Locke has set himself up in a room upstairs, his arm still bound up and frowning at an ostentatious set of drawers. This place is more than a little disconcerting for someone of his profession - in a place where you can get anything seemingly just by wishing for it, what fun is there in stealing anything? Someone could just have it back in a little ( Read more... )

*Diar's sitting at the bar in the mansion, sipping a rather large whiskey and looking around with amusion*

Well, who wants a drink? Or good company, I'd suppose. I can offer both.

Typist: Diar got bored. Who wants to drink with him?

A lanky, very handsome young man saunters in, smirking. His eyes glint with an everpresent spark of amusement, and he bows quite gracefully.I am Diarmuid dan Ailell, lately of Brennin. This -- place seems to be infinitely more amusing than my usual haunts, but I suppose being dead would rather put a damper on visiting said haunts. At any rate, I ( Read more... )

A woman appears outside the Mansion. Her long hair is white, but when you get a closer look at her, you see that she is still young, and her face is unlined save for one long vertical crease down her forehead, brought on by her frown. She's gazing down at a large red jewel on her finger, which is glimmering subtly, as if snickering to itself ( Read more... )

*sneaks into the mansion at request of someone who made the following potions but didn't want to be seen and places a tray packed full of small identical bottles of what looks like clear, colourless, pure and refreshing water ( Read more... )