La Maison Soloumbre: Evening of April 10th

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alhoon
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Post by alhoon »

Perhaps I'll have to share a room. A pity that this will make meeting Buchvold more complicated.

Draxton looked around to see if he finds anyone he can share a room with. He starts speaking with few of the people that planned to leave for the night and after some time, he met a member he could spend the night with. A Borcan, not a noble but a scholar working for someone... and the brother didn't tell who this "someone" is. So the "someone" is probably an economic antagonist of him. Draxton would avoid drinking wine with that brother once in the room.
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Post by Pamela »

Gertrude blinked when she noticed Iago’s ring, her glance raising to his face. He was already turned away and moving off with her worldly possessions. It certainly explains his unusual approach to domestic employment, she thought to herself, wondering how the Borcan had come to be associated with the von Lovenhorst household, and what obligations- or promises- kept him in such a position.

She smiled at the Countess’ enthusiasm, and remarked, “If you will follow me…” She moved towards the dark-haired bard, smiling warmly as she approached. As she reached his side, however, a stern façade settled upon her face as she chided, “I was enjoying my conversation with our Sister, when she informed me that some young man was making eyes at me. I knew only who could be so ill-mannered and myopic…”

Gertrude then turned to the elegant blonde and said warmly, “Countess von Lovenhorst, may I introduce you to Brother Crow; Brother Crow, the Countess…”
His only real danger is if stupidity is contagious and lethal. In which case, we’re all dead…-Gertrude
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Post by Rotipher of the FoS »

Scanning the milling crowd of Brothers uncertain as to their own night's accommodations -- for himself, he's not concerned, as he'd much rather doze off in a parlor chair than risk fouling his makeup on bedsheets -- the bard picks out several familiar faces, considering whom to approach next. His gray eyes skip over Brother Perrison (Something tells me he'll not find his sheet-and-blanket tent sufficient, on this night....) and the odious Draxton Serd, then that deceptively-unimposing Rajian who'd had the gall to question Shadowcloak's meanderings. He's just considering whether to intercept Quiret and Torrens, to compliment them on their sound-sculpture's potency, when a far more welcome figure catches his attention, in the company of the blonde woman who'd stood a witness to yesterday's blood-testing.

Breaking into a genuine smile, Crow returns the Zherisian's wave, then sidles his way between the rows of seats to meet the oncoming pair. He steps carefully around a few still-seated Brothers' conversations, equally mindful of his ankle and guitar-case, then onward into the aisle, to find Kingsley already scowling in feigned annoyance (delightful!) and scolding him in jest:


Llana wrote:“I was enjoying my conversation with our Sister, when she informed me that some young man was making eyes at me. I knew only who could be so ill-mannered and myopic…”
As if on cue, Crow widens his eyes in astonishment, then lets a flare of sudden mock-outrage turn his masqued features fierce. He spins round sharply, reaches to his waist and pantomimes the drawing of a fencer's blade, then pivots on his heels from side to side, as if searching the room beyond him for the offending varlet. Diving eagerly into the rascal's role he's thrilled the Lady Scalpel deems so entertaining, the bard barks out in faux-indignation:

"Why, how dare he?! Such a churlish affront to Madam's dignity is not to be borne! Do but point the uncouth blaggard out to me, Professor, and I'll see he incurs his due penalty for such impertinence!"

He spins round in a circle on his sound ankle, then back to face the pair of them, and dips into a spirited Invidian-style bow: a favorite of stage-fencers and melodramatic dandies the Land over, given the feisty and colorful temprement of its culture of origin.

Rising, he winks, nods, chuckles.

Gertrude then turned to the elegant blonde and said warmly, “Countess von Lovenhorst, may I introduce you to Brother Crow; Brother Crow, the Countess…”
At the professor's introduction, the spy straightens up to his full (modest) height, executes a perfectly-mimed -- and quite formal, not theatrical -- salute with the imaginary rapier, then bows anew, this time in the stiff-backed Lamordian fashion.

"Your Ladyship," he addresses the fair-haired she-viper. "A privilege indeed, to meet one so renowned, and so closely -- and deservedly -- associated with the Fraternity's guiding hands. And all the moreso, in that it is you I must rightly thank, for blazing the trail our worthy Professor now traverses in turn."

A nod and a smile, this time to the Zherisian.
"Who [u]cares[/u] what the Dark Powers are? They're [i]bastards![/i] That's all I need to know of them." -- Crow
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Post by Glim »

Nathan of the FoS wrote:"Esteemed Brother Armande Dupin," Lacomte says, and the gentleman indicated stands and offers his hand to Tuyuz, smiling faintly. "A pleasure, Brother Tuyuz," he says. "I confess, I have not made so deep a study of the queen of the sciences as to penetrate the depths of Father Shadowcloak's presentation, as you seem to have done. Might you elucidate, in layman's terms, your gloss on his intended meaning?"

OOC: Feel free to make mathematical jargon up in your reply, Glim. You've got the basics of what Shadowcloak said, so you can play with that a bit.
"Of course, of course. Where do I begin...."

"There's a general consensus among a small group of illusionists... although it was published in a very obscure thesis that is likely unknown to you... where they establish that if an illusion is cast, and everybody that has reason to disbelieve it, like the caster and witnesses of the casting, is killed or forgets, the illusion will become part of reality, because there's no one to disbelieve it."

"This is sort of what Father Shadowcloak has been discussing, only on a much larger scale. By 'illustrating' past events, altering their outcome - all this in a controlled illusory environment - one could possibly affect the event itself and change its outcome."

"Then, there's the issue of detailing said events. There's so many parameters that might have to be taken into account to make the illusion real enough. Environmental properties, like for instance temperature, wind direction, or personal traits like pimples or something else. If you think about it, it's really hard to describe this room in this matter of absurd detail after all."

"Now, according to the Father, this requires 'lots of shadow magic'... the techniques for obtaining and using these 'lots' unknown to me. Before he could elaborate and what sounded like an interesting beginning, he cut himself off, unfortunately."

Shadiir chuckles, then asks: "I hope my discourse wasn't boring, or as hard to grasp as the Father's, monsieur Lacomte, Brother Dupin."
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Post by Nathan of the FoS »

Rotipher of the FoS wrote:
"Your Ladyship," he addresses the fair-haired she-viper. "A privilege indeed, to meet one so renowned, and so closely -- and deservedly -- associated with the Fraternity's guiding hands. And all the moreso, in that it is you I must rightly thank, for blazing the trail our worthy Professor now traverses in turn."
"Such a profusion of obeisances, Brother Crow," the Countess says, smiling and extending a gloved hand to be kissed. "I am entirely charmed to see that there are some among the brotherhood to whom gallantry is not a dead letter. You yourself are rather in the minority here, unless I mistake the import of your case; how does a dashing pursuivant of the Muses come to find himself among so many academics?"
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Post by Nathan of the FoS »

Glim wrote:
Nathan of the FoS wrote:"Esteemed Brother Armande Dupin," Lacomte says, and the gentleman indicated stands and offers his hand to Tuyuz, smiling faintly. "A pleasure, Brother Tuyuz," he says. "I confess, I have not made so deep a study of the queen of the sciences as to penetrate the depths of Father Shadowcloak's presentation, as you seem to have done. Might you elucidate, in layman's terms, your gloss on his intended meaning?"

OOC: Feel free to make mathematical jargon up in your reply, Glim. You've got the basics of what Shadowcloak said, so you can play with that a bit.
"Of course, of course. Where do I begin...."

"There's a general consensus among a small group of illusionists... although it was published in a very obscure thesis that is likely unknown to you... where they establish that if an illusion is cast, and everybody that has reason to disbelieve it, like the caster and witnesses of the casting, is killed or forgets, the illusion will become part of reality, because there's no one to disbelieve it."

Shadiir chuckles, then asks: "I hope my discourse wasn't boring, or as hard to grasp as the Father's, monsieur Lacomte, Brother Dupin."
The two eldery academics exchange glances, then Lacomte replies, "Not at all--you are the soul of brevity and cogency, Brother Tuyuz. I wonder if Father Shadowcloak is fully serious about the implications of his recent research..."

Seeing Tuyuz' confusion, he continues, "The Shadowcloak rather dislikes speaking at meetings such as this one, and has been known to invent findings from whole cloth--and also to mix tares with the wheat, when he is, in fact, discussing something of real import--giving a few things which are verifiable and reliable, others which (although logical extrapolations) are not. On cccasion, though, he means exactly what he says. You can detect no error in his present statements?..."
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Post by Rotipher of the FoS »

Nathan of the FoS wrote:"Such a profusion of obeisances, Brother Crow," the Countess says, smiling and extending a gloved hand to be kissed. "I am entirely charmed to see that there are some among the brotherhood to whom gallantry is not a dead letter."
"If it please Your Ladyship," the bard replies, and bestows the requisite kiss to the Lamordian's silken glove ... tactfully, with perfect decorum and respect -- Kingsley's eyes are upon him, for one -- yet not so briskly as to slight the Countess's vanity. The gesture isn't difficult, despite the spy's distaste for the woman; most cabals he has infiltrated in years past have been more gender-diverse than this one, and he is well-practiced at skirting this fine line.

(Besides, her glove is finely made, its fabric exquisite; appreciation for the talent of Her Ladyship's seamstresses makes such protocol easier to stomach.)

"You yourself are rather in the minority here, unless I mistake the import of your case; how does a dashing pursuivant of the Muses come to find himself among so many academics?"
Crow smiles coyly. "Why, what better venue for a shrewd devotee of the Muses to expand his horizons than this? 'Muses' -- a captivating allegory ... and deriving from your own homeland's classical mythology, yes? -- were not solely preoccupied with music: the Nine Sisters' purview encompasses history, meditation, astronomy and astrology alike. Past mysteries and future destinies ... knowledge, both scientific and arcane ... the achievement of enlightenment by contemplation of these insights ... all are wholly consistent with the Fraternity's scholasticism. That my own musical aptitudes align more closely with their siblings' proficiencies need not lead me to spurn the wisdom of Clio or Urania."

The bard's expression turns more serious for a moment, and pensive, as if he thinks his words aloud.

"But moreover, I often question whether the boundaries between artiste and academic are so strictly-drawn as common definitions care to render them. Is it not by tales and songs that mankind's more primitive cultures pass on their collective lore, or by which its youngest of pupils begin their own education in the nursery? Storytellers were humankind's first professors; for the Kartakans, the Forfarian druids, even the Vistani, they remain so to this day ... and likely hold their students' attentions more keenly than many a dreary lecturerer! Poetry and song, Your Ladyship, are the living libraries of those peoples whose way of life is ill-conducive to literacy, and to disparage such potential sources of insight for a mere failing of penmanship is to overlook vast realms of untapped knowledge which contemporary life -- however comfortable -- has imprudently left to fall by the wayside."

Crow blinks, shakes his head slightly, as if realizing he's let his 'dashing bard' pose of gallantry slip. He grins, nods at Kingsley again.

"In any case," he resumes, stepping back slightly to draw the Zherisian into the dialogue and letting the jaunty air of a rascal reassert itself in his voice. "The professor can surely attest that I am much of a piece with my fellows of bardic stripe, in that I would sooner be caught being dead than being boring. (The 'cardinal sin', I believe you called it, Madam...?) By my participation with the Fraternity, I can enhance my own stature in both worlds: amongst the Brethren, I stand out with distinction as a witty and cunning tongue amidst dry-spoken, bookish academicians; to fellow-musicians at large, conversely, I effortlessly win a reputation as a scholar par excellence, merely by a rumored association with world-renowned experts. Thus, I can reap the attention and interest which is every bard's bread and butter from both these peer-groups ... and without the unseemly inconvenience of having to make myself particularly useful, in any practical sense of the word."

He winks at Kingsley, recalling her own teasing remarks during their last encounter, then bobs his head deferentially to the Countess.

"So, Your Ladyship, it would seem that my own 'hidden agenda' has been found out, and by a mere moment's inquiry on your part. But fair is fair, gracious Sisters, and such pictures of courtesy surely would not deny me an enquiry in exchange? Please, do speak to me of your own progress in breaching the Fraternity's too-antiquated strictures as to its membership ... and whether I surmise correctly, that you charming ladies are now allied in this endeavor? As another whose status bears an unfavorable mark against it, for my own atypical permutation of Art, I am naturally intrigued by and supportive of any such attempt to improve my colleagues' breadth of perspective."

The spy tilts his head, genuinely curious as to how thoroughly Kingsley has let herself become ensnared by this particular viper's coils ... and, for the nonce, mercifully unaware how deadly-accurate his quip about his "hidden agenda's" discovery truly is.
"Who [u]cares[/u] what the Dark Powers are? They're [i]bastards![/i] That's all I need to know of them." -- Crow
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Post by alhoon »

DELETED

OOC: What was the "unnamed player's" login and password again? I have been looking for it for half an hour and didn't find it.
Last edited by alhoon on Wed Nov 29, 2006 1:46 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by Rotipher of the FoS »

[OOC: Was that the one for 'anonymous' posts? I think it was:

Login: Mystery
Password: Password

Haven't tested it myself, but I hope it works, alhoon!]
"Who [u]cares[/u] what the Dark Powers are? They're [i]bastards![/i] That's all I need to know of them." -- Crow
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Post by Nathan of the FoS »

alhoon wrote:A pretty mid-thirties maid, probably from the western Core passes by Buchvold carrying a pitcher with water for some brothers busy talking and theorising.
She accidentaly bumps on him slightly, spilling a bit of the water on the floor.

"Oh, excuse me sir!" Checks if she has spilled any water on him noticing some in his boot. "I apologize for my incompetence sir. I'm just a bit tired. Excuse me again". Bowing in apology she returns to her job.

OOC: What was the "unnamed player's" login and password again? I have been looking for it for half an hour and didn't find it.
Quick note: there are, as far as any of you know, no persons present in the Maison who are not members of the Fraternity. The servants present yesterday were all sent away this morning.
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Post by Pamela »

Gertrude listened with interest to the description of the Muses. She was of course familiar with them, and the ancients’ equal esteem for both the arts and sciences. She wasn’t surprised by the bard’s respect for the oral tradition; she appreciated its value herself, since it was the bedrock for many faiths. She was surprised however by Crow’s sudden wariness, and it took her a moment to recall their surroundings. The Fraternity did indeed have a great respect for knowledge- but any propositions had to be written down, and the ‘scientific method’ was king. She was sorry to see the change in conversation, but her smile remained firmly in place.

“A cardinal sin which I wish were respected by many an academic, if I were honest, Brother,” she said wryly, recalling many a lecture.” She listened with amusement to Crow’s supposed role as interloper in two worlds, and grinned at the distasteful mention of ‘usefulness’. “Sun forfend,” she replied tartly, eyes dancing. “Though I do worry that you would even consider the practical sense of words. I hope you are not coming down with something- malaria, or a sense of purpose…”

She hesitated at the mention of the alliance between herself and the Countess. She did consider van Lovenhorst an ally, but not one she’d name publicly. She didn’t like to presume on their acquaintance, especially considering her relative anonymity and lack of status within the Fraternity. Whatever favours she’d received had been earned, in her eyes, and would always remain so. She certainly did not plan to air her hopes about mentoring, especially after her poor comprehension of the Shadowcloak’s presentation. Still, an answer was required, and she didn’t wish there to be any perception of ingratitude, or familiarity. “The Countess has been kind enough to give me hope in such a venture,” she said, with a smiling nod towards the blonde. “As to the breaching of the strictures…” the professor shrugged. “I must be honest and admit that it is less the product of my own talents than the generosity and open-mindedness of Brothers like Larner and Count von Lovenhorst. I can only hope to live up to the example before me, and to encourage other brothers to consider the wisdom of those who have already disregarded this rule.” There was much else that she would have loved to add, but there were still many around, and she didn’t care to have her words misconstrued.
His only real danger is if stupidity is contagious and lethal. In which case, we’re all dead…-Gertrude
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Post by Glim »

Nathan of the FoS wrote: The two eldery academics exchange glances, then Lacomte replies, "Not at all--you are the soul of brevity and cogency, Brother Tuyuz. I wonder if Father Shadowcloak is fully serious about the implications of his recent research..."

Seeing Tuyuz' confusion, he continues, "The Shadowcloak rather dislikes speaking at meetings such as this one, and has been known to invent findings from whole cloth--and also to mix tares with the wheat, when he is, in fact, discussing something of real import--giving a few things which are verifiable and reliable, others which (although logical extrapolations) are not. On cccasion, though, he means exactly what he says. You can detect no error in his present statements?..."
"Not at present, Sir. And although I'm not well versed in social innuendo, cryptography is my chosen field. So I will try and break this, as one might call it, 'code'."

After a pause of contemplation, he looks at Lacomte again, and comes up with an interesting idea. After a polite bow and an "Excuse us for a moment please, Brother Dupin.", he takes a clumsy attempt at moving away, taking the librarian apart.

"I could keep you updated, I suppose. I'm trying to establish myself at the University of Dementlieu, and aquire a seat in the math department there. If you would be so kind to recommend me there, I could instantly share my findings with you. I don't know how much this information would mean to you, but a 'business agreement', if you would pardon my choice of words, might be beneficial in more ways." he blurts out, after which he anxiously awaits Lacomtes reply.
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Post by Nathan of the FoS »

Glim wrote:"Not at present, Sir. And although I'm not well versed in social innuendo, cryptography is my chosen field. So I will try and break this, as one might call it, 'code'."

After a pause of contemplation, he looks at Lacomte again, and comes up with an interesting idea. After a polite bow and an "Excuse us for a moment please, Brother Dupin.", he takes a clumsy attempt at moving away, taking the librarian apart.

"I could keep you updated, I suppose. I'm trying to establish myself at the University of Dementlieu, and aquire a seat in the math department there. If you would be so kind to recommend me there, I could instantly share my findings with you. I don't know how much this information would mean to you, but a 'business agreement', if you would pardon my choice of words, might be beneficial in more ways." he blurts out, after which he anxiously awaits Lacomtes reply.
Lacomte raises one fine eyebrow very slightly at the Rajian's rather crude quid pro quo, but seems to take no offense. "Unfortunately, Brother Tuyuz, we have been warned away from the University at present; our political leaders are wary of any power center not well under their control taking form in Dementlieu, and Father de Casteelle has decided it prudent not to tempt fate by assembling too many of our number at the University. I have heard of mathematical fellowships being made available at the Institut de Etudes Superiores; the stipend is not so good as a professor's, but the opportunities for study are unmatched; and one is, of course, nearer the center of things. Sadly, even among our number it is who one knows that really clinches one's advancement."
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Post by Nathan of the FoS »

Rotipher of the FoS wrote:
"But moreover, I often question whether the boundaries between artiste and academic are so strictly-drawn as common definitions care to render them. Is it not by tales and songs that mankind's more primitive cultures pass on their collective lore, or by which its youngest of pupils begin their own education in the nursery? Storytellers were humankind's first professors; for the Kartakans, the Forfarian druids, even the Vistani, they remain so to this day ... and likely hold their students' attentions more keenly than many a dreary lecturerer! Poetry and song, Your Ladyship, are the living libraries of those peoples whose way of life is ill-conducive to literacy, and to disparage such potential sources of insight for a mere failing of penmanship is to overlook vast realms of untapped knowledge which contemporary life -- however comfortable -- has imprudently left to fall by the wayside."
"Spoken with bardic eloquence, though one is, perhaps, inclined to suspect you of favoritism?" the Countess replies, with just a hint of mockery in her jesting manner. "It is therefore pursuit of all the Muses that brings you here. A high hunt indeed, Brother Crow."
Crow blinks, shakes his head slightly, as if realizing he's let his 'dashing bard' pose of gallantry slip. He grins, nods at Kingsley again.

"In any case," he resumes, stepping back slightly to draw the Zherisian into the dialogue and letting the jaunty air of a rascal reassert itself in his voice. "The professor can surely attest that I am much of a piece with my fellows of bardic stripe, in that I would sooner be caught being dead than being boring. (The 'cardinal sin', I believe you called it, Madam...?) By my participation with the Fraternity, I can enhance my own stature in both worlds: amongst the Brethren, I stand out with distinction as a witty and cunning tongue amidst dry-spoken, bookish academicians; to fellow-musicians at large, conversely, I effortlessly win a reputation as a scholar par excellence, merely by a rumored association with world-renowned experts. Thus, I can reap the attention and interest which is every bard's bread and butter from both these peer-groups ... and without the unseemly inconvenience of having to make myself particularly useful, in any practical sense of the word."
"Truly, it is a hard world which expects utility of one so ornamental," the blonde noblewoman agrees, inclining her head in mock commiseration. "But surely a man so adapted for all seasons cannot be content with mere outward show and flourish? The Muses yield up their charms to no dilettantes, Brother Crow."


Llana wrote: She hesitated at the mention of the alliance between herself and the Countess. She did consider van Lovenhorst an ally, but not one she’d name publicly. She didn’t like to presume on their acquaintance, especially considering her relative anonymity and lack of status within the Fraternity. Whatever favours she’d received had been earned, in her eyes, and would always remain so. She certainly did not plan to air her hopes about mentoring, especially after her poor comprehension of the Shadowcloak’s presentation. Still, an answer was required, and she didn’t wish there to be any perception of ingratitude, or familiarity. “The Countess has been kind enough to give me hope in such a venture,” she said, with a smiling nod towards the blonde. “As to the breaching of the strictures…” the professor shrugged. “I must be honest and admit that it is less the product of my own talents than the generosity and open-mindedness of Brothers like Larner and Count von Lovenhorst. I can only hope to live up to the example before me, and to encourage other brothers to consider the wisdom of those who have already disregarded this rule.” There was much else that she would have loved to add, but there were still many around, and she didn’t care to have her words misconstrued.
"Let us first be sure a breach has been made, before we storm the bastions arrayed against us," the Countess says drily. "Sure there is no fortress like a closed mind. My own situation can hardly be considered typical; it lies with strivers less advantaged in their connections," here the Countess feints at a curtsey to Crow and Kingsley, "to make clear the lay of the land. But that is a subject which demands a more propitious time." By the slightest of gestures she indicates the brothers surrounding the trio, hinting that this is a theme which ought not to be raised in the presence of so many potentially hostile hearers.
[b]FEAR JUSTICE.[/b] :elena:
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Post by alhoon »

Draxton returning from a trip to the men's room, repositions himself near Buchvold speaking about magic of the senses and the sentient mind with a couple of other members.

OOC: Draxton keeps an ear out while conversing to catch where Buchvold will sleep that night.
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