Tranquillina glances back and forth between the other two, hoping one of them might advance a counterargument. But even she must admit that the words, and tone of voice, they heard were troubling. "I guess one of us could see - oh, that's stupid," she interrupts herself uncharacteristically. "It makes no sense to wait here," she mutters. "Let us be on with it then." Smoothing her dress down, she starts walking down the path that leads towards the well-carved staircase up the peak.
As the three magi ascend the staircase, the shouting subsides... somewhat. There's still a voice yelling, and a second one answering in cringing, servile tones, but the words remain indistinct.
The ledge that the staircase leads to is broad and deep, flooded by warm autumn sunlight, sheltered from the worst of the winds by outcrops of raw rock to either side; a half-open door at the back of it leads to what is presumably a living space. The ledge and the cave both used to be Viscaria's laboratory, and signs of that are still apparent: a stone chair near the entrance where Vin Diesel used to sit, an acid-scarred lab table off to one side, a summoning circle engraved in the rock. (Tranquillina may well have an unkind thought or two upon seeing this: something about trading one dwarf for another, and coming out that much poorer in the bargain, perhaps.)
Rahere, Stultus' ape familiar, is sitting tailor-fashion on top of a boulder... and Stultus himself is on his knees in the boulder's shadow, his back to the staircase, grovelling before the ape. The magi come into view just in time to see Rahere lean over and demand "So was I correct in murdering his daughter?"
"Very, very correct, your honour!" gasps Stultus, sounding terrified. "If she had three throats, they should all have been cut!"
"You're just sucking up to me, you pathetic cur!" snarls Rahere, and pulls a long stick out of thin air, pointing it like a sword at the dwarf's throat. "Swear - or I'll kill you - you're not just saying that to make me like you."
"I swear on my life," whines the dwarf, cringing, "it's all I've got to swear on! Please, remove your sword! It's too close... I can see the blood, glistening!"
"Suppose it was the Gorgon's head. Afraid you'd turn to stone?"
"No, to a corpse! I cannot see any Gorgon's head."
"A slave should not fear death," growls the ape. "Death sets you free!"
Stultus throws his head back, and some trick of the ledge's acoustics makes his response ring out in tones as clear as a bell's peal. "Freedom to live as we choose -- that is what all men want, whether slave or citizen."
There's a short pause, and Stultus pushes himself to his feet, saying in a conversational tone completely at odds with what had gone before "Yep, that works. Works very well, in fact. Thank you, Rahere..." He breaks off as he finally notices the ape looking at something over his shoulder, and spins around, only to find the three magi standing there and (no doubt) staring at him like he'd suddenly grown a second head.
"Uhm... sodales! What an, um, unexpected surprise." He actually colors deeply -- for once, at a loss for words. "We were just ... um... that is to say... I mean... I'm sorry, sodales." It's not clear what, if anything, he's apologizing for.
Gerulf's nostrils flare at the scene, and his teeth are set as he involuntarily smooths his robes once again. "Stultus," he eeks out in greeting. "I see you are quite... ehm, busy, at the-"
The summoning circle on the floor rapidly gains his attention, obliterating all other thoughts. His eyes narrow, and he looks up at the dwarf. "Is this yours?" he asks, pointing his cane at the engraving. He bites his lower lip as his dark brown eyes move from Stultus to the ape and back, seeking an answer from either.
(( Going to give Fiona and/or Tranquillina a chance to respond here before I do. 
))
((For sure. I sense great potential in this scene. Nice intro there, too.))
Fiona doesn't spare the scenery much more than a cursory glance. Her main concern is to find out what's going on and maybe stop anyone from killing or being killed.
Fiona looks at the two as the reality sinks in. She then grins, and then starts to laugh. A chuckle at first, quickly escalating to full-fledged gales of laughter.
Tranquillina might have been the first to set eyes upon the scene, but in her confusion she is definitely last to react. Stultus's stuttering welcome, Gerulf's abrupt change of topic, and Fiona's booming laughter bounce around in her mind as she tries to make sense of what had been going on. At the very least, she decides, the dwarf is legitimately embarrassed at having been scene acting in this way*; she has the good grace to feel slightly guilty about the pleasure his discomfiture causes her. She isn't quite sure what Gerulf is getting at with his question, though, and chooses to remain silent for the moment. ((offline Folk Ken rolls of 12 and 7, respectively))
A little later in the conversation, she asks: "What was the significance of the bit about the Gorgon's head?"
- yes, terrible pun, I know 8)
Stultus relaxes slightly as Fiona starts laughing, offering the tall maga a smile. He blinks at Gerulf's question, looking at the engraving like he's seeing it for the first time: it's plain he doesn't really understand what the big deal is. "Well, I suppose it is mine now. I didn't put it in, though. Viscaria used this entire ledge as her laboratory: I'm assuming she created it and then left it behind, along with ... some other things." His lips twist wryly at that last, his voice dry as dust. It's pretty clear he's less than thrilled at some of the other things he thinks Viscaria left behind.
"Ah!" Stultus smiles at the goat-footed maga. "I'm sure that you've recognized the source material I'm adapting -- Orestes, by the great Euripides. Orestes has been compared to Perseus a number of times, and his mother Clytemnestra is referred to as a gorgon in The Libation Bearers. That's a very heavy bit of foreshadowing: just as Perseus was pursued by the Gorgons after his slaying of Medusa, so is Orestes harrowed by the Furies after his murder of Clytemnestra. In that scene that we were just rehearsing, the sword that Orestes holds to the slave's neck is the very same blade that slew Clytemnestra, and it's still got Helen's blood on it. So him saying 'suppose it were the Gorgon's head' is very revealing.
Orestes, in his madness, thinks of himself as a hero. A slayer of monsters. It's one of the ways he's trying to come to terms with the terrible things he's done. The slave's response only underscores his insanity. 'Gorgon? What gorgon? I'm in fear of my life because you're holding a great whacking sword to my neck, you maniac!'"
(( Horrendous. Hie thee to a punnery, forthwith. 
))
Gerulf examines the circle from afar, giving leeway to his colleagues for their conversation. Nonetheless, at the next opportunity, he says, "I should very much like to know more about these leftovers Viscaria has inadvertently bequeathed to you. Are you otherwise settling in comfortably? I myself have found the manor most accommodating."
Stultus blinks at Gerulf. "Oh, I'd be delighted to introduce you... I'm settling in quite well, all things considered. Would the three of you like to come in and sit down for a few minutes? I know that climb is hell on my legs." He glances over at Tranquillina's feet and Fiona's spider legs. "I will admit I hadn't considered that solution before, though. Thank you for the idea."
Tranquillina is indeed still winded from the climb, so she is content to agree to a brief stay. Without making too big a deal of it, she tries to stay at a reasonable distance from Rahere - far more than would be necessary if she were afraid of contact by the ape, which doesn't seem to trouble her anyhow. She is comfortable up until (and unless) she has to decide whether to cross Stultus's sanctum marker, at which point she definitely does not take the lead.
There are some magi (actually, most magi) who protect their living quarters with their sanctum marker as well, and have a separate "receiving room" where they entertain their sodales. Stultus doesn't have enough space for an actual receiving room: his living quarters, therefore, are not protected by a Sanctum mark.
He leads the way into his quarters, only to stop dead just inside the door. Peering over his head (which isn't all that hard a task) the other three magi see what's given him pause.
The living quarters are rather spartan and undecorated, though the natural beauty of the cave is undeniable. Glowing mineral outcroppings snake their way across the ceiling and walls, casting bands of bright light across the room. There's a low bed, a similarly low writing desk, a number of chairs (both dwarf-sized and normal size) clustered around a table next to the fireplace, a wardrobe, a cupboard, and a washstand. (The furniture is rather utilitarian. Tranquillina and Fiona probably recognize a great deal of it as having belonged to Viscaria: Stultus saw absolutely no reason to make servants lug new furniture all the way up the mountain when there was perfectly good existing furniture available).
A door in the partition that divides the cave into two is standing open, with Stultus' sanctum marker (a jester's hat over two crossed quills, in a skull-and-crossbones configuration) over the door clearly marking it as his lab. The only thing that's visible, though, are some bare tables and crates packed with lab equipment. He hasn't had time to set up the lab yet.
So far, so good. Nothing remarkable. Why did he stop, then?
The bed is piled high with blankets and pillows. One of the pillows, however, is in the middle of the floor, and it looks like it's been disemboweled, a huge rip down the middle of it. Feathers drift gently through the air and cover the floor of the cave like snowdrifts.
And then, there are the mice. Dozens of them, all through the room, walking on their hind paws, dressed in scraps of bright cloth and swatches of cat fur. There's a full dozen of them on the surface of the table, practicing close-order drill using forks and table knives as pikes, with a sergeant squeaking commands and calling time. One is scaling the wardrobe, using a climbing harness made of thread, and there are a couple of pink baby mice attempting (with some success) to launch a raft made of splinters in the wash-basin. The second Stultus enters the room, every head turns in his direction, and a tinny cheer goes up. "HAIL! THE GOD RETURNS! HAIL THE PINT-SIZED GOD OF THE PRODIGIOUS PROBOSCIS!"
Stultus stutters. "Wh... what the hell did you people do to my PILLOW?!?"
"It is the Holy Festival of the Odd Duck!" chorus the mice. "Feathers were Required for the Sacred Procession!"
Stultus takes a step into the room -- which is enough for the mice to see the three magi clustered behind him. Another cheer goes up. "HAIL! HAIL THE HOLY VISITORS OF THE PINT-SIZED GOD! HAIL THE GOD OF DARK THOUGHTS IN LONELY PLACES! HAIL THE EVER-CHANGING GODDESS OF THE GIANT HEART!! HAIL THE BRILLIANT GODDESS OF THE..."
Stultus's roar drowns out the mice. "All right, that's about enough of that!" (Goodness, who'd've thought he could muster that much volume?) He stomps forward, singling out the lone mouse on top of his writing desk -- yeah, that one, the one wearing a rat skull as a helmet and wielding a bottle brush as a staff of office. "You. This is a one-time offer. I want to talk to my friends, and I do not wish to be disturbed. I can do that. I have a fist-sized hunk of cheese that says so."
The high-priest mouse considers. "The Offering Is Acceptable". (No one can pronounce capitals like Aeslin mice can pronounce capitals.)
Stultus straightens, casting a look at Rahere. The ape grabs a hunk of cheese from the cupboard, and herds the mice (who are cheering about the ONE-TIME FESTIVAL OF THE CHEESY COMESTIBLES) into the lab area. Rahere follows them inside, and shuts the door. Blessed silence reigns, broken only by a heavy sigh from the dwarf.
Tranquillina blinks.
(( I was going to edit my previous post, but Tranquillina posted, so I'll just make a new one.))
"And that, Gerulf," Stultus says heavily, "would be Viscaria's other surprise legacy. Please, sodales, come in, sit down. Sorry about the feathers."
[color=blue]"If I'd known this is what it takes to get you to admire my legs, I would have done this months ago," Fiona says with a wink and a grin.
Fiona also pauses at the door and stares at the mice, trying to hide a snicker. ((Com 2 + Guile (Hiding true feelings) 3 + (die roll of 1, followed by another 1, followed by a die roll of 8, for a 32) = 37.)) I'd say she did a right nice job of not snickering 
[color=blue]"I suppose there are more embarrassing praises they could be singing," she mutters.
She finds a clean spot and sits tailor-style on the floor, bending over as she settles with no sign of self-consciousness, giving Gerulf a view down the front of her blouse and Tranquillina a gander at her backside.
Tranquillina had been willing to take a seat in Stultus's room, since she didn't have to cross a sanctum marker to do so; however, after the murine extravaganza, she's feeling even more unsettled than before, and elects to remain standing. "Did ... ah, Viscaria never mentioned anything about these magical mice...?" She seems to have trouble formulating a specific question, since the entire phenomenon clearly warrants explanation.
Stultus waddles to the other end of the room, extracting several mugs and a pitcher of ale from a niche in the wall. ( Unless there's something that the inhabitants of Mons Electi drink on a regular basis instead of ale: I know about the vintner, but I didn't see an alewife or anything like that.) Tranquillina's question catches him on the way back to the table, and he briefly looks surprised.
"She didn't? I don't know, then. Maybe the mice aren't her fault. I just assumed they were because you find all sorts of odd beasties living with magi." He sets up the mugs, pouring the ale as he talks. "I asked them where they came from, and when. The only thing I understood of their answer was that they arrived in the Month of Don't Look At The Moon. I tried to correlate that to human time, but gave up on that when I figured out that the months keep changing. For instance, I believe today is the fifth day of the Sacred Month of Goddammit Rahere Where Are My Pants." The last line is delivered in a dust-dry tone.
Fiona takes the drink thankfully and lifts the mug. [color=blue]"Sanitas bona!" she says, then takes a sip, not wanting to drain it all in two swallows.
[color=blue]"I'm glad someone was able to get your pants off of you," Fiona says with a smirk.
[color=blue]"To be honest, I think this might be the first time I've ever been up here. Iosephus wasn't here long enough to get to know him, and Viscaria...let's just say that I would have been more of an imposition than I normally am."
She looks around. [color=blue]"Have you gotten settled in yet?"
"Indeed, I was surprised that you volunteered to assume ownership of this idiosyncratic sanctum," Tranquillina appends, "so I hope you do not regret your choice." She looks around the spartan quarters, her expression (while lacking malice) clearly conveying a "better you than me" evaluation.
She turns next to an evaluation of the beverage: as is common with her, she wisely decides to err on the side of caution when it comes to alcohol consumption. And it's a good thing too, as the ale starts her temples buzzing as soon as she's had a couple of slow sips. ((Int 3 + Carouse 2 + stress die 5 = 10, and Sta -3 + Carouse 2 + stress die 6 = 1.)) "Sláinte," she offers around the room, feeling a bit smug about sharing a word with only Fiona until she remembers that Stultus can also understand her.
"Oh, it's the easiest thing in the world!" guffaws the dwarf. His hands come up, miming the first two actions he describes. "You just grab -- yank down -- stare in awe and wonder, and acquire a staggering inferiority complex if you happen to be male. Nothing to it!"
Stultus mmms thoughtfully. "Well, the climb is a pain in the posterior, of course. I feel truly terrible any time I have to ask the servants to bring something up. I'm going to need to come up with something to ease their burden once I've got my lab set up... maybe next year sometime. But overall, I like it. It's got... character." He briefly contemplates informing the other magi that the ability to piss on the entire world if one feels like it is an advantage, but he doesn't think Tranquillina or Gerulf will appreciate the humor. Fiona would likely find it hilarious, though.
Stultus, being the linguist bastard that he is, echoes "Slainte!" and takes a drink before going back to talking. "The mice I've found to be a mixed blessing. They're irritating -- but they're entertaining, they keep other pests out, and unlike their mundane cousins don't gnaw the books and don't leave their droppings all over the place. I just wish I could stop them from... well. Never mind," he ends in a mumble. "My problem, and it's somewhat embarrassing."