Café de Nuit

Tomas takes a moment, as if processing, and nods to himself. He's not going to give up on Celodin, but he's not going to fight with the coppers about it. Besides, there's a more practical reason. "We should hurry, then. If they have the Captain they know they are getting the 'heat', and will be working to destroy or conceal evidence."

"Fifteen minutes to wash, change, and make any other preparations." Tomas turns to the others. "A cloak or jacket to be less conspicuous would be a good idea, but a dock's a dock. I'd rather take a smaller group, while we're at it, but I am not going to get in a fight about it." This is also a nice way of giving folks too worn out from horror an exit from the likely confrontation.

"The Council does not want a war," he said, a definite threat running through the undercurrent of his voice. "Do not displease them."

"Mine herr, forgive my impudence, but perhaps the council has not noticed?" Tomas looks honestly surprised at this statement, "We've been at war for at least a week."

With that, Eisenwald starts heading up the stairs, polite or not.

Chateau Malchance, Quartier Marchand, Port-a-Lucine; Late Evening of March 24th, 770
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Mr. Agale wrote:"Perhaps you misunderstand the situation we faced." Agale chided the officer. "Timely gendarme reinforcement would have been welcome. Instead, we were faced with the unpalatable choice of being eviscerated by an unruly mob or, as we chose, retreat."

"You managed to evade both the mob and the gendarme long enough to dispose of the body and escape, so we are quite aware of your resourcefulness, Monsieur," the gendarme that was still near Devereux replied. "Should such a situation arise again, we hope you will put it to more productive use."

Celeste wrote:“And, M. Gauvain…thank you for the opportunity!”

The Commissioner allowed Celeste to take the writ, without any sign of acknowledgment towards her thanks. The gendarme at the table stood up, in preparation to leave; however, neither gendarme made any move beyond that. M. Gauvain remained staring at Celeste in silence, well past the point where social dictates demanded he should say something. It was only around the point when it seemed evident he would say nothing at all that he finally spoke, surprising Alice at the very least.

"Be careful," he warned, his pale eyes narrowing slightly. There were many different ways to take that sentence.

Tomas wrote:With that, Eisenwald starts heading up the stairs, polite or not.

Tomas quickly found himself face to face with four other red-capped gendarme, standing on the top landing of the staircase. The officers appeared to have little interest in impeding the Lamordian, descending past him as he made his way up. They joined with le Marquis and the others in the Entry Hall, then, without another word, opened the door and left. Le Marquis' cloak fluttered in the blast of chill air, leaving the house colder in his wake. Not long after, you could hear the sound of hoof-trots and carriage wheels flying off into the night.

"Vampires!" Cerise exclaimed, running down the stairs after they left and leaning over the banister to talk to you all, although she seemed mostly to be talking to Eisenwald. "They were totally vampires, weren't they? This house is so cool!"

"It, it's certainly... interesting," Richard said, trying to be as diplomatic as possible. Devereux availed himself of the gendarme's abandoned seat, shoving the key ring into his pocket and looking a bit glum.

"Mmmhmm," Alice agreed, darkly. "Richard, can I have a word with you for a moment?"

Thierri watched the Blackwoods leave with a raised eyebrow, dusting up the various splinters of the coffee table with all the gravitas of a magic trick. He still looked a little frazzled, but his normal demeanor was returning rapidly. "Mademoiselle, you truly know everyone," he said slyly aside to Celeste, exhaling a bit from his cigarette.

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Upstairs, Tomas found the door to his room conspicuously cracked ajar. The lock didn't seem to be damaged, and nothing inside seemed that different, but there were a few telltale items here and there that were out of place.

"They searched your rooms," Katja informed him as she walked to her own quarters, with a jerk of the head that indicated the others below as well. "Herr Devereux refused to open the doors for them, so they did it themselves."

Tomas smiles a little at Cerise, choosing to see her insistence as a way of breaking the tension and not mild insanity. "No, darling, the vampires run the revenue department, hadn't you heard?"

And then, well. Tomas pales, which is something of an achievement, and numbly says, "Thank you Katja." because she did not have to tell him. "...my medicine..."

Barreling into his room, Tomas flips through his drawers, throwing a necklace of ivory teeth holding strange Sri Rajan symbols, a monkey carved from obsidian who's face might just move when you're not quite looking at it, a crudely bound book that almost seems to moan softly, a blue tabard that says "I survived the lost city of Timor and all I got was this stupid tabard." in antiquated script, and finally pulls out a black lacquered case. Opening it, he sees that a few of the tools are missing, scowls, remembers his own deadline, scowls more, and finally puts the case down.

"I've nothing to hide." Tomas lies badly, grabbing a towel and a scrub brush that might be made of steel wool. "They can look if they wish." He shuts the door, takes a moment to scowl at the useless lock, and storms off to scrub the blood out of his hair.

Darius does not know quite what to make of having been so totally ignored, but then, it is hard to get people's attention with this crew. That Eisenwald does have a way with the furniture, and the Viardot girl is...indescribable.

Shrugging mentally, because if everyone who he thinks will want to go does go his idea will be reasonably practicable even without laying any groundwork, he crosses to where Devereux sits and nods politely. "Did they say anything to indicate why they came, monsieur?"

Lia says nothing while the gendarmes depart, continues to study the grain of her staff, then, when the door closes ...

The Mage's eyes snap up, and she sharply holds up a hand at Darius and the rest of the people in the room. 'Quiet, please', the gesture communicates. Lia pulls out a scrap of parchment and writes down a few words, then passes it around. 'Building possibly under surveillance now. Not safe to talk.'

Without waiting for a response, Lia starts looking around, her eyes oddly intent.

... And after a moment, she blinks and shrugs. "Paranoia was ever a fault of mine," she says in an unconcerned tone of voice. "It appears there are no magical sensors to report on our words and doings. And so let me take this opportunity to point out that boarding that ship is likely to cement us as being in the Council's pocket in the eyes of the University. And the President already has plenty of reason to be suspicious of any and all."

(OOC: Commencing Arcana checks for magical sensors and whatnots. Roll of 20.)

"But who says it has to be known we boarded the ship Mlle Mourneswaithe?" Nicholas says stubbing out his cigarette nonchalantly, whilst twirling a set of keys in his other hand. "I would think it best for all concerned if we maintained a shadowy presence on that ship, if we can somehow slip aboard then Latours keys will allow us access to whatever is in those holds."

"Oh and perhaps you should know Dommer, that Latour was being handsomely paid to look the other way, this would not be quite so significant if the provenance of the coinage were not quite so brazen." So saying he scatters the Hazlani coins across the table in front of Darius. "Is there anything you can tell us of these? Beyond the obvious of course."

What wonders a brief bath and change of clothes could do. Agale positively basked in the feeling of cleanliness after so long being covered by gore.

Lia wrote:"And so let me take this opportunity to point out that boarding that ship is likely to cement us as being in the Council's pocket in the eyes of the University."

"Hardly. Any connection between the Acheron and the University is tenuous at best. And while Lord de Casteele has prohibited gendarme activities on the Campus grounds, he is not naive enough to oppose all law enforcement activities throughout the city."

M. Boucher wrote:"Mademoiselle, you truly know everyone," he said slyly aside to Celeste, exhaling a bit from his cigarette.

“An overrepresentation, M. Boucher—but I shall choose to receive it as a compliment, nevertheless.” She smiled winsomely at the magician, then turned her eyes to the door, pondering the man who had just exited through it. “…Dear Commissioner Gauvain is a bit of a Gloomy Gustave, but I am certain that he is possessed of an eminently stalwart nature beneath his sober façade. As such, I have always found conversation with him to be most diverting: after all, one may encourage the gentility of a reticent acquaintance only through an exercise of one’s own courtesy!”

Her tone suggested that, given a long enough acquaintance with the Commissioner, she fully expected him to be cooing over puppies and writing lyric poetry within months.

"This is real, right?" Kerrian asked to no one in particular. "we've just been more or less asked by the government to investigate murders, and there might be a civil war between the government and the university if things keep going bad..we're not going to wake up and realize we're just late for work and having a weird dream?"

Kerrian...was either hopeful his subconscious was rather unusual in its choice of imagery, or just starting to realize how serious the situation had truly become. "Has anyone checked those coins? Couldn't someone find a way to make them be used to track someone?"

Cyrus fairly bristled as Nicolas completely ignored him to ask Darius the questions. The senior dommer snatched up several coins and began examining them.

"What exactly do you want us to tell you about these coins?" Cyrus asked dourly, "They are Hazlani coins. There is nothing inherently special about them."

Chateau Malchance, Quartier Marchand, Port-a-Lucine; Late Evening of March 24th, 770
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Darius wrote:Shrugging mentally, because if everyone who he thinks will want to go does go his idea will be reasonably practicable even without laying any groundwork, he crosses to where Devereux sits and nods politely. "Did they say anything to indicate why they came, monsieur?"

"Er..." Clearly unsure where to even start with M. Gauvain and his red-capped officers, Devereux settled for recounting the whole tale. "Two of the gendarme came to my house... not long ago. They... informed me that one of their officers had been... attacked while at the Chateau Malchance. They..." The pause here was just a bit longer than the ones that were normally present. "...wanted to know what I knew about it. I... thought if the chateau had been attacked... that I should come and see for myself. The gendarme... agreed."

"When I... arrived... M. Gauvain was already inside. He was very... adamant about discovering what I knew about the attack." Devereux removed the keys from his pocket once more, holding one in his hand and staring deeply into the reflections on its metal surface. "I... told him that... he would be better off asking the people... who were there. He... informed me then that... some of you were missing... wanted in relation to a murder at the docks."

"But... then you showed up," Devereux said, with faux brightness. "So... that sorted itself out... well enough."

OOC: Insight

Celeste wrote:“…Dear Commissioner Gauvain is a bit of a Gloomy Gustave, but I am certain that he is possessed of an eminently stalwart nature beneath his sober façade. As such, I have always found conversation with him to be most diverting: after all, one may encourage the gentility of a reticent acquaintance only through an exercise of one’s own courtesy!”

"Alas, mademoiselle, his reticence does not improve upon acquaintance," Thierri replied, with a bit of a sour note to his voice. "Still, he has managed to win out over the inestimable Duchess in a genteel young lady's good opinion. There remains hope for him yet."

Boucher finished his business of gathering the various splinters of wood, stacking and sweeping them onto a white linen tablecloth he had found in the storage room. With a clever flick of his wrist, he flipped the cloth onto the wreckage, twirling the linen around in his hands to form a large bundle. He then took the edges of the cloth in his hands and, with a sharp crack, snapped the cloth as if it were a blanket that he were setting down for a picnic - revealing the coffee table, pre-Tomas, sitting beneath it. The cloth floated up for a few seconds more, then wafted down and settled itself neatly on the table.

"Er... thank you," Devereux said, slightly uncertainly. Thierri gave a smile.

Kerrian wrote:"This is real, right?" Kerrian asked to no one in particular. "we've just been more or less asked by the government to investigate murders, and there might be a civil war between the government and the university if things keep going bad..we're not going to wake up and realize we're just late for work and having a weird dream?"

"C'mon, Kerry, it's an adventure!" Cerise said cheerfully, with her snaggled grin. "I could pinch you to prove you're not, not dreaming, anyway, unless you were under the effects of the Vechorite Black Lotus fruit in which case you totally still wouldn't know. But those are really hard to get a hold of, even if you do like chewing weird plants at crazy times, and even if you had they're supposed to give you dreams that you secretly desire deep down in your heart. So if you have chewed one you might as well enjoy it!" She winked at him, then relented, giving him a small comforting hug by putting one of her hands on each of his shoulders. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't," she murmerred in his ear. "But no point in agonizing over it, right? It'll all be okay, Kerry, promise."

Cyrus Isfahani wrote:"What exactly do you want us to tell you about these coins?" Cyrus asked dourly, "They are Hazlani coins. There is nothing inherently special about them."

Nicholas looks at Cyrus for a moment as if judging whether to even dignify the question with an answer. Eventually with a sigh he responds, "for instance whether they are current coinage, if not when and where were they minted, my Vaasi is patchy at best, and it seems rather significant to me that Latour was bought off in such a way rather than with a less conspicuous currency. I had of course laid hope that you might apply your superior local knowledge to aid us with the problem." The last once again trod that line between flattery and derision, probabley more of the latter but was delivered with a perfectly charming smile.

Kerrian Mauganson wrote:"Has anyone checked those coins? Couldn't someone find a way to make them be used to track someone?"

"I did not detect anything at the time of the search of the body, but I am willing to bow to the judgement of those with greater ability, perhaps yoursself or Mlle. Mourneswaithe would like to check? When you have a moment of course. He adds throwing a grin in Kerrian and Cerise's direction.

OOC: Insight 11 bleh..

Tomas is still changing, but he did get a chance to get a good look at Devereux earlier, and does spend a few moments pondering the implications of his old friend's demeanor.

(OOC: 27 insight.)

Nerit approached Devereux and put a soft hand on his shoulder. "Monsieur, I know this is probably a bad time, but I'm becoming quite concerned with the prospect of glass. I think we should cover the mirrors and windows."

Insight: 26

Chateau Malchance, Quartier Marchand, Port-a-Lucine; Late Evening of March 24th, 770
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"C'mon, guys, it's been fifteen minutes," Cerise beamed, pumping her arm enthusiastically. "Time for us to get moving!" Apparently Cerise had invited herself along.

"I don't think the others are coming," she whispered aside to Kerrian. "Sounded like the Blackwoods were having a bit of an argument."

Nerit wrote:Nerit approached Devereux and put a soft hand on his shoulder. "Monsieur, I know this is probably a bad time, but I'm becoming quite concerned with the prospect of glass. I think we should cover the mirrors and windows."

Devereux slowly turned to look at her, still fingering the silver key he held in his hand. The expression on his face was almost impossible to describe. He looked a little sad, and yet there was the smallest of smiles on his lips - perhaps there to offer false comfort, but that didn't seem to be the real reason behind it. It was a look of resignation, of faint amusement at his own folly, for thinking that things could be different. He tilted his head at her, in a birdlike manner, catching the nun's reflection in his spectacles.

"And you think... that will stop it, Sister?" he asked her. His unblinking violet eyes looked at her kindly, staring out from behind her own reflection. "I'll... take care of it. At the chateau... at least. I can do... that much."

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The air outside fogged with your breath, newly fallen flakes of snow filling in your footsteps even as you made them. Cerise gave an exaggerated shiver, cheerfully grinning at the weather despite it all. She had dressed warmly enough in a white ermine-lined shawl and a fur muff for her hands, not about to let a little hypothermia stop her grand adventure. "Where to, M. Eisenwald?" she asked, favoring him with a snaggled grin. Tomas had, apparently, been chosen by Cerise as head of the expedition. After all, he had weekly column about just this sort of thing - in several magazines no less.

As you began to depart, you could hear a light paff as something landed in the heavy snow behind the manor. The sound of rapid footsteps followed, leading up to the wrought iron fence. Richard Blackwood, wrapped heavily in black coat, black scarf, and heavy winter gloves, a rope trailing behind him, was running towards you at rapid speed. With an impressive jump, he grabbed the top of the fence and pulled himself over, accidently flipping himself and landing in a puff of snow. The young gentleman popped out of the drift a second later, his hair and clothes now half white. He took a moment to reel the rope in, and tried to casually meander over to where you were gathered.

"Sorry, sorry I'm late," he said, with a happy smile. "Shall, shall we get going?"


Docks, Quartier Marchand, Port-a-Lucine; Night of March 24th, 770
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There was something calming about looking out across water. You reached the docks district without particular incident though the night was growing colder and the snow crunched underfoot. It was cold, chilly night, with dark clouds criss-crossing the sky. Still, you could just look out across the water, watching the gentle waves roll across the horizon. The ocean had a timeless, eternal quality to it, something pure and unchangeable. Governments may rise and fall, but it to the water, it didn't matter. Of course, Etienne Latour's bloated corpse was floating around somewhere in the harbor, so the ocean wasn't quite so pure and uncorrupted as might be desired.

"So where's the ship?" Cerise asked, standing on her toes to get a better look over the group. This didn't fully succeed, there being entirely too many tall people around.

"I think...it's over, over there." Richard said, having been scanning the names of the ships docked in Parnault Bay. He pointed, not to any of the ships berthed alongside the dock, but to a lone, distant vessel, anchored in the middle of the harbor.

The Archeron was a large, four-masted vessel, broad and wallowing. It was meant for capacity, not speed. It stood alone, the sails drawn down, completely dark. Not a soul could be seen onboard.

"Oooh, ghost ship. This ought to be fun." Cerise said, grinning. "I have my shield of Ezra, my Morninglord sunburst, and an Akiri ankh. Hope I brought enough. And salt. I brought salt."

"The ship is floating on, on salt water." Richard pointed out tactfully, being too nice to make one of the other choice comments no doubt available to him. "And we need to, to get to it first."

"We can borrow a rowboat." Cerise said, pointing to a moored rowboat nearby. The vessel was certainly large enough to carry the entire group, and it would get you to the ship without much difficulty, unless one counted rowing. "We'd bring it back before morning."