A dragonkin dressed in black leather and a dark red cape comes in with her tail wrapped in a bloody cloth. She limps over to the assistant and speaks softly to her before sitting down, away from the party and facing the door.
The more streetwise of the party, or any who have been chatting with the locals in the last day, might recall that a dragonkin rogue is being hunted for a daring theft of a diamond necklace belonging to Countess Richlorf. They might even recall that there were reports that the guard dogs managed to bite the dragonkin before they made their escape.
An orc mother comes in carrying her young child. She looks nervously at the party before the assistant helps her to a seat and talks with her quietly. She seems to relax a little but continues to discretely keep watch on the party. Her child is happy enough but appears to have little energy and her nose keeps running.
A well-dressed man, heavily perfumed with a sword hanging from his waist, strides into the room, pauses, looks around the gathered individuals and sniffs disapprovingly. He formally introduces himself to the assistant and appears put out when his name has no effect on her. He is further unhappy that he is being asked to sit and wait.
His name, as he announced it was “Sir Reginald de Parvilon III, here on a private matter. I expect the healer will see me now.”
Those well connected in the upper social circles might recall him as having a reputation for being an inbred bully who has little time for the ‘little people’ as he often refers to the commoners. He inherited his wealth, hasn’t worked a day in his life but has an uncanny skill with a blade. He has no qualms in being rude as he is quite happy to challenge anyone to a duel to settle disagreements. He’s won the last 19 in a row.
(Yes, he’s an unpleasant rich toff and deserves a good kicking!)
A ghostly apparition of a woman phases through the door before slowly drifting over to the attendant. The edges of the ghost appear to be slowly fading in and out of existence and a faint haze of steam is coming off the ghost’s body. The attendant looks worried and motions for the ghost to go through to the inner door without delay.
If you were running more than one of these moments in the same encounter then Sir Reginald (see above) will leap indignantly to his feet and loudly demand that what he just witnessed was a disgrace, he’ll be damned if he’s waiting behind an abomination like that and he is going to see the healer immediately.
This outburst frightens the orcish child who starts to cry. The mother looks angrily at
him but focuses on calming her child.
The party may, or may not, intervene at that point but you might like to know that the inner door is magically sealed, and he won’t be able to open it anyway – neither can the assistant. It only opens by the healer’s touch. He will be suitably angry and embarrassed by his inability to open the door and will likely rant about ‘Kings and Queens open their doors to me’.
The door opens slowly and a large, two-headed hound trots into the room on a long lead. Behind him, holding the lead, is a medusa wearing a bloody bandage tightly wound around her head and covering her eyes. The attendant pets the dog’s heads and greats the medusa. The dog leads her over to a space where the medusa coils up and sits on her tail.
Unless the party are completely new intown they will know these two as Seus (the hound) and Vasiliki (medusa). She has royal privileges in the city and cannot be harmed. The penalty being death. Of course, if they are new in town, they wouldn’t know that which could be tricky…
The door opens with a whiff of brimstone and in stomps a horned devil. He has a linen bag pressed to his forehead and is squinting painfully. The attendant looks at him and shakes their head ruefully motioning to the last free chair in the room. He thuds over to it and it creaks loudly under his weight. He tries to glare menacingly at the party but it’s half-hearted and he slumps back in the chair eyes closed.
Even demons get migraine hangovers and this one has been exacerbated by a summoning ritual that was poorly performed prior to a long and wild night of debauchery and drink. This particular devil, Braknikor Vatolica, lets himself be summoned as he has a taste for human wine but has no self-control and regularly overdoes it. He’s a regular at the healers for a hangover cure.
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Manipulation: The Grinning Frog team