The Shattered City: Chapter Five

[The Whistler]

"Yes...that is to say...Sir Landlord...oh, do inform us as to whether we may be of assistance?"

Celeste was wringing her hands a good bit by now, realizing that effusive sympathy might not be note-perfect at present, but having maddeningly little context as to how appropriate or inappropriate it was.

21 on Insight!

[Kaitou Kage]

Rex's eyes darted to the crimson stain, but he couldn't see enough to figure out what caused the wound. Even with his eyes, accustomed as they were to darkness, there was something about Devereux that threw him off just a bit.

There had been an attack, that much Rex was sure of. Either that or Devereux was horribly clumsy. Whatever the case, small wounds didn't cause drops of blood.

Concerned that other assailants might be in the area, the pharmacist melted into the night, at least until relative safety was assured.

Heal 14 (boo).
Perception 20 (not bad!).
Insight 13 (also boo).
Stealth 32.

I promise I'll try to be less "LOL IM HIDING" this chapter. Right now everyone's covered the "OMG ARE YOU OKAY" bits so I am biding my time til the next bait is dropped.

[NeoTiamat]

Chateau d'Etoiles, Outside of Port-a-Lucine, Morning of June 8th, 770
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


"I am... fine," Devereux replied, his violet, unblinking eyes still unreadable. His sleeve dripped again. It was as if his entire shirt was made not of cloth, but color - another bead of it falling from his shirt, splashing the ground with crimson. The dirt and wood drank hungrily at it, and in a second, the color was gone, leeched into the earth, leaving you to wonder if it had been your imagination.

"Estelle and Christine are...... sleeping now," Devereux said, pausing slightly longer than usual in the midst of his words. "There was... an attack... but I. Took. Care of. It."

The bushes near his door seemed to tremble slightly as he spoke the words. There was something peculiar about their branches, the way the reached out, almost like pleading hands.

"It is... settled. I sent... your men back to the Chateau Malchance... to help," Devereux continued, with a glance to Guy before looking back at the rest of you. "You must have... missed them on the way."

"We'd better get to the others. We can get my men on the way." Guy shouldered his axe, turning to go.

Devereux gave him a piercing look. "It's dangerous... for you to go in to the city," he warned, carefully.

"Like hell if I care," Guy growled.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"Charles?" Lia says as she cautiously draws closer to the older Professor. "Charles. Shh." If Theroux will allow it, Lia puts her arms around him and holds him close for a moment. "You did well to protect them, Charles. You did well. If you like, we can talk later, once we have been to Andre and Sebastian. Alright?"

Lia lets Devereux go again, unhurried, and turns to Guy. "We could at least provide you with a... disguise." The Mage's lips quirk as she pulls an oval of grey felt from one of her pockets and holds it out to him. "Brings back memories, doesn't it? Now. Who would like to ride on magical horses to where we are going?"

[Kaitou Kage]

"If your presence brings danger," Rex said quietly, "Perhaps you should remain behind. Given how often Gauvain of Montmort circles our abode like a vulture, it may not be prudent for us to be seen together." Not that Rex was likely to be seen with anyone, let alone Guy Benoit.

"If you insist on coming with us, I can aid in disguising your identity. It will take some time for the magus to complete her spell."

[Nathan of the FoS]

Mercator bows and smiles slightly--a rather odd expression, more genuine but perhaps less pleasant than Mercator's usual polite smile. "Very well, Charles. Our best to Estelle and Christine, of course."

He attends to the discussion with Benoit about his presence in the city in a way that suggests a careful disinterest in who this person actually is, precisely because it is obvious who he is: the famed bandit Guy Benoit. That such a figure should be on first-name terms with at least two of Mercator's new associates seems to be only mildly surprising to him; but then, he is not easily moved.

[lostboy]

The mention of Benoit and disguise in the same sentence causes Nicolas to cough violently on his cigarette and take to intenesely examining the shrubbery outside Devereux's door for intruders.

[NeoTiamat]

Chateau d'Etoiles, Outside of Port-a-Lucine, Morning of June 8th, 770
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"We could at least provide you with a... disguise." The Mage's lips quirk as she pulls an oval of grey felt from one of her pockets and holds it out to him.

"If you insist on coming with us, I can aid in disguising your identity. It will take some time for the magus to complete her spell."

Guy curled his lip at the felt mask, but obligingly took it. It did not look good on him at all, but there were more important matters right now than appearance. "Don't have time," he growled under his breath. "I'll run on ahead. I'm fast enough in the streets. No chance of you being caught with me that way. Be careful, Lia. It wasn't me who was ambushed. They want you dead."

"I'll... stay here... in case the others do the same as you," Devereux said, still unreadable. "Good... luck."


#179, Rue de la Corniche, Near the University of Dementlieu, Late Morning of June 8th, 770
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Professor Andre Theroux lived outside the city, on the northern promontory jutting down into Pernault Bay. The University of Dementlieu owned a great many townhouses and residences there, which were leased out to academics and some students are exceptionally low prices. Andre lived in one of these, a lovely three-story townhouse looking out across Pernault Bay, the lights of the docks and the distant Theatre de la Baie glimmering in the distance.

The door was unlocked. More than that, it had been picked, with more enthusiasm than skill. This was the first sign that something was very, very wrong.

Inside, the house was a wreck. Furniture had been smashed, books thrown about, a table sheared in half. There was a broken chair lying in the entrance hall, and a chandelier had been pulled free from the ceiling. The destruction was impressive in its scale and its thoroughness. This was the second sign that something was wrong.

Then there was the blood. It was everywhere, painted on the walls, sprayed across the ruined furniture, embedded into the fabric of the carpet. Richard’s room in the Chateau Malchance had been unimaginably bloodied, but it paled to the sheer amounts that had been spread through Theroux’s house. A single person didn’t have this much blood in them. Five people didn’t have this much blood in them. This was the third sign.

There were no bodies anywhere. Not. A. One. This was the fourth sign.

“Andre’s not here.” Guy’s voice called out. The revolutionary chieftain emerged from one of the interior rooms to greet you. He must have heard you enter.

VIEW CONTENT:

Perception Check

[lostboy]

"Bloody Hell!" Nicolas exclaims on crossing the threshold, then looks a little sheepish at the involuntary pun.

OOC: Perception 24

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"Did you find any tracks we might follow?" Lia asks of Benoit, seemingly unaffected by the gore splashed over just about everything. "Anything at all?"

(OOC: Perception 9. Garrgh...!)

[Nerit]

Even Nerit was more than a little shocked by the state of affairs. "By the Lady...why so much wanton destruction?" she muttered. "Were they looking for something?"

All the blood, though, that made no sense.


Perception 16. Fail.

[Nathan of the FoS]

"Blood elemental?" Mercator says, mostly to himself. His customary imperturbability seems rather strained by the grisly scene; he doesn't show any strong reaction, but his jaw works in a way that suggests it's costing him something not to turn and walk out of the room.

Perception 12. Boy, there sure is a lot of blood.

[yalenusveler]

"There's...more blood here than there would be in a lot of people" Kerrian said quietly, surveying the scene but unable to truly offer much insight beyond the simple and unavoidable fact that there was a truly STAGGERING amount of blood present. "Lia...you know him. Could Andre have done this in his own defense, or should we take this as a really bad sign instead of just a bad one?" He asked quietly, looking directly at her in an attempt to NOT look at the blood. Which was already rather difficult, considering it seemed to be just about everywhere.

OOC:Perception of 18. Bleh

[The Whistler]

"Bloody Hell!"

"Sh!" Celeste looked at the poet in mild censure, taking into account the Severity of the Circumstances as a mitigating factor, while nonetheless making it doubly clear that there were Ladies Present and that Certain Epithets were Frowned Upon in Mixed Company.

That done, she was able to focus on the ridiculous amounts of blood...

"My Gracious!"

...And rapidly do exactly what Kerrian was doing, re: attempt to not look at anything and to look at everything, simultaneously.

Perception of 23, which is a surprise.

[NeoTiamat]

#179, Rue de la Corniche, Near the University of Dementlieu, Late Morning of June 8th, 770
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Did you find any tracks we might follow?" Lia asks of Benoit, seemingly unaffected by the gore splashed over just about everything. "Anything at all?"

“No tracks or blood spatters.” Benoit answered easily, stepping over a pool of blood. “Which means no one who was in this fight left the normal way. They’d have dripped.”

Given the way the blood had been splashed all over the townhouse’s atrium, this was hardly an assertion that could be doubted. Anyone involved in the battle royale would’ve been covered in gore.

“Second and third floors are clean, though.” Guy continued.

"Blood elemental?"

"Could Andre have done this in his own defense, or should we take this as a really bad sign instead of just a bad one?"

Without a word, Benoit pointed upwards, towards the ceiling. There, in the wood, were a series of gouge-marks. Something had been hanging from the ceiling not so very long ago, digging sharp claws into the wood. Something with seven digits on each clawed limb, five fingers and two thumbs, each tipped with a claw the size of a dagger.

“What do you think?” Benoit said shortly.