The Shattered City: Chapter Four

[Kaitou Kage]

"Well," Rex's quiet voice floated just barely past the song, "What next? He is your friend. What is your plan?"

Maintaining Stealth.

[DocBeard]

"I'm going to try and talk some sense into him." Tomas confides aloud, not quite seeing where Rex's voice came from but shrugging it off as something he'll have to live with. "And if that doesn't work, I'll try beating it into him. And if THAT doesn't work, we can start cheating."

Tomas tips his hat at the others, having undone his rope belt while speaking, and proceeds to hop off of the roof. It looks like he may be falling TO HIS DOOM or at least his severe bruising until Eisenwald's form is visible again, hopping off the side of the building with the rope in both of his hands and his eyes focused on what's behind him. Yes folks, he's repelling down the building.

Another kick of Tomas's legs, and he's more than halfway down! Letting go of the rope, Tomas flies for a moment, relishing the freedom of uncontrolled descent, before pulling his trusty shield back out, drawing his sword, and starting to kick...

...so that he can hit the ground running! Tomas barrels forward a few paces before stabbing Ivorsen into the ground and kicking his feet out; the Lamordian skids along the ground, sword throwing up divets like a dwarf at a golf game, until the laws of motion drag him to a stop...right to the side of the spectral Thierri's side of the river.

"Hi." Tomas says, feeling a bit awkward in the presence of someone who sacrificed their life and was now an unwitting pawn of the underworld. He taps the dirt off of his fiercely protesting sword with the back of his boot, keeping his eyes on the white haired magician. "You know, I bet you need a permit for a meeting this large."

(24 on my athletics check, because why not.)

[lostboy]

Nicolas looks down over the edge and decides aginst following Tomas' lead in a plunge over the side. Still this was the type of thing heroes do, so time to suck it up and get down there.

"Well Im not letting him go alone" he shrugs plaintively at the others, before tying his own piece of rope securely to the nearest chimney stack and rather more gingerly and less heroically starts to make his way down the building.

But then fate seems to conspire wickedly, the rotted mortar of the chimney abruptedly gives way , sending Nicolas into momentary freefall, his hands scrabbling frantically for purchase, and depsite slowing himself somewhat he vanishes in a cloud of broken bricks and mortar on the riverside below.

Miraculously once the carnage clears he's still standing, dusting himself down and trying not to wince and give into temptation and examine the effects of the landing on his arms and legs. Stumbling forward he joins Tomas at the riverside.

"Do excuse my entrance mes amis, spot of bother between myself and gravity. Bon Soir Therri... so nice to see you again, cigarette?" He asks lighting one himself and offering the case forth. True Therri might in fact now be death and therfore dead but old habits do die hard, and besides its polite to share, dont you know?

OOC: Athletics 12 and an acrobatics 15 to catch himself
If he falls he takes half damage and lands on his feet thanks to catstep boots

[Kaitou Kage]

Rex watched Tomas and Nicolas fly over the side of the building and sighed inwardly. At least they would distract attention. Rex preferred less ostentatious forms of entry.

So it was that the pharmacist dangled over the edge of the roof and pulled out his knife. He jammed the knife into the window frame and slowly cracked the window. Then he pride the window open and slipped in.

"This way," he called softly, "If you wish to take a safer path."

Thievery of Yes to get into the building. Maintaining Stealth.

[Nathan of the FoS]

Mercator moves along the rooftops carefully, using his cane to best advantage and when necessary going to his hands and knees; in this unusual terrain a very slight limp becomes apparent. He is not particularly graceful, although something about the way he moves hints that perhaps it should be said he is no longer graceful--as if injury or ill health have robbed him of the agility he was enjoyed.

He comes across the rooftops without mishap, but looks rather grateful when Rex offers a less adventurous path back to the street--grateful enough not to comment on his new housemate's skill at breaking and entering.

[The Whistler]

Celeste was at a loss for words.

No, seriously, think about that sentence for a minute. That was not a throwaway, idiomatic sentence. Celeste was never at a loss for words. You imagined that she had never been at a loss for words since she developed vocal cords in utero, and would somehow find a way to keep expressing her opinions long after the Core crashed into the sun. But she was now. You weren't sure whether she was about to weep, or cry out, or...you weren't sure.

Somewhere on the other side of the city, a moderately-sized carriage house collapsed. And spontaneously burst into flame.

She was downstairs, and not sure whether or not to hide behind Nicolas.

"...Good...evening, M. Boucher." There was a question there.

[yalenusveler]

Kerrian wasn't exactly keen on his chances trying to make it to the ground uninjured, so Rex's providing a more safe route was greatly appreciated. His words, upon being confronted by the sight of his former housemate were short, and simple.

"Thierri..I'm sorry."

[NeoTiamat]

2 Days, 23 Hours, 27 Minutes
On the River-Front, Quartier Ouvrier, Port-a-Lucine, Midnight on April 22nd, 770
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"Well," Rex's quiet voice floated just barely past the song, "What next? He is your friend. What is your plan?"

"I have an idea... unfortunately its likely to end up with a thousand angry ghosts trying to make us forcibly join them, so it's not what I'd call a good idea," Andre remarked, as both he and Remy chose the less athletic way down.

"You're in luck. That's going to happen to us anyway," Lessard informed him, without a trace of visible irony.

"Just like old times. I'd say I was surprised if I was," Andre replied wistfully. "I realize this will sound like an incredibly bad idea, mostly because it is, but I think I may be able to work a spell to track where he is, possibly more. The problem being I'd need his blood, and I doubt he'd be quite so willing to give it... if he even has any to currently give."

---------------------

"Do excuse my entrance mes amis, spot of bother between myself and gravity. Bon Soir Therri... so nice to see you again, cigarette?"

"Hi." Tomas says, feeling a bit awkward in the presence of someone who sacrificed their life and was now an unwitting pawn of the underworld. "You know, I bet you need a permit for a meeting this large."

Tomas could feel the wraiths quickening in the air around him, their could auras burning through his armor. They hissed as he approached, a sound like steam rising from hot metal in water. It was a cold, angry sound, a sinister sound that ran across your nerves. It was a sound of warning.

The magician took his own pack of cigarettes from his sleeve, drawing one with his teeth and raising the rest towards Nicolas in an odd toast. The cigarette seemed to smoke and burn the moment it touched his lips, sinuous trails of smoke curling up around his face. "You look much recovered, messieurs. And yet here you are," Thierri replied, his voice dark and captivating. "Bonsoir."

"Thierri..I'm sorry."

The wraiths seemed to pulse, thickening in the air around the eye of the storm. You could see them shimmering, dark and transparent, circling possessively around Thierri's form.

He is ours, the ghosts whispered.

Thierri looked up from his cigarette, his eyes burning blue from a face cast in shadow. "What for?" he asked, exhaling smoke and smiling.

"...Good...evening, M. Boucher." There was a question there.

A whisper rippled through the circling ghosts, spreading outwards like the ripples in a pond. The mass of wraiths parted around the dilettante, retreating to the sides or up above, leaving a clear line of sight out onto the water.

Celeste...

Thierri turned to meet her gaze, looking as he had in that single moment of hesitation, before he had fallen and been lost.

[Nerit]

Nerit just made it over the roofs with the rest of the gang. Skirts and habits were not made for scrabbling through snow and tile, you know.

She followed Celeste close by, her lips pursed. She had never expected him to be so...cheerful.
.
.
.
And singing.

The nun could only gaze ruefully Thierri's way. Was it almost worse to see him "happy," knowing what Gauvain wanted of him?

"What did they do to you?" she couldn't help but exhale a dark whisper. She glanced furtively at the others.

But when she saw the very spirits part for Celeste, she knew, at least, what Celeste had done to him.

[Nathan of the FoS]

At this exchange between Thierri and Celeste, Mercator takes a handkerchief from his coat pocket and dabs at his brow, then wipes his eyes and coughs slightly. By the time the handkerchief is returned to its place, his expression (if it ever changed) is again somber but otherwise unmoved by emotion.

The spectral figure's other words are rather less encouraging, but since Mercator has nothing to say at this point, he awaits developments...while keeping a weather eye out for wraiths. If this Thierri loses his temper, it would present this little band with grave difficulties.

Mercator then winces at his own pun. Better to keep silent and be thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt.

[yalenusveler]

Thierri looked up from his cigarette, his eyes burning blue from a face cast in shadow. "What for?" he asked, exhaling smoke and smiling.

"Because you're surrounded by ghost spirit hybrids? Because I should have been able to figure out something else?" Kerrian said, his voice quiet and sad. "I...can't imagine this all felt pleasant when it occurred. Tell me, what does it feel like now?"

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"I imagine we all have questions for monsieur Boucher," Lia says as she appears at Tomas' side. "Or do you prefer 'Death' now? Do you mind us asking a few things, or are you terribly busy with... something?"

[DocBeard]

Hissing wraiths..., Tomas scowls, crouching a little; he doesn't want to start a fight but you can't blink in the face of an animal, or it'll know you're food. It doesn't help that his limbs are...

...and, Celeste. Thank me, Tomas thinks, letting out a breath of relief. "I thought you should know." Tomas continues, stepping protectively in front of Lia and seizing up just how much butt he would have to kick to get them out of this if it all goes wrong. "Whatever else happened...and to be honest, every time they try to explain the specifics it makes me want to lay my head on a train track...you stopped the plague. Your brother's going to make it."

[Kaitou Kage]

Rex crept down the stairs and onto the street. It took him little time to find a niche to slip into. His perch afforded him a good view of the conversation, but kept him hidden from view.

He narrowed his eyes when Kerrian apologized. Did you sacrifice him to your ritual and make him into this? he wondered. To the pharmacist, Kerrian was acting guilty, feeling that he did something he shouldn't have. He tapped his finger on the hilt of his dagger and watched.

Thierri's reaction to Celeste brought out more intrigue. Rex knew he shouldn't look, but it was like a moth drawn to a flame -- or a snake drawn to a rat. Whatever happened on the night of the 11th ran far deeper than he imagined. Even deeper than Kerrian made it sound hours ago.

He slipped his hand around the hilt of his dagger and pulled it from its sheath. Something was sure to go wrong. When it did, it would result in war.

Maintaining Stealth and finding a hidey-hole close enough to be useful if the fighting breaks out.

Drawing dagger and palming it for the inevitable fight.

[Nerit]

Nerit shook her head at Lia and said to her aside, "Might it be more prudent to address him as an individual, Mlle.?" Her voice was gradually growing tenser. Perhaps she felt a moment was being ruined.

She glanced to the river's surface a moment, waiting, almost, then she returned her attention to the new Atropos.

"I see that we have abandoned any pretense that we are not assaulting these people," Thierri said, his eyes half-lidded as he lit a cigarette. "Or are we trying to pretend that this is not assault?"

The words echoed clearly in her mind. There were other fragments, as well.

"They began this when they summoned those abominations," Katja replied, coolly. "Whatever they profess their motives to be, they must pay the consequences for their wrongdoings."

"That applies to both sides." Thierri frowned and folded his arms. "I do not condone this."

"What would you suggest we do, Thierri?..." Tomas asked in turn.

"I agree with M. Boucher the Younger here," Nerit patted the magician gently on the arm, as nuns were wont to do when giving matter-of-fact opinions. "It is a mistake to declare ourselves enemies when we do not know the whole of the situation. They may blaspheme against Ezra," she said with a sharp look, "but war is not a justifiable solution. Even if we crawl in first, Mlle Mourneswaithe, is it still not with the intent of harm? We should be asking them questions, not killing them..."

"I think we're all being played..." Kerrian said.

"... I must declare, I am quite in agreement with the good M. Boucher upon this matter!" With a brisk nod, Celeste moved a step closer to the magician, in solidarity.

Nerit smiled a little.

"Regardless of my personal intent, you came here due to information I imparted, and were injured assisting my family," Thierri said bleakly. "It is my responsibility to stay with you and keep you standing, but don't expect me to fight."

"We have spoken with these women before, and their methods alone mark them as reprehensible. We should not allow false hope to put ourselves and our allies in danger," Katja rejoined. "If you are against that, then go home and stay out of our way."

"My brother is dying," Thierri suddenly hissed, his eyes alarmingly wide. "Don't you dare tell me to leave."

"...you stopped the plague. Your brother's going to make it."

She rubbed her forehead, disconsolate despite the Lamordian's words. "Tomas. You did not say before. This is...good news."

If it appeased Thierri, fine.