The Shattered City: Chapter Four

[Nathan of the FoS]

Judging by Perrine's reaction to this little soliloquy, Dior seems to have rather more information about her past activities than she would like...and she does seem to be be an unusually capable person. Unfortunately for her. And for Mercator's pocketbook.

On the other hand, it does mean that she'll quite possibly be able to help.

And there are the Reniers doing heavens alone know what...giving readings and dispensing medical advice, perhaps.

"A starling list of accomplishments," he says, smiling slightly. "I've heard of none of them, myself, but it does make rather a pretty story. Three hundred nightshades, my fellow's contribution, the deposit...and my services as an astrologer to be put at your disposal."

[NeoTiamat]

1 Days, 22 Hours, 53 Minutes
Century Oak, The Midnight Market, Just past Midnight on April 23rd, 770
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"Young lady, I must not have heard you correctly. Where did you say they went?"

“Young?” Bertram said, looking from Tomas to Bertriz and back. The white-haired Renier began to snicker. “That was either the oddest compliment I've ever heard, or Eisenwald actually thinks you're younger than him.”

“Just because you're a boor, brother dearest, doesn't mean all men are.” Bertriz said with a rather thoughtful look at Tomas. A rather appraising kind of look, as a matter of fact. “There are worse things than to be called young by a handsome young man.”

Remy patted Tomas on the shoulder. His look quite clearly said, better you than me, friend.

“I never thought you the sort to support schoolgirl fantasies, sister dearest.” Bertram said, still laughing.

“I should have smothered you when we were children.” Bertriz commented idly. She chewed on a fingernail daintily, casting Tomas a smoldering look. “Dr. Melanchthon, Nicolas de Castaigne, and the swordswoman left for Armand Dior's stand not long ago. One of Dior's stock came down with something or other and he had need of a doctor.”

1 Days, 22 Hours, 53 Minutes
Dior's Stand, The Midnight Market, Just past Midnight on April 23rd, 770
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"A starling list of accomplishments," he says, smiling slightly. "I've heard of none of them, myself, but it does make rather a pretty story. Three hundred nightshades, my fellow's contribution, the deposit...and my services as an astrologer to be put at your disposal."

“Perrine is talented.” M. Armand Dior said with a small smile. “And though my better judgment says that I am a fool... I'll take your offer.”

“Three hundred nightshades from Dr. Melanchthon, three hundred nightshades from your colleague, the return of my deposit of two coronas, and your services as an astrologer for the duration of the next twelve Market periods.” Dior said. In many ways, he had just repeated what Mercator had just said. And yet, not completely. “Perrine to be turned over to you upon my receipt of the monetary component. Have we a deal?”

Dior stuck his hand out. A simple handshake deal, it seemed. Save that this was the Midnight Market, and no deal here could be truthfully called simple. The penalties of non-payment or cheating were liable to be... excruciating.

[Nathan of the FoS]

"I am delighted to see that we are near an agreement," Mercator says, bowing slightly but making no motion to shake on the deal. "Eight hundred solars or the equivalent in hard money, as described; twelve questions or scenarios analyzed by both the Hazlani and Darkonian methods, incorporating solar, lunar and astral factors, to be used within the next three years at most; and the young lady leaves with us now. You will have my part of the money when the Market next meets."

So saying, he raises his own hand to be shaken.

[NeoTiamat]

1 Days, 22 Hours, 52 Minutes
Dior's Stand, The Midnight Market, Just past Midnight on April 23rd, 770
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“Done. I shall be here tomorrow then.” Dior said simply, taking Mercator's hand. He had a firm handshake. The slaver withdrew his hand after a moment and glanced at Perrine. “Do you need any accessories to help keep order, or will you be taking Perrine under your wing just as she is?”

[Nathan of the FoS]

"That won't be necessary," Mercator replies. "Until tomorrow night, then. Mademoiselle?" he says, turning to Perrine and offering her his hand, "do you feel up to walking a bit?"

[The Whistler]

"Whatever he represents seems objectionable to some of the fey."

"All the more reason to rescue our friend from his present distress--as if we required aught more to spur us to that noble effort! We would not wish the good Mlle. Halvari and her compatriots to be discomposed, Madame Professor.

The undertone behind this statement was not "we don't want the fey to develop a life-threatening vendetta against us", but "we don't want this sprightly young faerie maiden and her friends to be sad anymore", Celeste having mentally pronounced Inky to be incurably adorable as of earlier in the conversation. There followed a lot of sympathetic expressions in Mlle. Halvari's direction.

"Oh dear... oh no... not without their permission. Even in the best of times we would rarely deal with the triarchs, no more than a peasant would a king. And now... oh dear... They are very angry and worried, with the Lady of Winter dead. They could be next. They trust no one. No, I -- I mustn't."

"Oh, you mustn't put yourself out, gentle mademoiselle, surely you mustn't! We shall forsake the line of inquiry entirely--rather, I shall fetch our medical associate Dr. Melanchthon posthaste, that we may more directly address the task at hand. ...Perhaps M. Agale may comfort you in the meanwhile? There's a dear! I shall return presently--Ta-ta!"

And with that, Celeste was somehow off to the Century Oak twenty seconds ago. Man, but she could move fast.

Feel free to follow if you'd like! I figure I may as well meet everyone back at base.

[yalenusveler]

Kerrian gave Inky a slightly apologetic look, mouthing "She's like that sometimes" after he was sure that Celeste was gone. She was nice but sometimes her exuberance could be overwhelming.

"I don't mean to pry..but do you have any idea how this all was possible? I mean, has anything similar ever happened, or are we dealing with completely new territory ?" Kerrian asked, trying to get back on topic, and not worry so much about the possibility of Celeste drinking poison to contact Thierri.

"Also...do you know about any creepy big things lurking in the catacombs that might try to attack a spirit form?" The last question...definitely off topic, but possibly important.

[lostboy]

“Do you need any accessories to help keep order, or will you be taking Perrine under your wing just as she is?”

Nicolas favours Dior with a frosty smile, ignoring the handshake entirely as he finishes his cigarette. "I would hope we can manage Monsieur, adieu until tomorrow."

"Now carefully ma chere." He says carefully helping Perrine from the bed.

[DocBeard]

Tomas sort of realizes, oh. He was always seeing them in masks and stuff, and had just assumed they were Christophe's age. oops.

"Sorry." Tomas coughs, rubbing the back of his head and looking sheepish. "Spend too much time around teachers, I guess." He is not entirely used to people looking at him like that, and 'schoolgirl fantasies' doesn't exactly help.

Wasn't he angry about something. Right. Right! Dior! "I see. Thank you." Tomas says as politely as he can manage, disapproving of these circumstances so completely that he seems a bit like a pile of dry wood waiting for some spark to turn it into a proper tragedy. "No point in losing my top until I know just out hard its going to be to keep from shortening the little weasel's lifespan."

The prospect of beating the crap out of the forces of evil, even if only hypothetical, seems to perk Tomas back up, and he cracks his knuckles loudly. "I mean, its not like they're going to come back having bought a fresh kidney or a slave or something. That'd be crazy!"

[NeoTiamat]

1 Days, 22 Hours, 45 Minutes
Century Oak, The Midnight Market, Just past Midnight on April 23rd, 770
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The prospect of beating the crap out of the forces of evil, even if only hypothetical, seems to perk Tomas back up, and he cracks his knuckles loudly. "I mean, its not like they're going to come back having bought a fresh kidney or a slave or something. That'd be crazy!"

“...Funny that you mention that.” Bertram Renier said, pointing down the way.

Mercator Melanchthon led the way, and immediately behind him were Katja and Nicolas. All of this was expected. The fourth member of the little party was less expected.

She walked between Katja and Nicolas, occasionally leaning on the latter. She was perhaps eighteen, nineteen years of age, but with that kind of street-born frame that made her look younger than her age. Neither tall nor short, just somehow average in height. Her face was framed by curly, brown hair which reached her chin, and there was a dusting of freckles along her nose and beneath her eyes. Rather serious dark eyes, on the whole.

At the moment she was wearing a shirt and pants, a brown coat around her shoulders. She was holding her left arm gingerly, the whole arm from elbow to wrist wrapped in gauzy cloth. She did not look well.

1 Days, 22 Hours, 45 Minutes
Inky's Emporium, The Midnight Market, Just past Midnight on April 23rd, 770
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"I don't mean to pry..but do you have any idea how this all was possible?"

"It isn't possible," Inky protested, upset. That probably counted as a "no".

Professor Petrik sniffed.

"Also...do you know about any creepy big things lurking in the catacombs that might try to attack a spirit form?"

"Anything that can attack a spirit form," was all Inky could offer. "I do not go into the catacombs. It's quite terrible down there."

[Nathan of the FoS]

Mercator slows to observe the progress of this fourth person with a critical eye, then nods, apparently satisfied by what he sees. Addressing all three of his companions, he says, "Mesdemoiselles, monsieur, you might perhaps see if we can find something warmer for Mademoiselle Perrine to wear...and somewhere you can sleep, mademoiselle. Rest is the best restorative in many cases, and an important part of all of them." Nodding politely to the group, he says, "Professors, monsieur, mesdemoiselles. I hope your business has gone satisfactorily? Monsieur and mademoiselle Renier, did anyone call?"

[lostboy]

Nicolas takes off his own coat, and lays it over one of the chairs doing his best to make it as comfortable as a coat over a folding chair can possibly be. "Mademoiselle, please sit and relax for a moment. I need to confer with my colleagues but I am certain we will get you somewhere warmer and more comfortable very soon."

"Coats, gentlemen if you will ?" He asks looking at Tomas, Remy and Bertram "the lady is in need".

[DocBeard]

Tomas has taken his coat off; it makes him look a bit more menacing, as his breastplate and sword now have nothing covering them, but fortunately the bright green scarf offsets that a bit.

"Be careful with the second pocket on the left." Tomas offers, distracted by the sheer improbability of this event. "I think whatever's stuck in there is still combustible."

Tomas turns back to the unlikely flesh traders, sort of making a 'what in the nine hells?!' motion before something else catches his ear. "Wait, wait, not that Perrine?!"

[lostboy]

"He's not kidding you know, I wouldn't go delving in there" Nicolas says with a theatrical aside to Perrine and a wink, trying to put the girl at ease in front of the towering Lamordian.

"Wait, wait, not that Perrine?!"

"Yes Tomas, that Perrine" Nicolas says guiding him away from the girl. "What, you think Id have just gone ahead and done something incredibly foolish and impulsive just for kicks, why its like you don't know me at all..."

He's smiling as he continues "Katja alerted us to her identity, and Monsieur Melancthon and I negotiated her release form Dior's grasp. She's wounded and sick, and begged for our help, I suspect I wouldn't have turned her down regardless of who she is."

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"Well, well, well," Lia says as she saunters over to Perrine. "Talking to the Alchemist was basically a bust, unless someone wants to go back and buy an expensive potion to boost our friend's stamina during the exertions we are expecting to subject him to. It is good to see that you were more successful than we were."

The Mage looks down on the thief with a crooked little smile, then sticks a hand into her pocket and brings out... a piece of jerked beef and a small, metal flask. "Hungry?" she asks. "Thirsty? I warn you, though, I put Barovian red in the bottle." Regardless whether Perrine accepts or not, Lia asks: "As a point of interest. Does that meat-merchant keep children in his stock, or is it all adults?"