Café de Nuit

47 Rue Foyle, Quartier Savant, Port-a-Lucine; Late Night of March 24th, 770
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Richard groaned slightly as spirits twisted around his arm, pulling the tattered flesh back together. Cerise knelt next to Kerrian, watching as the young man glanced up at his bloodied hand. "He's healing normally, so that's good," she whispered into Kerrian's ear. "Sometimes it doesn't."

"Another, another set of scars to match, match the other hand," Richard managed to say, with a small pained laugh. "Sis, sis will never let me down when she finds out about this..." His smile quickly faded at the thought. "Thank, thank you." He didn't seem in the mood for Nicolas' playful jibes, instead drawing in on himself and falling into a sullen silence.

The young man managed to drag himself back up on his feet, still cradling his bandaged arm to his chest. He gave a forlorn glance back at the ruined mirror, his gaze lingering for a long time, before he finally dragged his eyes away, turning to follow the rest of you up the stairs.

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Whoever was upstairs had made no effort to hide their presence or their location. The sounds of frenzied movement came quite clearly from a parlor on the second floor, a low, arcane chanting emerging from behind a door that was somewhat ajar. The words were soft and hard to hear, shorn of any kind of meaning you could grasp at. It ended as you approached, and as you opened the door to the parlor, you were welcomed with a soft, albeit rather chagrined female voice.

"You're still alive?"

Anna-Marie was a young woman in her early twenties, with dark brown hair and a dusting of freckles around her nose. She was dressed in a practical outfit of sensible dress and long-sleeved blouse, with a high collar and black gloves on her hands. She looked like one of countless well-to-do Dementlieuse women, save that unlike most of them, she was waving a knife at you.

It was a grim tool. A spur of bone as long as a man's forearm, the hilt consisting of merely leather wrapped around the bone. The knife was sharp, and spattered with blood, rich crimson staining the gleaming ivory blade.

"Well it doesn't matter if she didn't get you." Anna-Marie smiled slowly. It was not a sane smile. "You're too late anyway."

She took a step towards you, pushing aside a table and overturning the water-filled bowl atop it. Pink-tinged water stained the carpet. She lowered the knife, running a loving finger along the blood-spattered blade.

"The rite's begun, and you are too late."

"That's fine," Cyrus approached and leveled his sword at the woman. "By the authority invested in me by the government of Dementlieu, you are hereby under arrest. I'm sure you can tell us everything we need to know back at Montmort. Darius?"

The dommer reached out to snatch the young woman's arm and pull her forcefully if necessary.

Do I need to roll to grab her?

"A shame," Lia replies, affecting a Mordentish noblewoman's bored drawl. "I always seem to be just a liiittle too late for the latest breaking occasions of the social season. Alas, it must come from being so preoccupied with work, darling. It's simply murder on the schedule, work is. Howeeevah ..."

The Mage's voice snaps instantly from the affected drawl to the cool, clipped tones that Lia Mourneswaith uses in battle situations, and she levels her staff at 'Anna-Marie'. "However," the Mage continues, "I can foresee a way to fill the empty hours. I do hope you enjoy long talks.

Let's take her alive, gentlemen. But I wouldn't worry about breaking her bones if that becomes an issue. Hoplon. Cogitatio meus manus meus est." A hand of ghostly light materializes in the parlor, seizes the overturned bowl, lifts it up high - and lets it fall on 'Anna-Marie''s head.

(OOC: Lia will stand her ground and let the fighting types take the lady down if they can. She uses a free action to cast Shield, a standard action to cast Mage Hand and use it to hopefully distract Anna-Marie a bit.)

Tomas frowns, trying to place this woman with the one who had escaped them at the Hazlani district. Cracking his knuckles, Eisenwald steps forward, crossing his arms and scowling at the fanatic. The smell of ozone and feel of static are almost overpowering to those sensitive enough to detect them.

"What..." Tomas Eisenwald drops the pretenses, looming in the manner nature intended people of his build to do, eyes smoldering with the intensity of a convert. "...rite?"

(Alas, only a 19 on the intimidate roll.)

Nicholas steps into the room, cocking the pistol and levelling it at the woman. "I do suggest my dear that you acquiesce to my friends demands, I can shoot a penny in half from 100 yards, so please don't tempt me." Despite his foolish outward demeanour as a drunk poet there was something about Nicholas in that moment that oozed threat and malevolence.

"And I rather think you should drop the weapon, s'il vous plait ma chere." He adds pointing at the disturbing piece of bone with the muzzle of the gun.

OOC: Intimidate 23 to get her to drop the bone thing and Arcana 22 on the remains of the ritual

Abruptly, Lia gasps with shock.

"I know you!" she exclaims, staring at Anna-Marie. "You ... You were one of Dr. Poincare's assistants in moving the Icon from Ste. Mêre des ..."

Perhaps it is only Tomas who notices the brief glare of light from Lia's eyes, the instant of writhing beneath her hood. "Oh, my ..." the Mage gasps, voice shaking with horror. "The Icon! All that glass! She was going to take the Icon to the University! The Icon has been at the University for hours!

That elemental breaking out -- Don't you all see? Whoever summoned it must have lost control! All that glass is in the University, and with this damned division, the gendarmerie only know about the elemental because it broke out of the University!

We've been duped again! This was all one giant distraction! The bound elementals ... good grief, all of the bound elementals will go on a rampage! And the gendarmerie is right there, right now!"

(OOC: The results of recognizing this girl and some fevered theorizing of my own. o_o)

"How dare you!" Nerit hissed, only a step behind Cyrus. She didn't elaborate on exactly what Anna-Marie was daring, but the point was made.

"Lady show you no mercy, you vile sycophant!" Nerit turned to Lia. "So then we must go to the University, but this one should be bound in hand and tongue and foot, if not killed outright," she seethed.



Oh, right. Intimidate, I guess. 25

"Bound, beaten into unconsciousness and dragged like a sack of potatoes, yes, yes, yes!" Lia hisses back. "But hurry, hurry! If the elementals break out, they will cut a swathe of death and destruction through the whole bloody city!"

"And yet it is we Mulan who are accused of being cruel," Cyrus said to nobody in particular His voice carried a soft, hissing tone that was quite apt considering his totem animal. "How quickly the worm turns."

"We do not have authority to beat or execute this woman," he said to Lia, "We will bind and gag her and carry her like a trussed wretch to Montmort where she can be tortured and interrogated." The last was said matter-of-factly, as if he fully expected prisoners to be tortured at least a little during an interrogation.

The dommer took a rope with his free hand and reached to tie Anne-Marie up.

My grab attempt is 16 vs. Reflex. If she has class levels equal to ours, that's probably not enough to actually grab her, but here's hoping. Oh well. Maybe the run of 20+ Intimidates will help make this woman more compliant.

"I am not suggesting we have a fun tea party, taking it in turns to beat her into a bloody pulp or torturing her to death!" Lia hisses at Cyrus. "She is an enemy, as well as a potential source of infirmation, and we can neither afford to let her escape nor resist us. Just a quick punch to knock her out, and we can get on with it!"

"Bound, beaten into unconsciousness and dragged like a sack of potatoes, yes, yes, yes!" Cyrus mimicked quietly, a satisfied smile on his face as he continued to try and tie the woman up. Lia was just too easy to toy with. Her arrogance and self-righteousness made it all the more fun.

From the way he turned his back on Lia, it seemed the priest was not intent on saying anything more.

"Posteri immundus populi perditi," Lia hisses under her breath. The words are Draconic, but the tone is quite universal. "Hurry it up and tie her, we have a city to save, in case you had forgotten."

(OOC: Before any mistakes are made, Lia's cussing Cyrus out is purely IC. I have no problems with Kaitou Kage.)

"Both of you!" Tomas snaps, squeezing his hand into a fist as though he were holding back a screaming buffet of steam. "We don't know anything yet, okay? Take a breath, and let everyone finish getting inside before we go jumping to conclusions."

Privately, Tomas fears Lia is very much right, but having her going 'hurry!' every other second isn't going to make time go by any faster. And encouraging Cyrus is just a mistake. "We're not killing anyone if we don't have to. Miss, hi. I'm Tomas. What's your name?"

Being well-covered by pistols, armed warriors, very angry mages, and (not least) his brother, Darius takes the direct route. Slapping the woman's dagger hand aside with his sword, he follows his stroke in and grabs her by the wrist with his left hand, which he then rather brutally twists behind her.

"Hood?" he suggests, nodding at the nearest bit of opaque fabric. "You will explain this rite, and answer our other questions, en route."

It requires a little imagination to be threatened by the flatness of Darius' tone, his peculiar fixity of expression, or the fact that he makes this a simple declarative sentence. On the other hand, imagination might make a great deal of such materials.


Sooooo....attack rolls are 33 (natural 20!) and 26, as necessary. Since we are not on combat footing, I am not quite sure what the protocol is...if something occurs to prevent Darius from doing what he intends to, please let me know how to alter the post.

47 Rue Foyle, Quartier Savant, Port-a-Lucine; Late Night of March 24th, 770
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Lia wrote:Let's take her alive, gentlemen. But I wouldn't worry about breaking her bones if that becomes an issue. Hoplon. Cogitatio meus manus meus est." A hand of ghostly light materializes in the parlor, seizes the overturned bowl, lifts it up high - and lets it fall on 'Anna-Marie''s head.

Tomas wrote:"What..." Tomas Eisenwald drops the pretenses, looming in the manner nature intended people of his build to do, eyes smoldering with the intensity of a convert. "...rite?"

"Oomph." For a moment, something flickered in Anne-Marie's eyes, only to be rapidly blocked from sight by Lia's overturning a bowl on her head. She was a small woman, and it was a fairly large bowl, enough so that Anne-Marie was rocked for a moment, even as the bowl slid off and pinkish water poured down her face.

Insight Check

Cyrus wrote:The dommer took a rope with his free hand and reached to tie Anne-Marie up.

Darius wrote:Being well-covered by pistols, armed warriors, very angry mages, and (not least) his brother, Darius takes the direct route. Slapping the woman's dagger hand aside with his sword, he follows his stroke in and grabs her by the wrist with his left hand, which he then rather brutally twists behind her.

Anne-Marie was a determined young woman with a bloodied dagger of bone and eyes that were not wholly sane, but she was no warrior, and no match for the brutal efficiency of the Lawgiver twins. The bone-knife was knocked from her hands and her arms were twisted behind her. In short order, the woman was disarmed and subdued, the knife spinning along the floor.

Anne-Marie merely glared at you, a bottomless pit of loathing in her eyes. She didn't need to speak, it was clear. She hated you, hated you with a deep and abiding passion that owed more than a little to the threats and humiliation.

The knife of bone, with its splinter-shaped blade and its leather-wrapped handle, ended up at Tomas's feet.