Café de Nuit

Mercator looks up with interest and says, "Align to the stars? Oh, I see. Yes...perhaps a trifle more? Fascinating. I will endeavor to, ah, contribute." Raising the rattle, he gestures. As Lia chants, he keeps time as commanded, rattling with every third beat and keep his eyes on the mage as she chants to make sure he co-ordinates with her chant.

Arcana 17 to assist Lia with the ritual.

1 Days, 10 Hours, 33 Minutes
The Chateau Malchance, Quartier-Marchand, Morning on April 23rd, 770
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Lessard watched Lia's grand spellcasting, and he aided it in his own way, though the linguistics professor was of a quieter bent with regards to thaumaturgy. He took out from a pocket of his jacket a slim, dark brown leather notebook and a slender, black, gold-nibbed fountain pen. Flipping the notebook open to an empty page, he peered at the door for a moment, and then proceeded to quickly diagram something that looked vaguely mathematical and vaguely magical on the notebook, changing lines here and there to amplify the resonance of Lia's spell and weaken Thierri's mage-lock.


Remy assists Lia on the ritual with an Arcana 23

Thierri's bedroom was unlit, its occupant not currently able to provide it with candle or mage-light. The first thing you saw was the bed, relatively neat and made up, by virtue of rarely being slept in. The second thing you saw, in the light from the doorway, was the skeleton of a cat, frozen eternally rearing back and hissing. The area around the bed was stuffed with shoddy tables and desks, and covered with bones. Skeletons of birds were the most common, wired together as if still in flight, but there were larger creatures; squirrel bones, you thought, scattered and labeled on a piece of parchment, a dog skull, sitting on a small end table, covered with strange pins and markers. And, here and there, with University tags affixed to them, were bones that looked suspiciously human. Worse were the things that were not just bones - animals, mostly birds, half dissected, strips of flesh and feathers neatly pulled back to reveal muscle beneath. Muscles had been likewise pulled free and wrapped around metal pins, that could pull to contract or expand the tissue. In a corner sat a bell jar containing a dull red heart, too large to be human... you hoped.

Some form of magic preservation must have been at work, for there was no stench of decay, only the small of old parchment, metal, and dust. On the walls were sketches and diagrams of the body's inner workings - some animal, some human - rendered in grisly detail by some skilled hand. Surgical and medical tools were laid out neatly by the bed - all standard physician fare, but the glittering scalpels, needles and bone-saws made a sinister addition to the macabre scene.

Up on the wall, over the bed, was the only framed piece of paper. It was badly framed, stylized, and difficult to read in the poor lighting, but you could manage to make the first few lines out:

• I will respect the members of the medical community, I will teach those who wish to learn and have taken the oath.
  I will apply, for the benefit of the sick, all measures that are required, and I will do no harm or injustice to them...

"The Oath of Asclepius," Mercator remarks. "Or, no. They refer to Hippocrates here, don't they? A fellow physician..."

He falls silent for a moment, then steps to the wall. "Primum non nocere," he says, and nods to himself. After a brief examination, he lifts the framed document from its place. "I believe this is what is referred to," he says to the others present. "The oath that binds. Do any other candidates present themselves, to your way of thinking? I am not sure we need the physical artifact, now that we have some idea what is referred to, but it might have a more intimate significance to M. Boucher to see this than merely to hear it recited."

Arcana 20 to see if the Oath is magicked somehow.

M. Eisenwald wrote:"...Where did you even get a dress like that?!"

"Estate sale!" Celeste replied. Which raised more questions than it answered, really.

During the extraction of the oath, Mlle. Viardot hovered anxiously around the entryway to Thierri's chambers, clearly warring with the impulse to look in. If anyone had asked her why, she would have said something like "...hardly certain of the propriety of entry into M. Boucher's personal chambers, given our...", and then she would have realized that she would have had to define whatever it was they had, in order to finish the sentence. So it was a good thing that nobody asked, on balance.

She did coo appreciatively over the placard when Mercator brought it out, though. "Significant! And ever indicative of the good M. Boucher's personal philosophy, no doubt. What remains for us to find, then?"

"Tomas, you shouldn't wonder where she got it. You should wonder why it exists in the first place." Kerrian said, now far too awake. "I spoke with the Boatman. He's going to help us hijack a ghost train, in exchange for a good sum of money, 5,000 silvers specifically, and dinner at Chez Leon. Where we explain how we got wrapped up in this mess."

Kerrian sighed. "We're to meet at Pont de Tour, right by the town walls and no later than 10pm so we have time to catch the train. Earlier, and we can probably manage dinner tonight." Kerrian smiled a bit. "He's never done this before, but he's pretty sure we can catch her last breath doing this. And we're to come armed, so we don't..well, die."

"I would say, so we can force the engineer to derail his train and follow our quarry," Mercator says. "But yes. Finnsen claims he will be able to run down this last breath if we hijack the train for him." He shrugs slightly.

"As long as we are discussing our progress: I have learned what we need to do...or at least, who we need to communicate with...to find his soul. There is a phoenix living in a foundry in the Quartier Ouvrier; I intend to return there this evening and attempt to win it to our cause. I also need to go to the bank and arrange to pay Dior."

He frowns slightly. "In other words, a busy day lies before us. We have arrangedto send for one of the Bouchers, yes? So if I understand aright, we have now obtained the items or persons corresponding to MInd, Flesh, Heart, and Name. We have set in train the retrieval of Blood, Ash and Dust. Soul we can get this evening, and Breath tonight. We may hope to have all in readiness by dawn tomorrow, I think."

Rex's eyes locked on the pendant and he watched, transfixed, like a lizard watching a cricket. Then he glanced at Nerit and Reine in turn.

Finally, he spoke again. "May I borrow it?" he asked softly, "I believe it is important to both Mr. Boucher and Mr. Raven. If it is possible when this is done, I will bring it back."

Nerit nodded her solemn approval at Rex. There was little else they could do but take the pendant; if there was, anyway, Nerit refused to acknowledge it verbally.

Diplom: 18, bah

Mercator wrote:"We may hope to have all in readiness by dawn tomorrow, I think."

"Not a moment too soon" Nicolas says sauntering in through the doorway in a haze of cigarette smoke. "I....hmmm interesting choice of decor" he mutters distractedly making a face at Thierri's interior design decisions. Pausing for a moment, you could all see the poet was for once almost respectably turned out, his face freshly (if somewhat hastily) shaved, his clothes clean, and the only smell (beyond the cigarettes) lingering around him was of soap rather than the rancid tang of alcohol.

Shaking his head he continues, "I have not returned with any item but I did find something of import. It would appear we have an opposing player in this game, or at least an added complication. Someone is hiring mercenaries and revolutionaries in an attempt to obliterate the winter chamber place. I do not know quite what long term effect that might have, but until we restore Thierri it is a real threat."

"Fortunately it appears whoever is doing the paying and persuading isn't doing so sterling a job, as those engaged seem less than keen to play their parts, except one." He pauses for a moment for a drag on the cigarette before continuing "not that I doubt Athene could do it alone, but she seems reluctant to. And one final point whoever is behind this is to be found in the Kings Forest by all accounts."

"Um did I hear mention of hijack and Ghost train in the same sentence?"

Lia recoils on seeing Thierri's room. "I once attacked a necromancer in his own house," she says in a flat tone of voice. "I am sorry to say the decor was much reminiscent of this one, save the medical diploma."

The Mage turns her back on the room and shudders briefly. "I failed to acquire the item I went to find," she continues, still in that flat tone. "We shall have to rely on our 'Friend' to get it. His job will all the more difficult for the attention of the Marquis' Redcaps, I fear.

Hijacking the Ghost Train should be moderately challenging... Might I offer my services in visiting the Phoenix? I have never seen one before, and it would be quite the treat to meet such a paragon of goodness."

1 Days, 15 Hours, 33 Minutes
Orphelinat de Mont-Noir, Quartier-Ouvrier, Morning on April 23rd, 770
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Rex wrote:Finally, Rex spoke again. "May I borrow it?" he asked softly, "I believe it is important to both Mr. Boucher and Mr. Raven. If it is possible when this is done, I will bring it back."

“Fine.” Reine said with ill-concealed displeasure at having her amulet taken away. On the other hand, Rex had learned the names to conjure with, and so Reine acquiesced. She threw the bone locket underhanded at Rex, saying “Catch,” about three seconds later than it would have been useful.

Acrobatics DC 16 to catch it and not look like an oaf.

“If that's all, you better go before Ezra hears you're here.” Reine said calmly, going back to collect her ball and tossing it up in the air, watching the kaleidoscopic color changes. Without really looking at you, she added. “Bye.”

1 Days, 10 Hours, 26 Minutes
The Chateau Malchance, Quartier-Marchand, Morning on April 23rd, 770
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Lia wrote:"Might I offer my services in visiting the Phoenix? I have never seen one before, and it would be quite the treat to meet such a paragon of goodness."

“While I've never yet met any paragons of goodness in my life. I'm unsure just how convivial an firebird that lives in molten metal is liable to be.” ” Remy said dryly. He waved a hand, indicating the extent of Thierri's room with it's unusual, and decidedly morbid paraphernalia. “...not to mention that if it represents M. Boucher's soul, we may want to account for this, as well.”

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

You could hear the sounds of a carriage riding off as you made your way down to the entry hall. The two Blackwoods were downstairs, Richard removing his coat, Alice going to set the kettle on for tea. They both looked rather tired. Not physically exhausted, as Alice could make her way around the kitchen quickly enough, but there was no spring to her step. Richard sat down at the dining room table, collapsing into the chair and massaging his forehead.

"That was the most awkward conversation I have ever had the pleasure of having in my life," Alice said quietly, taking a seat as she waited for the water to boil.

"He, he was very generous," Richard replied, idly rubbing his right hand. "More than, more so than we would have been, at the time."

"You mean more so than I would have been," Alice corrected, with a bit of a grim smile. The smile soon faded, and left only the grim behind. "You have no need to defend me from my own faults, Richard, I freely admit it. Had anyone come to me with such a tale, at such a time! No, he was very generous, and quite restrained about the whole thing - much to our misfortune. Had he been so desperate as to have done anything to get his son back, it would have saved us a good deal of trouble."

"He, he agreed anyway, in, in the end. Desperation or, or hope, whichever you prefer to, to call it," Richard said, with a bemused sigh. He gave an ironic chuckle and touched the Shield of Ezra around his neck. "He must, must think of us as some kind of tempting devils. We'll give him back his, his son, in exchange for his blood."

The young man pulled a bloodstained handkerchief from his pocket, setting it gently on the table. "There are, are too few real miracles and, and second chances. Let's ensure this one isn't in, in vain."

"Death and rebirth," Mercator remarks to Lessard. "Rather fixated on death, but perhaps his own rebirth will change his mindset. And, though I do not vouch for its conviviality, or even its ability to converse, the foundry workers seem to have a high opinion of the bird as a protector. I feel reasonably confident we will be able to win its aid."
* * *
"Capital. I am very glad indeed to see you have been successful," Mercator says to the Blackwoods. "I do hope you have not been put to any unusual exertion, M. Blackwood?"

Rex snatched the pendant out of the air without so much as blinking. His hand moved like it had a mind of its own. He held the pendant up, as if appraising it, and then smiled at Reine.

"Fortune be with you," he said softly and then turned and led Nerit out.

---------

Some time later, Rex showed up at the Chateau. As usual, the pharmacist entered unnoticed. It wasn't until after the others finished their discussion and adulation of the Blackwoods that he finally spoke up.

"We have been successful," he said and held up the pendant, then shared a knowing glance with Nerit.

"What is next?"

1 Days, 10 Hours, 22 Minutes
The Chateau Malchance, Quartier-Marchand, Morning on April 23rd, 770
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Mercator wrote:"Capital.  I am very glad indeed to see you have been successful," Mercator says to the Blackwoods.  "I do hope you have not been put to any unusual exertion, M. Blackwood?"

    
"Not, not physically," Richard said softly.
    
The two Blackwoods quietly poured and drank their tea.


1 Days, 1 Hours, 13 Minutes
On the banks of the Petit Musarde, Late at night on April 23rd, 770
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It may occur to the suspicious-minded among you that by asking for dinner at the Chez Leon, Eric Finnsen had subtly tacked an additional fee onto his bill with this meal. The Chez Leon was the best resteraunt in Port-a-Lucine, and it cost accordingly.

You began with aperitifs, which included a fine selection of wines, mostly Dementlieuse and Borcan, but there were vintages from as far away as Nova Vaasa. Finnsen ordered a cocktail mixture that included white wine from Vor Ziyden, and something called cassis, made from blackcurrants. For appetizers, there were soup and salads, from the traditional Dementlieuse mushroom soup to lobster bisques and fois gras upon a variety of bread. The main dish consisted of options of poultry, fish, beef, often in unusual sauces (steak poivre turned out to be steak in pepper sauce), with common goose or chicken sharing space with game hen, quails, and pigeons. There was ox cheek, which was surprisingly tender. You also ordered more wine. When hijacking a spectral train, there is something to be said for a healthy infusion of Lamordian courage.

Following the main course, but before dessert, the waiters at the Chez Leon came by with a small cart offering a wide range of cheeses, along with crackers or bread. They ranged from the mild and milquetoast, upwards to strong cheeses that made one's nose move in strange ways, possibly seeking escape. There was a little more wine, and then came dessert. Crepes, mousse, sorbet, tarts, pastries, souffles, all accompanied by sweet dessert wine.

All throughout this, Eric Finnsen listened quietly to your recounting the events of the previous several months. He was, in some contrast to his normal demeanor, a patient and attentive listener, interrupting only to clarify points, and generally keeping his own counsel. Regarding your problems in any case. In everything else, he was a picture of boisterous charm, on the one hand showing a certain knowledge of fine dining, on the other hand looking sufficiently pretty that one could forgive him a very great deal.
***************************************************************
Now you were back in Finnsen's boat, traveling up the Petite Musarde. The boatman barely even pretended to paddle this time, simply enjoying the wind in his face as the boat sped upstream with the force of a runaway carriage. It was a cozy fit, with all of you crammed into the Grabanite dory, but you had managed it before and you managed it now. Remy sat near the back, idly cleaning off his glasses with a pale cloth. Katja and Cerise had never returned from the city mortuary. Professor's Lemercier and Petrik had gone off to investigate, leaving the two Blackwoods remaining at the Chateau.
    
"Not too far now," Erik said, putting his hand on the tiller as the boat began to slow. You were out in the King's Woods, the unnatural and overgrown trees tangling along the banks of the river. Water rippled in the wake the boat, the light from Finnsen's lantern leaving a trail of light in the black water. Mist seemed to trail up from the surface of the river, thickening as you moved further into it. Soon it enveloped you in a pale fog, leaving you alone in a world of grey.

Rex remained quiet throughout dinner. Most of the explanation of "everything" was new to him. A person couldn't tell by looking at him, but the pharmacist continually wondered how he got caught up in this mess. And sometimes why he was keeping himself involved. Whenever he started wondering if this was above his pay grade, he reminded himself that if Port-a-Lucine is destroyed, his livelihood went with it.

On the outside, Rex maintained the same calm, collected mask he'd worn since he'd moved in. And he quietly ate large amounts of meat.

He stayed quiet on the boat ride and stayed near the center of the group, as if trying to get lost in the crowd. It was hard to do on a boat like this, though. The pharmacist fidgeted constantly, as if he was uncomfortable being so out in the open, as it were.

Stealth of 18, blah, hardly worth mentioning.

Where are you guys? Let's get some posting going!