The Eye of Anubis: Book Twelve

[DocBeard]

Tomas's hand instinctively snaps to his waist, as the swordsman stands up, covering Sascha and Lia with his body. His mind catches up to his body with the gentle reminder that, oh right, he isn't swearing any armor and Ivorsen's in his dorm room.

All Eisenwald knew about Dominic D'Honnare was that the man seemed to deserve his reputation for being kind of a lech, and he was the common denominator between Charles and Guy going from wanting to kill each other to being surly co-conspirators. Part of him screams that now is the time to rip the lies asunder, grab his friend by the throat and demand that, for once in his life, he tell the whole damn truth...

But that conversation can wait. It feels good, having something to look forward to. Tomas reaches into his coat, and pulls out a flask, taking a long swig while trying to keep his eye on his friends.

(OOC: Ingesting the potion of rhino's strength. Rhino's hide? The rhino juice. It lasts 12 hours so I figure even if we end up changing locations I'll still have the benefits.)

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"I'd gathered," Lia replies calmly to Sascha. "Occultum video!" she chants, making a brief, clawing gesture. The wizard blinks, and when her eyes open again, they glow even brighter than usual. "Now, let us see what is to be seen," she mutters as she peeks out from behind Sascha's shield, then sharply pulls her head back.

(OOC: Detect Magic is up, and I'm ready to make as many Spellcraft checks as it takes! No more nasty surprises from enemy defenses if I can help it.)

[The Whistler]

Well. It appeared that Otto had returned to the auditorium at just the right time. Wrong time? Someone had just been assassinated; it was hard to call this a *good* moment. (The gunsmith, like Tomas, was not exactly clear on *why* D'Honaire had attracted so many unfortunate rumors among his friends, but it wasn't a good idea to speak ill of the dead, regardless.) Then again, Otto was armed and competent, and with a good deal of advance information to boot. If someone *had* to be shot through the neck on your watch...

Quick as a flash, the Lamordian appeared at Sascha's side, whispering just loudly enough to be heard by Lia and Tomas as well.

"He is going to teleport out with it to the Grand Opera House, where he has arranged arcane signals upon the floor; there will be living hostages, reinforcements, and at least one shapeshifter-jackal."

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"He'll have to break through the spells that de Casteele put on the pedestal, first," Lia whispers back, for her teammates' ears only. "Let him. I do not object if our enemies whittle each other down a little before we have to take the stage against them."

[Kaitou Kage]

"Maybe we should get there now," Kuzan said, "We may be able to warn people, get them out before too much happens."

[NeoTiamat]

Guignol Auditorium, University of Dementlieu, Port-a-Lucine, Dementlieu
September 18th, 761, 2:17 PM; Day 184 of the Menetnashte Expedition
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Charles, always one to keep his head in a crisis, leaps to the fallen Councilor's side and takes him by the wrist. "Get down, there may be another shot!" he cries to the rest of the council. Looking down at the fallen figure, he shakes his head at Kuzan and Andre. "It's no good. He's gone."

For one gone, Dominic D'Honaire grasped Charles's hand with the last vestiges of his strength. Those piercing, deep-set eyes met Martel's for a moment, even as D'Honaire tried once more to work his shattered throat muscles into speech.

Then the mob of courtiers descended on the two men. Helping hands tried to sit D'Honaire up while voices called for doctors. The room erupted into chaos as people tried to reach D'Honaire, or alternatively to reach the exits, getting away from the scene of the assassination. Actual medical personnel, professors who had studied at the University's School of Medicine, tried to push through the crowd only to be stymied by the chaotic swirl of people. It was havoc.

And in it all, for all the suggestions and well-meaning manhandling, no help reached the Councilor. With a last, inscrutable look at Charles, Dominic D'Honaire's hand went limp, and the light faded from his eyes. He was dead, and no medical or mystical science could save him now.

Outside, blue-black lightning flashed. In stark contradiction to all laws of nature, the University grounds were covered in knee-deep mist.

You want me to abet your assassination, is that it, Charles? Kuzan thought. His gold eyes flicked briefly to D'Honaire again. Even from here, the priest could see the man was quite dead. The window for using prayer to save him at the last second already passed. Just this once, Charles. And only because Guy deserves redemption.

He cast Charles one more look, a glance that seemed to say, "I understand. I don't like it, but I understand," and then crouched down by his chair. He watched the room, trying to keep an eye on Ramsey and on the Eye itself.

This proved easier to say than to do. In that instant of confusion, Adrian Ramsey had disappeared without a trace. No sign of the professor remained, and even scanning for trace magics failed to reveal any clue to the necromancer's whereabouts. And from the concerned look on Pierre Lacomte's face as he muttered syllables of Draconic under his breath, Cavendish had similarly disappeared from the serpent-ringed mens' perception.

Lord de Casteelle still stared at the late Dominic D'Honaire, precious seconds slipping away in his shock. Then the magus collected himself and turned back to the Eye, even as the rest of the Brotherhood converged upon the podium.

"Protect the Eye!" One of the serpent-ringed men, Eonarda Roeccha, Director of the Brautslava Institute, suddenly cried out. Without hesitating, he snatched the spindle-shaped gem from its podium and rushed into the crowd. There was a tense moment as arcane energy flooded through the air, but the wards were proof against every entity in the world... save the five Brothers that created them and De Casteelle.

Roeccha rushed into the crowd, thrusting the Eye into his coat. In bare moments, another of the serpent-ringed men, the giant Lamordian, Lorenz, had forced his way through the crowd and tackled the man in a flying leap that likely sent Roeccha's brain rattling. A third Brother, dour Armand Dupin from Falkovnia, rushed to Lorenz's side, kneeling to check the downed Roeccha's coat. He came up in a moment, blinking confusedly.

"It's gone."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

While this was happening, Ambassador Marcos Vedarrak of the Falkovnia had kept his calm, rising from his seat and walking a little out of the way of the crowd. It was unlikely that the Dementlieuse would appreciate his help in reviving D'Honaire anyway.

From a pocket, Vedarrak pulled out a small, carven statuette of a leonine dog, an onyx Foo Dog from across the Sea of Sorrows. Murmurring an incantation, Vedarrak threw it to the ground, and as it hurtled through the air it grew swiftly, till what landed was a stone dog the size of a mastiff. Vedarrak withdrew a small, open vial of some clear liquid and held it before the Foo Dog's stone muzzle.

"Go-shen" Marcos Vedarrak commanded, and the stone Foo Dog turned on its feet, the great, lion-like head searching through the crowd until it pointed, unerringly, at one of the noblemen who was looking for a way out of this madhouse of murder. He looked unassuming, a little sallow-featured, young, who had almost reached a door. Vedarrak smiled a little, and placed a hand on the Foo Dog's stone shoulder, whispering an incantation.

In a heartbeat, they stepped from the shadows of the doorway, straight in front of the quick-moving nobleman. The fleeing aristocrat skidden to a halt as Vedarrak drew his ceremonial longsword and pointed its very practical end at the aristocrat. The look of sheer, unadulterated hatred that flashed across his face was impressive.

The rest of the serpent-ringed men, though confused and in the case of Roeccha quite bruised, turned their attention to the scene at hand. Already, Pierre Lacomte and Armand Dupin prepared counterspells beneath their breath, their eyes never leaving the noble's face. Lorenz rose off Roeccha, who shook his head a few times and got to his feet, the two men now converging to where Vedarrak held the aristocrat at bay.

"Shahr Nepronzikamiy." Vedarrak said pleasantly. The stone dog at his side pointed unerringly at the aristocrat even as a spherical cage of force sprung into existence around him. "G'Afternoon, Cavendish."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was another flash of blue-black lightning, right above the hall. Menetnashte was here, standing at the back of the room, unseen but by you.

[DocBeard]

Did he not get out?, Tomas thinks, Or is this another fake? How can Vedarrak tell? Tomas closes his eyes, sending his spiritual sight out in an attempt to try and hone in on the unholy aura of the fiend trapped within the Eye of Anubis. Is it still here...? Is it still in the city?

Tomas's hand lazily touches the white ring given to him so long ago by Ivor, the ghostly dwarf.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

'This is not how I expected this evening to go,' Lia muses. 'No, indeed. Not at all how I --' The mage's eyes catch a glimpse of someone she'd wanted to ask something of, a desire in which she was thwarted on the best of grounds, assuredly. 'But as long as we are all stuck in here ...'

Swiftly, Lia snatches an errant pebble off of the floor, and lobs it in the direction of that 'gentleman' - 'Bah! Gentleman, indeed!' - going by Samael Maleagant of late. Provided the inoffensively hurled object - aimed to fall lightly upon his shoulder, and definitely not big enough to cause serious injuries - catches the Dilisnya scion's attention, Lia's gestures to him to; 'Come over here! Quick!'

Even if Maleagant wants out, right now he's stuck inside with the rest of them. Maybe he can be useful one last time. Maybe ...

[yalenusveler]

Everything happened so fast that events nearly became a blur for Andre. At one moment, he was ready to make a speech with all the needless pomp and pomposity that such things all but demanded. Then, a bullet claimed the life of a member of the council of brilliance, fog was everywhere, and people were making a mad dash for the eye.

And then Andre turned back towards the entrance, and saw who happened to be there, his mouth making a vain attempt to form some sort of sentence, mouth some opinion, some grand decree which would help put this whole affair to rest.

Instead, all he could manage was a quiet, muted "She's here.."

[Kaitou Kage]

"We need to get to the opera house," Kuzan hissed to his companions, "Quickly. Cavendish can teleport. That spell will only hold him for so long."

[NeoTiamat]

Guignol Auditorium, University of Dementlieu, Port-a-Lucine, Dementlieu
September 18th, 761, 2:18 PM; Day 184 of the Menetnashte Expedition
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Swiftly, Lia snatches an errant pebble off of the floor, and lobs it in the direction of that 'gentleman' - 'Bah! Gentleman, indeed!' - going by Samael Maleagant of late. Provided the inoffensively hurled object - aimed to fall lightly upon his shoulder, and definitely not big enough to cause serious injuries - catches the Dilisnya scion's attention, Lia's gestures to him to; 'Come over here! Quick!'

Maleagant, for his part, had along with all the rest of the crowd gaped as Dominic D'Honaire met his untimely end at an assassin's bullet. But the Borcan, unlike most of the Dementlieuse dandies and overstuffed academics here, recovered quickly, and immediately started looking for a clear exit. Things were only going to get messier from here on out.

Eonarda Roeccha's theft of the Eye and Vedarrak's coup with the Onyx Foo Dog only lent greater urgency to Maleagant's search. But the vagaries of seating had left Jervis and Lily far from the Borcan, who sat next to Andre. So it was that when Lia's pebble hit him on the shoulder, he was already working towards the bulk of the group.

Samael moved through the crowd quickly, ducking under arms and slipping between bodies. Here, at least, his short stature was an advantage. He reached you quickly enough, eyes sweeping over the Expedition.

"Everyone alright? No one hit?" Samael's gaze flicked to Lily, then to Jervis. "Come on, Jervis can bull us an exit out of here, let's not be here if things get any worse. And what do you want, Lia?"

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

Lord de Casteelle was not quite as quick on the ball as the Borcan, but then he had the excuse of being eighty years old. Nevertheless, now that Vedarrak had captured the rogue arcanist, he strode towards spherical cage.

"I expected a distraction from you." Lord Balfour de Casteelle hissed. "But to murder a Councilor? Here? Now? You shame the reputation of the University, Ramsey."

The sallow-faced aristocrat ignored De Casteelle's words. Inside that cage of arcane force, he gazed only at Vedarrak, a look of such frightening intensity that it should've scorched the Falkovnian where he stood.

"Well, you've lost, Ramsey. You tried, you lost, and now you'll die. I'm almost tempted to turn you over to the mundane authorities." Lord de Casteelle said with a certain vicious joy. "Do you know their punishment for treason, Ramsey? You'd be hanged, drawn, and quartered."

"Let us be calm now! There is no need to panic, the assassin is caught." De Casteelle said, the enchantment that had made his voice louder now letting him be heard over the din. "As you can see, no one steals from the University, and no murderer will escape. Not while we are here."

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

Instead, all Andre could manage was a quiet, muted "She's here..."

Menetnashte floated through the main entrance of the Auditorium, her ebony robes billowing around her. Her jackal-mask fitted snugly over her face, and the only hint of color, the only hint of light, came from the clouded grey shamshir at her side.

Outside, the Anubite's thunderstorm smashed lightning towards the ground again and again. The roll of thunder was almost constant, here in the storm's eye. The Mists, meanwhile, rose and rose higher still, roiling and twisting in start contrast to Menetnashte's spell-winds. Soon, they would be higher than a man's chest.

The Port-a-Lucine afternoon was dark as night.

[Nathan of the FoS]

Charles stares down at the dying Councilor and feels...nothing. As a soldier of Dementlieu he ought to be...well...if not enraged, at least alarmed and eager to seek out the assassin. As a participant (however peripheral) in the assassination, triumph? Or guilt? As one of d'Honaire's victims, relief?

If any such feelings are in his heart, they're doing their best to keep themselves back.

Charles keeps his grip until he's sure the old rakehell is really dead, then moves aside and lets the medicos have at it. Ezra bless you, Guy, he thinks. Now, run, and take Michael with you.

Charles intends to do the same himself, of course. But there's just a bit of business to attend to first.

"Jervis! Your inimitable talents are soon to make their utility felt. Care to help apprehend a suspect?"

Charles doesn't wait for an answer, instead hastening toward Cavendish and muttering, gesturing to the Expedition members he trusts as he goes. "If Ramsey runs, we follow. If the mages get him, I'll try to lift the Eye, and we go to the Opera House. Yes?"

Casting glibness, then message, and communicating with the PCs, Sarari, and Carter.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"I was wondering whether you might like to help repay Ramsey a little for all he has done for us over the course of our trip," Lia replies to Sam, her voice unusually calm for the occasion. "We have a fairly good idea of where he will run once he gets out of this trap. I do not expect him to die here -- but we may yet grant him that gift, if all goes well, and your merry little group's assistance would be invaluable."

[NeoTiamat]

Guignol Auditorium, University of Dementlieu, Port-a-Lucine, Dementlieu
September 18th, 761, 2:19 PM; Day 184 of the Menetnashte Expedition
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


"Are you out of your mind?" Samael asked. Then he shook his head. "On second thought, don't answer that. Volodya, we'll make for the door to the left of the stage, if you don't mind."

"Seems like the Brotherhood has all the loose ends wrapped up on their own." Lily added as Samael helped her over the row of chairs in front. "I'm sure they'll be fine."

Jervis said nothing. He just headed for the door. He didn't have his sword or his gauntlet with him, but it would still be inadvisable to stand in front of him just now.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"If that is what you really want to do, Iosef Dilisnya," Lia whispers, "then that is what you must do. Farewell." She does not look at the fleeing members of the Conspiracy, but returns to watching the drama unfolding between Ramsey and the Brotherhood.