The Shattered City: Chapter One

[Rock of the Fraternity]

Lia gives monsieur Agale a dark look. "What you need to know about Vedarrak is simple," she states bluntly. "He is a killer and a leader of killers. A monster in human skin. When you face Vedarrak, you see one of the faces of evil in our world, and I am not being overly dramatic when I say so. When any of you face the ambassador" - Lia fairly spits this word - "watch your words. He is shrewd and ruthless. Give him nothing that he might use against you, and do not allow him to rattle you into showing weakness. For weakness is a hole in your defence that he can launch attacks through. The last time I saw him, he was equally as dangerous with the sword as he was with magic, so do not believe him weak in any sense of the word. Think of him as a mortal enemy you hadn't met yet, but with whom you are now to converse politely."

[NeoTiamat]

The Rondelet Residence, Quartier-Savant, Port-a-Lucine; March 10th, 770, 6:23 PM
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"What you need to know about Vedarrak is simple," she states bluntly. "He is a killer and a leader of killers. A monster in human skin. When you face Vedarrak, you see one of the faces of evil in our world, and I am not being overly dramatic when I say so."

"Our last encounter with him was not resolved entirely to our satisfaction," Professor Lessard quietly understated. "Professor Mourneswaithe is correct, he is not a man to be underestimated in any capacity. We can try to tell you anything you want to know about the man, failing that, there's Professor Theroux and Professor M. They could write a four volume set on how much they dislike the man."


The Chateau Malchance, Quartier Marchand, Port-a-Lucine; March 10th, 770, 6:58 PM
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The thick smell of oranges and cinnamon permeated the house as you all trickled in. Despite all of your absences until a moment ago, the Chateau Malchance was alive when you entered it. The sound of simmering issues from the kitchen, with a few random clinks of metal spoons to accompany it. Richard Blackwood were sitting in the dining room, dressed in a black coat for the evening, flipping through the newspaper; Alice wandered between him and the kitchen, setting a pair of porcelin cups on the table. You could hear the sounds of idle chatter from the Commons room at the end of the entryway. Your entrance quickly caught the attention of the inhabitants.

"Good evening!" Alice said, smiling warmly at the ragtag mob that had arrived. "It was getting late, I was a bit worried. Would you care for some orange cider? I had been making it in the kitchen, but the, um, little wisp seems to have taken over."

Indeed, you glimpsed an empty pitcher floating around the kitchen, born aloft by a slender tendril of smoke.

"Thank everyone's respective deities you're back," Andre said, from where he sat in the Commons. The professor threw his cards down on the table, quickly rising to greet you all. "Tomas, Lia, assuage my curiosity and tell me how it went. And even more importantly, save me from these card sharks before I owe Prof. Petrik the rest of next year's Theology budget."

"Liar. We're not playing for money. Still, I hope the rest of you have had better luck than Theroux, in investigation and whist," Marchand-Renier's voice carried out behind him. The group at the card table, having seemingly all decided that games were at an end, all rose up in turn and began to trail towards the kitchen. Professor Petrik, having the most tricks piled up next to her seat, took it upon herself to shuffle the cards.

"If I didn't know better, I would swear that Chastel was deliberately avoiding us," Theroux complained. "And since I don't know better... it becomes all the more irritating that I can't find her." The professor settled into a heavy pace next to the table. Richard casually reached out and scooted a few outlying chairs out of Andre's path.

[The Whistler]

"Good evening!" Alice said, smiling warmly at the ragtag mob that had arrived. "It was getting late, I was a bit worried. Would you care for some orange cider? I had been making it in the kitchen, but the, um, little wisp seems to have taken over."

“How lovely! Thank you, Mlle. Blackwood—and thank you, M. Favonious!” Celeste bowed politely to the elemental as she took a glass; while she may not have met an animated smoke wisp before yesterday, that was no reason not to be courteous. Then again: “Or…is it Mlle. Favonious? Do forgive me if I address you erroneously!”

”If I didn't know better, I would swear that Chastel was deliberately avoiding us," Theroux complained. "And since I don't know better... it becomes all the more irritating that I can't find her."

“Heavens! One must hope that she has not fallen victim to some mishap! It is one matter when misadventure threatens a nation’s treasured objets d’art, but the curator herself…oh, but I forget that I am in the company of the adventuring class!” She laughed lightly. “If we were to receive proof of her endangerment, I daresay that she should find herself rescued with all speed.” She grinned at the assembled crowd appreciatively, as if fully expecting them to start strapping on plate armor and saddling up at a suitably dramatic moment.

[yalenusveler]

"She had an argument with a poet who has the ability to make all his domestic staff abandon him except for one unfortunate who rather dislikes him. Oh, and he called her a stupid turtle" Kerrian said, glad to be home...and still trying to get over the fact that this WAS home, oh and the general idiocy of calling someone a stupid turtle.

"Oh, and apparently she wouldn't return the Mirror to its owner, despite his requests, causing him to become rather displeased. Is there any chance that Chastel would have a reason of her own for stealing the items in question? Because the two we talked to today...didn't seem capable."

Kerrian then gladly helped himself to the cider. "And I may have become part of the social scene. But that's the least of our worries."

[DocBeard]

"...I have no idea if you're being sarcastic or not." A bleary eyed Tomas admits to Celeste, wiping his face with his hand and pulling his hat off. There is a steel flask(With a dwarf rune for "DANGER: KEEP AWAY FROM FLAME" carved roughly on the front.) inside of the hat, which is unscrewed and poured into a wine glass. "Only I've never seen so many imperative sentences used sincerely outside of pre-battle oration." Tomas pours bubbling water into the glass, then puts a piece of wax paper over the top, picks the glass up, and liberally shakes it six times.

When he removes the paper, the fizzing beverage is smoking. Resealing the flask, Tomas puts his hat on the hat rack, picks his drink up, and swigs it down in one enormous gulp. It hits him like a fist to the face, and Tomas has to stand up straight(gosh, he's tall) for a moment to reacclimate himself to the universe. "I wish Martel was here." Tomas dispares, counting his fingers because a second ago he was sure he had seven instead of five and that might be off. "He'd know how to handle this..."

Tomas shakes his head, seeming to come back to himself a little. "You could've warned me." Tomas accuses Andre, and by extension the entire poker playing faculty. "That was a hell of a thing to see unprepared."

[Nerit]

Nerit bobbed her head and smiled as everyone reunited in the Chateau Malchance. There were faint, utterly contradictory hints of other things behind her smile, though: relief, consternation.

Inspired by Tomas somehow, she thanked Alice for the orange cider and helped herself regardless of the alcoholic content.

'Perrine,' 'Perrine,' she repeated in her head. A Mordentish name. It meant 'stone.' But what did that have to do with the cross symbol in the room?

"Tcha," Nerit clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes, catching herself. She had other things to worry about.

So instead, she scanned the group over the rim of her cup until her eyes fell to the Lawgiver priest. Pompous, pretentious, misguided. He clearly harbored condescension for her. Yet he did for everyone. No, she did not like his attitude in their searches today. And while she hadn't been there, it was implied he had botched the interview with the Apothecary. What to do with a man like that? Stumbling around behind dark-shaded glasses...it was the greatest physical metaphor she had ever seen, if such a thing were possible.

Nerit could barely contain a burst of laughter and brought her hand over her mouth, hiding a grin. She quickly sipped the orange cider.

[Nathan of the FoS]

At this propitious (?) moment, the kitchen door swings open to reveal the other dark-glasses-wearing priest of the Lawgiver.

"Smells good!" he comments to no-one in particular and making his way across the kitchen. "Where did you go, brother?" he asks Cyrus. "When I came downstairs after getting the room squared away the place was deserted."

[Cronax]

With a vacant look out into the room, Mr. Agale rubbed his eyes and absentmindedly secured a glass of cider. He sniffs the liquid expermentally then takes a sip, and turns acutely pallid. Suppressing an urge to retch, he steels himself and manages to swallow. Whomever declared that you cannot compare apples to oranges must have been a cider drinker he thought. After some concerted effort, he manages to set the glass down firmly on an end table.

He eyes Mr. Mauganson with a disapproving glare, then pointly shifts his eyes toward the professors Petrik and Lemercier hoping the young man would understand his meaning.

[NeoTiamat]

The Chateau Malchance, Quartier Marchand, Port-a-Lucine; March 10th, 770, 7:02 PM
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—and thank you, M. Favonius!” Celeste bowed politely to the elemental as she took a glass; while she may not have met an animated smoke wisp before yesterday, that was no reason not to be courteous. Then again: “Or…is it Mlle. Favonius? Do forgive me if I address you erroneously!”

The slender tendril of grey smoke undulated in what may or may not have been acknowledgement of the bow. It then floated back to the kitchen, pausing only for a moment as Prof. Lemercier deftly plucked a glass of orange cider as well.

"You need not fret, my dear girl. Favonius is quite indifferent to the proprieties of mortal society, a facet of his personality that makes him quite invaluable at fending off solicitors of varied shapes and sizes." Prof. Lemercier said cheerfully, drinking down the cider. "I don't doubt that he, or to be precise, it, has its own sense of elemental ettiquette, but I fear that we are only slowly coming to grasp the elaborate society of the thaumaturgical races. Understanding dwarves and elves is childs play compared to grasping the mind of an entity of ephemeral smoke."

"Is there any chance that Chastel would have a reason of her own for stealing the items in question? Because the two we talked to today...didn't seem capable."

"No more so than anyone else." Professor Theroux said. "Which, considering human greed and human vanity, is a depressingly poor recommendation."

"I take it that the Mirror Brilliant has been stolen from the University? Along with an assortment of other artifacts, it seems. What a fascinating conundrum." Professor Lemercier said, his black-and-grey brows arched, nodding politely to Kerrian. "A lost Mirror, a conspiracy of thieves, intrigue and adventure all about. I feel young again."

"I'll take grand theft larceny under advisement if I'm ever feeling my age." Prof. Marchand-Renier said dryly, favoring Kerrian with a very pointed look. "Regardless, let's focus our attentions on the esteemable curator, shall we?"

"Wonderful. Now she's a suspect. Well, I'll add it to the list of questions I'll ask her." Andre kept pacing. "If that is, I ever actually find her!"

"If I may be so bold as to interrupt, there is one place where Mme. Chastel will be, come what may." Prof. Lemercier said with the air of one unveiling a coup. "The Tessier Gallery. She must attend as curator, after all, if she intends to keep her position."

"You could've warned me." Tomas accuses Andre, and by extension the entire poker playing faculty. "That was a hell of a thing to see unprepared."

"The... Hazlani District?" Prof. Theroux blinked, obviously not quite following the mental steps that Tomas had just moved over. "I admit it's not really the most picturesque part of Port-a-Lucine, but I've always thought it had a delightful ethnic charm to it. Or did you happen to show up on Let's-Burn-Hazlik-in-Effigy Day?"

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"At least you only have to worry about a curator," Lia sighs. "I have Vedarrak on my to-do list for tomorrow." She frowns and clicks her teeth. "You just know he's going to be all urbane at us ... Smarmy bastard."

Shaking her head, Lia returns her attention to the present: "But yes, what did happen in the Rashemi district?"

[DocBeard]

"...Vedarrak." Tomas turns from his accusation, grits his teeth, and opens the grenade cleverly disguised as a flask of potato mash, taking another long swig. Those familiar with it, such as the elementalist in the back, might recognize a faint whiff of ozone, but it's gone as quickly as it comes. "You're not going alone."

Hunching over the table(this does the valuable service of letting Tomas be somewhere near the ground in case Lia decides to set him on fire for telling her what to do.), Tomas slaps his hand on the table. "-it's not fine, but I've been in worse ghettos. No, the woman was guiltless, she had the oil stolen from her shop. Took longer than it should've and we won't have any favors in that part of town, but we followed it to..."

"...I don't remember the proper word. The poor quarter. Ourvare?" Tomas tests the word, moving his lips slowly. "We think the woman who stole the oil is connected to this Ezran chapel, the church of Saint Margarette, but she knew that someone was coming after her, and had done a good job cleaning up after herself. No one knows what she looks like, either, just a bright yellow cloak."

Tomas gives Lemercier a look, making a mental note to speak to him about his opinion regarding dwarves, and then turns to blink at Kerrian. "Wait, you're a socialite now? Damn, boy! You work fast!" Tomas grins at this, clapping Kerrian, who may become suddenly acquainted with the nearest blunt object unless he's quick in bracing himself.

[yalenusveler]

Tomas gives Lemercier a look, making a mental note to speak to him about his opinion regarding dwarves, and then turns to blink at Kerrian. "Wait, you're a socialite now? Damn, boy! You work fast!" Tomas grins at this, clapping Kerrian, who may become suddenly acquainted with the nearest blunt object unless he's quick in bracing himself.

It was only due to realizing what a mistake he made, and trying to give both Agale and Marchand-Renier rather apolagetic glances that Kerrian didn't have time to brace himself, fortunately not leading to head trauma, just a bit of undignified staggering. "I..kind of brought up the charity ball idea at a Salon?" Not quite sure if he was using the proper word. "The person responsable apparently thought it was a great idea. "

Kerrian's face suggested he was just beginning to realize that he had quite likley bitten off more than he could chew. Though it was quite likely to Celeste that he could probably manage to look rather dashing with a proper cravat.

"About this Vedarrak, why does everyone talk about him like he's some sort of.." Kerrian used a word in low mordentish that didn't quite properly have a translation in the more elegant tounge of High Mordentish, mostly because speakers of the high tounge would like to think they didn't need words that specifically meant "beast that enjoys consuming the entrails of your family while forcing you to watch helplessly." Ahh, the joy of compound words. "I mean, he's Falkovnian, and no one really likes him...but aren't you all taking it a BIT too far?"

[Kaitou Kage]

Shaking her head, Lia returns her attention to the present: "But yes, what did happen in the Rashemi district?"

"The Hazlani district," Cyrus corrected shortly, "And that area was more charming than most of this city. Nevertheless, Eisenwald has most of it. Except that it is St. Madeleine, not Margarette."

He swiveled his gaze to Darius and regarded his twin with the cool gaze of a hunting serpent.

"I went for a walk with some of our new housemates," he said, smiling coolly, "I met a nice Mulan woman, but also got to spend time with two of the many lovely ladies living here." He sidled over toward Nerit and Katja, but also flashed a broad grin at Celeste and Cerise. "A wonderful walk."

He sobered up for an instant. His face displayed a look that Darius knew too well. We must talk later.

Then he was grinning again. He seemed ready to throw his arms around Nerit's or Katja's shoulders. "I think I'll head back to the Hazlani district and visit the baths there after dinner. Care to join me?"

[yalenusveler]

Kerrian was glad for the distraction from the apparent monstrosity of Falkovnian ambassadors by Cyrus' open ended invitation. "What makes the baths in the Hazlani district different from just getting clean?" Asked with the innocence that came from somone trying to adapt to one culture, let alone knowing about others.

[Kaitou Kage]

Cyrus frowned when Kerrian piped up and regarded the man disapprovingly. He was not part of the collective "you" Cyrus was referring to and the dommer was disappointed to see the hairy barbarian be the first to respond.

"It is a deeper, more refreshing and relaxing clean," the Mulan said a little shortly, more for the benefit of his intended targets than for Kerrian. "An experience unto itself."