RuneScape Forum Archive | ¥ Lord Robert Callobridge ¥

Yrolg

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Struggling to rid herself of my grasp, the woman pleaded with me in a pitiful way most definitely honed over a decade of service to her employer: "Please, Sir, let us discuss this as we leave the grounds. The fact that we have lingered this long is dangerous enough. Let us walk and talk simultaneously." Again struggling against my still present hand on her shoulder, she attempted to resume the evacuation of what she deemed an incredibly dangerous area. Maintaining this presence, I halted her movement and physically placed my body -- then yet as rotund as ever -- as a barrier against her further progression. As she attempted to avert my blockade by a movement to the right, I against appointed myself in front of her, and, as she maintained her attempts at passing my corpulent obstruction, I began again a request of her adherence to my wishes. "No, my 'fair' woman, i will not be able to continue this method of discourse whilst walking. Your distress at the presence of this illness already incapacities your limited wits, and I must recognize that the addition of a noter article to detract from your already depleted store would make any advancement on the diagnosis of the disease impossible. No, we shall instead stand here and begin the task of diagnosing the illness that has you so terribly worked up. Now, let us begin the business as acquainted parties: I am Lord Robert Callobridge, and my purpose in being here today was, as formerly as an hour past, and will be, at the resolution of this ordeal, to offer a professional review and critique of this estate's decoration with regards to the cemetery, services center, and other funereal aspects. What is your name, what is your duty, and why are you here? Though we must be quick, I have no doubt that there is time left for civility." When her response was not forthcoming, I added most casually, "Do speak up."

22-Aug-2010 21:16:44 - Last edited on 22-Aug-2010 22:20:46 by Yrolg

Yrolg

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The woman stopped her sidestepping and gave me the first decent look yet. Addressing me with a mien yet foreign to her, she said, "My name is Marie Ariel Gusteau du L'Morfique." Her entire countenance changed at this proclamation: what was formerly a downcast demeanor was now the resplendent gaze; what was hideous form was now the definition of beauty; what was impropriety was now the epitome of social grace: in the span of the few short seconds these words took to utter, the entire physiognomy of the body before me underwent such a change, it was as if she invoked metamorpohsis. In fact, so much was she fulfilling the drastic requisitions of the caterpillar's transformation that I found myself almost expecting a pair of wings to emerge and complete it. As I noticed this, she continued on which some statements that fairly collapsed my already mesmerized mind; she provided epithets of such total opposition to the demeanor she'd borne since our first encounter that I could barely contain the remarks I wished to make. "And I am the heiress to the Champeaux estate, Lord Callobridge. Now, if it pleases the esteemed visitor," she continued in a slow, proper, and coherent voice that betrayed by most vivid juxtaposition the extent of monstrosity that I had been forced to but thirty seconds prior translate, "I should like to, with all appropriate consideration for the extenuating circumstances here present, respectfully delay any further discourse and pleasantries until such a time as we may both be safe and secure in our absence from such a disease as currently trespasses these grounds." Having said this, she stopped speaking for a moment, and released the putrid ribbons that held the plaits in her auburn hair.

22-Aug-2010 21:16:46 - Last edited on 22-Aug-2010 22:21:21 by Yrolg

Yrolg

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Interpreting this cessation of speech as the conclusion of her explication, I drew my hand from her shoulder and took the air to again ask of her the symptoms. Once again displaying the very qualities that I had fifteen minutes prior pled with Heaven to be presented with, she forestalled any notion of further queries with an answer to be viewed as nothing but magnificent: "And before you resume that dreadful line of questioning, dear sir, I will inform you of the fact that I have been intimating for the better part of the past hour: I am utterly terrified of this disease, as its onset is so inconspicuous and yet so terminally unpreventable. Its symptoms are difficult to relate because they are so hidden from observation: the very fact that anything at all is ailing the afflicted is unnoticeable until the disease has progressed so that treatment is futile. Because you so vociferously insist, however, I shall attempt to describe those effects which were noticeable -- treatable or not. First, the person who comes into contact with the disease is perfectly comfortable until at least seven hours after the primary encounter: we know this because dear Madame Le Kinffe was occupied entirely in the drawing room when she stayed here at the virus's onset and did not begin to report the first symptom -- on which I will shortly elaborate -- until she first vacated that room seven hours after arriving. What she reported were the all too common symptoms of universal ailments, and, thus, we were not overly concerned: slight nausea, dizziness, and an inability to focus or think properly (an effect she endearingly labeled as being cloudy-headed). These mild manifestations soon grew, however, to the fiendishly potent affectations:

22-Aug-2010 21:16:58 - Last edited on 22-Aug-2010 22:22:16 by Yrolg

Yrolg

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in the matter of a few moments from her description of the primary symptoms, they developed to such a severity that the woman could hardly stand for her dizziness; she could hardly speak for the discomfort arising from her nausea, and, yet worse, those few utterances she could manage to provide between moans of agony were so coded in inebriation that I could scarcely understand her. The poor being went from French to English to German to languages that even a linguist could struggle to identify. This change occurred in but forty-five short minutes; a further change to her incapacitation occurred but five after that. Total exanimation of the first victim occurred prior to the idea of a third of a day: she was dead before eight hours had elapsed. I will save you from further accounts of the disease's progression, but I do wish you to know that dozens yet have felt the cold hand of death upon their shoulder as the viral emissary has progressed. Now, having sufficiently answered your questions, I propound that we set about our way: already I see your driver preparing the coach for an arrival that, at the pace you propose, shall not come. Mr Callobridge, I shall not take a negative response: beside you or not, I will exit this cursed estate."

22-Aug-2010 21:35:56 - Last edited on 22-Aug-2010 22:22:25 by Yrolg

Yrolg

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She finished her last sentence with a step towards the waiting vehicle, but maintained her focus on my potential response, for throughout her relay and change, she and I had come to face each other at an angle, and an observer would have seen a man stopped at the side of a road, permitting a beautiful, yet homely, woman to pass. This entire alteration to the configuration had occurred without my slightest consent nor knowledge -- for I was far too absorbed in the alteration which had occurred to her configuration -- and thus, I was a bit handicapped in my response time: by the time that I'd realized her intention and had raised my arm to stop her, she had already begun on a race to the nearby garden wall, and by the time I was able to realize that my only hope of information lay sprinting from me, she had already surmounted its peak and was along in her bid for freedom. yet having the mind and voice to yell but one more thing after her -- and deeming any imperative (especially those insinuating her return) would be the utter misuse of the opportunity -- I called to her escaping shadow, "Is it safe to enter the house?", not being able to collect from my previously spoiled stock of optimism an amount of hope in any way measurable to which I might cling in expecting a reply.

22-Aug-2010 21:35:57 - Last edited on 22-Aug-2010 22:22:36 by Yrolg

Yrolg

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To my utter and total disbelief -- a word which, in hindsight, seems more than in just one way appropriate -- Madame Gusteau did qualify my question appropriate for response. This is the entirely unexpected response I had elicited, offered in a voice that seemed such a hybrid of the harsh, unintelligible babble of which I had shared a first encounter and the flowing majesty which was the voice of the Champeaux heiress that I was taken aback by its singularity: "NO! Entrance to that house is nothing relative to safe: its threshold is that of hell. Indeed, pull its doorbell and you shall hear the timeless screams of those eternally wrapped in its anguish. Lord Callobridge, you must not enter that house under any circumstances! for if you enter, God himself knows that you shall not leave, as he alone can read the plaque beside the entryway, the last warning for the ignorant or thoughtless adventurer: 'Abandon all hope, ye who enter here, for this is the house of another, and he whomsoever braves its threshold shall for eternity be imprisoned. Abandon all hope, for even I cannot help those there. Beware visitor, for you knock on the entrance to Hell.' That house is the establishment of malevolence, and you cannot, whatever you do, go there. Mr Callobridge, you should go to your driver and leave this infernal ground at once! I bid you adieu with an example that I implore you to follow." And with these departing words, she resumed her abscondment, running at a speed of which my horses would be jealous.

22-Aug-2010 21:35:58 - Last edited on 22-Aug-2010 22:22:58 by Yrolg

Yrolg

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Left with this bare sketch of the disease and such a dreadful (and morbidly exaggerative warning), I stood for a few moments yet, pondering the unusual events which had transpired on what ought to have been a regular, common day. This pontification turned to true analysis, and a few moments turned into a few hours. The neatly formatted papers which I had stowed away were once again drawn out, and my soon wielded fountain pens began to drop on the pages an almost vivisection of the situation as I then understood it. Dear reader, let me be clear that I had no inkling of knowledge that the great droves of information that directed me to my eventual conclusion were utterly, entirely, and without exception false, and, by this quality, useless. I do hope that even despite my unrestrained idiocy in becoming involved with the pathogenic affair, there remains sufficient regard for my integrity that there is absolutely no doubt that my ignorance to the truth was as full and responsible as my driver's to the idea of propriety. And because of this, I allowed myself, at the conclusion of my analysis of all the details I've so far penned in this memoir, to reach the decision that the best course of action would be for a first-hand investigation of the house, and a later diagnosis after I had collected sufficient evidence.

22-Aug-2010 21:35:59 - Last edited on 22-Aug-2010 22:23:10 by Yrolg

Yrolg

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Ordaining this path to be the most logical one -- both because the disease seemed similar to one of which I'd read a great deal called, among other sophistications, "corn pox" throughout the general population, and I therefore had sufficient information to safely mitigate the possibility of my infection, as well as because of the simple dubitability of the entire disease's story. Madame Gusteau insinuated a visiter being afflicted at times when it seemed almost impossible: I had developed an unmeasured system of communication with Madame Champeaux six months previous to what Madame Gusteau intended to be the initial onset of the disease, and while this communique did not consistently demonstrate the finer qualities of friendship, it did consistently and unfalteringly demonstrate the brutish honest of great regard for veritas, and, knowing that there was a mutual respect for rectitude among us, we both would offer no hesitation in the transmittance of any embarrassing act -- especially one so uncontrollable as the epidemic of a disease within the estate.

22-Aug-2010 21:36:09 - Last edited on 22-Aug-2010 22:23:22 by Yrolg

Yrolg

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Indeed, instead of detailing any sense of ratiocinable danger, MAdame Champeaux constantly communicated a sense of geniality and felicity: er messages were always filled with such emotions of jubilation that they were even felicific to the reader. The rapport we had developed would not likely be broken by such an outbreak of illness, and, though In constantly wondered about the centinarian's health, she always sent with her messages a picture of the most enviable fitness. Thus I speak of the unlikelihood not only out of regard for what some term the venerable woman of L'Morfique, but also from the thought that even if my trust were to be misplaced in Madame Champeaux -- which, given her proximity to her husband, is not likely -- it would be incredibly doubtful that she could fool a man who had made his living and reputation on his ability to discern indiscretions of fact and flaws in otherwise perfect acts. It would be far more likely that Madame Gusteau, worked into such a frenzy as to permit such ignominious appearances, over-exaggerated the situation, and the application of but a few realistic and logical ideas would reveal it as nothing more than the workings of an overstimulated mind. Having reached my conclusion and justifying it in this manner, I began the journey to once again entreat entrance to the Champeaux House, stowing once again my pad of paper in my bad, and rummaging to do the same with my fountain pens before I felt it necessary to reconsider, thinking that I might begin my observations of the house and ideas with the permanent and inalterable media for more accurate referral once I had gathered enough to make a decision on the disease's character. Armed as such -- with a pen as my sword and and paper as my shield -- I assailed the house.

22-Aug-2010 21:36:10 - Last edited on 22-Aug-2010 22:23:32 by Yrolg

Yrolg

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I have to here labeled the building as a house, but this does not begin to appropriate describe the place: the building of the Champeaux estate was a palace. The mansions of England and America pale in comparison to this massive baroque masterpiece. The twilight which proceeded at my back only further magnified the immense beauty of the enormous establishment. Having never before, despite my constant communications, been to L'Morfique, I could never understand why the city of Cannes was forgotten in remembrance of Champeaux Palace. With such golden light showcasing the faded -- yet still beautiful -- roof in a rainbow of verdant hues, and the dozens of powerful and meticulously placed lanterns hung about the gigantic entrance, I was left to, even if only for a moment, stand in sheer saturnine awe as I beheld the immensely beauteous palace. This lasted for only a moment, however, as I soon found my mind wandering to other dissections, and, through time, found myself marveling at the intricate designs which adorned the façade and the pulchritude which defined the building as a whole. When the massive clock housed above the center doors rang out at eight o'clock, its bells' resounding breaking my almost phantasmagoric state, I looked about, and, realizing that I had not yet ascended the massive set of tepees which led to the reception garden, I moved to climb, working laboriously to hoist my tired and aging frame to the top.

22-Aug-2010 21:36:11 - Last edited on 22-Aug-2010 22:24:16 by Yrolg

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¥ Lord Robert Callobridge ¥