The Shattered City: Chapter Four

[yalenusveler]

Kerrian looked a bit worse for wear having barreled through one of the wraiths, but he at least had the common decency not to look when Celeste was dealing with the small issue of temperature. "Is anyone worried about why the ghosts would be afraid of Gauvain? I mean, he's intimidating...but the restless dead?"

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"If Montmort's steward is, indeed, what has frightened them so," Lia says, "then there is even more -- and worse -- to him than we had already come to suspect. Let me have a look at that book please, Mlle. Viardot. We might not get our hands on it again."

[lostboy]

"...aw, you were worried, weren't you?~"

"Yes Tomas I was up all night sick with worry over you" Nicolas says with good natured sarcasm, looking the Lamordian over carefully. "But regardles of your intentions I think we would make a very odd couple." Obviously satisfied with Eisenwalds recovery he claps Tomas on the shoulder and returns his attention to the others.

The poet shudders somewhat at Nerit's words, remembering his first encounter with the Marquis in less friendly surroundings. "Oh he'll find us, of that I have no doubt." he mutters his gaze lingering on Nerit's loose hair for a moment longer than it should.

"And it would'nt suprise me to learn he was a devil himself, given the stories one hears within a prison's walls. Most lived in mortal fear of the man." Nicolas says grinding out the cigarette casually, although not without a swift look over his shoulder, just to be sure the man in question wasn't right behind him. Pulling out the lute he settles against the wall of a building.

"But yes I agree lets learn what we can before his majesty arrives" he says plucking a simple, uplifting melody on the strings.

Im guessing this qualifies as a short break? If so this a is a song of rest and anyone who wishes can spend a surge and heal +5 hp back, I'll also renew Tomas a +2 power bonus to weapon damage

[yalenusveler]

"If Death is terrified of him, what if he's life?" It was quite frankly, a crazy supposition, but with everything they had seen in the past few days, a light spot of crazy was to be expected.

Kerrian then looked down. "He said he'll return Thierri to us alive. I know it's probably foolish...but for now at least I trust him. I..just don't want to fail Thierri again."

[NeoTiamat]

2 Days, 22 Hours, 48 Minutes
On the River-Front, Quartier Ouvrier, Port-a-Lucine, Just After Midnight on April 22nd, 770
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


This book, like the one before it, was fairly small, and bound in black leather. It bore no title, no maker's mark or publisher's sigil. There was no coverplate. In fact, the very first page of the little book was a table of contents, but it was a table of contents with just a single entry. 770...........pg. 2.

Opening to the next page, one could see the list of names, births and deaths.

• 
  Fernand Thibodeau.................. b. 718 -- d. 7:46 PM, March 11th, 770
  Marie-Joséphine Marais...........b. 742 -- d. 7:46 PM, March 11th, 770
  Jacques Marais......................... b. 743 -- d. 7:46 PM, March 11th, 770
  Hervé Renault.......................... b. 757 -- d. 7:47 PM, March 11th, 770
  Vincent Lambert...................... b. 739 -- d. 7:47 PM, March 11th, 770
  Spiro Monteil........................... b. 763 -- d. 7:48 PM, March 11th, 770

The official reports stated that some 8,000 people had died in Port-a-Lucine on March 11th, but the book contained more names. Many, many more. The list of names seemed endless. Flipping through the book rapidly, one found that the little booklet contained many, many more names. The rioting. The plague. Dementlieu was on the brink of chaos. Eventually, one could turn to the very back of the book.

• 
  Eugénie Coudray..................... b. 732 -- d. 12:59 AM, April 22nd, 770
  Louise-Angélique Latour......... b. 719 -- d. 1:02 AM, April 22nd, 770
  Gerard Maillard....................... b. 743 -- d. 1:06 AM, April 22nd, 770

As you watched, something happened to the book. As though written with some unseen pen, the following was written slowly but precisely in the book, the kind of penmanship one associates with an accountant. Joseph-Marie Ferrand.............. b. 735 -- d. 1:12 AM, April 22nd, 770. When the unseen clerk was finished, the damp ink glistened on the page.

"If Montmort's steward is, indeed, what has frightened them so," Lia says, "then there is even more -- and worse -- to him than we had already come to suspect."

"The undead also fear the power of gods, but gods are generally not reviled. Though I know you are not fond of a few," Remy replied to Lia, with a small smile. He gave Tomas a steadying hand on the shoulder. "And these spirits seemed less respectful than they should. Whatever your theological leanings, it is most certainly M. Gauvain. He told us precisely that this would happen when he gave me the whistle."

"Gauvain, lovely," Andre spoke the name with the same tone he used for his various curses, twisting his serpent ring on his finger. "That man has been the death of more than a few of the Brotherhood. For some silly reason he doesn't seem to like us very much... and 'Thanatos' seemed just as frightened of him as the wraiths. It could be mental backlash from the ghosts... they were certainly influencing him, but his personality seemed intact enough to be reasoned with for the moment."

"Besides, we've seen the implications of Death left unfulfilled as it were. I for one am not comfortable with extricating Mr. Boucher from the position until we have a firmer grasp of how to find a more satisfactory replacement. By all accounts, M. Chastel carried on quite well in the position for at least the better part of a century."

"So if I understand what everyone has been saying, a pack of spirits the size of a Lamordian city are attempting to use an unsettled young man to replace an anthropomorphic manifestation of death... and the head of Dementlieu's secret police is demanding you stop it with the potentially misleading promise of saving the young man's life," Andre said, sounding somewhat pained at how life managed to turn out. He settled into a pace, obviously in thought. "I agree we should do something here, if only to skip the trip to Montmort... but even given the our general attraction to impossible situations this one seems above our pay scale. The spirits seemed determined to make him their new Death, and we saw how well they reacted to losing just that book."

"M. Gauvain didn't seem certain how to accomplish it either," Remy noted, allowing a certain amount of uneasiness to show through. "He said we'd have to search."

"That doesn't fill me with confidence," Andre paused in his pacing for a moment. "If even he doesn't know... I can ask my Lady, of course, but something else comes to mind. Unfortunately I'm not sure where it is and I haven't been there myself, but I know there's a place where some of the more unique citizens of Port-a-Lucine will meet up... a bit like us, to be honest," he explained, with a significant nod to Tomas in particular. "It's not a safe place to go without a guide, not to mention find without a guide, and I don't know if they'll even be there this time of year... but unless we can think of anything better, we're going to be grabbing at straws for the next three days anyway."

[DocBeard]

"Thierri's still Thierri. And he was terrified of Gauvain." Tomas reasons, cracking his knuckles and choking down a quick swig of water. "As far as the ghosts go, it is probably something with the whistle. Lets not make gods out of men who hardly need the self esteem boost." Remy gets a bit of a look at that, but it is quickly overpowered by the audible silence Tomas emits in response to the mention of Andre's 'lady'.

Well, some guys just don't get along with a man's girlfriend.

"Fine." Tomas finally responds, crossing his arms and nodding. "Its as good a place as any to start, and we can honestly tell the Marquis we're following leads."

[Nathan of the FoS]

The question of who (or what) Gauvain is, and what he could do with this book, is becoming more pressing and more vexed...but if his approach is enough to rout the ghost-swarm, it seems unlikely he can be effectively resisted at the present time. If resistance is what is necessary. Mercator takes one last look at the curious book and hopes that, whatever it is, it has not been waiting for the Marquis of Montmort to pick it up, because it seems that he'll do so soon.

And in the meantime all this little band have somehow become beholden to him.

Frowning, Mercator gives Andre a sharp glance and says, "You make it sound a long shot indeed, Professor, but if it might hold a clue for us then it is better than any place I have heard of yet. How would we go about finding this...meeting-place?"

[The Whistler]

Celeste was snapped out of a concerted bout of looking where Thierri had just been by everyone’s concern—which, judging by her polite laugh, she apparently thought unfounded.

“I thank you for your solicitude, gentle sirs, but I assure you: it is quite unfounded! Why, I feel just as hale and full of vivacity as I did this very morni-- …Oh, that is curious.”

Celeste had chanced to look downward in the middle of that sentence, which led her to notice the tasteful silver chain necklace she was wearing—and, more pertinently, that it was behaving as if someone had been waving a soldering iron about in its general vicinity. That this state of affairs did not appear to be discomfiting Celeste—or, say, causing third-degree neck burns—was another issue entirely.

“Perhaps the…esoteric character of tonight’s events has had something of an unforeseen impact? I shall have to notify my jeweler.” Celeste prodded the necklace experimentally, then shrugged, apparently willing to take this in stride.

“If the condition does not abate quickly I think you would be well served to bathe in the river briefly."

There was an interesting noise as Celeste reconciled being positively shocked with being confronted by a legitimate medical opinion, at the same time.

"The heat should dissipate naturally. Undo some fastenings to speed up the process for now; it seems we have more running to do."

“Yes! Yes. An eminently sensible idea, Professor Mourneswaithe! Now, ah…if you all would please…allow me to find a suitable location to…”

Finding that, no, there was no socially acceptable way to announce that she was going to adjust her corset stays outdoors, Celeste darted into a serviceable (and out of visual range) nook between buildings and spent a good minute and a half doing the necessary work. That she was willing to do so alone, at night, and in the Quartier Ouvrier did not speak volumes of Celeste’s common sense, though it did put a point or two in her favor as far as propriety was concerned. Nonetheless, she returned to the group unscathed—and, apart from the persistent conversation-induced blush, no worse for wear. She had even swapped out her necklace, in the process.

[Kaitou Kage]

"If I may suggest," Rex's soft voice cut through the conversation, "We should do what we must do here and then perhaps we should go rest? I understand time is short, but we will not help anyone if our judgment is impaired because we are too exhausted."

A pause.

"I have had many customers seek drugs for problems a simple night's sleep would cure."

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"I have little desire to see Gauvain de Montmort inside our home again, even if we are only renters there," Lia says, her voice cold and venomous for a moment. "If he is coming to us, let him come here and we can hopefully part ways with him before we go home."

[Cronax]

Mr. Agale's eyes positively shone as they pored over the book. The possibilities... Losing no time, he flipped back and forth through the pages, scribbling shorthand on his pad at a rapid pace.

"On the bright side for Mr. Boucher, his name is not present at the time he entered the well, which suggests that he is not yet dead. However.." He flips to another portion of the log, "Neither is M. Chastel listed for the time of her unfortunate impalement, so his particular person may be exempt from whatever mechanism governs this volume. The Doctor Poincare is listed however." The latter was said with some relief.

"Let me see, it appears only a log of primarily deceased individuals is recorded. You can see here, our dear acquaintance Miss Morjuet's untimely demise in Montmort, but no subsequent entry for her spiritual decimation last night. "One wonders what would result from a manual entry into the book, or a manual erasure of an entry for that matter." The Tollere pondered.

Jotting down shorthand copies of as much of the aforementioned pages as I can.

[DocBeard]

"We should follow up more on the Latour lead." Tomas suggests vaguely, trying not to look too horrified at Agale's theorizing. Carefully, he touches the most recent entry, checking to see if the ink dries instantly or can be smudged. He'll be careful to keep his finger somewhere hard to mistake, like the year, just in case.

Barring Armageddon, Eisenwald will rub his finger with distaste and look to his left when Celeste comes back. Abruptly, Tomas will clasp Celeste's shoulder. The intensity of Tomas's gaze, mixed with his exsanguinated features, gives an overall eerie effect. "Are you sure you are the okay, Celeste?"

[Nerit]

"One wonders what would result from a manual entry into the book, or a manual erasure of an entry for that matter."

Nerit narrowed her eyes at the solicitor-accountant. "You mean you wonder. Are you suggesting we tamper with death more than we've already had to, Domnule? Haven't we done enough?!" Her spine was rigid, her jaw clenched. It seemed the nun was losing patience with Agale's antics. "I assure you, life and death are not that easy. The only soul we must tamper with more is Thierri's, and adding his name would do you little good!"

She watched Celeste for a moment, then the distance. Her posture was still and straight as if to imply she would contribute nothing more to the discussion and did not approve of it.

[lostboy]

Nicolas plucks a last few chords and sets the lute aside with a sigh. "So are we handing the book over like meek little lambs once our good friend the Marquis' arrives? If so then what?" He looks around for an answer as he lights yet another cigarette.

"I mean where and how do we find a guide at this time of night, in this part of the city, to lead us to a place of dark danger and intrigue, that you have no idea where it is Professor?" He says watching Andre for a moment. "Ezra's bosom, I couldn't write a comedy that tragic if I tried. But on the other hand it sounds ludicrously insane, count me in."

[Nathan of the FoS]

"One may wonder," Mercator says coolly, "but I agree with Sister Doherty; we ought not to be trying experiments on something of such...vital...import." He looks at the book intently, then breaks his gaze, blinks, and sighs. "At best, nothing will happen...at worst, one becomes a murderer at the stroke of a pen."

Giving Agale a sharp look, he says, "A timed-honored implement of murder for some, of course; but I am sure all present are immune to such temptations. As for Gauvain...one would suppose he has that power already." He shrugs slightly. "If the book opens itself to him, there is little we can do, and if it will not, there is little he can do; he is no worse a custodian than we would be, as far as I can see. When he appears let us hand over the book and learn what we can about a visit to Professor Theroux's mysterious gathering-place."