Scalebound

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As Alenas speaks, Payne's head turns slightly towards him, approaching again and fixing things once more. He doesn't speak, but instead moves towards the bed and adjusts the sheets again, flattening what few wrinkles covered the mattress. The muttering comes and goes, after listening for a little while as he's paced the room, you've started to notice it loops. Already it is starting to bother you a little -- being a musician you understand melodies, patterns in sounds, but while Payne's words are practically consistant on each loop, there's always at least one thing that is slightly off, but it's never the same wrong thing.

You're starting to understand why no one seemed willing to stay in the room with him.
 
Alenas sits down, and tries to concentrate on the rythm and flow of his words. After a few loops he starts playing his flute, soft and mellow, matching Paynes rythm and tone.

While doing this he watches the man closely, seeing if there is any reaction or anything that seems like an opportunity to make contact.
 
Trying to match Payne's words with the flute, there are a few times when there's a mismatch as either Payne's voice flickers out, or his inflection changes, a slight pause here or there, but eventually you learn to predict it, spending a few minutes attempting to copy.

Feeling like a student of music once more, you fall into the breathing pattern of the flute, your mind slowly zoning out from the mindlessness of the pattern -- until you realize both you and Payne have started speeding up. Payne still moves around the room, but there's hesitation as he rearranges things, eventually he walks towards one of the walls and leans against it -- head in his hands -- the both of you have reached the peak of your speed in this strange duet. From outside the room, the volume hasn't changed, but between Alenas and Payne it sounds like a roar of chaotic music and words ... until you both begin to slow, Alenas struggling even with his experience to hold the notes for so long.

Finally the noise has stopped and when Payne looks up once more, his eyes are focused, his arms wrapped around himself as he leans against the wall, an exhausted look on his face.

His voice is rough and tired, "I ... don't know what you did ... but truly, thank you." Payne brings a hand to his mouth, "I -- I can tell this is only a pause though -- in my mind, it's ... it never ends..."
 
«Do not worry, I am here trying to help you. What is it that never ends?»

Although Alenas might seem calm, he is roaring with feelings in his mind. Music moves him like nothing else, and even though he has both played and heard beautiful music many times before, not many experiences can match the intensity he just felt.

«Can you tell me anything at all about what happened?»
 
Payne brings a hand towards his forehead, "The words I've been muttering for the past few days, nonstop." He shudders, "I never want to see inks or paints or brushes or --" he cuts off, as if afraid the stream of words will start again.

Moving towards the bed, Payne sits near Alenas, voice still shaky and faded, "I ... I served Madame Brewe for many years, watched her become an idol of the artistic community, first here, then her renown spread further." He gives a weak smile, "She trusted me with buying her supplies -- always said I had a knack for knowing which colors she actually needed, not the ones merely on her list of materials ..."

Rubbing his eyes he stops speaking for a moment. "But ... she decided one day to buy the materials herself. Something about she ... wanted to try a new style, something darker."
 
«Do you know where or who she bought the paint from? And do you remember anything about what happened right before the incident?»
 
In mentioning the incident he starts muttering again, his eyes shut tight as he places a hand over his mouth, his breathing quickening. Eventually he removes his hand, "I -- I don't know where she bought it from. I wasn't allowed to follow, she gave me tasks to do in the manor ..."

Payne squeezes his eyes shut again before opening them, you almost think you saw a drop of ink in his eyes before he had shut them -- gone now. "It ... Madame Brewe was in her studio as usual, she liked to work late. She said the quiet of the night let her work best -- fewer people desiring her attention. Miss Eryet, my fellow servant, was in with her though, sometimes she was asked to pose for reference and such." He bites his lip slightly as he tries to think back, "I left to place an order for materials or something -- not even for a few minutes, but as I came back, the manor seemed covered in this ... strange substance."

Lifting his hands from his lap, the white gloves visible, he pulled one off and showed his hand to Alenas. "I tried to get back inside, but when I touched the door ... the substance started to move onto my skin -- cold and damp, I -- I panicked, I had no idea what was going on." Pulling the glove back on he continued, "I tried to force my way in, but then the ... what ever it was washed over me. When I woke again, the manor was gone, and I was stuck muttering the price of ink, of paints, of brushes, of ink, of paints --" he puts a hand across his mouth again, a pained expression on his face.
 
«This sounds awful, I won't lie to you. But this is very helpful indeed, and I hope we can help find out what happened, and maybe help you recover again.»

Alenas tries hard to remember all he has read and heard about magic and anything that light be related to this ooze, and if he has seen it before. He is deeply worried, for the man in front of him, and for the job they have been hired to solve.

«Is there anything else at all you might remember than can aid me and my companions further?»

Seeing that the man is about to slip away, he quickly asks: «Do you want me to return and play for you again?»
 
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With Alenas' offer, Payne gives an appreciative look, but shakes his head no. "I ... I think maybe when a mage gets a chance to come around, they can cure ... what ever this is." He sighs, "It's hard enough to even remember my name sometimes, the constant loop drowns everything out. I've tried to give everything I can think of -- I don't even know what has happened since that night, the guards have kept me in here."

Gesturing to the door, "The female guard they've assigned to me has been nice, but I know they probably think I've just gone insane... They try to feed me, take care of me, but," Payne puts his head in his hands as the muttering starts to return, "inks, and paint, I don't, and brushes, and inks, and paint -- I'm not even in control..."

Payne's eyes begin to glaze over once more as he stands stiffly, the muttering building again. He smooths out the bed, adjusts Alenas' clothing again, and returns to the path you saw when you originally entered.
 
«Thank you. I will see that you will be freed of this torment.»

Alenas gives a nod, even though he knows the man probably doesn’t notice it anymore. He walks out of the room, grabs and sheathes his rapiers from Montsombre as he gives a accurate rundown of the conversation with Payne. While doing this he begins to twirl and play absentmindedly with his dagger, a habilt when he is thoughtful or worried.

The conversation with the servant left him worried to his bone. What could this dark ooze be, and how does it connect to the vanishing of the house?

All his thoughts are given to the group except his own fears, and the impact the flute-playing had on him.

«... and I think that if we ever find out where she bought her inks that night, we might have a solid chance of solving this case. It has to be connected..» he finishes, looking at the group and the guard.
 
Thisk's tail lashes side to side absently as he listens to Alenas' report. After a moment his thoughts click into place, and he says, "Mages know. No mage is too busy to study unknown magic. They are not curious because they already know."
 
"I think you might very well be right about that Thisk. But first I think we should go and not see the manor. Maybe we can discover something there that others haven't."

Alenas turns to the female guard, keeping his voice gentle and with a reassuring smile.

"Thank you for your help, and please take good care of Payne. He is very much in there, and I will see that he is freed from this torment before we leave."

He nods to the guard, and leaves the building, heading to the manor.
 
Montsombre remained leaning against the doorway as Alenas was in with the servant. He took Alena’s weapons when he went in, and was looking at them. He never understood how anyone could use such a small blade, it was barely a toothpick. Plus it only hurt at the top, not even like a normal sword. No, he much preferred his flail, it hurt everywhere. He handed back Alenas’ weapons when he came back out, and listened attentively to the report. “I agree, we should swing by the manor first. But right after we should go see those mages; if they refuse to help with finding the manor, the least they could do would be to cure this poor man. Good work, Alenas.” He nodded to the Dragonborn bard. Then he looked around at the rest of the group, curious if they had any comments before they left for the manor.
 
“Kadaru agrees,” the cleric says as he stares at the door to Payne’s room. As if he meant to burn a hole through it with only his eyes, absently he continued “Curious what power can bring this... may be that soft ones are also soft of mind.” Kadaru shifts his vision to the guard as he says this, his tongue flickering out a bit. “Yes, to the place of power. Where home is no more.”
 
The guard woman nods as Alenas speaks, glancing back in towards the room as he mentions that Payne is still aware. "I ... I appreciate you even attempting to speak with him, and not just ignoring him. I hope you all," she glances over the party, "-- wait ... wasn't there one more of you?"

As the group looks amongst themselves, they note a missing member: Nassa, the Yuan-Ti appears to have disappeared during some point as the group was listening to Alenas' music through the door.

Peering around you all, the guard continues, "... hopefully nothing has happened." She nods as you all move back down the stairs -- a few other doors open as people peek out, interest piqued from the flute music earlier. The other guard by the entrance door gives a small wave as you all depart, looking as bored as one can manage.

Making your way across town, leaving the narrow alleys and squished housing, the layout slowly changes, the architecture more defined -- houses that stand on their own, fenced and elegant. A few servants, dressed similar to Payne, can be seen running their early errands, sweeping the steps of their respective master, a few keeping an eye on the party as they pass. Eventually something catches your collective eye -- or more accurately, a lack of something catches your attention: a gated plot of land with a large hole in the ground. A few guards stand nearby, attempting to keep people moving and not stare for too long.

 
Like the others, Ixen's eyes are immediately drawn to the crater that once held the manor. Even calling it a "crater" doesn't seem to do it justice; to Ixen, it's more like half an eggshell with the yolk scooped out. But something even more bizarre keeps tugging at her senses, nagging her. It isn't even a smell, but rather a suggestion of some kind of pigment or dye. Uneducated in magic, thinking harder on it only confuses her.

"...The servant is correct," she says eventually. "About the ink and paints. His madness holds meaning." There must be a better way of phrasing it, but finding the right words is a struggle.
 
As they approach the manor not there anymore, Alenas is gripped by a sense of dread. Whatever horrible and foul magic can do something like this? Consuming an entire building, making people mad at the touch. This is something he fears they haven't come close to facing before. Still, he has confidence in his companions, and steels himself as he looks over the crater.

"Your right Ixen. There is something very wrong with all of this, and finding out who sold the ink, and what was done to it has to be our main goal so far." Alenas looks around at the surrounding are while, looking for possible houses and witnesses they might want to talk to. "We need to talk to the mages, that much is clear. I do not know what more we can learn here."
 
Kadaru was loathe to admit that he enjoyed any part of this city, but this section was slightly more sufferable. The buildings did not feel as they would crush you at any moment. One could stretch their tail and breathe. There was also a sense of power here that called to him. Servants busying themselves with executing the bidding of their masters. In the lizardfolks' mind there was a comforting order to it. "Hmm?" An intense feeling overcame him as they approached where their destination...

~~~

"We have not yet walked the grounds, Dragonkind. Kadaru also knows that the soft one spoke true. Essyllis, of the watery death, has revealed it to his servant." the cleric says as he makes his way along the fence towards the guards. Finally standing before the guards, he stares at them expectantly for a moment before requesting bluntly, "Open the gate, soft one."
 
Montsombre stands outside of the gate, scanning over the grounds. Huh, seems like the manor was bigger than I'd expected. And that black goo that Alenas told us about seems to still be littering the grounds. We should collect some to bring it for identification. As Kadaru demands that the doors be opened, Montsombre rolls his yellow eyes and walks up next to Kadaru. "We were sent by Commander Monsab to investigate this disappearance. Would you mind opening the gate so we can take a look around? It will be quick, we have other leads to follow as well." He then gives Kadaru a disapproving look, trying to warn him to be nicer to our hosts. He was going to need to have a talk with him about his manners, but that was a conversation for another time.
 
A small crowd stands before the gate, peering around the guards and through the fence, trying to get a look at the latest thing to happen in town. Some of the stragglers look like they belong to the area, dressed more nicely than the ones wandering the plaza earlier, some dressed similarly to Payne, likely other servants.

As Kudaru approaches, demanding the gate be opened, one of the guards, a little taller than the rest so far, gives a heavy sigh as he turns towards the lizardfolk, ready to begin repeating his message once more: "I'm sorry sir, but this area is being blocked off --" he suddenly stops as he realizes what he's looking at. He leans back on his heel a little as an "Uuuuh...?" can be heard from under the helmet. He glances between the party until his eyes catch on Montesombre who steps forward and speaks.

The guard regains his composure, the rest of the crowd watching the exchange, a few muttering between themselves before splitting off, the other two guards keeping an eye on the party. "Oh ... oh! Right. He sent for people, I had heard you finally arrived." Reaching towards his waist the guard pulls out a small keyring, opening the gate. "Please don't take too long -- it's hard enough getting people to stop trying to climb the fence, we don't need them seeing ... others ... wandering around in here and thinking it's open season." He pushes the gate open, it barely makes a noise, silently swinging on its hinges. The plot of land is open to the party, the landscaping outlining where the building used to be, along with the hole in the ground, perfectly marking where the basement to the structure once was.

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Elsewhere:

The soft murmur of magic and research is a constant companion within The Mansion -- the building that housed all of the mages of Stogrove within one structure. To an outsider, it looked like a small shack squeezed between two buildings along the street leading to the local Lord's castle. However on the inside, it's a sprawling building, rooms upon rooms, open halls for ritual circles, libraries that continue past sight, closets stuffed with various spell components of all kinds, tables stacked with scrolls and alchemical setups.

A door slams and the building goes silent for a moment as various heads peek over their materials towards the offices of the upper level mages. Outside the door, adjusting his robe for a moment, a man glares out across the rooms as everyone quickly goes back to their work -- a few small puffs of smoke and sparks from reactions that were ignored for just too long. Shoes click on the tiled flooring as the man strides through the room, eventually approaching a desk where a figure sits keeping notes on a current experiment, hooded and masked, peering at a vial as the colors slowly change and shift.

The man brings his hand down on the desk, calling the figure's attention to him, on his face a frustrated frown as he speaks: "Gartener, I'm changing your current task." He glances at the vials as they bubble, "Put this away or hand it off to someone else -- I don't care. I need you to head to Brewe's mansion immediately."
 
Hmm, yes. A halves stopper of essence of nightshade... A pinch of mare's hair... and the final touch, titrated manticore venom... He smiles to himself, matching the grinning visage of the mask he wore briefly as his forked tongue danced across his lips. Carefully now, that's the trick... Suddenly, a loud thump behind him causes Sssalazar to jump, dropping the glass stopper to the ground and shattering it. He stared down at the sizzling puddle on the floor as it began to eat through the hardwood surface. That damned fool! Does he not know better than to sneak up on an artist at work? The mask covering the entirety of his face shifts so that Sssalazar's eyes meet those of the robed man. He spoke in a low, gravely voice. "That was titrated manticore venom. It took me seven weeks to receive, and another three to process into a workable solution." He pauses briefly, his cold green eyes meeting those of the man before him, sharply contrasting the ever-present grin of his mask, before finally speaking up again in a somewhat lighter tone. "But what is ten weeks of work compared to a lovely conversation with you, Magister Stomund! What is it you wish of me in the manor of the esteemed art-smith? Has she had trouble sleeping again? It would be but a simple matter for me to fix her up a minor sleeping catalyst." Sssalazar smiled slightly to himself. What a perfect time to slip in a bit of Psilocybin... A mad person is far easier to fool than a fully witted one.
 
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Magister Stomund deepens his frown at Gartener's tone, glancing over the edge of the desk watching the floor begin to dissolve until it repaired itself, the wooden floor slowly knotting itself back together.

"Think of it this way -- now you know what to do and what not to do. It should go even faster." The Magister stood straighter, his white hair framing his face as he dusted off his emerald robes once more. "With that time maybe you'd learn to pay more attention to things around you -- such as the fact that Brewe has been missing since her manor disappeared!" He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "The ... whatever they are that Monsab hired arrived yesterday. Apparently he has decided to ignore us and our expertise in favor of whatever vagabonds he has managed to gather."

Lifting a hand and pointing towards Sssalazar, "We must respond with our own hand, however! We do not respond out of concern of looking as if we have been guilted into helping. Remember this, Gartener." Magister Stomund adjusted his sleeves as he continued, "Aid ... whoever, whatever, but make sure any steps forward in solving this new mystery, any accolades, come back to us."

Tapping his foot slowly, surprisingly loud amongst all the noise, a few others glance over from their respective desks, watching the Magister as he stands waiting.
 
This damnable man... I have better uses for manticore venom than as a mere training tool... perhaps as a tea, or in your stew... Sssalazar glances back at his work to see what could potentially be salvaged, but the knowledge had already slipped from his mind in his anger. He turns back to the Magister, and speaks to him in an apologetic tone. “My apologies, sir, as you may recall my accident took its toll on more than just my handsome features. You have my eternal gratitude for agreeing to take on a man in my condition.” Even as he spoke, his slitted nostrils flared in anger behind the mask. These simple minded smooth-skins could not possibly comprehend the knowledge which I hold. A mere glimpse of it would tear their minds asunder. So what if I miss a detail or two every now and then? His mind wanders back to the conversation at hand. Is he still blathering on? “I shall move swift as the wind, sir. Fear not, for guilt and concern are not words that are within my vocabulary. I will be certain that all credit finds it’s place in the rightful hands.” My own, you white haired lout! I suppose I should thank you... This provides me with the perfect opportunity to make my move...
 
He claps a scaly hand on the guard shoulder as he walked in. “Thank you friend. We will be in and out quickly, and I’ll scare off anyone who tries to join us in here.” Monty smiles at the guard, ignoring the inevitable recoil from his touch, before heading onto the grounds itself. Montsombre was not the brightest candle, but he did have a way of reasoning that had not failed him yet. He figured if the house totally disappeared, there would be no trace of it leaving, but if it flew away or sank into the ground, there would be some kind of disturbance. He walked the border of the imprint of the manor, trying to find any discrepancy but finding none. It was as if the house did not exist here. Just as he turned to report to his comrades, he noticed some movement out of the corner of his eye. The black sludge, or the paint as Alenas has told him, was actually moving slowly towards his foot. Montsombre did not hesitate for even a second, he backed away towards the gate when he called out to his friends “Be careful! The black goo seems to still be active!”
 
The Mansion:

Idly waving a hand in the air, motioning for you to hurry, Magister Stomund replies, "Yes yes, I expect you to do well. Do well enough and perhaps you can move up to better things than playing with vials and potions." He snaps his finger as another lower mage approaches, head bowed. "Help Gartener put his things away," Stomund gives one last adjustment to his sleeves as he begins to move back towards the offices, "I expect good news soon!" His shoes click across the floor as he strides away, the acolyte watching him for a moment before turning to look at Gartener's mask and shrugging.

"Guess I'll be taking over your desk for the time being. Lucky you, getting field work, huh?" The acolyte has a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes as he starts looking over the desk, as if imagining his own tools and things placed there already.

Eventually between the two of you the materials are placed away, each in their respective vials and bottles, labled and stored. Stepping out of The Mansion, the cloudy day above you, a few passersby note the robes you wear -- not the decorated and stately outfit Magister Stomund wore, but still marks your membership to the mages of Stogrove. The streets are open to you, with Brewe's manor to the north, or the servant with the addled mind off to the northwest side of town.

 
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