Ana smiles and kisses Red on the cheek. "Yes dear, but I'm not trying to get into anyone's pants. Or skirts. Or..." she cocks an eyebrow at Martin. "Fur."

Martin smirks. "You say that now..."

After obtaining snacks at the roadside layby (Ozzy's definition of "snack" being somewhat larger than normal having lead to some consternation), it's now off further down the road towards the Descoteaux plantation.

Now, far be it from anyone to doubt Red's sense of direction, but the look of things on the road as you all walk along doesn't exactly lend confidence that there's anything of worth down this particular road. The trees grow denser in the swamp on either side of the road, and the climbing vines climb higher and start to encroach upon the road itself. The pleasant call of birds in the trees and bushes is slowly replaced by the sound of crows, then...what sounds like crows being drowned in a vat of tar, and then nothing at all. After fifteen minutes of walking, all that's audible is just the wind in the trees, a whispering rustling sound that sits just at the edge of your hearing, sounding like distant voices, or a stalking predator, or something beyond description creeping along the treetops.

To be quite honest, it's creepy as all fucking get out.

Q flutters a few feet above your heads as a lookout, sword drawn, and while he looks downright twitchy, flitting about from side to side after one sound after another, he never calls out an alarm - nor does he get snatched out of the air by some beastie looking for a light snack. After a few more minutes of this, you reach what passes for the border of the Descoteaux property - a collection of signs reading things like "DESCOTEAUX SUCKS" and "MY NAME IS JIMMY AND I AIN'T AFRAID OF NOTHING", obviously left behind by local teenagers on dares to get as close to the Descoteaux farm as they could stand. And where they dared was pretty close: the road curves around up ahead, and through the trees you can peek through, the white structure of the main manor house looms off in the distance. The irrigation channels should be just on the other side of those trees - not exactly high and dry, but also preferable to some of the other slogs you've been through recently.

The sight of the manor house coupled with the eerie quietness of the forest around it has the hair on the back of Martin's neck stand up - and he can feel that his body is trying to slip out of the polite fiction that it is still human. He hunkers down, closes his eyes and draws a deep breath through his nose.

"I think this has served its purpose," he says. "I'll be more use in my...other shape from here on. Objections?"

"Do it," Ozzy nods.

Lightning flashes through a pitch black sky with the deep rumble of thunder - somewhere. Not actually anywhere near the Descoteaux estate. But, you know, details.

Martin's hands dig into the soil as he braces his body; his feet kick off their sandals and steady against a rock behind him. With a short, muffled cry, he starts shaking his back, every muscle in his body stiffening as it prepares - and then he relaxes, and everything seems to shift at once, fur shooting out of his skin as claws extend and his tail twitches to life beneath his robes. He pushes off the ground, shrugging out of his robes as his reshaped body aligns itself, head stretched skyward and eyes squeezed closed - and then he almost roars, just barely managing to clamp down his throat and muffle it. His hand reaches for a nearby tree, leaving a few claw marks as he pulls himself fully upright. Then, the savagery of the transformation seems to make place for Martin again, and he stills himself, taking a deep breath and another to calm himself.

His eyes open slowly as he lets go of the last tension in his back. "I'm ready," he snarls.

"Shouldn't be much of a problem to find them now that they're laughing their asses off," Q quips as he flitters in between gaps in the trees, trying to get a better look.

"I hope you never suffer the indignity of saying something funny, Q," Martin retorts. He turns to Red. "So, where is this canal that will ruin all our clothes again?"

"See, I've just been pissing myself as I walk. That way I reckon the canal'll be cleaner," Ozzy jokes.

"That explains the smell then. Bloody genius you are." Ana's tone is flat, though she cracks a smile at Ozzy.

"Canal's this way," Red says, pointing. "And, Ozzy? I'd appreciate it if you'd just stay downwind, thanks."

"You say that every day, Red," Ozzy quips back. As he walked on, he began thinking that maybe Martin had the right idea - go into all this slop naked. It'd save him from having to find new robes every time they went gallivantin' about savin' the world.

Anton snorts, and pulls the Kneecapper from his belt. It's partly readiness, and at least partly because if the rest of him is going to get messy, at least he can keep his mace above it for a while longer.

But there is no time to debate the merits regarding nudity in stealth and combat situations and the role that relative levels of grime play in that decision (not to mention that one of the High Wizards wrote an excellent monograph on that very topic 533 years previously after an extended debate with an agent that was a particularly ardent nudist) - there's a mansion to be sneaking up on. Rather than stupidly marching up the main road, Red leads the group through the trees and shrubs that line the road.

(Stealth: Roll 1: 1d6: 1d6(1); 4d8: 4d8(1,6,7,; 2d10: 2d10(2,10)]

Obviously, the Descoteaux don't intend people to get onto their property this way - the shrubs are taller than even Ozzy, and many of them have some rather uncomfortable thorns and brambles. The whole mess is dense enough that it's hard enough to see where you're going, let alone remain quiet, but most of the party manages it through simply moving cautiously and with intent.

Moving cautiously has never been Ozzy's strong suit, however, and the big man struggles to get through the bushes. Things only get worse when he takes one false step, and feels something cold and scaly start ascending his leg. "Oh shit!" Ozzy shouts, and practically jumps straight up out of the bushes to get away from the whatever-it-is - the snake. He kicks frantically to get it off of his leg, which leads to him catching his heel on an exposed root, which leads to him falling down and rolling ass-over-teakettle out of the bushes. Anata feels something thick, fleshy and rope-like slap against her back - it's Ozzy's snake friend, and then she starts flailing about to get it off, which leads to exactly the same result as Ozzy, the accomplished dualist falling flat on her back next to Ozzy.

There's a lot of things that accompany Ozzy and Anata's less than graceful exit from the brambles: a great noise of crows ascending from the husks of the plantation's fields, swearing of all sorts, and a deep sense of dread. However, what's more notable is what doesn't happen next: there's no shouts about intruders - in fact, no response of any kind from deeper towards the plantation house, and no splash of muck. The supposed irrigation ditch is there, but it's completely dry, with nothing but loose soil and a few rocks at the bottom (one of which Anata landed on).

As the rest of the group emerges from the bushes somewhat more gracefully and Anata and Ozzy pick themselves up off the ground, it's clear that there's a lot more than just the irrigation channel that's not as expected. The sizable fields of the Descoteaux plantation stretch out ahead - at least, what's left of them. The desiccated remains of vines and plants hang from their supports, while closer in groves of dead trees shade the front of the plantation from view - and that's about all shade the empty and twisted boughs can provide. It looks like one step beyond simply leaving the fields fallow - the whole plantation looks like it's had the life sucked clean out of it.

Red offers a hand to Ana to help her up.

"Well, it...doesn't look like anyone's home," he addresses the group at large. "But let's just assume they're here and move forward quietly anyway."

"Right behind you, Red," Martin says.

"If they don't know we're comin' after that, they deserve what's comin' to 'em," Ozzy grumbles, following Martin and Red.

Ana accepts Red's hand, getting up out of the muck mostly intact, save for her pride and whatever delusions she had about remaining dry for a few more minutes.

"And if they're not?"

"If they're not here, then this whole thing is just creepier and freakier than we thought before," Anton says, picking at brambles stuck to his tunic. "And that'd be pretty typical, so I guess from there we just stick our noses into places until we run into something dripping goo on the floors or find out where they went."

And forge ahead you do. The dried vines and shriveled crops rustle and crack as you move through the rows, their extreme state of desiccation showcasing exactly how long the Descoteaux plantation has been a dry island in the middle of the swamp. Martin and Lucius both realize how odd that is - even without water, these plants should have molded and decayed in the moist swamp air. Above your heads, Q flits around in a zig-zag pattern, keeping a look down adjacent rows to stave off any unfortunate invisible stabbings through the dense rows of former crops.

Going through the orchards is a bit easier, if considerably creepier - something about twisted dry branches arching overhead, hanging from dead and gnarled trees puts one on edge. Finally, you reach the edge of the plantation house grounds proper. Just beyond a driftwood fence lies a brown and dead lawn, and the Descoteaux house itself: closed up, dusty, and without a single sound from within.

Lucius closes his eyes and listens for a long moment. "Nothing. Not even the wind through a broken window or open door."