The Thing That Swindled Snarliky

[Seraphim Moonshadow]

ACT ONE, SCENE ONE

It was a gentle mid-summer’s day at Pleasant Manor. The zesty sea-salt air lazily whispered through the large trees with their leafy green leaves. Miss Gwyn Winnie Duopp hiked up her skirts and slipped over the bare back of a sorrel Quarterhorse named Sundash. The mare whickered softly and Gwyn patted the mare’s warm neck and clucked gently. Sundash turned around in a circle, her ears flickering back and forth.

“Come on, Sundash. Let’s go to the orchard!” Gwyn said, pressing her heels into Sundash’s sides. The mare flipped back her ears and began to trot across the pasture in the bright noonday sun. Gwyn leaned over Sundash’s neck, feeling the silky rhythm of the mare’s strides. Her hawk-like green eyes were focused on the orchard, her legs nudging the mare in the general direction of it.

“Gwyn! Gwyn!” someone in the distance behind her called. Oh drat. You’re not going to catch me this time!Gwyn thought and slapped Sundash’s neck. Sundash leapt into a gallop, her legs flying own and coming back together as they rushed down the hill towards the orchard.

[Sugarbay]

"Gwynn! Gwynn! why does she alway take off like that, like some crazy person everytime I need to talk to her?" Exasperated she shut the window and fanned herself vigorouslywith her hand. "This blasted heat!" She rounded on the figure sniffing the oriental carpet of the music room where she had been playing a sonata only moments before when she had heard the front door open , then slam shut and the clattering of horses hooves on the crushed shell that made up the drive.

"Everytime there is something to be discussed she climbs on that filthy beast and rides away like the devil himself is after her." Smoothing her skirt Mercedes Fournier stood and watched the man in the confederate unifom sniffing the carpet where a cup of jasmine tea had been spilled three wekks before by Gynn who had dropped it in her clumsy attempt to drink it in a lady-like fashion.

"Mister Butler, I insist you get up from there immdiately and stop this infernal sniffing of the carpets. I think you are quite mad! If it weren't for your sister paying your bill on time every month I would toss you out bag and baggage this instant!"

Stepping around the rooting figure she closed the finger board of the piano and carressed the wood lovingly she cast a backward glance at the still sniffing man and swept out of the room slaming the door behind her.

[CharlieDesRosiers]

George Butler was entirely too preoccupied to pay any attention to the venerable Mrs. Fournier.

Not only had he fallen victim to his favorite pastime, but he had also fallen victim to his favorite song.

I'm a little teaPOT, short and STOUT! Here is my handle, here is my SPOUT...

George grated his face into the oriental carpet with gusto. It reeked of tea and feet and dust and other inexplicably comforting things. George knew he wasn't an ordinary sort of man, but he did have his principles. And those principles currently involved the vigorous introduction of his drooling face to a carpet of unknown origins.

George mumbled sweet nothings through a mouth that was never able to form words correctly, as Madam Fournier rattled on about something silly. Women. You could never count on them to take anything seriously.

George didn't mind Mrs. Fournier so much. She seemed to have made up her mind about him almost immediately and that never resulted in actions of any relevance to himself. Nevertheless, he chastised himself absent-mindedly for not behaving more respectably, and allowed himself a moment of sincere regret as the door slammed shut angrily.

Lifting his drooling chin from the carpet and opening his unfortunate eyes, he resolved for the millionth time to behave more dignified-like as picked himself up off the floor. George began to shuffle back to his room as swiftly as possible. It was easier to hear raucous female altercations from such a vantage point, sure as kittens' yawns stink.

George chortled and snorted at his own wit. It was going to be a beautiful day.

[Seraphim Moonshadow]

Gwyn's hair bounced and streamed behind her in the afternoon breeze. The beat and thrum of the horse moving like wildfire beneath her sent electric thrills through her body. What a better way to escape then bareback on her mare! There were no stately permeters or polite coughing in the den, no almost stabbing yourself with the needlework because you were trying to make the stitches so obscenely small that you couldn't see them. There was no better way to spend a day then upon Sundash's back when Mercedes wanted to talk to her.

Gwyn raised her hand across her brow and looked towards the rapidly appearing orchard. She saw someone taking a break under the cool shadows of the trees and she honestly hoped it was Mr Edward Jones...

[sunny]

Sally Smith slammed the oven door closed with a loud metallic “thunk”. She wiped the damp wisps of soft white curls off of her warm forehead with her now free, chubby left forearm. She gently set down on top of the woodstove, a large pan of steaming Bran muffin casserole. She knew there would be protests, but she was used to that. She was bound and determined to keep the people of Pleasant Manor healthy and regular despite, their complaints. Surveying her domestic “domain” with a critical eye, she noticed her sassafrass & chamomile supply was getting low. She wrinkled her brow and wondered if Miss Gwynn had remembered her promise to refill her herbal supply. All at Pleasant Manor loved Gwynn dearly but were all too familiar with her flighty ways. ” I’ll bet she’s off with that Mr. Jones fellow and forgotten all about the herbs.”

Miss Smith then began assembling the tea tray, arranging among a few other small delights, a large amount of the peculiarly “fragrant” casserole in beautiful, flowery, hand painted bowl, hoping to “encourage” the people of Pleasant Manor to partake of it. Carrying the tray, she trotted purposefully into the parlor and set it down. She picked up the little bell on the serving table and rang it. “TEA everyone”! She eyed the room. She then stuck her head out the window and hollered “TEA”! She hoped Mrs. Fournier was in a good mood today, and of course she was going to keep an eye out for that odd Mr. Butler, as she found him rather amusing. She was bound and determined to round everyone up………

[Acez]

"Thats better" said Edward in an exasperated tone. He gurgles down a pint of water and feels its

rrevitalising effects pouring into him. "Thats the hay done for today now just need to do the water rounds." The puffy white clouds crawl across the sky. The trees sway in the light breeze next to the wooden Stables.

He gazes into the near by foliage of the stables and notices a dark figure moving closer to the stables.

A red flash appears at the back of the figure.As it moves closer he is stunned to see it is Gwyn on her beautiful mare Sundash. Nearly tripping over in the process, Edward gets up and tries to hide behind the trees only to fail in his attempt and stumbles to the ground. Another attempt to impress Gwyn failed and only ended up in embarrassment."No! I hope she didn't see me". He ceases to move in an effort to not put further failure

to his pitiful attempt. Edward watches Gwyn unsaddle herself as her hair flows in the gentle breeze.

Gwyn notices him but without any acknowledgment."That was a close one"....

[Seraphim Moonshadow]

FOR WARNING: Remember, no character controlling! You do not say anything of what another person's character does UNLESS they have posted the action or you have their permission to do so. So PLEASE keep that in mind.

[TexasGuy]

Now if there was one thing Mr. Brown enjoyed more than his noon tea, it was getting the chance to sit in the parlor with Gwyn. Though his formalities always got in the way and he'd would only address her as Miss Duopp. He always got the feeling she didn't care for such formalities though. His stay had been brief up to this point, but he could always depend on his tea, the approval of Mrs. Fournier, and of course the dreaded bran muffin and herbs. He was accustomed to finer cuisines from Italy and France. "If only I could enjoy my tea with just Gwyn" he thought, though some what out loud. He grabbed his coat and headed to porch until tea was served.

[Jason]

The Law Office of Phillips, Lancaster & DeHeart was downtown in an old building that originally housed the Pink Elephant bar. The building was a rather unimpressive two story brick structure, the main floor consisted of a small conference room, a library, and a nice little desk for a Secretary, whenever they could keep one from quitting. Upstairs you could find four small office rooms, one was used for storage, one was for Mr. Phillips, who was more interested in golf these days than law, another still for Mr. Lancaster, who was currently serving a ninety-day stint in the County jail for mouthing off to a rather feisty judge, and the last one was for Mr. Gabriel DeHeart, Esquire.

Gabriel was standing, as usual, in front of his large mirror which hung on the wall behind his rather large black walnut desk. Admiring his still youthful appearance, a full head of hair, a clean-shaven face, blue eyes, and blond wavy hair, he looked pretty good, and wondered why more women didn't realize that. A bachelor, he had successfully managed to avoid marriage for thirty-five years now, and he had no intention of settling down for at least another thirty-five years.

Surveying his office from his mirror view, he began to wonder why he hadn't moved on to bigger and better things. His office was nothing special, a drab olive green color with an old fashioned gas light fixture hanging by only two of it's three bolts on a cracked plaster ceiling. Well worn carpet that he often wondered if it wasn't part of the original upstairs brothel, and a single window that afforded a rather unpleasant view of the alleyway. He did have a decent leather chair for himself, and a couple smaller chairs for any visiting clients. His favorite piece of furniture, besides the mirror, was an old, well worn leather couch in the corner where he would occasionally find himself at the end of a long day, with a glass of bourbon in hand.

"That couch has given me a lot of pleasure over the years," he thought to himself. "Course, it's also cost me a few secretaries too," he mused with a grin.

Hanging over on the far wall was a picture of Clarence Darrow, the famous lawyer who defended a Tennessee teacher's right to teach Evolution in public school. DeHeart was no atheist, but his views of God and religion had certainly waned over the years. Growing up in the south, Gabriel was raised a good Southern Baptist. He attended Sunday school, and at one time considered being a Pastor. However, attending college gave him a new perspective on the absolutes of right and wrong. And law school added an additional color to the moral plane.....grey. He knew he owned a Bible, and even had a few verses memorized, but could not for the life of him recall just what happened to it after Law School. Next to the picture of Darrow hung his law degree. DeHeart attended Ole' Miss and graduated top of his class in 1918. Even though he dreamed of being a war hero, a bum knee had kept him out of what was now being called "The War To End All Wars." No matter, he would fight for justice and freedom on the home front, or so he told himself years ago.

In spite of his age, he was growing tired of Law. His partners were finished, the law office had only a few clients, and he realized that something must change if he was going to make some real money for once. Sure he'd finally paid off his student loans, but he wanted more than a small apartment and a few bucks in his pocket.

After a few moments with the mirror, he straightened his tie, smoothed his pants, and reached for his suit jacket. "I think it's time for me to visit Mrs. Fournier," he said out loud. Not that anyone would hear him at such an early hour. But he stated it with some pride, knowing that today could be the start of a new financial future for him. As he walked out the front door of the office, he added to his absent secretary, "I'll be out of the office for the day, just leave any messages on my desk." He locked the front door, spun on his heels, and began walking in the direction of Pleasant Manor.

[Seraphim Moonshadow]

"Tea!" Gwyn heard Sally bellow. Tea indeed. With the sun and the fresh air, who was goose enough to eactually stay indoors while there were things to do!? Gwyn let her hands slide down to Sundash's shoulders, feeling all the mare's muscles resistance as she galloped down the hill in the pasture. She was almost to the orchard now and the apples were in full bloom. A perfect treat for Sundash as well as for her, considering that Gwyn planned to ditch them further to gather the herbs Mrs. Smith. She noted the shape of Edward fumbling and waved erratically in his direction. The orchard fence was coming up by the moment. Gwyn carefully sat in on Sundash's withers as Sundash gathered herself and leapt over the fence with a graceful jump.

"Hello, Mr Jones! Oh, do tell the others I'll be out for a while!" Gwyn yelled at Edward as she and Sundash passed, Gwyn conveniently snatching some apples from the trees. She dashed away from the orchard towards the woods, flippant as ever.

[Sugarbay]

After slamming the door on that hideous creature in HER music room, Mercedes began to fume. It was all Marcus's fault, her deceased husband. With the money he had left her she had intended to spend the rest of her life on the Continent, perhaps even in Italy, where she would enjoy the company of those young Italian men and roam the Tuscany region at will until her hearts content. But no! He had to have conditions in his will!

She remembered sitting in the lawyer's office with it's hideous decor and barely serviceable chairs, listening to that pompous swine with growing horror as he droned on about how she had to co-own Pleasant Manor with that barely tame creature, Gwynn, and then to her disgust as she looked back at the music room door, actually allow that loathesome Mr.Carpet-smeller to board in HER house until his sister stopped sending the monthy stipend for his upkeep. She never knew where to look when she talked to George Butler as his eyes seemed akimbo and she never knew which one to look at as it seemed he was looking at either side on her instead of at her face when she addressed him. He always had lint in the ceaselessly moving eybrows that reminded her of rats roaming around on his forehead.

AS she heard Sally hollar for everyone to come to tea, Mercedes Fournier started to the east end of the house for a chat with the cook about this evenings menu dreading trying to plan a menu with Sally as the cook had ideas of her own and made some ghastly concoctions that always left Mercedes with a sour stomach and vague mutterings in her nether regions. "Bran muffin casserole indeed! We will just see about that tonight!" she said aloud as she felt a twinge of activity in her digestive system. She grabbed ahold of the edge of the mirror in the foyer waiting until the potentially volcanic reaction subsided and then looked into the mirror She scrutinized her face and trim figue and thought, " I am still a pretty woman. I can get any man I want. Perhaps I shall, then I can get out from under this white elephant of a house and live!" She patted her dark blonde hair into place, checked her makeup, and smoothed the bodice of her dress and decided she would get a little fresh air before her daily confrontation with Cook. She reached for the glass doorknob and once again thought how the door knob was one redeeming factor about this house, and pulled the door open. Coming up the drive was a figure, strutting along like one of those filthy stallions they kept in the stable, as if he owned the place.

"Oh no!" Mercedes quickly shut the door, turned her back and leaned against it, heart pounding. "Not him! That beast!" Then realizing that there was someone on the porch, she opened the door again and there was Mr. Brown sitting there with his hat in his hand, looking for all the world like everything was copacetic.

Casting an apprehensive glance at the approaching figure she then turned to Mr. Brown, smiled brightly and proceeded to babble,"How are you, Mr. Brown? Did Gwynn leave you sitting here again? I do wish I could visit but other matters demand my attention! I am so very sorry!"

Hearing the crunch of footsteps on the shells in the drive she whirled and went into the house and closed the door. And then Mercedes began to smile as she always did when she had a good idea.

[Seraphim Moonshadow]

Gwyn boistorously laughed as they fled into the forest. Galloping through the dancing shadows and sparse trees, Gwyn slowed down Sundash and swung right off of the mare, dropping to the ground like the heathen maiden she was. She stood gracefully, breathing in the deep, sweet air, no smile upon her face, nor frown, but a sly look on her face. Gwyn reached down and tied her lady-like blue skirts together and climbed up the nearest tree as high as she could. It took a while to get up there but soon she was up fairly high overlooking the orchard and everyone else, swinging her legs rather grandly, smirking.

"You'll never catch me up here." Gwyn said, fishing in her dress for the brass telescope she had stowed away earlier that morning. Carefully she put it to her eye and scowled at the approaching form of DeHeart. "Why, of all the spiteful heathens, he had to appear just now. I think I'll wait a bit. After all, I did promise cook those herbs."

[Acez]

"Yes Ma'm I will", yells Edward airily as Gywn prances into the forest.

"I must say that was thoroughly too close for me." Watching Gwyn ride

off, Edward suddenly remembers his water rounds."Curse I forgot about

my rounds. With a hop, skip and a jump Edward dashes towards the

stables to give the remaining horses a drink."Wssssssshhhh", the warm

water pours into the buckets of the horses."Thats it for the day for me.

Just have to visit the manor and off I go back home." "Cheerio horsey's",

said Edward gleefully as he sniggers at his clever joke.

Edward strolls heavy footedly, due to his work, towards the Manor. The bees bumbling,

the birds chirping their Serenade, and the cicada's beeping in beat with each other.

Edward continues down the dirt track towards the Eastern side of the Manor.

The sun rays glisten on the Manor's windows and blind Edward in the process.

Crash! Bump! Edward walks into a raspberry bush"AH!! That hurts" as he pulls

the thorns out of his hands and face."Clumsy me, always accident prone."

Heavy footed, sore faced and pride battered Edward walks into the eastern

entrance of the Manor. "Excuse me! Excuse me!.......

[Jason]

Gabriel DeHeart was out of breath. The mile and a half walk to Pleasant Manor was a difficult journey with his bum knee. He would have driven his shiny black 1921 Hudson-Essex, but he liked to appear healthy and strong, so he chose to walk nearly everywhere within a mile or two of town.

“How will I tell her?” he thought to himself. “Will she take option number one, or option number two?” Mercedes Fournier was a smart woman. He knew she hated the terms of the will, and wanted out of Maryland forever. He’d gone over and over the will, looking for a loophole, when it was right there all along. He’d rehearsed exactly what he was going to say to her, and felt well prepared to present his case. The first option, the one he liked best, was to convince Mister Butler’s sister to cease payments and place him in an insane asylum. That would not be very difficult at all, as he himself would approach the sister and convince her it was for the best. Then of course, there was Gwyn. The only way to get her out of the house was to find a suitor capable of marriage. Gabriel had considered being the groom himself, but after some consideration realized that he despised the little brat and would not make it a single week as her husband. She had to remain married for at least six months for the marriage to be recognized and allow Mercedes to be free from the constraints of the will. This plan, he knew, would be possible, but he needed the assistance of Mrs. Fournier in order to make it all work.

For his services, Gabriel would only ask a small portion of the value of the estate. Thirty percent was not an outrageous sum, and certainly allowed Mercedes the financial freedom to move to Italy, or wherever she chose, to live a life of noble debauchery.

“But what if she doesn’t like plan ‘A’?” he thought. The other plan was not to his liking. It would take more time to fulfill, and he was not certain that anyone would believe it. “She better go for plan A” he groaned. “I cannot stand the thought of the other plan!" He would use the second option only if all else failed.

Summoning up his courage and best lawyer oration, he approached the front door...

[TexasGuy]

Impatient as ever, Mr. Brown stood there gazing at the open manor. He stared towards the trees, the bushes, it certainly was nice out here. He had never been around horses before, but has grown accustom to riding them every now and then. Of course that may be due to Gwyn’s influence. He stood there twisting his hat nervously and impatiently. He was not a man who often had this much given free time. Long hours in the office each day brought success and wealth, but little time was left for social relations.

Sure he was known among the elite and often attended annual galas for this or that, and would attend the governor’s and senator’s private parties. However, he did not consider such “white-tie” and “black-tie” events as social gatherings, but rather as business opportunities, as did many other of the elitist who attended. Though he never supported governor Harrington, he never turned down an invitation, especially when Emerson would call upon him personally. This new governor seems different though, yet Mr. Brown had yet to be introduced to him, nor had he been invited to attend the mansion. He truly missed the years of Governor Goldsborough. Talks were on the way of him running for the senate, though senator France was remarkable, he felt Goldsborough would lead Maryland into a better future.

As he stood there reflecting on what others called “trivial political agendas” he heard the side porch door open. There, to his surprise, was Mrs. Fournier. Her dark blonde hair seemed lighter and seemed to glow in the noon day sun. She kept her manor as immaculate as she did herself. She said something, but he was still in his thoughts to really understand what she had mentioned. As suddenly as she appeared, she was gone. Mr. Brown pulled out an exquisite Swiss gold pocket watch, a rather expensive watch he inherited from his grandfather, and fixed his eyes on the emblem before opening it. He had a habit of constantly checking the time, especially with nothing to do. Almost 12:00. Of course no sign of Miss Duopp. He placed his hat back on and ventured inside again, saddened he did not get see her.

[Seraphim Moonshadow]

Gwyn peered at the house through the telescope.

"Villian heading in and why, isn't that Mr Brown? Well, isn't that nice." Gwyn's hawk-like eyes turned slitted. "I have a good mind to slap that heartless DeHeat man. It's time to get even."

Gwyn scaled down the tree as swift as a mountain lion, dropping to the earth on "all fours," stowing away the telescope. Sundash whickered and tossed back her head.

"Sorry, we'll come back here later." Gwyn said as she leapt back on Sundash after untying her skirts. She kicked Sundash and they went speeding towards the house in a rather unlady-like fashion.

[sunny]

Sally Smith fussed over the culinary offerings she had carefully arranged on the round, ornate, elegant serving table in the parlor. She knew Gwynn would be walking in soon, since she had just heard Sundash's hooves come galloping up the drive. Sally always made plenty of food, since people frequently stopped by the manor, invited or otherwise. Mrs. Fournier wasn't in one of her "moods" this afternoon, so Sally's brow was wrinkle free, until she heard that cloddhopper of a stablehand come clomping into the house. She knew why he was here, making an excuse to crash the afternoon tea party, instead of eating with the other "help" like he was supposed to..the "to get a chance to moon over Miss Gwynn" she thought to herself, before she hollered to him, "wipe your feet Edward Jones!" She hissed at him as he started to pass her by, "if you must lurk about and gawk at Miss Gwynn at least try not to break anything while you're here." Soon after that, Miss Gwynn herself walked through the door holding a bundle in her hands. Sally smiled, her plump cheeks rosy, as Gwynn waved the parcel at her from across the room. "Thats my girl, bless you Gwynnie!" The portly cook finished arranging her tea display and then took the crinkled bag of herbs from the young lady and as she started back to the kitchen, she heard someone coming up the steps. See who that is, would you Gwynn dear?! She wondered where that addled Mr. Butler was. He was usually the first one in the parlor after she rang the tea bell. Well, she had enough to worry about, like how she was going to coax the people of Pleasant Manor to polish off her fabulous Bran Muffin Casserole. Tsk...she clucked to herself, now where has that little mouse of a housemaid Raven wandered off to when I need her most!

[Domiducus]

*A tall dark figure appears at the servants enterance to the estate and just as quickly as he appeard at the doorway he is let in by one of the servants, both figures appear to be male. It is around 3am and the wind is blowing very hard from the west. *

[Acez]

"Wipe your feet Edward Jones. If you must lurk about and gawk

at Miss Gwyn at least try not to break anything while you're here",

Sally Smith hissed. Filling up his head with many insults as possible

Edward restrained himself as to not further humiliate himself as his pride

was already decimated. Strolling around the fine tapestry's and antique

Victorian artwork, Edward heard the soft silky voice of Gwyn. "Golly! I

don't have to stay here." Edward said gleefully. "May as well go home if

theres no need for me here." Turning around Edward quietly creeped towards

the Eastern Entrance of the Manor, carefully no to be detected.

Edward heavy footed strolled back up towards the stables. Jumping the

wire and stone fence, Edward made his way towards his run down family

house, to be greeted by no one except his dog Biggles, a Saint Bernard.

Bending on his knees, Edward grabbed Biggles and was thrusted back by the

force of the big running dog."Home Sweet home isn't it Biggles", as Edward

scratched behind Biggles's ears. The house dark, gloomy and moldey was the

product of years of neglect. The house once reminiscent of the Manor he worked

for, was once the epicentre of all Social activities. The shutters rusted shut, the

walls covered in mould and the wooden Oak floors unrecognisable. Edward

entering his bedroom and slumped onto his bed. Shutting his eyes and clearing his

mind he slowly drifted off into a deep sleep.......

[sunny]

Sally Smith minced her portly frame back to the kitchen, with her brow furrowed in concentration. She wondered where that mousey maid had drifted away to. "Raven!" "Miss Danish!" She waited for the dark haired waif to appear, but knew she would most likely have to go hunt her down again. "Well, thats what we get for takin' in an orphan. We can't really send her back off to the orphanage if she's not up to snuff. Mrs. Fournier would not think of such a thing. Yet it's up to me to mold her!" Sally listened for the sound of footsteps, since she knew that the girl would never speak loud enough for her to hear. "I need an ear trumpet to hear her!" "RAVEN!" She sighed and picked up a tray loaded with sparkling clean silverware and fine china.

"Yes Ma'am? Sally barely heard the soft voice coming from the back door of the kitchen. "Sakes child " Sally gently griped at the poorly dressed slip of a girl, who stood shyly in the middle of the doorway, as if any loud sound or harsh movement would send her quickly away to wherever it was she had previously hidden herself. "Here, take this tray to the parlor and put it on table and look smart about it then Miss". Sally used the kindest voice she could muster, trying her best to hide her impatience, lest she set the girl to tears, or worse, flight. Miss Danish ducked her head shyly and gently removed the tray from Sally's hands and slowly, with a humble regalness, marched her thin frame down the hall and toward the parlor. Sally made a mental note to ask Mrs. Fournier for some more suitable clothing for the poor thing. She began brewing another pot of tea since she knew one pot would not be enough. It never was. That addled Mr. Butler could usually be counted on to drink at least 3 cups. In between his carpet sniffing ritual. Sally chuckled to herself as she remembered the first time she found George in the parlour, sniffing and drooling all over the rug. He had looked up at her and smiled a blissful smile and stuck his thumb at her from his crouched position over the floor. "Not a sign of blush or shame", she mused. You've got to admire him for that. He is guileless.

Sally listened for the sound of Sundash's hoofbeats, to signal the arrival of Gwynn. She crossed her fingers that the girl had remembered to bring her the camomile and sassafrass. With Gwynn, you never knew. She was a busy girl, with plenty of suitors, and plenty of dreams, so she sometimes forgot she promised to keep the kitchen supplied with herbs. Well she's a dear girl. Now we just have to make sure she chooses a dear man! As Sally approached the parlor with the second pot of tea, she thought she heard footsteps coming up the walkway.........

[Domiducus]

As I enter the manor my dear friend advises me that we must be silent as we make our way through the great halls. I am amazed to see how the years have been kind to my friend. We pass on the formalities and he begins to lead me down the hall past the servants' restroom and towards the stairs. "Are we going to the library?" I ask. He turned to me and in a hushed voice advised me that it was too dangerous and that we would discuss the nature of my calling in the privicy of his chambers.

As we reached the top of the stairs I searched my inner coat pocket for the cigar I'd half smoked the night before. It was a nasty habbit but I'd grown accustomed to the flavor and it seemed to take the edge off tense situations to be able to sit comfortably and take in the sweet scent. It takes me days to get through a single cigar.

As we rounded the corner I heard a womans voice in the distance. My dear friend signaled to me to become as stone and blend as best I could into my shadowy surroundings. We both held our breath as a woman I assumed was a servant stumbled past us in a drowsy daze, totally unaware that she'd passed by two gentlemen by mear inches. I couldnt make out much of her description due to the darkness but I did catch a glimps of a tuff of white hair. Perhaps a midnight snack was her calling, or a trip to the latrine? As soon as she was out of sight we slipped into the bed chamber of my host to discuss the past the present and where those two things would lead to in the future. I sat in one of the 19th century chairs across from my friend and lit my cigar. "You havent changed a bit" I said to him ..........

[Seraphim Moonshadow]

You're all doing a great job! Please remember this, though: No character controlling, please.

<div class='quotetop'>QUOTE("Wikipedia")</div>

Godmodding is a term common to message board-based role-playing games. Godmodding is almost always frowned upon by other members of the RPG, as it can be severely annoying to everyone.

Godmodding occurs when one character describes an event or a series of events he or she has taken against another character in the RPG, with the person who plays the character acted against then describing actions taken (often stated as happening before the first person's actions) that completely nullifies the actions the person before had taken. Godmodding is basically used like a "get out of jail free" card when things don't go the way a player wants, rather than working with previously unfolded events. It is also used as a single word definition of having an invincible character or unbreakable armor, limitless power, ect.

People who godmod usually do so to attribute vastly superior powers or resources to themselves.

Nobody is doin anythin wrong, but please keep this in mind. Thanks!

[Sugarbay]

Merceds stood there with that smile on her face while she listened to the footsteps ascending the five steps to the wraparound porch. She had opened the door to admit Mr. Brown into the house and watched him meander away in the direction he had chosen, and momentarily wondered why she allowed this circus to continue in her own house. She did have affection for Gwynn and Mr. Brown was indeed a good catch for any girl so encouraging that relationship was something she wouldhave to work on if she could just get that girl to stay our of trees and act like a lady. Poor Mr. Brown was smitten with the girl. Mercedes let her thought dwell on that for a momemt, imagining Gywnn married off to a gentleman of some means

Just as she mentally shook herself to clear her mind, she heard the confident footsteps stop at the door. Before Mr. DeHeart could knock, she swung the door open and smiled her most winning smile, "Good afternoon, Mr. Deheart! How perfectly lovely to see you again. Won't you please come in and have tea with us. Sally is just beginning to serve."

With that she took his arm and said, "Shall we?"

[Seraphim Moonshadow]

Gwyn eased Sundash into a gentle walk, then slipped off the horse and patted her, knowing full well the horse wouldn't actually go anywhere. With a very poignant look towards the front of the manor, she walked through the back door and into the kitchen. Seeing that no one was around she quickly did a few maneuvars and brought the herbs out from her dress and plopped them on one of the kitchen counters. Shaking her head like a dog tossing water, she pinched her cheeks and then boldly walked into where the others were having tea.

"Sally, the herbs are on the counter," Gwyne said as she strode in.

[Domiducus]

From the window of my friend's chamber I just caught a glimps of one Mr DeHeart. Before I could get a good look at the fellow he was shown in and judging by the hour of the day most likley offered tea. How I loath tea. Its just not the same in America. On a trip long ago I'd tasted real tea, tea as it should be in both Great Brittian and China.

After I saw that the coast was clear I slipped onto the roof's over hang and slipped to the stables. My good friend had already taken his leave as he had many responsibilities at this manor. I often find humor in our relationship. He being a man of so many faces, and me, a man without a face.