Café de Nuit

Lia's expression does not change even a little. "I will have the agreement, or at least the acquiescence of all involved, or I will not perform," she says in a tone that brooks no disagreement. "And I will mention no names until I have what I require."

M. Eisenwald wrote:"Celeste." Tomas murmurs, for the first time since he left the farmhouse. "Is it rude, in polite society, to remove an artichoke when it is thrown in one's face?" It is difficult, keeping one's dignity with a fat green vegetable lodged on one's nose. "I do not wish to offend anyone's sensibilities."

“Ah…were it a cocoanut, one might be considered mildly ungracious—certain quarters of Sri Raji, you understand. As it is an artichoke, however, I should think you entirely within your rights to remove it.” Celeste’s comment was sotto voce, and straight-faced enough that you couldn’t tell whether or not she was being sincere. Regardless, she handed Tomas a napkin, with sympathy.

M. Boucher wrote:"I am upstaged," he said, as the other man raised an eyebrow at him. "I am outdone."

Celeste weaved her way through the crowd to the magician, evidently prioritizing her greetings—she was obviously going to be talking with Mme. Loiseau for a certain length of time by default, so it seemed a good idea to target the one she had actually come to see.

“But is it necessary to outperform such a grand display, M. Boucher? One would do better to partition out the adulation of the crowd by lengths, that no performer miss their share. Perhaps you may be scheduled for...ah, but raillery is hardly to my purpose!” Celeste’s expression went from playful to more sincere; she obviously noticed the magician’s haggard condition, but was too polite to embarrass him with an overt display of concern.

“I had better say ‘Good Morning, M. Boucher’, so that you might respond with ‘Good Morning, Mlle. Viardot’. Matters do often progress pleasantly from there!”

She turned to the man beside Thierri, curious. “But first, you shall have to introduce me to your colleague. Good morning to you as well, monsieur!”

"Then you will not perform," Cyrus stood up straight. "Whatever this involves, it sounds like a matter and a being better left alone."

The dommer leveled a sharp gaze on Lia. "My brother and I will take no part in this." There was something in his voice that suggested a deeper reason than just being contrary. It seemed he had a more personal stake in this.

"I've got to agree with Cyrus" came from Kerrian's mouth, a series of words that were rather unlikely under most circumstances, but then again illness did funny things to people. Either way, Kerrian was absently now trying to eat some eggs, taking each bite as if his stomach was about to profoundly decide this was a terrible crime for which he must be punished.

"It sounds like where we could end up paying exactly what we should, but that turns out to be too much. Does anyone remember seeing a mask around Mme Chastel's room? " It was an odd question, but Kerrian seemed to be full of them at times.

"I read in a book I borrowed from Cerise about a tradition kind of like mine, that believed when you put on a mask you became the mask in a spiritual sense. If she had chosen a mask associated with mortality or death for the evening, her own death by the Sword might have had unintended symbolic power that the group didn't take into account." Kerrian picked a bit more at his eggs.

"It's only theory though.."

Boucher Farmhouse; Morning of April 22nd, 770
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Kerrian wrote:"Does anyone remember seeing a mask around Mme Chastel's room? " It was an odd question, but Kerrian seemed to be full of them at times.

"I..." Katja began, then stopped. Her brow furrowed in concentration, she tried to cast her memory back to that mad night, for all that it was not much more than a month distant. "There was no mask that I saw. There were many of those little dolls, however."

Nicolas wrote:The poet does listen intently, then in a low voice so Mme. Boucher doesnt hear he asks Kerrian,"this is an odd question, but is this plague likely to be fatal, or can it be fatal if death is gone, if so then where the hell are you, the Dommer, Phillipe, Eisenwald and I transcending to?"

"You can die." Katja pointed out bluntly. "Death still can happen, whatever others say. The girl died."

Nicolas wrote:"And why are only some of us ill? That would be somethign I would like to know, if it was just the Dommer and I then I would argue it was due to the night of madness, and that the rest of you were protected somehow. Yet now more are sick and some who fought in close quarters with the hounds are not. How are those sickened chosen?" Nicolas leaves the querstion hanging in the air.

"Maybe some people just don't get sick as easily?" Christophe suggested, finally getting around to making breakfast for himself now. He flipped another piece of toast. "I mean, I've never been sick a day in my life, not even after I fell into the Musarde that one time when I was a boy. But Bertram gets pneumonia regular as clockwork, every year in the late fall. Bertriz says he has weak lungs."

Kerrian wrote:"I've got to agree with Cyrus" came from Kerrian's mouth, a series of words that were rather unlikely under most circumstances, but then again illness did funny things to people. "It sounds like where we could end up paying exactly what we should, but that turns out to be too much."

Lia wrote:"I will have the agreement, or at least the acquiescence of all involved, or I will not perform," Lia says in a tone that brooks no disagreement. "And I will mention no names until I have what I require."

"Then you will not have it." Katja said quietly. The swordswoman examined the firing mechanism of her crossbow and then took out a small bottle of oil. "An uncertain person who you will not name, with a nature which you will not say, who may claim a cost we do not know, which will be paid by whom we do not know. You ask too much of us."

"Might I offer an alternative?" Christophe said. The broad-shouldered young man was staring off at an obscure corner of the room with a very intent look. It wasn't that the corner of the room was terribly interesting. Christophe just really didn't want to make eye contact with anyone right now. "I... might know a man... who knows a man... who knows a man who might be able to help find the Grave Weirds."

"I'd have to talk to Bertriz first. And probably Felise too." Christophe said, lowering his eyes again. "But... I can try and see if he'll help."

Duclos Farm; Close to Midnight of April 21st, 770
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Celeste wrote:“I had better say ‘Good Morning, M. Boucher’, so that you might respond with ‘Good Morning, Mlle. Viardot’. Matters do often progress pleasantly from there!”

She turned to the man beside Thierri, curious. “But first, you shall have to introduce me to your colleague. Good morning to you as well, monsieur!”

"It most certainly is not," the dark-suited man said cantankerously. "This is atrocious."

"This is amazing," Thierri said. It was hard to tell if this was an agreement or not. "I shall defy etiquette by wishing you well before introductions, mademoiselle; I shall not let etiquette think I am so easy to win over. Good morning, Mademoiselle. Good morning, Eisenwald." He gave a sly smile. "As for my 'colleague', you give me too much credit. I am still just a student, though I hope my observations may be of use to him. He and I have just met presently."

"Doctor Jonathan Linden, formerly of Paridon," the man introduced, tipping his hat to Celeste. "Unfortunately charged with following in Madame Loiseau's wake... wakes, if she keeps this up. Does she understand anything about transmissible disease? An.. an entire army of chefs into a potential plague zone?!" The self-proclaimed Jonathan made a noise that sounded like he was trying to scream while keeping his mouth shut.

"We are lucky in that regard. The disease has so far not proven transmissable by normal means, though that does not mean it cannot be," Thierri said, frowning and pulling out a cigarette. He suddenly looked up at Tomas. "However, this is not known or believed by many in the country. Mademoiselle, messieurs, with your leave, if we could adjourn to somewhere less populated to continue speaking?"

"Anywhere but here..." Doctor Linden agreed, before also looking at Tomas. "Egads, man, are you well?" he asked, reaching for a handkerchief.

Lia looks from Kerrian... to Cyrus... to Katja. Then she smiles at Cyrus. It is not a nice expression at all. "You say that as if you expect me to regret the lack, puer protervus." She glances at Katja and Kerrian. "I did mention that only the seriousness of the situation made me mention this possibility at all. It is probably best not to call on this contact. I do not intend to offer to call on him again. Should you grow desperate for confirmation, I will leave it up to you to ask. As for finding the Grave Weirds... Suppose I try charming up a more standard earth elemental to ferret them out for us?"

Christophe wrote:"Maybe some people just don't get sick as easily?" Christophe suggested,

"Occams razor to a 'T' mon ami" Nicholas says raising his cup to Christophe before takign another painful swallow. "And as our prognosis is so uplifting" this time the cup is raised towards Katja "hell I'm game for anything on my part. By all means ask whoeveer you wish to get involved but lets agree and do something for mists sake, sitting around waiting for eternity to come knocking is not my idea of fun."

He finishes a cup of the conconcotion and looks around "Speakign of which anyone fancy a trip to the graveyard now the sun is with us?"

Paridon. Now THERE is a city, Tomas thinks, the odd lightheadedness that accompanies the sickness leaving him less focused than usual(which is something of an accomplishment.) The etiquette wordplay goes entirely over Tomas's head.

He does come to in time to hold his hand up, covering his mouth with his own handkerchief. "...artichokes don't agree with me." Tomas says, though it comes out more like 'mmmph mm mmmph mmm.'. A wipe later, and Eisenwald is recovered enough to say, "Good morning, Doctor. Tomas Eisenwald."

"If you two would forgive my lack of manners, I need a private word with Thierri. Got knocked on the head a few times last night, and I fear I may have said something all together out of character." Tomas has the decency to look a bit ashamed of himself.

Cyrus showed no indication of noticing Lia's barb. In fact, he just looked past her as if her existence ceased.

"If you think it will be useful," he said to Christophe, "then let us pursue that lead."

The Hazlani glanced his brother over one more time and then went into the kitchen for breakfast.

"We should wait for the others to return, however," Lia notes. "No sense in going off and getting slaughtered for lack of manpower. We face three of the blasted Weirds, one ghosts and who knows how much support personnel."

"Perhaps we should take this time and compare notes," Cyrus offered, "What works well, what does not. For example, I noticed the Lawgiver's light was particularly effective. That magic circle also worked. What else should be known about these things? If we can be more prepared the next time, it will make our battle easier."

Dr. Linden wrote:"Doctor Jonathan Linden, formerly of Paridon."

"Celeste Mirielle Viardot, of Bienassis--and lately of the lovely Chateau Malchance, in Port-a-Lucine. It does make for a pleasant selection of new friends, Dr. Linden! That is, if M. Boucher is any indication."

Dr. Linden wrote:""Unfortunately charged with following in Madame Loiseau's wake... wakes, if she keeps this up."

"Ah, you have been commissioned by the good lady, then? Or do you come of your own accord? In either case, it is an admirably charitable impulse! One may question the methods by which one assists a village in distress, but surely it is the thought that must be valued most--though of course, thought is all the more powerful when bolstered by the proper expertise!"

Celeste looked out over the various preparations going on in the square. It struck you that this was a particularly diplomatic answer, though Mlle. Viardot probably saw considerable value in both modern medicine and cocktail parties.

M. Boucher wrote:"Mademoiselle, messieurs, with your leave, if we could adjourn to somewhere less populated to continue speaking?"

"Certainly! I am sure that Mlle. Loiseau shall be more than happy to converse with us when she is not so engaged with her work; I should be loath to interrupt her concentration!" Again, not certain whether she was being serious or not.

Kaitou Kage wrote:"Perhaps we should take this time and compare notes," Cyrus offered, "What works well, what does not. For example, I noticed the Lawgiver's light was particularly effective. That magic circle also worked. What else should be known about these things? If we can be more prepared the next time, it will make our battle easier."

"Any offense based on the energies of the light will hurt them, not just that of your Lawgiver," Lia says. "Each Weird has a resistance to different elemental forces, but all fear the power of light." She muses for a moment, then continues: "They can detect approaching creatures by reading vibrations out to as far as fifty feet, possibly further. It is best not to be surprised by them; it allows them to deal worse harm to you if they get the drop on you. You have been exposed to their aura and their breath. Try to avoid those, for your own sake.
All in all, I would say that they are an enemy best attacked and destroyed from a distance. I can raise a circle like Boucher's, but it takes several minutes to perform the ritual. If there is a way to cut down the time required, I have not heard of it recently."

(OOC: They don't like Radiant, have that whole grasping corpses aura, tremorsense and the breath weapons.)

"Try not to let your enemy surprise you. Try not to let your enemy get close to you. Try not to let your enemy harm you. "

Darius raises an eyebrow, and says sardonically, "Admirable. Let us assume, for the present, that somehow, at some point, something goes wrong. For the first point: As long as mademoiselle Zweibach is present, we might conceivably escape being surprised. If she were not present, we might have...two seconds' warning? At most. For the second: Given that we cannot fly, and they can sense us above them, the second is impossible. As we saw, we cannot even keep them close to us, if they want to be gone. The advantages of mobility are all on their side. It is conceivable that we will succeed in keeping some of them away from some of us; we were fairly successful at this in our first encounter, I think, greatly aided by monsieur Boucher's ward. For the third point: They can force the encounter, and close with us when they choose to. Under these circumstances it is quite impossible to 'avoid these, for our own sakes' or anyone else's.

"What we need, if it is possible, is a way to detect their presence and a way to limit their mobility. If they cannot be had..."

Darius falls silently, rubbing his thumb across his fingers, as he thinks about the next encounter.

"Boucher and I can limit their mobility," Lia replies, bestowing her Sybilline gaze on Darius. "The wards are areas they may not enter. But the problem is that creating a ward takes time. More time than a battle usually takes. But they could be prepared as fallback areas, or as staging grounds from which ranged attacks may be fired in relative safety. Of course the downside is that creatures which are not undead could enter those areas freely, and we should assume at least some of Poincare's living lackeys to be in the area, yes? Strategy is always tricky."