The host of the parties, Sir Toby is usually found strutting
about sipping brandy and rearranging his wig. Dressed in a
fine (well before it started rotting that is) afternoon jacket
Sir Toby waves his cigar about like a cutlass when he discusses
some finer points with the guests.

Sir Toby excels at getting absolutely nothing done, with flair.

The hostess, with a knowing smile she excels at entertaining
her guests in the most regal manner. Always dressed up in
splendid creations she'll bat her decaying eyelashes at just
about anyone, especially if you're a new guest and still
have warm blood.

Mr. Winterbottom, how nice to have you here again!

Jeeves, take dear Mr. Winterbottoms coat and make sure he gets
his tea, with just a touch of brandy like usual. Chop chop,
be snappy about it.

Ah, won't you step in Mr. Winterbottom, there's Sir Toby over
there. He's so been looking forward to hearing about your
latest experiments.

Rather plump and red in the face, for a zombie, Gibbuns is the
town Mayor and a given guest at all parties at Bain Estate. He's
usually found at the cake table.

A friendly tip, don't get between Gibbuns and the raspberry
tartlettes. He's got a sharp boot and won't hesitate to use it
if you threaten 'his' supply of pastries.

Admiral von Schneider enjoys bragging about his adventures on
the high seas and flirting with the women of the Bain family.

Ah sweet Chloe. This peachy beauty used to be the fancy of all
the men in town. At a recent teaparty Gil took a liking to her
and lured her away into the hedge maze.

Despite a search party being sent out she wasn't found until the
next morning. Apparently Gil had gotten a tad rough with the
hedge clippers when the excitement of having such a young, and
breathing, lady with him got the most of him.

Though still pretty, for an undead, the bandages and shuffling
walk somewhat detract from Chloe's appearance. Nevertheless, Sir
Toby treats her like his own daughter.

Broad of shoulder and quite impossible to get past, George is
the perfect gateman. He keeps snoopy neighbours outside, and
if they get inside, they stay in.

New guests at the Estate often mistake George's glum demeanor
for hostility. Sure, he likes administering a good bashing just
as much as the next man, but never the teatime guests. Unless
they're trying to leave early.

The gardens at Bain Estate are impeccably well kept thanks to
Gil the gardener. He's got quite the eye for trimming hedges,
flowerbed design and clipping the lush lawns. Yes, so strangely
lush and green aren't they? Gil says the secret's in the
special fertilizer ingredients, and grins a wicked smile and
lifts his eyebrows in a most conspicuous manner.

Though we suspect it, I don't think we really want to know.

Proper dress-coat, white gloves and a bit of a lisp.
For some reason the guests always assume Jeeves is
named Igor. Which is a mystery.

And every time someone dies suspicion is always put
on the butler. Which is perhaps not such a mystery.

Former eunuck at the court of island princess Taisha, M'beke
the pygmy was 'rescued' by Admiral von Schneider and brought
across the high seas as a prized possession, and eventually
presented as a gift to Priscilla Bain.

M'beke is trained in the arts of palm leaf fanning and brewing
the sweetest Cthulu plant tea. Unfortunately no one has a clue
where to find such a plant in these regions.

Some guests find M'beke a bit unnerving as he doggedly follows
Priscilla about attending to her every need. There's a vicious
glint in his eye, and when he smiles to show his sharpened
front teeth and strokes the shrunken dried voodoo skulls
hanging from his belt you'd be nuts not to feel a spinal chill.

Mr. Cole, the previous kitchenmaster, never quite recovered
after tripping on the meatcleaver. Everyone at the Estate
are excited about his replacement.

Freshly dug up and imported from the Alsace region Pierre is
the newest arrival. Navigating through the kitchen like a right
pompous bastard and ordering his staff about with an incoherent
dialect and directing his assembly by waving a wooden spoon about
no one quite understands what he means. But it looks serious.

The Estates fine collection of deathmares are lovingly taken
care of by Zed. A skilled rider himself, Zed always spearheads
the offense on the polo field.

Despite Zed's gallantry and charming ways, I suggest you tread
carefully near the stables. At night time a dim light spills
from the slightly open stable doors, and if you get close enough
you'll hear a low muttering accompanied by a droning thump...
thump...

Adept at fetching the morning paper for Sir Toby.
Rex is also rather fond of playing with the mailmen.
The feeling is not mutual.

Loves to snuggle up infront of the fireplace on cold
evenings and chew on his masters feet. No worries,
they grow out again.

In an attempt to actually get some mail delivered to the Estate,
Priscilla acquired a second dog, as it were. Wolf. Where?
There! What? Werewolf! Run!

Jokes aside, hopefully Rex will put some energy into 'playing'
with Regina instead of making confetti of the postal services.