The Shattered City: Chapter One

[NeoTiamat]

Quartier Ouvrier, Port-a-Lucine; March 11th, 770, 8:02 PM
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Excuse me." Tomas says, "Therese, is it? Only, I am being foreign and my Mordentish not so good..."

The shabby doxie instinctively gave way under the touch, falling backward to press uncomfortably up against Eisenwald. "Looking for a bite, monsieur?" she asked, too eagerly. "Bargain prices, monsieur, any way you like." Her glassy eyed stare fell on the costume jacket Eisenwald had worn under the lab coat. "You can have whatever you wants for that coat, monsieur..."

"Therese!" the other woman cried again. "Oh please, messieurs, don't hurt her, please. She's sick, it's made her wrong in the head." You could hear other women, and a few men barely more than boys, murmerring in agreement, trying to convince the doxie to back off, begging you not to hurt her.

"You don't need that coat," Therese growled, suddenly a lot more unpleasant looking. "You can get another one. You don't need it, you're just selfish..."

[DocBeard]

"...hurt her?..." Tomas says, as if it were the farthest thing from his mind. The big black shield on his arm takes away from this picture of innocence a bit, admittedly, but what is acting without a little challenge? "Oh, gosh!" He moves his hand away as if the possible threat just occurred to him. "No, no, my friend, he is...ill, ja? Nasty rash. We don't think it be contagious, but I didn't want the libeling to have to take der chance...."

Tomas frowns a little at the woman's fevered ranting, and takes a quick estimation of his chances against an alley full of beggars if the girl goes feral. This unpleasant ratio leads Tomas to further believe in the power of diplomacy, "...we were just hoping...for directions?..."

[Cronax]

As though he had been electrocuted, Agale started at the hands with a sharp jerk. His mind raced with plans and contingencies for extricating himself should the situation become dire.

Taking a deep breath and clearing his throat, he steadied himself and twisted around under their hands to face the assembled rodentia. "Yes." he said after half a pause. "That scream heard a short while ago seems to have inflamed the imaginations of certain individuals to riotous levels. A very bad situation for the gallery and for themselves I would think. Even as non-natives, is it not our civic duty to foster the flow of information, quelling such belligerence?"

[Nerit]

Nerit had wandered upstairs with the rest by passing fancy. Lucky her. If the sanguine smell wasn't bad enough, the charged air set her entire costume into a static mess. It clung uncomfortably to her skin, the hair on her arms unnaturally raised.

"Vae..."* she whispered after the postmortem performance.

(Arcana 27)

The heavy atmosphere dissipated. The energy settled around her, the cling of static with it.

Nerit couldn't tell what that had been, what it meant. Only that it was a byproduct, an aftershock, of the event--the murder--that transpired in Chastel's office. There was nothing like it she'd heard of, and she doubted it would happen easily again.

====

With her mouth set in a flat line, she followed close behind Kerrian. When he questioned the Blackwoods, however, the face behind the mask contorted.

"Yes," Petrik answered succinctly. "Come with me."

From behind Kerrian, the nun said, "Whatever you're insinuating, get it out of your head." Her statement was sharp as a knife through a man's back. In this case, Kerrian's. She used no honorifics. She did not smile.

____
*Woe.

[yalenusveler]

From behind Kerrian, the nun said, "Whatever you're insinuating, get it out of your head." Her statement was sharp as a knife through a man's back. In this case, Kerrian's. She used no honorifics. She did not smile.

"There's...been an incident." Kerrian said in a hushed tone, once he was sure they were enough away from the crowd to not be overheard, and more than glad to move their little conspiratorial circle if it was needed to acquire a modicum of privacy. "It felt like what happened at the chapel..but different, less focused. And Mme Chastel is no longer amongst us. Whomever was responsible...was significantly powerful in the ways of magic...either the standard, or how I work it...I'm not sure yet. I..think something truly bad is being engineered."

Kerrian shook his head "The others have gone to try and get more help. We're going to try to keep things here as calm as possible..."

Kerrian's look darkened a moment, then he turned to Richard and in Low mordentish said " The Sword with a Sun for a hilt...has been found...in Mme Chastel's chest. I do NOT want my vision coming true any more. I don't want you or your sister out of my sight, and if things get bad, I want you out of my sight specifically due to being behind me and as many sturdy individuals I can find. "

Kerrian's green eyes darkened for a moment. "I...think someone is literally trying to assault the spirit of Dementlieu."

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"I thought of something similar," Lia admits when Kerrian has made his claim of an assault on the spirit of Dementlieu. "The charter, a document which should be undivisible and unique, is now become two of equal worth. The protector's blade, which should guard the land, has now taken the life of a guardian's of that land's life-blood. This is rather powerful symbolism. I just do not recognize the form of magic used."

[Kaitou Kage]

As the trio passed into the Quartier Ouvrier, Cyrus seemed to simply fade away. The night began to swallow him and he slipped through the shadows near Tomas and Katja. He gently tapped the two of them on the shoulder to let them know he was near, and then he skulked into the darkness.

He watched from his vantage point in the shadows and gently fingered his holy symbol. Someone like him wouldn't be too welcome in this place, but this "Therese" was a problem. The dommer slipped around beside the apparently leader of the group.

"I suggest," he murmured, snakelike, "you step back. They won't hurt you -- not on purpose. Who knows what will happen if the harlot assaults them..."

Stealth 22 to stay hidden while I suggest things to the people, Perception 28 to see if I can spot anything useful or amiss.

[NeoTiamat]

The Tessier Gallery, Quartier Savant, Port-a-Lucine; March 11th, 770, 8:11 PM
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Even as non-natives, is it not our civic duty to foster the flow of information, quelling such belligerence?"

"Oh, yes." The two white mice breathed, an entirely whole-heared endorsement of Agale's philosophy. Very quickly, they went at it with a gusto.

So it was that not too long later, Mr. Agale and Bertram and Bertriz Renier found themselves once more at the buffet, their mission accomplished with considerable speed.

The buffet had become a small Richemuloise fiefdom, guarded by a young and excessively muscular Christophe Renier and the more subtle Felise Dupon-Renier, with Alain Marmency hanging around nearby, drinking and watching the situation unfold somewhat nervously. Over this all, like a judge in his black suit, presided Sebastian Marchand-Renier.

"Agale, greetings." Marchand-Renier said quietly as Bertram and Bertriz slinked alongside the Borcan lawyer. The two white mice were enjoying themselves just a little bit more than was properly appropriate. The professor watched this with a tolerant resignation. "Is everything well?"

===============================================

Kerrian's look darkened a moment, then he turned to Richard and in Low mordentish said " The Sword with a Sun for a hilt...has been found...in Mme Chastel's chest. I do NOT want my vision coming true any more. I don't want you or your sister out of my sight, and if things get bad, I want you out of my sight specifically due to being behind me and as many sturdy individuals I can find. "

"Mr. Mauganson," Richard said quietly, drawing himself up to his full height. The silver lion mask looked down at Kerrian, stern and sad, the misty eyes behind it echoing the same emotion. "Wanting something doesn't always make it happen."

"What vision?" Alice asked. She was quiet, but in a way that suggested it would be dangerous not to answer her. "Mr. Mauganson, I want a straight answer, without swords and suns and visions. Is my brother in danger?"

"Alice," Richard quietly admonished. He looked back at Kerrian, although it seemed as though half his comments were directed towards his sister. "I, my sister and I, are not children to be locked away when there is danger. There is, there will always be danger in life. If you think there is good cause for, for concern, then I thank you for it, and whatever help you offer, but I will not spend my life chaperoned because of it. And if, if things get bad, I will be standing beside you." The young man managed a small smile. "You don't need to worry about, about me charging mindlessly into danger, whatever my sister might say to you. I can, I do respect my own life."

Alice, at least, did not seem affected in the slightest by her brother's speech. "Is Richard in danger?" she asked again.

"I...think someone is literally trying to assault the spirit of Dementlieu."

"I thought of something similar," Lia admits when Kerrian has made his claim of an assault on the spirit of Dementlieu. "The charter, a document which should be undivisible and unique, is now become two of equal worth. The protector's blade, which should guard the land, has now taken the life of a guardian's of that land's life-blood. This is rather powerful symbolism. I just do not recognize the form of magic used."

"It would be rather a stretch to say that Madame Marie Chastel was a guardian of the land's life-blood. She was notedly apathetic in doing her duties." Professor Lemercier said lightly, pouring himself a glass of brandy from a small flask he had liberated from the buffet. "If I may be so bold as to lay down dubious commentary upon the deceased, it always amazed me that she managed to keep her jobs at all, given as she was rarely present for museum openings or what-not."

"She was old." Professor Petrik said with a sniff. "And the two young-bloods are right. Something is being done here which should not be done."

"Of course, of course, my illustrious Seiglinde." Lemercier said, taking a sip of the brandy. He fixed Petrik with an inscrutable look, serious eyes staring out of an un-serious face, obscured lightly by the domino mask and its silver sign of eternity. "Please do not take that I am quibbling over minutia. Merely establishing exact terminology prior to seeking an answer to this most vexing question."

"It is too crowded here." Petrik said. "Too many ideas all at once. It makes it hard to see what is going on."

"A most valid point, my magnificent Seiglinde. Let us get some air for further cogitation." Lemercier replied. He favored the rest of you with an airy sort of wave. "If you delightful young people do not object, the incomparable Seiglinde and I shall take a quick walk around the Gallery, see if we have any new thoughts to contribute to this conundrum."

"The, the spirit of Dementlieu?" Richard echoed, pensively rubbing his beard. "There, there might be a viewpoint we are missing here. Did, did the, ah, the priest of the Lawgiver have any opinion on what happened?"

"No doubt," Alice said dryly. "More importantly, did he say anything?"

"The Ezrans of, of Dementlieu are dedicated to finding knowledge," Richard quietly suggested. "I think, if they will help us, they, they might have some insight into the matter that we, we do not."

"Even if the ones at the Cathedral won't, there are several at the hospice of Hala who will," Alice said, although she was still watching Kerrian carefully for her answer. "And the Halans themselves, of course."

Quartier Ouvrier, Port-a-Lucine; March 11th, 770, 8:11 PM
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I suggest," he murmured, snakelike, "you step back. They won't hurt you -- not on purpose. Who knows what will happen if the harlot assaults them..."

A murmer went through the crowd at that.

"No, m'sieur, no! We can't just stand back and do nothing!" one of the women protested.

One of the young men put thoughts into more immediate action, striding forward towards the harlot. "Get away from him, you crazy bat!" he yelled. "Stupid witch! I'll give you my coat if that's all you want, but you don't touch him!"

"Why shouldn't I touch him?" Therese sniped back, clutching at Tomas' lapels. "That's all men want, for me to touch them, that's why they come down here!"

"I'm trying to be nice..." the man growled threateningly. A few more people ran out from the alleyways, begging the man not to hurt her.

"Shut up!" a new voice called from one of the second floor windows. "Are you trying to get the militia called down on us?"

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"Professors Lemercier and Petrik," Lia says, her voice calm but firm, "at the risk of annoying you, I must advise strongly against your going outside just now.

Right now, people are ... tense. Both this crowd of preening jackdaws and security were whipped into a frenzy, even if they seem to have settled down a bit. If you are seen to leave now, you might either cause some of the crowd to try and leave right now, which would be bad, or you might load suspicion upon yourselves, which would be worse.

And before you say to me that you can slip out unobserved, this is Dementlieu. Even with magic, the chances of being completely unobserved are infinitesimal.

The choice to stay or go is, of course, yours. But I hope you will take my concerns to heart."

[DocBeard]

"Why shouldn't I touch him?" Therese sniped back, clutching at Tomas' lapels. "That's all men want, for me to touch them, that's why they come down here!"

"I daresay." Tomas's hand is around Therese's wrist, his mask hiding the 'three-seconds-before-the-grenade-goes-off' tension on his face. "You would find more than you bargained for, if you kept going like that."

Tomas's grip weakens, then, as he realizes what he is doing. Taking a slow breath and violently suppressing his horror at the loss of temper, Eisenwald continues in a bland attempt at his jovial voice, "I'm very ugly, you see."

"Look, this is stupid and not worth a fight." Tomas sloughs off his coat(after quickly checking the pockets-luckily, Tomas used a lighter coat than usual because of the lab coat he was using in his costume.) and, if Therese and the man let him, starts walking away. "I got the damn thing wholesale anyway."

(My intimidate fizzled with an 11.)

[The Whistler]

"I...think someone is literally trying to assault the spirit of Dementlieu."

“A symbolic assault upon our fair Nation?” Celeste had apparently taken a good while to ford the crowd, but she took up the conversation as if she had been involved all along. “And one that, not content to stay within the realm of the ideals, encroaches instead upon the very lives of our noble Citizenry? Oh, it is simply too horrible to contemplate!” She had the decency to speak in a low tone of voice, though she was clearly more distraught than her recent performance indicated.

The, the spirit of Dementlieu?" Richard echoed, pensively rubbing his beard. "There, there might be a viewpoint we are missing here. Did, did the, ah, the priest of the Lawgiver have any opinion on what happened?"

"No doubt," Alice said dryly. "More importantly, did he say anything?"

"The Ezrans of, of Dementlieu are dedicated to finding knowledge," Richard quietly suggested. "I think, if they will help us, they, they might have some insight into the matter that we, we do not."

"Even if the ones at the Cathedral won't, there are several at the hospice of Hala who will," Alice said, although she was still watching Kerrian carefully for her answer. "And the Halans themselves, of course."

Celeste listened quietly to the Blackwoods’ suggestions, chewing her lower lip in thought. “Astute suggestions all…though, considering the peculiar nature of our plight, I should almost say that we must consult an Art Historian! Oh, but if my meager talents were only up to the task…given what is at stake, my own ill-considered opinions on the semiotic can only be woefully inadequate.” She shook her head. “No: we must disregard that line of inquiry entirely. Rather, if I can be of any help in petitioning of the proper Ezrans or Halans, I should be most eager to provide it!”

[yalenusveler]

"I'm...honestly not sure if they can help." Kerrian said, trying not to be entirely too defeatist at the moment. "We have no idea what's going on here, and we have no idea if the people here are truly safe. What I'd honestly like to do is get a better look at where this happend...I" He paused a moment.

"I just don't feel personally safe going back in the room. But I don't want anyone to get hurt because i'm being a coward." Kerrian shrugged. "Something from the spiritual dominion already tried to kill me recently. But.." He shook his head "I guess if it just tries to slaughter me it's no great loss."

"Anyone want to potentially watch the show..I guess you can follow. If they'll even let me back in."

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"I will accompany you, Mr. Mauganson," Lia says, her tone deceptively mild. "I don't slaughter easily, and I can cause ... considerable discomfort to anyone who tries to attack the people I travel with. Shall we?"

The Mage holds out her hand to Kerrian.

[NeoTiamat]

The Tessier Gallery, Quartier Savant, Port-a-Lucine; March 11th, 770, 8:14 PM
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The choice to stay or go is, of course, yours. But I hope you will take my concerns to heart."

"Never fear dear child, for I have a plan." The rotund professor said grandly, words guaranteed to evoke terror and despair in all who heard them. "There shall be no panicked frenzy, on the grounds that others shall not be able to follow us, and there shall be no suspicion, on the grounds that I shall say do nothing that is false or untrue. Observe."

With those words, Evariste Lemercier waddled towards the quartet of Tessier Gallery security officials who were guarding the door. Petrik sniffed, then followed him, one of her long strides matching two of Lemercier's shorter ones. It was interesting, in a way, how at the moment Lemercier seemed shorter and rounder than he had before, almost like a ball of some sort, even though objectively, Lemercier was a few inches taller than the norm.

"Ah, my good man, a pleasure to meet you." Lemercier said breezily, waving his glass of brandy a little too close to the door-captain's face. "My colleagues and I are here to shore up the external wards that the good Councilor LaGrange has set up, and see that there occurred no thaumaturgical degradation in the wake of the most recent event. It would be no good for us to have calmed the aura popularis only for further disaster to assail this gallery. Unfortunately, the situation inside prevents us from being able to audi et alteram partem, for which we require externality relative to the situation inside."

"...does M. Tessier know about this?" The door captain said carefully, assaulted by a flurry of words and struggling for some kind of clarity.

"I assure you, m'sieur, that Donatien Tessier could have no possible cause to reproach you were you to let us through the door." Lemercier said with perfect aplomb. Behind him, Petrik's expression behind the wolf-mask was inscrutable.

"Ve-eery well." The door captain said dubiously. He was about to say something else, but Lemercier had already pushed through the four guards and was out the door, Petrik following along. Lemercier was indeed like a ball at the moment. A cannonball, to be precise.

================================================

"I just don't feel personally safe going back in the room. But I don't want anyone to get hurt because i'm being a coward." Kerrian shrugged. "Something from the spiritual dominion already tried to kill me recently."

"Mr. Mauganson." Kerrian found his way blocked by the elder of the two Blackwoods, looking for all the world like the queen of the fey, in all her terrible beauty. Alice was not the kind of preening nobility that frequented Dementlieu's high society, but it seemed she could manage haughty quite well when she put her mind to it - at the moment, it was either haughty or furious. "Before you get yourself vaporized, or murdered, I would appreciate it if you could articulate a response to my question."

"Sis!" Richard gently chided. "Stop, stop trying to intimidate him. It's fine, it's not that important."

"Really." Alice placed her hands on her hips. "You would apparently know better than I would, Richard. But since you haven't bothered to tell me, and Mr. Mauganson seems to think it grounds for shackling us to him - if he wouldn't rather be eaten by a monster first - I'd like to know what exactly the issue is and make my own judgments!"

"But.." He shook his head "I guess if it just tries to slaughter me it's no great loss."

"Do what, whatever you think is right, Ker- Mr. Mauganson," Richard replied, solemnly. "But have, have a little more respect for your life than that."

================================================

Outside the Tessier Gallery, the evening was downright balmy. It was certainly hospitable. People passed by you, tipping their hats and laughing and joking loudly. One man was pouring out a full wallet into a beggar's cup, chatting pleasantly as he did so. Elsewhere, two women hugged each other in the street, murmurring words you couldn't quite hear.

"If it isn't the Professor Evariste Lemercier." A familiar, calm voice came from your side. Strolling around the perimeter of the building, with his loyal shadow Lieutenant Jaeger on hand, was Ambassador Vedarrak. He looked at Lemercier without much love but with an ironic nod. "A pleasure to meet you, sir. I have very good things to say about your Pollice Verso."

"Why, if it is not the incomparable Marcos! Greetings and salutations, Ambassador of a foreign land. I had not expected to see you outside." Lemercier said, feigning surprise. "You gladden my heart with your compliments, coming as they do from an avowed art lover such as yourself."

"Indeed." Vedarrak said. "Does Tessier know you're out here?"

"Donatien Tessier could have no possible cause for reproach were he to find us here." Lemercier said smoothly, just as he had to the guard.

"Which wasn't the question being asked." Vedarrak said, unsmiling. "And in any case, he wouldn't have cause for reproach because he's scared of you."

"True." Petrik said.

"My wonderful, my majestic, my magnificent Seiglinde." Lemercier said under his breath. "You are not helping."

"The answer is no, in that case." Vedarrak said. "Next question. Why are you here?"

"For the same reasons as yourself, my good man. To examine, in so much as possible, the cause of this night's difficulties." Lemercier said with his usual easy manner. "After all, the more minds at work, the faster the labor."

"A fair point." Vedarrak said, staring strangely at Lemercier and the rest of the group for a long moment. Then he nodded brusquely. "Very well, you're clear of hostile enchantments, so carry on. Don't go too far, I expect the Councilor will be around shortly."

"Marcos, you are a man after my own heart. An infinite number of gratitudes to you." The art historian said with a broad smile.

Vedarrak smiled a little in return, then with a curt nod to Jaeger, continued on his own patrol.

The sound of breaking glass turned your attention elsewhere. A pack of young men were swaggering down the street throwing bricks through windows and laughing and joking at the top of their voices. They looked to be fairly poorly dressed, young layabouts one and all. Even as you watched, they tossed another brick through a shop window. The man who had just recently given his wallet, his coat, and his pocket watch to the beggar started yelling furiously at the young men, who returned the honor.

"This is wrong." Petrik sniffed, the wolf mask warily looking back and forth at the tableau in front of her. "It is not just this building."

[Cronax]

"Agale, greetings." Marchand-Renier said quietly as Bertram and Bertriz slinked alongside the Borcan lawyer. The two white mice were enjoying themselves just a little bit more than was properly appropriate. The professor watched this with a tolerant resignation. "Is everything well?"

Never much of a glutton, Agale looked up from the buffet he had been apathetically perusing. "Indeed it now is, in part thanks to the efforts of your kinsmen. I must praise their efficiency in endeavors of this nature" he said, waving a hand at the contingent of mice. "You seem to have me at a disadvantage.." Agale thinks for a moment, His accent is Richmuloise, but he knows me so we have probably been introduced. "Ah, wait, Marchand-Renier I presume?" he rallied "A comrade in academia with some of my new fellow lodgers if I am correct. We really seem to be developing a habit of meeting under calamitous circumstances."