The Shattered City: Chapter Two

[DocBeard]

Tomas sets his hand on the box, letting his eyes widen as he starts to focus his will...

Eisenwald pales, stumbling away from the box and covering his eyes. "Aaaaaugh!" Tomas shouts as if someone knifed him in the brain, falling to his knees and grabbing his handkerchief to cover the blood pouring from his nose and eyes. "...like...like staring into the sun..." Tomas moans, feeling wrong and unnatural and utterly inhuman for the first time in years.

There's a long moment, as Tomas breathes shallowly. Finally, he manages, "Whatever it is...it is as intense as the original Icon. I...I do not know if the cult corrupted it, or just replaced it, though.."

[yalenusveler]

"Could it be a fake? something they'd hand off at the guard shift at the university, with just enough magic for people to go "yep, it's the icon?" but not dig too deeply?" Kerrian asked, moving to Tomas' side, a hand on his shoulder for support.

"I..don't like the possibility they could corrupt something like the Icon. And..do we have enough time to get to the guardpost at the university from the other note?" Kerrian looked hopeful, not wanting to consider what might be done if the meeting wasn't kept, even if it wasn't exactly kept by the right people.

[Nerit]

Nerit screamed bloody murder most uncouth and unlike had been heard. Anyone within a half-mile radius would know it was a curse. A curse most foul, most black.

She was tired, she was angry, she was bleeding. And she needed a good laundering. And something else was bothering her, that same shadow in the crevice between her knitted eyebrows.

She took a step forward. With a wince, she gripped her wounded side.

Nerit shoved her fingers to the corners of her eyes. Indeed, she seemed defeated, and drained. "I have not lost yet," she gritted her teeth in protest as she watched the receding figures of her enemies. "But I can take no more of this forsaken, tormented day!"

Turning then to her ragged companions, she watched with weariness to see Tomas so affected. "What now!" she groaned and trudged over the ice to him.

"Tomas, what in the Lady's name are you doing?" Nerit ground out of her throat.

Apparently, her compassion was lost in the fight.

[Nathan of the FoS]

"What the..."

Darius, at least, is not expecting Tomas' reaction to their hard-won prize. Bleeding from the eyes and nose?

Looking at the glass with new wariness, he asks, "How can you tell it's not the original?...Because it, ah..."

Makes you bleed like a stuck pig?

"Has...this effect on you?"

Then the Ezran nun screams, and Darius pauses to respect the effort. Good lungs. It's not clear to Darius why she would be mad at Tomas, but it hardly matters.

"So let's quit looking at it and get it to shore," he says, sheathing his sword and gesturing to his brother for rope. Threading the rope through the ring fixed in the front of the boat, he puts a couple of awkward knots in it and then slings it over his shoulder and walks off in the direction of the pier.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"All of you, please calm down," Lia calls out. "I like it no better than the rest of you that the wretch managed to get away, but we must not dwell on it. Does someone have a watch? How much time is left to get to the University? If we have as much as ten minutes to spare, I could conjure up something to carry that crate."

[lostboy]

You'd expect somethign glib or jovial form Nicholas at this point, but the poet just looks exhausted, covered in livid frost burns, his jacket torn and his hair standing up at what would normally be impossible.

As it is he simply approaches the crate and pushes the lid back in place. "Whatever that is, now is not the time to face it." He looks carefully at both Nerit and Tomas for a moment before flicking open his watch "in fact at just past midnight it is time to be gone from this place, if we wish to make that appointment, although I do wonder what the landowner here knows about this..." He throws an intrigued glance towards the house beyind the gardens.

"So let's quit looking at it and get it to shore,"

"Eh? Oh let me help Dommer." He adds pulling a short length of rope from his satchel, tying it off and then pulling with rather less effect than the Hazlani, although he does begin to hum a realtively tuneful piece that in itself is oddly invigorating.

OOC: Streetwise 32 and History 26 on who actually lives here and anything else known about the good doctor and who the Tarascons were.
Doing a Song of Rest so anyone who spends a surge gets 4 extra hp

[DocBeard]

"Bleeding. You never get nosebleeds, Sister?" Tomas answers Nerit dryly, wiping his face off and getting to his feet. "And I don't know for sure, Ishfani. All I do know is that it feels as powerful as the real Icon-if the cult replaced it, this could be the legitimate copy. The thing wasn't exactly a sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows sort of artifact, ja?"

After giving himself a second to make sure the bleeding's stopped, Tomas grabs one of the ropes and starts tugging. Lugging things out of the ice is, after all, part of his culture and heritage. "...it wasn't a bad plan, Ishfani. Would've worked if they didn't have that elemental." Tomas observes, perhaps remembering the sheer force of that scream of frustration. "Any theories as to why those kids are so loyal to someone willing t'bleed them for her own health?"

[Cronax]

Titling his head slightly to the side in consternation, Mr. Agale watches the ethereal cultists float off past the treeline. His expression is ambivalent, a combination of relief and disappointment. He blows on his hands and rubs them together for warmth before huddling under his jacket and trudging over to the dinghy.

How much time is left to get to the University?

"That is now irrelevant Ms. Mournswraith." Agale replied. "One, now that we have disrupted this portion of their plan, it is doubtful they will return to the University, at least by the route we discovered. Two, we are hardly in a proper condition to re-engage them. And Three, were those reasons not relevant, our efforts will be better spent securing and analyzing the Icon, if indeed that is what it is.

Much as I am loath to suggest it, the Chateau seems the logical place to return to at this juncture. We can travel there without needing to re-entering the city proper to avoid suspicion.

If you have the capability, then by all means Professor, conjure away. In all honesty, this boat seems ill suited for moving its cargo much beyond the confines of the pond. I wonder how they intended to transport its cargo the rest of the way to the University.

Finally, we should also perform a cursory search of the manor house, in case there are additional clues to shed more light on this matter."

OOC: Spending two healing surges during the rest.
Perception 8 to hear anyone moving around inside the manor before entering.
Perception 23 to search the manor for clues.

[lostboy]

"I take it you've never heard the stories of the old Tarascon place then signore?" Nicholas asks the lawyer with a raised eyebrow, then without waiting for an answer he plunges into a lengthy dialogue which coninciendetally lasts as long as it takes to haul the sled across the pond.

“The Chateau de Tarascon has a rather unpleasant reputation “ he bgins waving a hand theatrically at the darkened manor ahead. “It's always been kind of a creepy place, a decaying mansion set out in the forest, full of the kind of decadent gothic atmosphere that breeds excellent rumours of darkness and evil, stories of ghosts, vampires, werewolves, you name it. Come to think of it Im quite glad Cerise isn’t with us…”

“Now, of course that is all rumor and gossip, but I do recall an article in Le Nouvel Observateur a few years ago. It seems there was a spate of disappearances amongst the various river-workers who dwelt outside the city wall. They complained as is not unusual that the gendarmes were not taking the disappearances seriously.” Screwing up his face he thinks for a moment “I don't believe that the disappearances were ever solved, at least to my recollection anyway.

“The Tarascons? Why Im glad you asked” Nicholas continues although you weren’t sure anyone had asked, but the poet was in full flow now.
“The Tarascons are a 'noble' family originally from Invidia, who emigrated to Dementlieu sometime in the middle of the 5th century. In truth, they were a rather wealthy clan of merchants who; bought up a coat of arms, some 'ancestral' lands in the south-east, and settled into Dementlieuse high society.”

"They were never really accepted, however, by the high nobility, and were generally socially snubbed and otherwise kept out of the main ranks of the aristocracy. Hence why their chateau is in such a charming locale.” He spreads his arms around indicating the gloomy isolation of the place, before noting the look the Hazlani’s give him, and immediately recommences hauling.

“Eventually however, the family talent for making money was outstripped by the family desire to buy their way into the nobility, and their shipping business went under at around the turn of the century. The Tarascons clung grimly onto the life of the nobility, despite mounting debts, and finally disappeared from public life about twenty years or so ago I believe. Who lives at the Chateau now, or even whether the Tarascons still own it, I am at a loss.”

“However I do dimly recall that there was some kind of minor scandal involving the Tarascons and another noble family just before they ultimately vanished, something about a broken engagement and missing dowry.” Turnign at looking at everyone rather pointedly he adds in an ominous voice “The Tarascon's daughter would be about our friend Dr. Poincare's age by now.”

Waiting briefly for the gravity of his pronouncement to sink in Nichlas continues as they haul the sled up onto dry land. “I know relatively little about Dr. Nicole Poincare. Apart from the obvious that’s she's a professor of art history at the University of Dementlieu, and obviously a restorationist with some degree of talent, but other than that…” he pauses shrugging.

“However I have no particular recollection of a Poincare family in the petty nobility of Dementlieu, which of course argues that either; she's from less than noble antecedents, from somewhere in the countryside, or that Poincare is not her real name.” He adds the last meaningfully.

[Kaitou Kage]

Cyrus swung at Poincare just as the woman vanished. His blade caught nothing but smoke and ice and knocked a chip out of the frozen pond.

The dommer didn't swear or curse. He didn't take another swing at the empty air, nor did he scream like his brother. Instead he stood in place and glared at the spot Poincare stood as if he could will the woman to reappear or cause the ice to shatter.

Darius's call shook Cyrus out of his silent fury.

"Isfahani," he corrected Tomas coolly and trudged to the rowboat. He pulled out his rope and began helping his brother and others carry their prize.

He fought to keep irritation off his face as Nicolas launched into his speech. Finally, when the seditious "poet" finished rambling, the dommer spoke.

"If she is one of these Tarascons," he said, "It is good that we stopped her idiocy again. They got what they deserved."

He spat a bloody wad on the ground. It wasn't clear if the gesture was from indignation or a need to empty his mouth.

"It is time to end this day," he finished grimly, "We will investigate further tomorrow."

Spending 3 surges to bring myself up to full HP. That leaves me with 5 surges for the day.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

Lia walks a few feet away from the lake, and drives her staff into the hard, cold earth. There is a clear, splintering noise when she does so, but what cracks is the frozen ground, rather than the wood. Strange, that.

The Mage pulls a small vial out of her robes and sprinkles it on the earth, drawing a thin spiral that turns outward - a spiral of white dust. Returning the vial to its resting place, Lia brings out a second vial, whose contents she pours, drawing a second spiral that turns inward, its line almost but not quite touching that of the previous one. And this one is drawn in black dust.

Stepping over the spiral, careful not to scatter it, Lia withdraws her staff. She starts to walk around the pattern she has drawn, thumping the heel of her staff against the ground in a staccato rhythm with one hand, while the other scatters pinches of a silvery, grainy substance over the twin spirals.

While she walks, Lia chants:
"In east my burden heavy-yah
In west my burden heavy-yah
In north my burden heavy-yah
In south my burden heavy-sah

In side my burden heavy-yah
In sight my burden heavy-yah
In night my burden heavy-yah
In light my burden heavy-sah

My burden it be mine-o-yah
My burden not be thine-o-yah
My burden not be hine-o-yah
My burden not I let lie-o-sah

My burden bend no ox-o-yah
My burden break no ass-o-yah
My burden kill no horse-o-yah
My burden no twist my bones-no-sah

My burden here do lie-o-yah
My burden it be fine-o-yah
My burden in my mind-o-yah
My mind it do just fine-yah-sah

No ox have the strength of mind-no-yah
No ass have the strength of mind-no-yah
No horse have the strength of mind-no-yah
The world no have the strength of mind-no-sah

My will it burn up the night-o-yah
My thoughts will leave laws blind-o-yah
My spirit cleave the wind in twine-o-yah
My burden in the hand of my mind-yah-sah

Rise up on the wind of the mind-o-yah
Rise up or feel the fire of the mind-o-yah
Rise up and follow me behind-o-yah
Rise up and do what be the will of mine-o-sah

The world it be mine, it be mine-o-yah
The power it be mine, it be mine-o-yah
The knowledge it be mine, it be mine-o-yah
Let the glory that is all and be I let it shine-o-sah

My Knowledge is of the flaw in the Law
My Will is the crowbar, let walls fall, let them fall
Stone fall to dust, Iron into rust

The Will of the Master becomes the Law by Sign and Seal, make it all be my thrall
I shine forth in the Night, I reflect the mighty Sun

To Water, a Basin. To Light, a Mirror. To Power, a Vessel. To Power, I call.
I Seal, I Bind. Leave not. Behind. What I. Did find. My Power. My Lore. My wish becomes Law.

Rise up, rise up, and heed now, my thrall. Rise!"

As silly as parts of the ritual may sound, the twin spirals suddenly blaze into blue flame and vanish. There is an oddly chemical scent on the air -- and suddenly the crate rises into the air on a platform of shimmering ... something.

"We can go home now," Lia announces. She snaps her fingers at the crate, which floats over to her, as obedient as a dog.

(OOC: Lia just performed the ritual of Tenser's Floating Disc, to an Arcana check of 20. NT has told me that's enough to lift the crate, so let's get going. ^^)

[NeoTiamat]

Chateau Malchance, Quartier Marchand, Port-a-Lucine; Small Hours of the Morning of March 25th, 770
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A thick mist began to roll in as you walked home. It started slowly, lingering in the dark corners of the forests, drawing closer whenever you turned your back to it. Soon it was covering the treeline, until you could only see the ground in front of you. It was dangerous in the woods, these days, as dangerous as the back alleyways and impoverished ruins of the city. On occasion, you would hear a lone wolf howl, a mournful sound nearly unheard of in Port-a-Lucine, nine years ago. Still, no further danger found you this night. The mists parted before you as you neared the city wall, revealing the Chateau Malchance. There were still lights on downstairs.

Katja surprised you by opening the door before you could, your arrival anticipated by virtue of her watching for it. Her single eye flickered over all of you, noting that you were all in something resembling one piece. Then, without a word, she turned on her heel and walked upstairs, without even a single glance backward. The door to her room closed a minute later, with a heavy click as the lock turned shut.

The dining room, entryway, and commons room were still lit. Cerise was sitting in the dining room, idly perched on one of the chairs in a decidedly improper fashion. Richard was sitting across from her, holding a teacup in his hands. It didn't look like he intended to drink it. In fact, had his eyes not been slightly open, gazing down at the watery tea in the cup, you might have thought he was still asleep. The young man was locked in deep contemplation, and he did not look up when you entered.

His sister was in the common room, trying so hard not to look in Richard's direction that it was immediately apparent. Boucher was there as well, attempting to play a game of pool. The two may as well have been in separate rooms, for all they acknowledged each other's presence. Boucher was currently looking a bit like Nicolas on one of his worse days, and was focusing his energy on the terrible shots he was making; Alice's thoughts were obviously elsewhere. To say Alice looked furious would be an understatement; to say that she was not worried would have ignored the constant glances she shot towards the kitchen. The distance between the two siblings was was of a subtle sort, marked by an amicable silence, but it hung in the air with a palpable aura.

Devereux was in the grand hallway, fiddling around with every mirror, picture frame, and anything else that could have potentially been reflective. He wasn't taking them down, instead carefully picking each one off the wall and performing an odd sort of ritual. He would peer at it from several angles, flip it around, knock on it a few times with gentle raps of his knuckles, trace odd little patterns on them with his fingers, then nod to himself and put it back. He was in the midst of this when you walked in, and he took a few moments to finish before setting the picture gently back on the wall.

"Welcome... back," he said, with a little smile. His violet eyes trailed past you, drawn like a beacon, to the unassuming crate you were carrying behind you.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"The Icon of La Ste. Mêre des Larmes," Lia announces bluntly, "as far as we can tell right now. It would be well to put it in a very safe room until we decide what to do with it next. You have found a warding spell that can make the mirrors safe then, Charles?"

[DocBeard]

Tomas looks over at Lia and idly wonders if she hit her head. Making a few mental notes*, Eisenwald gruffly gestures towards the toilet. "There's some basic medical equipment in there. And I'd take it as a kindness if you all could find the stomach to eat something. Best thing for blood loss."

Taking a second to make sure the bandage over his jawline is still in place (And to smile respectfully at Professor Devereaux.), Eisenwald makes his way over to Richard and Cerise. He considers plopping down on one of the chairs, considers the weight to force ratio, and settles for leaning against the table instead.

"...I'm sorry." Tomas finally says, "I should have seen the whatever it was coming. How are you two holding up?" Tomas dares a look at the arm that, a few hours ago, he was fairly sure Richard was going to lose.

[*1) Have a word with Alice, make sure she is not going to gut anyone in their sleep.
2) Have a word with Richard, make sure he is not possessed or insane.
3) Have a word with Boucher, make sure he is not possessed or insane.
4) Repair faucet, he could hear the squeaking from outside.]

[yalenusveler]

"We found who we think was responsible. They got away though." Kerrian said, sounding rather disappointed about the second part. "It's possible they were responsible for the rampaging elemental. They had one with them that was made out of water and ice."

Lia was shot a look, suggesting if she was any more blunt at the moment, she would probably be being swung around by some angry person trying to crack open someone's skull. "We..really don't have a way to tell if it's the real thing or not. I mean, is there a way to tell if something's a genuine religious artifact?"