Café de Nuit

'Right then,' Lia thinks as Thierri/Thanatos' attention is fixed completely on Celeste. 'Time to move to a less crowded location preparatory to the unleashing of horrific doom.'

Lia starts to move for the edge of the 'dancing area', but feels horribly conspicuous as she does so. 'This is why I prefer talking and firing destruction spells to sneaking around,' she thinks, fighting the urge to cringe.

(OOC: Stealth roll for a whopping 12. Egad. >_< I may need some help, here.)

Tomas proceeds to grab Lia's hand, and attempt to twirl her around in a suitably distracting manner. "Libschen, is it really a good idea to be openly taunting these fellows while we are in the middle of a sea of them?" Tomas then does a significantly more modest dip, mostly because if he's pushing his luck he might as well shove.

This is of course assuming that Tomas manages to get Lia to play along, which is not an assumption so much as a vague hope.

(22 bluff. If that counts as a success I'm sending it towards Rex.)

Kerrian continued to observe the wraiths, trying to move with him, his burst of unnatural insight gone, but still present as simple talent at reading people. And despite a..change of state, the wraiths were in a certain sense, still people.

Dead people, sure, but people all the same. Of course, relaying the taste in poetry to an anarchist poet while trying to avoid the touch of the dead was certainly something Kerrian never expected to have to do, but moving into the Chateau was supposed to be all about new opportunities.

Being more specific about said opportunities was, in hindsight, probably a good idea.

OOC:28 on an insight, for another bonus to Nic for next round.

Nerit wrote:"Morbid company is my usual accompaniment, Monsieur,"

"Then perhaps you will allow me to break with convention and enrapture you with the warmth of passion, if only for a brief moment of this eternity. Should you decide it is a choice that you find conducive, then you may call on me whenever you wish ma chere." Nicolas smiles and winks with a flash of dark eyes as the dance continues.

No -one would argue that Nicolas de Castaigne was anything but an impulsive, passionate fool, or at least those who don't wish him ill would say that, but depsite the gravity of the situation, in the moment even he becomes lost in the dance, the laughter and the snow falling softly around him. For a moment, just for a moment, time stands still and there is only the two of them, spinning, laughing, trading glances and verse back and forth, oblivious to anything but one another.

But like any stolen moment it comes to an end too soon, with the whsiper in the ear, a whisper that breaks the spell somewhat and brings him back to reality with a thump.

Nerit wrote:"Monsieur, we must not let Thierri attain his godhood,"

Stepping away but not relinqushing his hold just yet, Nicolas begins to pound a new beat with his heel, a faster beat, a more uptempo rhythm, before pirouetting Nerit effortlessly and pulling her close. Leaning in he breathes softly in her ear; "then trust me, ma chere, follow my lead and let us dance as if our souls depended on it. We buy time for all with a but a few moments of stolen pleasure."

Then they are whirling away, faster and faster, maintaining the tempo and drawing the attention of the wraiths, their forms pressed together as they spin. And as they dance Nicolas sings, his voice lifting over everyone:

""Was it an angel
That knocked on my door?
Or was it the wind?
Was I still sleeping
Lost in a dream?
Or was it you?"

"We swam in the fountains
Beneath the silent stars
We cried from the laughter
And died in each other's arms"

"Remember to live forever
Remember to live for love"

"I wept all my tears
Ages ago
Your name unknown
I witnessed an angel
Who had your eyes
Or was it you?"

"We ran through the graveyard
To catch the dying sun
We danced drunk and sated
Until the day was done"

"Remember to live forever
Remember to live for love"

The dance spins on, long after his voice has fallen silent, until finally its reaches its conclusion and the pair slow to a slow twirl. As he repeats the last line in a whisper, the glint of snow lights his eyes, he places one hand on Nerit's cheek and leans forward toward her..........to softly brush his lips on her forehead. "My pleasure ma chere, remember the invitation is always open." No wink this time, for once Nicolas has an earnest look about him.

diplomacy 27 - Im taking the success for Nicolas as a back-up in case Celeste misses the diplomacy roll, and I beleive Rex is pretty much there with the sneaks anyway. Can't hurt to have 3 bites at the cherry.

Over-enthusiasm in these situations can be fatal. So can overestimating one's ability to influence events.

Mercator, unfortunately, does both.

Allowing the darkness around him to fall (and hoping that no one noticed it, with so much going on--fireworks! Ghosts! Dancing nuns!) and seeing that the dance is whirling to a climax, he hurries forward, attempts to shoo an advancing spirit from his path with a gesture of his cane, and instead finds himself passing straight through the spirit.

Bluff 11. A roll of 2 deserves no more drama than this. 1, perhaps. You can work with 1. Disaster has its own poetry. But 2? As miserably uninspiring as a roll can be.

Excellent. The pieces are in place. The con is primed for Miss Viardot to strike. It was now time to plan for contingencies. A distraction would be the logical next step. Redirect the creature's attention, if just for a moment, should she fail.

Abruptly ceasing his chorus, Mr. Agale addressed the ghostly throng in an even and analytical tone, like a professor might instruct an uninformed colloquium. "Does the simplicity of his intention not cast doubt upon you spirits? That this creature, once Mr. Boucher, a mishap born of crossed intentions and irregular forces should claim a to be precisely what is needed to restore the status quo. I for one do not believe in coincidence or luck, neither should your motives rely on impulse."

Bluff 26 to distract the wraiths. (Giving the success to Rex)

Nerit bowed her head to Nicolas, her long hair swinging freely at her back. "Merci, Monsieur," she replied demurely. "You are a most excellent dance partner."
When she lifted her head she gave him a significant, sharp look and let the corners of her mouth curl upward.

The nun--could she be, even now?--stepped away and cried out in fright. "OH! Monsieur Mort! My veil has fallen!" She patted her hair frantically, a wild expression now planted firmly on her face. "How could I!" she hollered, and spun to the wraiths, heaving with fervor (from the shame or the dance was anyone's guess).

"Please, please, good spirits, show me where it has gone!"


Mmm, good old distraction. Bluff 30. Success to Rex.

Celeste paused, for a long, long moment.

“Monseiur…monsieur, you do yourself a disservice.”

“You see before you a world of illusions, sir…a view I shall not dispute…and you see power, for which you claim a place apart. But I…I have never seen power, M. Boucher. I have seen the merciful, and I have seen the just; I have seen the powerful, yes…but I have never seen power. It is the most entrancing; the most persuasive illusion of all—ah, for who would care to maintain one’s station without it!—but it is an illusion nonetheless.”

“And that, monsieur, is why I feel you misconstrue yourself…for I look at you, M. Boucher, and I do not see a good man and a monster. I see a good man…one who is very powerful, at present…but a good man. We may disagree upon the particulars of our philosophy, but surely your humanity—your existence, your capacity to seek truth, where little exists—that is, itself, a truth. Perhaps the only one… And, sir, when I see a good man discard his very self in favor of an illusion, where it is not a choice he is compelled to make…

Celeste collapsed against Thierri’s chest. “Oh, sir, it need not be this way! If you are but willing to depend upon your friends—upon me!—to take the fate of Dementlieu upon ourselves…to take your own fate…”

She looked up. “M. Boucher…M. Boucher, I shall make your burden my own. Only forgo your employ this once; lend to me the foremost symbol of your office…recognize the illusion for the illusion, and in doing so, allow your true personage to shine through all the more brightly… Sir, in doing so, you would allow both our fair nation and yourself to be saved...through the noble efforts of those who most care for you.”

“If nothing else…Thierri…do so for me. I am reasonably certain of my own existence, and if you were to sacrifice your humanity…I am sure that I should greatly miss our conversations, sir.” The smile was altogether too tearful to be concerned solely with conversation.

28 on Diplomacy if you guys are letting me count my feat bonus; 25 on the nose if not.

Rex smiled at the empty air. He had not expected the pale, meek professor to be so good at this game. But perhaps he should have, he mused. The quiet ones are always better at it. Fortunately, the professor provided good instruction and the pharmacist vanished into the throng. His allies provided excellent distractions -- perhaps living in the Chateau Malchance would not be so bad.

Thanatos -- the being everyone called Thierri -- was just outside of reach, and none the wiser. It gave Rex a sudden, soul-deep thrill, that he could stand in the shadow of Death and go unnoticed.

Now would he need to steal from Death, too? And what would Death have that could be stolen?

Rex supposed he would think of that at a later time if he did not get his chance tonight.

2 Days, 23 Hours, 0 Minutes
On the River-Front, Quartier Ouvrier, Port-a-Lucine, Midnight on April 22nd, 770
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PC & NPC Actions
Lia = Attempts to Stealth, fails.
Tomas = Attempts to Bluff, also fails.
Kerrian = Succeeds on an Insight, Nicolas gains a +4 to his next check.
Rex = Succeeds on a Stealth (Physical)
Mercator = Attempts to Bluff, also fails.
Agale = Succeeds on a Bluff (Physical), success to Rex
Nicolas = Succeeds at a Diplomacy (Social)
Nerit = Succeeds on a Bluff (Physical), success to Rex

Celeste = You be the judge.
Andre = Succeeds on a Stealth by a hair, takes the pre-emptive negation and heads for the door.
Remy = Blows the Whistle


Lia, Tomas, and Mercator each take 15 Necrotic Damage and lose 1 Healing Surge.

Tomas wrote:"Libschen, is it really a good idea to be openly taunting these fellows while we are in the middle of a sea of them?"

The wraiths caught Lia as she tried to sneak away, playfully shoving her back toward Tomas. It was a nudge, not intended to be hostile, and yet it still sent chills through her body and turned her veins black. Appeased by the pair dancing, the wraiths flew back to their own revelries. Elsewhere the ghosts played a playful game with Nerit, tossing her veil from one to another, waiting for her to draw close and then darting away. One group attempted to strike up a dance with Mercator, with generally poor results for the half-elf.

Agale wrote:"I for one do not believe in coincidence or luck, neither should your motives rely on impulse."

He was given to us, the wraiths hissed, the low, harsh sound audible even when they spoke. He is ours.

A large group of wraiths broke loose to surround Agale, circling him like sharks - and providing a large enough gap in the spirits for someone to sneak through.

Celeste wrote:“If nothing else…Thierri…do so for me."

"I would share such a regret," Thierri admitted, clutching her to him like a drowning man, his thumb still caressing her cheek. The wraiths continued to circle around them, suddenly closer than they had been a moment ago, staring hungrily.

"Mademoiselle," Thierri breathed, gently lifting her face to look her in the eye. "Mademoiselle, you don't know what you're asking. To give you what you seek is to put you into danger. Life is beyond precious, but I am dying, I am lost, I could accomplish so much simply by accepting. Ah, mademoiselle... my mind is clouded, I am losing myself. To risk letting this bloodshed continue, to risk leaving this wrong unrighted, to risk you..." He hugged her tightly, his expression painful in its sincerity. "Celeste, I..."

"I trust you," he whispered, leaning in close.

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It was at this point that two distinctly notable things happened.

Celeste found herself pushed backwards - not politely, but perhaps justified, given what was about to follow - directly toward where Rex was lurking in preparation. She would also discover herself clutching a small black book, bound in leather, which had been slipped into her hands without her or anyone else noticing.

A second later, the wraiths went berserk.

It is ours! the specters screeched, a sound like nails on a chalkboard. The playful dance was over, and they swooped and rushed at you, ripping through the air with the force of a hurricane. Ghostly white creatures cascaded down upon you like the water from a broken dam, seeking to tear you to shreds. You quickly lost sight of the figure in the center, obscured by the thousands of fluttering ghosts. Where they touched, they chilled to the bone, sapping the life and blackening the soul. Every dark emotion you'd felt, every word of anger, every tragic loss and every vile injustice was here within these wraiths. Give it back! Give us back our names! the bird-things wailed.

Lessard frantically gestured to Rex as he ran, flickering in and out of sight as he dodged through the frenzied specters. The professor placed the bone-whistle between his teeth and covered his ears. The sound that issued forth could have been a scream. The shrill noise cut through shrieking of the wraiths and almost deafened you, leaving your ears ringing and your teeth shaking in your heads.

That's the final whistle, now you just need to survive till Gauvain arrives. Acrobatics, Athletics, Endurance, or Stealth to escape the irritated dead. (Depending on whether you are trying to dodge, outrun, just bull on through, or sneak away).

Successes Accumulated
Andre Theroux = 0 Physical Successes, 0 Social Successes
Lia Mournswaithe = 0 Physical Successes, 0 Social Successes
Tomas Eisenwald = 0 Physical Successes, 0 Social Successes
Kerrian Mauganson = 0 Physical Successes, 0 Social Successes
Rex Alistair Prescott = 7 Physical Successes, 0 Social Successes
Mercator Melanchthon = 0 Physical Successes, 1 Social Successes
Mr. Agale = 0 Physical Successes, 0 Social Successes
Nicolas Etienne de Castaigne = 0 Physical Successes, 4 Social Successes
Celeste Viardot = 0 Physical Successes, 6 Social Successes
Sister Nerit Doherty = 0 Physical Successes, 0 Social Successes

dead people wrote:Give it back! Give us back our names! the bird-things wailed.

Arms aloft Nicolas stands in the midst of the chaos, despite the slightly agitated expression on his face, he still manages to be the showman, mockingly addressing the wraiths. "And that ladies and gentlmen is the end of the show, may I thank you all for your kind attentions and bid you all a safe homeward journey, it's been emotional for us all."

Twisting slightly he notes Celeste appears moderatley safe from harm and with the new chap, and Professor Lessard, well well thats an interesting development Nicholas chuckles to himself, impressed by both of their spook skills.

The poet reaches out for Nerit's hand again then drops them both into a bow. "Time to go I believe my dear, may I suggest we....Run!" he whispers urgently using the motion of the bow as a cover for a sprint start away from the howling spirits and provding the nun stays in front of him, towards a point to link up with the others.

Endurance 24 - edited as I forgot the +4 bonus from Kerrian last turn

The wraiths caught Lia as she tried to sneak away, playfully shoving her back toward Tomas. It was a nudge, not intended to be hostile, and yet it still sent chills through her body and turned her veins black.

Hurting someone he cares about while he's right there and can do nothing to stop it is, intentions aside, about the worst thing you can do to Tomas Eisenwald unless you have spent years working on how to be a professional wicked foil. Tomas shoulders forward, and only receives a little pain and chill for his trouble.

"Lia!" Tomas's eyes are weak as he sort of holds on to her shoulders, the pretense of dancing spoiled by the ghostly attack. And then Thierri does his thing, and Tomas finds himself with a sadistic choice. "...Lia." Tomas leans in a little, whispering. "I can hold out a little longer. I'm...not as alive as everyone else, and it confuses them."

This may or may not be a lie; either way, Tomas smiles, weakly, and proceeds to unceremoniously shove Lia through a brief hole in the storm of screaming ghosts, before turning around and stomping his foot, glaring at the ghosts as though they were wayward children who had really and truly pissed daddy off.

Which would be kind of pathetic without the peal of thunder and the flash of lightning that sizzles behind Eisenwald, highlighting his pallid features unpleasantly. "Selfish, grasping wretches...hold, those who would feast on the living!" Tomas pulls his magic sword out of the ground, lightning in his smile and the promise of a storm in his eyes! "Face Eisenwald!"

(Using Divine Challenge to cover Lia, giving her an automatic success. I can use Call of Challange to cover two people next round, so let me know if you are low on health or I'll just go with whoever fails this round.)

Nerit immediately stopped her grab for the veil. Her face became a neutral mask, one indifferent to the materialism of symbolic cloth, for now. She bowed with Nicolas. The ruse was over.

She ran ahead of him with a bent back below the torrent of writhing spirits, but she didn't let go of his hand. Surely he felt it there, even as shadows passed over the two running figures. Yet it seemed every shadow that passed overhead made it hard to see the nun clearly, as if they stuck on her, refusing to leave. And soon the physical touch was all that might lead Nicolas in the same direction as Nerit.

Stealth 28. Don't ask.

Lia staggers, propelled by Tomas. She finds her balance, hears Grimmric's shrieks of terror, feels the pain of having been touched by the undead.

'Foolish,' she hears her own voice whisper ruefully in the back of her head. 'So, so... foolish. So brave. So gallant.'

Lia reaches into her coat pocket and pulls out a metal bottle. The stopper whirls away into the unknown after she wedges her thumb under it and exerts pressure. Lia lifts her veil an inch, brings the flask up under it and tosses its contents down her throat. A curl of fog swirls around her, filled with strange lights, and the black veins recede.

"Now how could I just let you take the limelight all alone, Tomas?" Lia says, her voice a little sad although she is smiling. "Nimbus atrox!" The Mage gestures, and darts of force erupt out of thin air in front of Tomas, wheeling, whining, shredding anything that touches them.
"Come with me, White Knight," Lia urges. "If we can get some distance between us and these wraiths, I can play, too."

That said, Lia unshoulders her staff and starts to run away from the wraiths at full speed. "Everyone, move it!" she yells.

(OOC: Minor Action: Lia uses a Potion of Healing, gets a Healing Surge as minor action, gets back 13 hp.
Standard action: Lia casts Cloud of Daggers in front of Tomas, provides him with minimal shielding.
Move action: Lia beats feet and hopes everyone else does the same so she can launch something big and painful (tm) at the wraiths next time around.)

"This way, Miss."

He'd said "Miss" and not "Mademoiselle" -- perhaps a sign of his Mordentish upbringing.

The pharmacist materialized as Celeste was shoved toward him. He caught her, gently helped her stand, and then took her arm.

"Follow my steps," he said quietly, barely audible over the angry spirits, "Follow me, stay quiet, and keep your wits about you. I shall try to guide you out of here safely."

With that, he led Celeste into the throng, keeping low and dodging behind ghosts and spectres as the two milled through the crowd.

Apologies to Whistler for the brief use of Celeste -- if you'd rather she do something different, by all means! Neo and Isy said Rex's Stealth check can count toward both Rex and Celeste to get them away.

Speaking of, his Stealth is a 24.