Café de Nuit

Lia turns to Anna-Marie for the first time since the Rue des Foyles and whispers to her: "Know this, then. I had no particular desire to martyr you. What kind of thing is that to do, cast an enemy into a situation where they are stripped of their dignity and eventually all that is them? This sickens me; but if it is the choice between this and letting uncounted innocents die as collateral damage, then this is all we can do. Or do you now wish to offer an alternative that does not involve joining a cult that casts the helpless into the fires of revolution as fuel and twists its enemies into tools?"

Rock wrote:Lia turns to Anna-Marie for the first time since the Rue des Foyles and whispers to her: "Know this, then. I had no particular desire to martyr you. What kind of thing is that to do, cast an enemy into a situation where they are stripped of their dignity and eventually all that is them? "

"Lia..you did dump a bowl of water on her head." Kerrian said quietly, the sort of small commentary a person offered when at the moment, they didn't have much else to. It was perhaps a bit of a critique, but if so, lacking much sting. "Either way, can we stop making speeches, get her turned over to the proper authorities for now, and then see what we can do to stop whatever she was planning on doing before we decided she was going to be late?"

Darius smiles slightly at the prisoner's apt summation of Tomas' rather florid surmises about the ritual, its effects, and the "star-men", whatever those are supposed to be.

It is the only even remotely friendly expression to cross his face in the whole twenty minutes of the walk to Montmort; for the rest he keeps his gaze fixed on the prisoner's slight frame as if she were a bird that might at any moment take wing--her bindings notwithstanding.

"Wanted in connection with the murder of a gendarme," Darius elucidates, forcing her forward. "She is also connected to a plot against the state which is going to be carried out tonight, so make sure she stays in a condition to talk, yes? And keep her away from mirrors. You may think that sounds stupid, but her gang have killed two men with mirror-magic. That we know of."

Knowing their destination Nicholas hangs at the back of the group, keeping a low profile and smoking with a vengance. His face blanches a litle at the sight of the looming edifice, but this is Nicholas and keepign quiet for long just isnt in his nature...

Cerise wrote:"They had to replace the guillotine last year. The old one started having a lot of 'accidents' and even began slicing when there was no one around to wind it up." Cerise said, glancing at Richard.

"Not just ghosts you have to worry about in there Cherie; violence, starvation, disease and even madness will all just as likely come for you. Still at least Madame La Guillotine offers a quick kiss goodnight, a far more preferable end than a length of rope." He says softly, absently scratching under his chin as he does so.

Tomas continues to feel like a stupid joke. But at least he's a quiet one, his earnest outreach to the cultist being slapped down having taken the coal out of his burner.

He'll be back in working shape soon enough, but frankly considering his track record with authority figures Eisenwald figures he's as helpful quiet as he is talking.

Cyrus smirked at Anne-Marie's retort to Tomas and again at Kerrian's riposte to Lia, but otherwise said nothing. He walked in step with Darius, keeping a firm guiding hand on the prisoner. Once or twice he exchanged a glance with Darius but the twins spoke no words.

Lia's comment and actions, Anne-Marie's association with the cult, and the events on the Archeron and at the University simply reinforced Cyrus's perception that Dementlieu never had any real order. The people had become too free and too disrespectful and now it was crumbling apart. This is what happened to nations without the Lawgiver. Even Falkovnia, with its rigid social structure, had countless problems because they did not accept the Lawgiver.

Perhaps Dementlieu needed to fall apart completely. Cyrus smiled inwardly at that thought. Perhaps this was part of the Lawgiver's plan. Let the weak, treacherous establishment collapse so that the Lawgiver can rise from its ashes and take His place as the rightful god of the realm. It worked for Hazlan fifty years ago after the war.

The dommer sighed. Despite what Dementlieu might need, he was still an agent of the Law. As long as the existing establishment had a chance of remaining, he was bound to support it in any way possible. So he would continue to help rebuild. But a small part of him hoped things would collapse so he could step in and fill the void with the Lawgiver's authority.

Either way, he wins.

Montmort Prison, Quartier Ouvrier, Port-a-Lucine; Nearing Midnight of March 24th, 770
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Darius wrote:"Wanted in connection with the murder of a gendarme," Darius elucidates, forcing her forward. "She is also connected to a plot against the state which is going to be carried out tonight, so make sure she stays in a condition to talk, yes?"

Two of the gendarme took Anne-Marie from the Isfahani twins, one of them roughly pulling back her gloves. He frowned at the lesions that were covering her skin, but simply gave a grim nod. Anne-Marie looked humiliated at the treatment, but didn't try to struggle. It was better to go with some dignity than to be dragged, and she went as willingly as anyone could into that ominous fortress. She only paused for a moment, at the gates, to turn to her two captors.

"I beg pardon, messieurs, but do either of you have the time?" she asked, an almost-smile upon her lips. None of the gendarme replied, as bleak and as stone-faced as the walls around them.

Richard reached his uninjured arm into his waistcoat pocket, a look of dawning trepidation beginning to spread across his face. His pocket watch opened with a sharp click, the ticking of the gears audible to those who were standing nearby. "It's midnight," he said softly, looking Anne-Marie dead in the eye. The woman simply smiled and turned away.

Across the city, you could hear the booming toll of the clock towers beginning to chime the hour. There were not many towers near Montmort, and they all struck the bells at the same time, leaving an eerie impression as the deep sound rolled over you. It seemed a perfect moment for lightning to strike, or the town to go up in flames, but there was nothing more than the sound of the time. Finally, the last toll struck, and then there was silence. The moment after they stopped was a moment of pure serenity, the peaceful scene of the falling snow magnified by the absence of noise.

Richard faltered in his place, the pocket watch tumbling from his hand. He didn't bend at the knees, or stagger over, simply falling backward. He was a tall man, and it was a long way down. He almost seemed to be falling in slow motion, following a perfect arc until he crashed into the snow around you, his black coat standing out stark from the white field. His grey eyes were closed gently, as if he were simply asleep. Snowflakes wafted from the sky above, landing on his cheek and speckling his black hair.

"I told you, didn't I?" Anne-Marie said from the doorway, perched upon the gate to hell. "You are too late."

"Richard!" Nerit shouted, with an emphasis that implied not again! She slipped over the snow to him and placed two fingers under his jaw.

"Perhaps he has lost too much blood?" she muttered hopefully. In the circumstances, it was better than foul play by mirror-magic.

Another hand went to his eyelids to check his irises. After a moment, she nodded. "He is over-fatigued. We must get him out of the cold. Messieurs!" Nerit waved to the gendarme.

"This man needs a hospice. If you could spare the help, I shall take him to Ste. Madeline's?" When she said the last words, her face twisted into a knot. Not surprising, perhaps, being of the Nevuchar Springs breed.


Heal Check: 20

Nicholas spits his cigarette out in a cough of suprise as Richard falls. "What the hell just happened?" he demands rushing to the young man's side.

Arcana: 19 Heal: 7 which isnt even worth an aid another, sorry Nerit....

Throughout the arrest and 'interrogation' of the young woman, Mr. Agale remained impassive, lost within his own thoughts. When Mr. Blackwood crumples, he gives the man nothing more than a second glance. Instead, he stares hard at Anne-Marie, trying to gauge the depths of her complicity. He glances over to Richard's collapsed form before re-locking his gaze.

Once Anne-Marie is out of sight, Agale addresses one of the remaining guards. "Seargent, if you would be so kind as to relay the following message to Commissioner Gauvin that I would highly recommend he change the guard at the South-East checkpoint to the University an hour earlier tonight and perhaps even reinforce that particular blockade into an ambush."

"Based on the documentation Mr. Mauganson found and Mr. Blackwood's current state, we are already too late to disrupt their rite. If we leave immediately, we can both make a cursory search Dr. Poincare's residence and still return in time to intercept the conspirators as they make their escape."

Make a Perception check if you want.

Agale wrote:"If we leave immediately, we can both make a cursory search Dr. Poincare's residence and still return in time to intercept the conspirators as they make their escape."

NIcholas looks up from besides Richard "You mean the address on Route de Tarascons?" The poet screws up his face in thought for a moment "It is a good distance away, however I just may know a shortcut. Can you manage with him for a moment Sister?" He asks Nerit, standing and joining the others.

Lighting a cigarette he reflects on the falling snow for a moment, "Yes I do believe there is a quicker way, and one that bypasses the main gates, but time is ticking perhaps we should move quickly mes amis?" He adds snapping a silver watch closed.

"Although I think at least someone should stay with Richard."

OOC: Inspire competance for +2 on Streetwise for everyone then rolling a 31

"I'll stay with him," Cerise volunteered, retrieving the fallen pocket watch for the stricken young man. "I'll take him to Ste. Madeleine's, right, Sister? The Ezrans have been more active there since the city riot, there'll be healers there... there should be healers there." She bit her lip, looking at Richard. "I hope what happened to him isn't widespread."

"Alright." Tomas nods, "Thank you Cerise." Energy seeming to return to his form at the prospect of action, Eisenwald cracks his knuckles. "If we hurry, we can check out the address we found and still make the checkpoint in time. Come on!"

And, yes, the big man starts running. Well, okay, its more like a jog, since running in plate mail is mildly impossible, but still.

"Saying that if we get them after the rite is done, we aren't encountering weird mirror world god people." To say that was one of the stranger statements a person was capable of was likely an understatement of Mordentish proportions.

"Didn't they say something about elementals going wild at the university? It would make a distraction..." Of course, right now they had no clue exactly where to go, or if that wasn't just a fakeout. Why couldn't bizarre cults be more straightforward?

He gave Richard another check over, really not comfortable leaving him for the moment, but this wasn't exactly a situation that corresponded with anyone's comfort zones.

OOC:16 on a heal

Celeste had been understandably distraught when Richard passed out, and had immediately crouched down and attended to him along with the others--which, as Celeste had no formal first aid training other than "wave smelling salts in front of someone's face and hope for the best", was not particularly effective. Cerise's offer prompted a grateful look and a warm clasp of the hand.

"I am certain that he shall be safe under your ministrations, Mlle. Rondelet--oh, thank you for your gentle solicitude!"

She took one more glance at Richard, then rose along with the others.