Duvalle pushed himself away from the table and sighed contentedly. There was nothing like a good meal to break the ice. While there was still an uncertain edge to everyone, they had seemed to come together, briefly during the meal, sharing the experience with relish.

Only Elizabeth and Marco seemed to still be completely reserved. Though he didn't completely understand Marco's frame of mind, his emotions indicated he have been processing a similar shock as Liz.

Duvalle made a mental note to make an appointment with Marco to see about helping him through his troubles. There seemed to be something related to the young man's grandmother's death and funeral that still bothered him. Duvalle hoped he could help.

Harold led the group deeper into Manor. They retraced their path, back to the foyer, where Harold led them through an archway behind the grand stair case towards the center of the manor. The aromas of cooking food stirred the air, adding to the ambiance. The collection of fine art wasn't limited to the foyer; paintings and sculptures were tastefully placed throughout the manor.

Jack was well into his second tumbler of the excellent whiskey, Bushmill's 1608 anniversary edition, when he noticed the car had slowed to gentle stop. Looking out the window he could see they were on a small wooded country lane. They'd stopped at a gate and what appeared to be a guard was talking to the driver.

A few moments later they were being waved through the open gate, and Jack thought they'd been transported back into time. The car wound through an estate the likes of he'd rarely seen aside from the grounds around the Royal residences. perfectly manicured lawns, gave the grounds an idyllic park like setting. Any minutes he expected to see sheep grazing, or a young lord pelting across the lawn on a horse, hunting hounds milling around the horse's feet.

When Liz exited her apartment, a well-dressed gentleman was standing at the curb in front of her apartment building's steps. Parked at the curb behind him is 1930's model Rolls Royce touring car. The passenger compartment’s door was standing open.

Liz briefly wondered whom the car belonged to. She didn't know anyone in the neighborhood who was affluent enough to own such a car. Either someone had a visitor or the driver was lost.

As Liz turned to lock the entrance, a small cough drug her attention back to the strange man and car. "Miss Downing?” She heard behind her, the man's tone gentle and inquisitive.

Liz turned back with a start. "Yes?" Mr. Duvalle had told her he was sending a car for her but this isn't what she had expected.

Barely six months had passed since the doctors had given Liz a clean bill of health after she had nearly died at the hands of a psychotic serial killer and she still found it difficult to make the short walk from the bus stop to her small flat. Every dark alley and blind corner reminded her of the dreadful night she had been attacked. How she had felt herself grabbed from behind before even realizing anyone was there. How a wet cloth had been pressed over her nose and mouth as she struggled to free herself to no avail. How as her consciousness faded she thought she heard a man's voice whisper she would be the one to unlock the last of the bowl's secrets.

This is the original background blurb for my character in the Faust Chronicles. I am in the process of rewriting and expanding it but I'm posting it now to give players an idea of what Darren is looking for.

Drifting up out of slumber Liz tried to roll over and found she was unable to move. Confusion pushing sleep from her mind she opened her eyes to find herself sitting upright, tied securely to a chair. Fear replaced confusion as memory of her abduction came flooding back. The rough hands grabbing her, the sweet smelling cloth covering her face, blocking her screams.