Zhevon wandered the halls of the mansion rather aimlessly, endless hallways of paintings, locked doors leading to who knows where, the occasional table. It was all mostly unremarkable, which was a disappointment to the undercover Inquisitor, he had hoped to stumble on some sort of museum of Chaos artifacts, or something similar. Usually his aimless wandering had him stumble on a [i]something[/i], but this time he appeared to have no luck in the matter. Now convinced he was lost, he looked at a painting to make himself seem like he was busy, when in actuality he was trying to remember the steps he took to get to that point in the mansion. 

Then he heard a pair of heavy boots closing in where he was standing. He muttered a curse and held his ground.
[b]"Sir?"[/b]
Zhevon slowly turned to look at the voice, it was two guards. Well armored, and wielding lasguns. Likely low-ranking soldiers patrolling the halls. [b]"Guards."[/b] Zhevon acknowledged, he turned back to the painting.
[b]"Uh... Sir, the dinner is that way."[/b]
[b]"I know. I'm not particularly hungry, and this painting is just... Captivating."[/b]
[b]"Excuse me?"[/b] One of the Guards asked, more curious than anything. The other looked at his partner, then at the painting.
By now Zhevon was actually examining the painting rather than just blankly staring at it. He saw a burning village in the background, a bay full of sunken ships, and in front, hills covered in dead yellow grass. Piles of cattle skeletons and dead cattle laid strewn on the hills. He spotted animated skeletons scattered across the landscape. A large group of them swarming a small church of a long dead religion, others pulling out caskets from the ground, the dead rising from the earth. In the bottom corner, a small number of skeletons beating war drums, and hoisting an obelisk with a column of armed skeletons marching from the mouth of a dark cave nearby. Just above it, the boney undead were executing the living, by sword, hanging, burning at the stake. To the left, pitched battle between peasants, hopelessly armed with pitchforks and staves against a second column of skeletons, all armed with spears. The peasants were losing. Upon closer inspection he noticed that the painting was flowing, as if it were a real event captured in a painting. 
[b]"This painting shows the futility of fighting death..."[/b] Zhevon began. He spoke for an impressive length of time, mostly making all of this up right on the spot, but the Guards seemed to understand it well enough.