The Shattered City: Chapter Three

[Rock of the Fraternity]

Lia sighs; a drawn-out sound. "You are correct, of course. My apologies; my nerves are a little high-strung, with the prospect of battle. Also, some sentiments leave me... displeased. I react badly to them."

[DocBeard]

The tears are what do it for Tomas; he knows full well that Lia will feel terrible and apologize in a little bit, but right now this kid needs a distraction. Tomas sits down outright, not letting go of her shoulder and lightly cupping her chin with his hand. "Hey." Tomas says soothingly, "None of that, now, okay? I'm sorry."

A handkerchief is in Tomas's hand and he gently wipes the girl's tears away if she lets him, letting Reine mourn in silence for a moment before putting the cloth away. "Sometimes, all you really need is to let some of it out."

Feeling like he's made a little progress, Tomas presses on the pertinent bit there. "Mister Raven? Who is he? A friend of yours? Someone we could contact to make sure you get back to the city safely?"

31 on Diplomacy to help improve the kid's mood and keep her talking to us.

[Nathan of the FoS]

Darius gives the smallest visible fraction of a smile at no-one in particular as the conversation takes a theological turn. "Domr mit jernspjot stjorna,*" he says. "Ezra has taught you well, child. Have you seen others here this night? We think that those whom Justice hates--the plague-carriers--may be here."

*Justice rules with a spear of iron.

[Kaitou Kage]

"Indeed," Cyrus's voice cut in. There he was, a few yards away from everyone else, hovering amid the shadowy graves like a wraith. How long had he been standing there?

"The crypt is that way." The dommer gestured. "The key will work, but we should go in prepared. A large number of people have walked in and out of the crypt recently. I'd guess within the past hour."

Cyrus finally approached the group. "There were a lot of footsteps," he continued, "The crypt is not very large, and far too many people were going in and out for its size. Unless the cultists like getting cozy, there is more to the crypt than appears. I did not go inside and I don't know if the gate is warded. I also saw no sign of the weirds, though."

The priest's lips twisted into a sardonic smile. "But they wouldn't need a door, would they?"

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"Indeed," Lia agrees. "They are conveniently capable of excavating tunnels at great speed."

[NeoTiamat]

Leon National Cemetery, Night of April 21st, 770
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"Mister Raven? Who is he? A friend of yours? Someone we could contact to make sure you get back to the city safely?"

Reine crawled slightly out from behind the tombstone, and if you looked closely, you could even see her smile. "He's an angel," she said reverently, all of the devotion that had been lacking for Ezra shining in her eyes now. "A beautiful snow white angel. Ezra sent him to me. He flies around on raven's wings, and visits me at night."

Reine shuffled her hands against the tombstone, biting her lip. "But I'll go home by myself. Mr. Raven doesn't like it when I come here. He won't talk whenever he finds out." The girl clutched herself, miserably hugging her arms. "If he finds out I'm here he won't like me any more. And then he'll stop coming to see me."

"Ezra has taught you well, child. Have you seen others here this night? We think that those whom Justice hates--the plague-carriers--may be here."

"I haven't seen anyone." Reine said, then after a moment's pause wrinkled her nose in distaste. "But Ezra says the Horror is close."

"The horror?" Katja said, surreptitiously checking her weapons. It was something of a nervous gesture for Katja, but a useful one. "Describe this thing, if you would."

"It's a Horror. Something that can't be redeemed." Reine said quietly. "Big. Cold. Wet. Dark. Beneath our feet. A Horror."

"I... see." Katja said, her voice coming out rather clipped due to her foreign accent.

[DocBeard]

Tomas's eyes narrow in contemplation as he goes over the information; unreliable, sure, but with Cyrus's scouting report, it makes a heck of a lot of sense. Sometimes the insane can sense this sort of thing. The description of the angel, however, makes Tomas look visibly concerned for a moment.

---
Years Ago,


"Is this really helping the situation?!" Tomas Eisenwald was a patient man, he liked to think. But there was showing patience and restraint when being forced to work with someone who's moral world view was not exactly like your own...

...and there was putting up with an angry young woman in a chain mail hood and veil who, in an attempt to break the manacles she happens to be sharing with you, almost dislocates your shoulder. Fatima jerks her bound hands particularly viciously, sending a painful pinching sensation throughout Eisenwald's arms. "I have nothing to say to you, infidel. I am still not convinced you are not behind all of this...!"

Tomas looked in askance at the Hazlani warrior nun, "...really? You really think I, I would decide that the best way to further my evil plan to starve the population of some village that has nothing I want, was to chain myself to you?! How exactly do I benefit from this situation?!"

"...I have no need to understand the mind of the unrighteous." Fatima replied hotly after a moment's doubt, tugging so hard on her half of the chain binding their arms together that Tomas almost spilled over onto his rear end. "And if you are not responsible, why do you not help me escape?!"

"Perhaps Herr Eisenwald has accepted inevitability at last." The cool, measured tones of the sackcloth robed man who captured the two of them flowed into the room; his hood was down, and both Tomas and Fatima gasped to see that the mysterious prophet was none other than Miguel Conjito, the kindly widower who ran the general store! He wore the same gentle smile he did went helping the starving town survive, the expression turning sinister in the flickering torchlight. "The only real consistency in life is what it takes from us. A cougar took my wife, Prince Othmar's navy took my son, and now illness threatens to take my daughter. But I haven given enough...and the people of Calabrea, nothing..."

Tomas felt his insides curdle as he realized what was intended; behind the grief stricken man, a pair of pale figures gently floated into the room. Both were brownish white, with glimmering wings shaped like a vulture's, skeletal builds, and looked at the two with expressionless faces. Their hands split open, revealing a pair of twitching, gnashing mouths...

"But first," Miguel intoned, eyes glimmering with something horrible. "The Angels of Consumption must whet their palettes. The Devourer's appetite will be aroused, and no one will suspect a thing about a pair of nosy strangers vanishing without a trace..."

---
Now,

Tomas shakes his head, closing his hand into a fist and letting it go in an effort to calm himself down. "I've met a few angels myself, you know. I think Mister Raven will understand you wanting to pay your respects-and if not, I'll have a word with him myself." Tomas insists this as if big men chastising angels of Ezra was a normal thing. He then reaches into his pocket, and pulls up a wrapped sweet roll Eisenwald was saving for dinner. "Here. And be careful getting home, okay?"

Standing up, Tomas looks at the others, and swallows his pride a little. "Great work, Cyrus. Can you lead us back to where you saw the people going? It sounds like we were right to worry about a secret passage in one of the crypts."

16 insight, 23 religion, and 25 dungeoneering to check out the kid's stories. Nothing much, though Mr. Raven would be a heck of a lot more real sounding if he were an angel of the Morninglord.

[Nerit]

"Bon voyage, chérie," Nerit said and patted Reine on the head before she could get away. She knew the girl would ferociously oppose the idea of an orphanage, an institution, a church, or perhaps any roof over her head. She just hoped Mr. Raven was a figment of Reine's imagination, and not a real man harming her.

Nerit folded her hands behind her, passed a furtive gaze around the tombstones, and pronounced, "Let us be off, dommers," to the Twins.

[Nathan of the FoS]

"Nice of you to come back and let me know what you've been doing," Darius growls at his brother. Cyrus has always been just a little too good at going undetected at the times most convenient for him...and Darius is not at his best right now...thinking a little more slowly, more easily distracted...

The child's description of this Mr. Raven does not sound angelic to Darius. Nor does its behavior. In fact, for some reason he finds himself thinking of Monsieur Gauvain, he of the white complexion, the pale eyes and raven-headed staff.

Of course, if he has wings he keeps them well-hidden.

Shrugging mentally, Darius says, "It sounds as if our quarry is near, then...if not the niflhunds, then something similar." Wiping the beaded sweat from his forehead, he draws his sword. "If you want to start collecting firewood, Monsieur Agale, now's the time."

[The Whistler]

"It's a Horror. Something that can't be redeemed." Reine said quietly. "Big. Cold. Wet. Dark. Beneath our feet. A Horror."

"Well!" Celeste had finished trying not to emote all over the place--having kept her handkerchief in unsteady equilibrium between her handbag and her eyes, as she had been undecided as to whether or not she should burst into tears. This change of tone was as good a place as any to shift focus.

"...Well! Good mademoiselle, you can be certain that this entity shall not be allowed to further perturb your peace of mind! As is our custom, I and my doughty companions shall take it upon ourselves to locate it, and...and...give it a stern talking-to!" She nodded, succintly. That sounded about right.

"Lead on, Dommer Isfahani! Our interrogative talents have yet to be tested, this day!"

Will a 24 on both an arcana and a history check help figure out what Reine's been saying?

[yalenusveler]

"Wet...dosen't match up much with what we've been facing, does it?" Kerrian asked the group. Then he turned his attentions to Reine. "What does Mr.Raven tell you when you talk with him? Does he tell you to do things, or tell you things that haven't happened yet?"

It was of course a long shot, but between certain things he had read, and all the weird things he had been seeing..the probability of a mirror angel "befriending" a young girl was unfortunately, above zero.

[NeoTiamat]

Leon National Cemetery, Night of April 21st, 770
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"What does Mr.Raven tell you when you talk with him? Does he tell you to do things, or tell you things that haven't happened yet?"

"He teaches me how to read. They taught some of the others how to read in the orphanage, so they could read the Books of Ezra. But they never had time for me," Reine replied, her eyes wide and bright. "He brought me the books of Ezra, but Ezra is with me herself. He brings me other books now, stories about a goldfish that turned into a sorceress, and a boy who was made out of snow. He brings me toys and things to eat, baked trout and honeyed ham."

"Once he brought me ball that changed colors when I bounced it, and a top that spun and shone all the night stars on the wall. He told me all their names." She pointed up at the night sky. "There's the lion," she said, indicating a cluster of stars to the north. "And there's the swan."

"I've met a few angels myself, you know. I think Mister Raven will understand you wanting to pay your respects-and if not, I'll have a word with him myself." Tomas insists this as if big men chastising angels of Ezra was a normal thing. He then reaches into his pocket, and pulls up a wrapped sweet roll Eisenwald was saving for dinner. "Here. And be careful getting home, okay?"

Reine grabbed the sweet roll and took a large bite out of it, looking up at Tomas with large, cautious eyes. "Most people won't believe me. They say they believe in Ezra, but they really don't. They don't believe in angels either." She didn't call Tomas a liar this time, which was something.

"He always comes back. Even when I've sinned," she admitted, still sniffling from the tears before. "But I don't want him to be unhappy with me. I don't deserve Mr. Raven. I don't deserve his kindness. I have to repent until I deserve him."

"I should get back." The young girl padded into the cemetery, still cramming Tomas' sweet roll into her mouth as she went. She skillfully jumped across the roots of the trees that had overgrown the area, skimming across broken headstones and thick grass as if they weren't even there. She vanished for a moment, behind a fallen log, then longer between a pair of crypts. A second later, and she was gone.

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The Navarre crypt was, on the whole, not a very large building. It was a good-sized mausoleum, about fifteen feet to a side and seven or eight feet tall, built of quality masonry. The facade was covered with carvings of slender ivy, and a markedly complex coat of arms hung above the front door. The door in question was made of verdigrised bronze, also with ivy engravings, and a rather large and imposing lock on the door. Of course, you had the advantage of a key.

Once Cyrus pointed them out, the various tracks were easy enough to see. Not footprints, per se, but crushed grass, the scrapes of boots on the stone threshold, scratch marks on the walls were the door scraped in opening. It was hard to tell just how many people had passed through, or how recently, but there was certainly a good deal of traffic passing through the Navarre crypt.

You may open the door at your leisure

The graveyard is rather overgrown, so if you wish to find flammable material, there is plenty to be had. No check required.

[DocBeard]

"Don't suppose anyone has eleven pairs of soft sneaking around slippers?" Tomas drawls, keeping a careful eye out for sentries or traces of some sort of protective ritual. "Everyone ready? I do not want to hear about how you have to use the privy while we're halfway into the dungeon..."

[lostboy]

"lead on mon ami, i will try and contain my base urges" Nicholas smiles grimly, whilst drawing the curved blade free from his cane. The gleam of silver glitters in the moonlight reflecting off the feverish gleam in the poet's eyes.

[Cronax]

However he still manages to gather himself to address Agale. "Oh and for the record, I applaud you idea of tactics signore, but I would advise against a fire, especially with wet wood. If M.Mauganson is right, then our prime adversaries are unlikely to breathe or require sight to find us.

"The crypt is that way." The dommer gestured. "The key will work, but we should go in prepared. A large number of people have walked in and out of the crypt recently. I'd guess within the past hour."

Mr. Agale nodded, internalizing this new piece of information. "All the more reason to divide their forces. Even with their cunning, the hounds lack initiative and won't pose as much of a threat in the long term if their masters are dealt with first. We know Poincare herself and the cult itself are ordinary men and women of flesh and blood. At the very least, if the good Dommer will lend his talents once more, we can get a better idea of what to expect before rushing in to our doom." he said with a sardonic smile.

He cocked an eye at the girl's angel explanation, unsure whether the waif was simply insane of if there were as yet unidentified forces in play. Deciding that her ramblings were irrelevant to the tasks at hand, he rolled up his sleeves and got to work.

OOC: Readying the up the kindling and peat. Collecting a few leafy branches to act as fans as well