Café de Nuit

"I'm going to stay here as well." Kerrian said, somewhat glad their invisible "ally" was apparently gone. "Inkeri's magics are a lot like mine, she might be able to help me get a better location on things, specifically the last breath. Because knowing someone who can get us to it...really doesn't help if we don't know where to look." Kerrian then made his way over to Tomas, and quietly asked.

"Are you ok? What did you try to do? Is everything ok?"

OOC:History of 9. Yeeeeeeeah, no

Nicolas squints a little as he watches the place the voice roughly seemed to come from, something obviously had clicked into place in the poets mind on those last words, something important....

Mercator wrote:I will make certain preparations for locating the Fire rune and go to look for it tomorrow morning; if anyone would like to join me, he or she would be welcome."

"Aye I'll stay with you Monsieur, I need to see a certain revolutionary before we depart anyway" the last is added in a mutter as he snaps out of his reverie. "But I'm more than happy to join you tomorrow in the search for fire, no-one should be wandering the Quartier Ouvrier alone, and hand on heart I promise no mroe ridiculous charades.."

"Professor can you take charge of the young lady for now?" He asks approaching Remy, then taking him to one side he adds in a whisper "keep an eye on her if you can, Dior implied her talents were rather shadowy in nature and whilst she is not our prisoner I would hate to see her abscond before she is better, and we have the chance for a friendly chat..."

History: 31

"Well, then," Rex said, "I'm glad that's settled."

The man had been there the whole time but had a good knack for staying quiet. It was quite a contrast to the previous roommate that had a penchant for loudly running his mouth. Whatever he thought about the Friend, he studiously kept to himself.

The pharmacist nodded very briefly to Tomas. Acknowledgement and perhaps a flicker of thanks danced through his green eyes, and then he turned to the group at large.

"Shall we?" he asked, and then glanced to Mercator and his newfound entourage of Nic, Kerrian, and the others, "Do not dally too long. You will need rest before the search begins and we have fewer than two days if my count is correct."

History 23

"Wait" Nicolas says holding up one hand and abruptly changing tack to address Rex and the others about to depart. "Umm who here has had the pleasure of visiting Graben? Herr Eisenwald I think perhaps you mentioned it? I only ask as it just occurred to me that our friend or perhaps I should correctly name him as he did Your Friend would seem to have been or at least speaks the language. Ring any bells anyone?"

OOC: Yep "Ykkarr Vinr" is Grabenite for "Your Friend"

"Graben again?" Lia asks in a sharp tone of voice. "First that boatman who was so helpful at the harbour, now this complete unknown? I like this not. No. I am going to go directly to the location of the Dust rune, regardless what this 'Friend' is doing. I will see what I can do. If there is nothing, and no way to determine whether the 'Friend' has come and gone, I will rejoin you at a location of your choosing."

(OOC: History check: 21.)

Nerit grimaced, but this time she did not roll her eyes. She exhaled through her nose and stood alongside Rex. "He merely means Goodman Eric Finnsen is Grabenite," the nun said brusquely and turned away, ready to depart.

Rock wrote:"Graben again?" Lia asks in a sharp tone of voice. "First that boatman who was so helpful at the harbour, now this complete unknown? I like this not. No. I am going to go directly to the location of the Dust rune, regardless what this 'Friend' is doing. I will see what I can do. If there is nothing, and no way to determine whether the 'Friend' has come and gone, I will rejoin you at a location of your choosing."

"I do not think it is a question of liking, so much as a question of capabilities," Mercator says, frowning slightly. "If I recall...Mlle. Blackwood, might I look at the map again? Thank you...Yes. The rune in question landed at the Hospice of Hala and then bounced out of the circle, ending in no-man's-land beyond the city walls. Given what little we know of the place, I am inclined to guess that it is not accessible by mundane means, or mundane persons. You must judge for yourself, of course, but I think it likely your efforts will be better spent if turned in another direction."

1 Days, 20 Hours, 54 Minutes
Century Oak, The Midnight Market, Just past Midnight on April 23rd, 770
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“Katja and I can go look for the Ash rune. Paul can help us find Chastel's ashes if I ask him really nicely.” Cerise said with a quick grin.

“Paul?” Katja said mildly, collecting her various arms and armaments in prepartion for a hike to the city morgue.

“Old boyfriend. We dated for a few months, two years ago.” Cerise said cheerily. “I still have that little elephant sculpture he made for me instead of a real Hand of Glory.”

“Well then.” Prof. Lessard said. “I think the rest of us will be heading home? It would be better if the Blackwoods aren't wandering around tonight very much. And Perrine needs rest.”

“And my ineffable Seiglinde and I have classes come morning.” Lemercier said. “So we shall stay at the Chateau and ensure the security of our wounded comrades.”

“We'll stay here.” Bertriz Renier said. She smiled daintily. “Someone has to mind the store, after all.”

“Then it would seem we have our marching orders.” Remy said. “Let's try and meet for lunch at the Chateau tomorrow to touch bases.”


1 Days, 17 Hours, 43 Minutes
Carnival Game Booths, The Midnight Market, Early Morning on April 23rd, 770
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"Well we struck that whale and the line played out
But she gave a flunder with her tail
And the boat capsized and four men were drowned
And we never caught that whale,
We never caught that whale."

The Carnival Game Booths were lined up along a side street, each one painted with bright colors and bold letters. They were empty, currently, devoid of the crowds and the carnival barkers. A few hushed customers, cloaked and veiled, gathered in clusters in here and there. Even so, this section of the market seemed livelier than the others. Someone, completely ignorant of the social convention to keep the volume down and not draw attention, was singing a lively sea shanty in a pleasant baritone voice. Eric Finnsen was sitting at a booth littered with scrimshaw and pearls, odds and ends from old shipwrecks. The man carved deeply into a piece of wood as he sang, whittling a rough shape and tossing the shavings aside.

"Oh, to lose that whale, my captain cried,
It grieves my heart full sore
But to lose four of my gallant men
It grieves me ten times more, brave boys,
It grieves me ten times more!"

The man looked up as you approached, flashing his perfect pearly smile. His sparkling black eyes lit up with recognition at Kerrian's face.

"Oho! One of the midnight sightseers returns!" The boatman grinned, standing up and sweeping his arms in welcome. "Out sightseeing again, tonight? Welcome! What can I do fhor you?"




1 Days, 17 Hours, 43 Minutes
The Midnight Market, Early Morning on April 23rd, 770
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Athene found Nicolas, and not the other way around. The revolutionary looked a little different now than when she'd brought 'Benoit' to the Market. She was always tense, but now there was a strange glittering in her eye, and her words came faster, almost breathless. Athene had stalked from behind two stalls as Nicolas walked past, her predatory mien ensuring that no one jostled her in the crowd. The folk of the Midnight Market knew Athene, and held her in wary respect.

“Good, I found you. Market will be shutting down in an hour or so. Hope you found what you wanted.” This last was said in a tone of mere well-wishing. Athene knew far better than to ask the famed Benoit what he had been doing at the Midnight Market. Even if it hadn't been Benoit, it would have just been bad etiquette. “I've had a good night.”

“I'm ready to call in my favor.” Athene said with a sudden, hungry grin. Her eyes met Nicolas's, and she leaned forward, half-eager, half-flirtatious. “I've been hired to do another job by a very good client. Problem is, the revolutionary friends I'd get to help me with the big jobs aren't interested in this one. Not their style. But if Guy Benoit asked them to strike a blow against the tyranny of the Lords... they'd do it.”

Athene stood there, leaning against the storefront and waiting for Nicolas's answer. A big, muscled woman, a hardened killer who made even the denizens of this place wary. A young woman with a broad smile, eagerly waiting for Nicolas's words. A creature with eyes that flashed in the darkness, waiting. Athene stood there, killer, enthusiast, and creature, and waited for his response.

At which point things suddenly became markedly worse for Nicolas, as he spotted Bertram Renier in the crowd, collecting a small, black box from a merchant and now bearing down on Nicolas with good cheer and loose tongue.



1 Days, 17 Hours, 43 Minutes
The Hospice of the White Dove, Quartier Ouvrier, Early Morning on April 23rd, 770
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This was the fact of the coming of the wraiths, of the coming of Thierri Boucher. Of the coming of Death. It left no marks.

There were no scorch marks, as would be from fire. No broken windows. The walls were unscarred, the doors closed and mostly locked. There were no corpses laying about, nor was there any particular smell to the place, neither the coppery stink of blood, nor the sickly-sweet smell of decaying flesh. As a practical matter, it just looked like an old, brick building.

It was, however, deathly quiet, and very, very empty. It was also locked.





1 Days, 17 Hours, 43 Minutes
The Chateau Malchance, Early Morning on April 23rd, 770
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The Chateau was dark when you returned, dark and quiet. Perrine shuddered despite herself, wrapped in blankets from the cold and huddled against Alice. The elder Blackwood lent her shoulder to the young woman - barely more than a girl - as her brother adjusted the wooden boxes under his arm and kept a concerned eye on her. Lessard approached the door set his hand upon it, when you thought you felt something big and black fly overhead.

The pale professor opened the door, slightly quicker than usual, and held it for all of you. The two Blackwoods helped Perrine over to a couch, Alice extricating herself to put on a kettle of tea. As the last of you walked through the door, you could hear the crunch of footsteps walking up the street. A pair of gendarmes emerged from the inky blackness, flanking the unmistakable form of Gauvain.

"Curious to what we've accomplished, no doubt," Lessard murmured quietly. "He does seem serious about this. I'll fill him in, I suppose, while you get some rest. Unless somebody else really wants to talk to him instead."

He held the door open for a moment longer, as an invitation to anyone interested, then gently closed the door.

"I shall assist you in that particular endeavor then Professor. Best not to give the Commissioner any notions that we are anything but compliant." Agale broke away from the main party to intercept the approaching gendarme.

"Good evening Inspector! It seems a recurrence your arrival at our humble abode at unusual hours looks to become nothing short of routine at this rate.

I hope your evenings investigations go well. Ours this night has borne some fruit in deciphering the riddle that is now Mr. Boucher. Unfortunately, a veritable scavenger hunt of preliminary steps remain to be accomplished before our mutual goal can be achieved. As we speak, our forces are being rallied and divided to conquer this next impediment, though I think, if you would be so inclined, One of those very tasks might be particularly suited to your own unique talents where any of our number would falter. In the vicinity of the Hospice of Hala lies a place sentimental to the late M. Chastel. Within, if our fairly paid if not entirely trustable source in the market is to be believed, is a 'gift' of some sort with ties to the matter at hand.

He leans in conspiratorily. "Up your alley in particular Inspector as some sort of creature of eldritch origin did eavesdrop upon us, and claimed to intend to penetrate this location itself. I need not explain that strange creatures offering assistance without due payment is recipe for trouble."

While his explanatory diatribe proceeds, the Tollere's feet come to a drifting stop in front of the doorstep, forcing Gauvin to either grant the rest of the lodgers respite from the Commissioner's usual ire or risk missing a portion of expository discourse.

Bluff to Bamboozle
18, Rerolled using Fast Talk.. for another 18

"Hmmm," Lia hums to herself, musing, as she regards the hospice. "I am sorry, my friend," she whispers to Grimmric, raising one hand to stroke the bat's back through the locks of hair he hides under, "but I am going to have to take liberties with what would have been your dinner."

From an inner pocket, Lia produces a small, cardboard box that rattles and twitches. Very carefully, the Mage allows it to open at a crack, one hand poised to seize its contents before they can escape. First to make its way out of the box is a rather large fly, fat and glistening green. Lia snatches the insect before it can get away, returns the rattling box to its hiding place and produces a thread.

Lips pursed in some distaste, Lia manages to immobilize the fly between thumb and forefinger long enough to loop the thin thread around its cephalotorax. A muttered cantrip, and the rope ties itself in a firm knot around the struggling insect's body. "Honestly, I feel like a mean-spirited little boy," the Mage sighs as she releases the fly from between her fingers, but holds onto the end of the string, tying it to her belt. "But I don't suppose you'll rip off your own abdomen the way you would your leg, monsieur mouche."

"Eat / think-no / eat," Grimmric chitters. "Think-no / eat?"

"I have some other tasties left for you, dear friend," Lia assures the bat. "Please keep eyes and ears open for now, however, food must come later. Monsieur mouche is... our personal cole mine canarie." Lia blows at the buzzing fly, urging it ahead of her, and subjects it to a critical look. "You see, dear one," she explains to Grimmric, "if monsieur mouche suddenly drops dead for no reason, then I will know we have come to the right place. But for now..."

Lia regards the locked door with a critical eye and mutters under her breath. (OOC: Arcana check of 31 to check for magical locks, traps and other residues. If there is nothing, she proceeds with the ritual. If not, I'd like to make some changes...)

After completing her sweep of the doors, Lia strokes Grimmric's back again. "Up, and into the sky, my friend," she says. "Keep watch for me, warn me if anyone comes close enough to see what I am doing. This magic is illegal no, more's the pity. Return when I am finished; it should only take a few minutes."

As Grimmric sets off on whirring wings, Lia uses her staff to draw three concentric circles in front of the door. In the center of the innermost circle, she sets down three runes: Laguz. Isa. Ansuz. In the second circle, she scratches the glyph for Magic. In the third, the marks for Door.

"Hear and attend," the Mage says while she lifts her staff to eye-height, held horizontal,
"Attend and obey.
I stand in the centre,
My Name marks the centre.
The Name is the Thing,
Name and Thing are the same.
The thing is the Essence,
The Essence fills the Thing in all aspects,
The Name is the Thing.
The Essence is the Thing.
The Name is the Essence.

I stand in the centre,
The centre is mine.
From the centre springs the Essence,
The Essence fills the Thing in all aspects.
The Essence has many Faces,
The Faces are the Masks of the Essence,
The Thing is the Mask,
The Essence fills all Masks.
All Masks are the same.
Hear and attend. Attend and obey.

I stand in the centre.
My Name is in the centre.
The Essence wells from the centre.
The Essence bears my name.
My Name bears a Mask.
The Essence bears a Mask.
Our Mask is the Magic.
Magic is our Name.
Hear and attend. Attend and obey.
Magic is our Name.
Magic is the Essence.
The Essence fills the Thing in all aspects."

Lia lets go of the staff, which continues to hover in mid-air while she withdraws a ceremonial rattle and a small, leaden box from her inside pockets. Lia shakes the rattle a prescribed number of times, then opens the box and withdraws a handful of alchemical dust, which she sprinkles over the three circles. The dust catches fire and glows like the romantic glow of amorous fireflies, drifting over the three circles to the door.

"Hear and attend. Attend and obey.
The Essence fills the Thing in all aspects.
Magic is the Essence.
The Magic bears my Name.
The Essence bears my Name.
The Thing bears my Name.
The Name is the Thing.
The Name is my Name.
By Magic my Will does rule.
My Will rules my Name.
My Will rules the Thing.
By the circles numbered three,
By the Essence that flows from me to thee,
By these words of Power,
Spoken in this Midnight Hour,
I am the Master.

Open unto Me."

The three circles glow briefly, and are erased as if they never existed, all the runes gone like yesterday's dreams. But the power touches the locked door with authority.

(OOC: Lia uses the currently illegal Knock ritual on the hospice's door. She keeps using the fly as her personal canarie, waits for Grimmric to return, then goes inside.)

Scary Athene wrote:But if Guy Benoit asked them to strike a blow against the tyranny of the Lords... they'd do it.”

Nicolas swallows slowly whilst maintaining eye contact with the lovely lady in question. Fortunately he was enough of an actor not to show in his body language or expression the desire he hd within to run very fast in the opposite direction, not the first bed you've made and didn't want to lie in his subconscious offers, hardly helping matters.

Clearing his throat, Nicolas pulls out every Benoitism he can remember. "You'll need to offer more than that Madame. Whilst the debt is acknowledged I am not stupid enough to walk blindly into anything." He says with a growl.Although you are stupid enough to pretend to be a revolutionary and then have to persuade other revolutionaries to be more revolutionary, because you owe a debt to a revolutionary who probably isn't even vaguely human... but is a revolutionary and you would soo like to be a revolutionary his subconscious chimes in unhelpfully. "I owe you and I stand by it, my word is sacrosanct, but you will need to brief me more fully."

And that's when fate decides to defecate on him from a great height in the form of a Renier. Thinking very very fast Nicolas turns back to Athene making a commanding gesture. "Hush, not yet, I have other irons in the fire this night, not all of them conducive to company. let me deal with this and you have my full attention." So saying he backs off form the lady with a borderline flirtatious wink and walks swiftly to head Bertram off.

Blocking his path Nicolas hisses urgently "If you don't want to see my guts splattered across the Place de Leon, make out you are delivering me an important message and walk away swiftly. Laugh at me later Monsieur, I will indulge you and buy as much brandy as we both can drink , but right now things hang by a thread. You know of course the part I play this night? .....Guy Benoit." He says with an intent look into Bertram's eyes, somewhere between intimidating and pleading for the man to turn round and disappear.

OOC: Diplomacy on Athene : 25 with 1 reroll
Diplomacy on Bertram : 23

Nerit raised her eyebrows at Agale and deftly sidestepped him. "Would you excuse me, Mssrs?"

She stepped over the threshold and disappeared into the Chateau.

M. Agale wrote:"Good evening Inspector! It seems a recurrence your arrival...&c &c &c...without due payment is recipe for trouble."

"Quite so!" GAH. Well, it looked like Celeste was standing right the hell there in the door, unexpectedly, and for at least half of that exposition block. The jury was still out on whether she had been paying attention.

"All in all, Commissioner, a wondrously productive evening was had by all concerned. Only the highest calibre of divination was conducted, and only the most pertinent intelligence was acquired therefrom--and such are the capabilities of our band, here in this happy Chateau, that the tokens M. Agale so thoughtfully mentions shall no doubt be secured far before the final hour. That notwithstanding, it is ever so thoughtful of you to inquire about our progress, Commissioner Gauvain! It bespeaks all the matchless civic responsibility that I should attribute to one so concerned with the well-being of our fair City."

As usual, Celeste was practically a sincerity lighthouse. This may well have been an unstoppable-force-meets-immovable-object scenario.

Holy crap 38 Diplomacy to mollify our ominous buddy.

"Very good," Rex murmured when both Agale and Celeste decided to confront Gauvain. He stepped past them and disappeared upstairs.

NeoTiamat wrote:"Oho! One of the midnight sightseers returns!" The boatman grinned, standing up and sweeping his arms in welcome. "Out sightseeing again, tonight? Welcome! What can I do fhor you?"

Mercator raises one eyebrow at Kerrian, as if to ask You know this man? Bowing slightly to Finnsen, he says, "Doctor Mercator Melanchthon, at your service, Goodman Finnsen. I understand you are in the business of assisting travelers to reach their destination?"