The group stands out in the cold for a while, wondering if the people in the house will ever answer the door.
The house itself is rather large. Three stories, with possible room for an attic, in a town such as this it is by and large the most magnificent building in the area. The lands are well maintained, not that there is much maintaining to do in the winter. But the snow is shoved off the walkways, and there are some lanterns that can be lit at night lining them as well.
After what seems like forever, the door finally opens to reveal an ancient man in a fine suit. He moves very, very slowly, as he takes in the group.
"May I..." he says, slowly looking from one person to another, his mouth hung open. Not I surprise, or forgetfulness. More like it simply stopped halfway to the next word. Eventually, it moves again. "...help you?"
Seeing nothing of interest around the house, Asherah rejoins the others as the front door opens and an ancient human man peers out. Her tail swishes in annoyed anticipation as he speaks...very...slow...ly…
“Yes!” the tabaxi finally speaks up. “We’re here to help.”
The ancient man's brows furrow, and his mouth works, as if trying to say something but nothing comes out. Eventually, in a gravelly voice and speaking very slowly, "The...Academy? Why...yes...I remember such fond times..."
"Horidal," a new voice says, as a younger man, mid thirties perhaps, steps up to the door, hand on the ancient man's face. "It's ok, Horidal. I'll get the door. Why don't you go and set the table for breakfast."
Horidal, as the old man seems to be called, blinks a few times, looking at this newcomer. Again, not with forgetfulness or stupidity. Just as if reacting very, very slowly.
"Yes, milord," he says at last, turning and moving into the house. "Must prepare...for breakfast."
The younger man turns to the group. He is very finely dressed, with short cropped dark hair and an air of authority about him.
"I heard you were from the Academy. So the Headmaster actually sent someone. Please, please, come in. I didn't expect so many of you. I am Araque Hercule. My wife is Kerowyn Hurcule, the one who requested your aid."
You are ushered into the house, which is very finely decorated. It is nice and warm, as well. He takes you to a sitting room.
"I must apologize for Horidal," Araque said. "He was once a great Knight, back in his youth. Graduated top of his class at the Academy. Went on many adventures with my great grandfather, but on their last one, he got hit with a spell that sapped his intelligence to nearly nothing. He never truly recovered. Took him twenty years to start speaking again. By now, he can run the household well enough, if we give him the time. He's not stupid, mind. He's just...slow."
He offers you a drink as you sit. "My wife will be down soon. Then we can talk business."
On a side note, I was reading through some of the old posts. This has been a great game. You all have been amazing. I'm very happy to have been able to play over a thousand posts with you. And still at level 1!
Solve this upcoming conundrum, and I'll level you up to level 2.
Grody notes the unusual circumstances of the Hercule family butler. But he maintains his guise as Jordy's own servant, keeping his head down and his snout covered by his deep hood. He looks around, taking in all the details available at his knee height.
Asherah purred with delight as she wrapped her hands around the warm milk she was offered, with just a kick of whiskey. It was too early to be drinking seriously, of course. She curled up in a seat by the fire as they awaited the Lady Hercule.
“You have a nice home,” she told Araque. “I hope we are able to help you.”
Not long after everyone sits and/or has their refreshment, Kerowyn Hurcule arrives, a young girl in tow. Kerowyn is a stately woman in her mid thirties, finely dressed and obviously well bred.
The girl, her and Araque's daughter, presumably, simply stands in the corner and crosses her arms, pouting. She can't be more than eight or nine, but something has left her somewhat cross.
"Good, everyone is here," Kerowyn says, taking a seat. "I am glad the old headmaster took my call. I wasn't sure if he would. My family has known him for generations, now. How has your stay been in town?"
Quentin sits down, putting his weapon in the corner in the easy reach. As he notices the girl pouting and at the moment only listening, leaving others to talk, he concentrates on the water he poured in his cup. As he pretends to drink, the water flows out to his back and sticks there. He then pours some wine. The water at his back forms small arm and waves toward the girl. It then changes to pouting face that quickly transforms to a smiling one.