The Shattered City: First Interlude

[NeoTiamat]

Chateau Malchance, Quartier Marchand, Port-a-Lucine; March 11th, 770, 10:12 PM
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"And...do you know any reason why there would be a water elemental at the Gallery?" Kerrian said, recalling something that hadn't seemed terribly important at the time, but suddenly..did.

"I would suspect, my good man, that it was by way of a security measure instituted by Councilor LaGrange, in case of fire or some similar unfortunate event." Prof. Lemercier cast a rather bleakly ironic smile upon Kerrian. "I imagine that it was taken by the Councilor as a bodyguard when all of these matters came to a head, which proved to be an unfortunately rather ill-timed moment for its absence."

"That is my conjecture, in any case." Lemercier said with a shrug of his large shoulders. "It certainly had the marks of the Councilor's enchantments upon it, though the rest, I admit, is pure speculation. It is a cogent theory, however, in my view."

"Are you hurt?" He asked, concerned, even though the wolf mask was more than giving him a bit of the chills. "That looks like an awful lot of blood..."

"It is not mine." Prof. Petrik said frostily, the lamplight glinting off that entirely too realistic mask. It had teeth, after all, fashioned of ivory. You noticed now, once it had been pointed out, that there was blood dripping from behind the mask, rivulets running down Petrik's muslin neck-cloth. "You do not need to worry about me."

"My precious Seiglinde, our hearts cannot help tremble with abject fear at the very thought that you may be injured." Professor Lemercier murmurred. He had finally found a handkerchief and was pressing it to his copiously bleeding nose, and looked a little surprised at the blood on it when he removed it. Apparently the art historian hadn't realized quite how bad he looked. "All further questions, however, must await a wash. I would recommend that those whose constitutions allow them take short catnaps, as I fear there will be little sleep this night. With humble apologies to the absent Grimmalken for this blithe use of his species."

Chateau Malchance, Quartier Marchand, Port-a-Lucine; March 12th, 770, 12:04 AM
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The night continued, the moon progressing on her stately journey through the sky. It was an eerily well-lit night, with fires casting up reflections in the city, and illuminating the skyline of Port-a-Lucine as though it was some ghastly corona. And yet, the fires did not spread, and the sounds of rioting and madness lessened as the hours ticked by. The grim malaise that gripped the city weakened its grasp, finger by cadaverous finger.

Captain Cedolin's reinforcements finally arrived, a double handful of calm-faced men in bright, scarlet-red caps. The safest way for the gendarmes to travel in Port-a-Lucine tonight was in groups, it seemed. Cedolin spoke with them and explained the situation, and they carried off Mr. Agale's prisoner, now bound with proper shackles. Not that, unconscious and with a broken jaw, the man was going anywhere in the immediate future.

As for Darius... he was to arrive at the Palace of Justice the next morning and give his statement. Cedolin was apologetic in this, and sympathetic to Darius's plight, but the gendarme captain was firm. A statement was required from the Mulan.

The Chateau seemed quieter after Cedolin left, though he promised to send a patrol to check up on the Chateau come morning, in case anything was needed.

Chateau Malchance, Quartier Marchand, Port-a-Lucine; March 12th, 770, 12:57 AM
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"Someones coming." Katja said, carefully cocking the large crossbow.

"Hrmrh?" Cerise had been dozing in her big chair, nestled amidst the pillows and quilts and riotous colors, not unlike how Malky had burrowed into her arms and stayed there. "Can you tell who it is?" Cerise said, blinking her eyes awake.

"It is... it is Herr Eisenwald and Devereux, with the Richemuloise. And they bring back someone else... Boucher." Katja said, squinting out into the darkness with her one good eye.

"They're back! I knew they could make it through." Cerise grinned, scurrying over to the window and peering out. "Well, unless they're doppelgangers trying to make us lower our guard for an attack. Or they were killed and these are revenants coming back to seek vengeance for not going out with them in the first place. Or they've stumbled into a really strong area of this craziness and they're now coming back to kill us all. Or--"

"Should I shoot them?" Katja cut the other woman's flood of information off, aiming the crossbow at Thierri Boucher.

"Of course not! This is Tomas Eisenwald." Cerise seemed a little offended for her idol. "He'd never let himself get caught like that. Besides, the best thing against revenants is salt, not crossbows."

Katja did not look convinced, but with a second glance down the sights at Thierri, she lowered the crossbow.

[Nathan of the FoS]

As for Darius... he was to arrive at the Palace of Justice the next morning and give his statement. Cedolin was apologetic in this, and sympathetic to Darius's plight, but the gendarme captain was firm. A statement was required from the Mulan.

Coming downstairs a few minutes after his twin, dark glasses back in place and fully clothed in robes which look just like what he had been wearing before--without the blood, of course. Perhaps it's only the glasses, but he seems much more composed.

At Cedolin's apologetic reference to a statement, he replies, "Of course, Captain. I will be very glad to give an official statement. I am afraid it will prove to be less than enlightening; I did not keep my wits about me very well. But..." he shrugs. "I will tell what I saw."

[DocBeard]

"You want to come in the front, or the back?" Tomas asks Thierri, keeping close in case the evening catches up with the magician and he decides to collapse. Or in case someone mistakes him for a blood caked ghoul and Tomas has to block a crossbow bolt.

...its a living.

[NeoTiamat]

Chateau Malchance, Quartier Marchand, Port-a-Lucine; March 12th, 770, 1:00 AM
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"Is the front door trapped?" Boucher asked, arching an eyebrow. In light of the evening's events, it seemed like a justified concern.

Therri Boucher seemed to be doing his best to prove Cerise's revenaunt theory correct. Someone had, very carefully, tried to clean the blood off his face and hands. This attempt was completely ruined by Thierri's tattered shirt being completely encrusted in dried blood. Somewhere in the evening, he'd lost his blue coat and mask, leaving him looking like he'd been found in front of a firing range.

Thierri, at least, seemed to marginally awknowledge he looked like Tomas had stole him out of a mortuary - though it took him a bit. "The others aren't as used to blood," he said, with a flat look at his ruined shirt, "but they'll see me in the house, whether I come in front or back." He absently picked at a spot on what was once his lapel, then abruptly let the cloth drop. "Perhaps I should just take it off," he suggested with a sigh.

[Kaitou Kage]

"You never have your wits about you," Cyrus remarked to his brother. "If you did, you wouldn't have left in the first place."

[Nathan of the FoS]

"You never have your wits about you," Cyrus remarked to his brother. "If you did, you wouldn't have left in the first place."

"It's not as if you spent a quiet evening at home, brother, but since you have no wits to keep about you it's no good for me to complain about it," Darius replies coolly. "It sounds as if the search party has returned with our little lost lamb. Shall we let them in?"

[Kaitou Kage]

"I was busy working, brother. Something you should try doing sometime. Your laziness is truly astounding."

Cyrus shrugged. "I'm surprised you didn't go with them. You seem intent on getting yourself killed. Just run off into the darkness and the Mytteri and shirk your duty to the Church like you always do."

[DocBeard]

"I might." Tomas suggests with as much diplomacy as he can muster at this time of evening. "If it is any consolation, you do handle the shirtless look rather well. But, nein, you would be needing the extra large pants to preform that way, and that would erase any benefit."

Deciding that the front door works, Tomas knocks two times, and rubs his wrist. "Professor? Christophe? We do not want to get separated so close to our goal, ja?"

[Nathan of the FoS]

Cyrus shrugged. "I'm surprised you didn't go with them. You seem intent on getting yourself killed. Just run off into the darkness and the Mytteri and shirk your duty to the Church like you always do."

Before Cyrus has fully finished the sentence Darius has closed the distance between them and punched him in the jaw, knocking him back and almost succeeding in knocking him off his feet. Darius snarls something guttural in Vaasi, then steps back and says, almost more amused than angry, "Damn, you have a hard head. C'mon, let's let them in."

[The Whistler]

“Can it be?” Celeste instantly perked up from her position in a side chair. Her end of the vigil had begun with intent observation, punctuated every thirty seconds or so by earnest questions about sniping technique and crossbow maintenance. After it had been made subtly clear that this wasn’t helping matters, she had amiably settled into her fallback plan, which involved needlepoint—being as she was a quarter of the way through a sampler. Upon hearing Katja’s announcement, she was instantaneously bright, chipper and seemingly heedless of the fact that it was 1:00 in the morning—lending further credence to the theory that her metabolism ran on happiness and rainbows instead of food or sleep.

“Our gracious Landlord, our Chateau’s valorous Knight, and my night’s ever-gallant Escort—returned to us in one glorious moment? Oh, rapture unspeakable!”

In an instant, she was on her feet and adjusting her dress (having taken some time in the interim to change from her kimono into something more conventional). “We must endeavor to provide them with a welcome befitting the solemnity of their excursion—oh, how they must long for comfort! There must be tea… Oh, gentle friends! But accompany me if you are able, and we shall form the vanguard of their reception!”

With that, she dashed downstairs.

“Coo-ee! M. Bouchard! M. Eisenwald! M. Devereux! Oh, say that you have remained unendangered!”

[Cronax]

"I imagine that it was taken by the Councilor as a bodyguard when all of these matters came to a head, which proved to be an unfortunately rather ill-timed moment for its absence."

Yess.." Mr. Agale agreed. Yet there was a tone to his voice which suggested he did not truly believe this to be the case. With a pensive look on his face, he took his leave for the night and ascended the stairs to retire for the night.

[yalenusveler]

Kerrian had apparently decided that he would be part of a vanguard downstairs...or perhaps simply fell asleep in a chair after too much pacing. Either way, Celeste's exuberant sojourn to greet the returning members of their household roused him from his slumber. "They're back?" He asked, blinking sleep from his green eyes "Is everyone ok? Has anyone found the Blackwoods yet?" Said as he moved with Celeste to greet those returning, relief and concern blending in equal measure upon his face.

[Nathan of the FoS]

This is what comes of having a household with no servants responsible for things. Like opening doors. The Borcan is going upstairs, the green man has been asleep (not a bad idea if you can do it in a madhouse like this one) and Cyrus would, as usual, rather make smart remarks than do anything useful.

So! The situation must be rectified.

Striding to the door, Darius is about to throw it open (with his left hand, sword in the right, just because it's been one of those nights and you can't be too careful) when he has a near collision with a comet in petticoats. It seems impossible for someone so encumbered to move so quickly...there must be a knack to it. Double-checking to verify it is, in fact, the girl with the luggage who talks too much, Darius notes that the green man (he will presumably have to get around to learning names one of these days) has also come to the door. He's got an audience!

Regaining his concentration, Darius does throw the door open and makes a "come in" gesture with the sword.

"Nasty night out, isn't it?" he says to Thierri.

[NeoTiamat]

Chateau Malchance, Quartier Marchand, Port-a-Lucine; March 12th, 770, 1:13 AM
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Regaining his concentration, Darius does throw the door open and makes a "come in" gesture with the sword.

"Hello everyone." Darius found himself confronted with a cheerfully smiling, well-muscled young man with a tousled mop of chestnut hair. "We found M. Boucher, but we decided it was safer to come back here. Anyone have a couch I can sleep on? It's been a long night."

"Er... I have my own bed... in my own house... Which is too far away..." Devereux said, then sighed. "May I... borrow an armchair from someone...?"

"Nasty night out, isn't it?" he says to Thierri.

Boucher took a moment to simply look at the people in the doorway. His blue eyes trailed over to Kerrian, then to Darius, flickering between him and Cyrus a few times before settling on the former. Finally he turned his head to look at Celeste, as cheerful and as poised as she always was. He did not choose to correct her pronunciation of his name. "An accurate description," he replied quietly to Darius. "But one that loses the true impact of the evening."

The normal, restless parlor tricks were gone, leaving behind the impression of pent up energy within him, building up to dangerous levels. "Is anyone else hurt?" he asked, his voice completely flat.

[Nerit]

Nerit, in the midst of all this hubbub, had disappeared. The nun and Tomas had had a fevered whispering match, and with him gone, she had left as well, it seemed. But for those paying attention, she had merely gone upstairs.