Party 7

"A disguise? It's a costume! They're putting on a show for us, where's your sense of theatricality?" he cries dramatically, then swoons.

"Hmm. Not my preferred method, but the show must go on. Make sure to keep it thin and pencily, so I can get in the right character."
 
“Stress clearly affects people differently” Marcon mused to himself.

“Here goes. Don’t move or it’ll smudge.”

He ran his blackened fingertip across Jasper’s upper lip and stood back to admire his handy work.

“Looks great!” he said enthusiastically, carefully positioning himself between Jasper and the mirror. And it was great too. If you squinted hard the apparent growth up Jasper’s right nostril and the drooping smear down the left side of his mouth were hardly noticeable.
 
Main Hall:

As you all linger and investigate what you can on the first floor, you can hear the sound of the harpischord with more scrutiny. The soothing tone seems more to do with the general sound of the instrument than any skill on the musician's end - it starts and stops every now and then, and sections are oft repeated with gusto until a note is misplaced and the piece is started anew. If you stay silent for a while you can almost hear the brief groan of a frustrated child between stanzas. Despite whatever conversation you're having or noise you're making they appear to be unperturbed by the disturbance, minding their own business.

Den:

On the other side through the oak doors lie the impressive sight of a hunter's den. As you enter you're immediately embraced by a faint warmth - peeking in you find that it's emanating from a roaring fireplace over on the far side of the wall. Above it on the mantle lies a mighty stag's head as a centerpiece, imposing under the angle of lighting, and a number of taxidermied animals stand on display around the room between well-dusted glass cabinets.

Fine comfy chairs draped in furs face the hearth, separated by a fresh cask of ale and a pipe rack on the small mahogany side table separating them. Over to the other corner of the room, there's a larger round table with a wide base and drawers built in, surrounded by sturdy bar stools and overseen by a gleaming chandelier.
 
Clover quirks her head at the noise, "You know, I could've sworn I heard one of the kids upstairs playing … whatever musical instrument that is. Anyone else feel up to seeking? Maybe if we win quickly they'll simply let us out of here."
 
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Den: ( G Garros )

You start searching through the various nooks and crannies of the hunter's den. The cask is unopened and cleanly stamped with the brand name "Ales d'Artisanat Équinoxe". The pipes are of fine quality and neatly stacked upon the small rack, each giving off a faint yet refined scent if you lean in closer to inspect. Along the sides of the room the taxidermied are exquisite in their realism and preparation - they stare off in various directions, almost like they could jump to life at any moment.

Moving along, you begin to glance into the glass cabinets on the other side - not difficult, seeing as they've apparently been wiped clean. In one, you find a set of identical wine glasses placed in perfect formation. The other is locked, sporting behind its pane three crossbows: one of heavy oak, one of a lighter frame, and the other shaped to fit into a single hand. Three cases of bolts lean against the frame to the back, finely sharpened.

The drawers of the player's table appear to be filled with an assortment of game sets and similar - dragon's chess, loose collections of dice, and several decks of cards all sporting a unique design of a perched raven as the card back. Peeking around a bit more you find a smaller drawer near what would be the dealer's seat, containing a small rectangular wooden box, intricately carved along its edges.
 
"Manners, Jeymus!" Jasper scolds. "Someone has invited us into their lovely home, it would be rude to begin looting while we await our host."

Jasper pours himself a drink from the cask and relaxes into one of the chairs, kicking his feet up. "Besides, how many weapons could you possibly need? "
 
Clover shrugs, "Can't hurt to try, but I'm just a simple seamstress."

After a few minutes, lots of wobbling glass, and muted mild slander of the lock and its purported ancestry, her tools go back into the pouch. Their owner seems confused as to how the glass and lock can be so sturdy and yet so thin?

"Right, like I said... simple seamstress," Clover states, blushing and sitting down.
 
Marcon stood in the middle of the den and squeezed the bridge of his nose. He stared meaningfully at Jasper reclining in his chair but couldn’t catch his eye.

He turned his attention to Jeymus standing by the cabinet and Clover fiddling with its lock. As the minutes passed he became increasingly frustrated - why didn’t the others seem as anxious to leave as he felt?

When Clover gave up on the lock, Marcon snapped. “Right. I don’t know what we’re hanging around for, but if this is so important I’ll open it. And then can we get a move on?”

He took careful aim at the lock with one finger. And from just a few inches away he directed his anger out of his outstretched digit. A bolt of flame shot out and hit the mechanism.

The lock didn’t melt exactly, but it looked to Marcon that it may have twisted just a little with the suggestion that something inside had given way.

Feeling a little foolish now that he’d vented his frustration, Marcon backed away from the cabinet. “There. That should have loosened it.” He said to no one in particular.
 
"You know, you all really need to calm down some. You're running around like church mice when they've seen the cat. It's a nicer place than I'm willing to bet any of you have seen for some time, so why not relax and enjoy it while it lasts? Stealing a crossbow isn't going to get us out of here any faster."

He fixes Marcon with a piercing look, challenging the evil eye Marcon levels at him, "or do you believe me mistaken? "
 
“What exactly is your plan then, Jasper!?” Marcon retorted? “Sitting around and playing dress-up doesn’t seem very constructive to me. We’ve been here, what, an hour? And you seem to have completely forgotten about our journey to the Shrine. Seriously, what the hell?”
 
Clover quietly takes the light crossbow and a quarrel, then heads out to the hallway. She's never been much for listening to people argue.
 
"It's a pilgrimage. Nothing in the description requires urgency. My plan is to relax and enjoy the comforts offered until we find out why we're trapped in this lovely manor." Jasper swirls the drink in his glass as he's seen fancy people do, then takes another sip.
 
Clover's stomach rumbles and she still wants something to eat, "Hey Jaymus, want to check out the kitchen next?"

Jaymus responds, "Human children like food right? It's a good place to check as any."

Clover manages to not look confused, wanders into the kitchen to take a peek. And, perhaps, a snack.
 
Kitchen:

You open the plain servant door to find a decently sized kitchen, sporting a bit of gloom in its quiet atmosphere but also quite orderly and tidy. The shelves are neatly stocked with cleaned and dried dishware, sparkling faintly from the light from a small window near the top. The worktable has mostly been wiped clean, save for one corner where a cutting board lays covered in a light sprinkling of flour. There also appears to be a light trickling of blood as if someone pricked themselves while chopping ingredients - though there don't appear to be any loose knives at first glance.

The rusted iron pipes of the oven snake out like a labyrinth, twisting up and into the ceiling in strange formations that probably only make sense to the person that forged it originally. At the back of the room a door hangs ajar, leading to what appears to be shelves in a well-stocked pantry. To the right wall is a dumbwaiter, currently shut closed though its hinges look like they've been well-worn and loosened. Whoever uses it must either love eating or hate wandering downstairs just for food. Maybe both.
 
Clover looks around in the kitchen, shrugs, and says in a firm voice to the ceiling, "Hey, um, I'm a little hungry, so I want to just make something to eat. Does ... whoever or whatever lives here mind?"

There's a faint childish giggle from the dumbwaiter.

Clover shrugs and opens the dumbwaiter, simultaneously saying, "I don't suppose you kids want to join me for tea and biscuits?"

Finding the interior of the dumbwaiter dark and empty, she closes it and heads into the pantry instead.

"Well, I offered."
 
Gritting his teeth, Marcon turned and followed Clover and Jeymus out of the room. He wasn’t going to hang around and wait for something to happen.

He saw the Gith disappear into the kitchen and emerge again a few moments later. Seeing him stride purposefully towards the stairs he considered “this guy seems a bit bullheaded but better that than waiting around.”

“Guys!” Marcon shouted to the others. “Come on. We’re going upstairs.”
 
Kitchen:

The pantry is very well stocked, and cramped as a result - you're almost wondering how they managed to fit so much food in this dingy side room like they were puzzle pieces. A couple barrels labeled "wheat" sit in the corner, next to sacks of old potatoes and a wheel of cheese or two. There are sections stocked to the brim with dried jerky, nuts, seeds, and many jars of dried fruit and candy - the canisters of which seem to be slightly opened and disturbed from their spot, as if a child had reached for them. An entire shelf is devoted to spices, three racks filled to the brim with exotic ingredients - though they appear to be collecting a bit of dust from lack of use. Next to a particularly large and nearly empty canister is a note in fine handwriting: "Helga, fetch more salt when the caravans come in." Underneath in slightly sloppier scribbles it also says: "--And some candy too!"
 
Clover tries to figure out which candy the kids have raided the most and takes the container with her. Maybe the kids will respond well to this kindness, instead? She only got candy as a kid if she stole it, so the idea of having it in the house hasn't really sunk in yet.

She hears Marcon shout, “Guys! Come on. We’re going upstairs," and hurries after the others.

'Maybe they'll play nice for lemon drops?' she thinks.
 
"Ugh, fine, " Jasper grumbles, loud enough to be heard in the other room as he pulls himself up from the couch.

"Wonderful plan, yes, let's all go looking for death instead of taking a minute to relax and enjoy ourselves." Still, he has enough common sense to not get left too far behind.
 
You all head upstairs to the second floor. Unlit oil lamps are mounted on the walls of this elegant hall. Hanging above the mantleplace is a wood framed portrait of a family. The placcard at the bottom of the frame reads "Gustav and Elisabeth Durst and Family." Rose and Thorn are in the portrait, smiling next to two adults. The father is swaddling a baby, who the mother seems to regard with a hint of scorn.

Standing suits of armor flank wooden doors in the east and west walls. Each suit of armor clutches a spear and has a visored helm shaped like a wolf's head. The doors are carved with dancing children. Everything in the hall appears to be covered with a thin layer of dust.

The red marble staircase that started on the first floor continues to spiral upward. A cold draft can be felt coming from upstairs. A smaller door is directly to the right of the stair's landing.
 
Clover looks over the carvings for buttons, realizing that the children are being chased by bats rather than playing, then investigates the smallest door for traps first and opens it, revealing a lack of the beauty found elsewhere, "Servant's rooms, I guess? Anyway, this place is a bit creepy."
 
Jasper wanders into the servants' room, looking it over with a practiced eye. "Who wants to bet there's a secret room here?" he asks, striding across to the back wall and knocking against it.

A hollow thud rings back. With a glint in his eye, Jasper grabs his mace and attempts to break down the wall.
 
Marcon walked past Clover and Jasper and stopped outside the righthand side door. With a deep breath he rested his hand on the handle. He had just plucked up the courage to turn the handle when he heard Jasper's question.

"A secret room? Maybe it's a way out?" His interest piqued and grateful that Jasper seemed to be helping at last he lifted his hand and walked back to the servants' quarters. Seeing Jasper lift the mace he opened his mouth to say something, but then thought better of it. He didn't want to throw water on Jasper's newly found enthusiasm.
 
Clover heads out of the room to the door to the South from the hall and checks it for traps. Finding none, she opens the door and looks in...
 
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