The Maison Soloumbre: Afternoon of April 9

Join us for our Halloween celebration
User avatar
Nathan of the FoS
Fiendish Enforcer
Fiendish Enforcer
Posts: 5246
Joined: Fri Nov 28, 2003 3:39 pm
Location: San Francisco CA

The Maison Soloumbre: Afternoon of April 9

Post by Nathan of the FoS »

The crush in the entry hall has abated as Fraternity members dispersed from the foyer for various points of interest; several are examining the library, while others are sampling mint-juleps in the grand ballroom. Marcos Vedarrak and a tall, horse-faced Invidian have retired to the lawn, where they are demonstrating fencing techniques to a small contingent of curious onlookers, while a smaller but more active group is doing calisthenics under the direction of Alfred Larner.

Other brothers are engaged in the more practical pursuits of erecting tents--there will not be space enough in the Maison for the number present, and many do not wish to travel to and from lodgings morning and evening for the duration of the meeting. Efforts here range from the elaborate--several brothers have banded together to erect something that would not be out of place in the Carnival--to the comical, as Brother Perrison's canvas blanket thrown over a line strung between two weeping willows.
[b]FEAR JUSTICE.[/b] :elena:
User avatar
Moral Machivelli
Rat Blinder
Rat Blinder
Posts: 413
Joined: Sun Oct 02, 2005 3:54 pm
Location: Not Here...

Post by Moral Machivelli »

Buchvold wanders the Maison, and it's environs. He has little of interest to do. He has managed to sell a couple of his less expencive items alredy, and is determined to enjoy the afternoon. He stops a little whirle, to watch Marcos Vedarrak and the Invidian fence, but then goes back inside, to the comfort of the grand ballroom.
User avatar
Pamela
Sorority Shadow
Sorority Shadow
Posts: 931
Joined: Tue Sep 13, 2005 3:48 am
Location: Have gun, will travel
Contact:

Post by Pamela »

Too true, Madam ... although not, I should expect, solely by virtue of your gender. Such superficialities carry less import, in Tarokka, than the ignorant are prone to assume. I'll wager at least a couple of our resolutely-masculine colleagues are, even now, perplexed by their own receipt of a feminized significator; indeed, I'd dare to hope they're quite put out by it!" He tips a rascally wink to the Zherisian, aware how sorely she must resent the Fraternity's chauvinists.
“The resolutely masculine, as you call them, are also generally among the first to dismiss all this as hogwash anyways,” Gertrude rsaid to Crow. “But I’ll now have to assuage my own presumptive ignorance and read up on this.” She folded her slip up, noting the bard’s silence about his own despite his dismissive comments. She was curious, but not offended- how could she be, considering her lack of knowledge about the cards?
"But fitting, nonetheless ... for your invitation has most certainly tempted me, Professor. If I may?"
“But of course,” she remarked with a smile, and accepted his arm. She lowered her veil when they stepped outside once more, an unconscious gesture after her few days here. She took in the hubbub of activities, and laughed when she saw the calisthenics. It reminded her of the public exercises held at the Temple and the University. “Oh Crow, it’s Esteemed Brother Larner! My husband had written that he was on his way.” Her smile grew sunnier at the thought of home. She looked at the bard with an open grin and said, “Shall we join them? A healthy mind in a healthy body after all…”
His only real danger is if stupidity is contagious and lethal. In which case, we’re all dead…-Gertrude
User avatar
Rotipher of the FoS
Thieving Crow
Thieving Crow
Posts: 4683
Joined: Sat Dec 06, 2003 4:18 pm

Post by Rotipher of the FoS »

The temperature out-of-doors has shot up considerably since he'd left Duchamps' homestead, and the brilliant sunlight on the front lawns briefly dazzles the bard's eyes. Have to make a note to relieve my next poker-mark of his hat, not just his outerwear and boots, Crow muses, as he shields his gaze with one uplifted hand and escorts the lady professor onto the grass with the other.

Noting his difficulty, the gracious Zherisian (of course!) at once takes the lead, shepherding the squinting spy to a nearby folding-table where the servants have begun setting out drinks -- ah, that's where they'd hidden the lemonade -- then to the array of wrought-iron lawn chairs to one side of the walkway. Unhindered by the glare in her mosquito-net-draped hat, Kingsley points out a few 'celebrities' amongst the milling Brethren on the lawn, between sips of her own drink. The bard, for his part, chuckles at her witty remarks and voices abundant gratitude for her help, while his eyes adjust ... and scrawls copious mental notes, all the while, his roster of FoS attendees growing alarmingly by the minute.

(Blast it, Van Rijn has to have agents among them, potentially even enough to wreak havoc a second time ... and what of those branches left behind, and understrength, in other realms? How many of those might the lich strike out against, in the critical days to come? The Fraternity of Shadows took it far too much for granted, that their undead enemies' maneuvers would remain wholly reactive; it was the same conceit-born strategical error -- a contemptuous underestimation of an opponent's capacity to sieze the initiative -- which Crow, himself, had exploited on his Society's behalf, six months ago.)

After a short interlude, to savor their drinks -- chilled, too, even though Souragne's tepid swampiness was ill-suited to cold wells; yet another hint that the relocated Fraternity cell wasn't shy in their use of arcane magics in moderation -- and to observe the tent-building and exercises in progress, the bard deftly interlaces his one necessarily-delicate question into the weft and weave of their chat:

"And... your husband? Might the worthy Brother Kingsley's presence likewise grace our gathering, this year...?" An idle question, or so it might seem -- asked in passing, as if it'd only just crossed his mind -- to the ingenuous listener....

Taking her cue like a maestro, the Paridoner's response is perfect: non-committal, dispassionate, placid. Also in the negative: no, her dearest Rupert's academic duties could not spare him at present.

"Pity," Crow replies, just as non-committally. "I should have much liked to meet a man of such distinction, such ... good fortune."

The bard's right hand, previously propped upon his chair's arm only a few inches from Kingsley's, draws back into his lap. He tips his lemonade glass towards her -- a slight, and slightly-regretful, toast -- then leans back to scan the Maison's grounds.

(A sally rebuffed, and a rejection respectfully acknowledged, in a less gullible observer's eyes. A pantomime only, on the spy's part ... but it would account for Crow's continued attentiveness to Kingsley, in the days ahead, if she and her superiors suspected his interest to be more than academic. The Fraternity's ideology lauded mind over body -- they'd not dismiss the possibility, for reasons of age-difference, alone -- and if they ... or she ... believed he masked some stymied romantic attraction, his real cause for seeking her company would be all the better concealed.)

The Prison, as her third card as well? Still wildly unlikely ... but perhaps Perrison's efforts do merit a wee bit more thought....

Noting the odd Brother Perrison busying himself across the way, in the willow-grove abutting the old plantation's cemetary, the bard fans himself with his programme and points to a shadier spot, well out of the crowd and not far from the strange Brother's makeshift 'tent'.

"Speaking of fortunes," he resumes, letting the intimacy of the previous moments evaporate. "You'd asked as to the prognosticatory significance of your 'hand' of five? No Vistana, I ... but if you're willing to credence what-little expertise folk tales and the ramblings of superstitious card-sharps have afforded me, I'll do my best. What say we decamp to the shade of those trees, for a bit more comfort and privacy? Those are stone benches aligned at the cemetary's edge, if my eyes aren't deceiving me, and will likely offer a cooler seat than wrought iron.

"Purely to ensure you're not embarassed, Madam," he holds up a palm, pledging his best behavior, "we'll be in full view to all, just out of the jumble."
"Who [u]cares[/u] what the Dark Powers are? They're [i]bastards![/i] That's all I need to know of them." -- Crow
User avatar
Pamela
Sorority Shadow
Sorority Shadow
Posts: 931
Joined: Tue Sep 13, 2005 3:48 am
Location: Have gun, will travel
Contact:

Post by Pamela »

Gertrude was puzzled by the sudden reference to Rupert. The bard had to know her husband wasn’t there; after all, he would have escorted her in, or she would have hurried to join him. She considered Crow's earlier gallant behaviour- and the last meeting’s offering of a name. He surely cannot mean any interest, she thought with amused disbelief- and a little flattered satisfaction; she was human after all. She would have to watch herself, though; she didn’t want to give the wrong impression, or have others assume them. Larner was unlikely to bear tales against her, but there’d be other brothers here who perhaps wouldn’t be so shy. Rupert wouldn’t believe them; he knew her better than that. But sometimes it was wearing to see the heads bent and whispering to each other, smirks directed their way. Well, I teach next semester, and that’ll be the end of that for a while, she thought to herself.

She looked up from her thoughts at the bard’s gesture, and stared at the odd little tent. Something a child would create, she thought wistfully, before having her curiosity whet by the mention of her cards. She hesitated at the mention of more privacy, then was grateful at his quiet concern. “Thank you, Crow, and please, just Kingsley,” she said, rising from her chair to walk at his side- but not arm in arm- over to the shade. “It’s a shame that I must worry about rumor-mongers, but that is my own fault, I suppose, for deciding to travel abroad so often.”

She smiled and changing the subject, remarked, “I am quite interested in hearing your interpretation. Folk tales have their own worth, after all, in revealing local beliefs at the very least. And perhaps if Brother Perrison isn’t too busy, we can see if he’ll spare us a few minutes of his time.”

In the shade, she pulled out her programme, and examined the list once more as Crow brought out a deck of normal playing cards. “He’s not due to give a lecture, so there’ll be no public explanation…” Larner’s name caught her eye. Prelimary report on Zherisia? Now what in the world is that about..

Crow brought out a small leather case, and with a fluorish, spread the cards in a fan of colour. “Seems the locals aren't unfamiliar with Tarokka-based card-play; these aren't of any predictive value, of course, being printed rather than hand-painted, but I did win five hands of 'Geas' with them the other night, so perhaps they do carry a modicum of luck, at least. May I ask what your cards were, and if any were reversed?”

Gertrude named them, and mentioned the numeral beside most of them, and watched the bard’s deft hands move quickly among the many cards. “Is reversal bad, then?”
His only real danger is if stupidity is contagious and lethal. In which case, we’re all dead…-Gertrude
User avatar
Nathan of the FoS
Fiendish Enforcer
Fiendish Enforcer
Posts: 5246
Joined: Fri Nov 28, 2003 3:39 pm
Location: San Francisco CA

Post by Nathan of the FoS »

As Buchvold is savoring his mint-julep and watching the assorted endeavors of the Fraternity brothers on the lawn, there is a tap on his shoulder. "Brother Buchvold," Pierre Lacomte says, smiling very slightly. "A moment of your time? Please come with me."

He leads Buchvold out of the ballroom.
[b]FEAR JUSTICE.[/b] :elena:
User avatar
Rotipher of the FoS
Thieving Crow
Thieving Crow
Posts: 4683
Joined: Sat Dec 06, 2003 4:18 pm

Post by Rotipher of the FoS »

[OOC: Actually, they are Tarokka cards, just not the properly-handmade sort that Vistani use. Crow's been gambling as an excuse to hobnob with locals and gather information on the "foreign seigneurs" and their guests, his last couple of evenings in town, so he's got a set of gaming-Tarokka with him, as well as regular cards. 'Geas', BTW, is an actual "canon" Vistani card game which Bill Connors dreamed up years ago, and published rules for in Dragon Magazine. :wink: ]



The bard smiles slightly at Kingsley's request that he call her by her surname -- not likely; with this audience, playing the bashful youth behind the showman's audacious facade was too ingrained to cease his self-effacing mannerisms towards her now -- and again, when she's too busy inspecting her programme to notice, at how carefully she settles at the end of the bench, ample space left between them. Oh, yes, she plays her role very neatly indeed: amicable, yet decisively inaccessible, just as it should be.

Crow fans the cards to confirm he'd set them back in order after his last playing-session, remarking that this deck -- mundane woodcut-print cardboard, flimsy and crude compared to the ornately-detailed placards used by genuine fortune-tellers ... although, like many professional liars of his Land, the bard's modestly-adept at faking such readings -- had won him several games of late. Better to give the Paridoner an innocuous reason why he's carrying them, lest she grow suspicious of some conspiracy between himself and the eccentric-seeming blond Brother! Besides, it's the truth, and it pleases him to be honest with this woman about something.

Heeding her recital of names, the VRS spy lays out the arrangement of a basic cross on the bench between them, then rotates them appropriately so that all but the third -- the Prison, at the upper point of the cross -- lie upright for him, reversed from her viewpoint. "Not always," he replies to her query about a reversed card's negative connotations, as he completes the array. "The Tarokka, like the Vistani who are their makers, do not commit the commonplace fallacy of portraying the world as either wholly benign, or irredeemably malignant. Low-numbered cards of the Lesser deck bear a positive message, in upright orientation, whilst high-numbered Lessers are harbingers of misfortune. Reversal of either sort carries an opposite meaning, the higher values becoming a sign of hope hidden within darkness, and the lower, of well-meaning failure or corruption in a guise of benevolance."

The pattern finished, the bard gestures to Kingsley's cards. "In this case, unusually, the Greater Arcana outnumber the Lesser: an indication of an important message, some might say ... though such correlations, if they do exist, are not very strong. For the Greater cards, meanings are likewise inverted by the card's reversal, yet are usually more complex than simple 'good omens' or 'bad'. Likewise-" he points to the inverted Druid "-for mid-numbered Lesser cards, whose message is neither inherently ominous nor hopeful, but merely informative. It is up to the subject of the reading to make use of such cards' guidance, for good or ill."

Crow touches the edge of the centermost card, spins it round delicately to briefly show her its risqué image, then back to reversed orientation.

"This brazen vixen -- please, do pardon the artwork, madam; the motif of the Temptress is an ancient one ... and is, moreover, assigned to its card by Vistani women, not 'resolutely-masculine' boors -- is a case in point. Upright, it symbolizes a compromise of values for the sake of one's passions, typically due to weakness of character or willpower: of subconscious enslavement to one's base cravings and impulses. As this is most certainly not in keeping with your character, Professor, it is only fitting that your first card -- the 'focus' or significator, representing the subject of the reading at hand -- should be the reversal of this same image ... not, mind you, an absence of yearning, but a conscious and deliberate decision to sacrifice principle or self-determination for the sake of an acknowledged craving."

The bard takes pains not to look at Kingsley, as he relates the center card's significance; he's already made her uncomfortable enough. Blast that Perrison, that one was embarassing ... but not a bad choice for a Fraternity member, selling out her conscience and her independence for the lure of knowledge, come to think of it....

Turning the next card, to better display the Tax Collector's pitiless avarice, the bard continues:

"This, the Eight of Coins -- malevolent in upright orientation, as its high number attests -- pertains to wealth and commerce, like others of its suit. Corruption within the ranks of officialdom, this particular Coin-card attests to -- bribery, embezzlement, abuse of power for monetary gain -- or, when reversed as in your hand, to an honorable authority-figure, worthy of the trust of superiors and lessers, possibly in the midst of an otherwise-corrupted hierarchy. In this position, second drawn and to the focus-card's left, it designates some past influence on your own history ... or, perhaps, on your beliefs and way of thinking."

Crow rotates the second card back to its previous orientation -- reversed, as Kingsley sees it -- and pauses to lock eyes with the professor, concern for her feelings' privacy evident in his expression.

"If that card does carry some great meaning for you, Madam," he murmurs gently, "and if you deem my further analysis of your roster of cards to be too personal, by all means, I can stop now. A look at the Maison's library might serve just as well, to enlighten you as to their symbolism; as I said, I'm not really an expert."
"Who [u]cares[/u] what the Dark Powers are? They're [i]bastards![/i] That's all I need to know of them." -- Crow
User avatar
Nathan of the FoS
Fiendish Enforcer
Fiendish Enforcer
Posts: 5246
Joined: Fri Nov 28, 2003 3:39 pm
Location: San Francisco CA

Post by Nathan of the FoS »

Vedarrak and the Invidian--Brother Marko Kaspan--are obliged to break off their training bout when an elderly brother approaches them with some message. They look at each other, shrug, and set off for the house; the elderly brother begins to talk with one their erstwhile audience, while several others gradually break away from the group, some going inside, others to help with the tents.
[b]FEAR JUSTICE.[/b] :elena:
User avatar
Moral Machivelli
Rat Blinder
Rat Blinder
Posts: 413
Joined: Sun Oct 02, 2005 3:54 pm
Location: Not Here...

Post by Moral Machivelli »

Nathan of the FoS wrote:As Buchvold is savoring his mint-julep and watching the assorted endeavors of the Fraternity brothers on the lawn, there is a tap on his shoulder. "Brother Buchvold," Pierre Lacomte says, smiling very slightly. "A moment of your time? Please come with me."

He leads Buchvold out of the ballroom.
"Certianly, sir."

Buchvold follows, without protest
User avatar
Pamela
Sorority Shadow
Sorority Shadow
Posts: 931
Joined: Tue Sep 13, 2005 3:48 am
Location: Have gun, will travel
Contact:

Post by Pamela »

The professor listened carefully to Crow's explanation about the cards and the odd terms – Greater Arcana, Lesser Arcana; what differences are there, and why?- but not interrupting his exposition. She made a slight dismissive wave at Crow’s comment on the Temptress; she wasn’t some dowager in King’s Quarter, after all. She was rather fascinated by the symbolism; when had the Vistani come up with this system, and why these particular images?

She thought of February as the bard carefully wove his way around his description of the card. Sacrifice of principle? Perhaps. But not of one I was ever going to follow up on again… She also thought of her ambivalence about telling Rupert the truth. Every few days, she seemed to change her mind. She’d tried to tell herself that there was no point worrying about it- to leave it to the future…and found herself caught up in the dilemma once more. But that isfor later… There were several people the Tax-Collector could apply to; she wouldn’t have made it as far as she had in either academia or the Fraternity otherwise.

She was slightly amused and touched by the bard’s delicate manner with her. “You’re very kind, Crow, but really, I’d prefer to hear to my face the rest of your opinion. It’s certainly better than wondering alone in the library what you must be thinking of this, and myself.” And you take this much more seriously than you let on earlier…

“However, if you find this embarrassing, I certainly do not wish to impose upon you. Would you prefer not to continue?” She watched him to make sure he would not lie; she didn't want to ruin the so-far pleasant day.
His only real danger is if stupidity is contagious and lethal. In which case, we’re all dead…-Gertrude
User avatar
alhoon
Invisible Menace
Invisible Menace
Posts: 8804
Joined: Thu Dec 11, 2003 6:46 pm
Location: Chania or Athens // Greece

Post by alhoon »

Wandering the halls has given Draxton no clue about where he could find Buchvold. Dadrag probably has found that mercenary Buchvold hired and will probably assess him properly, learning what is necessary. He couldn't just ask a servant, since he didn't want to show too much interest in finding the Borcan.

And then... he spotted Buchvold following Lacompte in the distance. Should he follow them invisible? Should he accidentaly "hit" on them? Probably the second. His steps were nowhere as silent as that of the ex-assassin and if he was caught, he would be in precarious position indeed. So putting up a smiling face, as if he just were making pleasant thoughts, he started moving towards the couple, hoping that they won't send him away without at least giving some hints on their deal-to-make. He could always return invisible later after all.

closing the distance with quick steps, he called them from a distance and made a polite wave. "Good afternoon brothers. It has been some time."
"You truly see what a person is made of, when you begin to slice into them" - Semirhage
"I am not mad, no matter what you're implying." - Litalia
My DMGuild work!
User avatar
Rotipher of the FoS
Thieving Crow
Thieving Crow
Posts: 4683
Joined: Sat Dec 06, 2003 4:18 pm

Post by Rotipher of the FoS »

The bard chuckles, relieved to find that Kingsley is neither shy nor oversensitive about her reading's -- if such is, indeed, the purpose of the lists of cards -- contents. "Madam," he replies, impishly savoring the flicker of exasperation in her eyes as he, again, refrains from use of her surname. "If you deem my banter to be of some small service to you, even if solely as entertainment, I could not possibly stop now.

"Now, let us see what else your fortune professes, Professor..."

(Was it, in truth, a presumptive forecast, or were the Tarokka's symbols being employed for communication on a mundane level? Might signals to specific brothers -- or Van Rijn's agents, for that matter -- be concealed within a cloud of "cryptic prophecies", handed out at random by a seeming lunatic, to all but a select few? Was the whole business merely a distraction from other doings on the ranking members' part, or some typically-overcomplicated wizards' ploy to test what the lesser members would do, if presented with a mystery? If this were all a distraction, regretably it was a successful one; the spy could not bring himself to accept the Paridoner's offer to cut the process short, despite his private doubts as to the notes' relevance.)

The bard hesitates, staring at the next card in the sequence -- the only one of five to be reversed from his perspective -- then rouses himself from his momentary woolgathering. He gently touches the card at the top of the basic cross, its black human silhouette behind window-bars still patently sinister, even in a deck of such utilitarian quality.

"The Prison," Crow breathes. "One of the Greater Arcana, the high deck or 'Fortuna Magna', like the Temptress before it. Note the absence of either number or suit; the Greater cards defy such thematic categorization.

"Confinement and restraint, be it physical -- a literal captivity, a condition of bondage or exile, an incapacity rendering one impotent to move or to act -- or mental, as with the hidebound mind. Also seclusion, a severing of vital ties to others, whether by fate or by choice. A dire card in this, its upright orientation, in the reckoning of the Vistani ... but then, it would be a most dreadful prospect to such as they, would it not?

"In this position, Madam, it speaks of your present circumstances."

Once again, Crow avoids her gaze. The Prison meant loneliness, too -- a matter much on his mind, since Nevuchar Springs -- but he will not broach that interpretation aloud to Kingsley; neither of them is ready to trust the other -- in his case, any other -- that much.

The next card, to the focus's right, he turns. Remarkable, really, that so many of her cards have an inverted orientation, unlike his own hand, or that which he'd overheard Viktor Hazan lay claim to.

"The Druid, a mid-range card of the Lesser Deck, hence neither wholly good nor evil, neither fish nor fowl. Appropriately enough, you'll note the diverse array of animals accompanying the forest-priest -- rat, raven, snake and wolf -- which, in other contexts, are emblematic of the four suits. This card's suit is Glyphs, associated with spirituality, devotion for good or ill, and the element of water.

"Upright, the Druid speaks of natural and inner harmony, of suppressed emotions needing release, or of a need to stand aside and let Nature take its course. Reversed, it heralds inner turmoil and the loss of tranquility -- even, in extreme cases, of a deranged or obsessed mind -- as potential threats from within or without.

"A prediction of factors soon to influence your future, Madam. Cause for caution, I should think ... assuming we do choose to take Brother Perrison's 'gifts' at face value, that is." The bard tilts his head and smiles wryly, to briefly dispel the somber tone of the last two cards' import ... at least, before the final card's prognostication is delivered.

The VRS spy rotates the Five of Glyphs back into its prior orientation, then reaches past it to spin the card which, in far older Tarokka-decks than this, would have depicted his own avian namesake's 'cousin', not a raven-headed gypsy, arms outspread. As always, touching this card sends an incongruous jolt of familiarity through the bard; as always, he keeps this spark of tip-of-the-tongue near-recognition to himself.

"The Raven. A powerful card, equalled in its positive message -- if upright -- only by the Hero. A harbinger of good guidance and alliance, of divine intervention or other wondrous aid, or of one's inner strength rising to the fore in crisis. Reversed...." He turns the final card; again, as its image rotates to lie upright from his perspective, he experiences and conceals that shock of familiarity.

"...reversed, I fear, it warns of a confidant or a source of knowledge and advice, turned against one. Betrayal, Professor, by one whom you have trusted. Alternately, it may speak of unsuspected weakness hidden within one's own nature, yet breeding failure in a critical moment.

"I regret to say, Madam, that in this position and orientation, the Raven speaks -- allegedly -- of the most likely outcome which the future holds for you. Not a certain outcome, by any means; the Vistani do not presume to know fate so perfectly, that conscious human choice cannot modify its course. More elaborate patterns of cards exist, in fact, that allow for multiple possible futures: destiny's twists are whispered by the Tarokka, not written down irrefutably by them.

"Still and all, I do wish these cards had afforded me a more positive slate of meanings to report."

The bard sighs -- this exercise in Tarokka-trivia has been more draining than he'd expected, if only because the "reading's" overall message had taken some dark turns; faking fortune-telling was much more cheerful than interpreting such a somber array as hers -- and sits back, leaving the professor's five cards to lie in their original orientations, for her further perusal and consideration.

A moment later, he chuckles at a passing thought, a rueful and ironical smile curling a corner of his lip.

"It would seem, Madam, that in decrypting your cards, I've left myself with an irreconcilable quandry. For if we are expected to believe them, your own future contains some dastardly betrayal to come, by one whom you'll trust implicitly ... which suggests that, if I am to aspire to hold your confidence, the last thing I'd be advised to do is to earn it!"
"Who [u]cares[/u] what the Dark Powers are? They're [i]bastards![/i] That's all I need to know of them." -- Crow
User avatar
Nathan of the FoS
Fiendish Enforcer
Fiendish Enforcer
Posts: 5246
Joined: Fri Nov 28, 2003 3:39 pm
Location: San Francisco CA

Post by Nathan of the FoS »

alhoon wrote:Wandering the halls has given Draxton no clue about where he could find Buchvold. Dadrag probably has found that mercenary Buchvold hired and will probably assess him properly, learning what is necessary. He couldn't just ask a servant, since he didn't want to show too much interest in finding the Borcan.

And then... he spotted Buchvold following Lacomte in the distance. Should he follow them invisible? Should he accidentaly "hit" on them? Probably the second. His steps were nowhere as silent as that of the ex-assassin and if he was caught, he would be in precarious position indeed. So putting up a smiling face, as if he just were making pleasant thoughts, he started moving towards the couple, hoping that they won't send him away without at least giving some hints on their deal-to-make. He could always return invisible later after all.

closing the distance with quick steps, he called them from a distance and made a polite wave. "Good afternoon brothers. It has been some time."
Lacomte turns and nods as he sees the Richemulose approaching. "Why, Brother Serd. A pleasure, I'm sure. You know Brother Buchvold? So? Excellent? And Brother Roeccha? No? Allow me to make the introduction. Exalted Brother Roeccha, Brother Draxton Serd. I believe he has not been officially invited; could you arrange it? Thank you."

In a moment Draxton finds himself alone with the sharp-faced and saturnine Exalted Brother, who looks at him with an expression of distaste. "A pleasure, I'm sure," he says, in a tone of voice that suggests the opposite. "If you'll accompany me?"

OOC: Sorry, alhoon. Because of things that are happening elsewhere I can't give you a conversation with Lacomte and Buchvold at the moment. :(
[b]FEAR JUSTICE.[/b] :elena:
User avatar
Nathan of the FoS
Fiendish Enforcer
Fiendish Enforcer
Posts: 5246
Joined: Fri Nov 28, 2003 3:39 pm
Location: San Francisco CA

Post by Nathan of the FoS »

Rotipher wrote: "It would seem, Madam, that in decrypting your cards, I've left myself with an irreconcilable quandry. For if we are expected to believe them, your own future contains some dastardly betrayal to come, by one whom you'll trust implicitly ... which suggests that, if I am to aspire to hold your confidence, the last thing I'd be advised to do is to earn it!"
Even the best ears are deafened by their owner's voice; as Crow finishes speaking Brother Perrison, who had approached them from behind, applauds stiffly. "Bravo, Brother Crow!" he says, smiling his half-witted smile. "Very pretty! And you, do you seek redemption? You are an ascetic, yes? A man alone, a man who bears* the blade on behalf of the meek of the earth? Every man's hand shall be against the righteous, yet he shall overcome**...or will he?

"The soldier may triumph, or he may fall;
The cards show much, but they do not show all.**
"

*Or perhaps bares?
**The Second Book of Ezra xii:xxv
**A traditional couplet associated with the Soldier.
[b]FEAR JUSTICE.[/b] :elena:
User avatar
Pamela
Sorority Shadow
Sorority Shadow
Posts: 931
Joined: Tue Sep 13, 2005 3:48 am
Location: Have gun, will travel
Contact:

Post by Pamela »

Gertrude’s expression grew more thoughtful and guarded as the reading continued. The Prison confused her; her world was opening up, thanks to the Countess and the Shadowcloak- not closing down. Promotion was closer than it had ever been. She lay it aside as a false note for the moment, or perhaps some esoteric reference to the Fraternity’s situation as a whole.

The Shadowcloak had come to mind when she’d seen the Druid. The Father was a renowned hermit, with a decidedly philosophical bent. As Crow described the card, she recalled the Countess’ warning weeks earlier of his highly suspicious, if not paranoid nature. She nodded at the bard’s advice of caution, reminding herself once more to temper her hopes.

The professor was unable to contain a glance at Crow as he touched upon the card that seemed so obviously linked to him. She listened to the gloomy prognostication, nodding at his attempt to alleviate its grim meaning. She smiled at his admission that it was nonetheless hardly an optimistic forecast, appreciated the honesty which could not have been easy to relay. Her smile returned at the statement of his predicament, but she was concerned, and also slightly sorry. She was not a superstitious woman, but she did believe in synchronicity. What did she know of this man? He was very charming and likable, and she wanted to believe that he meant her no harm… But she hadn’t forgotten that odd breakfast of months ago, and the cabal of Tao and the remaining Il Aluk brothers. Whatever his feelings, he had a history there, and he had been in no hurry to reveal it to date. Who are you really, she wondered…

…and startled, turned around at the round of applause by the would-be prophet that had started this topic. She stared at Perrison's odd speech, and the reference to Ezra’s Mordentish book, then at the bard. “Righteous” was not a word that she’d ever yet heard in reference to the Brothers, let alone redemption. She was curious to hear anything he might add to her own reading of course, but was presently much more fascinated by the current flow of conversation. Ascetic, she thought incredulously, recalling Crow’s dandy ways. Him?!
His only real danger is if stupidity is contagious and lethal. In which case, we’re all dead…-Gertrude
Post Reply