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Charles Devereux turned a violet, unblinking stare onto Eisenwald. "You're not someone to say that... to me, Tomas," he said very softly. "Our... friends are out there."Tomas wrote:"Professor." Tomas tries again, "I think you've been effected by whatever's driven the city mad. While some people are subject to their baser impulses, others are pushed to nobility-often dangerously so. Is going out in...that really going to help anyone?"
Devereux was normally a man somewhat reminiscent of a small fuzzy rodent, or a comical stork, but at the moment he resembled more a coiled serpent, sitting in a crevice - not currently aggressive, but capable of becoming so in a very fast amount of time.
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"Aperio!"
The door of the Chateau, which had been closed after Devereux's arrival, slammed open now, borne open by a thrust of arcane power. The hinges rattled, and a nearby statue shifted a centimeter or so on its base. Framed in the doorway was the massive bulk of Professor Evariste Lemercier, his dinner jacket torn, mask lost, and his nose bleeding profusely, staining his shirt bloody. Normally, it was easy to dismiss Lemercier as old, genial, and decidedly pear-shaped, but his grim air now reminded one of another fact, that the old man was also a very large man. And other aspects were less apparent, but the penumbra of chilling shadows that swirled around Lemercier as he crossed the threshold was mute testament to the dangers of an angry mage.
He was followed closely by Prof. Seiglinde Petrik. Her mask was still on, and possibly miraculously, she was still in the high heels to which she had ventured to the Gallery. She surveyed the room for a moment, then looked curtly at Devereux. "Trouble may have followed us, or it may come on its own," she sniffed. "This house must be better secured."
"You're... hurt." Devereux said painfully, highly distressed. He began looking for anything to help, although medical care from Devereux would likely be more lethal than the injury itself.
Visibly, Lemercier subdued the flickering aura around him and bestowed one of his broad, beaming smiles on Devereux, though it was missing the rotund old man's usual joie de vivre. "I cannot argue with that, my good landlord, but I believe I am capable of managing it on my own," he said, waving off both Charles and Favonius, which had floated out of the kitchen and was trying to offer a damp cloth. "Very good of you, Favonius, but I have a more important task for you and your compatriots. Evoco prodigium." Lemercier snapped his fingers.
There was a deep rumbling from the foundation of the chateau, issuing forth from the elderly professor's room and moving under your feet, towards the door. Accompanying this was a rather loud sloshing from around the baths, as if all the water had run out into the floorboards and was now making its way through the basement. The twin trails of sound led their way over to the door and, after a worrying amount of noise, stopped.
"Now we are secure inside, and any assailants secured out. Favonius can remain outside as our doorman, to ensure our errant friends may enter our abode safely." Lemercier sighed, for a moment looking very tired and very old. "Now then, let us hope this wretched night has no more foul surprises for us. My illustrious Seiglinde, if I may propose a brief wash-up and change of clothing, as I do believe my shirt is ruined."
"It still serves its purpose," Petrik replied, pragmatically.
"So it does, but I believe both I and our new housemates would feel better if I were out of it," Lemercier said, with a tired smile.
Perception: DC 22