The Shattered City: Chapter Four

[DocBeard]

"Hi." Tomas sort of gives a little wave; he knows Celeste is better at this, but lifelong 'think i am big and friendly and not a monster' instincts are hard to shake. "Sorry to wake you folks."

((What do we need to roll to try and recognize these folks?))

[The Whistler]

"Yes, as I said, our deepest and most sincere apologies for the inconvenient hour! Investigative duty waits for no person, and more is the pity for it... ...I say, have we met each other before?" Celeste smiled at the two of them quizzically.

History, I think, and I failed mine.

[NeoTiamat]

1 Days, 17 Hours, 28 Minutes
Carnival Game Booths, The Midnight Market, Early Morning on April 23rd, 770
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"Specifically, the last breath of Death. An unusual task, but then, the Market is the place for those with unusual skills, is it not? We have been advised to seek an expert in travel in order to find this thing, and your expertise would therefore be invaluable."

Finnsen's eyes got even brighter, and his smile even wider. "Now you have a tale worth telling!" he exclaimed, idly tossing his scrimshaw and knife to the side. "I like you, friend. You hunt dangerous quarries, and I speak as a sea-faring man. I've seen many a whaler go to the depths below."

"Think you this be a dead thing, the Last Breath of Death? Maybe not, maybe, but close enough fhor what I am thinking," Finnsen said after a moment's thought. "Be you from Darkon, good Doctor? I've heard the accent many a time. Came you here by train, perhaps?" The black-eyed man grinned with excitement. "Heard you of the Ghost Train?"

1 Days, 17 Hours, 28 Minutes
The Midnight Market, Early Morning on April 23rd, 770
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"An emissary from an old acquaintance, occasionally things cannot be achieved through bullets and gunpowder.."

“Hmm. I shouldn't be surprised that they're expanding.” Athene said musingly. She did not appear terribly mystified, admittedly.

"Persuade me Mademoiselle, I agree with your sentiments, but you ask a high price. Tell me why these Triarchs are the epitome of tyranny and who wants them dead and.... more importantly why. I fight for freedom for the people of this land, but I will not lead them from one set of shackles to another."

"Name your patron, persuade me to your cause and I will do as you ask, you have my word."

“I... can't. Even if it wasn't a violation of every mercenary's oath, I couldn't name him to you.” Athene said, looking just a little sheepish. “To be honest, I don't know his name, and I don't know what he looks like. I've never seen him. But he's reliable, if unpleasant, and I've dealt with him for years. He knows everyone, and he's always good for his debts. Sometimes in gold, sometimes in information, once or twice in arcane trinkets. I don't like him... but I trust him.”

“The Triarchs though, them I know.” Athene said, her voice growing heated. “Listen, Benoit, they're the worst that Dementlieu has to offer. They're emblems of it's darkest vices, they're the stagnation that keeps this country in the cesspit. Three of them, each one worse than the other.”

“The Lady of Spring, who's all the intellectual callousness of the upper classes and the University. She hasn't a compassionate bone in her whole damn body. She has knowledge, she has power, but she's selfish and self-interested, and she'd as soon slit you open as look at you, just to see what makes you tick.” Athene said, then let a humorless little smile. “I'm not the best revolutionary, not like you. Murder and mayhem for sale, remember? But even I think she's twisted and evil.”

“Then you've got Mother Summer. Patron of power, patron of the nobility, patron of all that sickening, contemptuous noblesse oblige.” Athene spat. The woman gazed at Nicolas with a particular fervor in her eyes. This wasn't the kind of belief that could be faked, not unless Athene was a far better dissembler than she'd shown herself. “She'd smother the people with her sick charity, give them bread and circuses, and nothing will ever change. The paternalistic nobles will always have the power, and the people will have nothing but crusts of bread tossed from the aristocrat's dinner table.”

“And then there's the Crone. Lady Death. She might be of the common ranks, but what was she? She was their apathy.” Athene said quietly. “Sloth... easier to just wait for things, to die a little every day, then actually try and change the world. Have you ever noticed how since she's died, people are starting to care more? Giving to charity, helping each other. The people are readying to take a stand against a cruel government? That's because their apathy just died. Because she died.”

“So... I guess if you want to ask, who wants the Triarchs dead? I do.” Athene said, blinking in the darkness. She leaned forward, closer to Nicolas, her face just inches away from his. She was pretty, certainly, but there was a hunger in her face, for something more ephemeral than meat or drink. “I want them dead so badly I can taste it. I want them and all their influence gone, and for nothing. Nothing and no one to replace them. I don't know why my employer wants this done. But I'd wager blood that he's not the sort to try and fill the Fey Lords shoes... and if he is, well then I'll kill him myself.”

1 Days, 17 Hours, 28 Minutes
The Chateau Malchance, Early Morning on April 23rd, 770
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"Let us not dilly dally then, Shall we take your coach or shall I summon another?" He said with a smile and a sweep of his hand, a hand that up until the gesture, the commissioner had thought was still cleanly within his grasp.

Gauvain didn't answer, instead walking back down the pathway to the Chateau. Half a block down the street the red-capped Gendarme came out from the shadows and alleyways, forming up around you.

Within another block a black carriage came rattling through the streets, ready to pick you up.

1 Days, 16 Hours, 59 Minutes
The Hospice of the White Dove, Quartier Ouvrier, Early Morning on April 23rd, 770
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"Religiously inspired or no, a chamber dedicated to a Triarch should have certain dimensions, certain traits determined by the power summoned and bound therein, so... If I wanted to make a room fit for a Triarch, what would I do?"

Unfortunately for Lia, architecture did not appear to be her strong point. The Hospice of Hala seemed like any other building to her, and she had little idea whether a chamber to such a being would even be on this plane of existance.

More unfortunately for Lia, around this time she heard footsteps, a number of men fanning out to circle the Hospice.

Outside, le Marquis clicked toward the entrance as his gendarme moved to cover the rest of it. His eyes narrowed as they fell upon the door - almost, but not quite, closed.


1 Days, 16 Hours, 59 Minutes
Outside the Bergeron Residence, Quartier-Savant, Early Morning on April 23rd, 770
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"Hi." Tomas sort of gives a little wave. "Sorry to wake you folks."

"Yes, as I said, our deepest and most sincere apologies for the inconvenient hour! Investigative duty waits for no person, and more is the pity for it... ...I say, have we met each other before?" Celeste smiled at the two of them quizzically.

"No," the woman replied simply. She was an older woman, perhaps in her fifties, her pale blond hair shot through with white. She regarded the pair of you with faded blue eyes.

The man, with a look at Celeste for permission, carefully took the papers from her hands. He unfolded them, smoothed them out, and read them over calmly. "Odd," was all he said, his expression unchanging.

The woman came to read the papers as well, over his shoulder, and hummed in agreement.

He handed the papers back.

"Please come inside," the man said. The woman gave a small, socially acceptable curtsy. "What do you require?"


1 Days, 16 Hours, 59 Minutes
Rue de Mont-Noir, Quartier-Ouvrier, Early Morning on April 23rd, 770
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"Hmm," Nerit said with a furtive glance toward Rex. She stood where she was. "I was curious if you might know something about this building here, Monseiur. I am sorry to disturb you."

"Come here often?"

“I sleep here.” The bearded beggar said, voice calm. “For three years now, though I don't go inside. It's condemned by the government, and no one's allowed inside. For their own good. Some say the place is haunted, though it isn't. Still a dangerous place. The floor can collapse, and you don't just fall through a neat hole. No, the wood will rip through you as you fall, and you'll bleed to death on the lower levels. Heh. Heh. Heh.”

That was how the beggar laughed. Very slowly, very calmly. No mirth at all in his voice.

“A man killed a lot of people here, three years ago. Don't know why. He came into the yard, had a long knife. And he locked the doors and then went in, and he started chopping up the priests, then he started chopping up the kids.” The beggar related the story in the same flat tone as before. “They found him later, still carving up the kids, though they were dead by then. Took him to Montmort, Madame Guillotine kissed his neck.”

“They say he's still in there, with his long knife. Hoping for more kids to hurt.” The old man said. “But he isn't. There's nothing that can kill you inside. Just the floors. Heh. Heh. Heh.”

[yalenusveler]

"It's death and the fae co-mingled." Kerrian said, wondering what a Ghost Train had to do with anything. Probably a great deal, honestly. "It's moving, and constantly on the move now. And honestly, we don't have long to catch it, even though we don't even rightfully know where to look." Kerrian looked more than a bit sheepish at that admission.
"Do you think it could be on this Ghost Train ?"

[Nathan of the FoS]

"I am of Darkon, yes," Mercator allows. "My first sight of the train was in Levkarest; I have never ventured to my homeland's western coast. I am somewhat familiar with the train of which you speak. It was the Mordentish engine, was it not? The one lost somewhere between Hope's End and the station in Dementlieu?"

He stops and chews over his next thought for a minute or so before continuing. "It is said that it can go any number of places which...are not commonly accessible; that it must be boarded at midnight...but it was my understanding that it is not seen in Port-a-Lucine. Was I misinformed? Do you think taking passage on this train will allow us to get this...Breath? And can you arrange for us to board it?"

[Kaitou Kage]

"Charming," Rex muttered under his breath, "An orphanage haunted by the ghost of a murderer. What was the man's name?"

He looked up at the orphanage. Getting in shouldn't be an issue -- for anyone, really. He wasn't too worried about the floors but Nerit probably wasn't as agile.

"Shall we?" Rex asked, "We've a large building to search and no idea what we're looking for."

[The Whistler]

"Please come inside"; "What do you require?"

"Oh, nothing so very inconvenient, M. & Mlle. Bergeron." Celeste curtseyed in return as she passed through the entryway. "Merely a matter of some present importance to the constabulary... Tell us, if you might: have you made the acquaintance of one M. Thierri Boucher, a stage magician of some renown? And if so, in what context... I assure you, your answer shall aid our Nation's police corps in no small degree!"

[Nerit]

"Merci," Nerit said to the man and paused, looking at Rex, perhaps expecting something. But the moment passed and she followed him closer to the old orphanage.

"I believe Eisenwald mentioned an orphanage massacre before," Nerit told the pharmacist quietly. "I can't imagine this would be any other. There was certainly death here, but I don't know about Thierri."


I thought Tomas mentioned the massacre IC. If this is not the case, please inform me of such.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"Curses," Lia grumbles when she notices the approach of strangers. "Should have closed the bloody door." The Mage makes a last effort to find the whereabouts of the shrine to the Triarch, but... No.

"It is at times like these that I wish Charles and Sarari were not living the good life in Darkon," Lia sighs, stroking the fur on Grimmric's back again. "Ah, well." She puts one hand firmly on the hilt of the wand sticking through her belt, and starts to quietly make her way towards the entry hall. 'Better face whoever is coming head on. If hostilities break out, I can burn a hole through their ranks and run -- maybe.'

(OOC: Perception check of 10. Either the dice roller really, but really hates me, or I am not fated to face the room alone and should be counting my lucky stars.)

[NeoTiamat]

1 Days, 17 Hours, 24 Minutes
Carnival Game Booths, The Midnight Market, Early Morning on April 23rd, 770
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"Do you think it could be on this Ghost Train ?"

"It is said that it can go any number of places which...are not commonly accessible; that it must be boarded at midnight...but it was my understanding that it is not seen in Port-a-Lucine. Was I misinformed? Do you think taking passage on this train will allow us to get this...Breath? And can you arrange for us to board it?"

"Not always at midnight, but that is the best time to catch it. You'll never see it at the Station here, but it still comes to Dementlieu," Finnsen informed with a smile. "I have a sense about these things, I can find it fhor you. As for getting on, that's the easy part! Pay the conductor two silvers per person, one fhor each eye." The blond man gestured helpfully to his own eyes. "It's getting off that's the hard part!"

"But the Ghost Train, it goes anywhere, and it goes fast. Even a breath couldn't run from it!" Finnsen boldly stated, more animated than usual, his black eyes gleaming. "You get me on it, I can drive it right after anything you want. I've always wanted to drive a train!"

"Old Tom Fields will not care for me driving his train off the rails," the boatman mentioned, pensively, idly scratching his cheek. "If your sightseeing friends and their many sharp weapons are up for more sightseeing, I would bring them all along."

1 Days, 16 Hours, 53 Minutes
Outside the Bergeron Residence, Quartier-Savant, Early Morning on April 23rd, 770
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"Tell us, if you might: have you made the acquaintance of one M. Thierri Boucher, a stage magician of some renown? And if so, in what context... I assure you, your answer shall aid our Nation's police corps in no small degree!"

"No," the man said simply enough. He looked back to the woman, who shook her head.

"But it must be important, for him to send people here like this," the woman added, nodding at the papers Celeste held. The two looked at each other for a moment, then both turned to look back at you.

"We will render any assistance you request of us," the man said, and the woman nodded.

1 Days, 16 Hours, 53 Minutes
Rue de Mont-Noir, Quartier-Ouvrier, Early Morning on April 23rd, 770
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"Charming," Rex muttered under his breath, "An orphanage haunted by the ghost of a murderer. What was the man's name?"

“Don't know it.” The beggar said, huddling into his ragged clothing against the early morning chill. Then he fell silent, watching the pharmacist and the nun as they approached the orphanage doors.

The doors were made of wood, as had been mentioned previously, and probably would've gone down with a few stout kicks. A subtler entrance would have involved picking the large, rusted padlock, something that could likely have been accomplished with a stick and some effort, let alone proper lockpicks. On the other hand, should one be interested in leaving fewer traces of passage, some of the windows were open or broken, and not too far out of reach of an enterprising burglar. Whatever the case, physical security was not the strong point of this place, but then, who would attempt to burgle a condemned orphanage?

It was at this point that a different problem presented itself. At the end of the street, appearing from a dark alleyway, were two gendarmes. That in itself was an unusual occurrence on an early morning in the Quartier Ouvrier, where few gendarmes would ever venture without due cause. But these two, both tall, dark-haired men in uniforms that seemed nearly black in the early light, were well armed. Rifles, rapiers, all the accouterments of the trade. Without slowing so much as a step, they set forth for the Mont-Noir Orphanage.

Thievery DC 15 to open the door, or Acrobatics DC 18 to go in through the windows.
To avoid trouble with the gendarmerie, either enter quickly and roll Stealth, or prepare some good Bluff checks. Or whatever other plan you may concoct.

[Nathan of the FoS]

"Old Tom Fields will not care for me driving his train off the rails," the boatman mentioned, pensively, idly scratching his cheek. "If your sightseeing friends and their many sharp weapons are up for more sightseeing, I would bring them all along."

Mercator blinks.

"In a word, M. Finnsen, you are proposing that we hijack the Ghost Train, and install you as engineer, so you can derail the train and drive in pursuit of our quarry. Yes?"

[lostboy]

Nothing and no one to replace them. I don't know why my employer wants this done. But I'd wager blood that he's not the sort to try and fill the Fey Lords shoes... and if he is, well then I'll kill him myself.”

Nicolas to his credit doesn't flinch away from her, simply gazes with intensity into her eyes (that's what romantic poet's do after all). All the while wrestling internally with his revolutionary fervour and the mission at large. With a stoic face he speaks, "I am of a mind to acquiesce to your demands mademoiselle, your eloquence cuts to the quick. I am not one to suffer tyranny no matter the source, yet something strikes a chord of warning in this scenario, and I have a sense that we are but marionettes on another's strings. Calm your fervour for a moment and consider that you are asking me to walk blindly into another's machinations. That in itself seems facile, both for you, blinded by revolution for its own sake, and for myself honour-bound to what seems a pawns game."

He pauses for a moment, contemplating, yet never wavering his gaze form her eyes, keeping his focus with her. "Very well I will strike you a deal mon camarade, grant me audience with your employer and I will do what I can to persuade your compatriots. A cause on the whim of a mysterious agent is not a cause to trust with ones life and honour. I have not survived at liberty this long by compromising myself, surely you can see that?"

Oh boy was he sweating, but backed into a corner, Nicolas threw caution to the wind and decided to bluff it out and go for the whole nine yards down the most dangerous street he could think of, hell it might even be worthwhile... If not it was a cracking epitaph and a potential best seller at some point in the future for the valiant poet who lived fast and died young...

OOC: Diplomacy 31 (dice roller likes me this week )

[Kaitou Kage]

By the time Nerit got to the door, Rex already had the lock opened. He slid his lockpicks back up his sleeve and opened the door just enough to slip inside.

"Best if we get inside quickly," he murmured and disappeared into the orphanage.

Stealth 28

[Nerit]

Nerit grabbed hold of the door and followed quickly after, but she found herself unable to move further inside. Holding in a shriek, she glanced back to see her habit snagged on the decayed wood of the door. She tugged and fiddled with the cloth and nearly ripped it. Once free, the nun shut the door as quietly as she could. There was no hope pretending the approaching gendarme didn't see anything, however.


Stealth: 12, 14, 14. That roller's a #$%!.

[NeoTiamat]

1 Days, 17 Hours, 19 Minutes
Carnival Game Booths, The Midnight Market, Early Morning on April 23rd, 770
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"In a word, M. Finnsen, you are proposing that we hijack the Ghost Train, and install you as engineer, so you can derail the train and drive in pursuit of our quarry.  Yes?"

"Mmmmmm," Finnsen hummed aloud as he continued to scratch at his cheek, reviewing Mercator's summary in his head. "Yeah, you got it. It's going to be great fun!" He beamed a pearly smile at the pair of you.

1 Days, 17 Hours, 19 Minutes
The Midnight Market, Early Morning on April 23rd, 770
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"Very well I will strike you a deal mon camarade, grant me audience with your employer and I will do what I can to persuade your compatriots. A cause on the whim of a mysterious agent is not a cause to trust with ones life and honour. I have not survived at liberty this long by compromising myself, surely you can see that?"

For a long moment, Athene hesitated. The muscular young woman was definitely considering things which went against proper behavior. But Nicolas was really exceedingly persuasive, and he was Benoit, after all. Surely the rules were somewhat suspended for Guy Benoit?

“I'll regret this... but so be it.” Athene said at length, giving Nicolas a rather distinct smile. “I really ought to ask for a second favor for this.”

“If he'll be anywhere, he'll be at the forest's edge.” Athene said, then turned to leave. “Follow me.”

1 Days, 16 Hours, 42 Minutes
Orphelinat de Mont-Noir, Quartier-Ouvrier, Early Morning on April 23rd, 770
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Despite what the beggar had told you, the inside of the Mont-Noir Orphanage didn't seem particularly run down. There was a distinct absence of any of the signs that one would normally associate with a ruined building. There were no holes in the floors. Nowhere had the roof collapsed. The walls were whole, the doors were all on their hinges. The entry hall had a desk, which was in one piece, and an icon of the Lady Ezra hung behind it, also quite well preserved. There was no dust on the desk.

Outside, you could hear footsteps, and low, muttered voices. The gendarmes had arrived, and it would behoove you to move away from the entry hall, if you were to find the Wealth rune.

You may stay at the entry hall and spy on the gendarmes as they enter, or you may push further into the orphanage. In either case, give me a Perception and a Stealth check.