The Shattered City: Chapter Five

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"Someone else with guns, knives and garrottes, I imagine?" Lia suggests once she has recovered from the shock. "It's been a bad night all around. What happened to the Professor?" If allowed to, she moves closer to the doors to Marchand-Renier's rooms -- though not directly in front of them -- and calls out: "Professor Marchand-Renier, it's Lia Mourneswaithe here, along with the others from Château Malchance! Let's please not have a repeat from Qarnam-Quse, shall we?"

[NeoTiamat]

Le Retraite de Manoir, North of Port-a-Lucine, Midday of June 8th, 770
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"Someone else with guns, knives and garrottes, I imagine?" Lia suggests once she has recovered from the shock. "It's been a bad night all around. What happened to the Professor?"

“Damned if I know.” Christophe said with a broad shrug. “He shot Bertram, though Bertie probably deserved it. Only a flesh-wound, anyway.”

“He received a letter from Herself earlier this morning.” Felise Renier said simply, deciding that high explosives were not going to be required and making the canister disappear into a dress pocket. “He’s been rather erratic since. I thought it best to put a guard up.”

“We’ve been worried.” Christophe said earnestly.

"Professor Marchand-Renier, it's Lia Mourneswaithe here, along with the others from Château Malchance! Let's please not have a repeat from Kamarn-Quse, shall we?"

“Ah, Lia. Ezra bless. Your lovely voice offers up the possibility that I haven’t yet managed to doom us all.” Marchand-Renier’s voice sounded. It was a subtle thing, but he sounded somehow different, his words softer than the Richemuloise academic’s usual hard-edged diction. “Tell me, is everyone safe, is everyone well? Where’s Remy?”

The two twins, who had stopped talking when Lia and the others had suddenly appeared, exchanged a glance before looking back towards Felise. Their older cousin nodded, and Bertriz pulled out a key from her dress and unlocked the door to Marchand-Renier’s bedroom.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"All of us who were at the Château are alive and here, apart from the two professors," Lia replies. "This despite the efforts of a squad of assassins. The available evidence seems to imply that they were sent by the descendants of our old enemy with the owl. You remember him, right? I would personally like more evidence, though.

I am afraid we could not find Remy. May I come in, Sebastian? There was an attack on professor Devereux as well." Lia puts her hand on the doorknob, and waits for the answer.

[Nerit]

Nerit gave a most polite incline of her head to the Renier cousins, implying more than a casual respect--perhaps for something they'd done?

"If I may beg your pardon, Mademoiselle...who is 'Herself?'" she asked in a low voice.


Diplomacy 33 on Felise. Of course, when it probably doesn't matter.
EDIT: To clarify, that was a critical.

[Nathan of the FoS]

Mercator maintains his customary deadpan until Felise is revealed to be carrying some sort of infernal device, at which point he looks alarmed. He looks, if anything, more alarmed at the Reniers' apparent sang froid at shooting one another. "Er...good afternoon," he says to the group at large. Apparently deciding there's nothing safer and more profitable to do, he moves near the door himself, carefully maintaining himself out of the line of fire.

[yalenusveler]

Kerrian was in the unenviable position of feeling rather like he was somehow responsible for putting a good amount of people that he didn't know in danger. And here he was supposed to have moved into the Chateau to establish something remotely resembling "normalcy". Whatever that meant anymore.

There wasn't much he could offer at the moment, not quite knowing the Reniers well enough to offer comment or condolence worth mentioning. So instead he retreated into his thoughts, and found there not comfort, but simply more worry.

And when worried, Kerrian began to pace, trying not to get in the way of others being his only concession at the moment.

[The Whistler]

"All of us who were at the Château are alive and here, apart from the two professors,"

"Yes, hello!" Celeste leaned in behind Lia in a transparent attempt to be equally acquaintancely. "It is I, Celeste Viardot, of Bienassis!"

The available evidence seems to imply that they were sent by the descendants of our old enemy with the owl.

".......We met at the Museum!" Celeste paused, decided she couldn't compete with five years of shared history and life-or-death experiences, and resolved to be as placating as possible anyway. "I assure you, Sir--and may I add that it is a particular pleasure to meet you once again!--that we are distinctly capable of warding off any species of jeopardy we might encounter...though I should perhaps except myself from that number, as I am of somewhat inexperienced character as regards such matters. We hope that you find yourself likewise!"

[lostboy]

"Bonjour mes dames et monsieurs, it would seem fun and games are the order of the day for all in this fair city today." Nicolas observes blandly eyeing the evident explosive device with interest (or if he's honest a twinge of sphincter loosening fear). Then deciding not to bother with further platitudes as there are people in the room a) with adrenaline running through them and b) armed with high explosives, he ambles over the Bertram to see what assistance he can provide.

"Nice to see you again monsieur, care to let Doctor examine the wound?" He says gesturing towards Mercator,"or perhaps a drink to fortify you?" he asks proffering the flask. "Or even care to elaborate on what the bloody hell has been going on that involves bullets having to be dug out of family members?"

"You could also, once your strength returns perhaps enlighten me as to what you'd like me to do with the gift you bestowed on me when we last met?" This last one is delivered in a undertone for only Bertram's ears.

OOC:

Perception: 26 / Heal: 21 to examine Bertram's Wound ( whichever is more relevant)
Streetwise: 25 on the mention of "herself" and Reniers in general

[Kaitou Kage]

Rex poked his nose out of the shadows when Bertram and Bertriz appeared. The pharmacist took a look at Bertram and slunk past Nic.

"Alcohol," he said, a touch stiffly, "is not so good for wound treatment." The pharmacist plucked a few small containers out of his jacket, then glanced over his shoulder. And frowned.

"Doctor," Rex called across the room to the retreating doctor, "We have, ah, a medical emergency. Your assistance and skill at first aid is required. Mr. Renier, sit if you please."

Made a successful assist check on Nic's Heal.

[lostboy]

Alcohol," he said, a touch stiffly, "is not so good for wound treatment."

"Depends entirely on the nature of the wound monsieur, some are more grevious than mere flesh and blood. For those alcoholic intoxication is a most pleasant means of treatment unless of course there is the possibility of other ah....medication."

And it should have been obvious even to the most straight-laced society matron what Nicolas was babbling about, although whether he was propositioning Rex for future transactions of supply and demand or perhaps was merely keeping up a stream of verbal diarrhoea to stupefy all those within earshot was a matter of opinion.

[NeoTiamat]

Le Retraite de Manoir, North of Port-a-Lucine, Midday of June 8th, 770
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"If I may beg your pardon, Mademoiselle...who is 'Herself?'"

“A family nickname for Uncle Sebastian’s aunt.” Felise Renier said. For a moment, it seemed like that would be all the information that would be forthcoming from the explosives-toting woman, but then she relented. “The Grande Dame, Lady Jacqueline Renier herself.”

“De facto ruler of Richemulot, one of the most powerful aristocrats in the Core,” Felise ticked off the relevant facts on her fingers. Very long, delicate fingers, those. “…Probably one of the most beautiful women in Richemulot, and certainly one of the most cunning, and the master of our little clan.”

"Nice to see you again monsieur, care to let Doctor examine the wound?" He says gesturing towards Mercator,"or perhaps a drink to fortify you?"

"Doctor," Rex called across the room to the retreating doctor, "We have, ah, a medical emergency. Your assistance and skill at first aid is required. Mr. Renier, sit if you please."

“I shall take the drink and skip the doctorly attention, if it’s all the same to you.” Bertram Renier said, offering up a little smile that was roughly halfway between charming and annoying. “The only thing wounded is my pride, and that can be salved with enough ‘fortification’.

What was peculiar about the situation was that Bertram seemed to be right. Up-close, he most certainly had a bullet-hole in his shirt. Sebastian Marchand-Renier was no marksman, but he was perfectly capable of hitting a large target at point-blank range. The bullet had gone into Bertram in the upper-torso, and it was a good-sized bullet. There was plenty of blood on the shirt, so for at least a little while Bertram had been bleeding like a stuck pig.

But he was moving, by all signs, without pain. At the very minimum, the bullet had bounced off a rib, which likely should’ve cracked it or shredded the muscle of the upper chest, either of which should’ve been excruciatingly painful. Otherwise, it would have punctured a lung and Bertram would be coughing up blood. Except Bertram, while certainly bloody, and with a hole in his shirt, looked to be more or less fine.

"You could also, once your strength returns perhaps enlighten me as to what you'd like me to do with the gift you bestowed on me when we last met?" This last one is delivered in a undertone for only Bertram's ears.

“Oh, just give it back. Do you have it with you?” Bertram said, not making the least bit of effort to keep his voice down. He grinned at Nicolas. “How’d your assignation go with Mademoiselle Athene go?

"Depends entirely on the nature of the wound monsieur, some are more grevious than mere flesh and blood. For those alcoholic intoxication is a most pleasant means of treatment unless of course there is the possibility of other ah....medication."

“Listen to the man, he speaks sense.” Bertram proclaimed. His sister just sighed.

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"I am afraid we could not find Remy. May I come in, Sebastian? There was an attack on professor Devereux as well."

“Damn it black.” Marchand-Renier said softly. There was a lengthy pause, as for once the scholar’s words failed him. All the Reniers were gifted with quick-tongues and speedy wits, and Marchand-Renier was a man who had made his career out of words and languages. But at the moment, he just had nothing to say. Nothing that could make it better. “Come in.”

He sounded tired.

"I assure you, Sir--and may I add that it is a particular pleasure to meet you once again!--that we are distinctly capable of warding off any species of jeopardy we might encounter

Sebastian Marchand-Renier was alone in his bedroom, seated against a small writing desk, and resting his head in his hands. He looked like an old man. You knew that Marchand-Renier was on the far side of fifty, but aside from some silver in his raven hair, it didn’t often come up. Reniers were slow to show the signs of age, and the professor was no different from the rest. Most of the time, he looked handsome and dignified, and was still considered an eligible bachelor about the campus (though the limitless wealth of the Marchand-Reniers also had something to do with this). Now however, he looked old, lined and weathered, as though he’d aged a decade since you’d last seen him.

There was a pistol on the desk, the same device that had put an extra hole into Bertram. There was also an open bottle of brandy, and to judge from the smell of the room, it was not the first.

“Are you?” Marchand-Renier said, his voice low and dangerous. “Ah sweet youth, to think yourselves so invulnerable. And when they come again? Do you think they’d just send a few killers every time, waiting for you to be together, and you’ll never have a run of bad luck? Yours must be a wonderful world to live in, where all things go so well.”

[lostboy]

Nicolas hands the flask to Bertram, "be my guest monsieur, a '65 armagnac , which should certainly invigorate the system." He pauses a moment in slight consternation at Bertram's rude health.

"Not that it appears you need much invigorating. Heavens I wish I could shrug off a bullet with such sang froid. My scars appear to linger as rather forcible reminders of my foolishness." He says pulling down his collar to display the livid scar of a rope burn running round his neck.

“How’d your assignation go with Mademoiselle Athene go?

Nicolas tips him and his sister a wink, "that would be telling, now wouldn't it? Let us just say it was informative and not altogether unpleasant."

"Now as to this" he shrugs withdrawing the box from his satchel and scattering quills, a cigarette case and a battered snuff box on the floor. "It is your property Monsieur, feel free to have it back, but perchance you wish to tell me what I have been carrying around these last few weeks?"

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"Leave her be, Sebastian," Lia says. "She is... young, yet."

The Mage raises an eyebrow at the brandy bottle. "Your aunt must write very interesting letters," she says. "May I ask what she had to say to set you off like this? And regardless the answer, I should like to invite you to come with us, wherever we end up going. There may not always be safety in numbers, but at least we would be able to watch one another's backs once again.

Also, I should like your advice. If the Brotherhood is moving like this, I feel it past time to send some warning letters to Darkon, Lamordia and Sri Raji. You probably know some ways to get them there post-haste without the wrong people intercepting them, hmm?"

Although she is talking in a businesslike manner, Lia moves with some care, putting the bottle away and laying a hand on Marchand-Renier's shoulder if he will allow it.

[Nerit]

Nerit nodded to Felise Renier with appreciation. A rich family, and headed with enough power to knock down another patriarch in a crisis. "A most formidable lady, indeed," she replied with a small smile.

She inched toward the doorframe to Marchand-Renier's bedroom but went no further. With a glance back at Nicolas, the nun said, "Perhaps the bottle should be passed when there is something to celebrate, Monsieur. Though we are all alive...everyone's sharpest wits are required now."

[lostboy]

"Perhaps the bottle should be passed when there is something to celebrate, Monsieur. Though we are all alive...everyone's sharpest wits are required now."

"Is that a promise sister?" Nicolas responds with a twinkle in his eye. The poet was well aware of the absurdity of the situation, not that that held him back from giving it a healthy dose of tongue in cheek...