The Devil's Dreams, Chapter 1, IC

[ewancummins]

morning of Oct 3th, Delapore estate, several miles south-west of Pont-a-Museau

Quiet, black clad servitors move about the hall, cleaning and arranging the furniture. The big, half-empty room lies partly in shadow and partly in sunlight filtered through the amber-glass of multiple narrow windows on the east wall. Dust motes dance in the golden rays, suspended in the musty air of the long-unused gathering place.

A well-dressed young man entered the room from the south door and took a moment to survey the scene. He frowned to see the clouds of dust drifting through the atmosphere of the chamber. With evident disgust, he used just the tips of his fingers to remove a cobweb that had become entangled in his fashionably long pony tail.
He turned to face the man who'd entered behind him, a stooped, graying fellow in drab but well-made clothing.

''Your estimation, Crespin?''


The older man tugged hard at his scraggly goatee, a habit that had probably contributed to his beard's sparseness, and said-

''I'm sure the staff will have the old place cleaned up in time for the first guests to arrive, Master Gauderic. Indeed, we ought to ready for the Conclave by sometime tonight, with the work proceeding so smoothly and swiftly.''

The young gentleman inclined his head slightly in a weak gesture of affirmation supported by a very slight exhalation that almost formed an audible 'yes.'

He turned to walk back the way he had come, but paused and said-

''Crespin, do you know which guests will arrive first?''

The major domo answered-

''The Weathermay-Foxgrove twins may be expected to arrive early. They had written to that effect, a week ago. I do believe they are interested in the local history, master. It may be that some other guests will be coming in their company. They are said to collect strange men.''


At that, Gauderic flashed a rakish smile, bright even teeth gleaming in the shade.

Crespin chuckled to see his young master's sudden change in expression.

''Yes, yes, think of it. Both lovely, both unmarried...and more importantly...both rich! ''

Gauderic took another look over the dusty old hall.

''Yes, we certainly could use an infusion of capital, to put it crudely. Father would be pleased at such a match. Marriage....I really had hoped to put it off longer, but if it must be so...''

After supressing a sneeze with the aid of his lace hankerchef, the young man added, in a cheery tone-

''For my own part, I desire most of all to pluck one, or maybe both, of these fabled roses of Mordent before the Conclave ends. Wish me luck, old man!''

[ewancummins]

Delapore estate, the guesthouse, morning of Oct 9


The line of wagons, horses, and coaches stretches along the dirt trail from the front of the two-storey stone and timber guesthouse to the road-gate that stands some twenty yards distant.

A pair of lovely and well-dressed young women, strikingly alike in looks, step down from the first stagecoach in line with the aid of a footman in dun-and-black livery.

One of the two women tells the footman-

''Please do be especially careful with our baggage. Some items are fragile and others are rather volatile."While the baggage is being unloaded, other guests begin to emerge from their coaches...

[steveflam]

Mirabulos residence, morning of Oct 9th.

Vinegar stretches lazily, slightly shoving the bundle of fur at the foot of her bed. The weasel yawns
and looks at his master. "Yes, I'll get you some fish you ingrate. If I am geting up at this ungodly hour,
so are you Mr Salt. Mother! No, I am not removing these from my body and that is final! What I do with my body
is my business. And no, I won't sleep clothed as you demand of me. I am old enough to do what I want
in my own room. Father is so clueless anyways. The only thing that interest him about me is the fact
that I am a budding Necromancer. Now get out while I take a bath and get ready for breakfast."

Getting up she walks over to her armoire and opens it. She choses the same thing she does every day. A short sleeved
shirt with a skull on it, a skirt and thigh high boots. She lays them on her bed and walks over to a dresser. Opening the top
drawer she removes a long pair of socks and a pair of britches. Laying them on the bed with the other clothes she grabs a long
tee shirt, donning it. Exitting her room she enters the boudoire and removing her shirt, slips into the already hot bath prepared
for her by her father minutes earlier.

Thirty minutes later she emerges from her room and heads below to the kitchen for breakfast. There's a note on the table from her father
stating he is busy in the shop on dire business. Shrugging, she eats and when done deposits her dishes in the sink. Heading to her room she
hands Mr Salt a large fish and grabs her spellbook. "Come on, lazybones I'm going to read up on my book now." The weasel leaps off the
bed and onto her shoulders, swrapping himself like a scarf around her neck and lower chest. Giggling, she heads below to the library and
sits, opening her book. An hour later she closes it, satisfied. She casts a spell and smiles. Putting her spellbook in her backpack she heads
out, locking the door behind her.

She doesn't walk far and using a key, opens the door to her father's shop, locking the door behind her. She walks to the counter and drops her
pack there. She begisn looking around for scrolls and after five minutes gives up and looks for her father. "He'll know if he has the scrolls I want
and if not, I can ask him where I can get them."

Moveing behind the counter she descends the stairs and soon enough is knocking at the door. Knowing full well he is there, she opens the door
and enters, closing the door behind her. "Dad, I want to buy some scrolls. I just want to know if you have them or not. If you don't, can you tell
me where I can get them?"

Her father, in fact has the scrolls and after she pays him she greedily takes the scrolls to her room and opens her armoire. Reaching behind the
shirts she touches a plank of wood and pushes it. It slides across and she deposits her new scrolls.


Mirabulos home, Oct 9th, evening.

"I am wearing this and that's final, father. And Mr Salt is accompanying me. My attire is my business not yours. I am, however, looking forward to
meeting some of these people you've told me about. Shall we?"

[ewancummins]

miles away from the Delapore estate, in the city of Pont-a-Museau, the home of Master Mirabulos

The middle-aged man jumps from his seat and cries out-

''What? Where? Those clothes? Damnation, the Autumnal Conclave! I had forgotten the date! Why would you wait so long to remind me? There's no time for you to change into something more ladylike- we have to leave the city at once. As it is, we will certainly be late.''

Rushing about the room, he seeks out and snatches up his travelling things.

[steveflam]

Vinegar rolls her eyes behind her fathers back. "Oh the drama of it all. He's had weeks to remember this date. It's a wonder he can tie his own shoes sometimes, Mr Salt," she utters under her breath. Her comments are directed to her weasel familiar.

"Father even if I did remind you , you'd still forget. It's not the end of the world. Let's go or as you say we'll be late." She walks with him as they leave the home. She glares behind her, sticking her tongue out at the apparition of her mother. If only her father knew.

[ewancummins]

Vinegar, Oct 9

Your father is able to make arrangements to get a coach to take you both partway to the Delapore estate, but night will fall soon and the coachmen refuse to travel after dark. Thus, your father reluctantly decides to spend the night at a roadside inn, with the intention of setting out again in the morning.

[steveflam]

Vinegar frowns as they arrive at the Inn. "Isn't there some other way to get to the estate?" She looks at her father with a raised eyebrow. "You're more learned in the arts than I am. Can we get there quicker by the arcane or must we stay at this hole on the side of the road for real?"

[ewancummins]

Vinegar frowns as they arrive at the Inn. "Isn't there some other way to get to the estate?" She looks at her father with a raised eyebrow. "You're more learned in the arts than I am. Can we get there quicker by the arcane or must we stay at this hole on the side of the road for real?"

''We shall wait here for the night, and then leave first thing in the morning. The horses need to rest, the coachmen say. "

[steveflam]

Vinegar sighs. "Let me talk to them, I can be rather persuasive when the occasion calls for it."

She exits the carriage and walks up to the coachmen. "Listen," she says in a seductive voice, "we need to get to the estate tonight."

She raises her skirt a tad and smiles. She removes a pouch from her packsack. Licking her lips she adds "I can pay you 50 gold and a little peek if you get us there tonight double time. What do you say?"

[ewancummins]

stables at the inn-

Vinegar sighs. "Let me talk to them, I can be rather persuasive when the occasion calls for it."

She exits the carriage and walks up to the coachmen. "Listen," she says in a seductive voice, "we need to get to the estate tonight."

She raises her skirt a tad and smiles. She removes a pouch from her packsack. Licking her lips she adds "I can pay you 50 gold and a little peek if you get us there tonight double time. What do you say?"

The burly, balding coachman finishes watering the horses before turning to take an appraising look at you.

''Hmmmm....''

The big man shifts his stance so that he's now between you and the exit.

''Fifty, hey? Not too bad. Now...this peek....I don't like being teased. Make that peek a tumble and you've got a deal.''

He gestures towards a nearby stack of hay.

''No need to tell my partner or your father about this part of the deal, is there?''

A broad grin splits his ugly, brutish face.

[Brock Marsh Runoff]

Gundarakite District, Morning, Oct 8th

"The lark in the morning she rises off her nest
She goes home in the evening with the dew all on her breast
And like the jolly ploughboy she whistles and she sings
She goes home in the evening with the dew all on her wings!"

It wasn't a cannonical hymn to the Morninglord, but as Dorgio sings between swigs he feels his deity's presence nonetheless. He'd heard the song from a tradesman from Kartakass who'd considered himself a rounder. Dorgio sings the words to his ad-hoc hymn of the morning and flecks of spittle and his morning liquor fly and mist into the airs as he croaks the tune.

When he is done with his dawn prayers, he takes up his spear and begins laying into the practice dummy propped up in his dwelling. Soon Dorgio felt the dullness from his morning draught wear away as he jabs at the target. And when he is done he sits down, and curses, and looks over his notes on The Woman-Killer.

In truth, it had been a clumsily written tract. But Dorgio's Mordentish had much improved in its writing, the second half of the work filled with fewer perplexing and seeming arbitrary gerunds than the first. The priest combed back his hair with his fingers and he looked over a new section of his notes, from the fiend he'd tracked down in Ste. Ronges. A slow smile came to him as he thought about that particular bit of field research. He still didn't think himself prepared to match wits with the scholars at the Conclave, but maybe one of those gathered at the conclave would find something familiar in his tale. Maybe at last he could find some sign of the trail that had grown cold for the better part of a year...

[steveflam]

Vinegar looks at the stack of hay then to the man. "If you forget the 50 gold we have a deal. Those tow have to be kept busy for a few minutes while we proceed with our transaction, shouldn't they?"

[ewancummins]

Vinegar looks at the stack of hay then to the man. "If you forget the 50 gold we have a deal. Those tow have to be kept busy for a few minutes while we proceed with our transaction, shouldn't they?"

''Naw, gold and a tumble. That's my offer.''

He steps a bit closer and opens his hands. His big mouth hangs open , now, and he's breathing hard.

[steveflam]

Sighing, she takes him by the hand and leads him to the stack of hay. Hiking up her skirt and pulling aside her britches she motions the brute to get the deed done.

[ewancummins]

Dorgio-late morning, 9th Oct

After a day-and-a-half in a coach and a night in a cramped little inn, you have arrived at the site of the conference. It's a fine autumn morning, crisp and clear. Gold and red leaves drift on the breeze, sailing past the open window of your stagecoach.

Up ahead a little distance, you spot two beautiful maids as they down from their coach and move towards the guesthouse. The girls look very much alike, but for their clashing dress. One wears fashionable lace and silk. The other is dressed more practically but no less stylishly in tall boots, a well-fitted russet jacket, and snug trousers.

Just now, you hear a knock on the door of the coach and a man's voice from the other side.

''Bags, sir?'