[center][h3]Max Fuchs[/h3][/center]
[hr]
Max hurled obscenities at the crow perched on his mantle. His silver-tinged sideburns shivered with each curse and he managed to conjur up insults that surprised even him. The bird stared. 

Max calmed himself. He debated. He weighed pros and cons. He decided. 

"Very well Exegesis. You have persuaded me. I recant all of those foul words you forced me to utter-[i]would you stop staring at me like that you cursed bird![/i]" Max flung his teacup at the mantle; white and blue porcelain exploded above the fireplace. Exegesis took flight, screeching in delight. 

"Toadmere Rookery..." mumbled Max. "At seven..." He looked at the Earl Grey dripping down the brick chimney. Maybe a party was just the thing he needed to clear his mind. He tried to recall who Lord Fowle was, where had he made the aquaintence? "I shall stuff you when I return Exegesis," cried Max gathering his cloak and cane. The bird had vacated the room.  

[hr]
In the dim twilight of the Pallhallow night, a man steps into the street. His silver-pommeled cane [i]clicking[/i] and [i]clacking[/i] over the slick cobblestone street, he makes his way through the quiet town and to the gates of Toadmere. 

His attire is simple, but fine. Black cloak over dark grey vest and starched linen shirt. His velvet tophat covers a head of thick black hair, tied back with a red ribbon. On his lapel is a pin of the Magicians Circle-a silver raven and a willow tree. He wears a simple leather coat, with modest cuffs and a slim cut. Contained within are an assortment of wizardly[i] accoutrement[/i] in various hidden pockets and pouches. His cane is actually a sword-cane, the pommel of which is a wild-looking gargoyle. The little beasts is smiling wildly, tongue out in cast silver relief. The blade within the wooden casing is fine Japanese [i]tamahagene[/i] steel, a souvenir he picked up on his travels in the East. 

As Max approaches the gates of Toadmere he is greeted by the caretaker-an androgynous giant in military regalia. With a flick of his wrist that is more habit than flourish he produces the invitation. "I'm afraid I shall have to keep my coat this evening. These old bones are not fit for this rainy English weather." The giant is looking at him strangely. It is then that Max realizes that the evenings event is a masquerade, and he without a mask at the gates.

"Ah," said Max tapping the grimacing gargoyle on the pommel of his cane. "No bother.." Max mutters a word or two under his breath as he begins walking to the large front door of the Manor. His face twists and shimmers, it [i]melts[/i] and is, for a moment, completely gone. Then without pomp Maxs' face has become the spitting image of the Gargoyle, silver and scaly in a churlish grin. It is surprisingly lifelike...

Max enters the ballroom casually, noting the other handful of guests who have already arrived. 
A scrappy fellow with ill-fitting clothes is already laying into the booze. [i]Thief[/i] thinks Max absently. A gorgeous woman in evening attire and wearing a cats mask seemed to be inspecting the curtains..