There is alot of yelling in this log.

 

 

 

Lady Sandiel's Manor - Courtyard

 

    Stone and mortar walls, standing about two and a half feet tall, enclose the wide, desolate courtyard. Passing years have left the stones weathered, once sharp edges rounded by wind and rain, their craggy surfaces smoothed by the forces of nature. The mortar in between the stones crumbles away, every breeze taking a little more, until some of the stones seem to hold more by luck and habit than design.

 

    The flagstone pavement has seen better days. Dirt, ground into the pores of stone leaves a dingy wash, no matter the scrubbing, and cracks wind through the whole, sometimes crumbling away entire corners. The outer walls of the castle bear the same faint, dingy stain, giving the whole a marbled appearance. The courtyard is empty, but for a ragged circle of stone enclosing a small patch of withered grass. The tree within, though, shows surprising life against the faded exterior surrounding it. Thick and gnarled, its trunk easily tops the guard wall, reaching up higher than the door which leads within the castle, the tree itself easily ten feet in height. Twisted branches reach to the sky, the thick profusion of glossy leaves throwing a flickering shadow on the ground beneath it.

 

    The front of the manor faces the courtyard. Built of the same weathered stones as the low wall surrounding the courtyard, the manor rises two full stories, narrow turrets at each corner. Narrow slits in the wall allow those inside to look out, but are too shadowed, and too high to allow any to look inside. A wide door, looking sturdier than any other part of the edifice, allows entrance to the manor. Built of thick, wooden planks stained dark brown and banded in blackened steel, it seems somewhat newer than the rest of building. 

 

Contents:

 

Sandy

 

Serene

 

Obvious exits:

 

Manor <M>  Out <O>

 

It's Korday, Hattanani 21 01:58:52 1006. The full moon isn't up. The tide is high and ebbing.

 

The world is dark and foggy. Everything is half-hidden, nothing clearly seen. It almost feels as if you walk through some otherworld. It's cool and the air feels damp and still.

 

HATE. The world of the manor is full of it as the old, decrepit structure rests there under the dark and foggy sky. The moon lies half-hidden, obscuring shadows and creating ghosts, and the faintest drizzle of rain has just stopped. It pit-pat-pitter-patters on the still-warm ground, or had, to the tune of the VERY LOUD POUNDING on the door. "SANDY!" roars the sith'makar, then, turning to Serene, "One apologizes for mrm, Srassha eating the key. ...SANDY!" *poundpoundpound*

 

Serene shakes her head slowly. "It would not matter had I not forgot my own key, Ser Darshan. Even so... I suggest you keep a close eye on Srassha when the time comes. You would not want that key falling into the wrong hands." She doesn't elaborate on what 'time' she is referring to. "Though I am surprised she has yet to respond to the racket you are making. "

 

"What," says Sandy from inside, calling down from a window. She's annoyed. They dared to talk to her. NOW of all times. This does not make her happy. Then again, very little does.

 

"She knows--" and the sith shuts his trap, and peers up through the darkness, the rain. "Good evening, m'lady!" he calls up, "I'm afraid..." a giant lizard ate a key and hasn't pooped it out, yet. He pauses. Perhaps imagines M'lady Mandara's frowning, stern features. He tries again, and cups the sides of his muzzle with his hands, "the mrm, key has been misplaced, and it has been a long day." Get off your ass and let us in!

 

"No," says Sandy, "Who the fuck gave you a key, anyways?" she asks, glaring down at them. "Oh, wait. Is that Serene with you?" The door is then opened. Because of Serene. She was more than content to let Darshan rot.

 

Perhaps the wind catches the door. That's surely it. The door SHOVES into the elf with a faint howl as the outside elements pick up, and once Serene heads through, Darshan shoulders in, though he doesn't...grumble. He's turned and scowling at the elf there near the door, the one that the...wind...had rushed into. Totally by accident. "...good evening," he says, like it's choking him. "Mrm...one fears we bring grave news, also. The priests have reported a...lingering...taint from when the house was purchased," and he looks at her. See?!? SEE??!?? TAINT!

 

Sandy just looks at them. 

 

Just *looks* at them. Glares. Hands on her hips. This is not a merry elf.

 

Serene nods slowly.. adding her words to Darshan's, perhaps to lend weight to the matter. "There was a... impression... not truly a vision, but something of a warning, that came to one of the priestesses at the temple, Sandy. Something about future evil spawning forth from the manor. We believe that there is something of the vampire still present. Somewhere. A search must be made."

 

And he scowls right back. The tail flickers, yanking this way and that. "A taint," he repeats, firmly. A glance towards Serene, and the sith'makar pauses, lowers his tone, "I'm afraid we will need to conduct a search, m'lady." A pause, then. "Ganesa packed...cookies." And after another pause, he produces a small tin box, which he hands over.

 

"You're both just conspiring to annoy the fuck out of me," says Sandy, dourly, "and it's bloody working. Do whatever it is you're going to do and then leave me alone." She snorts, tyrns around and marches back towards her workshop!

 

Serene clears her throat. "We will have to search your workshop as well, Sandy.'

 

Darshan returns the tin to his--a compartment opens in the armor at the leg, and two panels swing out, then reclose over it. Whirrr. "Ganesa will be disappointed," he says, with a trace of humor. "And if one may, that is in no way the case. One views your...health...as greatly important and beneficial. Ganesa would be quite saddened were anything to happen to you--she insisted we come out here at once."

 

Chinook has arrived.

 

"...for fucks sake, there is nothing wrong with my fucking workshop," says Sandy, giving them both a flat look. "Put the cookies in the kitchen along with the pile of 'breakfast cookies' that Carmina sent over." A scowl is directed at the pair of them. Both.

 

Serene shakes her head. Not forcefully, but certainly resolute. "I apologize, Sandy. But no stone can be left unturned. It would be best that this is dealt with before it becomes a problem."

 

"One was to see them delivered," now he's being stubborn. Darshan's face takes on that stubborn, polite quality, a polite mask of, 'the small child told me so.' "And mrm, to see you viciously bite the head off of one. She spent some time making them, and one would regret to..." a pause, then, "She would be very upset if you didn't like them," and that...comes with a grimace. He falls silent at Serene's statement, too, but it's clear he supports it. The stubborn quality becomes at that, yet more determined. Firm. He stands near Serene, the two of them near Sandy just inside the door to her manor, and supposedly, heading towards the workshop to inspect it for a lingering taint of some kind.

 

Funny they're talking about the workshop. There's a kind of heavy shuffling noise upstairs, from exactly there. Taint, indeed.

 

An ear twitches from the elf. She pauses. She turns towards her workshop. "...gotta be kidding me," she mutters.

 

Serene looks up towards the workshop as well. A second passes, and then she's loosening her weapons at her belt and back. It could be nothing! But considering the topic of conversation... well, it would be safe to say that Serene, at least, is jumpy. Or her version of it anyways.

 

"One assures you," the sith'makar says, with a quick glance towards Serene. "We received the report just hours ago. We came here as quickly as...Silver and Srassha could get us here." A longer pause. "Perhaps we should inspect that." And flick-flick goes the tail, and...after a few moments, well, he'll step ahead of Sandy. Ladies need protected. Even if they'll punch him for it.

 

The shuffling noises continue. It seems as if something heavy is moving around in the workshop, only it doesn't seem to be moving around *too* much.

 

"Oh for fucks sake," says Sandy. She promptly marches to her door and goes to open it. Because, well, its' rpobably just one of the refugee kids that hang around her place getting into her things. Maybe it is even Ganesa!

 

Darshan follows behind, his brow furrowed--which reminds him. He slams down the visor, more a slam from the rush, and follows close behind, clanking all the way. Up the stairs, around the bend...!!!

 

It is not Ganesa, unless Ganesa has turned into a giant insect. A giant, reddish-colored insect with waggling antennae which Darshan is already horribly familiar with. Oh yes. It's another rust monster. IN SANDY'S WORKSHOP. It's got a note tied around its neck. And it's in the process of devouring something...well, important. Thankfully, the *most* important things were up on shelves and things where it couldn't reach, but...still. 

Oh. And it's looking up and eyeing Darshan.

 

Serene almost misses a step.. anyone who relies on metal for their profession would be stupid not to fear such a creature. At least it isn't the evil they were worried about. "Well. I would have to say it is not quite what I was expecting," she says finally, from behind the group

 

Darshan...stops. He halts. And that forward clanking motion becomes the beep of a semi backing up, because...that is. Exactly. What he does. He takes a step backwards, and two, and this time...it is behind the elf. "Perhaps..." he says, and does not...exactly...finish the sentence. He's eyeing the rust monster.

A creature from the hells. "...the priests were right." And the 'hells' are Sandy's workshop itself.

 

Say what? Sandy's eyes go wide. 

 

So very wide. 

 

Wide with horror. With shock. With rage. "Who... who..." 

 

She's sputtering. Beside herself. Pure. Rage.

 

Waggle, waggle. The creature seems surprised. And then pleased! It found breakfast, lunch, and dinner, all rolled into one! Waggling its butt like a dog for a moment, it bounds towards the adventurers--and, yes, specifically toward Darshan the Metal Lizard, even if it has to bowl the elf over to do so. "Eeeee! Eeeee!" it says joyfully.

 

Finally, words escape Sandy: "...noooooooooo!" 

 

Bowled over: "...ooooooo!"

 

A long, longer pause. Darshan nudges the poor elf, "That mrm...freezing trick. If you have it, please use iiii--OHMIGOD." And he...starts BACKING THE HELL UP.

 

The priests were right.

 

They were so right.

 

DEMON! MAUGRIM INCARNATE!

 

"Give it room.. lock it back in here." Serene is backing away, picking up the pace when she sees the creature charge. "SAndy! Do you have nets, or rope?"

The creature chases after Darshan, squealing happily. It will chase him through the house. It will chase him through the streets, if it has to. His armor is crunchy and good with ketchup!

 

"Ahhh!" Sandy's too panic stricken to actually be able to be of any use to anyone. The note hasn't even been ntoiced yet. She's too fixated on BIG ORANGE MONSTER OF PAIN EATING HER THINGS! And then it is chasing Darshan! She rushes into her workshop to preserve any number of valuable things that are already half destroyed. 

 

"...NOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

Oh, gods. His--his armor. His beloved, wonderful...Darshan RUNS as no sith'makar has run before, barreling down the staircase and down the stairs--the otherwise slippered feet of her servants this is not--it's instead the CRUNCH! of armored boots, the slam of metal against wood--and perhaps a few of the stairs crack. Perhaps--he throws things at it as he goes. A chair, a--oh gods. HE DOESN'T CARE!

 

And the chair crashes wildly against the wall, going everywhere but its intended target. It splinters at the edge, its foot bending and twisting sideways, almost breaking...

 

The workshop is a mess. Tools have been eaten. Other items have been rusted but not yet eaten. Still others have been knocked over, or pawed through, or... The only consolation is that it appears that the creature was not in the workshop very long. Still, it was long *enough*. 

 

Downstairs, the creature is not at all affected by the flinging chair and is thus able to catch the lizard up. "Eeee! Eeee!" It leaps. Leaps up on his booties. His pretty, pretty booties.

 

Sandy, with a look of horror, immediately resolves to deal with this creature while it EATS DARSHAN'S BOOTS. She... strips. 

 

Everything she's got that's metal is gone and being tossed aside. Even her boots. Once she's stripped of all of that and her armor, she bounds in the direction of the heart-rending cries that are no doubt coming from Darshan.

 

Serene, having sidestepped to get out of the way of both fleeing lizard and pursuing monster, sets about to follow. "Your bow, Sandy." She doesn't stop to strip, but does start quickly cutting straps to her armour as she moves.

 

Oh god. Ohgodohgodohgod. Darshan...the poor, heart-wrenching screams. The poor--

 

It's eating him alive.

 

It's eating his BOOTIES.

 

Choking, he stabs wildly at the monster, claws, teeth, fangs--and the claws hit. The claws, in his panic'd state, somehow connect, somehow collide either side of the beast's head while he looks into its eyes with sudden, terrible horror.

 

"Let me show you a trick I once learned from a dwarf with an iron tent!" Sandy yells, leaping into the fray. She leaps onto it! Really. She just LEAPS on it. GRabs hold. And proceeds to attempt to put it in a headlock. Yes, that's right. She's wrestling a giant, orange rust monster.

 

"Eeeee! Eeeee!" The squeals of pleasure have turned into squeals of pain! It's being hurt! The mean people are trying to hurt it! It wriggles in Sandy's grip for a bit, and then goes still and brushes her face with its antennae to see if she's tasty.

 

Sandy keeps her grip on it. She's totally getting antennae in the face. That's okay, though. It's better than having to listen to a crying Sith-Makar. She's trying to get control of the beast, grabbing it by the back of the neck. "Get me something I can use as a fucking lure, dammit!"

 

GETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOFF!!! Darshan scrambles up--or, scrambles back, a single, scaley lizardtoe poking out of his BELOVED BOOTIES, and the metal scraping furrows on the floor of Sandy's mansion. "Eeeeh-heee...eeee-heee..."

 

Serene hesitates long enough to look around and find something... there. THe chair. She steps over to it as she shrugs out of the last of her armour then grabs it. Then she turns about, finds the scuffle, and hurries towards it, getting ready to strike.

 

The rust monster wriggles. Wriggles! But it cannot get away from the elf. It seems to like her--she probably smells of metal. Still, Darshan is quite the effective lure. "Eeee?" Snuffle snuffle snuffle. There *was* metal here...

 

There is. Sandy looks at the Rust Monster. Then Darshan. Then the rust monster. She reaches out and with uncanny elven grace, steals the remains of the boot! She waves it in front of the creature's face, slowly easing up on it as she uses the boot as a lure. Then begins to coax it to follow her like its an overgrown dog. One of the spare rooms will do nicely.

 

"...SANDY!" the sith'makar roars, staggering to his feet, now. And now, the hands burn, the armor burns--a delicious, light-color of pretty Daeus appetizer-sparkles, just like a delicious-looking cupcake...a delicious cupcake filled with rage. Enough that he nearly misses the creature. The claws swipe downward, sinking into carapace--and the light flickers, goes out abruptly as it touches skin. Slices into it, with an unfortunate spray of rust-guys over the elf's pristine haircut.

 

"Stop it, Darshan. I've got it under control!" Sandy puts herself, quite deliberately, between the poor, sad little rust monster and Darshan as she tries to lure it away. Also, she's going to take the note about this time off of it. It's probably contact poison.

 

"Eeeee!" The rust monster doesn't want to be hurt! It likes being hugged. Sandy hugged it! It goes bounding after her and the bootie. Only problem is...it comes *fast*. Sandy's going to have to run to that spare room if she wants to keep ahead of it. The note is easily takable and doesn't appear to be smothered in contact poison. Everyone knows that Sandy wears gloves!

 

It might, however, contain a needle-trap that punctures the elf's gloves. Which hurts!

 

"You used MY--" oh, forget it. The sith is all but shaking, all but--he bellows, roaring, a thing right out of the jungle. A primal challenge that he--part of him knows better.

 

The other part's just really, really pissed at the rustie.

 

DIE, rustie, DIE spawn of Maugrim!

 

Serene slowly lowers the chair, now, a bit more concerned about Darshan than the beasty now that Sandy has it. And, well, if she can't control it... well she chose this path. "Calm yourself, Ser Darshan."

 

"OW! Fuck! Fucking TRAPPED," snaps Sandy as she grabs the note, hissing with pain as the needle hits her. "Oh, fuck," she mutters, annoyed, as she feels her veins *burn*. Even if you resist poison? It still doesn't feel very good. Her eyes water and she fights back a wave of nausea. She stumbles back a step, opens a door, lets the rust monster in, and then SHUTS the door, tossing the boot in real quick for it to munch on.

 

"It-it--my--" he sputters, jabbing an accusing claw at the terrible beast, this beast from the hells, and the sputtering ends in another roar, a terrible roar towards the thing, primal and angry and...

 

His poor armor. His poor armor that he'd spent so much time on. Developed. Loved. Cared for.

 

The foot of it lies in tatters again.

 

And when the door clicks in place, he's left there, mouth half-open, teeth unfortunately showing, and breathing. In, out, in, out...he'll register the rest in a moment. Just a moment.

 

"EEEEEEEEEE-eeeeeeeee," The monster's squeals are somewhat muffled as the door is shut behind it. It will happily devour the remnants of Darshan's boot. Nom, nom, nom. Then it will probably take a nap. 

 

The note? Says, "Hope you enjoy the gift! Love, Whitebone."

 

Immediately thereafter, "FUCKING WHITEBONE!"

 

"Who is Whitebone?" Serene has to ask. She sets the chair down... though it's stability is somewhat dubious, what with haveing been used as a projectile. "And why would he be dumping one of those creatures in your workshop?"

 

"One of Kinnevack's lieutenants," says Sandy to Serene, "Remember? Big nasty bone naga? Killed me a while back?" She scowls, darkly, "Mr. Squiggles probably has a bome inside his belly or something. I am going to teleport to her. Now. And kill her." Somebody ought to stop her.

 

He straightens, Darshan does. Straightens, and trudges over that way. He looks at the elf, her hand, and... Just drops it. He might've started to say something, but he stops. It strangles off, chokes off...and he walks past her then to look towards the door. 

 

...and leans his head against the wall, hard, with a...thunk. It isn't even the rustmonster, or Whitebone, or Sandy. It's more a...combination. Of... "An absolute bitch," he says, eventually. "And yes. In the middle of the night. IN YOUR UNDERWEAR!!" he all but roars. Or he does. He's angry. And Sandy doesn't listen to him anyway. And she just dismantled his...

 

Poor armor. Poor, poor armor.

 

Serene's expression turns dark. "Ser Darshan is correct. For all you know that is this Whitebone's plan. To provoke you into some kind of ambush. Deal with your new pet first."

 

"I WANT HER HEAD!" Sandy fumes. And it wasan't even her booty.

 

Serene has disconnected.

 

Well. 

 

Everything is going fine, at first. 

 

"I'm going to kill her! Dead! I'll have her fucking head and then she'll fucking die all over again!" She snarls. Then she suddenly begins to look a little queasy. A tendril of greenishly tinted salive runs down the corner of her mouth. Then? She gives Darshan a funky look. ANd vomits directly onto his breastplate. She starts to say something again, then turns towards Serene and does exactly the same thign to her. BLAAARGH!'

 

"Oh god, fucking poi-GHOOOAAHGH!" Right in Serene's hair.

 

Pet. The word hits him like a stone to the gut. And that--"FINE!" roared back. The sith'makar turns and--breath. Breathing. Ten...nine--and the temper abruptly dies when there's vomit on his armor. Rather, it grows, but--his hands come up, and kind of...they...twitch. Twitch. "One will draw the bath," snarled. Serene can paladin-handle the elf to the baths. He'll just make sure there's an available...vat...to drop her in.

 

With soap.

 

Though, would that make her dissolve?

 

Sandy is so sick. She is so sick that she barely knows where she is. She keeps babbling about 'swords' and 'stupid lizards' and 'dead nagas'.

 

Darshan...well, he does exactly as he said he would. For the moment, he even leaves the puke on the armor--the puke starts to dry, to crust, and it crackles as he and Serene carry her towards the bath. Which--

 

Well, it's a bath.

 

She's deposited in there, just like that. And likely, a priest fetched.

 

Some older lady, perhaps. An old, kind lady who doesn't put up with swearing, and who goes, 'tut tut!' whenever Sandy makes a protest. Yes. Exactly that kind of old lady. He'll fetch her, himself.

 

Indeed! "Now, dearie, where did you say the patient was?" The little old lady is hobbling on a cane. Hobbling! She pats Darshan's arm absently.

 

"This way, Mother," he says, and Darshan's entire form is...respectful, quiet. Quiet, like one before a snake that might strike. He escorts her towards the room that Serene doubtless oversees. "Mrm...one will fetch your things. I'm sure there's room. Is there anything else you'll need?" He's moving her into Sandy's house.

 

From Sandy: "HEEEARRGH!"

 

"No, thank you, dearie, I have everything I need in my bag." The Althean hobbles up the steps and into the bath.

 

Well. That's...that? One can hope. A breath, three later he jogs off, and with no one to look...who'll notice if he spends the next several...hours...doting over his armor, and refixing it. Just so? Working armor is very good for sith'makarian tempers. And his is very shiny. *sparkle*

 

"Hello there, dearie!" the Althean says upon seeing Sandy. "And how are you doing? I heard you weren't feeling very well." Poor, poor elf.

 

"nnggngh," goes the elf. That's her intelligent response. She's clearly very sick.

 

"Tut, tut, tut. Let's see, now, dearie." The Althean slowly manages to go to her knees beside the bath and begins examining the elf. And the elf's vomit, but the *Althean* is, by this time in her life, a pro at avoiding projectile vomit so she doesn't get *uncomfortably* close to it.

 

"Gngngh!" goes Sandy. She hates the Althean right now, but she's really deathly ill. She's quite pale and her eyes are just wide on her. "Poison," she manages to tell her, finally.

 

"Yes, dearie, I see that. Wyvern poison, I believe." More tutting noises. "Well, there's nothing more to be done right now, not now that you've survived this long. Tomorrow I will prepare a spell and it will heal you right up. For *now*, you need to get out of this bath and into bed. With some nice heated rocks or something, preferably. And perhaps a sip or two of chamomile tea."

 

You leave the courtyard, stepping onto Vardeth Way.