The Grey Dust

🦄 Machiavellian Masquerade - Chapter 1

Master Plum

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Location: Shadowell Manor: Music Room (Couch Left)
Skills: N/A
Hit Points: 5
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Tick tick tick, tock tock tock, tick tock tick tock. The movement of idle hands around the clock, with every second came and gone, moved the pieces and the pawns. The dolt and Rave went one, Creme and the lady another, and between the four of them perhaps one will find some help. For now Plum had to keep his foot dressed, soaking up the sanguine wine. Had Mauve not sunk the dagger deeper perhaps the bleeding would have stopped, but that witch had to have her sadistic fun. At least now she would have to be wary around him, for what sort of man forgives so easily such cruelty? In self defense he protected himself from her sudden assault, but next time he would need no weapons to punish her aggression. Well, just his mind perhaps, just his mind.

And in his time alone, Plum relaxed, chuckling to himself. His bird still flitting about the piano, watching the master smile. A sharp whistle of his trained companion and there the raven flew back to the man's shoulder. The only one he knew he could care to trust, his faithful feathered friend. A clicking of this tongue entertained his bird, though the man was still hunched over applying pressure to his foot. The pain was bearable, a wincing sting here and there, but fortunately the body's response to such shock was just that. Surely by the time the dinner guests arrive, he'd be walking with a limp. If walking at all, Plum mused with a grimace. Where was that doctor? Why did he take so long to find?

Talking to his raven, and pouting his woes and worries, they may think Plum mad. Complaining in their secret way of all things to a bird's ear, of Mauve's treachery, of the idiot's stupidity in standing there wasting time, and of how the Lord of the Manor himself wanted them all dead. Of course the raven never spoke, never more speaking than Plum's imagination. Perhaps it was the bloodless, or was the man truly mad enough to think himself talking with himself? Yet none were around to hear him speak to the blackest beak, thus could the man be his true self, and let himself unwind.

🦄 Machiavellian Masquerade - Chapter 1

Master Plum

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Location: Shadowell Manor: Music Room (Couch Left)
Skills: Intelligence
Hit Points: 5
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He just stood there deaf and dumb. In his place he stays, vacant in his gaze, as if caught in a daze, lasting for weeks and days, obliviously unchanged and unfazed. Much to Plum's dismay, his efforts were wasted on this imbecile. This untactful man just stood there, doing nothing but taking up space, did he not see Plum was in distress? Or was it all part of the man's sinister plan? Choosing the action of inaction? Either way Plum's one bit of respite was to think to himself that this man's lifespan was dwindling faster than his. Either the man was ignorant to the situations around him, and would not last long this evening as Mauve lurked around, or he was hoping to earn himself the enmity of Plum which was a dangerous investment.

Fortunately, Rave was able to help, and help they did. Convincing someone else to fetch aid. Albeit Plum could swear they went the wrong way, but his eye was hardly able to keep track of who is going where from which exit and make sure Rave was not also trying to kill him accidental or otherwise. Good intentions have bad outcomes at times. And if he had some ingredients at hand he could make a remedy but that would require an open pantry perhaps? No, his best hope was the doctor, who as last Plum knew, was somewhere down the corridor. He would tend to himself and apply the pressure, allowing Rave to go find the doctor, who per his last statement to the idiot man, was somewhere down the corridor, and not the room of refreshment.


"Yes, well versed and well versed,
Thus let us have the roles reverse,
for your efforts and words coerced,
Thank you Rave, my dearest nurse."

Taking matters into his own hand, pressing down on the wound, the warm trickle of blood in his hands still. There dubiously he questioned the sanctity of this cloth, wicking away the crimson tide. Yet twas all he had at a measure of worth, a deep wound bled and bled. It would certainly be a thorn in his heel for awhile to walk. More blood, alas, the bleeding had not yet stopped. A bit here and there, still bleeding as Plum was aware, pressing as best he could. Where is that doctor for a more thoroughly skilled assessment?

🦄 Machiavellian Masquerade - Chapter 1

Master Plum

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Location: Shadowell Manor: Music Room (Couch Left)
Skills: Intelligence
Hit Points: 5
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To keep a man's dagger, and to wipe his blood upon his very clothes. A stain that will not remove itself so easily as you think. For the blood shall bleed through the fabric, and ingrain itself upon the very fibers. Despite it all a quaint smile came to Plum's lips. She had harmed him, injured him, and thought she could cleanly escape. But alas, a sinister sparkle came to his eyes as his mind brooded over his options. She chose to make an enemy out of him, while he extended a hand of allegiance. Then an enemy she shall find, as he pondered how he should vex her out of pure spite. A few coins paid to the serving staff? A poison slipped into the food and drink? Or should he wait and fetch the dagger while she slept with one eye open?

More over so Rave did her part. Pressing down upon the wound as the crimson wine flowed incarnadine, what a sight by visitors to be seen. Two to be precisely as he intently the treacherous Mauve leave the scene, and the trio of Rave, Plum and Creme. One was the man to meet, the visitor in the penultimate seat, the one he paused to greet and bade wait until they felt the heat. But now of all times what circumstance, that he should join this awkward dance, all of it ill-fated or left to chance. Well here's to hoping.


"Fetch the Doctor I implore,
Please hurry spare my chatter,
Find him down the corridor,
But beware of Mauve and dagger!"

Ever rhyming in stanza and scheme, in all the chaos he remained composed, speaking his poetry rather than prose. In contrast Creme fled flitting back from room to room, a panicked girl all a fume. Rave helped as best they could as Plum instructed, closing vessels as clots constructed. And Bran recovered from the fright, and took wing to take flight. Until back upon a familiar perch the bird sat, the left shoulder of the master and diplomat. Now all that remain to see was if Tack was taken by the notion, and if he too could be roped in.

🦄 Machiavellian Masquerade - Chapter 1

Master Plum

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Location: Shadowell Manor: Music Room (Couch Left)
Skills: Intelligence
Hit Points: 5
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Quite a conniption. And Mauve merely added salt to the wound by a pressure of her palm to gritting teeth and sucking of air of Plum, before unceremoniously assisting him with the removal of the bloody thorn. And how she held the dagger as bitterly as Plum's eyes glared daggers at her behind his mask. She taunted him, threw the ball back into his court. Curse his ill fated fortune, but let the villain gloat and tout her victory. Gives a man time to think, and the hundreds of possibilities quickly calculated and narrowed out to one. Someone else had entered the room, Bram was somewhere near, and there was Rave as witness to the act. The Lord of the Manor cared not for them, and would be of no help to alert the guards. It was time to swallow his pride and admit def-

And then came Rave, armed with a silken cloth, an interloping angel or something much worse? Plum thanked Rave for putting another body into harm's way, surely Mauve would not dare strike now. Then again she did attempt to strike an innocent bird, so why would she pause for Rave? But to stuff the handkerchief into the wound, without removing his split shoe at first? There was a step missing, and Plum's eyes were split between placing his trust in Rave to not mangle up his foot, or Mauve and her bloodlusting dagger. Someone screamed, neither Rave, nor Mauve, nor Himself, all very distracting to his thoughts. He needed a cobbler, a patch to mend the shoe would be needed, if it could even be salvaged. Alternatively he would need new shoes for his feet.


"Oh betrayal is the greatest of all pains,
Summon the doctor please for my pleasure,
All bleeding stops eventually from dry veins,
But for now please apply direct pressure."

Gathered the plan of action, as his mind muddled the maze hobbled on one foot. Surely the message was clear despite his unusual mannerisms? There was a man who by the jist of things was some sort of doctor among their lot. The man who wore a vulture's face, a bird skull much to Bran's distaste. But perhaps it is fortunate that one such came to this place, for he could be Plum's saving grace. Yes, prove him to be of such a type and class, surely a wound as simple as this he could treat.

🦄 Machiavellian Masquerade - Chapter 1

Master Plum

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Location: Shadowell Manor: Music Room (Couch Left)
Skills: Dexterity, Dexterity
Hit Points: 6 -> 5
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As quickly as they came, they left with scarce acknowledgement of the peoples there. Strange strangers who Plum would surely see more of this evening, marking their unmasked faces into the memory for tonight. Yet as they left in open parting, Madam Mauve gave Plum a startling. Approaching him close as if to whisper a word, but alas such deception unveiled as she threatened his bird. In the guise of civil talk, she came to attack him and his flock. Thus now the talons drawn and fangs bared, for such treachery Plum came prepared. And as his Raven took wing to flee, Plum grabbed the dagger from its sheathe hidden at his side beneath the caped costumery. To plunge a dagger into the threat, and see what damage such actions doth beget.

And in a flurry furiously fuming, a hidden dagger pulled unassuming, in swiftness there the error lay. For in the sudden action and surprise, with the ruffled flaps did the raven rise, but his dagger had not quite cleared the sheath! Pulled at an angle in a draw, flying at the bird with perilous caws, as the piercing tip soars from beneath! Yet fortune's folly favours the feathered friend, as quick flight saved Bran from a mortal end, twas the hilt which struck and jaunted the dagger's course. To which The wheel of fate turned on Plum and filled his actions with dire remorse. Alas embedded through his shoe with a twinge of pain, a disloyal dagger dug in with disdain, and until pulled there it should remain. Indeed treachery was a foot, And that was surely, sorely cause for much regret.

For now at least Bran was safe from Mauve, but their game isn't quite over yet.

🦄 Machiavellian Masquerade - Chapter 1

Master Plum

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Location: Shadowell Manor: Music Room (Couch Left)
Skills: Perception
Hit Points: 6
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The invitation accepted, though did they not accept one into danger already? His silent suggestion was taken as Mauve took a seat to his right, a smile crept across his lips, the lower side of his face revealed unlike hers in contrast. The curling horns of red and gold, matched by way the dull light casts the deep shadows over those dark-blue eyes. Veiled and pale, Red and black, white and gold, what mysteries beneath did she hold? It was all a game after all, here invited to this Masquerade ball. But he certainly brought airs of his own, a flair of the ornate cape over his right shoulder, the mismatched color of his eyes. Perhaps Mauve noticed, perhaps she had not, distracted by his rhyme and intricate designs on the mask. And then his raven shriek'd a rousing caw, fluttered wings to herald that which it saw as its master observed the good Madam.

Four strangers entered. Unmasked, Unknown, unburdened, perhaps part of the staff? A closer look was warranted, yet with such haste they already flew past Rave at the piano with nary a word of hello to spare. A stealing glance as they graced by, dressed in all decorum, fit for the stage if Plum had to gauge. For all the finery, perhaps a quartet or a more physical act, and perhaps if not for the well-worn nature of his dress and mask, he may find himself camouflaged amongst them. A hand calmed his raven, stroking the feathers of its crest with a two brushing fingers. These four men were the evening's secondary entertainment, perhaps providing more than Rave did, as much as Plum could care to fathom.


"With neither good looks nor talents suave,
How did this fool intrigue Madam Mauve?"

🦄 Machiavellian Masquerade - Chapter 1

Master Plum

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Location: Shadowell Manor: Music Room (Piano Bench) -> Music Room (Couch Left)
Skills: N/a
Hit Points: 6
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"What a team of Mauve and Creme,
In high esteem quite a delight,
A thread unites us it would seem,
We look forward to more tonight."

A short bow accompanied the reply, the character of the beaked man certainly played out. The slightly cryptic rhymes masking his intent. The words more or less meaning that they appear to, peppered in with the double talk and internal rhyme. Anyone who could appreciate it would be perhaps a worthy adversary to match wits with this evening. Perhaps the doctor sporting a mask similar but not quite the same in meaning to his own. Plum ponder how long it would be until the masks came off, surely they did not think to sleep with them on. Unless of course, their faces were far more hideous beneath the mask and concealed such ugliness with falsehoods and lies.

Creme had shortly left, and Rave it appeared to wander behind Plum, moving past his perched position towards it. Although he could scarcely tell when Rave disappeared over his left side. An instinctual turn of his head tracked the movements that way for a moment as perhaps a learned measure of safety? Minding the positions of where Rave was within the short bubble of personal space. Was Plum not currently the maestro at the piano? His smile dropped and turned into a shallow frown, his form rising from his chair into some ineffective scarecrow. He turned around to see where Rave was, seeing the lady-man touch the rare instrument. Taking himself the left-side of long chair of a couch, Plum seated himself with an open hand gesturing to Mauve should she take the invitation. A turn then for Rave at the keys, perhaps they would play the reprise.

🦄 Machiavellian Masquerade - Chapter 1

Master Plum

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Location: Shadowell Manor: Music Room (Piano Bench)
Skills: Charisma
Hit Points: 6
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"Excellent... Prima Rave makes for one,
Then add the two more who have come,
At three the count is not yet done,
For five with Bran and Master Plum."

Pantomiming his tally on the fingers of his right hand as he revealed his name. A closed fist opened like a blooming bud palm up. A thumb abducted out for Rave, then the first two fingers extended to account for the visitants in dress. And then finally the last two fingers flicked out to represent his raven and himself in the order of the little finger first, and then the ring finger. Two figures in women's clothing, a stark contrast to Prima Rave who wore something more befitting a man. And now with his open hand extended at the fully masked person in red, who was the one not to look away and step away from the group, the beaked man made his pitch in an attempt to gain her allegiance.


"And who are you so heavily masked?
With porcelain cheeks and ruby lips,
Forgive this fool for having asked,
What beauty lies under mask eclipsed?."

The board needed setting, each piece to be aligned as this evening passed. The weather shut them in together, these strangers who perhaps were looking to pluck the same lily as he. A cabin fever to ensue the coupe, how many minutes will it be until another fell dead? The locket weighed still as a reminder of the danger and the fortune to be made, and thus the most dangerous game he still played. without insult, without harm, with only dandy and darkest charm, there was no trace of her alarm/ for now it seemed he caused them all no grievance.

🦄 Machiavellian Masquerade - Chapter 1

Master Plum

≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎
Location: Shadowell Manor: Music Room (Piano Bench)
Skills: Intelligence, Charisma
Hit Points: 6
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And the prisoners are practicing politics
As the ladies slowly let the boys in,
Yes, we're sharing a drink from the styx,
But it's better than drinking poison.

A few notes perhaps, played by trifling fingers, daring to touch the instrument's keys. Music was no great feat in itself, all one had to do was kidnap and assault unsuspecting notes, plucked from the air and shoved into a prison of bars. Gather enough of them, and perhaps you will have a great cacophony of noise. Order them to march, adjusting their arrangements, silencing one and the other as arbitrarily as you desire, and then perhaps you will have a tune. A Theme with tempo, but is it music or just the work of perfected chaos? His fingers played a simple line, key by key tested, random steps up or down, not really quite a song as he strained to remember where the notes went. Nevertheless Plum tested his skills, trying to play himself a memory, though not really sure how it goes.

An interruption. Abrupt and discordant. His raven shook itself as the visitant walked into the music room. Turning his head right to have his eye meet the other's gaze within the room. His body followed after, pivoting around the bench to face one mask to another. The black feathers were a questionable fashion, did they seek more from his friend? But those horns made the Casanova earlier not the only devil it seems. Recalling nothing about any interaction between them thus far, first impressions are everything, Plum returned the greeting with a short bow bending at the seated waist as his raven crows.


"And hello fellow stranger,
A pleasure we share tonight?
For in this place of danger,
A friend is a welcome sight.
And I may gain your name,
If give you one the same?"

🦄 Machiavellian Masquerade - Chapter 1

Master Plum

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Location: Shadowell Manor: Music Room (Piano Bench)
Skills: Perception
Hit Points: 6
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Hear the tolling of the bells, wonder bells...
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels.
In the silence of the night, How we sadly lack insight.

Bells. What alarm do they bring? Snapping him from thoughts. Ill omens of their doom? Or perhaps the herald of a dinner to be served? A death knell or dinner bell. Neither which Plum could not tell, and waved off for as of now he was alive and well. Stretching his legs perhaps resembling a rising stork, or more aptly a wandering scarecrow, the man left his post with bird in hand. There was a piano in the room, yes, a piano. Not a harpsichord or organ, but a piano. How much did one of these cost to possess? The man rubbed his chin with a curled finger as he eyed the awaiting instrument. The chair was inviting him to sit, to sit behind the piece, as grand and beautiful as it were. The inlays of ivory keys like alabastar, and ebony as black as jet. The wood exquisitely polished with a fine varnish waiting for a touch.

Behind him the breakfast room, to which his raven had turned towards to view the snacking women. The beady eyes so astutely grim, as if to grant its master eyes on the back of his head. That or its hunger thought to case down the bits of human meat with something sweet. A hunger that made the black feathered turn its claws and feet, and at a moment's noticed fly to eat. Yet the master gave not the command to fly as Plum turned his back on the ladies, such fairer genders would not care to bother him much.