Johnny chuckled softly as he turned towards the sophisticated savage. "But Mr. Swift...have you remembered to calculate the slight offset between the geographical northpole and the one which your compass indicicates? If you follow magnetism blindly, you will find your pole-expedition to be sharing tents with Inuits on the Canadian tundra... Taken into consideration the fact that you are not planning a pole-expedition after all, I am starting to feel yet more uneasy around those butterknives of yours."
   Johnny paused momentarily, catching his breath both mentally and physically while sizing up the house, in particular noticing the Gargoyles on top of the entrance walls. "However, interesting as that analogy might have been, I am more keen to hear if you even know why you kill."

   "I bet those Gargoyles are going to soar from their pedestals and eat our brains out by the end of the day," Johnny B. commented, starting to move towards the entrancedoors. He stopped momentarily beside Pieran to say "Your sense of humour - and lack thereof - never ceases to amaze me, Mr. Swift...even your name..." Johnny left the statement in the air and moved to take hold of one of the knockers. "Somebody keep an eye on those Gargoyles," he commented, his voice slightly sardonical.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:33, Sat 24 July 2004.

“Looks like somebody left the light on for us, just like a Gothic Motel 6.”

Raven was surprised to see any sign of life in the mansion since everything else in this area seemed to have either died out or left long ago.



“Not a problem,” Raven said. She had already begun to study the carved figure and was wishing she could get a closer look at it. “Technically, it’s called a grotesque,” she said. “Gargoyles are designed to direct water away from the corners of buildings. Stone carvings that have the face of a creature but do not carry water are called a grotesque. This one is clearly decorative because of its positioning centered over the door.”

It is quite obvious to any onlooker that the conversation between Johnny and Iona has Alex bored to tears.

Quite the pair of bods.

A faint smile jumped to her lips at her use of one of Peter’s favourite expressions.  The man’s speech had been littered with slang, and quite indecipherable to anyone not up to date with the current phrases in use.  An expansive vocabulary of youth argot wouldn’t have been her choice of things to remember him by, but since it was all she had, it would make do.

She was startled out of her reverie by Pieran’s rather loud exclamation regarding the large doorknockers, and she suppressed a snort of laughter at his obvious embarrassment.  Her amusement is short-lived, and as Alex looked up at the house, she could feel the hairs on the back of her neck rising.  Unconsciously, her hand drifted towards the hilt of the long sword, and she could feel her body tensing in anticipation.



“Attractive fellow, don’t you think?” She remarked dryly, looking up at the grotesque.  “Quite the ladykiller, I'm sure.”

   "A what?" Johnny exclaimed. "Grotesque? Much can be said about me - attractive, cheerful, humourous, among other things - but I know my Gargoyles when I see them, and I'm talking about the mythological beast, not the bloody garden gnome!"



   Johnny curiously examined the Gargoyle this time, while still holding the knocker. "A ladykiller, yes, I can assure you - in the most literal sense. Kills more or less anything with a discernable head, though. Angelo di pietra in Italian - quite poetic, for a monster of it's qualities - translates Angels of Stone."

   Johnny's lips twisted in a crooked smile. "A ladykiller, yes, in the most literal sense - unlike me," he thought by himself.

Wide-eyed and silent, Iona trailed after the others as they (more or less) cautiously stepped through the gates. She cast a curious glance at the stone thingies, but was more interested in the actual manor. And if there was any food to be had there. And if there was a way to get home from there...

Even though it is quite high on the wall, the Gargoyle is large. It looks like a stone sculpture, carved from a single boulder. The long, sharp bird-like head glared down at the group as they approached. With a roughly humanoid body, it sits on its hunches leaning over the edge as if ready to leap off the roof. The chest is heavily muscled as are the forearms leading to the fingers that end in talons. The great hawk wings are high in its back, partly spread, poised for a swift and sudden dive. A bright flash of lightning casts eerie shadows onto the path before you.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:02, Sun 25 July 2004.

“Grotesque, Mr. Hope,” Pieran says, his voice soft and even. His eyes rove the walls, windows and turrets of the mansion. “Gargoyle: from the Latin gargarizare –to gargle, and from Old French gargouille –throat. Hence gargoyle, an objet d’art, spouting or ‘gargling’ water, wine, or blood. Crafted not thus, grotesque.”

Pieran knocks an arrow to his bowstring and offers Raven an obeisant salaam.

Noting Alexis’ voice and the grip upon her sword, he sidles near her and whispers a prayer, “Angels fly your stroke unerring. Chicaneries and malice, wait. En garde.”

He flinches back at the sudden burst of lightning. “Curse thee, I say,” he shouts to the sky. “We are here! Open then up the gates. Your keys of ancient days are gone to rust and I will play your games of old no more.”
This message was last edited by the player at 21:35, Sun 25 July 2004.

   Johnny B. stepped up beside Pieran, fists pointed to the sky. "To strong man; listen! Like Yoda, he speakest." he burst out just as loudly, with a flare of dramatics derived from the lightning.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:50, Sun 25 July 2004.

Dren, unable to hold back his own commentary, smiled adding "Darmok and Jelad at Tenagra!"
This message was last edited by the player at 04:34, Sun 25 July 2004.

   "Did I miss something pop-cultural!?" Johnny said, turning to Dren with a surprised look on his face.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 04:46, Sun 25 July 2004.

Iain chuckled at Dren's comment: "So you cast us all as Darmok and Jalad and our demon-looking friend up there in the role of the beast? Too bad I didn't bring my phaser..."

Then he turned to Johnny: "It's a Star Trek thing, Mr. Bee... While I haven't seen many episodes of that particular series, I had the venture..." He stopped, wondering if Pieran was contagious in some way... "I happened to catch that one on TV: it is said to be among the best ones in the series. Darmok and Jalad were two strangers - or possibly two enemies - who joined together to fight a common peril. That event became part of the language of a people whose only way to communicate was through references to their own folklore - pretty hard for outsiders to understand... For instance, they wouldn't say 'we come in peace', or 'let's be friends', they'd say 'Darmok and Jalad at Tenagra'."
This message was last edited by the player at 06:17, Sun 25 July 2004.

   "Oh, I see. They were aliens - on Star-Trek. But how do you excuse speaking gibberish?" Johnny snorted, speaking to nobody in particular: "Pop-cultural, yes. When did Star-Trek become pop-culture? Well, these days metal is mainstream, Gargoyles are called Grotesques and I suddenly find myself in a Hellish dimension. Next thing, the US are going to get a black president - and the Devil help me, she might be female as well. Days of doom are upon us, I say, and melodramatics is my expertise."

Raven winced at the comparison of such a classic piece of sculpture to a cheap lawn ornament. “Played a little too much Dungeon and Dragons in your youth, didn’t you, Mr. Hope?”



Raven smiled at Pieran, pleased that someone knew what she was talking about. “It’s nice to know I’m not the only one with an appreciation for historic architecture.”

Raven only half-listened as Johnny, Dren and Iain played conversational ping-pong. “Are we going to continue to stand around while Mr. Hope fondles the door knockers? If none of you heavily armed souls are brave enough to rap on the door, I’ll do it.” Raven started walking towards the door.

"Oh, fer the love of..."

Dren skipped over all the steps and was at the door, next to Johnny, in one motion. His left hand still near the gun in his belt he reached up to the alternate knocker with his right and knocked three times as loudly as he could before stepping back with his left leg should the need for a quick cross draw arise.

Raising the knocker and letting it drop three times resulted in loud, hollow booming that seemed to echo within. As the echo fades, the door that was knocked on slowly and quietly swung open, allowing all to enter. Light spilled onto the group, somewhat bright after the walk in the semidarkness of the overcast sky.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:04, Sun 25 July 2004.

"How nice: a hell mansion with automatic door openers. Well, I'll assume that this means we are welcome..."

He walked to the door, peeking inside, and turned to face the others: "I'm going inside: if I'm struck dead by a lightning bolt right after I walk through the door, it will probably mean I'm wrong and we are not that welcome after all. Cross your fingers for me, will you?"

And, with that, Iain walked through the door, not worrying too much about what could be waiting inside.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:52, Sun 25 July 2004.

Pieran swallows hard, as if choking down a bitter pill. "Damn you, i wish you hadn't said that."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:37, Sun 25 July 2004.

Iona turned back towards the grotesque once more, wondering what all the etymological fuss was all about. Then the sudden burst of lightning sent her anxiety levels way up once more. And Pieran's odd behavior didn't help one bit:







She flinched. It was hard to know which one was the most annoying: the drama queen or the mocking bird. But Dren's comment almost brought a smile back to Iona's face. Almost, but not quite.

And then, before she knew it, the door was swinging open and Iain strolled inside. Adrenaline started to pump in her veins, as the momentary feeling of safeness in the known factor - the banter and bickering of the people around her - disappeared like one of those flashes in the sky. On a reflex, her hand dove into her ample purse once more, this time grabbing the can of pepperspray lying in the side pocket she'd sewn into the handbag for easy access. She wasn't actually scared, yet. But this time, Iona wasn't going to get caught off guard.

The Entryway is clean and neatly furnished. A couple of mirrors with ornate wood frames are mounted near the entrance, one on each side of the hall. The floor appears to be white marble and there are six other doorways, three on each side of the hall, all with closed doors. Spaced neatly between the other doorframes are pairs of small benches, two of light colored carved wooden frames, two of dark mahogany with ornate carvings, two of dark red granite, all are upholstered with fine linen and intricate patterns. They seem to be museum pieces, but not frail with age. A basketball-sized crystal gives off the glow that illuminates the room. It appears suspended in midair, too high to reach. In the center of the hall a large staircase, easily 4 persons wide, rises up to the floor above.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:38, Mon 26 July 2004.

   "Truth to tell, Miss...some-or-other-thing...I did a little to much of everything in my youth. However, my knowledge of the Gargoyles is actually derived from poetry and mythology, in which winged monsters of stone which turn animate are referred to as Gargoyles, regardless of whether they fancy sprouting water."

   As the doors opened, Johnny B. entered at a safe distance behind Iain, to be sure that potential spring traps and charging rhineroceruses would hit him rather than his own pretty face. He looked carefully around himself, conscious about not touching anything at all. For a moment, he surveyed the hallway, trying to determine whether the place was inhabited or not - going by cobwebs in corners or kneedeep layers of dust. He also spent a moment trying to listen for any noise out of the ordinary. Finally satisfied with his semi-paranoid observation, he admired himself for a moment in the mirror and returned to his more ususal self.
   "Yeah guys, entering this house is the very action we will regret for hours to come. If somebody as much as thinks of saying the words Let's split up! I'll gut you slowly with rusty butterknife, after which I will eat your entrails and dance happily on your grave... With that established; where are our bloody hosts?" Johnny asked, questionally, before remembering the door which opened entirely on its own accord. He turns around to try to find any mechanism which could have done it, while still taking care not to touch anything.

This message was deleted by the player at 05:58, Mon 26 July 2004.

Pieran entered quickly after Johnny, and took up the best tactical position possible from the right side of the main door, allowing him first aim at the stairs or the hall. He drew his bow string taught as he eyed the room, readied to raise and shoot if the need arose.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:37, Mon 26 July 2004.

   Johnny eyed Pieran doubtfully, trying to see what he was aiming at. "But if we do spilt up, I want to be with that guy," he said, indicating the heavily armed madman with a drawn bow.

Raven watched the door swing open and the others enter one by one. “I’m disappointed. I was kind of hoping Lurch would answer the door.”

She followed the others in and took stock of the room. “All we need is a devilish Monty Hall asking us if we want to trade our soul for what’s behind door number one, number two, or number three.”



“Anyone else notice how there are seven of us and seven doors, if you count the one we just came through? Or, if you want to count just the remaining doors, perhaps Dren and I are supposed to pick a door together, since we came in together.” Raven glanced at Johnny, “Not that I’m suggesting that we split up.” Raven was speaking with that same unconcerned, matter-of-fact tone that was probably becoming all too familiar to the group. “I’m not looking to get my entrails spread on Mr. Hope’s butter knife. I’m just thinking out loud.”

She walked around the room, examining the furnishings. “There are some nice pieces in here.” Raven ran her hand along one of the benches. “No dust. Everything looks like it’s still being well maintained.”

   Johnny grinned shamelessly. "Good to see somebody is taking me seriously," he said in a voice that didn't quite reveal what he actually meant.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:11, Mon 26 July 2004.