The smell of Kerosene proceeds him, TBW walks up and bows deeply "Well then if all the guests are as lovely as this I may just enjoy myself, I would kiss your hand but the mask doesn't come off. My reputation proceeds me, but you may know me as The Burning Waffle, Alchemist of Zaun. Who might you be my lovely?" TBW sits down and waits for the departure

Entering the carriage is like plunging into freezing water - an overwhelming magical power assaulting your very senses. Your perception of time slows, your movements become ungainly, and you feel immediately sleepy. She looks at you as you sit the carriage, slowed and dumbfounded, and the heavy aura lifts. Her voice however, is unnaturally sweet and honeyed- she speaks in a formal tone, yet you feel as though your passions being stoked, your desire to have her being tugged at... (roll a dice, make a will save... assuming a high will power, you resist the enchantment?)

This woman reeks of enchanter magic, and without an iron grip on your will, she may knowingly or unknowingly enslave your mind.

"You may address me as Miss Ravenloft. I am a private individual awaiting my approval into the League... I know of the zaunists' reputation for the alchemical arts, but I must apologize I am not one to know of individuals..." She extends her hand, and you feel as though this was very, very wrong.

(I rolled an 11 on a d12)

Shaking her hand "Excuse me if i don't remove my glove misstress, but I've become quite paranoid, especially those who stink of magic like you do. As well, my flesh has become so deformed it would probably scare you quite a bit. Miss...Ravenloft you said, well then I am...Intrigued at your skill as a summoner, taking control of a champion isn't as easy as it seems, but once you get it even one as...off as me can become extremely good at it" he laughs a deep laugh that would instill fear in most lower beings

"Believe me, Waffle, deformed flesh I am not disturbed by..." She finishes the handshake, her grip quite strong for a woman. Too strong.

"And you're quite mistaken. I do not wish to be a summoner, I have, daresay, the ego to wish to become a champion. I believe that shady summoner from who knows where, who calls himself Necromonger... he is quite fond me. Or is it the other way around... "

"Sigh... when will this carriage depart? The Count is waiting for me, and I have not all day to tarry... these other guests are surely not here to chat outside? There is a wedding to be had. tsk."

(Waiting for the next two guys to come in.)

"Ah, I am quite sorry for my misconception, but it seems we're stranded until others arrive, so in the meantime, would you like to pass the time?" He pulls out a handful of syringes of multiple hues and translucences and grins under his mask

"Thank you for the offer... but I apologize, as nearly all substances have... little to no effect on me anymore, as much as I miss that sort of thrill seeking in my... youth." She sighed, when the porter placed a very large object atop the carriage, and tied it down.

"Your special luggage is secured, milady. Yours will be arriving shortly, sir Waffle... we're just moving your items off the ship a bit more slowly, as per the instructions on the container." The gruff old porter said, as he moved off to the cargo hold of the ferry.

The rope wasn't secure enough though, as the large object slipped and hung in view of the carriage window. A black coffin, the silver plaque on it read the name Elisabeth Ravenloft, died 20xx (about 10 years ago in Valoran time).

Miss Ravenloft smiled and chuckled slightly. "Ah... such unreliable help to be had these days." She exited the carriage and put the coffin back in place with one hand, lingering outside to do the knots properly. She re-entered the vehicle, and said,

"You... you won't be chit-chatting about what you saw now, would you?"

(Sometimes I break the mystery early.)

"So your a corpse reanimated? That explains the stench of magic that permeates you. Little matter, i've tested my concoctions on living, dead, reanimated, animal, furry, metrosexual, royal family, you name it. They have a tendency to work regardless. And mostly they're for my amusement, but if you were to win, I would...say, give you one desire so long as it was in my power" He layed the syringes out, one clear, one a dull see-through pink, one a sickly green with black specks in it, one a deep blue that glowed dimly, one and opaque white, and one an opaque black that seemed to leech in the light around it "It's quite fun, to die for some would say"

"My dear... Reanimation is a weak word, suitable only those reclaimed rejects in Noxus. messy, uncultured, and utterly powerless." She began, taking off her veil, her crimson eyes now clear to see. Every square inch of her face revealed seemed to amplify her charm effect.

"I am,for a lack of a better word something... classical." She eyes the black syringe with curiosity.

(Hopefully someone else comes in soon.)

Through his mask he sees his fellow eyeing the black syringe "I had fun making them all, but that one in particular. Would you like to try it my lady?" He picks it up and takes her wrist "I'll be a gentleman for one time and let you decide your fate" The needle hovering lightly over her veins

(Make a physical resistance check if you don't want to be stabbed, otherwise roll a 6 sided if you have one for an effect)

"Very well. It's not like I'm going to die again...." she giggled, and fearlessly slipped the syringe into her forearm. (let's go with 3 on a d6 .)