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Arianwen: *blinks in confusion* “What?”
Rameaux: “It is from my own country, or one near it. That is the house of an a – a lord as you might call it, though you seem to call us all lords so perhaps I have muddled the terminology somewhat. Suffice it to say that that is the house of a man of power.”
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Arianwen: *sets mouth grimly* “A sorcerer? I have heard of these men of power. They are wholly and utterly evil. I have no strength against them— they have long disappeared out of my land, and are now only an evil rumor of memory. Have we stepped into the past?”
Rameaux: “No Madame, I am afraid it is you who have stepped into the past, or have you come into the future? These men are no sorcerers, but men of great status who by wealth and wit and even occasionally wisdom maintain great authority in the affairs of what goes around them.” I should say the man who reigns at that house boasts some thirty to forty servants and a great many additional subservience whom he can call upon when he is in great need. He may be a friend though I have come to doubt that such a thing exists in this place, except among ourselves. He may rouse the village against us if he dislikes our looks so we had better be wary.
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Quinn: I say we approach him. We could use someone who actually knows this area.
Arianwen: *furrows brow in troubled frown* “And risk his wrath?” *glances at Quinn uncertainly* “If such is your wish, my lord. But I have only my knife remaining to me— how if he should attack us? And what of the legions of thralls my Lord Rameaux suspects him to command? If he is an enemy, we might as well walk into a wolf-lair armed only with a cheese knife.”
Rameaux: “Well, one does prefer the thought of at least dying at the hands of something human. There is also the chance he may be friendly, so we may as well try it.”
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Anna: “I don’t prefer any thought of dying, but we don’t actually know if anyone is in the house. If someone is, it’s as likely to be a monster as a person in this place, but if we’re going to look, let’s get it over with. And please keep your weapons ready.” *looks over shoulder as she starts for house* “I just have a dagger.”
INTJ - Inhumane. No-feelings. Terrible. Judgment and doom on everyone.
Quinn: We’re all in about the same place, Lady Anna. Thankfully, it seems we’re all fairly proficient with them.
*nods* Right, we stick close together and try to make as ambiguous conversation as we can until we find out what sort of man he is.Arianwen: *follows with hand on hilt of hidden knife*
A Servant comes out of the house and notices us.
Quinn: Greetings, sir. May you tell us whose house this is?Servant: *looking at a few of the characters very awkwardly* “This is the house of the Count of Monte Cristo”
(Because why not?)
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(B-b-but-but-but I didn’t bring any poison!)
Arianwen: *sweeps suddenly past other characters and faces servant coolly* “Tell your master, whatever his name may be, that we desire speech with him.”
*servant bows* “But mademoiselle, the Count is not expecting anyone until ten o’ clock, when he dines with Monsieur Albert de Morcerf and Franz d’Epinay. If you have a card—”
Arianwen: *coldly* “Tell your master we are unexpected guests, sir. If this is his island, he might at least make an effort to encourage…” *pauses, gestures vaguely* “…immigration.”
Servant: *eyes her strangely* “Yes, mademoiselle. I shall tell him.” *backs away and hurries into house.*From mansion: Out walks a grave, pale, immaculate, stunning stunning gentleman, with a countenance which cannot easily be read but makes one’s heart race in an indescribable manner. He and servant talk for a few moments and then he comes over to characters and addresses them.
Count: “Good morning travelers, I have been expecting you.”
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