Creep and Creak
18th of February 2007 A.D.
Horace Shaw is as wizards go an unremarkable fellow, athletic well into middle age with just a hint of a pot belly and a lot of strength in his arms, dressing old fashioned, but conventionally so. The most objectionable thing about the man are the greying muttonchops and the oddest the heavy silver chain that you'd guess holds his focus, his version of a blasting rod, from the fact that there's no picture online that shows what's at the end of it. Your own disguise has a cross there, just because it's probably insulting to the warlock on some level. Step two of the plan is getting into the water supply which proves as easy as finding a water fountain, one of those little decorative things that birds like to splash around in, though you do not recognize any of the present bathers. A pity the cold seems to scare them off.
Lost 1 Essence -> Now at 10/18
As you slip your hand into the water, as
you slip into the water a strange smell assaults your senses, it's not unpleasant really like cinnamon and burnt toast. There is something else lingering just under the streets of Sydney, fanning out tendrils of its presence into Botany Bay though it does not seem to have noticed you thankfully.
After about ten minutes working out the right pipe you simply let the water column raise you up and end up in a sprinkler. That won't do, it has to be a body of liquid. Luckily next attempt success a rush of water into a still basin that comes up about to your knees. The room is dark and silent, somewhere underground and filled with the earthy smells of decomposition and yeast. Yours is not the only basin here. There are eight of them arrayed the length of the room, each connected to two pipes, one of which is water.
Good thing I thought to get those night vision goggles when I was in Sanctuary. A flip and a tap to the side and... You almost wish you'd left it dark. Every inch of the walls is covered in reddish-black mold dozens upon dozens of layers thick. Some patches have grown what almost looks to be a fine coat of fur, others stone like scales and still others, the most disturbing flowed in a manner that recalls script of some kind as you walk closer to have a look...a thin and reedy voice floats down from above:
"Master, where did you... What do you
need?" If there was any doubt about the nature of the master of the house that sealed it. The proper kind of wizard don't ask to be called master and they definitely don't cause people to cringe in the mid sentence.
Looking up you see a man all skin and bones who has in place of clothes thorn vines wrapped around his pale limbs and wrapping into wild hair and beard. Only the eyes look alive, a muddy green that glitters like frog-water. There is no sense of affinity there like you feel with vampires, dark spirits and the accursed dead. No matter his present form this is still only a man, which doesn't mean he's not dangerous. Until he'd spoken you hadn't even realized you were being watched.
"Do not question me," you hiss. "Be still!" That does sound like the kind of order an asshole would give and while you do feel a bit guilty at the way the poor man freezes it's the best way you can think of to keep him out of trouble while you deal with his master.
The basement door is thankfully unwarded allowing you to make your way up into a wood paneled hallway that somehow manages to be claustrophobic without being the least objectively cramped. It's probably all the brownish landscapes on the wall. As you open the door into the kitchen you see your doppelganger, the real Shaw chowing down on a plate of eggs and ham and for a moment you think you'd been light enough on your feet.
"Is that you Cyril? What are you doing upstairs...?" When you don't answer his back tenses and he grabs at the silver chain.
Surprise is yours, but only for a moment.
What do you do?
[] Knock him out with the pummel of your sword
[] Best not to risk touching a poisoner, Mind Hand Manipulation to knock him out against the table
[] Write in
OOC: Good thought disguising yourselves as him, that negated losing the stealth roll off to Cyril. 
