[h3]Jaelnec, Freagon, Irah, Lhirin, Nabi, Yanin, Jordan and Madara, outside Bor Manor, Borstown[/h3]
Down the road about 150 meters to the southwest of the Fadewatcher station, almost immediately across the street from the Borstown winery, stood the manor house of the barony, the home of Baroness Vela Bor and, according to some stories, the very place where the Nemhimian Prooga had been felled 89 years ago.
The very plot of land the manor was built on stood out in stark contrast to its surroundings, as it was the only soil in the area that did not show any signs of crops being grown there or animals grazing. Surrounded by a 220 cm tall wrought iron fence – plain to look at despite the expensive material, but heavy and durable – the plot appeared to be one big lawn or garden. The width of the property took up some 86 meters of the street and went some 62 meters deep, most of which seemed to be occupied by nothing but grass and weeds that ranged in height from knee- to waist-level. Only at the front of the property, the part facing the street, was the grass cut short and suggested a half-hearted attempt at some level of ornamental presentation, with a nicely pruned drakehorn tree bursting with ripe fruits to the right of the building and what appeared to be a cluster of rose-bushes growing right up against the fence with blooms ranging from deep red to bright pink. Though the front garden to the left of the building was mostly just grass, a keen observer might have noticed a fairy ring of white orb-like mushrooms on the lawn at about eight meters in diameter. Irah in particular would be quite likely to recognize it as a ring of horse mushrooms, which were edible and generally regarded as tasty, but sadly not particularly useful in alchemy.
At the very front of the property was a 12 meter deep and 10 meters wide protrusion from the main plot, where the fence took a 90 degree turn toward the street until it was right by it to then turn again and encircle the area. In the middle of the protrusion facing the fence was broken up by a six meters wide double gate of white-painted wood, which were currently opened inward, toward the manor. The gate lead to a broad path cobbled with some kind of flat, circular white stones that lead straight to the front door of the structure itself, on either side of which, directly against the wall itself, were two neat and strikingly beautiful and well-tended flower gardens, the plants in which looked far healthier and more vibrant than anything else on the property and which exploded into a multitude of blossoms in all manner of shapes and colors.
The building itself took up less than half of the plot it was built on, as though it was 70 meters wide it was only about 20 meters deep, with an eight meters long and six meters wide protrusion at the front that seemed to mimic that of the fence and meet the path from the gate with. While this protrusion was only one story tall, most of the main building stood two stories tall.
The architecture was a curious mix of traditional Rodorian and penin design, with very sharp, straight angles everywhere and a generally rather boxy shape and thick, sturdy brick and mortar walls that were left plain, but with exterior detailing in dark wood on the corners and over otherwise bare diagonals that made the surfaces more interesting. The south-side of the manor – the one facng the street and thus the one visible to everyone – also had seven square two meter cross-windows, with four on the ground floor – two on the wall to the left of the entrance and another two at the center, with one window on either side of the protruding entrance – and three on the second floor, again with two on the left, slightly offset from the pair almost directly below them, and one that sat directly above the entrance. All parts of the structure had gable roof with ceramic tiles that looked like they had once been clay-colored, but were stained with growths of dark-green moss and light-green algae.
There was no movement to be seen inside the windows, however; the entire structure was built on a tall foundation, so most of what one could see through them from outside was the ceiling.

Directly inside the gate and to the left were two four meter tall wooden post connected with a metal bar between them at the very top, from which hung the large brass alarm bell that was just now starting to slow its undulating movements and utter its final hesitant tolls before falling silent once more. The bell had been operated with the help of a rope hanging from it, which was currently being held by a muscular human man in a suit of brown brigandine armor, a shortsword at his hip and a crossbow leaned against the bell-post. He looked like he might be in his mid-thirties, clean-shaven and with short brown hair, intense eyes and looking notably unsettled. This fellow, one might notice, seemed to be leaning left, sparing his right leg and had a fresh-looking cut across his left cheek.
A couple of meters from the post and up the path toward the house was a whole little cluster of people. Two of them were humans: a well-groomed gentleman in nice, clean but otherwise unremarkable clothes with a thin mustache and short salt-and-pepper hair that looked like he might be in his late thirties; and a somewhat rotund woman that was also dressed cleanly and nicely, though she wore a mildly stained apron over her dress, with strawberry blonde in a tight braid that reached halfway down her back, who also looked to be in her late thirties.
The last person standing in front of the manor, being fussed over incessantly by the two human servants, was very noticeably [I]not[/I] human. Less than a meter tall with a slim and athletic build, this elderly penin woman was dressed in a pair of tight-fitting linen trousers on her short, thin legs, a pair of nice buckled shoes and a black vest over a light-gray blouse. Her exoskeleton had a pale yellowish color and looked slightly uneven here and there, and her large, round eyes were strikingly neon-green in color. She also had a shortsword at her hip, albeit one that looked much more ornamental than that of the bell-ringer, and she was leaning her elbow in the stock of a remarkably well-crafted crossbow with the bow itself obviously being made from metal and some kind of winching mechanism for resetting the bowstring to the lock. The crossbow was nearly as long as the penin was tall.

Outside the gate all the would-be adventurers found themselves gathering in place of the incapacitated Fadewatchers. Jaelnec and Freagon both halted their horses and were just beginning to dismount when Yanin demanded that they identify themselves, only for Lhirin to immediately declare them as allies.
Planting both of his metal-clad feet heavily on the dirt road as he disembarked Xilos, Freagon turned to Yanin with his scarred and expressionless face as inscrutable as always aside from a slight momentary narrowing of his single eye. Beside him, just a couple of meters away, Jaelnec swung himself nimbly from Sabicia, reflexively holding on to his hat, while looking nervously from Freagon to Yanin.
Not that anyone could ever be entirely certain where, exactly, a nightwalker was looking; their uniform black eyes meant that the direction they were facing was the only indication one had of such. Even so there could be little doubt than Freagon's intense attention was solely on Yanin.
There was a slight, ambiguous twitch in the right corner of his mouth as he inhaled one last time through his cigarette before spitting it out into the street.
“Freagon, of the Knights of the Will,” he grumbled while reaching for the gauntlets and helmet he had hanging off the side of his horse's saddle. “The boy is my page. We're here to help.”

Over by the gate, Lhirin was addressing the armored bell-ringer with almost the exact same assurance as Freagon had had.
“Inside,” the man replied, moving toward the ascended deigan with an obvious limp. “Piece of shit guest doing some crazy magic, and –”
“Get off me! I told ye, I'm [abbr=Penin for “dented” or “damaged”. Also a mild expletive][I]bûhlen[/I][/abbr] fine!” the penin woman suddenly exclaimed, shrugging off her human servants, slunging her crossbow over her shoulder and striding as quickly toward the gate as her little penin legs allowed. Despite her age she seemed quite fit and healthy as she let her sharp, discerning gaze sweep over the highly unusual, motley crowd that had gathered outside her home.
Her servants started to follow, only to change their minds when their mistress shot them a quick glance, a soft smile and gently shook her head no.
Then the penin turned her attention back to Lhirin, who was the one that had spoken up first, and spoke quickly and clearly: “I still have guests inside. There are wraiths on the loose, don't know how many. 50 rodlin to each of ye if ye help.”