The Shattered City: Chapter Two

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"I would usually offer you a cup of soothing tea, sister," Lia says, moving to stand by Nerit, "but under the circumstances, it probably isn't the best offer. Is there anything that I can do to make you feel more comfortable? You seem upset. Did you think of something more disturbing than the chance that King Azalin might have his hand in these events?"

[Nathan of the FoS]

Darius tenses at the Ezran's epithet, but when he replies his voice is a purr with just a hint of harshness. "By scrying, yes, only the greatest mages could do this thing."

He turns away, leaving the logical continuation unsaid--someone in the room wouldn't have to scry to telekinese a small, sharp object into someone's cup, and that sort of cantrip is within the grasp of many.

"Suit yourself," he says shortly to Nicolas, as the poet invites himself along. "Anyone else coming?"

[DocBeard]

Oh, hey, help.

And yelling. It makes Tomas all nostalgic~.

Nerit handles it, however, and Tomas makes a mental note to thank her. "Three is enough, this already looks suspicious enough." Tomas advises, and starts jogging after the men.

[Nerit]

Nerit was quiet for the duration of Darius' presence. After they had exited, she replied to Lia, "No, Mademoiselle, but thank you."

She steeled herself and brusquely wiped at her eyes. "I saw a reflection in the window, of which the Mulani are not aware. Powerful magi--no, venefici for this attempt-- are capable of affecting the world through reflection. And I only meant that it could be like the King's power, you see. I suspect it is internal. You are a professor, you can confer with the others."

[yalenusveler]

Glad that things seemed to be returning to relative normalcy, Kerrian gestured, and the transparent hound vanished from sight.

"What did you see reflected? A person, a thing? Or just something indistinct that shouldn't have been there?" And then a look towards Cyrus and Lia.

"And can we please not throw accusations at each other? We've no proof one way or another, and wouldn't it be pretty stupid to attempt to kill a member of the Gendarmes in front of several witness that you live with? Wait till he left, and find a way to blame it on residual craziness."

Kerrian gestured towards the puddle of blood and spilled tea "That had all the subtlety of a mad wolf. And if the attacker lived under the same roof as the rest of us, they should probably know by now that...well...it would probably wouldn't scare us off the trail...quite the opposite, in fact."

Making his way to the letter of introduction, Kerrian picked it up and looked it over. "Now, we have this...when do we head out to investigate? As soon as the others get back from taking Cedolin somewhere hopefully safe?"

[NeoTiamat]

Chateau Malchance, Quartier Marchand, Port-a-Lucine; March 24th, 770
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"Sympathetic magic of some kind is not impossible, but my brother's explanation is simpler, is it not?"

"Is it?" Professor Lessard asked, steepling his hands. "Sympathetic magic might well have caused the chaos on the 11th. Perhaps Captain Cedolin's explanation is the simplest of all."

Lessard sat back in his chair, examining the tea pot again, then pouring himself another cup. "Magic is fleeting, I fear, and whatever evidence we had vanished along with it. Without knowing how it was done, there's not much to be done about discovering who did it. If it was one of us, we have no proof, and whomever it was is now alert to our suspicions. If it wasn't, we'll tear ourselves apart for no purpose."

As if to punctuate the remark, Remy drank the tea.

The nun whirled on the twins and spoke to them as one. "Cur, none of us have done this! We are not powerful enough, not you, not even Lia! You want to know someone who could? Rex mei. Azalin!"

"Yeah, really, it couldn't have been one of us," Cerise said with a nervous grin, slightly concerned her breakfast table was about to turn into a hanging. "It could have been invisible weasels, you know. I read about them in a Rokushiman book. They have these little scythes and fly around while invisible, so they wouldn't leave any tracks or anything. Or it could have been-"

"A ghost," Richard interrupted, very quietly.

"Yeah, a gho- hmm," Cerise said, thoughtfully. She seemed almost thrown off by a supernatural response that was plausible.

"I saw a reflection in the window, of which the Mulani are not aware."

Richard made a noise as he looked at her, mouth open - the kind of noise as if he were trying to say something, but the words were dying in his throat. The tall Mordentishman was deathly still, for a minute, then strode into the kitchen, his features livid. There was a blast of frigid air as he pushed open the windows, looking out into the snow covered courtyard.

"Nothing," he whispered to himself, as flecks of white began to fall onto his black hair. "Nothing..."

Grabbing him by the upper arm, he detains him firmly and says, "Look, Captain. No tracks but yours on the front walk. Nobody's come with you."

As he says this, what he's really saying strikes Darius like a hammer. If nobody followed him and did this...it must have been one of us.net Hoping that the captain is too distracted to reach the same conclusion, Darius turns and looks for...

"Eisenwald. Maybe you accompany the captain back to town? Captain, do not exert yourself, you have lost blood. One moment and I will go with you."

"T-thank you." Cedolin, once his headlong flight had been checked, proved to be relatively tractable. Or at least the first mad impulse to escape had been quieted for the time being, and the absence of further assassination attempts seemed to vindicate Darius's comments. "I'm sorry... I just haven't been sleeping very well recently. I haven't been sleeping at all, some nights."

"Only... not to a hospital, but can you take me to the Palace of Justice?" Cedolin asked. His voice was still hoarse, but at least there was no more blood. "We have our own doctors there."

Since Kerrian brings it up, and since a quick poll of PCs on AIM confirms it, I'll be moving you guys onto the next stage of the investigation tomorrow. Consensus seems to be that the next stop should be the Cathedral, so unless someone makes a very good case for going somewhere else, it's to Ste. Mere des Larmes and to Bastion Pineau that you go. Cedolin and the trip are going to be handled in a side-RP.

Any objections or questions?

[Cronax]

"Then either the assassin can fly or he is in this house and has been the whole time," Cyrus continued. From his posture and his tone of voice he was well aware of what he was saying. "One of us -- I should say, one of you -- is a dissident."

"Regardless of capability to commit the crime, to my knowledge no one present has any motive to harm the captain." He eyes Nicolas critically when he says this, but does not qualify his statement. "Far more likely those responsible for the for the thefts and events at the gallery are at fault, trying to implicate ourselves in the death of a gendarme captain to sow further chaos into future investigations."

Sadly, it is not possible anymore to determine whether this spell came here with the captain or that it was lying in wait for him. It was on the tea cup." Lia points at the shattered fragments of china. "It reeked of necromancy, but I could not define it any better than that. It had arcane rhythm and is too sharply delineated to be primal, but it echoes of a faith spell as well. Neither fish nor fowl, impossible to categorize."

"Does it bear any resemblance to any traces you observed at the gallery or before at the museum Professor?" the Borcan asked. "And more to the point, can you think of any countermeasures we might employ against an attack like this in the future?"

Kerrian gestured towards the puddle of blood and spilled tea "That had all the subtlety of a mad wolf. And if the attacker lived under the same roof as the rest of us, they should probably know by now that...well...it would probably wouldn't scare us off the trail...quite the opposite, in fact."

"On that point, I must disagree Mr. Mauganson." Agale said gravely. "Our adversary has shown the will and very nearly the capacity to commit murder from a considerable distance with little to no trace." He did some mental arithmetic, weighing his chances against an enemy of unknown supernatural powers and the dangers of a city remaining in chaos. He poked a fork at the remainder of his cake, which had suddenly become supremely unappetizing. He also made a mental note to inquire to Professor Lemercier as to the ability of the Chateau's wards to mitigate scrying and other attacks of this nature.

[lostboy]

"Regardless of capability to commit the crime, to my knowledge no one present has any motive to harm the captain." He eyes Nicolas critically when he says this, but does not qualify his statement.

Nicolas does note the Borcan's look with some small amusement. Sighing briefly he pulls a silver flask from his coat and takes a swallow, offering it to Darius and Tomas but drawing it back from Cedolin. "Ah perhaps not Captain, whilst it may warm your belly it would not do your throat any favours I fear."

"Besides in the current climate it will do my standing in this august crowd no good either." He says with a faint smile directed back into the Chateau.

"Only... not to a hospital, but can you take me to the Palace of Justice?" Cedolin asked."

Screwing the cap back in place he turns ot the other three "So the Palais of Justice it is, always one of my favourite places... and on such a delightful morning."

Yep happy to move on to the Cathedral

[NeoTiamat]

Ste. Mere des Larmes, Quartier Publique, Port-a-Lucine; March 24th, 770
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The Cathedral of Port-a-Lucine was quite likely one of the defining monuments of Dementlieu. It stood in the center of Port-a-Lucine, upon a hill and surrounded by tree-lined boulevards of exquisite beauty. From the Cathedral one could walk straight down the Rue Soleil and pass by all the great buildings of Port-a-Lucine, until one reached the bay. The trees were covered in snow, with only a flock of red birds around to watch you enter the home of Ezra in Dementlieu.

Certainly, there was nothing else quite like it, anywhere in the world. The Cathedral proper was vast, a place of worship second only to the Grand Cathedral of Levkarest in the Western Core. But likewise, Ste. Mere des Larmes was a ruin, the roof long since collapsed inward, the eastern transept all but uninhabitable, many of the statues and decorations long since weathered away. It was a relic of a bygone era, and also a silent testament to the faith of Dementlieu.

Relic though it was, the Cathedral was also an operating church of Ezra, and as you entered the grand building you saw that the ruins were in many ways more show than substance. The Cathedral was open to the sky in places, and there were massive fallen walls and such, this was true. But many of the walls had been braced with sturdy timbers, and anything unstable or overhanging was discreetly shored up. Ste. Mere des Larmes may be a ruin, but it was a lived-in ruin, as safe in its own way as any fashionable townhouse a few blocks away.

Currently, services were not being held, and so the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Tears was given over to its day-to-day attendants. Wardens and Anchorites of the Ezran faith traveled hither and fro, emerging from side-rooms and disappearing into the endless chambers below the ruined cathedral. A member of the lay-staff was busily cleaning up the altar, while another was sweeping the floor.

The most interesting sight at the Cathedral was of course, the Icon. The Icon of Blessed Ezra, the sole stained glass window still remaining in the Cathedral. The Icon, depicting Our Lady of the Mists, from which Bastion Pineau's predecessor had been prompted to write the Third Book of Ezra. It was the Icon that could, with some truth, be said to have started the Dementlieuse branch of the Ezran Church, and it was to the Icon that pilgrims from as far away as distant Darkon or weatherbeaten Graben came. It was the Icon that was rumored to grant miracles, bright miracles of healing, and dark miracles of death.

At the moment, however, the Icon was also somewhat battered and bruised. The stained glass plates remained immaculate, but much of the lead framing was half-melted, as if by acid, and on the whole the beautiful window was in a sorry state.

Because of this, the Icon was currently at the center of some very un-religious attention. Several step-ladders were leaning against the wall of the Cathedral, and two young men were measuring every individual pane of glass with exquisite care. Standing away, a young woman was crawling around the floor, sketching a life-sized version of the Icon onto a truly mammoth piece of canvas, held down by two more young women. She was listening to measurements from the young men on the step-ladder. Another young woman (none of them were much older than twenty five), was in the process of painting a smaller reproduction of the Icon. All of this was being managed by an older woman, in her mid-thirties or early forties at a guess, dressed in black and grey, and with long red hair. This older woman noticed you coming in, and she met your eyes with a single arched brow.

Alice, having unavoidably tagged along with her brother, replied with a polite smile and a nod towards the workers. "Still hard at work, I see," she said.

"The Lady speed them in, in their efforts," Richard sighed. "I, I hate seeing the Icon like, like this."

Before you could do much in response, someone else came to meet you. He was short, perhaps five feet, five inches or so, certainly not much more, and decidedly tub-like around the middle. As a matter of fact, he reminded you of nothing so much as a solid, oaken barrel, round but determined. He had a neat, brown beard trimmed short, and hazel eyes. From the look of his vestments, the broad, green and white stripes indicated that he was someone of at least moderately significant authority.

"Mlle. Viardot! Why didn't you tell me you were coming? Mlle. d'Alencon was just here this morning, she'll be heartbroken that she missed you." The anchorite looked at the rest of you. "Oh, dear, where are my manners. Warden Alphonse Giroud at your services. We don't have many visitors at this time, but how may I help you?"

Int Check

[Nathan of the FoS]

Darius keeps to the back, looking around the half-ruined cathedral with a mixture of interest and disdain. The Dementlieuse seem to positively revel in this sort of controlled chaos, but, unsurprisingly, it seems to have slipped their control...with predictable results.

He nods at the warden's introduction but doesn't speak...he would hate to be mistaken for the leader of this band of rascals, and not just because it would probably get things off on the wrong foot for a servant of the Lawgiver to start questioning an Ezran priest right in the Ezran's cathedral.

He gives Cyrus the look that means, Try to keep your smart mouth closed and then goes over the scene again, his cat-curiosity stirring at the foreign-ness of it all.

Int check 21

[DocBeard]

Tomas, who took a minute to wrap a plain brown cloth around his sword, looks a little panicked as he quickly dabs his lips and tries to put out the burning embers that persistently blaze in his coat. It was a freak accident, something metal sparked against something else metal and, well, fortunately Tomas acted quickly enough to keep it from being anything other than a little embarrassing. This was a new coat!

"Guten Abend." Tomas mutters, holding out his hand to shake. He then realizes this isn't exactly how you greet a semi-important priest in this part of the world. He THEN realizes that putting his hand away would make it go from faux pas to an outright insult. "...you're looking well, Herr Warden! I, ah, hope appearances are not deceiving in this instance, ja?"

Good thing I'm so smooooth, Tomas thinks, only half-ironically. After all, a friendly attitude makes up for just about everything with most people.

(OOC: Got an 8 on my int check.)

[The Whistler]

"Mlle. Viardot! Why didn't you tell me you were coming? Mlle. d'Alencon was just here this morning, she'll be heartbroken that she missed you."

“Warden Giroud!” Celeste scampered up from the back of the crowd and curtseyed enthusiastically at the priest, through a rather voluminous white fur overwrap. “What a singular delight to be again in your company! Oh, forgive my distractable nature—it was only this morning that we formed the idea to call at Ste. Mere des Larmes, and in a moment of utter frivolity I failed outright to send a messenger ahead to you. Dear Yvette…she may be assured that her cousin is likewise heartbroken to have missed her! We do correspond frequently by post, but there can be no substitute for personal attendance, when the object is so cherished a relation…why, it has been nearly a week since our last meeting! I shall have to call upon her for lunch…”

"Oh, dear, where are my manners. Warden Alphonse Giroud at your services. We don't have many visitors at this time, but how may I help you?"

It was at this point that Celeste realized that she had brought a small army along with her. “Oh! The trespass is on my account entirely, dear Warden!” A round of introductions followed, as Celeste identified her various companions one by one, garnishing each one with a number of rather baroque compliments.

“…And this, fellow-lodgers, is the dear friend of my first cousin and childhood playfellow, Mlle. Yvette d’Alençon—and one whom I feel perpetually fortunate to know!” There were definite invisible quotation marks around ‘friend of my first cousin’; it sounded as if Yvette was dating the vicar.

“Ah, but Warden Giroud—to our purpose!” You could hear Celeste remember, suddenly, that she was at the Cathedral for a reason. “Our errand this day casts your Mlle. Viardot in a role in which you should be most unaccustomed to encounter her. I speak, Warden Giroud…” She leaned in a few inches, resorting again to her unfortunate stage whisper.

“…of the role of Investigatoress!”

With a flourish, she handed the priest the letter of introduction. “The details of our quest are detailed herein, dear Warden…oh, do say that we may explore this matter to our fullest capacity!”

[Cronax]

"Yes, quite." Agale had been listening to the exchange between Giroud and Miss Viardot with some degree of amusement over the latter's propensity for the dramatic. The Tollere wore a sharp black woolen raincoat over his usual grey suit. "We are here in a semi official capacity on behalf of Captain Cedolin to assist as we may in his investigation into the disappearances here lately. Unfortunately, the good captain was not entirely possessed of his wits so if you would be so kind as to reiterate for our benefit what details you told him, we would be grateful."

[Nerit]

The nun stayed in the middle of the herd, or whatever it was. The habit under her scratchy wool cloak would show her for what she was no matter where she was standing.

Nerit was rather preoccupied when it came to their introductions, but she had enough piety and grace to know when to incline her head to her institutional superior.

She was absorbed in the stained glass Icon, for the moment. It seemed this week would consist of staring.


Edit: I am stupid and forgot to roll Int. 16. Oh, yeah that was so worth it.

[yalenusveler]

Kerrian himself seemed rather much caught up in staring at the reconstruction work going on with the Icon at the moment as well, finally speaking up to Richard whilst the ever more qualified Celeste made their introductions.

"When did it get damaged? Did it happen recently?" from his tone, Kerrian clearly meant during the recent...unpleasantness. "I...can't believe anyone would willingly damage it..it's beautiful."

Not even getting the whole "deity" aspect of the Ezrite faith, Kerrian still had to give them one thing...they knew how to make awe inspiring religious artwork.

OOC:Int check of 13, forgot to add the 1/2 my level.