Grand Entrance of the FoS Manoir de Pénombre

[Jester of the FoS]

The Grand Entrance opens before you, a sprawling cavern of a room. The massive two-story high entryway is lined with dark marble and thick velvety curtains and the main double staircase arches in front of you. The stair start on the side walls and curve gently upward and angle together meeting on a large landing on the second floor. The stairs themselves are pale grey stone lined with thick red carpeting and highlighted with the polished brass railings that effortlessly catch the brilliant light of the chandelier high above your head.

A single magnificent rug dominates the floor, Phazarian in design and likely very expensive. It bears the indents of dozens of hurried steps and the memories of thousands of conversations and greetings. Other than the rug and a few small tables adorned with greenery, the room is mostly unfurnished.

Surrounded by the staircase is a set of heavy wooden double doors, the portal into the currently busy Dining Hall. Through there you can hear the hustle of servants arranging the Dining Hall for the coming feast.

Other doors lead outward from your position, stretching out into the Manoir like threads of a web. To your left, facing to the North, are the doors to the Wine Cellar and the Kitchen while, to the right, is the door leading to the restricted area of the Manoir housing the private Study, Armoury and the Fraternity’s Laboratory.

One of the servants, a butler or similar underling, appears before you and offers to take your outerwear.

You enter followed closely by another guest who reaches into is velvety, black suit jacket to get his invitation for the butler. No sooner has he stepped over the threshold and into the Entryway when a moaning wail pierces the calm, plaintive cry of pain. The butler steps firmly between the man an the room.

“I am sorry sir, but the invitation does clearly say ‘no weapons will be permitted’.”

The other guest shrugs and with a broad smile, he pulls out a long straight-edged dagger. “Sorry, must have forgotten about that.” He says speaking in a light Mordentish accent.

“Of course sir.” The butler said escorting the knife to a locked room. “Only ranking members of the Fraternity or trusted guests can carry weapons. Anyone without a token triggers the Manoir’s alarms.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” The man says with a wink walking past you into a hallway.

[Viktor Hazan]

October 29th, 4 pm
Ste Ronges Manoir de Pénombre

Just after the butler, a man wearing the snobbish clothing of Dementelieu high society is standing there with a glass of sparkling wine in a hand. His well kept clothing are dark red and black, and they contrast with his unruly hair. This is Viktor Hazan.

“Welcome, friends, welcome to the Manoir the Pénombre”

.

[Tobias Blackburn]

Lauren Hartly looked around the hall with cold, dispassionate eyes. Towering at almost seven feet in height, he resembled a skeletal figure drapped in a ill fitting black suit, his bald head shining like a beckon in the like of the chandeliers.

"Thank you." He said to his host, his voice flat and tired.

[Viktor Hazan]

Viktor approaches and offers to shake hand with Lauren. Since Viktor is shortish and Lauren quite tall, it is nearly comical.

“It is a grand pleasure to see you”, Viktor says with his piercing eyes on Lauren, “Are you Monsieur Hartly? I've read a few of your articles”

[Viktor Hazan]

Viktor waves at Raphael Buchvold.

“Mr Buchold!”, Viktor is surprised. “What brings you around? Do you have anything of interest to offer us?”

[Tobias Blackburn]

Hartly nods slowly, looking down at Viktor as he shook hands.

"That is very kind of you to say." He said, each word dragging out as if from some deep pit. "There are few who are able to be objective enough to understand them. You must be..." His features scrunch up in thought "Professor Hazan? I have seen much of your own work. I particularly enjoyed your work on drugs and their effects on awareness. Your theories are...

"Interesting."

[Moral Machivelli]

"I do indeed" smiles the tall black haired Borcan. "My study of the creatures of the Watchers in Shadow has proved most interesting" "I hope to have finished my research conclucively within the month. " "I have still reached several conclusions." "I will hapily discuss them tonight"

As he speaks you notice the glint of his golden amulet. ..,.and you hear....something .an arcane echoe. a voice speaking words you cannot here.

[Viktor Hazan]

Hartly nods slowly, looking down at Viktor as he shook hands.

"That is very kind of you to say." He said, each word dragging out as if from some deep pit. "There are few who are able to be objective enough to understand them. You must be..." His features scrunch up in thought "Professor Hazan? I have seen much of your own work. I particularly enjoyed your work on drugs and their effects on awareness. Your theories are...

"Interesting."

“Well, surely not as interesting as your article on this article on the vampire’s reproductive system”, sneers Viktor, “but this was one of your first article. It got better afterward, don’t worry. We members of the Fraternity do usually not explore the world of necromancy. Did you have a safe trip from Mordent?”

[Tobias Blackburn]

Lauren looked down at the newcomer and tilted his head as he took him in. His eyes slowed their progression at the amulet, but did not stop there.

Philactary? He thought, Possibly. Doubtful. Most likely some arcane trinket.

"Greetings." He said, the slow words holding a Mordentish drawl. "I am Lauren Hartly. I study Faith."

[Viktor Hazan]

"I do indeed" smiles the tall black haired Borcan. "My study of the creatures of the Watchers in Shadow has proved most interesting" "I hope to have finished my research conclucively within the month. " "I have still reached several conclusions." "I will hapily discuss them tonight"

As he speaks you notice the glint of his golden amulet. ..,.and you hear....something .an arcane echoe. a voice speaking words you cannot here.

Viktor observe Buchvold for a moment, especially the amulet, and ask in a whisper "But I meant items to trade. Your last items sold to us... proved to be quite unique and fascinating"

[Viktor Hazan]

"Greetings." He said, the slow words holding a Mordentish drawl. "I am Lauren Hartly. I study Faith."

"You study Faith? That is how you describe your ... studies?"

[Moral Machivelli]

"and I" replys the Borcan smothly "am Raphael Buchvold. I study the creatures of shadow"

"By the way, I hope you can attend my lecture next month" "My research has had some ... Iluminating conclusions." He fingers the amulet "This is one of them"

[Viktor Hazan]

"and I" replys the Borcan smothly "am Raphael Buchvold. I study the creatures of shadow"

"By the way, I hope you can attend my lecture next month" "My research has had some ... Iluminating conclusions." He fingers the amulet "This is one of them"

“His lecture will surely prove to be interesting. You’ll see, Mr Hartly, that Mr Buchold find enough time outside of Misericordia’s Balls and art galleries to make some fascinating research… in a worthwhile field”, Viktor says.

[Tobias Blackburn]

“Well, surely not as interesting as your article on this article on the vampire’s reproductive system”, sneers Viktor, “but this was one of your first article. It got better afterward, don’t worry. We members of the Fraternity do usually not explore the world of necromancy. Did you have a safe trip from Mordent?”

Hartly does not even twitch in annoyance, simply staring ahead with his unwavering eyes at his host.

"Yes, it was a crude attempt," He said, "But it was part of a study into the theory of negative energy, the changes it causes to the human form, and why there are..." He pauses as if choking on the word. "priests who can channel it without suffering these changes. I believe that you will find the follow up report to be much more informative.

"And I do not study necromancy." He paused again in thought. "But an understanding is important in my studies."

Taking his eyes off his host, he looked further around the room, taking in the furnishings.

"My trip was satisfactory. It took time to find the Manor, though. The driver was most disappointing."

[Pamela]

My darling Rupert,

Please excuse the handwriting; I thought I’d write a note before I got swept up the seminar. Richemulot is beautiful- the clear skies are so wonderful after Mordent’s fogs. I have been-

Gertrude Kingsley looked up at the wailing, and quickly peered out of the carriage. It seemed a family was being evicted; the others in the carriage shook their heads at the scene and turned away. Bloody sow, she thought, taking in the numerous children around a bedraggled, upset woman trying to plead with some official. If you’re going to breed like an animal, expect to live like one… She pursed her lips, then turned once more to her missive. When she had finished the previous concern, she added:

I’ve just remembered- can you send me the Paridon Responsible Parents quarterly report when it comes in? I wish Mrs Pierce to know that the future’s children are never far from my thoughts.

Breeders…the less we have, the better for all of us. The vasectomy program had received a boost when convicts were offered lesser sentences in exchange. They were busy gathering support for a law on mandatory sterilisation for men convicted of a crime of passion. Hysterectomies were too expensive and complicated. There seemed to be little success so far in finding any medicine which could render women sterile easily. In the meantime, they offered any form of birth control, including abortion. There were rumours of post-natal forms but they were quietly keeping with the voluntary cases.

I must admit that I am quite excited about this evening; I am sorry that you cannot be here. But needless to say I promise to return as soon as possible to share the details.

She was careful about her letters; who knew who might read them, after all? She would arrange a meeting with the Paridon branch. Perhaps once they saw she’d been well-received at the triannual, they would 'find time' to consider her advancement. She sniffed, and her lips pursed once more. They probably will not budge unless they receive a recommendation from another Brother outside our country. Cowards….

She wrote of the minor events which had filled her previous day; the kinds which are shared over dinner. Often forgotten quickly, but leaving an impression of the sharing of a day in the life together. They had maintained this habit for nearly twenty years. When they came together, they were able to fall into the happy camaraderie which fed their relationship and their work.

…………………………………………………..

Professor Kingsley had the driver stop at a village about an hour away from the Manor; it was early afternoon. She napped, bathed, and dressed once more- functional grey jacket and skirt, with a white blouse The only jewellery she wore were two rings. One was the golden band of matrimony; the other, the silver band of another life commitment. Her hair was in a simple bun; already a few strands, silver and brown, slipped from the restrictions. She debated cosmetics, and applied them sparingly. It was not a time to emphasise her femininity. Never time enough…Chin up; there are better ways to impress them. Brown eyes solemnly studied her reflection. It would do.

………………………………………………..

She took calm, steady breaths as Le Manoir came into view. This would be the first time she ever came to the triannual meeting, and meet the elders of the Fraternity. You are as good as any of them; indeed better than many. She sat up straight in the carriage, head held high, then fought to restrain the combative stance. She could almost hear Rupert murmur, “Save the chip for a more opportune moment, dearest,” and the thought brought a smile to her face and eased the tension within her. Nonetheless, she was unable to complete quell her excitement as the carriage came to a halt and Pierre helped her out. Her eyes had hungrily taken in the estate from a distance; now she took care not to be caught staring like some ingénue.

Within its walls, she was unable to stop herself from pausing to admire. Give credit where it is due, she thought, and took in the remarkable settings. I am truly here…A smile crossed her lips, and warmed her appearance.

It vanished when the cry rang out. She laughed gently as the source was quickly, lazily revealed. She inclined her head in a seeming show of sympathy to the Mordentish member. Bloody idiot… she thought as she smiled, handing her black cloak over to the butler.

She curtseyed as she made her way past the wild-haired gentleman who greeted them. Demento dandy… She smiled, and made her way to a corner, content for the moment to sit back and listen…