The skies, though grey, did not feel particularly dreary that morning on the hill. Mist hung like a translucent, moist curtain around the whole area, and even though the sun could be seen, its direct light was shielded by clouds thick enough to prevent its penetration, though they were still thin enough to glow a brilliant white in the immediate area of where that disc of radiance held itself aloft. The grass was dewy, but not so heavily that it would leak through the soles in one's boots, and standing on the top of the hill like some kind of dark bastion in contrast the the whites and greys of the day was a rather old manor, nearly the size of a small castle. Windows were not broken, or boarded over but still hid everything from the prying eyes of the outside world with heavy black drapery. The outside lacked any paint, and was a dark gray from the stone and old wood used to build it, and it brought to the minds of many the visualization of a man, a grizzled, wizened old man at that, one who had much experience and was most certainly not in the best of shape, but still refused to give in to time, willing to trudge on as life demanded it.<br/><br/>In front of the manor's large, black oak double doors stood three men, one of them of a most wondrous size for a human. He was six-and-one-quarter feet tall and broad as a bugbear at the shoulder, looking strong enough to wrestle a vrock to the ground. He smiled in a way that a teacher would when he was happy with his students; though the ones that stood before the man were hardly his students, that did not mean that they knew all there was to know. Wearing armor that shone like mithral, though it was tempered with some kind of material that made it a grim black, the only thing on him that was any brighter than the shimmer of his armor was the brilliance of his eyes, even blacker than his plate. Crow's feet at the corners and slight bags under then, he looked not as though he was old so much as he did as though he had seen several lifetimes' worth of horrors, the stresses having made their mark. His arms crossed over his chest proudly as he looked over the group of folks on the grass.<br/><br/>To this man's right was another, also in blackened armor. He was not as tall nor as broad as the other, but was still obviously one of shape. Platinum blonde hair fell over one eye, just long enough to reach his earlobe, a small gold ring dangling from it. His eyes, blue as ice, looked less jovial, but if possible, even more kind than those of the first man. He did not smile, his face plain, but such things were unnecessary to convey how pleasant he felt.<br/><br/>Finally, the third was not quite a man, though he was definitely male. To the first man's left stood a half-elven fellow with long, auburn hair that fell to the middle of his back in a  low, braided ponytail. In one hand he held a staff, and the other rested on his hip, a black sash made of silk holding a robe that was just as dark with a black cherry lining on the hem and his sleeves. His green eyes looked at the people in front of him in a manner that was aloof, but not condescending in the slightest.<br/><br/>Finally, the first man stepped just a few steps forward, and in a voice that boomed into the trees that surrounded the estate, said, "Who thinks that they were given summons to aid us in the slaying of a few fiends and then be given some gold and tea afterward?" A few people raised their hands.<br/><br/>"Well, you're wrong," he said, his smile not fading a bit as hands and faces fell. "For those of you who thought so and are sorely disappointed, you may leave, as we have no other business with you." Those who'd raised their hands, as well as a few others, had left. Standing before the three men remained only four, though a strange four they were. One of them was a young man with a beard worthy of praise. On each side of him was another woman, these two both elves, albeit of different sorts. One was immediately and unmistakably recognizable as a drow, one of the dwellers of The Underdark, while the other was a grugach, her eyes silver but her hair a deeply contrasting red. Finally, near the three stood a fairly androgynous mind flayer, something that almost made the man tilt his head. It was of little matter to him, as illithids were known for knack to work together efficiently; besides, he'd seen much stranger and horrific things than a mind flayer. "Ah, so it seems that at least a few of us know what we're to do here. And now, for the sake of avoiding awkward situations, let us now make our introductions, hm? I am Orlando Lindemann, member of The Black Cult of Ahm and black monitor, as are my two companions, Himmel Kruspe-" he gestured to the man on his right, who gave a modest bow- "and Liam Halifax. May I have your own?"<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>