The Shattered City: Chapter Five

[Nerit]

The little bird gave its comforts to the prone woman and then passed on. It seemed to brighten the expression on her face.

Nerit dropped her hand from Nicolas. "Monsieur, you forget yourself."

Slowly, and delicately, the nun extracted her frame from the poet's grasp and sat up. Since it was morning, and heretofore she had been in her own quarters, her waves were again disorderly and left unmanaged down her shoulders. There were too many times she was caught in her undergarments.

Her gaze focused. Curious, what lay before the two.

Blood. All over Richard's room. It was not his own as he stood by them, for it must have been five liters at the least--the entirety of a man's contents. Not to mention the shards of meat and bone.

"Alice?" Nerit softly called and tried to stand, wincing at the memory of her destroyed leg. And then another thought crossed her mind. "Has he gone? He could be anywhere!"


Nerit gains 16HP or whatnot from kind Thierri.

[Nathan of the FoS]

Mercator looks at the ring Lia displays and frowns slightly. "Oh. That Brotherhood," he says. His frown deepening, he stares at Lia's pocket, to which the ring has been returned, as if he can see the ring right through the cloth. "Turmoil indeed. I have met some few members of the Fraternity, and most did not strike me as the sort to be comfortable breaking into private residences for murderous purposes. Either they have a different character here, or they are desperate."

[lostboy]

"Monsieur, you forget yourself."

Nicolas reluctantly let her leave, before leaning back for a moment on the floor, eyes closed and letting loose a world weary sigh. "It would appear I do" he murmurs.

His eyes snap open, "still no time to be melancholic, no-one important is dead... yet" getting to his feet he hands Richard back the robe and necklace. Doing so exposes his skin, pale, covered in gashes and scars, not least of which proclaims the coming revolution in several inch high letters. "My thanks for your diligence and action Monsieur, life is too precious a thing to be taken lightly" Did his gaze flicker to Nerit as he spoke? "Umm shall I get a mop?" He asks gesturing at the carpet of gore decorating the room.

"...or better yet a drink?" Now that was an idea! Nicolas acts on it immediately heading back towards his room barely paying attention to the crowd in the hallway, except something causes him to pause on his threshold and perform a double-take. "Of course Monsieur Benoit is here, how wonderful" he adds in a deadpan undertone of monologue before vanishing into his room.

Moments later the poet returns at least this time mercifully clad in a shirt and great coat, and an odd slouchy hat pulled low over his eyes, clutching a bottle. "So Mes Dames et Monsieurs, is everyone in rude health? Or do we need a doctor?"

[Isabella]

\Chateau Malchance, Quartier-Marchand, Early Morning of June 8th, 770
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The immediate threat gone, the others in the house began to follow suit, retreating towards their rooms or otherwise going to deal with the mess. Cerise led the newly dubbed "Mr. Asmodeus" along, ruffling its head. It followed, with a red, glass-eyed stare. Thierri walked towards the banister of the stairs, looking at the dead men for a good, long while, his mind not entirely present. He then slowly turned away, and wrapped his arms tightly around Celeste, propriety be damned.

Katja simply shouldered her shield and cleaned off her sword, before walking to Professor Lessard's room and knocking on the door. There was a slight tightening of her jaw when there was no response.

"Alice?" Nerit softly called and tried to stand, wincing at the memory of her destroyed leg. And then another thought crossed her mind. "Has he gone? He could be anywhere!"

Alice blinked slightly at the question. "Has who gone, Sister? The magus is-" Alice leaned out the door to confirm, "-exceptionally dead."

"It would appear I do" he murmurs. His eyes snap open, "still no time to be melancholic, no-one important is dead... yet" getting to his feet he hands Richard back the robe and necklace.

Richard took them back, putting the Holy Symbol back around his neck, though he gingerly set the blood-coated robe aside. He watched the exchange between the nun and the poet rather distantly. Somewhat surprisingly, he put a comforting arm around the poet's shoulder, just for a moment. It was a measured gesture, but genuine. It did not encourage, but it did commiserate.

"Umm shall I get a mop?" He asks gesturing at the carpet of gore decorating the room.

Both Blackwoods immediately looked at the gruesome scene, then glanced at each other. Richard then flicked his eyes down toward the dagger Alice was holding in her hand, and the drops of blood staining her fingers. His sister followed his gaze. They looked at each other once more, and then Richard gently went over and shut the door to his bedroom.

"No, but thank, thank you," he replied quietly. "I, I'll take care of it once this, this is all... settled."

"We should waste no time in reconnoitering the abodes of our eccentric landlord and the Professor Theroux in case they fared less well."

"We must see about Andre and Charles. Old friend" - she turns to Benoit - "do you think your men equal to a challenge such as we faced here? If so, then we must see to the one who has not received the aid you provide."

"Should. They're well trained and well armed," Guy responded. "Most of them are stationed throughout the forest. I sent all the men on hand to Charles' place, but it was further away, and they don't move as fast as I do. Charles might be able to hold his own, but daughter and his wife-"

Benoit broke off into an uncontrolled snarl, gripping the handle of his axe. Lia only caught a glimpse of his maddened eyes before Guy turned them away, but it was enough to make her entire body freeze, just for a second.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"Yes," Lia says, her voice gone flat. "His wife and child. And that filthy beast punctured the wards Charles set about this building, so it could also get through whatever protections our friend put about his own domicile.

... And then there is Professor Marchand-Renier. I worry that he might be under attack as well. We should fix what injuries we need to and get moving."

[Nerit]

Nerit glanced at Richard with a question set on her face, then back to Alice. "I--" she paused. "I cannot go into my quarters alone," she announced. "You may not have heard, ah, Amities? Sodalis? Our Friend? That thing." There was heat in her voice which she could barely suppress.

With that the nun not-quite-hobbled, not-quite-walked two doors down to her common room. It seemed, for the most part, that the true proximity of death had not even touched her soul--if it had, she showed no signs.


Perception 18 on the room. Oh well.

[lostboy]

"I cannot go into my quarters alone," she announced.

"He was here?" Nicolas asks incredulously. "In which case you should most certainly not go in alone." For once there was no levity in the poet's voice and no sign of his former emotion as he joined Nerit outside her door. This was all business and the poet was once again master of his passions.

"I am almost certain he will have fled like a rat from a sinking ship, but let us be sure before we pronounce the day won." he says grimly drawing a pistol and pressing his ear to the door.

OOC: Perception 24 if thats any better?

[The Whistler]

Thierri walked towards the banister of the stairs, looking at the dead men for a good, long while, his mind not entirely present. He then slowly turned away, and wrapped his arms tightly around Celeste, propriety be damned.

Celeste "oofed" in mild surprise, then settled pleasantly into it--this being the sort of thing that, as far as her vague ideas on the subject dictated, one could occasionally do in her circumstances. (In relative private, among understanding friends, as a prelude to some manner of Definititive Commitment.)

As soon as it became appropriate for her to extricate herself, she did her best to bend her logistical energies toward the task at hand. "Well, Mr. _______!" You weren't sure how she managed to pronounce that, but she did. "If your capable gentlemen have applied themselves to a defense of our landlord and his dear ones--and may they meet success in their efforts!--then perhaps it falls to us to mount a similar effort in favor of Professors Theroux or Marchand-Renier. Which maintains a residence closest to our present location?"

[yalenusveler]

"I don't know the other two that well, but I'm worried about our landlord..we were all fairly skilled targets. But his children..not so much, and if something were to happen to them, I don't want to think about what he would do." Kerrian said quietly as he settled into a pace, trying to calm himself more than anything.

"One of the thugs might still be in my room. I..wasn't going to be much use alone against him. He's probably gone by now, or he would've come out to say hello." Kerrian said idly, trying to distract themselves of what their landlord might do in his grief, the possibilities..well, none were good.

[Nathan of the FoS]

Mercator gives Benoit a sharp look as what this rather grisly newcomer has to say sinks in.

"I see," he says. "I think a visit to our landlord is indeed in order."

Stepping into his room, he emerges after a few moments, fully dressed and accoutered. Cane in hand, he taps quickly down the stairs, not waiting for any further discussion.

[NeoTiamat]

Chateau d'Etoiles, Outside of Port-a-Lucine, Morning of June 8th, 770
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Charles Devereux's house was called Le Chateau d'Etoiles, the House of Stars, due to the scores of windows that lined the outside, each one trimmed with silver and gold. You could see them long before you could see the rest of the house, hanging ethereally in the darkness, some lit with candles, some reflecting the moonlight. After many minutes of fighting your way through the dense foliage and roots, you made your way to the fence that surrounded Devereux's property. It was an almost laughable thing, a little white garden fence with a decorative, curling archway, facing off against the behemoth trees of the King's Forest. And yet for some reason, not a single root or branch seemed to touch that little white fence.

Guy tromped up to the gate, intending to barge straight through it, but something seemed to give him pause, and he hesitated. A strange feeling seemed to be hanging in the air, settling heavily on your shoulders as you came closer. The windows seemed to wink and shimmer, like real starlight.

Devereux was standing in the front doorway, waiting for you. Had he been there a second ago?

He was fully dressed, at least, in a rich red shirt and a violet waistcoat, and the off-white breeches that accentuated his resemblance to a stork. He was standing with his back slightly stooped and his neck slightly forward, and his head was slightly tilted to the side. His glasses were catching the full moon in a peculiar way, leaving them to glow with their own reflected light; even then, you had no trouble seeing his violet eyes shining from behind them.

"You're... here," Devereux said, face unreadable. "Do... come in."

A bead of color dripped off his sleeve, splashing crimson onto the ground below.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"We came as soon as..." Lia starts to say. "That is, we were attacked as well, and..." Again, her voice falters, but then she plunges on: "Are you alright, Charles? Your family? We know that Andre's house was attacked as well, we were going there next, then perhaps to Marchand-Renier's..."

[Nerit]

Nerit had finally managed to dress and arm herself properly, once the mirror fragments and Nicolas had been hastily swept from her quarters. Today she wore a dagger on her belt in plain sight and easy reach, propriety be damned.

"Monsieur? Are you all right?" Nerit stressed to Devereux, and gestured her head toward Melanchthon. Perhaps the doctor could help.

21 Perception, 14 Heal. Hurrhurr.

[lostboy]

Nicolas was also thankfully dressed and in a massive break of habit doesn't say much, figuring there were only so many times a man could be asked what had happened, but he does throw a concerned look at Devereux, all the whilst puffing steadily on a cigarette.

OOc: Perception 25, Heal 22 - hey he gets better rolls when he keeps quiet....

[Nathan of the FoS]

As the group crosses the grounds and approaches the house, Mercator looks around with the air of a ship captain testing the weather; apparently he finds conditions navigable, because he has a slight but perceptible air of satisfaction as he bows slightly to Devereaux. "Thank you, Charles. As Professor Mourneswaith says...can we be of any immediate assistance to you or your family? If we can we are certainly at your service. If all is well here, might we be better employed to pressing on to the residence of another of our associates?"