausing by her door, she turns back to Megamax.

"I'll need just a few minutes to unpack and prepare to rejoin the group. I would feel more comfortable doing so in the company of one of your social graces. Would that be acceptable to you, Meaghan?"

Spoiler: OOC

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If Megamax is willing to wait, Clytemnestra will need just a few minutes to change into her party clothes, Prestidigitize everything clean and fresh again, and head back to the party. She's not over-much worried about sweeping her room for weirdness, figuring that she can do that later.

Clytemnestra will pull the pull for service rope as soon as she finds it, both to find out the response time of servants here, and to request a wake-up call for seven in the morning.

[Ripptor]

Seeing Clytemnestra hug Spycrist makes Megamax blush slightly, then turn her head away. Looking into at her own room, she spies some lotions and oils and immediately agrees with Clytemnestra's suggestion. "Yes, lets us settle in and then rejoin the others, together. A bit of brandied hot cocoa is quite called for after that skywalk." Meagan wanders inside to collect herself after the journey and the conversation.

Spoiler: OoC

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Going to unpack + get ready, then jump back into the hot-cocoa-clubroom, if we have time!

[Geeksthenewsexy]

At Lilet's quiet comment, Victor murmurs softly to her through teethed pressed together in a wide smile at the approaching Mazlowe Carn and Isabelle of Corg, "Ah, well of course not - you've ruined me, madam. Speaking with you first was like having dessert before sitting down to dinner." Bowing with a flourish as he is introduced, his already straight back seems to stiffen slightly at the mention of the Incrementon.

Rising and waving dismissively as if it were a trifle, he half-corrects the lady, "Ah, well, I've studied at and traveled to a myriad of places. I never understood the practice of tying one's learning to one school of thought that everyone else simply memorizes by rote. How is anyone to come up with new ideas if they simply learn to parrot the same old patterns that all generations before them did? All formulas and rote practices, wholely lacking in mystery and true discovery. Only when you broaden your mind's palate does it refine itself towards innovation. Never settling for 'the standard' of anything in life is how true progress and innovation occur, in my estimation. Which is why I find myself drawn to Lady Lilet's company, I'm sure."

Attempting to defuse and redirect the current topic, he coos and makes agreeable musing sounds as they gush about whoever 'old Cecil' is and takes the opportunity to shift his prestidigitation spell to make the fragile form of a small, cup. Murmuring something quietly about 'fresh tea', he prepares to make an apologetic face to anyone who tries to catch his attention, holding out his faux cup as if on a mission to re-fill it and makes towards the kitchen as unobtrusive a manner as possible.

Spoiler: OOC

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Profession (Actor) check (1d20+7)[8] if necessary to 'act natural'.
Move Silently check (1d20+5)[13] to attempt to slip away without making enough noise to call attention to himself.
Hide check (1d20+5)[17] to attempt to slip away with a minimum of exaggerated movement as to not call attention to himself.
Bluff check (1d20+16)[31] to attempt to convince anyone who does see him that he is obviously fetching some tea for a cup that is definitely not a fake or odd in any way.

[Erelamar]

Victor (in the Western Salon}

Lady Lilet beams with delight at Victor's sweet words. Mazlowe and Isabelle seem bewildered by the magician's schooling explanation but it doesn't deter them from continuing to jabber about almost nothing at all. It feels more for each other's benefit than for anyone else.

When Isabelle sets in on "old Cecil" (who it can be gathered was a rather exceptional servant, though now either retired or deceased—there doesn't seem to be a difference to the nobles' minds), Victor manages to disentangle himself from Lady Lilet and she swaps out an empty mug for a fresh one off a passing server, saying in the meantime, "My lady's maid, Estefania is the same way. Oh, I don't know what will happen when she's gone. Perhaps that job opportunity I mentioned on the Skywalk can come to fruition yet, Vic—Victor?"

"He went to get some tea." Isabelle finally falls out of sync with Mazlowe, but only for a second, "Did he? I must have missed that." "Yes, yes, tea. Perhaps he's a teetotaller?" And Mazlowe Carn laughs at his own joke, such as it was. "Really, doesn't strike me as being the obstinate type." "Abstinent, dear. Anyway, back to Cecil..."

Though a few other nobles do take notice of Victor's passing, none seem to think anything of it. As for the harried servants, one actually holds the door to the kitchen for him. Beyond is a ceramic tiled room of many tables and stone storage cupboards that emit blasts of frosty air when opened. White-aproned gnome cooks sweat over magically heated hot plates and stoves; balancing on their stools, they spin back and forth as they assemble delicate morsels on the trays hovered over by waiting servers. Victor would think the kitchens would be bigger for a castle the size of Allsatalos; there is perhaps another larger one somewhere else.

Everyone takes the teacup at face value but they all seem too busy to actually help Victor find a kettle. The only exits from the room are the door back to the western salon, another open door to the north that looks out to a pergola, and beyond that to the eastern courtyard garden with its low-set flowers in geometric planters, and, the southwest corner of the kitchen—the literal furthest spot from where Victor currently stands—where is situated a tight, spiral staircase set into the thick wall of the castle. The steps lead only upward.

Clytemnestra (in her guest suite)

After pulling the braided rope to summon a servant, Clytemnestra has to wait but five minutes before there is a knock on her door. A bright-eyed elf listens to her request for a wake-up call and writes it down on a pad. He mentions a light breakfast can be brought up at that time if the "Lady" would like...

Once he has his answer, he departs back southward, presumably to the servants' door at the end of the hallway that Spycrist, Megamax, and herself used but a little while ago. One more thing does catch the elf magician's attention. Peering into the hall outside her room, the door to the guest suite across from her own no longer has a key in the lock.

[Metastachydium]

Quickly contradicting himself, Kirsch spends no more than a minute in his armchair. He springs to his feet, startling Pterygs and makes his way to the rope the guide told him to pull were he to need his servants and pulls it. He had enough time to think things through, and something does not add up. It would seem that someone (and assuming the lying guide followed instructions laid out in the mystery message that someone is likely the old, bald one) wanted him to end up in this room for some reason yet unclear to him. It might be the steward's doing. He can't be careful enough.

♣

Spoiler: OOC

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I'll boldly assume he too can get a servant in five minutes and it will be one of his own as the guide promised. Feel free to retcon those that follow if any of those assumptions is incorrect.

Once Harel arrives, the magicians bids him to enter and beckons to him to lean in closer. You will stand watch by the door and notify me immediately if you find that someone so much as appears to be watching it or in case someone leaves either of the two occupied rooms opposite mine, especially if they are elderly and bald, have horns, scars or if they do not strike you as noble guests of the castle. Feel free to enter without knocking. he tells the man unceremoniously and in a hushed tone, making sure that he formulates the command simply enough for the servant to understand. That is all for now. he adds, motioning towards the entrance. My Lord. Harel bows his head and steps outside, closing the door behind himself. It's ON! Pterygs squeaks with unmistakable joy, still from atop the bedpost. Kirsch looks up and flashes a smile to her before he disappears behind the screen to get ready for the evening.

[Geeksthenewsexy]

Victor's faux tea cup starts shrinking to an even smaller size until it can be palmed in one hand before he allows it to dissipate there, out of view. Catching sight of the stairway, he glances briefly at the gnomes busy practicing the culinary arts and a hint of a bemused smile crosses his face before he fixes his face into a mask of mild panic and begins walking briskly towards the stairs. Readying a response in his mind should anyone attempt to stop him, he otherwise strides towards the stairs with falsified alacrity. This interesting Spycrist fellow presents a mystery to solve, but most importantly an escape from Lady Lilet. Excellent timing, in Victor's mind.

Spoiler: OOC

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The response he has prepared should anyone stop him is to blurt hurriedly (in as panicked a voice as he can manage), "They lied! They said her husband would not be here! Unless you'd like to clean my very life's blood out of the nooks and crannies of all the salon's fine furnishings tonight, you must pretend that I was never here! It doesn't matter who asks, I beg you!" and quicken his pace while glancing back at the door he came in from with a striken look on his face.

Bluff Check (1d20+16)[21] if he needs to actually employ his readied cover story.

[Toliudar]

Clytemnestra

Clytemnestra thanks the elven servant, speaking in the old tongue, and offers a gold coin in a way that allows the man to either take it or decline it without needing to say anything.

Stepping out into the hallway, Clytemnestra notes that the guest room opposite has now been claimed - or, perhaps, that its key has been stolen. She smiles at the thought of wandering up the hallway, pocketing the rooms of those who stayed below to partake of the repast.

Hm. Chocolate.

Moving heavily over to Meaghan's door, Clytemnestra raps twice, lightly, with the head of her staff.

"Shall we?"

[Ripptor]

Meagan wraps up her preparations, double-checking her weapons and instruments before reseating each of them tightly back where they belong. Between the Tolerance, the Tracery's unknown defenses, and the heightened political play, she's feeling a bit more on edge than she expected. As Clytemnestra knocks, she looks herself over in the mirror one last time to ensure she's still as innocent looking as a demon girl can be before her servant opens the doorway for them both. Smiling, Megamax returns to the hallway as her door closes and locks itself behind her, key slipping itself into a vest pocket. "Lets." She glances at the changes as the other bedrooms fill and start staffing their own servants outside the doors. "Hopefully the chocolate is half as good as what the old man had on him!" She walks down the hallway with her, keeping a noble bearing while matching Clytemnestra's pace at her comfort.

Spoiler: OoC

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LMK if you want me to roll SoH to conceal her things, she's got a lot of different modifiers depending on where each one is stored on her body!

Besides that, just a Spot check to notice a certain staffer noticing her, if afforded:
Spot the Spotter! - (1d20+16)[27]

[Erelamar]

Clytemnestra and Megamax (beginning the walk back to the South Wing)

Having not quite been ready, Clytemnestra returns to her room after dismissing the elven page (he did not seem to take notice of the gratuity... at least this time). But when she reopens the door to the hallway, there is another figure seemingly standing watch outside the room opposite her own. Though this human does not wear the Allsatalos swan livery, he still has the bearing of a servant, though not the posture of an especially well-trained one. You don't remember this one's face among those attending the nobles you climbed the Skywalk with—and a few, like Duke Orbal, didn't seem to bring any attendants at all. He is scanning up and down the corridor as the magician emerges from her room and taking one look at the elf's face, blinks, then averts his gaze.

Anyway, Clytemnestra collects Megamax and they proceed together northward in this corridor; though the route is unfamiliar it shouldn't be difficult to find their way back to the Western Salon.

Again, this time for Megamax, there is interest in the human servant's face. Before the magicians are very far past him though they can hear the latch on the door open, and glancing back the servant retreats inside, a faint throaty whisper of "Master, master..." is all that can be heard before the door snaps shut behind him.

Victor (in the Lesser Kitchen)

Victor manages his way through the organized chaos. The servers do not move to stop him, most press themselves up against the counters to get out of his way, so accustomed are they to obedience. But one of the gnome cooks—the fattest one with the highly manicured beard—bobbing on his stool turns and calls out in a reedy voice, "Hey, where's that one going?" This does get the servers' attention, and more and more eyes start to fall upon the magician.

With Victor's sudden gush of explanation, the human and elven servers look horrified but a chorus of thin laughter rises from the cooks' line. The same gnome which had pointed Victor out calls back again, wiping a tear from his eye, "Alright, lover-boy, get yourself up to the next level. Keep to the left, and tell the first page you see 'Chef Quoryn Bricktwist says you're to take me to my room.' " He turns back to the others and barks something in gnomish which causes them to sputter into laughter again. The whole time they never stop chopping, whisking, and sauteeing.

Free from the kitchen, Victor climbs the cramped spiral stairs and at the first landing—the one ending in a narrow corridor going north—he runs directly into Spycrist. "Och, there you are. Come on, up we go; staff dinner's letting out and most will take a different set o' stairs, but the dishes are coming back this way, and I don't want nobody seeing us chat."

Lady Emalia's old cohort takes Victor up higher in the same spiral staircase, all the way to where it terminates in a thick iron door that radiates cold. Occasionally, a gust of wind can be heard howling outside. "This leads to the south wing battlements just below the mechanical guard tower. This is good a place as any to lay low for a minute while things settle down below us—" Almost as if on cue, a rattle of dishes and the chatter of voices echo up the spiral stairs from the second story landing.

Spycrist merely leans against the stone wall and plucks a fancy flask from his breast pocket and takes a sip. He offers it to Victor, listening intently as the clamor from below increases, plates and trays jangling as their bearers descend the steps to the kitchen far below.

The bald retainer begins in a hoarse whisper, "Eh, so how've you been?"

Spoiler: Kirsch

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Harel comes in perhaps five or so minutes after Kirsch had just given him his mission. "Master, master... An elf woman with scars and a woman with horns and pink and purple hair just came out the rooms across from us. They look to be walking back the way we came."

[Metastachydium]

Kirsch was mostly done with washing up when Harel slips back into the room. He listens intently to his report, casting a quick cantrip in the meantime to dry his scales and warm himself up a little and slipping his rings back on his fingers. Thank you, Harel A job well done, overall. I will send for you if the need arises. he dismisses the servant with a vawe of his left hand and turns around, picking up his belt and latching it on, before storming to the window behind the bed and opening it. His mind is elsewhere, however: names spring to it and memories he is not terribly fond of.
These are bad news. He now knows who the horned one is and has a fairly clear idea of who scarface could be. He's not alone in this race anymore.
Pterygs. he calls to his familiar as he makes his way towards the door. Keep watch of the room in my absence. Stay hidden. Were someone to intrude, transmit anger. In the unlikely case that you are discovered, do not engage. I left a window open. Take flight instead and do your best to rejoin me. Pterygs nods along half-heartedly. I get to do the boring stuff. Again. she grumbles but the magician pretends not to even notice and strides out of the room, locking the door behind himself.

♣

Megamax and Clytemnestra hear clawed feet beating against the hallway's floor with a soldierly, even rhythm and then a voice calling after them. Meagan. Ms. Dekatos! Why, it is an absolute delight to happen upon the two of you here. At this rate, Allsatalos is soon to be swimming in magicians. Lustig, of all people, is in attendance as well. If they turn around, they see an all too familiar bipedal lizard, about four feet tall, with brilliant, bright green scales and his arms folded behind his back standing at equal distance from the walls of the corridor. If the predatory smile flashing a multitude of small, pointy teeth is anything to go by, he is not quite absolutely delighted to see them.
Not waiting for an answer, the lizard surges forward to catch up with them, unfolding his arms and extending his right towards his fellow magicians.

Spoiler: Random trivia

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The way Kirsch greeted Lady Nadjiel and Neomund was the Miesener way of being very formal. In Miessen, handshakes are an equally acceptable gesture of greeting others; offering (and accepting) a hand is usually a sign of camarederie.

[Geeksthenewsexy]

Leaning against the wall casually, he takes his queue from the man and adopting the role of long-term casual acquaintance and shrugs slightly. "I took the low road here, so there were the usual bandits and highwaymen. It added a bit of spice to an otherwise bland journey - you know how it is." Smiling slightly, he twirls his cane in lazy circle in one hand. "I really must thank you for the timely escape from Lady Lilet. She's a woman with a rather...hm...strong personality, we'll say. I do hope the husband she spoke of is alive and full of...hm...vigor. I fully intend to leave the same way I came - unentangled." Accepting the flask, Victor nods graciously and lifts the flask in a casual toast to his own hopes and takes a small pull from it before handing it back.

[Ripptor]

Megamax beams at Kirsch, taking his hand in both hers for a short shake before pulling him in arm-in-arm with herself down the hallway. "So we meet again! Kirsch and Victor, why they are just inviting anyone to this party, aren't they? Speaking of which..." Acting oblivious to her own light slight, Megamax looks over her shoulder before spreading it a little thinner, "You haven't seen Kotoba, have you? The old man was with us at the gates earlier. Fell into the crowd, somewhere..." Without waiting for a response, (and having looked around them for listeners), she snaps her head back to Kirsch, walking around him to switch to holding his left arm before leaning her face in close for a new topic. "Swimming in mages may be the last thing Allsatalos wants, it turns out." Leaning in even closes for a whisper, "The Tolerance is watching over Lady Emalia's estate. They appear less than pleased at our presence." Straightening back up, face and body back at a respectful arm-in-arm distance, "I look forward to seeing Lady again, I've not seen her since she dropped me off at Scarthey in Sandrine."

Spoiler: OoC

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A late warning, not that Meagan knows that!

And she can't help herself from a light jab every now and then