The Eye of Anubis: Book One
- NeoTiamat
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The Eye of Anubis: Book One
March 14th, 761
Guignol Reception Hall, University of Dementlieu, Port-a-Lucine, Dementlieu
The eve of the Menetnashte Expedition’s departure
“…And so let me be the first to say to the world that Knowledge shall triumph, that the vile canker of ignorance shall be cured by elixirs of understanding, and that this expedition, the Menetnashte Expedition, shall be victorious in its quest for the truth. Brave explorers, seekers of wisdom, I and all of Dementlieu salutes thee!”
There was a rousing ovation for Lord Balfour de Casteelle as he finished his two-hour speech, though how much of this was for Lord de Casteelle’s oratorical skill and how much for the opportunity to finally raid the buffet table you couldn’t quite tell. A buzz of conversation arose within the University of Dementlieu’s Chambon Auditorium, and the huge crowd, scholars and students, old aristocrats and nouveau-riche began to move to the Guignol Reception Hall adjoining.
The twenty-three members of the Menetnashte expedition, dressed in their finest suits and most decorous dresses, were seated in the front of the chamber, and perforce had to wait until the swell and crush of humanity had subsided enough for the group to work their way into the Guignol Reception Hall. No less than the other guests, the members of the Expedition were hungry and more than a little tired. It was late in the day, and they had been listening to speakers since lunch time seven hours ago. And being, as they were, the stars of the show, they couldn’t even snatch a short rest, though you had the sinking suspicion that some of the group had managed to sleep with their eyes open.
When the members of the Menetnashte Expedition finally reached the Hall, a short, spontaneous cheer greeted them, the public acknowledging the heroes of the hour. The Hall itself was a large room, the scene of dozens of great ceremonies, hundreds of graduations, and countless, interminable academic parties. A dozen sparkling chandelier of crystal and light sparkled above the populace, while the gold-curtained windows were nearly forty feet tall, panes of glass as high as a man guarding firmly against the chill March rain outside. A score of long tables, dressed like bridesmaids in their long, white tablecloth, bore the results of work by the finest caterers in Port-a-Lucine. Silver tureens of punch stood alongside the great platters of little sandwiches, while here and there heartier fare interspersed the light food, roast duck and fine soup and good bread. It was a feast.
Professors in black gowns pontificated to nervous-looking graduate students, while noble matrons schemed and gossiped in little circles and young men and women played the game of courtship amidst the University of Dementlieu’s splendor. Scattered throughout the crowd of minor nobility and scholars were greater figures. There, the Falkovnian Ambassador, Marcos Vedarrak, chatted idly with Helene deSuis of the Council of Brilliance, who laughed at one of the charming Talon’s witty remarks. A scant dozen feet away, the Monsieur François de Penible and Lord Adrian Ramsey traded acid academic barbs, de Penible’s voice growing heated in the exchange. Further in a corner, Josephine Chantreaux, also of the Council of Brilliance, scowled at the sight of deSuis and Vedarrak in such friendly conversation.
All had turned out for the triumphant launching of the Menetnashte Expedition.
Guignol Reception Hall, University of Dementlieu, Port-a-Lucine, Dementlieu
The eve of the Menetnashte Expedition’s departure
“…And so let me be the first to say to the world that Knowledge shall triumph, that the vile canker of ignorance shall be cured by elixirs of understanding, and that this expedition, the Menetnashte Expedition, shall be victorious in its quest for the truth. Brave explorers, seekers of wisdom, I and all of Dementlieu salutes thee!”
There was a rousing ovation for Lord Balfour de Casteelle as he finished his two-hour speech, though how much of this was for Lord de Casteelle’s oratorical skill and how much for the opportunity to finally raid the buffet table you couldn’t quite tell. A buzz of conversation arose within the University of Dementlieu’s Chambon Auditorium, and the huge crowd, scholars and students, old aristocrats and nouveau-riche began to move to the Guignol Reception Hall adjoining.
The twenty-three members of the Menetnashte expedition, dressed in their finest suits and most decorous dresses, were seated in the front of the chamber, and perforce had to wait until the swell and crush of humanity had subsided enough for the group to work their way into the Guignol Reception Hall. No less than the other guests, the members of the Expedition were hungry and more than a little tired. It was late in the day, and they had been listening to speakers since lunch time seven hours ago. And being, as they were, the stars of the show, they couldn’t even snatch a short rest, though you had the sinking suspicion that some of the group had managed to sleep with their eyes open.
When the members of the Menetnashte Expedition finally reached the Hall, a short, spontaneous cheer greeted them, the public acknowledging the heroes of the hour. The Hall itself was a large room, the scene of dozens of great ceremonies, hundreds of graduations, and countless, interminable academic parties. A dozen sparkling chandelier of crystal and light sparkled above the populace, while the gold-curtained windows were nearly forty feet tall, panes of glass as high as a man guarding firmly against the chill March rain outside. A score of long tables, dressed like bridesmaids in their long, white tablecloth, bore the results of work by the finest caterers in Port-a-Lucine. Silver tureens of punch stood alongside the great platters of little sandwiches, while here and there heartier fare interspersed the light food, roast duck and fine soup and good bread. It was a feast.
Professors in black gowns pontificated to nervous-looking graduate students, while noble matrons schemed and gossiped in little circles and young men and women played the game of courtship amidst the University of Dementlieu’s splendor. Scattered throughout the crowd of minor nobility and scholars were greater figures. There, the Falkovnian Ambassador, Marcos Vedarrak, chatted idly with Helene deSuis of the Council of Brilliance, who laughed at one of the charming Talon’s witty remarks. A scant dozen feet away, the Monsieur François de Penible and Lord Adrian Ramsey traded acid academic barbs, de Penible’s voice growing heated in the exchange. Further in a corner, Josephine Chantreaux, also of the Council of Brilliance, scowled at the sight of deSuis and Vedarrak in such friendly conversation.
All had turned out for the triumphant launching of the Menetnashte Expedition.
Ravenloft GM: Eye of Anubis, Shattered City, and Prof. Lupescu's Traveling Ghost Show
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing
2 hours before the presentation of the Menetnashte Expedition’s
Ulsaon looked at Allikhain. "Come on now. It won't hurt you to dress up a little for once in your life." She told her.
"I don't see why I should. I'd rather rest before leaving for god knows where tomorrow. But no they want to show us off to the public? Well I am a guard so I'll go as one, dressed as I was hired" she answered Ulsaon before adding.
"Well the good thing that will come out of it is I will see who we'll be traveling with and I'll judge for myself if we'll make up a good party or not, Ulsaon."
"You can be such a party pooper sometimes, Allikhain" Ulsaon pouted as he adjusted her dress robe to fit her taut body. "Suit yourself. I'll at least have some fun and revel in the attention before we leave in the morning."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
During the speech, Allikhain tried to observe the other party members and gauge their usefulness to the expedition, but with minimum success. Speaking with them will give me a better idea on that front. That Lord sure is longwinded to speak that long. And the whole crowd just ate it up.
Allikhain shrugged. Once the speech was over she nodded politely once to Ulsaon and wandered around the halll, quiet, keeping to herself. She definitely looked out of place dressed to travel, but thought it a waste of time and effort to dress up. As she wandered the hall amongst the expedition members and invited guests, she noted the other guards and scholars.
Ulsaon fidgeted during the whole speech. This is so boring! She scanned the other party members and stopped at the elf. SHe almost did a doubletake. Rare are elves. I think perhaps I might be in luck to learn some of the elves here in this land. She smiled to herslef.
Once the speech was over and the applause had died. the mingling began. Ulsaon nodded back to Allikhain and headed for the elf. She approached her wth a smile and tried to make eye contact with her. Moving to stand before her, she spoke. "Please excuse me. I am Ulsaon, one of the guards for the expedition. It's a pleasure meeting one such as you here this evening."
Lowering her voice she continued "I haven't seen many of my or your kind here. How is that you come to be on the expedition? My friend and I " Ulsaon points out Allikhain ib the crowd "Were hired by the University after having heard about the expedition in the city. We're obviously not from Dementlieu."
Ulsaon looked at Allikhain. "Come on now. It won't hurt you to dress up a little for once in your life." She told her.
"I don't see why I should. I'd rather rest before leaving for god knows where tomorrow. But no they want to show us off to the public? Well I am a guard so I'll go as one, dressed as I was hired" she answered Ulsaon before adding.
"Well the good thing that will come out of it is I will see who we'll be traveling with and I'll judge for myself if we'll make up a good party or not, Ulsaon."
"You can be such a party pooper sometimes, Allikhain" Ulsaon pouted as he adjusted her dress robe to fit her taut body. "Suit yourself. I'll at least have some fun and revel in the attention before we leave in the morning."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
During the speech, Allikhain tried to observe the other party members and gauge their usefulness to the expedition, but with minimum success. Speaking with them will give me a better idea on that front. That Lord sure is longwinded to speak that long. And the whole crowd just ate it up.
Allikhain shrugged. Once the speech was over she nodded politely once to Ulsaon and wandered around the halll, quiet, keeping to herself. She definitely looked out of place dressed to travel, but thought it a waste of time and effort to dress up. As she wandered the hall amongst the expedition members and invited guests, she noted the other guards and scholars.
Ulsaon fidgeted during the whole speech. This is so boring! She scanned the other party members and stopped at the elf. SHe almost did a doubletake. Rare are elves. I think perhaps I might be in luck to learn some of the elves here in this land. She smiled to herslef.
Once the speech was over and the applause had died. the mingling began. Ulsaon nodded back to Allikhain and headed for the elf. She approached her wth a smile and tried to make eye contact with her. Moving to stand before her, she spoke. "Please excuse me. I am Ulsaon, one of the guards for the expedition. It's a pleasure meeting one such as you here this evening."
Lowering her voice she continued "I haven't seen many of my or your kind here. How is that you come to be on the expedition? My friend and I " Ulsaon points out Allikhain ib the crowd "Were hired by the University after having heard about the expedition in the city. We're obviously not from Dementlieu."
- NeoTiamat
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Ulsaon--------------------------------------------------------------------
The elf-woman turned to gaze at Ulsaon, her eyes traveling up and down the half-elf. They were green, a sparkling, emerald green like that of dew on spring grass. Her features were quite neutral, though they softened somewhat at realizing Ulsaon wasn't another human.
"Gre-eetings," the elf-woman said haltingly, a strange accent to her speech. "I am Sarari, from the forests of Sithicus. I too, was hired by the University."
Sarari waits for a while, staring off into the distance, before continuing.
"It is strange to see so many people in one place. I am not used to this."
Allikhain-------------------------------------------------------------------
"Ooof! Oh my, pray excuse me!" The man had walked right into Allikhain, his nose firmly in a book of some sort, a pencil in hand as he scribbled away. The book and pencil went flying, and the mans glasses went firmly askew.
"Oh, so very sorry, I am dreadfully clumsy." He said as he went on his hands and knees to recover the wayward tome. "My name is Charles. Professor Devereux. You're not hurt, I hope?"
He looked up at Allikhain with concerned brown eyes.
![Image](http://kaitoukage.net/dnd/ravenloft/sarari.gif)
"Gre-eetings," the elf-woman said haltingly, a strange accent to her speech. "I am Sarari, from the forests of Sithicus. I too, was hired by the University."
Sarari waits for a while, staring off into the distance, before continuing.
"It is strange to see so many people in one place. I am not used to this."
Allikhain-------------------------------------------------------------------
![Image](http://kaitoukage.net/dnd/ravenloft/charles.gif)
"Oh, so very sorry, I am dreadfully clumsy." He said as he went on his hands and knees to recover the wayward tome. "My name is Charles. Professor Devereux. You're not hurt, I hope?"
He looked up at Allikhain with concerned brown eyes.
Ravenloft GM: Eye of Anubis, Shattered City, and Prof. Lupescu's Traveling Ghost Show
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing
- yalenusveler
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The fact that the speech was a formality was cold comfort to Andre, sitting in his seat, and wondering if this was, perchance, how his students felt during some of his more lengthy lectures. No..surely not, his lectures were at least somewhat interesting. At least once it finally ended, there was food available.
Andre had sort of distanced himself from much of the chatting going on, nursing a plate of food and a glass of punch, unable to really keep his mind on the food. Why they couldn't just set out on the expedition instead of wasting time like this, a mystery the world will never solve. His grey eyes cast over those he recognized as fellow members of the expedition...and the Falkovnian ambassador. Yes, let's speak of intelligence and learning, scholarship and wisdom, and then invite an ambassador from a nation that seemed devoted to ignorance and squalor. The thought was almost enough to put Andre off his food...almost. Either way, it kept him quietly to himself in a corner, staring daggers at deSuis and Verdarrak.
He sighed to himself, and muttered "Perhaps we shall be lucky, and a curse will pass over us and strike them both dead." His statement punctuated by polishing off his glass.
Andre had sort of distanced himself from much of the chatting going on, nursing a plate of food and a glass of punch, unable to really keep his mind on the food. Why they couldn't just set out on the expedition instead of wasting time like this, a mystery the world will never solve. His grey eyes cast over those he recognized as fellow members of the expedition...and the Falkovnian ambassador. Yes, let's speak of intelligence and learning, scholarship and wisdom, and then invite an ambassador from a nation that seemed devoted to ignorance and squalor. The thought was almost enough to put Andre off his food...almost. Either way, it kept him quietly to himself in a corner, staring daggers at deSuis and Verdarrak.
He sighed to himself, and muttered "Perhaps we shall be lucky, and a curse will pass over us and strike them both dead." His statement punctuated by polishing off his glass.
"Sometimes, Mr.Liquor cabinet is my only friend"
- NeoTiamat
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Andre----------------------------------------------------------------------
With a polite nod and a rogueish wink, Vedarrak begged his leave of Lady deSuis to go meet the other members of the Menetnashte Expedition. He gazed about the room, his pale blue eyes cold until they met with Andre's. Bowing ironically to Lady Chantreaux, the ambassador strode across the room to the corner where the professor of Theology was nursing his food.
Vedarrak was a commanding presence, a man of average height and broad shoulders, clean-shaven and with short-cut blond hair. He was dressed in the military uniform of the Talons, which, though somewhat ceremonial, included an eminently functional longsword.
"Ah, Professor Theroux, I am honored to meet you." Vedarrak's voice was soft and accentless, as he stretched out his hand towards Andre. "Your papers are much translated in Falkovnia, and I had hoped to see you here tonight."
With a polite nod and a rogueish wink, Vedarrak begged his leave of Lady deSuis to go meet the other members of the Menetnashte Expedition. He gazed about the room, his pale blue eyes cold until they met with Andre's. Bowing ironically to Lady Chantreaux, the ambassador strode across the room to the corner where the professor of Theology was nursing his food.
Vedarrak was a commanding presence, a man of average height and broad shoulders, clean-shaven and with short-cut blond hair. He was dressed in the military uniform of the Talons, which, though somewhat ceremonial, included an eminently functional longsword.
"Ah, Professor Theroux, I am honored to meet you." Vedarrak's voice was soft and accentless, as he stretched out his hand towards Andre. "Your papers are much translated in Falkovnia, and I had hoped to see you here tonight."
Ravenloft GM: Eye of Anubis, Shattered City, and Prof. Lupescu's Traveling Ghost Show
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing
- The Whistler
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The blond, slightly portly Lamordian glanced momentarily up from the buffet table, tongs still in hand--and blanched slightly despite himself, self-consciously adjusting the edge of his (rented) cravat so that it aligned more precisely with the collar of his (also rented) dress shirt. No matter how many times he saw the University’s student body assembled en masse, the riot of color always took him aback--come to think of it, he felt the same way whenever he saw more than ten Dementlieuse in a room at once. You’re a long way from Andermatt, Herr Schultheiss...
He smiled to himself: a small, wry, smile. But that, after all, is the point. Hilde and the forge will wait there for you--now that you are here, would it hurt you to be a little optimistic?
A cough to his right reminded him that he was holding up the buffet line. With a circumspect apology and a good bit of sidling, he cleared the crowd around the table with a half-laden plate, and paused to survey the room more carefully.
They expect me to mingle, so I might as well have a go... Let’s see. That young, frizzy-haired student in the front row next to Devereaux seemed pleasant enough--and also a Lamordian, come to think of it--but even though Otto had a good several inches over most of the crowd, he couldn’t pick the man out. On the other hand, there was someone he’d been meaning to have a proper conversation with ever since he’d enrolled.
Spotting the appropriate head a few dozen yards away, the gunsmith elbowed his way through the crowd as politely as possible, eventually halting in front of his favorite professor with a wide grin and an extended hand. He spoke in enthusiastic tones, cut through with the sharp consonants and precise enunciation of a still-noticeable Lamordian accent:
“Hello, Professor Pelletier! Otto Schultheiss; I am your travelling companion as well as your devoted student. And may I say, I have found your Introductory Arcane Theory lecture fascinating for some long time--only the number of students has kept me from letting you know in person.”
He smiled to himself: a small, wry, smile. But that, after all, is the point. Hilde and the forge will wait there for you--now that you are here, would it hurt you to be a little optimistic?
A cough to his right reminded him that he was holding up the buffet line. With a circumspect apology and a good bit of sidling, he cleared the crowd around the table with a half-laden plate, and paused to survey the room more carefully.
They expect me to mingle, so I might as well have a go... Let’s see. That young, frizzy-haired student in the front row next to Devereaux seemed pleasant enough--and also a Lamordian, come to think of it--but even though Otto had a good several inches over most of the crowd, he couldn’t pick the man out. On the other hand, there was someone he’d been meaning to have a proper conversation with ever since he’d enrolled.
Spotting the appropriate head a few dozen yards away, the gunsmith elbowed his way through the crowd as politely as possible, eventually halting in front of his favorite professor with a wide grin and an extended hand. He spoke in enthusiastic tones, cut through with the sharp consonants and precise enunciation of a still-noticeable Lamordian accent:
“Hello, Professor Pelletier! Otto Schultheiss; I am your travelling companion as well as your devoted student. And may I say, I have found your Introductory Arcane Theory lecture fascinating for some long time--only the number of students has kept me from letting you know in person.”
- yalenusveler
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Andre looked up from his plate of food, and tried to think of how to reply, his handshake almost a bit mechanical. "I must admit...I find myself more than a touch surprised my work had reached Falkovnia, but I assure you, the surprise is only pleasant." It was difficult for the young professor to hide how unnerved he was. Though He was only half Darkonese, His mother's stories of family lost in the Dead Man's Campaigns still rung in his ears. Though Andre liked to think himself above such petty concerns as politics, sometimes things such as they were hard to shake. "I hope to be able to publish quite a bit more after we return from the expedition. More for you to pour over, I should hope!" a bit of a smile actually spreading across his features. Intellectual pride was, for the moment, winning over politics.
"Sometimes, Mr.Liquor cabinet is my only friend"
- NeoTiamat
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Otto-----------------------------------------------------------------------
The elderly professor of history and arcane sciences turned from his conversational companion to look at Otto, his eyes widening in recognition.
"Ah, Otto! Yes, yes, my boy, I remember you, though you do me too much honor." The professor took off his monocle and buffed it on his black academician's robe. "In fact, I was just saying to Lord Balfour here how wonderful it is to have our northern neighbors so interested in the Arcane Sciences."
Suddenly, Otto realized just who Prof. Pelletier had been speaking with. Lord Balfour de Casteelle, President of the University of Dementlieu, and the principal patron of the Menetnashte Expedition, smiled at Otto.
"It is always good to see anyone, be they Lamordian or Hazlani, with a proper thirst for knowledge." Lord Balfour inclined his head regally, continuing in his calm voice. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Schultheiss."
Andre--------------------------------------------------------------------
"Yes.... I can imagine your surprise." Vedarrak's smile had a certain coldly amused quality. "Your works are occasionally read within the Radiant Tower, whose activities I fancy myself a patron of."
"But I'm sure you'd much rather tell me about your work for this Expedition. I take it you are something of an authority on the Akiri deities...?"
![Image](http://kaitoukage.net/dnd/ravenloft/jean-jacques.gif)
"Ah, Otto! Yes, yes, my boy, I remember you, though you do me too much honor." The professor took off his monocle and buffed it on his black academician's robe. "In fact, I was just saying to Lord Balfour here how wonderful it is to have our northern neighbors so interested in the Arcane Sciences."
Suddenly, Otto realized just who Prof. Pelletier had been speaking with. Lord Balfour de Casteelle, President of the University of Dementlieu, and the principal patron of the Menetnashte Expedition, smiled at Otto.
"It is always good to see anyone, be they Lamordian or Hazlani, with a proper thirst for knowledge." Lord Balfour inclined his head regally, continuing in his calm voice. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Schultheiss."
Andre--------------------------------------------------------------------
"Yes.... I can imagine your surprise." Vedarrak's smile had a certain coldly amused quality. "Your works are occasionally read within the Radiant Tower, whose activities I fancy myself a patron of."
"But I'm sure you'd much rather tell me about your work for this Expedition. I take it you are something of an authority on the Akiri deities...?"
Ravenloft GM: Eye of Anubis, Shattered City, and Prof. Lupescu's Traveling Ghost Show
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing
"Verdamnit lo-" Tomas managed to get inside the room without tripping over his too-large waistcoat or his too-small shoes. The fact that he got inside just as the applause started doesn't keep the young man from clapping eagerly and with abandon; after all, the speech /must/ have been good!
His mighty hair, the reason for his tardiness, was eventually just stuffed underneith a graduate student's cap; not the most elegant of solutions, but at least he won't humiliate the Professor, Tomas reasons. "Yes, that certainly was a rousing speech, eh?!" Tomas exclaims a little too heartily, patting the shoulder of whatever unfortunate is nearest to him in the traditional manner of large, slightly nervous young men everywhere. "Those words his Lordship said were...loquatious!"
His mighty hair, the reason for his tardiness, was eventually just stuffed underneith a graduate student's cap; not the most elegant of solutions, but at least he won't humiliate the Professor, Tomas reasons. "Yes, that certainly was a rousing speech, eh?!" Tomas exclaims a little too heartily, patting the shoulder of whatever unfortunate is nearest to him in the traditional manner of large, slightly nervous young men everywhere. "Those words his Lordship said were...loquatious!"
- yalenusveler
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Andre smiled, only a slight bit smug. "Of course. They're one of my areas of expertise. Mostly why I'm going along, in fact." The young professor chuckled a bit "I certainly must say they're a good bit more colorful than the divinities one would usually find given worship locally."
"Sometimes, Mr.Liquor cabinet is my only friend"
- Kaitou Kage
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Kuzan felt distinctly out of place. Sure, he'd combed his hair neatly and taken a very relaxing, long bath before coming to this pomp. But he stood out like a sore thumb. And how.
His skin carried an olive tone, but unlike most attendees of the reception, Kuzan bore a deep tan from a life spent out in the sun. He wore a sky-blue robe wrapped around his body. The bright color contrasted sharply with his sun-touched skin, adding to the awkward look. The robe bared his right shoulder and arm fully, and covered the other. Silver and gold bordered the edges of the fabric and shot through the robe in streaks from his left shoulder like sunlight shining across his figure. The gilded thread glittered, matching the gleam in his eyes. As if to match the stark contrast of the robe on his skin, he covered his feet only in simple sandals that seemed just as out of place on him as he looked in the rest of the party.
The young priest milled about quietly. If he knew enough about Dementliese high society, he might actually be able to mingle and strike up conversation. But a ship-priest who lived in Tvashtri nearly all of his life didn't get much opportunity to study the mores and norms of party etiquette among Dementlieu's elite.
Even more, they all wore such stuffy and tight clothing. The very thought of trying to fit into some of the suits the professors and students wore made Kuzan fidget uncomfortably. What's more, he'd seen plenty of others wearing similar clothing as if it were daily attire. The priest simply couldn't wrap his brain around the thought of wearing such constrictive clothing. Maybe it wasn't so bad once you put it on...
...But Kuzan didn't feel any motivation to try.
The buffet table looked popular and the young man felt his stomach agree with the idea of getting food. From a distance, the food looked remarkably light, nothing like the hearty, heavy, somewhat simple fare he'd grown used to. But when in Dementlieu...
He slowly picked his way toward the buffet, ignoring and deflecting glances of curiousity, bewilderment, and the occasional ire at his alien attire. If there was one thing he hoped to get out of this party, it was a full stomach.
His skin carried an olive tone, but unlike most attendees of the reception, Kuzan bore a deep tan from a life spent out in the sun. He wore a sky-blue robe wrapped around his body. The bright color contrasted sharply with his sun-touched skin, adding to the awkward look. The robe bared his right shoulder and arm fully, and covered the other. Silver and gold bordered the edges of the fabric and shot through the robe in streaks from his left shoulder like sunlight shining across his figure. The gilded thread glittered, matching the gleam in his eyes. As if to match the stark contrast of the robe on his skin, he covered his feet only in simple sandals that seemed just as out of place on him as he looked in the rest of the party.
The young priest milled about quietly. If he knew enough about Dementliese high society, he might actually be able to mingle and strike up conversation. But a ship-priest who lived in Tvashtri nearly all of his life didn't get much opportunity to study the mores and norms of party etiquette among Dementlieu's elite.
Even more, they all wore such stuffy and tight clothing. The very thought of trying to fit into some of the suits the professors and students wore made Kuzan fidget uncomfortably. What's more, he'd seen plenty of others wearing similar clothing as if it were daily attire. The priest simply couldn't wrap his brain around the thought of wearing such constrictive clothing. Maybe it wasn't so bad once you put it on...
...But Kuzan didn't feel any motivation to try.
The buffet table looked popular and the young man felt his stomach agree with the idea of getting food. From a distance, the food looked remarkably light, nothing like the hearty, heavy, somewhat simple fare he'd grown used to. But when in Dementlieu...
He slowly picked his way toward the buffet, ignoring and deflecting glances of curiousity, bewilderment, and the occasional ire at his alien attire. If there was one thing he hoped to get out of this party, it was a full stomach.
- NeoTiamat
- Evil Genius
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- Joined: Tue Sep 12, 2006 5:00 pm
- Gender: Male
- Location: Boston, Massachusetts, USA
Tomas---------------------------------------------------------------------
The man jerked as if stung from Tomas's friendly pat. He turned, an ill-shaven, rough-hewn man perhaps a head shorter than the Lamordian, and snarled at him.
"Keep your hand to yourself, unless you want to lose it." With a flash of steely grey eyes, the man made his exit through the crowd, roughly shouldering an overstuffed matron out of the way.
"Sorry about that, Jervis doesn't like being touched." The young voice came from behind Tomas. A fresh-faced young fellow, slim and blond, nodded to him. "Name's Dieter. You're Tomas I think? I'm from Lamordia too."
The youth stuck his hand out to Tomas.
Andre-----------------------------------------------------------------------
"Really now....?" The Falkovnian drawled, his cold blue eyes still amused. "One would think the Ezrites with their four-fold religion and that heathen death-worship in Darkon would be colorful enough for any normal purpose."
Kuzan----------------------------------------------------------------------
"You know, they look sort of like a flock of carrion crows trying to each get the most from a dead cow." The raven-haired man behind Kuzan waved his hand airily about, encompassing the black-robed professors and the ornate dance about the buffet table. He was a slim, wiry man, with sharp features and misty, hypnotic grey eyes. He looked much the raven himself, in a black doublet and shirt, making his face seem even more pale.
"You would be Kuzan, the Sri Rajian." The strange man took an appraising look at Kuzan, standing out like a bluejay amongst crows in his sky-blue robe and exotic style. "Call it a lucky guess."
![Image](http://kaitoukage.net/dnd/ravenloft/jervis.gif)
"Keep your hand to yourself, unless you want to lose it." With a flash of steely grey eyes, the man made his exit through the crowd, roughly shouldering an overstuffed matron out of the way.
![Image](http://kaitoukage.net/dnd/ravenloft/dieter.gif)
The youth stuck his hand out to Tomas.
Andre-----------------------------------------------------------------------
"Really now....?" The Falkovnian drawled, his cold blue eyes still amused. "One would think the Ezrites with their four-fold religion and that heathen death-worship in Darkon would be colorful enough for any normal purpose."
Kuzan----------------------------------------------------------------------
![Image](http://kaitoukage.net/dnd/ravenloft/samael.gif)
"You would be Kuzan, the Sri Rajian." The strange man took an appraising look at Kuzan, standing out like a bluejay amongst crows in his sky-blue robe and exotic style. "Call it a lucky guess."
Ravenloft GM: Eye of Anubis, Shattered City, and Prof. Lupescu's Traveling Ghost Show
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing
"Oh, golly, I'm sor-" Tomas is cut off by Jervis's rant and storm off, his genuine regret quickly souring as he sees the man shove an old woman out of the way.
"Certainly doesn't mind spreading it around, does he?" Tomas replies to Dieter, smiling again and shaking the man's hand. "Tomas Eisenwald, that's right. I was suprised at how many Lamordians are on this trip; I suppose fellows like us can't afford to waste a chance to get some actual sun, no?"
"Certainly doesn't mind spreading it around, does he?" Tomas replies to Dieter, smiling again and shaking the man's hand. "Tomas Eisenwald, that's right. I was suprised at how many Lamordians are on this trip; I suppose fellows like us can't afford to waste a chance to get some actual sun, no?"
- Nathan of the FoS
- Fiendish Enforcer
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Charles Martel applauds politely at the end of de Casteelle's speech, then rises, looking around the room with the air of a soldier ending another day's hard march. "It could have been worse," he says to no-one in particular, collecting his entirely unreadable notes.
As he gazes around those present he spies the Falkovnian ambassaor--the one whose father left Dementlieu under such embarassing circumstances--what was his name again? Smiling very slightly under his elegant mustachio, he approaches the hawk-branded man as he engages in conversation with Professor Theroux.
"Ambassador Vedarrak, Professor Theroux," he says, bowing to the precise degree etiquette prescribes to each. "To what do we owe the honor of your presence, Ambassador? I can hardly believe the Kingfuhrer will demand to know the nature and aims of our own little campaign."
As he gazes around those present he spies the Falkovnian ambassaor--the one whose father left Dementlieu under such embarassing circumstances--what was his name again? Smiling very slightly under his elegant mustachio, he approaches the hawk-branded man as he engages in conversation with Professor Theroux.
"Ambassador Vedarrak, Professor Theroux," he says, bowing to the precise degree etiquette prescribes to each. "To what do we owe the honor of your presence, Ambassador? I can hardly believe the Kingfuhrer will demand to know the nature and aims of our own little campaign."
[b]FEAR JUSTICE.[/b] :elena:
- Rock of the Fraternity
- Evil Genius
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"Two hours," Lia thought as she entered the Guignol Hall, giving the appearance of being lost in thought. "Two hours of pretty words where half an hour - at most - would have sufficed." She shook her head; a tiny motion hopefully lost within her hood. "Two hours we could have better spent packing and otherwise preparing for the trip."
Doing her best not to meet the eyes of anyone she knew, Lia ghosted her way to the buffet and filled a simple plate and took a glass of red wine. "Now, then ... Where to stand, to observe?" Lia looked left and right. Her eyes widened slightly, unseen behind mask and veil, when she caught a glimpse of Balfour de Casteelle, quite nearby. That was one person she did not fancy talking to right now. It might be good if she could find professor Carter; securing the position as his assistant had practically obliged her to draw blood, yet the man was difficult to find and talk to. Perhaps professor Theroux --?
Lia gasped when she spotted the huge Talon near the professor and shrank back. Hoping her humble scholar's robes would keep her from standing out among the pomp and flash of the university's peers, she started making her way around the room to get away from the man. Just let her find a quiet spot, where she could slightly adjust her mask and eat and drink a little, without showing anything of her face. A place away from that creature.
Doing her best not to meet the eyes of anyone she knew, Lia ghosted her way to the buffet and filled a simple plate and took a glass of red wine. "Now, then ... Where to stand, to observe?" Lia looked left and right. Her eyes widened slightly, unseen behind mask and veil, when she caught a glimpse of Balfour de Casteelle, quite nearby. That was one person she did not fancy talking to right now. It might be good if she could find professor Carter; securing the position as his assistant had practically obliged her to draw blood, yet the man was difficult to find and talk to. Perhaps professor Theroux --?
Lia gasped when she spotted the huge Talon near the professor and shrank back. Hoping her humble scholar's robes would keep her from standing out among the pomp and flash of the university's peers, she started making her way around the room to get away from the man. Just let her find a quiet spot, where she could slightly adjust her mask and eat and drink a little, without showing anything of her face. A place away from that creature.