Lucille does not notice anything odd immediately after waking. The room is okay. Same with the bedding. Same with the pack.. except not. The pack shouldn't be open, and her spare clothing should be packed away, not spread out over the floor.
As she picks it up, it's faintly damp and there's a weak chemical smell. They look okay from the front, but not on their backs. Each piece has been dyed in strange and garish colours, patches of blue and yellow on the backs of each piece. There's no conventional artistic merit to the dying, but there has obviously been some care put into the project, like it's the artwork of a young child.
Lucille then wakes up the rest of the way, and checks her door and window. Both locked, like she left them. There's no hearth in this room and the walls are wood, firm and solid. There's no obvious way for Raucous to have gotten in. But that appears to have happened. The floor also still faintly smells of something, and touching it, it is still a little bit damp. Like it's been cleaned.
Anyway, next she goes to hang up the clothing, going to her pack for string and pins. Pack is already open, and it's not sitting right, being a bit too flat on the floor, not properly structured. The contents seem okay, and she finds string and pins in an open side compartment, but can't close it. The strap to do so is missing.
..All the straps are missing. And the buckles. They're piled up on the desk in the corner of the room. Along with more straps.. far more straps.
Sorting through them first, she figures it out. It's the straps to her backpack.. and all the fasteners for her suit of armour. Next step, the closet. Where her armour is off the stand and sitting on a pile of coal dust, fallen out of a cheap sack, entirely bereft of fasteners. "But why the coal dust?" she wonders, speaking out loud. Still, this isn't that big of a prank. It'll take most of an hour to get the pack and armour sorted again, but she wasn't planning on wearing it today, anyway. It takes too long to bother with when safe in town. That said, it's breakfast time. She strides over to the door, putting her key in the lock, and.. nothing. The lock is jammed and she's stuck in the room.
"Hmm." At this point Lucille's kneels down and looks in the lock, and pulls a bit of material out of it with a pin. Wax. At this point she gets a smile on her face, kneels down again, and summons a small flame to her finger, sticking it into the lock like a key. After minute or two, the wax runs out of the lock, having melted back into liquid. Satisfied, Lucille withdraws her finger, blows the flame out, and sticks her key in the lock again.
Once more, it jams. Lucille isn't smiling anymore, shifting her key up and down and jiggling the lock, hoping everything will fall into place and allow the key to turn. Nothing. It's all good for nothing, and in the end, she has to get let out by the innkeeper, whose key works just fine. She then hands her key over to the innkeeper, who comments that this is the key to the wrong room.
And then, on the way to the ground floor, the soles tear out of her boots after a few hundred steps. The stitches were mostly cut and the fasteners were missing. Those pins were not with the other ones that were from the pack.
The other two are perfectly okay, and report that they saw nothing. Jordan is a bit too amused by all this. "You did tell Raucous to do his worst."
Lucille just grumbles a bit. "If this is all it's something, but hardly worth hiring the bird for. It'll take a couple of hours to fix this, and I can just wear the bad clothing under my armour when nobody will see it."
"That said.. we're going to be treating today like hostile terrain. Watch for anything that's going to happen, more traps, more tricks, etcetera. I don't think that's enough in itself."
After eating, she proceeds upstairs where she pins a thin thread to the wall and door, where it'll get moved or broken if it's opened, and tells the innkeeper that there's a prankster around, so to leave her room alone. This is quickly becoming a matter of honour. She comes back, jaw set, and informs the others. "Today, we need to do our chores. And we're going to have a mission briefing."
Lucille does not notice anything odd immediately after waking. The room is okay. Same with the bedding. Same with the pack.. except not. The pack shouldn't be open, and her spare clothing should be packed away, not spread out over the floor.
As she picks it up, it's faintly damp and there's a weak chemical smell. They look okay from the front, but not on their backs. Each piece has been dyed in strange and garish colours, patches of blue and yellow on the backs of each piece. There's no conventional artistic merit to the dying, but there has obviously been some care put into the project, like it's the artwork of a young child.
Lucille then wakes up the rest of the way, and checks her door and window. Both locked, like she left them. There's no hearth in this room and the walls are wood, firm and solid. There's no obvious way for Raucous to have gotten in. But that appears to have happened. The floor also still faintly smells of something, and touching it, it is still a little bit damp. Like it's been cleaned.
Anyway, next she goes to hang up the clothing, going to her pack for string and pins. Pack is already open, and it's not sitting right, being a bit too flat on the floor, not properly structured. The contents seem okay, and she finds string and pins in an open side compartment, but can't close it. The strap to do so is missing.
..All the straps are missing. And the buckles. They're piled up on the desk in the corner of the room. Along with more straps.. far more straps.
Sorting through them first, she figures it out. It's the straps to her backpack.. and all the fasteners for her suit of armour. Next step, the closet. Where her armour is off the stand and sitting on a pile of coal dust, fallen out of a cheap sack, entirely bereft of fasteners. "But why the coal dust?" she wonders, speaking out loud. Still, this isn't that big of a prank. It'll take most of an hour to get the pack and armour sorted again, but she wasn't planning on wearing it today, anyway. It takes too long to bother with when safe in town. That said, it's breakfast time. She strides over to the door, putting her key in the lock, and.. nothing. The lock is jammed and she's stuck in the room.
"Hmm." At this point Lucille's kneels down and looks in the lock, and pulls a bit of material out of it with a pin. Wax. At this point she gets a smile on her face, kneels down again, and summons a small flame to her finger, sticking it into the lock like a key. After minute or two, the wax runs out of the lock, having melted back into liquid. Satisfied, Lucille withdraws her finger, blows the flame out, and sticks her key in the lock again.
Once more, it jams. Lucille isn't smiling anymore, shifting her key up and down and jiggling the lock, hoping everything will fall into place and allow the key to turn. Nothing. It's all good for nothing, and in the end, she has to get let out by the innkeeper, whose key works just fine. She then hands her key over to the innkeeper, who comments that this is the key to the wrong room.
And then, on the way to the ground floor, the soles tear out of her boots after a few hundred steps. The stitches were mostly cut and the fasteners were missing. Those pins were not with the other ones that were from the pack.
The other two are perfectly okay, and report that they saw nothing. Jordan is a bit too amused by all this. "You did tell Raucous to do his worst."
Lucille just grumbles a bit. "If this is all it's something, but hardly worth hiring the bird for. It'll take a couple of hours to fix this, and I can just wear the bad clothing under my armour when nobody will see it."
"That said.. we're going to be treating today like hostile terrain. Watch for anything that's going to happen, more traps, more tricks, etcetera. I don't think that's enough in itself."
After eating, she proceeds upstairs where she pins a thin thread to the wall and door, where it'll get moved or broken if it's opened, and tells the innkeeper that there's a prankster around, so to leave her room alone. This is quickly becoming a matter of honour. She comes back, jaw set, and informs the others. "Today, we need to do our chores. And we're going to have a mission briefing."
