The Hut of Chicken Bone: Night of April 10th

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Nathan of the FoS
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Post by Nathan of the FoS »

Nodding in response to Gertrude's answer, Chicken Bone says, "Merci, madame. Et alors, m'sieur, est votre tour, no?"

He now addresses Buchvald, whose candle suddenly leaps to life, its flame a spear of light a foot in height which sways gently in the night air.

"La chance...la necesstions tous, ne c'est pas? La chance et l'esprit du guerrier...et la flamme. C'est le don que votre patron offre; le recevrez?"


*Thank you, madame. And now, m'sieur, it's your turn, isn't it?

*Luck..we all need it, isn't that right? Luck and the fighting spirit...and fire. This is the gift your patron offers; will you receive it?
[b]FEAR JUSTICE.[/b] :elena:
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Post by alhoon »

Patiently waits for his turn, hoping that this man would know to hold his tongue. Draxton hated loose tongues, especially when they were babbling about his secrets to self-serving scholars and wizards.
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Post by Moral Machivelli »

Buchold jumps, just slightly, at the rise of the flame. He had not expected that.
"La chance...la necesstions tous, ne c'est pas? La chance et l'esprit du guerrier...et la flamme. C'est le don que votre patron offre; le recevrez?"
Smiling to himself at the sentiments of the Loa, Buchvold replies

"Oui, moisure."
"There is no great revelation, there is only you."
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Post by Nathan of the FoS »

Moral Machivelli wrote:Buchold jumps, just slightly, at the rise of the flame. He had not expected that.
"La chance...la necesstions tous, ne c'est pas? La chance et l'esprit du guerrier...et la flamme. C'est le don que votre patron offre; le recevrez?"
Smiling to himself at the sentiments of the Loa, Buchvold replies

"Oui, moisure."
Nodding, Chicken Bone lowers his head almost to his chest, humming absently. Suddenly he stiffens, then contorts, his body displaying an eerie flexibility as he writhes in the grip of some new spirit. Suddenly his eyes jerk open; they glow yellow even in the dim candlelight, and he turns toward Serd, speaking in a harsh, low voice.

"Me doissss..." it grates, ending in a serpentine hiss. "Mais s'en occupe que me payez en l'aide et no en la sangre. Mi gens v'aideront. Convenez-vous?"

*You owe me...but I'll see to it that you pay me in service and not in blood. My servants will assist you. Deal?
[b]FEAR JUSTICE.[/b] :elena:
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Post by alhoon »

Draxton's brows rise with interest... perhaps that won't be so bad after all. Speaking in Sourangian he replies
"Servants you say. I hope the deal remains between me and you or whether else I decide to trust. I wouldn't like my friends and allies to worry about my obligations, as they are my burden to carry." Nodding, Draxton says in a clear, determined voice "I agree with the deal spirit."

OOC> Draxton is (of course) lying. He is interested in necromancy and he believes he will learn quite a lot in this regard from his service. :) At the very least, he believes these "servants" are undead and it will give him time to study them.
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Post by Nathan of the FoS »

As the Richemulouise gives his assent, Chicken Bone is seized with tremors again, falling to the floor and writhing as the sigils at your feet contort themselves, writhing ever more quickly until they become mere blurs of light. The wind rises quickly, snuffing out your candles, and the room goes dark--dark as if you had been struck blind.

A moment later the darkness is pierced by the eerie white flicker of lightning, and the rain begins again in earnest, pounding at the roof as if it means to force entry.

The wind dies again, although the rain does not; you here Chicken Bone muttering, too low and quick to distinguish his words, and then the room is lit again as the lanterns and candles spring to life in unison.

"Eh bon...*" he mutters, standing; a drop of red glistens at the corner of his right eye. "Cinque...*Now, m'sieurs, madame. You have what you come for, no? Now, for your frien' Chicken Bone you have a gift, ne pas?"

Stooping, he picks up the sigil ring from the altar, displaying it in his calloused brown hand. "You be so good as to give me dis."

*Well...
*Five...
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Post by alhoon »

Draxton looks at the others. "I believe that it is a fair deal." Turns to the Voodun. "Speaking for myself, I agree you take this ring. If we ever have to get it back, we will either borrow it from you or replace it with something else of equal value."
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Post by Pamela »

Gertrude had listened carefully to the gifts being offered to her brothers. Her features didn’t bother to hide her suspicion when the loa demanded a service rather than blood from the Richemuloise. She remembered the curse he’d received that winter, and wondered if the foolish man was still sporting it as some badge of combat. If he is, what has it done to him- is its taint antipathy to the Serpent King…? She made a mental note to pursue the matter later with the Countess or Viktor, wondering if the blood tests done had revealed anything unusual.

I wonder what kind of service it is. You can be certain however that I have no intention to consider this my “burden”, thank you very much…

She watched warily as Chicken Bone was seized up again in convulsions, then shuddered again as the sigils wriggled like serpents at their feet. At the sudden darkness, her ears strained for any hint of sound, her hands rising slightly, unconsciously ready to cast. She started at the sudden thunder of rain above, looking upward as if something had landed heavily on the roof till reason informed her of its source.

Gertrude blinked as the room was suddenly alit once more, taking quick note of everyone’s state before turning back to the voudan. Five? Is he referring to our numbers in this room, or…? She had no further time to consider the matter when she again blinked at his next words. What?

The professor shook her head at Serd’s words, but said nothing to refute him. “Excusez-moi, m’sieur… Je v’s remercie pour l’rencontre avec…les seigneurs et la dame, et leurs dons. Mais…On a demandé qu’a porté cet anneau à la Maison.

Avez-v’s la réponse? Ou..est-ce qu’ces dons la donnera…?”
As she asked, she began to consider her own gift. I will know which path to take, but how? Is there to be some future omen? She turned to Crow, wondering if his particular gift was to provide the answer to their mission. She had no intention of leaving until she'd heard it one way or the other.

* Excuse me, sir...I thank you for the meeting with...the lords and lady, and their gifts. But...We'd asked who'd brought this ring to the Maison.

Do you have the answer? Or...will these gifts give it...?
His only real danger is if stupidity is contagious and lethal. In which case, we’re all dead…-Gertrude
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Post by Nathan of the FoS »

Llana wrote:
The professor shook her head at Serd’s words, but said nothing to refute him. “Excusez-moi, m’sieur… Je v’s remercie pour l’rencontre avec…les seigneurs et la dame, et leurs dons. Mais…On a demandé qu’a porté cet anneau à la Maison.

Avez-v’s la réponse? Ou..est-ce qu’ces dons la donnera…?”
As she asked, she began to consider her own gift. I will know which path to take, but how? Is there to be some future omen? She turned to Crow, wondering if his particular gift was to provide the answer to their mission. She had no intention of leaving until she'd heard it one way or the other.
"Ah, madame, que vaut que vous dis le nom, ou bien vous montrerai le visage? Les loas a manieres mieux de rencontrer quoi recherchent. Les dones que ayez recevant sont les justes, je suis certaine."

So saying, Chicken Bone closes his hand around the ring and puts it in a pocket, bowing very slightly as he says, "Puis aider-vous en autre maniere?"


*Ah, madame, what good is it to give a name, or even to show a face? The loas have better ways of finding what you seek. The gifts you have received are the right ones, I'm sure.

*Can I help you with anything else?
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Post by Rotipher of the FoS »

The bard has been uncharacteristically silent as the others' agreements with the loa are sealed, taking note of each cryptic phrase proffered by the enigmatic entities which 'ride' the old voodan. Kingsley's "patron", who'd kept her distance -- caution? limited interest? or would it merely be unseemly for a feminine spirit to inhabit a man? -- and Buchvold's, whose demonstrative feat with the burning taper spoke of volatile caprice, to say naught of pyromania: a good pairing, that. And Serd's spirit-benefactor, whose hissing voice had spoken before; a bargainer, very like the mortal it endorsed, hence no more to be trusted than the Richemulouise.

And I? Did Chicken Bone's judgment pair me rightly, as well? If so, on what basis... and if so, dare I wholly credence my 'patron's' guidance, if indeed it shares my aspect?

Wishing that he knew more of the voodan's uniquely-Souragnien spiritual mythos, Crow listens intently to their host's words during the interlude in darkness, not much satisfied by what he hears. When the light returns, and Chicken Bone murmurs that puzzling "Cinque...", it occurs to him that the elder's own patron has not expressed an opinion. If the veve on which the aged diviner stands is what he thinks it is, this is no bad thing.

Kingsley's expressed perplexity, and Chicken Bone's glib reply, reminds him that the answer they had sought is still in doubt. Circumstance still binding him to discretion, the spy thinks back to the loas' utterances: less poetically-phrased, yet no less laden with veiled meaning than Perrison's befuddled fortune-telling.

Not Buchvold's, certainly: luck, alone, won't stand in for information here, and 'fighting spirit' is reactive, not a chosen course of action. Not Madam's either, I should think: whatever pivotal decisions or 'crossroads' might await her, we've not reached such a turning-point, yet. And Serd? Snakes bartering with snakes? If it's to him, whom insight is to be given, he'll turn it to his own devices, not those of the Fraternity or any cause the other loa would likely endorse.

Damn. It's me, isn't it? Rings leaving their marks ... a cold beauty ... eyes with which to see, and that need to....

Dash it, I've missed something.

The VRS spy blinks, glances again to Kingsley, wonders how -- or if -- the scalpel-lady can be persuaded to desist in pressing the voodan for more information, so they can return to the Maison and he can deduce what, exactly, he has so far overlooked.
"Who [u]cares[/u] what the Dark Powers are? They're [i]bastards![/i] That's all I need to know of them." -- Crow
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Post by Pamela »

The scholar nodded at the voudan’s reply, but her eyes were still fixed upon the bard. He certainly didn’t act as if he were in sudden possession of their answer. The loas may have better ways but we mortals need our answers in finite time…preferably before we see Brother Roechha again.

Gertrude turned now however to give Chicken Bone her attention once more; it wouldn’t do to seem to snub him after whatever services had been rendered. “J’pense que nous sommes finis…” Again she turned to Crow, and asked in Mordentish, “Is there anything you’d like to say…?”

*I think we're done
His only real danger is if stupidity is contagious and lethal. In which case, we’re all dead…-Gertrude
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Post by alhoon »

The exchange of glances between Crow and Kingsley weren't missed by Draxton's eyes. He seems skeptical as the others do as his mind works to find answers... quite different answers than the others seek though. He is confident in the voodun's powers and judgement. The answer will come to them in due time. Other matters press Draxton's mind.

Kingsley watches Crow. Each of them seemed to respect the other's opinion but they were a bit uneasy with each other. Crow watches Kingsley; she does the same. If there is the need for an alliance between the members there is no question that these will work together. Do they fear that they may stumble upon each others plans? Does one of them wants to include the other in his or her plans?

Whatever Crow thinks of himself, Getrude is smarter while he knows more trivia. They could be dangerous if they combine their talents. Both are useful though and something good could come out of this unsteady alliance they are preparing. Also they seem to know quite enough about him, which makes the process of sowing doupt between them difficult.

His mind goes to Buchvold, even if he avoids to look at the Borcan not wanting to betray his thoughts.
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Post by Nathan of the FoS »

"Que etes finis?" Chicken Bone asks, an expression of alarm crossing his face for a moment. Seeing Gertrude and Crow converse, after a moment he relaxes and grins. "Ah, c'est bon. Etes fait." Turning away, he orders, "Marie, un lumiere!"

The blank-faced girl emerges with an unlit lantern, which Chicken Bone lights, sending her down the stairs with a gesture. "Madame, m'sieurs," he says, gesturing politely to you that you may follow her down.



*That you're finished?
*Ah, that's all right. You're done.
*Marie, a lantern!

I don't know if this is true in French, but in Spanish the phrasing Gertrude used is more along the lines of "We're done for"--finished in a rather different sense. Hence Chicken Bone's confusion.
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Post by alhoon »

Draxton remains behind "politely" allowing the others to go on, standing close to Chickenbone, seemingly unaffected by the voodun's unsettling presence.
In a casual tone, he turned to Chickenbone and said in Sournagian, "I have a service to do for my patron, I'm sureit will be revealed in good time. As an honest merchant, I'm eager to close any depts as soon as possible."
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Post by Nathan of the FoS »

alhoon wrote:Draxton remains behind "politely" allowing the others to go on, standing close to Chickenbone, seemingly unaffected by the voodun's unsettling presence.
In a casual tone, he turned to Chickenbone and said in Sournagian, "I have a service to do for my patron, I'm sureit will be revealed in good time. As an honest merchant, I'm eager to close any depts as soon as possible."
"That is very wise, m'sieur," Chicken Bone replies, his dark eyes glittering with laughter. "You mus' not let such debts accumulate."
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