Chapter One - Missing

[tarlyn]

Tromo smiles mischievously and checks the coat.
If there's nothing in particular in the pockets or elsewhere, he'll make a present to the first beggar he'll see around and then follow inside.

A white haired man staggers along the street, obviously drunk. A straw hat adorns his head. He sports a torn and dirty tunic and unusually colored pantaloons.
He wears no footwear and he looks all around, eyes unfocused. Residents pass him by, some politely nod "Fred" and move. One or two drop some coins in a wooden cup
hanging from his neck on a hemp necklace. He spies you all before you enter the Inn and walks over to you. "Shayy.... 'ave you got some ale... BELCHHHH!!! I think I forgot
my pants..."

He reaches down and touches his leg.. "Oh, shorry... I gots them.. I'm I uh Im Fred. Yesh I'll order a drink now.." his eyes go crossed as he appears to be thinking before exhaling and grins really odd like. "Oh mother, Imma go home now." He walks on, eyes unfocused. His hand reaches to his hip and he takes a waterskin and he sips greedily
before continuing on.

[Lot]

Surprisingly, rather than giving Lot trouble, Nestor encourages his apprentice to go and meet with de Casteeles. Pleased by the sudden change in his fortune, Lot wastes no time. He packs a few things and rushes out the door of his mausoleum apartment, which sits in a private cemetery on land owned by Nestor's affluent relatives.

What little money Lot has, he gives to his valet and carriage driver with a wink and a smile.

Lot is a few minutes late coming down from his room at the inn, having spent a bit too long preening himself for his first social engagement in a very long time. Cleanly shaven and washed, his hairless head shines brightly. Lot has grown accustomed to living life without the luxuries that were his birthright. Far to the contrary, he has fared worse than most servants... Lot's newest patron kindly provided fancy clothes that were as flattering as they could be on the young man's flabby body. This outfit consists of a silk shirt with a frilly cravat, black trousers with suspenders, a slightly overlarge black frock coat, black deerskin gloves, and a top hat. Lot's favorite accessory is a cane topped by a silver griffon's head.

When Lot steps inside the foyer, he is smiling ear to ear...

[RobJN]

Melora soaks in the tub until the water grows cold, but not before she checks the security of the windows and doors, and tosses a coin into the bath, to be sure no weirds or elementals lurk in the steaming water.

She wouldn't fall for that one again.


The dress is a deep forest green, and could not have fit better if the seamstress was in right there in the room. The black lace about the bodice and cuffs of the sleeves seems a bit much. She hadn't worn lace since... She couldn't remember when.

Melora is somewhat surprised at the fall of the gown down her left leg -- it is slit quite high, yet the fabric is folded in such a way as to not call attention to that fact.

She foregoes one of the garters, cinching her long knife into place along her left thigh, and is again pleased to see that the dress hides the weapon yet barely impedes her access to it.

I must remember to get the name of this dress-maker, Melora thinks to herself, taking one last look in the tall dressing table mirror before she slips out of her room, and down the stairs to the inn's main floor....

[ail]

Lukasz looks at the other recent-arrivals, visibly as lost in this place as he is. He notices the young lad confirming that he is expected. He looks around, almost as if suspecting a trap, but then reasons that would be unlikely. He smells business, and nods to the man. "Yes, Balfour de Casteeles." He hesitates... "I'm not really sure how to address him, what is the proper title?" he asks in a stiff note, as if trying to be congenial with the man, and failing completely. "And where can I find him, please?"

[Yaztromo]

Tromo, smiling discreetly, looks for a way to the Dining Room.

[RobJN]

Melora stops at the base of the stairs, looking for Juergin, but also taking the measure of the others who might have also received an invitation. She will follow them to the dining room...

[tarlyn]

Jeurgin looks at all the newcomers, but says nothing. When he sees Melora he nods at her and walks over to her. "Ju look lovely, Frau Melora. Just like everyone else who haff been invited to dis meal. All dese people vere chosed by Herr de Casteeles for some purpose he hass not telled me yet." Though young, he is somewhat knowledgeable in the
customs of nobles and takes Melora's arm in his.


One door leads into the dining room. At first glance, it appears to seat a hundred or so. Chandeliers light the area and patrons are already seated at tables, sipping wine or enjoying polite conversation. At the left side of the room, a rotating door opens and closes as waiters and/or waitresses enter and exit with trays. A black haired woman roams the room, talking to each guest quietly. When you enter she turns around and walks over to you.

"Good evening," she says with a smile. "Welcome to the Lost Stag. I am Johanna Crag, proprietor of this establishment." Her smile is very alluring, almost hypnotic.
Spying Juergin, she nods. "You are Master de Casteeles guests, I presume? He has a private room at the back. Is everything to your liking? I do like hearing feedback
from my guests."

[ail]

Lukasz shrugs at the proprietor's comment.

"Very well, then perhaps when I've had anything I can comment on it. Until then, no." Then he goes silent as if he had already talked too much.

[RobJN]

"I have never been to a finer inn in Mordentshire," Melora says.

Granted, it was no Comeback Inn. But she did speak the truth.

[Death By Pumpkyn]

Approaching Johanna, Niyef greets the proprieter with a friendly smile. "I thank you for your hospitality." She begins cordially. "My name is Niyef El Hasheem of Hazlan." She says through her hazlani accent, her smokey slurring speech giving her home of origin away.
"I find mordent quite welcoming, and peaceful. Such a relaxing country. And your inn is really quite lovely. You have been most accommodating" Niyef smiles as she sidesteps the conversation. "Mistress Johanna, I believe I am not alone in having never before met our host. What can you tell us of Balfour De Casteeles?"