Not but a moment after Edgar entered the Manor, an odd incident occurred at the top of the main staircase.

What must have been another party-guest, wearing a neat Tuxedo and a golden lion mask, was standing by the upper-right banister, standing perfectly still and looking down at the crowd. Out of the blue, his head jerked down, smashing directly into the top of the banister with an audible [i]cracking[/i] noise that was heard throughout the entire foyer. He then tilted to the side and began falling down the stairs, his arms twisting and bending unnaturally as his shoulders smashed into the staircase, his legs upending over his head as he tumbled down back-first. He careened to the side, slamming into the side-railing and then again down the center. Just when it seemed he was going to fall to the floor at the base of the staircase, his legs seemed stiffen and eerily pull upright just as the man rebounded off the lowermost step, and then he neatly stepped out of his previously uncontrolled fall directly onto the foyer floor as if nothing had happened.

Most of the onlookers either began to clap or laugh in excitement - whether or not he was an entertainer or just incredibly lucky, it had been something of a curious sight for all of them. The man in the lion mask stood stock-still, and then began to sway from side to side, his body tilting and bending in any and every direction while his legs remained utterly rigid, like a drunken man who had his feet glued to the ground.

The party guests, by then, had begun to ignore him and return to their conversations. Not so much as one of them considered checking the man or calling for medical assistance. He continued to shiver and quake in place, completely unaware of his surroundings.

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Corbel did not deign to arrive through the front door, and nor did he bother to wear a mask. The limited rind of pulp he wore over a frame of bone was already disguise enough, and he had no intention of needlessly cavorting with those within the manor itself.

Having climbed over the stone wall that surrounded the estate, he had walked briskly through the gardens - making little effort to hide his presence - and made his way inside through the garden patio connecting to the rear ballroom. The clothes he wore, at least, were not entirely out of place - red silk and velvet, in an anachronistically displaced style. Most of the guests didn't give him a second look. He began scanning the room, watching for the recipient of his first message.