Café de Nuit

"Just let them go," Cyrus hissed from the shadows, "They only look wealthy. They're not. They have nothing you want."

Bluff 17. Here's hoping?

NeoTiamat wrote:Really." Alice placed her hands on her hips. "You would apparently know better than I would, Richard. But since you haven't bothered to tell me, and Mr. Mauganson seems to think it grounds for shackling us to him - if he wouldn't rather be eaten by a monster first - I'd like to know what exactly the issue is and make my own judgments!"

"I Had a vision at the chapel. It..had a lot of what I thought was only symbolic...but a lot of it is getting more and more literal, and making a frightening deal of sense. Part of my vision involved your brother. I'm not sure exactly what it meant. But from the basics of what I saw, i'm worried it wasn't good." Kerrian shook his head.

"It's one of those situations where I know something bad might happen, but I have no idea what yet. It might not even happen. But I'm scared it will. Just..hard to know what it meant or what I was specifically being warned of. Just..that it was a warning." Kerrian's look suggested he likely knew how utterly absurd it sounded.

"I'm..new at this. I don't have any real training. So a lot of what I do is guesswork, especially when it comes to interpreting things.low mordentish Just i'm pretty sure hanging from a red cord around the neck isn't a good thing, even when your body replaces the shield of Ezra. It was beautiful..but it still scared me. The spirit of the chapel liked him. Accepted him...but it's a holy place formed of the dead. " A sigh, then a look towards the pathway to the scene of the crime.

"That's the most I can really explain. So..do we go investigate the scene of the crime, or keep talking about my vision while the city might be getting spiritually assaulted or gods and spirts only know what is going on?"

"The Ezrans of, of Dementlieu are dedicated to finding knowledge," Richard quietly suggested. "I think, if they will help us, they, they might have some insight into the matter that we, we do not."

"Even if the ones at the Cathedral won't, there are several at the hospice of Hala who will," Alice said, although she was still watching Kerrian carefully for her answer. "And the Halans themselves, of course."

A series of complex emotions passed over Nerit's face, half-hidden by the mask. She likewise put her hands on her hips as she listened to Kerrian and the Blackwoods.
"When it is safe to leave, Mlle. Blackwood, we could venture to my holy counterparts. If you think it will shed any light," she said aside.

Kerrian wrote:"So...do we investigate now...Or do we worry about my visions?"

She glanced at Lia and Kerrian, then to the Blackwoods. "If you are in physical or spiritual danger, it is better you have company. I will stay with you either way."

Sister Nerit wrote: She glanced at Lia and Kerrian, then to the Blackwoods. "If you are in physical or spiritual danger, it is better you have company. I will stay with you either way."

"Then..let's go investigate." Kerrian said, already heading towards where the unfortunate Mme Chastel lay slain. "Lia, I'm going to need you to look at the scene again. I've...got an idea. Well, at least need to see if i'm right. " Kerrian looked to Sister Nerit and the Blackwoods.

"Although I don't doubt that the Ezrans might want to help, till we know what we're dealing with we don't even know what to ask them about. Plus, on top of that, we have no idea what things are like, we've already got several people off trying to get gendarmes. I want to try a test to see if we're dealing with my sort of magic. If we are...I don't know how much help the Ezrans will be. If it's not my sort, then we go, but till then..it's probably best we stay here and check the scene before anyone else gets a chance to mess things up."

Quartier Ouvrier, Port-a-Lucine; March 11th, 770, 8:25 PM
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cyrus wrote:"Just let them go," Cyrus hissed from the shadows, "They only look wealthy. They're not. They have nothing you want."

"You're damn right!" one of the other woman spoke up, a fat, ugly woman with rolled up sleeves and a dirty apron. "You give him back his coat, you worthless trollop! You got no right to bully it off the poor young man like that!"

"Don't touch me!" the doxie cried, huddling against Tomas' coat with a terrified look on her face. "Leave me alone!"

The gentleman who'd been threatening her before seemed to take pity, or at least had genuine concerns about the doxie clawing his face off. "Now look," he said, in a gentle tone, "no one's going to hurt you. Now be a good girl and give the nice man back his coat, alright?"

"Aaah, let her keep it," the voice called from the windowsill. "If he doesn't mind it, you have no right to. If it makes her shut up, what's the harm of it?"

"It's wrong is the harm of it!" the young man protested. There was a chorus of agreement and exception to that statement, and the whole argument seemed poised to get very ugly. So busy were the denizens of the place arguing, however, that most of them took their attention off you, for just a brief moment.

"We should leave," Katja agreed quietly.

You didn't quite outdistance all of them. Katja kept walking at full step, refusing to stop or even slow no matter what seemed to be up ahead, and going out of her way to avoid any large crowds. One young gentleman proved too determined for you, running as fast as he could until he caught up with Tomas. "'S my grandfather's jacket," he gasped, offering a faded blue worker's coat to the Lamordian. "Doesn't fit me. Please take, m'sieur. It's cold out, and you look so thin..."

================================================

The first gendarme you encountered was in the process of trying to arrest a girl no older than fourteen, who was screaming and crying for help. Trying was the operative word, as a group of women had descended upon him, hurling insults and rotten food. The gendarme bore the humiliation with stoic endurance, until one of the women threw half a brick at his head. The man staggered back, blood running down his forehead, and pulled his rifle, causing the women to scatter, shrieking. Their husbands quickly responded to the commotion, running out of their houses with weapons ready, but the gendarme was already retreating down the street, calling for reinforcements. The girl laughed at the man's plight, then tried to pick Cyrus' pocket as she walked by, before Katja caught her hand and threatened to cut it off.

The second gendarme you encountered was in a group of three, being violently screamed at by a red-faced merchant who looked like he was about to burst an artery. You couldn't make out exactly what the argument was about, but it seemed to involve a large amount of property that had been ruined by some miscreants. At a certain point, it seemed that it had stopped being the miscreants' fault for actually doing the deed, and was now the police's fault for not being harsh enough on crime. Currently the man was threatening to have the gendarme, his uniform, his comrades, his relatives, and his property all gathered into one big bonfire and set on fire.

The third gendarme you encountered was striking a middle-aged man with the butt of his rifle. The worker pleaded with the gendarme, clearly surrendering, but the gendarme roughly grabbed him by the arm, dragging him away. It was only after you lost sight of them that you heard a shot ring out.

The gendarme station was a scene of madness, with men in uniform barely making it back, tired and sometimes bloody, only to be sent rushing out again a moment later. The three of you proved formidable enough to shove your way into the station proper, though it was not easy. People were screaming at the gendarme to help with everything from murder to being served terrible soup, prisoners were yelling curses and kicking at their captors, and bystanders were jeering and yelling insults. The captain, a bloodshot eyed man with an obvious wound on his right arm, was glaring bleakly at one of his underlings, receiving a report about four men having just been killed in a firefight.

"What?" he snarled, noticing you come in. "What do you want?"

The Tessier Gallery, Quartier Savant, Port-a-Lucine; March 11th, 770, 8:25 PM
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kerrian Mauganson wrote:"I want to try a test to see if we're dealing with my sort of magic. If we are...I don't know how much help the Ezrans will be. If it's not my sort, then we go, but till then..it's probably best we stay here and check the scene before anyone else gets a chance to mess things up."

"Y-your type?" Richard asked. "The, the, ah, Halan's would be of help with that, though, wouldn't they? I'll, I'll come with you as well, if you think you might be in danger. But I, I fear without Professor Lemercier and Professor Petrik, we, we, we won't have any way to get out of here once you're done."

==============================================

This was not likely to be an issue. Someone, in a fit of competence, had closed the door to Mme. Chastel's office. Moreover, they had put a guard on the door.

She was in her mid thirties, a shortish woman with bright red hair done up in a ponytail. Her face was neither that of a great beauty nor particularly ugly, but made distinctive by a very vivid scar that went along the underside of her jaw. She was dressed in the semi-uniform of the Tessier Gallery guards, with a pistol at her belt and a short-sword in a sheath along her thigh.

The guard was currently leaning against the door-frame, knob covered by her own body, and was reading a small and somewhat cheap book of Invidian poetry. This wasn't much of a distraction, however, given that the moment you entered the corridor she gave you a friendly nod.

"Well, at least we don't have to worry about the scene being disturbed." Alice said sweetly aside to Kerrian.

===============================================

Agale wrote:"Ah, wait, Marchand-Renier I presume?" he rallied "A comrade in academia with some of my new fellow lodgers if I am correct. We really seem to be developing a habit of meeting under calamitous circumstances."

"Occupational hazard of knowing Charles. You'll get used to it." Marchand-Renier said with a very small smile. "Barring your untimely death, at least."

"Oh it will be fun." Bertram said. "If you hang around us and the Professor."

"You might get stabbed though." Bertriz said, tapping a finger against her chin as though in deep thought. "Or shot at."

"Possibly drowned." Bertram volunteered.

"Burned too." The other white mouse commented.

"Hanged." Her brother offered, then amended. "Maybe drawn and quartered as well."

"Eviscerated?" Bertriz said.

"Can't be ruled out." Bertram agreed.

"Quiet you two." Marchand-Renier said with a weary glare at the two white mice. "You make it sound like one of Tomas's stories."

"Herr Eisenwald is a very perceptive man." Bertram said cheerily. Bertriz added. "Handsome too."

"Shut up." Christophe Renier said unexpectedly, the broad-shouldered young man unwontedly solemn. In the face of his sudden stillness, even the two white mice subsided. Christophe sniffed the air, then said with chilling clarity. "Do you smell smoke?"

Normally, Tomas would crack a joke, give a smile, maybe make a few obvious mistakes to put the man at ease, and then meander around to what he wanted.

SLAM.

This time, however, Eisenwald just doesn't have the patience-as evidenced by his casual abuse of the innocent desk. He's been quietly furious since hearing that shot and realizing he wouldn't be able to find the old coward who did it. "We need to speak to the head of the red-capped division. We have a message for him or her. If you could just point me in the direction of their office, I can get out of your way, sir."

What had begun as an innocent inquiry born of curiosity was now quickly spiraling out of control into the realm of personal danger. Until now, he'd never really considered his own mortality a factor in proceedings. But now things had moved to a crux, the deal was on the table and despite his reservations, Agale knew that heroics we indeed called for.

*sniff* "Yes, and the malodorous fumes appear to be emanating from from the rear gallery. There is little time to waste." Mr. Agale scanned the room, looking to make eye contact with any of his fellow lodgers before gesturing subtly to the Richmuloise brigade and any guards in the vicinity to follow.

"Sir," he addressed Marchand-Renier "If I might commandeer your retinue? Christophe, if you would be so kind as to bring along that bowl of punch. Let us hope that our hosts were not too liberal in its fermentation. The rest of you, keep an eye out. If my conjectures bear fruit, this is meant as a diversion for persons of ill intent to make an escape."

Quartier Ouvrier, Port-a-Lucine; March 11th, 770, 8:29 PM
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tomas wrote:SLAM.

This time, however, Eisenwald just doesn't have the patience-as evidenced by his casual abuse of the innocent desk. He's been quietly furious since hearing that shot and realizing he wouldn't be able to find the old coward who did it. "We need to speak to the head of the red-capped division. We have a message for him or her. If you could just point me in the direction of their office, I can get out of your way, sir."

The gendarme captain stood up at his desk, although he wasn't nearly as tall as Eisenwald. "You'd better learn some manners if you want to live in this country, snow boy," he growled back, his fingers twitching wildly as if they were resisting the urge to lunge forward and strangle Tomas. "If you hadn't noticed, we're all a little bit busy here cleaning up the filth that decided to crawl out of the Quartier Ouvrier, and even the high and mighty redcaps have to put in a decent days work for once. So whatever oh-so-important message you have is just going to stand outside and wait until I put these rabid dogs down."

The Tessier Gallery, Quartier Savant, Port-a-Lucine; March 11th, 770, 8:29 PM
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mr. Agale wrote:"Sir," Agale addressed Marchand-Renier "If I might commandeer your retinue? Christophe, if you would be so kind as to bring along that bowl of punch. Let us hope that our hosts were not too liberal in its fermentation. The rest of you, keep an eye out. If my conjectures bear fruit, this is meant as a diversion for persons of ill intent to make an escape."

"Felise, find Tessier and Vedarrak. Then Lia, if you can manage it." Marchand-Renier commanded. Felise nodded and disappeared through the crowd. "The rest of you, with us. We need to stop this fire before the whole gallery goes up in flames."

================================================

By the time you entered the rear galleries, you weren't the only people to start wondering about the smell. The Reniers' sensitive noses had been the first to notice the smoke, but they would not be the last. And in the near-abandoned rear galleries, the smell was stronger.

"Where are the servants?" Christophe asked uncertainly.

"I don't know. Tessier must've collected them for something if there's been a disaster." Marchand-Renier said. He was older than Christophe by almost thirty years, but all that meant at the moment was that he had experience in such affairs. Bertram and Bertriz hadn't been completely joking about the oddness of Marchand-Renier's life.

"Over there." Christophe said as you walked through the rear galleries. The smoke was now noticeable, acrid fumes mixed with the smell of grease. "Around the corner, I think."

The crackle of fire proved him right. The fire had been started in one of the side-galleries, deep in the building, but had by now spilled out into the corridor. The flames lay pooled on the hardwood floor, licking the walls and sending up thick, greasy smoke that stung the nostrils.

"Burning can only improve the quality of some of the art here, really." Bertram commented. Bertriz nodded agreement.

"Not now---" Marchand-Renier began to say.

CRAAACK!

The gunshot whipped past Agale's right ear.



Combat Time! Agale, your move, then the Reniers, then the Sniper once more.

Fire squares deal 5 fire damage for each square moved through.

Squares on Fire are also Lightly Obscured, meaning a -2 to ranged or melee (but not Burst or Blast) attack rolls that go through them.

Also, make a Perception Check DC 15


Agale = 40/40 HP
Bertram = 60/60 HP
Bertriz = 60/60 HP
Christophe = 76/76 HP

Sniper = 62/62 HP
AC 19, F 18/R 19/W 17; Cover (+2 vs. Ranged attacks)

There's a faint smell of ozone around Tomas, and his collar snaps open, a quick blast of steam escaping from his lower neck. Obviously wearing some fancy warming vest. Beatings in the streets, murders in the alleys, and he wants MORE TIME TO BUTCHER AND BLEED THE CORPSES OF THE INNOCENT BECAUSE THE GUILTY PAY THEIR SALARY, "You..."

Tomas's jaw clicks shut, and his posture relaxes, even as he leans in closer and lowers his voice to a whisper, "...misunderstand, sir. The message is not from me, it is from Councilor LaGrange." Tomas gives it a second, to let the weight of the name sink in. "It can't wait."

(20 on the diplomacy check.)

Shot At.

Burned too.

Agale hoped against hope that stabbings, drownings, hangings and eviscerations were not on the menu tonight as well. His mind raced, tallying contingencies and evaluating risks.

His head snapped to the right, Marchand-Renier had taken a messy bullet to the chest. Pretty bad, but at least he still lives Agale mused. "Bertram, Bertiz if you would kindly remove the professor to a less dangerous locale. Christophe, if you would please deliver those refreshments onto the conflagration and then all of you, do take some cover." he spoke in a hurried, clipped voice.

Then following his own advice, pressed his back to the corner of the wall. Craning his neck out to get a glimpse of their assailant through the flames, he called out, "You have been found out. The exits are sealed. Surrender yourself now. Continue this foolish exercise and only your demise awaits you." His words were clear and forceful, with an alien tinge of power to them. Unfortunately, they were also all but lost over the crackling of the fire.

Shifting to G13 (Move)
Attack Misses. (Standard)

"Good evening," Lia says, her posture completely non-threatening as she approaches the guard. "Allow me to bother you for a moment.

We were first on the scene, and the councilor wishes to speak to us about the murder at greater length. When he comes to see us, we would very much like to have more to tell him. To that end, we wish to enter the room and look at the scene again.

I am a University-trained wizard; I can find out many interesting things by looking at them in the right way. Of course I appreciate that your duty as a guard is to ensure that the scene of the crime is not disturbed before official investigators are on the scene. For that very reason, I would like to ask you to join us in the room, so you may lend us your expertise and ensure nothing goes wrong."

"Indeed," Cyrus agreed with Tomas's latest statement. His voice dripped disdain as he stared down his nose at the gendarme. The dommer's response Tomas literally fuming was passive at best.

"You have quite a problem here," he observed and absently ran a finger down the spear on his holy symbol, as if pointing out a clear sign of his superiority. "I imagine if you were more competent, then you would not have nearly the amount of troubles. I suggest you listen to my companion and take the opportunity to redeem yourself for your superiors' sake. The Councilor commands your presence. You should take advantage of it."

Quartier Ouvrier, Port-a-Lucine; March 11th, 770, 8:32 PM
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

DocBeard wrote:Tomas's jaw clicks shut, and his posture relaxes, even as he leans in closer and lowers his voice to a whisper, "...misunderstand, sir. The message is not from me, it is from Councilor LaGrange." Tomas gives it a second, to let the weight of the name sink in. "It can't wait."

Kaitou Kage wrote:"I imagine if you were more competent, then you would not have nearly the amount of troubles. I suggest you listen to my companion and take the opportunity to redeem yourself for your superiors' sake. The Councilor commands your presence. You should take advantage of it."

"LaGrange?" the captain asked, speaking in a harsh whisper himself. The man's left eyebrow gave a sudden twitch as his last semblance of sanity snapped.

"LaGrange?" he yelled, at the top of his lungs. "So Drakov's whore has finally decided we're worth speaking to, has he? An entire squadron of my comrades burned alive by the University's elemental and he can't even be bothered to give them a slap on the wrist, and now that the entire city has turned against us he sends some foreigners to tell us what a bad job we're doing? Well," he continued at a normal volume, visibily shuddering to keep in control, "I happen to have a message for him, too. I answer to Josephine Chantreaux, not him. You tell Councilor LaGrange he can rot in hell, stranger!"

There was a bit of commotion back at the entrance as two more gendarme staggered in, the remaining members of the squad lingering outside to help their fellows. One of them was wearing the very red caps you sought, helping to support another gendarme with her shoulder. Her other arm had been burned down to its muscle and bone, and it was obvious she'd never use it again. Either she had an iron will or she had seen too much to even react any more; there was not a trace of emotion on her face. The other man was barely clinging to life, and if he had a cap it had been knocked off in the confusion outside.

"Fire- Delorme shoe factory-" he managed to report, in between spasming, hacking coughs. "Workers said- children inside. T-trick... they locked us inside-"

The Tessier Gallery, Quartier Savant, Port-a-Lucine; March 11th, 770, 8:32 PM
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lia wrote:"We were first on the scene, and the councilor wishes to speak to us about the murder at greater length. When he comes to see us, we would very much like to have more to tell him. To that end, we wish to enter the room and look at the scene again."

"Sorry, Madame." The guard closed her book, though keeping a finger between the pages. Her voice was gentle but firm. "But M. Tessier told me to keep anyone from going inside, and he didn't say anything about exceptions for anyone, wizards or not."

Perception! One roll, results as followed:
15 or higher You hear a gunshot
20 or higher In addition to the gunshot, you hear a commotion from back in the main hall
25 or higher In addition to gunshot and commotion, you smell smoke.

Richard tilted his head to the side, as if just catching something on the edge of his hearing. "Ex-excuse me," he said, very quietly aside to you. He gave a small bow. "I'll, I'll be back in a minute."

"Richard," Alice warned him. He didn't seem to respond, although he did seem to start moving much faster when she called out his name. She quickly began to pursue him. "Richard, don't you dare-!"

================================================

Professor Marchand-Renier, whatever his redoubtable qualities, was not bullet-proof. This was made abundantly clear as he slumped against the wall, a bullet torn through the rib cage. It had avoided the heart, but not by very much, and torn out the other side of his jacket. He was bleeding profusely, his eyes already dilating with shock, and mumbling something about the boy never letting him live it down.

"This is bad." Bertram Renier said with a calm that was born either of iron self-control or utter sociopathy. He moved over in swift strides, stooping to pick up the fallen professor.

"Herself will skin us if he dies." Bertriz agreed, in the same frightfully calm tones. She helped her brother, and the two of them moved back out of the firing rage.

Christophe lacked their discipline, making a noise in his throat that was entirely too close to a growl for comfort, something animal and primal when he saw that Marchand-Renier was hurt. But he remembered himself enough to obey Agale's instructions, casting the bowl of punch onto the nearest flames.

It backfired.

Literally. The grease fire flowed atop the punch without any effort whatsoever, and the backwash brought the flames down the corridor, spreading fire everywhere. It swept past Christophe and Agale, covering them in the clutching, super-hot flames, the grease fire burning their clothing and skin.

"The hell..." Christophe swore, trying to bat the flames away. Then there was another crack of the pistol, and a bullet streaked along Christophe's head. It ripped open his cheek and tore off the lower lobe of his ear, the blood flowing freely. The young man screamed in pain.

At the far end of the corridor, the barely-seen sniper tried to reload his pistol hurriedly.

Bertram and Bertriz move over to Marchand-Renier, spend their minor actions to grab him, and use their standards to move back down the hall.

Christophe moves up and throws the punch to put out the fire, which backfires horribly, dealing 5 fire damage to those caught in the splash.

Marchand-Renier is having a very bad day and would like to lie down thank you.

The sniper fires at Christophe through concealment, hitting for 13 damage

Fire squares deal 5 fire damage for each square moved through. People who start their turn in a fire-square take Ongoing 5 Fire and Poison damage (save ends).

Squares on Fire are also Lightly Obscured, meaning a -2 to ranged or melee (but not Burst or Blast) attack rolls that go through them.


Agale = 40/40 HP, Ongoing 5 Fire and Poison damage (save ends), Cover (-2 to ranged and melee attack rolls against)
Bertram = 60/60 HP
Bertriz = 60/60 HP
Christophe = 63/76 HP, Ongoing 5 Fire and Poison damage (save ends)

Sniper = 62/62 HP
AC 19, F 18/R 19/W 17; Cover (-2 to ranged and melee attack rolls against)

Mme. Gendarme wrote:"Sorry, Madame." The guard closed her book, though keeping a finger between the pages. Her voice was gentle but firm. "But M. Tessier told me to keep anyone from going inside, and he didn't say anything about exceptions for anyone, wizards or not."

Celeste leaned forward with a short bow and a gracious smile. “I beg you pardon my solicitude, kind Madame! We are simply— "

M. Blackwood wrote:"I'll, I'll be back in a minute."

Misadventure!

Celeste cocked her head for half a moment, then quickly changed gears. “Forgive us, please—I fear that we had better retrieve our errant companion. We may return momentarily; until that time, please have a most enjoyable evening!”

With a brief meaningful look toward Kerrian and Lia, Celeste turned and scampered off after Richard. “M. Blackwood! Oh, M. Blackwood!”

It was entirely possible that, in an effort to warn a dear acquaintance against investigating a dangerous-sounding gunshot, Mlle. Viardot was actually running towards a dangerous-sounding gunshot. It was also entirely possible that Mlle. Viardot hadn’t thought that far in advance.

18 on a Perception

Flames licked Mr. Agale's costume, reducing it to ash in moments. His Cheshire mask cracks through one eye, briefly giving him an even more deranged look before it too crumbled and fell away. Underneath... his usual immaculately grey suit remained unscathed. In fact, the flames seemed to recoil from his presence, giving him an infernal countenance. Without removing his gaze from the arsonist assassin, the Tollere straightens his tie. The clip, a gilded silver affair, flares with energy and the smoke in his immediate vicinity dissipates. He then casually removes a small flask from his vest pocket.

"Christophe," He says evenly, "consider the situation and your wounds. Withdraw yourself and try to cut him off from behind. I shall engage him from the fore." With that, he purposely strides through the flames, completely disregarding their danger. He gives his assailant a disdainful look, as though he were inspecting an unruly pet. "Really sir. You are outnumbered and surrounded, besides, your gun has just jammed." Once again, the lawyer's words took on strange undertones. They seemed to seethe around the room as though alive.

Pulling out a potion of Healing (Minor)
Walking to M14 (Move)
Attack misses once again.. *sigh* (Standard)
Completely ignoring the fire and poison
Saving throw of 13 stops the poisonous burning