[Outside Vers] Ludstone Manor

[Nimh]

Over the past few months the rim of Vers former location had been witness to a flurry of activity. They had come rather suddenly, bringing with them large planks of wood and heavy slabs of stone and marble that hailed from various areas throughout the Empire. What they used, they obtained in larger quantities and all of it they managed to work into the large, sprawling home that began to take shape. The workers maintained a steady pace throughout spring, stopping only when heavy rain and windstorms prevailed, keeping them from galavanting over the higher beams of the building.

It took most of spring and part of Cryxatum for the home to finally be completed and the finishing product appeared well-worth the wait for whoever planned to live there. In the fashion of Vers architecture, the building was tall, climbing up three stories of brick and stone that had been painted a vivacious purple. Ludstone Manor looked every inch an unpolished amethyst decorating the lake rim. The front entrance lay beyond a stone archway that branched off of the circular, pebble-ladden drive. Flowers already in bloom had been planted up the length of the drive and the home, their patchwork colors accenting the purple of the walls. Attached to the side of the mansion was a second smaller structure with a dome roof that gleamed white in the sun. There were no windows to this building and guesses for its use ranged from a temple to honor the gods to a menagerie of assorted exotic beasts.

Even during its construction it was no mystery as to who the owner of such a magnificent piece of art really was. Alexander Ludstone, a native nobleman of Daitterian descent that had departed eras ago to explore the Empire, had arrived with his beautiful, heavily pregnant, Medonian elvish wife Kataryzna to supervise the building in its final stages. Alexander was a well-known pillar throughout the small town and made sure everyone knew just how generous his donations to the Imaden School of Higher Learning and unique exploration expeditions really were. Perhaps the only mystery and rumor surrounding the Ludstone household were the odd noises occasionally heard from within the side building, an occurrence Alexander always smiled about when referenced, assuring guests and acquaintances that the beast in him only came out when he didn't get his way.

Indeed, Alexander was known for his courtesy. Nearly all of his guests, mostly those of whom were well-respected or there because he had invited him, were greeted by a small gaggle of servants, one of whom was a withered old cether Bradwith Tevins, who operated as the resident butler. He was always the first to greet visitors, his wrinkled, sunbeaten face cool, but still maintaining that open quality that seemed to follow halflings. How he managed to open the large, oak door of the manor was a question that rarely went answered, but he did so with what appeared to be little effort whenever the presence of a new arrival was made known to the household. Dressed in simple, but neatly trimmed clothing, Goodman Tevins was always quick to bend slightly at the waist as he gestured guests into the house with an even,"Welcome to Ludstone Manor. Master Ludstone will be with you shortly. In the meantime, is there anything I can get for you?"

[Holland]

As Holland stood in the doorway of the manor, he suddenly felt self-conscious in his tattered robe. He paused slightly before he answered the neatly trimmed doorman. “I have come in response to the summons for assistance in the expedition at foot. I am no warrior as is evident, but I have been known to be able to help keep rations in abundance and can prepare meals in the wild. Does Lord Ludstone require such services?”

Holland wondered if the butler would laugh at the absurdly foolish idea .

[Hsin]

The main movement of trades and people between the score of major cities in the Allerian Empire occurred across a vast network of Imperial Highways. Merchants in Arakmat loaded the province’s expensive luxury good into wagons for transport to the houses of the rich from Nexus Prime to Taralon. Grain flowed eastwards from the farming city of Candaceburg to feed millions of hungry mouths. The hob-nailed boots of the Imperial Legions marched from city to city to enforce the will of the Crown. Information too traveled along with the movement of men and goods, news from such diffuse locals as Eunesia and High Peak. But the highways were expensive to build and maintain. Only the major cities could boast a direct connection to the lattice of paved roads. From the highways split smaller local thoroughfares leading to the thousands of villages and hamlets dotting the vast countryside. Through this vast network moved the smaller merchants and peddlers bringing their wares to their sale territories. Even smaller were the footpaths and trails that provided means for villagers and farmers to move effortlessly from their home to important landmarks and locations. But other things moved through this vast network. Black boots tipped at the toe with dull grey steel stirred up a small cloud of dust with each step down the long, dry path leading to the Ludstone Manor. A small Kemite figure, no more than five feet two inches in high, walked a roundabout route making the best use of the side roads and trails to observe the mansion from a distance. In spite of the summer heat, a long grey formal coat fell from his shoulders the middle of his lower leg. Golden thread highlighted the cuffs and the collar, giving the outfit a look of strangely misplaced opulence. Matching grey trousers covered the lower half of his body, and a crimson shirt peaked from underneath the V formed at the neck by the coat. Each step created the soft cadence of metal striking medal, betraying the suit of elvish steel mesh hidden under the read shirt. Hsin Zhou had not come on a courtesy call.

Dark eyes surveyed the patchwork of flowers lining the long boulevard to the front gate of the mansion. It, and the strange architecture of the building itself, spoke of the opulence and wealth of its owner. His forearms were sheathed in black metal bracers concealing a trio of foot long blades apiece. Soft black leather covered his hands, the smooth inner layer reminding the Kemite of the month spent learning the art of K’tesh in Medonia. In these gloved hands the young mage held the black, leather-wrapped shaft of the Flower of the Grave. The five foot long hardwood hilt was topped by a twenty six inch black elvish-steel blade. The Herald article had expressed in no uncertain terms the desire of the ‘collector’ to see the beast unharmed. But Hsin had learned long ago not the value of self-preservation. Around his belt the Kemite wore a belt carrying an assortment of supplies. One beautifully crafted Esh’lahier dagger bearing a pink pommel stone, and another plainer relative sat on either side of his torso in leather sheaths. Ten ten-centimeter darts sat snugly in their own individual sheaths. Throwing stars, caltrops, even the odd garrote sat in the pair of large pouches on the front of the belt. Around each upper arm, and underneath his coat, sat a quartet of twenty centimeter long needle like bo-shurikens. And finally two throwing daggers were strapped to the lower leg beneath the perfectly creased pants in custom-made sheaths. Without doubt the lion’s share of his small arsenal would prove useless, but again better to have a tool at hand than to perish due to a failure of foresight. It too explained the long coat Hsin wore. He did not relish the prospect of explain to a guard his strange collection.

His face balanced soft curves and sharp angles, untouched by the ravages of an era spent crisscrossing the Empire. The young journeyman’s long black hair had been plaited into a long braid that fell below his shoulders. Again his dark eyes gazed in silent contemplation at the strange building. What had brought him to Vers in the first place? The pursuit of arcanic knowledge and understanding. So why did he come now on a fool’s errand, seeking to capture a dangerous beast for the pleasures and advantage of another? The rank of Journeyman carried with it an implicit understanding that the bearer would seek arcanic knowledge through immersion in the world outside the ivory walls of the laboratory. But a Journeyman also wielded a power that could slay and maim just as easily as it could serve and protect. Most captains and Prefects paled at the mention of a Journeyman seeking experience in their area of responsibility. Finding circumstances where he could unleash the entirety of his power was a rare thing indeed. He paused in front of the heavy oak doors, regarding the halfling with and thin smile. ”Serale, and may Torek rain his blessings down upon you. I have come in response to Lord Ludstone’s request for aid printed in the Herald.”

[Odyleon]

And of course, no party could be complete without everyone's favorite Problem Solver and his loyal mount. And while it remained to be seen whether he actually was everyone's favorite, Odyleon Q. Meiers was his own Number One. Shortly after his Medonian expedition, where he had been able to Unbind an Enchanted Glade thanks to advice bestowed by the Pondertree himself, Ody really needed a vacation. The gods alone knew how much stress was involved in getting that piece of wood out of the Glade's stubborn bark, and while the Human had pretty much recovered from the ordeal that had almost sent him into a nervous breakdown, he wasn't entirely his former self yet. It was difficult to tell perhaps, and only one who knew him very well – that is to say, no-one – would be able to see a difference, but Ody was less of his hyperactive self and more of the pensive one.

Of course, this could very well have something to do with the Pondertree's curse: no sweets for a full era in order to fix some kind of perturbation in his Essence, or something like that. It didn't really matter, it had been worth it, and assuming no major mistake during the rituals, he would have his staff by the end of the Summer. But again, Ody needed a vacation. And for the record, his last vacation had been in the Mines of Demios, battling it out against a gang bent out on conquering Demios. This new undertaking sounded like a picnic in comparison... wait, his last picnic had featured cannibalistic zombie-like creatures, no luck there either.

There was, of course, another reason. The Human had ambitions as a Master of Mysticism, and there was no better way to prove he was worthy of becoming one than actually defeating one. For an Aboleth, it was common knowledge among adventurers and especially in Vers, had immense powers as a Mystic. The fledgling Alchemist had come up with three milestones for him to reach before he could place his bet for Mastery – the Staff, the Masterpiece, and the Trial. The Staff was on its merry way, and he had a fair idea of what his Masterpiece would be like. This would be the Trial.

Mr. Galloper the Friesian horse stared at the Cether butler curiously. "Don't be rude, friend" Ody scolded him half-seriously. His looks were far from formal; the tall, somewhat lanky Medonian's spiky hair was begging the beholder to comb it. Pitch black eyes contrasted sharply with the paleness of his features and his grey tunic, patched up beyond imagination, had surely known better times. The Problem Solver had brought his full arsenal with him and all of his equipment inside Mr. Galloper's saddlebags, but his only really significant asset was safe within his skull.

"Serale, my name is Odyleon Q. Meiers: Problem Solver, Mage, Alchemist, Truthseeker, Investigator, in no particular order." he announced with a smile. "I am here because of Master Ludstone's announcement on the Herald. I believe Master Ludstone could use my services to solve his Problem." This Ludstone character had a somewhat ambiguous reputation surrounding him, but this did not bother Ody in the least; in the worst case scenario, he'd just have to dig up twice as many skeletons as otherwise. Mr. Galloper shook his head as he often did at the start of a new adventure, when his master would drag him into some new crazy life-threatening horror. Humans never learned.

[Nimh]

Holland
Bradwith Tevins had long since developed the intuitive knowledge of when to maintain a serious facade and when it was proper to allow a chuckle to escape his old, puckered mouth. This was one of those moments when he knew better than to laugh in a guest of Master Ludstone's, even if he wasn't exactly what he had requested. "I'm sure Master Ludstone would be glad to accommodate you, sir." In fact, Bradwith was almost positive that Alexander Ludstone hadn't even thought ahead to supplying and feeding the men he intended to send out on this odd little mission. Ludstone was like that.

"Why don't you come right this way? You may wait in the parlor for some refreshments while you wait for Master Ludstone." Bradwith stepped aside, gesturing Holland into the vast hall with its vaulted ceiling. A myriad of colors decorated the frescoes that were strung along the rim of the walls. Festivity was a common theme within Vers and bright colors seemed to go hand in hand with this concept. "Right this way, sir." Bradwith turned on his heels after shutting the door behind him. He strode stiffly down the hall to a door not all that far from the front entrance.

The sitting parlor was a moderately sized room with a white piano tinged with gold paint pushed against the far left wall and an expanse of windows and a pair of glass doors opening out into a garden lining the wall directly across from the doorway. A set of chaise lounging chairs the color of cream and decorated with gold thread were set not too far from the piano a top a cream and yellow. The otherwise marble floor was veined with pale lines of yellow. "Have a seat, sir. A servant will be in shortly with some drinks." Bradwith bowed and left Holland to explore the room, a loud bronze bell peeling through the household with the arrival of another guest.

Hsin
It seemed the hills were full of random odd-balls these days, Bradwith thought with a slight quirk of his lips as he peered over this particular arrival. Of course, he knew better than to open his mouth and say so, especially since he looked the part of the type Ludstone was looking for to hunt down this Arboleth thing. And also since this man looked finely dressed. Perhaps this man was a lord? Who else could afford crimson cloth and gold thread? Bradwith knew those things to be beyond his own means, but to a man with even the smallest stash of wealth...it was possible. And what was that thing in his hands anyway? Bradwith had never seen a weapon quite like it! Master Ludstone wouldn't like it. Not at all. He didn't want that silly beast harmed. Another trinket in his collection, he thought glumly, but his expression remained the same: bland.

"Serale and welcome to Ludstone Manor, my lord." His head dipped in respect, and he gestured for the gentleman to enter the household. Once Hsin chose to enter, for doubtlessly he would unless a sudden change of heart was at hand, Bradwith shut the door behind him and motioned him to follow closely. "Master Ludstone is currently occupied elsewhere in the house, but he has invited any of his visitors to wait in the parlor while he finishes what he is about. I've already sent for some refreshments. You'll find another man has already arrived and is likewise awaiting the presence of Master Ludstone. Right this way." They came to a doorway, a wide, wooden archway that opened into a brightly lit room. The room was clearly done up with a cream and gold theme, the walls a pale yellow trimmed in cream and accented with golden vines that trailed their way up the length of the wall in the four corners. A small, round table of polished mahogany flanked by a pair of yellow, velvet-cushioned chairs made of the same wood sat off to the right of the doorway.

As Bradwith had mentioned, a second man had been left to wander. So far, no trace of any refreshments were found. As Bradwith opened his mouth to speak again, the bell sounded through the house. "Ah, those refreshments should be here momentarily, I'm sure," he assured both Hsin and Holland, then turned abruptly and went to answer the door.

Odyleon
When Bradwith had opened the door for the third time that afternoon, the last thing he had expected was to come face to face with a horse. He had seen many odd things in his life, having worked for Ludstone for many years, but a horse at his door was just one of those things that a halfling could simply not have expected. This certainly put the previous two guests more on the radar of "normal", as he took a small step back with slightly widened, very startled, eyes. It took him a moment to regain his vocal cords and he did so with a loud clearing of his throat. "Ah, serale, sir." Lord didn't seem to be quite the right title, neither did Goodman. He certainly had enough titles to merit being called Lord. Only lords and ladies seemed to out-do this man in front of him.

"Odyleon, was it, sir?" he repeated tentatively, hopeful that he was saying the name correctly. He certainly didn't want to scare anyone away with bad manners. "Please, come in, sir. I believe Master Ludstone is looking for one such as yourself. A Problem Solver. He does have a problem." Of sorts. "Ah, your horse," he murmured suddenly, glancing at the four-legged creature that hovered at Odyleon's side. Bradwith turned away from the door briefly, gesturing to a young boy that lingered in the corridor. "Young Kurin will look after your horse, sir. He's very good with the beasts, if I do recall. He'll do no harm by him, I assure you."

Kurin was young, and human by the looks of him. He was a generic form of those of Daitternian descent around these parts with his pale blond hair, wide, blue eyes, and skin that once mgiht have been pale but now was tinted a bright red from the summer sun. He came over to the door quickly and bowed, although with no obvious skill of courtly manners. At any rate, someone hadn't taken the time to teach him any gentlemanly qualities. "The 'orse will be in good 'ands, soir. I swear t' it on m' mother's grave." He nodded and held his hand out to receive the reins.

Bradwith stood by, waiting for Odyleon to hand the horse over into the boy's custody. As he waited for the decision to be made, he spoke. "Master Ludstone is occupied at the moment, sir, but he shouldn't be long. In the meantime, I've been instructed to allow you and the others to wait in the parlor." Once, and of course if, this was done, he gestured to Odyleon to follow him to the room where Hsin and Holland were already waiting. There, Odyleon would be deposited to wait for the drinks that had been promised, just as the other two had.

ooc: feel free to converse freely

[Holland]

Holland recognized the succinct tone of a polished manservant. He replied “Your words imply your master is adept at the process of selection. I have not eaten today and will gladly accept the refreshment offered.”

Holland placed his staff in front of him and stepped behind it. Following Tevins down the corridor, Holland’s inquisitive eye surveyed the artful scenes around him. Holland liked colors especially blue. His tattered gray robe was overshadowed by the vibrant pictures surrounding him.

The piano was large and gilded. Holland contemplated the arrangements that could come from such an instrument. Outside a thing of beauty, inside the piano had strings pulled to taut limits that resonated at the touch of a finger whether delicate or forceful.

Holland chose a winged-back chair and awaited the servant. In his rooms long ago, he would have sat in a similar chair and entertained guests by the fireplace. Holland heard the bell and listened for the vibrations in the room. He comtemplated having the piano accompany the bell. He sat there imagining the symphony it would create. Holland did nothing. The piano stood silent.

As the new arrivals entered the room, Holland stood as was his custom. He leaned on his stick, “Serale, I am called Holland and carry no second name.”

[Rhyck Thralôm]

Rhyck yawned as he walked. Why he yawned was quite the question to ask, as he had been walking this rough dirt trail for a day and a half already. The suns were high in the sky and if Rhyck had a candle at his disposal, he was sure it would be many candlemarks into the day. Despite this, his muscles demanded an extra large breath of air. Cursing his uncontrollable instincts to survive, the Kemite brought one hand to his mouth in a fist and attempted to restore normal habitary breathing once more. Bored of the stunningly beautiful landscape around him, he took out his ripped section of The Herald. Rhyck had already read through it a dozen times, but couldn't help himself from reading it again. The mansion that belonged to the client spoken of in the paper, Ludstone or sommat, was in sight, and the Kemite was quickly approaching it. So, to perhaps seem highly knowledgable of the man's predicament, and to perhaps be ready for sudden inspiration of what to do, and maybe to perhaps pass the time while walking, he read to himself outloud. It was lucky that no one else seemed to be around on the trail, as it would seem highly questionable for a particularly short, brown Versian to be hollering such words to himself. Not that he didn't always recieve looks of surprise, pity, inquisition, and even disdain every day. That small city of giants might overwhelm another of his stature. But not Rhyck. Besides, halflings were abundant there also, so the Kemite couldn't complain.

Upon reaching the manor, Rhyck did not look on it with great interest or intrigue. He did live in Vers after all. Such architectural wonders were commonplace in the mystical village. Rhyck saw the strange structure attached to the side of the amethyst building, but did not dwell too long wondering what it was. Probably a secret dungeon filled with torture devices that Ludstone would use on the guests that would no doubt be coming from all corners of Telath, right? Right... Rhyck convinced himself that there could not possibly be anything in there that was any more interesting than his own empty house. Rhyck crouched to sniff the flowers recently planted on the drive of the manor, and let a smile cover his slightly dusty face. The trail he had trodded upon was dirty and the wind had picked up a bit the brightening previously.

When he reached the large oak doors, he rolled up his newspaper, having completed it for the fiftieth time, and was about to stick it in his pocket. But, once it got halfway down there, he realized he looked quite silly with a bulging round object protruding from his pants. Therefore, he looked around for somewhere to stash it. He hopped stealthily down to the peat of the garden and commenced covering his newspaper in dirt. Then, once convinced that his Herald was completely undetectable, he strutted over to the doors once more, only to be face with another problem. How was he to announce his arrival? The door was rather large and Rhyck was only a small little Kemite. He hesitantly brought his tiny hand next to the gargantuan portal. Summoning all of his forearm-ish strength, he pounded with his fist upon the doorway. Not long afterwards, he was greeted by a shiveled up old man.

Oh! Rhyck nearly jumped at the sight. But after the quick welcome of the servant, he instantly wiped away the horrified look on his face and transformed it into a broad smile. "Serale, my good sir. I am here about the uh-creature problem Mr. Ludstone has." Rhyck didn't know anything about this so-called "Arboleth," or how it even got into the lake, but he was willing to help out in any way he could. Especially if such assistance could acquaint him with such a renowned figure in Vers. With such connections, Rhyck could possibly advance his social status. And as his goal in life was a politician, it was an obvious plus if he could obtain the blessing of Alexander Ludstone.

[Carly Jr'ana]

Vers, the small magical town appealled to Carly in a way that guady lights attracted children to the travelling circus. An added bonus presented itself in the Imaden School of Higher Learning and Carly's new teacher, and the easily accessible - to the right people - country side of Sherian. Reading the call for able bodied adventurers in the Local Herald, after perusing it from a side alley tea room, Carly figured that this would be a good oppurtunity to seek a substantial reward as well as practise as Ikos skills.

Previously unaware of the lake that stood now where Old Vers once had, the little elf now watched the wind blow gentle waves across its surface from afar. Her feet carried her effortlessly towards the vivacious mansion as she longed to take a dive in those cool welcoming waters. Breaking her line of sight with the shoreline she soon became equally engrossed in the colour of the mansion, having spent a good deal of time in Vers it came as no shock that the mansion would be horribly decorated - a fashion that Carly was quite fond of - but being able to afford purple for the entire exterior meant vast riches beyond reckoning!

Being quick to check over her attire, a pretty black dress embroided with the creeping red vines of some unknown thorny bush, realistic fabric flowers built up over layers of cloth dotted the vines every so often in a burst of blood red. Thinking that perhaps she would show a more professional front if she wore something on her feet the little elf had fished out her seal fur boots and tied them firmly to her dainty ankles. More absurd perhaps was the bright pink wig she had placed atop her head, brushing her hair upwards and away into invisibile oblivion. Against the blueness of her skin the pink provided a stark contrast and altogether she appeared rather eccletic as well as eccentric, if it wasn't for the obviousness of her youth one might take her for an mad woman or perhaps one of the high class nobles of Vers, often one and the same trait given fashion sensibilities.

Raising a tiny blue hand to the front door the little mage gave a hefty knock with as much of her strength as she could muster, after a few moments more she took a boot to the door and delivered a far louder knock. As the door began to open she immediately assumed the role of loftiness she was beginning to perfect through constant use, sniffing at the butler's bow she addressed the hallway rather than the man himself as she thought would be the custom.
"The master of the house requires the services of an Ikomancer, I am here."
Carly found that in her profession the less sense you made outwardly the more magical and powerful you appeared to be.

[Nimh]

Rhyck
Kind and courteous. The cether was rarely anything but these things. It was part of his job description...to maintain his dignity no matter the mood that the man who paid him just so happened to display from day to day. No one realized just how much patience was required for the job of a butler. No one realized how hard it was to stand by and listen to a man berating you while you weren't capable of responding in turn. Bradwith would not have cared if he had seen the kemite bury the paper in Master Ludstone's yard. Well, he might not have approved, but cared? No...not really. It was something quickly remedied and he wouldn't even have to get down on his own hands and knees to take care of the problem. Regardless, they'd find the paper soon enough...and more than likely know that it belonged to one of the oddities that had stopped by in response to Alexander's plea for help.

Well, the response to Bradwith's appearance was one the cether had never particularly received before. He wasn't handsome, certainly, and he was older than he had been...which tends to happen when you grow old, but he had never thought of himself as frightening. Such a reaction might have thrown anyone else off a beat, but he merely took it like a grain of sand. He smiled thinly and gestured the small kemite, although he really wasn't as small as the very slightly hunched halfling. "Come in, sir. Master Ludstone will gladly see you as soon as he can to discuss the 'creature problem'. In the meantime, he has asked that I allow you access to the sitting room for some refreshments. Just follow me."

The walk to the sitting room was short and accented by the echo of footballs against a blue-veined marble floor. The room was decorated with a variety of small marble statues of a similar veined hue and vivid paintings of blond-haired, finely dressed gentlemen with their ladies graced the walls at even intervals. "Right here, sir." Bradwith walked through an arched doorway into a room where others were already gathered. There were not many people there, but enough. "Refreshments will be here shortly, sir." He bowed quickly...having heard another knock resound throughout the hallway. Rhyck was left to make his own conclusions about the people gathered in the room.

Carly
So far the only ones that had responded to the add had been men. Men...and human. Not to mention they had all been of a relatively "decent" age, meaning not too young that their strength wasn't questioned and not too old that the question of feebleness would have come into play. Some clearly looked experienced, while the mere responses some gave when Bradwith had received upon answering the door had made the cether wonder if they would be capable of handling the job. But Carly... Never once had Bradwith thought that a child, a strange-looking elf of sorts, would come in response to Master Ludstone's ad. Bradwith was almost positive that Alexander would be...well...surprised, to say the least.

But at least he didn't have to tilt his head back to inspect the inquirer.

Clearing his throat and fighting back a kind smile, the cether bowed again and gestured the small girl into the hallway. He had humored everyone else so far...why not her? "Of course...miss." How else was he supposed to address the small girl? If she really was what she claimed--an Ikomancer--wasn't there some proper form of address her? What did it really matter in the end? It was Ludstone's problem, not his. "Right this way, Miss. Master Ludstone is busy at the moment and asks that you be patient and wait in the sitting room while he finishes up with some other business. Refreshments should be there..." He trailed off, knowing that he had heard no footfalls of servants making their way into the sitting room where everyone else still waited.

"Well, right this way," he repeated, turning on his feet. His path took him to the same room that everyone else had been lead to: the parlor with the piano against the left wall, the couches in the center, and a small table flanked by a small set of chairs to the right. Wide, glass doors flanked the wall opposite the archway and displayed a balcony with a clear view of a small garden and the not-too-distant lake. "It'll be a moment, miss."

Once more, Bradwith turned and left the guests to mingle.

ooc to all: Talk. Mingle. Something! I'll post your refreshments in a day or two...hopefully after I've seen some mingling!

[Odyleon]

The beasts? The beasts? Good with the beasts? Ody blinked – what beasts? Maybe he was implying that Mr. Galloper was a beast of some kind? He turned his head to the right as far as he could, catching a glimpse of his own upper back, but no beasts he could see. He was probably just hearing things, for to call Mr. Galloper a beast would not be unlike calling a Cether a goblin. The pitch black Friesian did not seem to care either, so Ody had certainly equivocated the sound of the little man's words. These Versians spoke with a very peculiar accent, and misunderstandings happened relatively often.

"Isn't it wonderful, friend, they are offering you some paid vacation time! I'm sure they'll treat you just fine..." he congratulated his companion, but then, as a sudden afterthought crossed his mind, he hurriedly addressed young Kurin: "He likes his water cool but not too cold, and wants to be brushed between the ninth and tenth candlemarks. I do think he has some form of allergy or something to Narimite hay, and no matter what you do, do not – I repeat, do not – show him a scarecrow, dress like a scarecrow or take him anywhere near a scarecrow, unless you're ready to go pursue him all the way to Silrosia. Scarecrows drive him crazy. If you follow my advice, I'm sure you'll get along just fine!"

He smiled as he offered the reins for Kurin to take, and then departed to follow the Cether butler, stopping once to wave his hand at the duo of horse and stable boy, grinning adorably and only slightly creepily as he added: "Or else I might turn you into a chicken, young Kurin!" It was only half true, Ody could not turn anyone into a chicken, but did this really matter when Mysticism could make one believe they were a chicken?

Ahh, the thrill of adventure and the Human's mood was already skyrocketing. Ody could not care less about the drinks, he was hardly a drinker except for that one time in Demios; spring water would suffice to the young Problem Solver. He was far more interested in his soon-to-be associates, to whom he introduced himself with a brief smile and a: "Serale, I'm Odyleon. It's... a nice brightening, eh?" These people, unlike young Kurin, were best treated with respect. Who knew, the right word spoken in front of the wrong listener and he might end up being the chicken.

Speaking of his colleagues, some of them were already in the room, others were dropped in as they came. The man who introduced himself first, Holland, was apparently the most normal-looking individual in the room. Holland was a name he had heard of before, probably some Empire celebrity, but Ody's highly selective knowledge pool suffered from serious gaps in key areas of human learning, history being one such area. Then there was this short Kemite – two of them actually, and with Carly's arrival the room looked like a class going on a field trip with their teachers. The expedition had lured five people already, and the curious Human itched to know who these people were and what aces they had up their sleeves.

"Lalala... lalala-dum-dum, where are you, where are you, I love you, I love you lalala..." Leaning casually on the nearest wall, Ody hummed a few notes from one of the corniest songs he was routinely exposed to, living in such a musical town as Vers, as he let himself drift into Clara to examine the Vis signatures of his companions, nothing more. A quick glance at their sphere and magic levels, if any. What point in asking if you could get the answer yourself, and have fun doing it?

OOC: Holland, if you are the person I think you are, welcome back!

[Holland]

Holland felt his foot tapping to the familiar tune. How many times he had heard the melody in his dreams...before he was alone. He remembered this song in the sweet whispers of his childhood. The words were as familiar as his own name.

Holland acknowledged the bard with a nod of his head. “Does that melody have a name? I seem to recall a similar version...perhaps a lullaby?”

The room had filled, but up to now, no one had much to say. Holland didn’t need to talk, but he liked to listen. Holland’s stomach growled and he hoped no one heard its call of hunger. He walked over to the bard hoping the thud of his staff on the floor would drown out his stomach. He said, “Do you accompany that fine voice with an instrument?”

Ooc: Yes Odyleon, one and the same. Thanks for the welcome. I have missed Alleria and am glad to return to old friends.

[Nimh]

ooc: I'm just going to move along. I know some of you are rather busy I just want to make sure we don't spend too much time on this thread.

People are still free to join, by the way

ic:
There had been a lull as more and more people were ushered into the sitting room. Carly and Rhyck had been the last two, currently, to arrive, leaving the guests to stand about and make their own conversation...maybe get to know one another a little bit. After all, they were going to be embarking on this expedition together. Maybe garnering a little bit of trust in one another was in order. They did not, however, seem very forth-coming in introductions. At least not immediately. This was something that the Lady of the house came to notice almost immediately as she made her way through the doorway and into the sitting room.

The Mistress of Ludstone was, of course, an astonishingly attractive young woman of untainted Medonian Elvish ancestry. Long, curving ears poked through honey-brown hair that she wore curled and loose about a sharply angled face of a pale complexion. Her large, almond-shaped green eyes were set off by the emerald satin gown that hugged slender limbs and a long torso, features that made her appear taller than her mere 5'3". She was, quite noticeably, heavily pregnant. Behind her were two women, one an elderly cether who carried with her a lute and the other a undistinguishable human whose hands carefully grasped a tray upon which a pitcher of lemonade, several glasses, and a small platter of tiny sandwiches were placed.

Although Mistress Ludstone and the cether remained near the doorway, the human servant bustled past the two of them to place the tray of food down on the small table to the left. With her task down, she curtsied to her Mistress and left again.

Smiling, the young woman clasped her hands in front of her, a flash of emeralds and gold gleaming as the sun reflected off her jewelry. "Serale, gentlemen...young lady. I am Kataryzna." She inclined her head slightly, directing a warm smile in Carly's direction. "I apologize for my husband's absence. He will be with us momentarily, I assure you. In the meantime, I brought some sandwiches and lemonade. I hope that will suffice for now. I've already instructed the kitchen on pracenda instructions for later this evening. I hope all of you will stay."

A hand slid around from her front to brace her back as she began to move further into the room. The look on her face made no attempt to hide the discomfort that pushed down on her tiny frame. "I hope you don't mind if I sit. You never realize how much pregnancy affects a person until you have to put up with it yourself." An apologetic smile flashed towards her guests as she waddled over to a couch. The cether remained in the doorway. "Feel free to have some food and drinks, please. I had them made especially for you."

[Rhyck Thralôm]

Rhyck felt an awkward moment pass between the five adventurers before two men spoke up. The first began singing a song, and the second somehow enjoying it. The Kemite didn't really think the man a good singer at all. Not that he was one to judge; his own voice was far inferior. In any case, it didn't seem very logical that he should start singing at the moment. Perhaps it was his way to break the silence, but it sure was a questionable method. The man named Holland... no second name... seemed to be able to play an instrument, and was offering to accompany Odyleon it seemed. Well, wasn't that pleasant... T