Shadow Wars: Conclusion (1328-1330)

[Master Claramae St. Laurence]

Prologue

In 1328, the arrival of a pair of spies seeking to utilize other talents or abstaining from presence in perilous nations proved to be the start of something more. With sanction from the Griffin, a collection of allies, intiates, and the crossing of paths an order was established under the appropriate shade of black. Whilst our heros have played parts in various adventures, some even worthy of public commision, the most daunting adventure of all has played out for nearly two years right beneath the eye of an uknowing populace. The world of shadow is a strange, haunting place where the beauty of all things becomes magnified. There appear to be no flaws. No imperfections. Work is done upon the stone and marble floors of European dynasties, often, without a drop of blood.

Alas, the Black Talons prove not so fortunate.

Cases of murder, artifacts, and past engagements are now spiraling to their final head. As the lot would say, "The pieces upon the board are set, and it is time to kill the King. End Game." Gottschalk, you see, is a very old game begging to be concluded. It will be death if it is not.

The Adventure So far entails..

Journey Foward-Subversion Tales
-Introduction of Sorschal and St. Laurence
-emergence of crossed paths, the air of foreboding
-various and sundry adventures upon matters of the past arisen
-introduction of allies: Lady Galanoes, Lady Aramoire
-establishment of the order, and the featuring of apprentices chosen among the noviates: Miss Ursula Darling and Miss Nairne Adair
-the cases of Miss Chantal May Rose, Petrov, and the murder of Miss Roses' sister
-the unfortunate circumstances of Nathan Renquest

Turas Lan, Guilded Lily
you have something that I want, but I shan't tell you..
Water Under the Bridge
Adair and Renquest
here we learn who you are, and what you've been, but we will keep you still..
A Past Most Haunting
Darling, Sorschal, And Sundry Company
The master's way with the feminine persuasion is awe inspiring..
An Entertaining First
Adair, Galanoes, Sorchal, and Company
Turas Lan, Docks
Rats in the Docks
Sorschal

Turas Lan, Underdark
Down Once More
Jean-Claude and Laurence, the invitation unto Jean-Claude to join

Turas Lan, Bryante Row
Along the Row, Part I
Vance, Viscreed, and Unfortunate Witnesses to near death

The World, England
Origins are in us all, some of us become key figures though we set out not to be
Shadow Wars: Leviathin


Turas Lan, Ebony Hall
We are more human than you recognize, and we all vye for something...in our world, true friends are rare
Along the Row, Part II
let me not die before I wake..
Stubborn Is as Stubborn Does
it isn't safe to know us
Sorschal and Galanos
Matters of the Heart
Sorschal and Darling
The Bad and the Ugly
Vance and Darling
Be Not Without Me
Vance and Viscreed
Bound Up by the Strings of Fate
Ursula, St. Laurence, Ensemble

Turas Lan, Ebony Hall
Twist the key, turn the lock with the clues to the puzzle, what's inside will abhor you

Shadow Wars:Unlocking Leviathin
St. Laurence, Sorschal, Viscreed

Current..

What the Hall faces is a threat generations in the making. Some of the Masters have been touched by its mystery, have witnessed the greats killed for it, and the generation left in their wake seek to raise it. All of the mystery, all of the plots and suspect lead down the road toward the masterwork and key that will raise Leviathin, and the one person whom can make it possible will either be murdered for it or torn to pieces while screaming. Needless to say none approve be they the ones who taught the bumpkin to be a lady, such as Inveryne, or observers, such as the General's wife.

Flung farther into the plot than perhaps intended, a chance tarot reading at a tavern by Ada told Janice what she must do. In order to cease the destruction, why not put what one wants on a silver platter? So that would be how an under-dark king seeking to avoid the world of shadow was tempted to do the one thing no man can resist: auction a virgin to the highest bidder for the under-world elite under the premise of one exquisite night in heaven. She will be there, attired in one of Jean's fabulous creations, among glass floors and glitter. So will they, all of them who wish to destroy and all who wish to preserve. It becomes more than the chance to save the daughter of a dead Master.

It is now the difference between exposure of the remaining and the death of all. It is now one man's temptation, and another man's heartache. It now becomes the duty of a woman to continue amidst the death of her fellow courtesan. It becomes the love of a brother for a sister, a friend for a friend. It becomes the ending of years worth of nightmares. It becomes the stand of seperate individuals in what could be their last night.

If Leviathin is risen, and its private army's called, then Europe will never be the same.

[Master Claramae St. Laurence]

If we don't seek help, we are going to die..

Winter 1329 - November/December

Claramae: Ah, the benefits of high station! Those on foot heard the snow crunch under their boots. Some stopped, sighing as a mis-step took them into a soggy, muddy bank that soaked into the lining of the shoes. Others clapped their hands before blowing in to them, hoping to bring some warmth to the body for the sake of continuing a sale. Through the thoroughfare, high station paraded a modest, still delicious accessory good coin purchased: a team of matched black horses moved down the winter lane, slick and beautiful as they carried a carriage of dark wood. The interior curtains were thick for the season, how lovely! Certainly, heated brick might even be beneath the feet of the one inside. While it lacked the garish accoutrements some of the upper tier required to show off, it was the understated elegance that gave way to the taste of its owner. English ivy had been carved about small portions Irish clover. It was possible, at least in wood, for the clover bud and English rose to bloom in happy, quiet peace. Ah, but none were keen enough to care for the sort of foilage upon the wood, only in that was some work of carving to admire. As it came to the seat of parliment and civic governance for the people of the fair state, inside a woman would pull back the furs from her legs.Curtain pulled a'back, the valey emerged to take the door in order to bring the passenger down. Madame disembarked by way of accepting offered hand, her own in doeskin and rabbit's fur. Ah, so was the same of a cloack constructed of no less than brown rabbits! How much did she pay for the waren of 'em, some wondered. Still, it was a tasteful affair. Always tasteful. Always precisely put together to be the pinacle of station. Thus was the entrance of Lady Govenor, Lady Laurence. (d)

Jack: It could be said that while Dunluce was the center of power and intrigue in Ireland, but when it came to the Celtic Nations? The center of power and intrigue was the city of Tarus Lan. So was it well and truly so odd to see one of the Lady St. Laurence's comrades - Lord Flynn, the Governor of Ireland - riding amongst the streets? While the Lady St. Laurence's mode of transportation was far more urbane than his own, Jack's suited him well: Jack and one of his orderlys/valets head toward the Blue Castle -- not mounted in the shelter and comfort of a carriage, but on the backs of their horses. Each was dressed warmly for the weather that Scotland had in the last of half of winter. Did the valet look toward his lord, to see how he reacted to seeing the English colors brought into the Blue Caslte? Jack merely arched an eyebrow and said, "Must be tha Lady Governor....." In Ireland? Every English crest had either been replaced with either Jack's personal crest (if on Government buildins) or that of the local lords. Or, in some instances? The late Ceannnfort, place in remembrance of her. Jack would dismount, along with his valet. "Come, let us find a fire... sae tha' we go an' be warm." (D)

Claramae: Pish. The Lady Govenor would not go about parading under the crest of England former! Perish the thought. The answer, you see ,was quite simple: She was not the former royalty, nor a Plantagenet. Nor had she intention of going about under such a scene as to render thoughts of the old establishment. Under the Mo'r Triath's highly odd, yet deliberate approach, with a new set of rules a new time is ushered in. Those were not English colors they gazed upon though they were of an English house. The standard of England was that of two barony's combined into one. The ivy, while English, also appeared in the crest of the O'Casey family. So were in the red of the shield, similar to that too of the St. Laurence, so the blending was quite easy. White, of course. The Rose of her father mingled well with the stag of mother, and a unicorn of fathers. While a crown was featured, it was far less and patterened after her reigning head of state. The one they both answered to. Ah yes. Times had changed. A tilt of head upward revealed observant eyes take notice of fellow constituate. A cant of head, a pay of greeting. "Govenor Flynn, good day." Upon memory Jack would recall the Lady spoke no more than was necessary, but always when needed. Today, she did not pause long for deliberation. If he met her, it would be at the Blue Castle entrance.The mind, ah, it ran at a quick pace of ten paces ahead of the common thought process. It churned the needed words to deliver unto Adam Aberdeen, in short order.: The order is in need of additional guardians, or in short, we are going to die before you notice. Not said outloud, naturally. Kept beneath the prim coif of hair on her head (d)

Jack: Did Jack flatter in his steps, when he realized that the Lady St. Laurence had spoken to him? There was a pause, a cant of his head. Both he and the valet exchanged a glance, before they answered - in unison - "Good eve, m'lady." "Good eve, Clara..." That was interesting. She'd spoken to him. He canted his head, "A pleasure to see ya out this eve. Would ye be mindin' join' me for a drink? I find tha cold does not agree wit me as it once did....." Including, of course, the ache in his injured arm. (D)


Claramae:God bless the informal spirits of the state! Were it not for the matters quite literally beating in her temples, a sign of outward amusement might have crested. Had they never spoken prior? Then it could be said that conversation twixt one party and the next met entirely two different things. "Nor does it with me, sir. Thank you, for your offer, but I must away to find his Majesty and conduct a meeting." The cold was not kind when wounds did not heal right, in fact, it made staying so well conducted murder. Pun intended. When she curtsied, it did not appear that she went lower than usual, though indeed she did by her estimation. Upon turning to go into the doors, even lifting enough hem to maneuver proved difficult, she told the man at her side. "Quickly...there is not much time." In a two fold sense: 1.) Her under-dark fellows were in a terrible way 2.) She for once, was no better, only had fantasic endurace. Capital, really, as long as she could speak and then leave (d)

Jack: There was another arch of eyebrow, "Of course, m'lady. Perhaps another time?" He glanced againt at his valet, before the pair of them headed off toward the common room. A nice, pleasant fire was indeed called for and a nice glass of whiskey for the pair. Was there trouble to be a foot? Seemed as though it was. He pondered it, a bit. (D)

Claramae: Ah. Smart man. Twas why the Govenors were surely your more unorthodox in some way or another. Upon the esccorts arm they'd inquire if the Lord was in session? No he was not, but he was not in the parliment hall. What of his own study, or among the gardens? Ah, no, he had left some time prior, but should a messenger be sent? Claramae merely shook her head no, stating it was best she merely await his return in her own study and begin upon the ventures they were to discuss. The path to that study moved through the commons. Some wondered at her, others admired the gown beneath the rabbit fur, while others did not envy the position of rallying the new, subjucated England. Soundless steps were serene across the marble floor until the last point at the door where a stumble occurred. "My lady! Tis my fault, are you well?" "Quite fine..worry not." A scene from the best company of players. Claramae had stumbled - and never faultered. The valet hid his worried expression before continuing on to some other chore of his momentary occupation. Inside of that room an entirely different production was unfolding. Her back came against the wall, as she pulled off the gloves on her hands. Unfastening one cuff sleeve, she noticed the bruises on one arm had darkened, and grayed. On the other her pores began to sweat with a tinge of red. "Oh Pish..this presents a dilemma.." she grumbled (d)

to be continued...

[Master Claramae St. Laurence]

II.

Welcome to the Nightmare..

Jean-Claude: Dawn of a new day, chased the night leaving the cool misty pinks of the oceanside city seeming more like a haven then that of a busy town. Thought morning had yet to come, the promise of a golden one was true. Still the lanterns were lit, and still the stars in the sky, shinning just as brightly in the night--if not brighter. Everyone wishes on the first star, but what of the last? He could recall a moment less occupied in his studies, of a younger sister whose life was only for the living greed, and gaining wealth; still he loved her dearly. From the glass roof of his laboratory, three stories from the streets a master of his trade watched the night fade away with little reason to wish it gone. She was safe, she was warm, and at peace--if only for the moment. The glass was frosted around the edges of the iron that held the panes, from the heat of the controlled fires beneath the various glass vials that lined the space of his work bench, connected together in various rhythms, for many different purposes. From one to another it created a warmth over the room, that only madness could call home. Part of his wickedness was there bleeding from tubes to trays, a frog connected from each limb, wound together by copper so thin that the slightest touch could sever the connection. This was his world, one he lived in alone, one that with reason, and justified only in the name of discovery, science, and pure imagination. Gentle padding of a creatures steps soon broke his thoughts as the long silver coat of the wolf came to pass to go out into her morning, and only then did he realize the time. Had he sat there all night? Pulling from his perch he stood to fill the space, a tall yet thin man whose back was still strong even in his ageing years. "I should go see Madam la Mort, no?" He smiled as he ran a mangled pale hand through the silver fur of his companion, and would start to dress. One glove before the other, an overcoat, and a silk scarf, would cover a thin frame adding weight that did not exist. Slow careful steps carried him to where she slept thisAngel asleep in his bed, and he would see to it her shoulders were covered, keeping out the cold, and at peace. With a brush to her cheek, Jean would make his exit leaving guard the very fear that would keep out an army. (d

Claramae: "This shall be a long morning, a very long morning. Ah well. It must be endured," she pulled a handkerchief from out of a concealed slit in the dress in order to dab it along her arms that wore a sheen of pink, sticky fluid. Broken body did due diligence to the justice of patience as the once physician's apprentice held herself together with a bit of cloth and intellect. Sliding slightly down the wall, she deduced the entire list of what had been ingested since the settling of England until the very moment her pores opened to reveal the extreme toxicity of the system. "The ability to maneuver in sloth was the goal, to overburden the system, the objective. A great deal of it was the discovery of those 'pon the inside." Let us hope that Vance followed protocol and allowed both a their poisoncraft and advanced physician students to bare witness for the mark of words. At Ebony Hall, the infiltrators whom were under-paid for the danger the Alderman placed them in paid a greater price under a trained blade. Dedicated nationalists, too, could be exceptional in their cruelty. Sunlight filtered through the shaded pane of a window capped with snow, falling on the desk where papers of state business were neatly kept. Beneath them, a book was opened to reveal a deep chasm. Inside of it, a glass vile with a long, thin steel rod for injection. An object not readily available, their sort possesed them in droves. The precious solution was the concoted antidote that kept her alive for this long. Where it had once fostered her sterile, now it flooded the veins quickly enough Of courseperspiration increased and the ability to lose the contents of one's stomach was not pretty. She grew sick in a glass bowl while her attendant listened on outside. "Madame, should we move on?" Wretching fit concluded with "Abseloutely not. Until we retain a fxture..upon his Lordship's location..we should remain to learn what else may be about. Our work can not be all street blood of late...there is something in marble halls ensuing as well...the Alderman has the patient for it where Kruase..does not. Just, find me a suitable glass of water, if you would?" The man was inspired to do one better. He pulled off his feathered cap, bowing to passing persons while inspecting any who might be familiar enough. When he sought the Irish Govenor, he had moved on to other business. "Damn it to hell!" He cursed himself, holding the hat against his body as he made progression toward a page in order to find a maid...until his salvation was seen in alliance with a man he found strange. Ah, strange was relative anyhow. "Good Morning, M'Lord Jean-Claude! How timely your arrival, we have been waiting for you.." His eyes, however, spoke of an utter desperation. (d)

Jean-Claude: wasn't even half of it. Jean-Claude struck the very root of fear into the hearts of those he passed, with eyes so black they held little direction as if only to stare through, then in the orbs of another. A good day, his limp was little, and he walked with all the swagger of a nobleman in all his finery. He was a humble man, but carried himself out of practice to look up to none. The world came to still with the meeting of the man, his madness loomingagainst the man who spoke too quickly, and out of turn. "Waiting?" It struck him, and his gloved hands came to hold steady the crutch before him. Instantly he tore down the man, with his gaze, causing shrinkage no doubt! "Waiting why?" Something was amiss, the man was nervous across him, frightened? He hoped not. "I am here to see Lady St. Laurence, and I realize my hour is early...but you have put that fear aside." Rule number one, never trust any on the inside for those were first to betray. "With your..waiting." (d

Claramae: "Oh, you know the Madame's preference for exactness, but your early account is by far a better thing when naught occupies her schedule, why, I shall announce you at once." The usual, should it please you was omitted as the man turned around from the pitch dark eyes to face a gilded door with pitch dark substance behind it. To the right of them was a page instead of a maid, bringing the customary cup of tea the Govenor preferred at this time of day since her installation as an Ambassador. He would slow his steps, seeming to discuss other chores with other chore do-ers while the valet in attendance to the English woman was made to speak to the Frenchmen as he knocked upon the door. God bless it! That Frenchmen disturbed him more so than anything, or anyone, he'd seen of late. Be it the lurking sound of murky depths in his tone or the lack of color in his expression...the thought subsided as a shaking hand was poised above the door. Before he knocked properly, he said quickly. "She will have me shot to convey this, but I am worried we will not leave this place, let alone her this room. Madame looks unlike herself." Within, Madame was emptying the belly's refuse into the fire, for lack of anywhere else to put it, and sighing, ruined a good desk by stowing the offensive pot in a bottom drawer. Should she survive the day, she was buying another one promptly. Writing in a sick-desk. She shivered, though noticed the continued shake was due to a cold spell, "Oh for the sake of heaven!" Needless to say, she still wouldn't be swearing. She would quickly button her cuffs and pull up her gloves. No sense of welcoming company naked, you know. A hand in public, out of season, was naked. "Whom is at the door? You may show them in now!" (d)

Jean-Claude: He listened along the way, keeping up well, but staying one step behind out of respect. Though, should the man fall surprise to learn there was in fact a heart that beat beneath the layers of heavy fabrics? It suddenly was pounding against his ribs, wanting to break free from his chest as this man spoke of Claramae's wellness. "I shall see you rewarded." He would counter against the man, as he would nod his head once he was announced; his black hair falling then like silk over either shoulder. "Merci, mon ami." Opening his stance to expel the invitation of his greeting smoke colored eyes would take in the sight before him as if he were looking into a mirror. Something had been wrong for many years, and seeing such color on her cheeks reminded him. Formal titles were given with proper respects, but once they were alone he was on her in a more strict draw of her name, "Claramae, you look pale." The pot calling the kettle black. Advancing forward, his gloved hand came to tip her chin so that he could balance his sight between the whites in her eyes to the dark center, surveying the reaction to the light and color. "Another mixture?" She was known for testing everything on herself first wasn't she? Lady Death. Was that what started such a title? Or was it the many objects of ones destruction hidden all over her body. "Shall I call for a healer? Or a mortician?" Was that a joke?.....In his dry sense of humor, yes.(d

Claramae: "Thank you, sir, thank you. This is quite important. Reward would be that Madame doesn't faint in public or die on my watch and she's not cross with me. That's reward enough." Ah good, humble man. He opened the door to reveal a a study taken beyond the guilded white walled, gold framing of the decor to include a restored fresco piece of Cherubim beholding the annunciation of the immaculate conception upon one wall, The Avarian shore on the next, and a bookshelf of requisite governance works on the other. A fire crisped, there was deep plushed furniture to sit on, and to conceal foul scent was that added of incense from another world. The effect was quite surreal, as well as stabalizing to the lungs. It made one wonder what in the world else was kept here abouts, or how she jerry-rigged her bodice. "And good day to you, Master. You are also lacking color." Aye, Pot, might I introduce you once again to Kettle? Once the door was closed she began the tale in quick summary, "I have a poison intolerance, tests upon myself are unnecessary. I use plants, small creatures. It does, however, stand to reason when you've been constantly a target, not a study tool, for well over two months it begins to wear on you. If they can't kill me outright, they are trying to make me slow. It's working. My pores are defunctional in omitting all of the toxin. In other matters, I am seeking Lord Aberdeen. We need Lord Campbell's guardians, at least in some, or we are going to die before we have a chance to finish. He is not here, as you can see." For the first time in his time with her he saw her blink three times. Oh dear, was her vision going askew? Fobble-wog. "Erstwhile I am sure the Alderman is up to something here as well..something important...both of which are highly important. I ..need to endure the morning to discover both. Again, and good morning to you." Oh God. She turned about for privacy, for she had to pull off her gloves. Oh this was utterly humiliating! The pale instrument of death went to the desk, as white asdeath itself (d)

Jean-Claude:His chest did rise when she stood, full of a breath that refused to be released until he was certain she would survive the episode. A new expression crossed a face that was as solid as a statue, carved from fine marble. He was worried! He had dabbled dearly in medicine only to hide his true passion. At Oxford he could learn of the human body, so that in Paris he could take it apart. However, a true man of the art he simply was not. Not without study, time both luxuries now. "Madam.." He had all but sat down, to only rise again when she started to get sick. He had not brought his bag, but all he needed was a single vial of her blood. Adelaide could find something to heal her. "You should not be upright, mon cher. Come.." His voice was a soft gentle sound of his manners falling away, well rehearsed and arrogant this one; now truly compassionate to her situation, and willing to get his coat dirty! Should the : need arise. "You shall survive this, I will not stand for another lost. You seek the Lord of the Isle, I shall fetch Peregrine. I am certain he knows all the secret chambers..it is a hobby of his." Besides that he was hired to kill nearly half the Isle, there very reason for landing here on the matter. A deep anger set in as he eased her back taking a seat at her side. "Call for your stewards, I need my bag. Do not worry so, you are in good hands." Strange hishands would forever be covered. He had kept his calm throughout this entire thing, waiting and watching. Yet here he simply nearly felt every angry demon flare to life with his poor circulation. "I am not a murderer, Master St.Laurence, but sworn to God.." His voice was a quiet hiss. "I will do as I must to see this carried through." (d

Claramae "Sir.." She replied, for the sake of the sound that would flit through the doors to appear as conversational on the normal topics as possible. Behind the gilded doors was a different scene entirely. Things had become bad, very quickly, and with only a matter of days until the literal end game, someone somewhere was sitting in contentment watching the strong fall like a house of cards in the wind. For once, she did not fight against him as he eased her back into the chair for he was quite right to do so. Her body wavered while her ears heard a murky version of he said. "I will call them..but you must get me to Lord Adam. Oh..Oh God Peregrine in secret chambers, we hired the manas a street..informant not to flit about in cubby holes! How on earth do you deal with him..oh and we made him a master of his creed, oh..Lord help us. I..appreciate this...but..oh...fiddle." Knock knock, "Tea, m'lady and m'lord" Blast! The morning cutsom! She took a breath in to continue to be a fantastic actress and nodded to him to do the same, folding her now naked hands under the desk, "and that, sir, is precisely why I feel I should discuss the coming French policy with his lordship. I feel we will make enemies out of the people if we do not renew the Auld Alliance. Do you not agree?" The tea was brought in, two cups. The man lay them on the corner edge of the desk was customary. He even left the schedule of the day's business, as was customary. But he was not a customary person, simply because he lingered a little longer than he ought. Not only were they sitting in the middle of a dual assasination attempt, he was watching. The Alderman had grown anxious, if not zealous with how she'd survived his attempts this long. As entertaining as it was, really, could she not expire? He so tired of it all. Looking down intothe cups she motioned to Jean only to pretend. "I think I should like some slices of orange. Wouldn't you, sir? There is a shipment. A bit of sun for a cold, cold season..." Under that table, she was reaching into the cut open upper of the underside. Nudging his foot, she inspired him to do the same. Naturally, it was an arm's chest. They were not going to leave without dancing for a bit.. (d)

Jean-Claude: Like a puppet on his string, his master pulled back the line and Jean-Claude returned to the perfect posture, that was as natural to him as breathing. "Mon Cher," He looked up the line to the man, reaching out to touch Claramae's hand doubting her if only for a moment. "Ce n'est pas bon..pour boire..pour manger..quand vous ne le faites pas.." He spoke very slowly and very quietly. Relieved she had already been a step ahead, he would turn the tip of his cane down, and rest his hand over the ruby. "Oranges sound delightful." Fruit. Always the symbol of what was forbidden. Old perhaps, but rusty he was not. No this man was far too educated to die this way. Mechanics lined the inside of sleeves, his walking stick and even up his back, but still he reached for the arms. Pere would be so upset he was going to miss this fight. (d

Danae: It wasn't uncommon for Danae to go around and check in on other posts, whether the men were under her command or not. Old habits died hard... ever since Avaria, she'd been accustom to check out every possible post during the night watches and well, even here in Skye, that didn;t change a whole lot. However, upon reaching the grounds of Blue Castle, she was told that the Lady St Laurence was here, and figured while she was at it, to check in with her. It had been forever since she'd seen Alex... or even heard anything about him and knew that if anyone was to know something about him... Claramae would. Not to mention, she wanted to know what new developments had surfaced, and there was no if... she knew there had to be, something in her gut told her. After checking in on a few other less than common places, she made her way to where the others were and instead of simply walking in, knocked upon the door to await permission to enter. Danae might be one that didn't follow rules all the time... but she did know how to show some respect to those she took orders from. [d]

Claramae: St. Laurence had the intention of growing to be an aged madame whom, with her husband, watched he workings of a political stronghold, visited Turas Lan often, and vacationed on shores in the tropics where they might benefit from warmth to ease old battle scars. Dying at the hands of a cup of tea was simply not in her long itinerary! The valet moved to open the door, and as he did found that the hall had been emptied for a continued session of the day's Parliment, to which none had come to fetch the Madame. Peering further, a man would bow seeming to a lord in another corner while withdrawing..."ALDERMAN!" He wasted no time being polite, let alone jerking at the door so it wouldopen if not to thrust Danae out of the way. Very narrowly he avoided a small crossbolt from the sleeve of Alderman's Deichenahause. 'DIECHENHAUSE IS HERE!" With the jig up, the tea cup barer wasted no time in arming himself. In the quiet blue castle walls while others discussed politics, Danae and Jean-Claude would personally be introduced to Deichenhause. What little guard was not stationed elsewhere that met him were being cut to shreds by what was thrown, or what was on his hands. Awaiting behind the tea servant from the passage to the left? Rivnor "Get up Jean, Get up!" When the first dagger flew, she upturned the desk and dove behind it momentarily. Time to be armed! (d)

Jean-Claude: The time has come indeed! With a rise that could rival his age, he was quick to stand. The motions fluid as battle came to life, and the air moved in favor around him. It was a wild graceful motion that had him turned to face his new enemy, and how quickly his cane came to deflect a dagger. This was not something they taught him at boarding school. No--this was all pirates. He took shelter behind the furniture if only to regain himself. Pale thin lips were flat against his face, as his eyes filled with the moment. Tis the time to dance, he thought if only it were a glittering ball. Stripping away his overcoat he remained behind the edge of the hearth, where now a body in those oversized white sleeves, and fine french lace prepared for war. "You stay behind me." He spoke to her as she hid behind her table. "Mine is less important." Meaning his life of course, as it was. He was new to this order, and she the heart. (d

Danae: Leave it to Danae to be at the wrong place at the wrong time... or.. how she;d look at it, the right place at the right time. As the door was opened, things quickly went from quiet to chaotic. Shouts rang out and the keen ears of of the ranger heard the footfalls of many charging down the hall. Whether it was her losing her balance or being shoved... she quickly regained a steady foot hold and as her eyes shifted from the room to the hall, without any hesitation, her hand reached down to her thigh to withdraw the weapon strapped there. One of Deicenhause's men ran past him, charging after the Commander. Danae ducked and side shifted by a step while bringing up a hand to make a
deadly blow. Though where it should have been a fist making contact to the man's stomach, it was the blade of her katar instead. There was nothing for Danae to take cover behind and honestly, she wouldn't have it any other way. There was a yell as the Greek woman called for back up. ``GUARDS!`` As she prepared to take on the next assailant. [d]

Claramae: All of them, a team, now? Here! "God, let me live to see the Parliment alive!" Oh, knowingly he would keep the Parlimentarians alive, though a few token choices were as they fought being made ready to be slit from navel to nose.She rose up from behind the desk with he veil undone, hair streaming with nothing less than two hands holding something only achieved thus far by sea farers and private weapon's collectors. The flintlock pistol was pressed as adrenaline became the fuel to steady her aim. It caught the shoulder of another emerging through the servant's passage, while Rivnor was moving for Jean Claude.

Rivnor: He danced a danced,smiling like a gentelmen as he too furnished a walking impliment come weapon. "Ah, good day." He jarbled, thrusting out for an arm, a bit of side. Teasing. Erstwhile his associate launched a knife that nipped a bit of that fine white lace. For Danae, Diechenhause merely yawned. Guards, what guards? Oh, you mean those locked in the parliment room but uncaring because it was in session! The ones, whom even now, a few wondered why they were...going deaf? Another, in a corner she could watch, going blind right before her eyes. Bang! Another shot rang out, from a second pistol, taking a man's armdown to limp at his side. Still advancing forward, he was undone when Claramae used the butt of the pistol to crack his skull. "Didn't think it would be that easy did you, sir? The French are so pompous. So are the English. A fine choice, can use a few less parlimentians...Philip Valois is too busy, the Plantagenets are gone. What is a few ...parliment heads while you play with us?" Rivnor stepped back, before taking a moment to shoot another bit of his wrist bolts at Claramae, making her dodge, making her ache.

Diechenhause: For Danae? Diechenause just grinned. "Ah. So Sorschal has taste for the brown ones, hmm? Won' tyou look so pretty.....cut to ribbons on alderman's table? Miss Nairne Adair did." The courtesan? Dead for months, but he tossed her a souvenir. The woman's wizzened hand. (d)

Jean-Claude: He stood solid deflecting every tease without any shift in his face. His feet squared away with his shoulders to force forward, and turn the gentleman around. All was fair in love and war, but when it came to survival Jean-Claude learned long ago it mattered very little the tactics in which it was achieved. The tip of his blade went round and round with his opposite, in perfect form until them came close enough his fist would connect with the man's face. Strength that had been overlooked, was always the best element of surprise, and the old man was rather limber on his feet. Pompous ha! The other, would get a good slice in, across his side he felt the blade skin him. "Merde." He cupped his side, with eyes raged forward to take between his gloved fingers three small equipped throwing knives, to sail in a single flick. Like a deck of cards he spread them across the board. Simply a flesh wound. "Danae!" He called forward free from his attacker for the moment. "Gentlemen. It would not be wise." He did try to reason with them, Danae wasn't one to mess with..and apparently neither was Claramae. What a morning! "La Morte," She fought dirty..with guns. Lord, Pere was going to simply be green with envy. (d

Danae Not seeing the rush of guards coming in, Danae made a shake of her head as she mouthed to herself. ``If you want something done right, I guess you have to do it yourself.`` she huffed. Another man came charging at her and this one seemed to stop dead in his tracks right before her. Just as he paused, she brought up that right foot and cracked his chin long enough to stun him. She stepped forward, and with that balled right fist, thrust it forward toward his nose, breaking it. With her fist now gone, his nose was hit once more with a upward jar from the palm of her hand, shoving the broken bone up into his brain even before he had a chance to draw his weapon. She was as fast as a cat, then tossed the body up against the wall of the hall. She heard Jean-Claude's yell and instead of looking his way, yelled. ``Get her out of here!`` meaning Claramae. She knew that Clara was their target, but to get to her, they'd have to face off with a couple others. When Danae came face to face with Deicenhause, she arched a brow at his comment. ``You and this Alderman can kiss the cheeks of my brown ass!`` she yelled back as she dodged the hand he tossed her way while pulling out her scimitar and taking a defensive stance. She was ready, a weapon in each hand. [d]

Alderman: This was quite the production for one target. The Alderman was a man who fathomed the possibility because he had been doing this for well over forty years. For a man of 60, his gray hair swung with still dark pieces of thick black. Walking the upper railing Danae would hear a voice above her head, "And while someone does that, praytell, what will you do about this?" Red blood dripped on the Greek from above, and should she look to see its source, a dead body would be pushed down for her immediate observation. One eye was gourged from the socket, the other stared in permanent horror, and so lay on her the body of one dignitary. A body defiled now by her weaponry perhaps? "Deichenhause to the next phase.." Putting his hand to the balcony he sprung from one floor to land on the next, peering down on the greek. A slinking, slithering feeling began to anchor one arm from the wall. "Punjabi lasso. You are a woman whom can appreciate such things if you associate with Gottschalk's Sorschal. Though he seems to have failed in educating you while he was..enjoying the fruits of his labor. Pity." He took a hand to play with her hair, using a foot to press the body down like a spider. "This one you could have saved while you played with Heir Deichenhause, but..alas. A waste these politicians. You won't care about the other three"

Rivnor's Exit:Within the room, the flux of people play with result in Claramae's full presence from out of the desk Bending backwards, she launched flat knives in a spiral. She breathed harder, heavier. This was a show and she knew it! One with a purpose. Between deaf guards and altered rooms, none heard what was ensuing. Who cared from the streets, if the room was closed? Jean's man went down, and another came at him. He dove for the Frenchman's legs, intent to pull him down. It was not much of a worry, for with a few hits for sourvenir Rivnor would retire, and punjabi lassos would begin to anchor down the Frenchmen and English Rose, not without cutting..of course. "A trap.....damn it!" She hissed, yowling as her arm was held. Rivnor took the chance to back hand her face, and step on the Frenchman's thigh as he departed. The hearth turned, letting him out....and two parliment members for them to see. Before their eyes..the men were being sliced by the same thin strands holding them down (d)

Jean-Claude It was a cheap move, his legs were his weakness, flesh that had melted from the bone was thin, and hardly worked well enough on their own. Yet, it was an effective one--he cried out, but the words in French cussing and hissing like a wild animal. However, when he struck Claramae Jean-Claude felt his age catch up to him quick. This was what they went against? If he could take down St. Laurence, then what of Janice? Selfish thoughts, but the gears had started. Ideas that were simply not enough, and soon a reality would hit him harder then any blow he received tonight. Masterminds would sit at tables tonight, if he got out. The sound of the Lasso's caught him, and he held his hand to keep them from connecting. Blinded then by the rage and madness of the visions of cutting through this man's chest. He would find sweet victory at this, and cut open that man's beating heart. Hell, he'd bring him back to life to do it again. He needed to stand up, he needed to get to Pere, and he needed to get home. "The next phase?" He spoke out over the now silent room. "Claramae..Mon Dieu..are you hurt?" Then over his shoulder to check on Danae. Pshhh, she was ready for round 2! (d

Danae: Whether it was deemed confidence or sheer cokeiness, it could be argued no doubt, but in any case... Danae walked the walk and talked the talk. How she missed the next move however was something perhaps she would never know. Maybe it was the worry of Alex and Claramae, the nightly patrols, the intense daily training and the endless travels for her brothers sake. Perhaps, and most likely, it was the combination of them all. For each could put a strain on the Greek in either a physical, emotional, or mental way. When the voice above her came, she looked up, and there before her was a body in all its horrible glory only for it to be pushed upon her and have both the Commander as well as the dead body fall to the floor. Danae noticed she had been anchored somehow and at first as she struggled, more blood seem to make its claim where it may. Finally she realized the more she moved, the worse it made it as the thin lines cut deeper into the body on top of her. He had played with her hair! The son of a bytch had been so bold to touch her as if she were his! Oh hell no... that wasn't going to bode well with the Greek at all. She yelled out in frustration. ``You bastard... can't face me like a real man can you!`` The good thing was, only one arm had been caught up in the lines, and so with her free one, she was able to move carefully and cut a main line.

Alderman: "Oh, hmm. Aren't you unpolished? Ah well. Enjoy the puzzle. Did you notice, delightful tiles..these." And right before Danae's eyes the tiles began to flip and groan. Blood spattered floors were immucalate again. Patterns conjoined to flawlessness. Guards? They stood at their posts, blind, deaf? Those that had scrambled enough to be aware of the mind numbing affects of the impairment were dead, seeming to be pulled off into what, exactly? What in the hell was this?! This was all an illusion, no? Real, but how? If one learns illusions they all must begin somewhere, yes? Before he went into the rooms as Danae watched the battle become nothing more than a bad dream, he made sure to at least crack a bone in her leg with his boot heel. The heel! His eyes would haunt her forever, and he went off into the rooms to observe the Frenchmen and the Englishwoman, "Ah! Vittergaust's Rose and one of her well dressed friends! Did you enjoy our..message?" He avoided Jean-Claude, shrugging, but with cat like grace took up Claramae by the hair. Looking at the Alderman was akin to looking at Gottschalk twenty times over. Fear, real, pure fear contourted her face into expression in broad daylight! She actually screamed! Pulling away from him despite the lasso's blood letting quality, he shhshed her with a finger. "Now look, son of Bordeaux, you will appreciate art, oui? Kruase believes the poisoining of Sorschal for weeks on end a great brava. Yes, the man is hardly lucid and were it not for the master's skill, he would have died in a shanty. But, I will concur with my associate it is not sporting to kill when one is not at their best." With his hand he drew out in one stroke the ribbons of Claramae's dress along the back, he deftly loosened the corset in a move that enlivened her to struggle anew, in humilitation..he presented for review her back. Expertly carved with theTree of Life in certain portions. "Deichenhause got to her weeks ago, but of course being the strong one she is, nothing was said, nothing known. Though the poison does allow the last of infection to linger..Ah, missed a spot" He took his fingernail to etch in a circle as tears hit the floor from her face. "Do not worry, I have not come to kill her today. Krause wanted three weeks, by which I do believe you have at least a fortnight left? I do intend to make it quite clear, however...." He smiled at Jean claude, coming face to face with him now as he dropped Clare like a doll. "I am going to dissect your Greek friend, and finish what was begun long ago. The English rose will be a bare bush...and I do believe you have others, no? The French Trollop you keep, The Lady Inveryne.? Ah but you must be at your best. So I leave yo unow, naturally. Much to do." He left the one room that was left ashambles, and as he did the bindings let up. Danae might crawl to the room if she wish, seal the door, avoid the members of parliment coming with no idea what ensued, yes? Of course. Do hurry now darling girl..."And as for the little..Jew. In time.. In good time. Fair day to you." And with that the Alderman, his men, and his frightening illusions left with him. But what remained in the mind was quite real. How long had it been since she'd been taken, was it England?Jean Claude saw the marks of that tree clear as day through the corset strings..(d)



Jean-Claude: Perhaps he had been in denial, traveling between blows, in the heat of battles best saved for soldiers..but he had not remembered. To expose Claramae's body would be like placing her in court without a corset, undoing her hair, and leaving her there within the womb of humiliation. His gloved hand came to cover his lips, brushing his fingertips over the thin curve of his mouth, never in all his life did he feel so powerless. His thoughts consumed him of warning them all, the drug..the drug could do it. Kill this man, kill his men..kill them all. It had made madness out of wolves, killed nearly half the town, and burned the rest. What was left of the infection was below the earth, down in the underground where his lab was part of the cave-in. He would enjoy watching this man's eyes sink in, his lips thin out, and his tongue turn to sand in his mouth--that mouth that spoke of all he loved Ada..Rosalind..Janice..for shame. Claramae. He broke free from the binds, letting the rest go. For what life was worth living without small sacrifices! His gloved hand touched her shoulder as he found his knees under him. "It is over, Mon Cher..he is gone." He brushed her hair from her neck before looking up to find Danae..Was she safe? Was she ok? And could she get his coat to cover Claramae? He would simply come to pet her, brush her hair gently with his palm, until she came around. In the moment he watched as their blood ran together on the floor, and clasped her shoulder once again. He would get his revenge. (d

Danae: Danae's wrist bent just enough to let the katar's blade slice through that main line, freeing her a little. But just as she thought he had left her to his device... he reappeared. Her eyes cut toward the tiles he spoke of while thin brows furrowed in puzzlement. Next thing she knew, everything was changing right before her very eyes. She blinked a couple times, and still her vision didn't seem as it should be. The force of the blow to her leg made her grimace in pain...she heard the cracking or popping of bone as she finally yelled. When she opened her eyes again, she saw his eyes... and again she shut them. Danae heard him walk away.. and as he moved off toward the room, she opened her eyes once more. Her vision was blurry still but had improved and she carefully began to struggle with the lines again. Finally feeling enough slack, she tried shoving the dead body off of her and lay there a moment. The Commanderwas trying to take a moment to gather herself. Slowly she turned on her side and as she tried to push up, she screamed in pain again as the cracked bone shifted to cause more pain. Sheathing the katar, she crawled with her scimitar in hand. Pulling herself and sliding across the floor, pausing a time or two until she was in the room. With her good leg, her foot kicked the door closed behind her before she resumed sliding across the floor again until she reached both Claramae and Jean-Claude. Danae was a bloody mess... her face was smeared with crimson and her clothes stained. She saw Claramae's exsposed back and the muscles in her jaw tightened as she gritted her teeth in fury. Shestruggled to move about but managed to free her cloak and looked to Jean Claude. `` Lets use this to cover her...`` she said as she pulled at one side while tossing him the other, making eye contact with him a moment and they bothseem to be thinking the same thing. This man... these men... they were as good as dead. [d]

Claramae: Inside of a head where books, numbers, manners, and logic summized the essence of all things emotion had been laid on an altar to die and be buried. Only it was never really dead, only in a place reachable by a select few. To be so exposed, he may as well have raped her before their eyes. The exposed back showed wicked symmetry. An alchemic table for the ages of faith and mystery, the way of a Jewish thought process. It was fitting, her master had been a Jew. She saw the years pull back to the underside of Venice, of Florence, was drowning in murky water with only her screams for company. With Sorschal....- then the present intruded- as soon as they touched her the flinch was dramatic.as her body had gone motionless. "D..don't! Don't...do not..touch me..." She choked, half hiss, half plea. Desperate to recover herself..desperate to have never had the secret of an English night thrust out for them to see...she needed a moment..several.."I..don't...like...short spaces..nor..vast..please..do not touch me yet." The body of the parliment man who'd fallen on Danae would be nothing by the time sound filled that hall again. Chatting voices.Laughter. Sighs over the amount of work it took to run a nation. One hand covered an ear. God, sound! " In..in order to leave, take the servant's passage...um. Merely, merely help me to my feet. I..will show you.the way..out..Go to the Hall. Go the way I show you. Stay there...for God sakes stay there......" She would have to go with them. One hand held her stomach, the other fumbled on the overtuned desk for some way to her feet. Undone hair. Opendress. Marked. (d)

Conclusion

Through the passages of the castle and city proper, all would reach their destination. Wounds would begin to be mended but the greatest intrusion done toward the body was the thrust in daylight the mind had to endure. Despite her state of being, the actress swallowed more of herself. After she was piece-mealed, a dress was dawned, a horse taken instead of the grandiose carriage..and she made way for the one place she would imagine Adam to be. A secret, of course, twixt monarch and spies.

Jean-Claude plotted his revenge as he mended the Greecian's leg. Sorschal had pushed her away, repeatedly, in order to avoid exactly this. While Jean-Claude would puzzle over what he had seen, how would it effect the Greek?

[Master Claramae St. Laurence]

To Seek Aid From a Friend, If Such is So
Written with Claramae and Adam

A friend is often privy to things the common person wouldn't know. What if, by chance, friend came with the the knowledge of a personal shield between all that would harm you and all that would keep you aloft in the world? If you had a friend such as this, what would you do for them? Oft the Lady was repaid for her service in ungodly sums of money, jewels, estates, title, and political amnesty. For all of the trouble in the last pair of years, things built on man's importance proved fickle. Lands collapsed, reigns ended. She had done things in the last pair of years she would never admit to doing in polite nor private company. She had fled an occupation, watched as cases became trickier to solve, and the walls close in. She had seen an order built and wept in private when it began to die. Still, fate had been kind to give her close persons to rely upon. Sorschal was with her. Michael, her husband now. Percival, her half brother to reveal that she was not all that was left of an otherwise ended house, and by choice. The Order brought with it an unusual collection of faces. There was a woman whom after learning to leap upon a wall like a cat sat upon it to discuss with her the nature of the times for many hours. A Greek proved to not afraid of her, and she'd even learned to respect women of the bed sheets.

To conclude the list of mention, she had also been thrust out to the fore ,when she expressly desired to be in the back. She hoped now being the Governor of England and amidst his shadow keepers would hold benefit. The Freesian galloped down the lane with a rider who's body was riddled with pain. Inside of the gloves her hands barely found the strength to hold on to the reigns. Side saddle was for the sake of appearences only. Stretching a leg about the saddle's horn so her skirts did not reveal themselves pulled muscless in the thigh. Calves tensed while the upper thigh began to go numb. Cicero was not pleased by the intensity he was pushed to in order to navigate the muddy side roads leading to the upper wall from behind the House. Yes, the way was shorter, but frought with deep mud patches and ice. At times, she made him prance to avoid a slipper decent down the Cullins. At others, she pushed him. By the time they reached the high reaches where a Lord was known to survey his holdings..the effect was stark. Her hair was devoid of pin, her body devoid of cloak to shield from the falling snow.

His back was to her. As well it should be, but would not remain.

He would remember the way in which she called to him:

"Adam, we need your help. If not, there will be nothing left of any of us in ebony hall.."

She doubled forward. No pardon, no use of title, no manner exact to manners. .....

Months had past, yet the thought of her would not… Life continued… but behind the scenes, he knew trouble brewed… but she had told him… "If I am going to be at the fore of your ideals, than you will need to learn a movement in the back of a painting when you see it.” Still, no personal word from her, only signed and sealed reports, her seal, as usual, from the Duchy of England… until…

Until, one day, as the Mo’r Triath made his usual rounds outside the city, flanked, as always by the Gold Talons, she rode upon them… Recognized as Lady St Laurence, she was allowed to ride past them, to Him… And as she spoke, he turned around sharply, a bit surprised, and gave her a big smile, which disintegrated upon seeing her expression and listened to her words… “My help? What am I to do lass?” he spoke as he took her reisn of her steed. “How can I help you? You of all people…?”

The Lady Laurence rendered immediate movement of the guard. Among themselves, they often spoke about how the likes of an Ebony Talon could shift the stance of a man in the same fashion as those who were solid in the Court. Among them, the work of a choice few people invoked equal amounts respect and fear. Imagine their surprise when it was her that wore the face of fear. One arm wrapped about her middle while the other held the saddle horn. Using it as a post, she pushed herself back to sit straight in the saddle. Inward, she reflected on their last meeting. He could not account for her whereabouts in Turas Lan. He received his reports on the state of the Duchy regularly, as well as sealed documents reflecting the state of parliment in Blue Castle from one particular set of eyes. Still, it would be hard to say if if it was her, or one of her associates.

On this day, this one day, a guard was brought down. To come to the point was to pull away the smooth top in order to show the fraying edges of the picture. The canvas of the painting she'd mentioned was coming to pieces. "We are against enemies of the Order that will become enemies of the nation if we do not stop them. Nothing has been said of it, and for it we are all nearly dead. Our noviates, our barely honed advance students, even the masters. I need your permission, my lord...." she winced, gritting her teeth together, "to draw from the other ends of the Order. The White, The Gold. Whichever may spare ends. We have sought to make of this to Sir Kendrew, but have no time to reach him. Your wife, I could not burden, nor give fear to. So it falls on you now."


He could see her in pain… and his heart ached so… His gloved hand pressed upon her leg… “Alight… stay the eve to rest… We can make camp…” He knew she made sense… She knew the darkness that lurked behind… but Skye was just recovering from a major war… a campaign of freedom, not even a winter prior… Eyes met eyes as he looked to her, and she to him…

"I can not make camp. I would not..hold well, outside." The embarrasment was swallowed underneath the practical reasoning that if she were outside the entire night, she might freeze. She might grow sick, which would not bode well with her present condition. Her face became a pale version of itself.

The horse stamped impatient, and it's jolting body made the work of a rough artist's hands scream out in pain. Her mouth opened into a silent o, but all that manfiested was a single word. "Please.."


She was outwardly cold-hearted, intelligent, precise, and oft demanding… He was emotional, learned… with a soft heart… like his Mother… but it was her plea that made tears form in his eyes… Quickly looking at one of the Gold Talons… “Gae with Lady St Laurence… see that she gets what she requires… Charge all tallies to my account…” he looks back up to Claramae… “Lady… fair thee well… an’ coom back tae me…” Eight little words… and a squeeze to her leg would let her know how he felt, and his worry that accompanied her plea. He would simply step back and allow her to go her way.

The lady upon the horse was so moved by his immediate expression that she could have descended from the back of the horse to kiss the hem of his tunic. In spirit, her eyes did this where action would have miserably failed. It took everything she could muster in order to remain high in the saddle. What would it be like to fall, like some maid in an old tale, in to the arms of a man? Some are destined to be the fair headed brides of lore while others, like herself, were given dark hair and strange things to do. Claramae looked down to the hand on her leg. It was so alien, once, that so many would vye for the chance to offer her touch. In her current state, she reached for his hand as the snow fell around them. "I will. God save you, my lord.."
"and..friend."



to be continued

[Master Claramae St. Laurence]

We did not seek to know one another, but now we do. We are friends, you and I. Tied together for better or worse. The future brings with it darkness so shed a little light in it, for me?

A Winter Storm

Claramae: Appropriate weather over-head set the mood in Scotland for the story to be told, It was a thick, cloud covered day descending into a darker night. In the distant Cullins, the thunder rolled like a tribe of wild horses. Sparks of stare fire and the lost pieces of a breaking moon were lost, under their hooves, and in the dust of their wake.. Or to put it simply, that was how the evening read between the pages of a private book between a pair of even more private hands. In the stables lined with all manner of horses, Cicero tossed his head. He was ill-tempered, and with good reason. He'd been made to ride hard in cold, wet mud. He jumped over cobbled rodes for the sake of an audience his lady had to make. She, too, was in no better way though it was not by nature of a mere out of sorts mood. "Cicero..shhh. Shh." Black as Death caused, the rear of the stable was filled with Black Freesians. Giving beast what man didn't recieve, she smiled, turning about to proceed back into the household. The stable itself was in the second building of the great house, though her path turned left toward the back in order to move through a panel door with an obvious limp. (d)

Jean-Claude He had slept, the deep lines around his eyes let, and with it so too did his color return. He had been forced down, by able hands having met his breaking point. Yet standing now on the steps of the hall he watched the winter storm roll in and the weight of the gravity of the pressing moon could not roll from his shoulders. A much different man, brought to reality waited with hands folded over the edge of his cane, that was no longer there for support--it was needed. Under the formality of his attire he was a bandaged man, but never broken. Jean-Claude stood a bit taller, as he had survived to learn; this lesson one he would forever protect. How easily he could have been mistaken as one stone statues had not his long straight raven strands moved about him like smoke carried by the wind. New to the order, Jean was an old friend one who surfaced in the hearts of many only to pry their fear, and soon offer a deep true loyal devotion. Here it was no different, he had seen her back after all. They were practically married, "I had come to check on my patient, and I hear she has locked herself away.." He called out from his perch, and would have met her half way in better health. (d

Claramae: The way the lady attired herself was less in the sense of normalcy. Voluminous skirts were depressed for a lack of flamboyant layer that once pushed her hem a decent distance from her feet.The sleeves were still long, the neckline might broker surprise. It was open, with neither a collar nor form of closure to conceal the flesh where a crucifix hung in gold and ruby. Hair was devoid of veil or pin, left in a braid that dallied long across the left shoulder to stop near her hip. Simplification revealed an absence of one layer, would it allow for the sight of another? No khol nor blushed cheeks did Vincere-St. Laurence e'er seek to where, for the natural shade of rose was flattering. Now, it had been sucked dry, with only the cold to beat against her face for substance. Company always came to call on the main steps, to come through the main door. To find him in the stable house was akin to finding a hair that was out of place upon the head. An ankle that was shown! "Good evening, Master Jean-Claude. Tis a strange place to come and call on a patient, then again, perhaps tis a strange place find one. I was to come into the house, shall you join me?" A member of the order addressed another member of the order ,or was it that a man addressed a woman?A friend, perhaps, hoping to gain the same? "Tis true. There is no use of me to work this day." (d)

Jean-Claude: "Hmm," He would curl his thin lips with the raise of a gloved hand to expel the thought with a gesture, "But I am a strange man no?" His English flawless, but the sounds that carried were fluent with his accent, and filled with truth. He was a strange man, as from under his overcoat there falling from his sleeve..lace. How deadly those hands, protected by leather gloves and a finely crafted pattern. "You are joking, of course. Surely you have been as I?" Worried sick until his stomach bled from the inside, getting lost in his work to pass the hours, and drugging himself enough to force rest to live in his eyes. "Lady St. Laurence I had thought I told you, you should not be out of bed." A sad day when he understood, how could she even sleep in her own bed? Every armed guard he knew was posted outside his door, Peregrine sat on the roof bow in hand, poised and ready to allow Jean to rest. It had upset him deeply, and the pirate was upping the stakes. No matter how much it pained him to lean on his bad leg, or how much he wished to give his not-so-bad leg a break, Jean-Claude would still offer her his arm. "The air is bitter cold, and it would be my luck as of late you would catch your death." In other words, he was going in!(D

Claramae: "Catch my death...if you or I caught our deaths instead of being the creation of them the world thus becomes strange indeed. Hmm. One might even call that black humor." Humor? Was that as alien to their likes as admitting to worry, defeat, sadness, or as it was now injury? The Alderman had left no stone unturned in his effort to parlay the message that his resources were beyond what could be conjured, his skill beyond imagination. Without care, he cracked bones, stripped clothes, and made threats as good as promises. Blood dissolved into the floor, the dead vanished, and in his wake were left three people to ponder. No protest came as she, with ungloved hand, accepted his arm. "perhaps between the two of us, we will make two decent legs." As they walked beyond the stable through the panel door, on the way toward a salon, they walked through one of the famous glass halls. Mirrors on either side revealed the lower story, but the lower story was not privy to them. Pattern waves of light swam with a shadow to indicate water was somewhere near, the same that had flooded the house foundations to save it from the fires. "Sleep evades me. My tea was laced, of course, but it seems my stronger tolerance demands a stronger thing." (d)

Jean-Claude: "Ah, but it is humor, and of nothing I have learned from those I love it is zeh(^.^) best medicine." His palm curled over the ruby suddenly very aware of how real this pain was. His legs did not hurt as much as they grew stiff. He was a man who could not keep them still very long before he would have stretch, only if fear of learning to walk all over again. Yet, what that man did yesterday nearly kept him in that bed. He was too old for this. "Non, Mon Cher Amie, I do not think it is wise you change your habit. To come off such a drug is worse then remaining, it is a long painful suffering time." Though he did not know the mixture, "You need your rest." Dark eyes shifted over the room that he so vaguely remembered, in dreams spawned from the night of the flood, and the darling Angel trying to save this Hall. "Pere' will be along later, he has a few things to do before the night. It appears a few more attendants will be at the masque then he had counted for. Men of importance, high bidders his Ace of Spades wrote long letters to invite." It killed him, and in every single mirror his face only paled thinking of entire transaction. The deal had become personal, and he felt himself grow dizzy thinking now of what could happen. "Claramae.." He inhaled closing his eyes switching places his hand to her arm, "I need to sit down. Forgive me." He was not unwell, but sick in all the same motion with what ifs? Perhaps it was simply the mirrors. (d

Claramae: "If one can not jest, one has not chance to endure o'er long." She attempted to smile but it fell short by only finding the face hardly register a flicker. Eyes turned downward as she watched bits of water under them turn to stone, then to long woven carpets. His arm allowed her to better stand in order to better lead them. At one time a maid passed by. She stopped to think about what supper would be best to lay on the table, albietvery few would come to eat it because they were too full of worry to dine. "I will do as you suggest," she murmured, taking his advice while struggling to retain her focus on the now, "my constitution for the relinquishing, addition of, and all together abstinence of things is askew. It will ahe to be made right...for what is to come. There is word from Italy, the Germanic states, even the kingdoms of Portugal and Spain. It is drawing all for they are curious of the power in the sea where once there was uncivilized folk here about, or so the mind conjured...." Larger, and larger still? Her pen had written to fastidious ally, ally had even translated to sharing with enemy to draw him out into the public eye. They would come to dance with one another, drink wine and end rancor. To take, be taken. See and be seen. Those that knew what the Angel was, as she'd been called, sought one feather from her wngs. She nodded, leading them to the salon at last, and to the chair she helped to place him. "Here, it is notunknown for the thought of this to do that to me, as well.:" Weakness was revealed as she took the chair beside his own, instead of across, all but doubling forward in order to lower back. "Peregrine has proven himself thrice o'er,be it the rush of the dark work or that it is a cause he believes in, I think it is both. The theater has been made ready, and altered. The ballroom, the illusions, the opulance.....the reason for it is.." She sighed, putting her head back against the chair. Words fell short to express the self-sickness and guilt she felt for allowing it to be, and the anger that not only could it not be prevented..there was so much at risk. So many lives. An innocence (d)

jean-Claude: He was happy to be seated, left there feeling himself pitiful for not being able to seat her, but he too would sit up once she did..He held in the offer to see to her back, pressed one hand to rub at his eyes to keep this thoughts together, and sigh. "Peregrine, is a fool. You trust him so easy, but know not the change in him. He is no longer a risk taker. He is so badly in love with Rosalind it is a shame. Such a brilliant twisted mind completely devoured byher. He would not protect The Lady Viscreed as he should, if it came down to his life or hers..he would let her fall. Pere' was on mends, wishing to be a good man, and this pleases me because it means so too can I have peace. I look forward to my time here, and Janice did the unthinkable.." His hand fell to his chest as let his head fall back in the chair, closing his eyes. For a moment he let himself remain silent, living in the moment gathering his thoughts and forcing himself to get back on track. "From Italy you say?" He slowly exhaled, "Many great wealths there..My father always had business there, with the church. I pray they do not get involved." He was secretly very angry at the pirate, or for the whole order at the matter; on personal level now was his affection of Janice. Though he was not willing to admit it just yet, but the blank open stare into the fire could give well enough away. "Tell me of your plans. I know there must be many. I have heard it from Miss Viscreed, but let it be from your voice." (d

Claramae: "No, it isn't trust in the change of his person, only an understanding of what it is to be both. In this work, he may indulge devil but emerge a hero, an angel who's righteous deeds will be adored by his God, no matter how bloody. A belief in something, anything, that gives you true purpose. Janice sought to control what for a time, for her, and still may be very uncontrollable. You can not change where you came from, only do more with what you have. What you create." She pulled the bell so that there would a service brought to them of wine and food. Useless little pleasentries but the offer was genuine. "The church has been involved for years, in some degree or another. They too have their own public and private forms an order. It is them who thought to harness Gottschalk's madness, to use on behalf of the church. I expect there to be the more corrupt among the cardinal, bishops,and laymen. True evil wears many faces." She gripped hard on the edge of the chair as her eyes looked at the highest flicker of the flame before it collapsed down over a wood-cliff gone to ash. "As many enemies as can be taken out.. will be, throughout the evening, so that we might deal with a thinned line of the main for the auction. During the auction, we will know whom seeks a virgin, and whom seeks a masterwork reader. We will know whom has the money and the insanity to raise Leviathin, the call to emass the largest contingent of a private army ever seen. We are prevent not only an end game, but the eradication of every allied house, of every ...thing..we know. It is Europe they would take with that army. To be the Grandmaster of everything. Some thought it only a legend or a story to impress noviates. By the time of the auction, I shall be in a place where upon to maneuver, if need be for a direct killing if necessary. Janice is armed and naturally quick and evasive..but..the objective is to even prevent the chance of her being alone during the night, with any of them, especially after. And it is to prevent any from pairing with Alderman or Krause. If not the hositility and open anomicity would be detrimental. Worse yet, if we do not succeed, Janice will be left alone, and forced to kill her winner. She says she is prepared to do this but God help me it is wrong. It is wrong, she should not have to kill a soul nor worry for her life. This whole affair is at sixes and sevens. But it is too late now. There is no loss. If there is.. and there is no other way...master voltaire will follow Miss Viscreed instead of myself. We will cover all of our apprentices..and our backs wil be open." If worse came to worse, preserve the life of all others save the two for whom this all was the fault of, no? "When we were not much older than Janice, Venice was a dream despite what we were there to do. Gottschalk had forsaken the King's service, and become a murderer. I later learned my master there, our master, knowing he would die. Were this to have arisen out of it...I would have rathered Sorschal allowed Gottschalk to finish the job on myself too." (d)

Jean-Claude: Quiet while he listened he kept gaze with the fire, imagining the night over and over in his head willing to die just the same. He would be her shadow. Jean listened to her words as if she read from the bible, and it was very rare for him to make such a reference, but there was a dire need to know. "And when this is over, I shall send her to any school she wishes, on any country." He would not refuse the wine, but simply was listless. "Any word from the Lord? Shall he send us his guard?" So many stories of past memories faded in and out of his mind, from both Janice and Claramae. It was a troubled time, but the war had just begun he feared. "She shall be armed." He spoke again from his silence, "I have worked both night and day to conceal her weapons."

Peregrine:The secret chamber would fall back slowly creeping forward with little effort, and his sound of triumph could not be mistaken. The Cheshire Cat came to grin as his dirt stained face was proof he had been all through the hall. Like achild he explored, as she had given him a map, and on the other end a treasure. "Ladies. Ladies." He mused, brushing away the cob webs from his hair, giving the golden strands a good tousle to make them appear even more a mess. Such ocean colored hues held deep danger, as he narrowed them on the pair who by now were ready and armed. You did not sneak up on Madame Death. "You had all the fun without me!" He frowned crossing the space between them and grinning at Jean whose feathers were clearly ruffled, "Relax old man. It's only me." He took the man's chin into his hand, finally able to look down upon his friend in good light, and lifted Jean's face. "You rest?" Inspecting the bruise like aconcerned parent he tilted the smooth line of sculpture to better survey the mark. Jean's hand quickly came to swat away the pirate, who turned his sights on Claramae. The wildman brought with him the very air of deep woods, rich tended soil, and the sea. His was the body that was never cold, warm to the touch, bronze from his life at sea. "Heard you got banged up too..but Danae?" He grinned then, the whole effect a marvel against his face. "She got her butthanded to her huh?" He took a seat on the foot rest helping himself to the service. "First time any man has had her on her knees. Gonna be one hell of a fight hmm?" His voice disappeared over the rim of the wine glass.

Jean-Claude: "Peregrine.." Jean-Claude simply did not wish to be touched, nor frankly embarrassed as this pirate simply always was. "I did rest yes. More then an hour." His dark eyes would look the pirate over, and not once raise a question to the note hanging out of his pocket, but his curiosity was peaked...he knew that parchment. (d

Claramae: "God grant us prayer that she go. " The benefit of an education where the walls were not rising, where no one would restrict her so that inside of her books she might find the true answer to any question she could ask. Oh, a thought that actually brought the flicker of a smile to her face - until that was - her very own walls began to click with footfall before a person reached the outer panel. The noviates and servants were relegated to select passages, with only masters given unto others. She had only given Peregrine places of note, but apparently he favored tripping about in spider-web recesses to hunt out his place in hall infamy. Tilting her head, she had already taken hold of one of her thin daggers when Peregrine presented a show. Tonight's edition? The Alderman Review! He could have smelled of salt but he stunk of duct water, too. The woods were given the musk of dust. "Don't wander where you shouldn't. The map given you was for implicit reason, otherwise you will be likely shot, axed, diced, a dart shot at you, or you'll drown in the underground lake. This is an Order House, not a round-about adventure. God spare us" She all but hissed when her tone was the utmost congenial. His laxed, all too foppish description of that day made it hard to settle the dagger back where it had been. "The Lady Ranger had her leg crushed while she was restricted to the floor. Have a care how you mention events you impertinent jackass. " Jack-ass?! Oh dear God. Oh, oh dear lord in heaven....she swore, and audibly! He sat on her footrest, so her feet would just remain upon it regardless, though his casual indifference to how he sat was sorely testing her ankle. "AND KINDLY take a chair...you..are hurting my ankles." (d)

Jean-Claude: A small smirk was hidden behind the leather of his glove, and the white of the lace. It was a rare sight, but there was even a hint of a small laugh. Peregrine's face was priceless. Though quickly recovered the pirate would only have a small moment of silence.

Peregrine: He would wince listening to Claramae reprimand him about Danae. He did stand to take a seat, but would pull the small wad of papers, notes of bids. "We have many starting their bid." Profit gain of course, all he cared about. "It seems little Janice has made a name for herself. What kind of scoundrel would write such lies about her to lure big fish in. Did you see the likeness to her smile in the illustration?" Yes that's right, he has had posted flyers all over the nation. Passing Jean-Claude a note, he would watch with cat like calmness as the older man read, and nearly stood from the chair. "Can you believe that offer?" He smirked, content and happy this fat cat atop his kill.

Jean-Claude: "10,000?" Jean was white again, but the color was quick to rush back. "Saperlipopette! Marquis? Jeunesse dorée, he calls her. It has been published in article all over Paris, Madame.." He would pass her the parchment where a letter was attached addressed to nearly every wealth in France. "It is not worth as much here, but he tries to woo her with an offer." He would turn death's eyes to the pirate, "You did not except did you?"

Peregrine: Peregrine would lean back simply glowing with the gamble, "No, I didn't. They have to come here and work for it. Go up against the rest, but let me tell you both this now. I'm going to have very unhappy clients, and a few names I have heard on the street will stop at nothing. So if you wish her innocence to stay in tact I better still get the pay off, and you better hire more guns." (d

Peregrine: "Oh..and call me a Jackass again. It's sexy when you sound so dirty." (d

Claramae: She rose a brow at him with instructions from her silence to contain some manner of his garish behavior. While one subject ended, another returned Just how high was the daughter of Vittergaust on the pillar? To listen further brought her standing to her feet as if a fire were lit under them. The spark was a number as exorbant that she had not even. "10,000?! This drives the base bid into a number beyond 11, or even the 12th figure!" She looked at theletter. "An article, an article?! This is not supposed to be in an article! We draw enough attention with private invitations must it have been some horror on the presses, her face, on a flyer? Masters, this will raise it beyond what even we ourselves have contacted. Milan, Venice, Florence, Sicily, Paris, the Bordeaux and now we shall have more than that, and more than that..." She was swimming, indeed, she swooned and was held up by the mantle. While he sat lapping at the rich cream of the spoiled lot whom paid him to no doubt promise Janice in their beds, while there would be many delightful beauties for a night of pleasure it was the girl they all sought. "We shall have to make due. It is beyond our means and we will have to make do. Oh, and Master Peregrine? We make due with your kinsmen's armed men if his lordship will give them!" Griffin men? White Talons? "You have spiraled this beyond its necessary proportions. With that in mind, if one scratch falls upon our girl, one..one? I will scratch you ten times!" Jean-Claude was right. He indulged his dark side too much but behind it all did he care? Somehow, there was knowledge he did. "Now we will need to pull forth our kept back students. Our personal best, for your protection. For you both. Do not say it is not needed because now, more than ever it is. Did you think when you published articles you childish fool, playing a toy, that it hangs your family in danger as well? You are simple if you believe being the over-lord over darkened brick and stone mortar makes you impenitrable. Wake up, and look hard. You will need to work that much further. No more contacts. No more we have enough, we will have our men, and you may have contacts involved in things you can not imagine..which means they are destined to die. How are we to tell you of the plot, toinform you, when we can not one find you and two you play games upon the games already played?" Scolding a child whom cared not! An adolescent who'd only shrug? She was positively dizzy with anger, in fact her throat began to glisten with sweat. Pinkish, again. "The world in which you are now in is beyond your piracy, your gypsies, and your half bit thieves. And you are in so deep you've taken your wife and daughter, her son with you. Oh rest assured. I have no intention of seeing anymore die, and they will have additional services. Some of the maiden order sorschal and I were apart of have come through, Jean'-Claude.There will be some extra resources, while we wait. I need to take the air. Do something with this idiot. Now I must think of someone to put above him while he perches on a roof. WE are one, in this house. Sir. You learn that.It is too late for you not to. And you have no choice." She could have killed him! He had done his job and polluted it for his own gain. Janice's belief in him was turned into his capital empire where he dallied her out to see what would happen. Was he happy now? Did Rosalind look goo don that string too? As she walked a blood line began to soak the back of her dress, unseen as she went to stand outside (d)

Peregrine: He half listened to her, as normal hearing her bark at him like some little dog perched on a Queen's lap, but the moment his wife was mentioned his attention turned. Listening to her, he felt the heat in the room pull away the air,drawing it from their lungs, and taking it from their chest. He stood his hand so tight around the glass it would have broke had he not tossed it into the fire first. The burst of the flames was enough to flash long tall shadows on the back wall, his own easily mistaken to have horns. "WHEN did Rosalind get pulled into this." He hissed, the very sound of satan rising, clawing at his rib cage. He was wild, his eyes, his hair--more madness then could be imagined. "You threaten my family?" He narrowed his eyes, coming face to face with her. "I NEVER asked for this. I never asked to be part of this Order, or carry your stupid torch. You point your pretty little fingers so easy, Claramae, but look around you. How much of this could have been prevented had you been honest with her to begin with? Huh? Sitting in your chair like you are some Queen." He snorted. "Telling me how much of a fool I am. YOU tell me how I gotmyself into this? It wasn't me who threw my name out for this man to search...." He took a step back, crossing his arms over his chest, "So you are telling me, that now because Janice came and asked me to help her, My wife and child are in danger?" Putting his arms on either side of her chair he came to her level, had many ever done that? "You can forget it. I'd rather watch you all suffer and die long before my newborn daughter is given a chance to even make it through her first birthday. No..Madame Death," His voice came to a harsh whisper, "I've got a gunship waiting in that harbor, and a thirst for blood like you wouldn't believe. Don't piss me off, by accusing me of going too far or not caring. Let her go ask anyone else in the Underdark..they would have carried you her heart in a box long before this ceremony." He pushed from the chair circling about the room, "Beat her, raped her, and sent her back in bits."

Jean-Claude: "Stop it."

Peregrine: "It's the truth! You know it is. SHE came to ME, fools. Because she was acting out of loyalty to this God Damn Order!" He was shaking, when it came to Rosalind that simply crossed the line. She had seen so much suffering, so much pain, and even now tucked away in their forest he wondered if she was safe. He grew quiet, taking a deep breath, and sighing. "I've got to get them somewhere safe." He finally whispered. "She's going to be so upset." He finally sankwith his back to them, pulling his knees up to his chest to think. (d

Claramae: "The MOMENT she swore to uphold the the station on behalf of God and crown, that is when, and she came of choice. Having naught to do with this affair however, until YOU became a child who spent too long on his own with no efficientsupervision. You stand to be educated." She hedl her own despite her prevention of going outside. She hold her own, despite a racing pulse. Anger mixed with fear , not of him, but his proximity. Of the closeness..of the... shortening of space. By the time he pushed from the chair she breathed audible relief. Classic compsure returned despite the fact she was sweating pink from the pores at her pretty throat. Christ sparkled with the sweat pooled between her breasts. "Janice came to you because in her naieve reckoning, you were one who could help you, and she believes you are. She believes in you because of your affiliation to Sorschal. It doesn't matter you didn't tell her no, that is beside the point. Master, yes, Master Inveryne is a pair of court eyes. She believes in where she resides, and seeks to protect it. Just as she would you. This is why we have strived to tell her no details of this, nor some other affiliates given their circumstance. People have already died, to spare your lives. If you think you are unguarded you are wrong. You became guarded the moment Sorschal struck a bond with you, for better or worse. What is done...is..done. All that matters now is to finish it. Do not move them, you will attract attention to them and yourself. No Peregrine, you did not ask. You and Sorschal waltzed together like idiots drunk at a happen to others. You are fortunate. It is us they want anyhow. They took Michael for months..and broke him for more. Sorschal is drugged. Carlotta butchered. Nairne. Countless others who for better or worse share a belief in you as you do, for better or worse, now rely on us. You have done your work, it is what you were asked to and you did it. All that is left now is to finish what was begun. If you wish not to continue, merely keep your silence until the end." Despite how much she disdained him, how much he had made a small thing larger, they all had played a part in spiraling it up to the point be it by fascination or a years ago belief in taking down the evil by being better than it. By trying to hide what was hidden, release it only to hide it. "My sins in this are also heir apparent. We should have killed them months ago..harder, faster." At that moment Voltaire came in to relay the news of the evening's progress. Unknowing himself of what had occurred, he would seek her attenion by putting his hand against her back. She went so rigid, her mouth in a silent scream...and his hand was moist with red.."Madame....Clare...." He took hold of her, intent to view the damage and she struggled against him. Compsure dissolved again to his surprise "Claramae, what happened? Claramae...listen to me!. " Even the best have their holes. The dress was so thin it was easily shifted to reveal even he top of her back, which was bleeding. "Alder..." She whispered, before she stopped struggling..and began to slip against him..her arms loosely around him, bleeding. (d)

Jean-Claude: He had enough of this, but before he could raise his hand to stop them his eyes darted to Claramae. The mask was pulled on of Dr/Healer/Scientist, and friend. He moved from the chair quickly to close the distance between them. "Madame.." He called forcing open her eyes to check for signs of drug. Yellow. Dilated. No sign of response. Blood? From her back? He watched the man pull away his hand and gasped, "Get her to a bed!" Peregrine his eyes wide as he stood ready to help in anyway. "Get that dress off of her. Peregrine in the carriage." The pirate would nod racing out the door this time, moving past the guards with ease. "Compress that!" He barked at one of umped from the floor his eyes wide as he stood ready to help in anyway. "Get that dress off of her. Peregrine in the carriage." The pirate would nod racing out the door this time, moving past the guards with ease. "Compress that!" He barked at one of aid's that had come, and pulled the sheet from her hand, "Something clean!" Idiots. (d

Voltaire "Do not look simple right now, you idiot! This home is made ready for this so you make sure he has all he needs! Unlock the master's laboratories, go, go fetch the man one of the physicians, one of the poison craft students as we Go, go for godsakes go or the Madame's death will be on YOUR head!" The girl scoffed, her sister had told her of all of the things herein but she hardly believed! "Yes sir! Should I find master Vance sir?" "Yes, find Vance, and you!" he said to one of the guard heading out to his time on the watch ,"Have a flank to Jean-Claude's carriage. Nothing befalls Peregrine, GO" He had seen her in fits, in sorrows, in silent depressions. he had seen her perfect and less than. This was beyond him! When did this happen?! " I have not seen her since the night before last. Alder. Does she mean the Alderman, have you both seen the Alderman?" The man asked Jean who was as fast as he was. They went to her room, throwing back the bed curtains. He layed her down, and began to tear apart the dress ties. (d)

jean-Claude: "Hot water," Always did you send the monkey's to get hot water. While she was being tended to he pulled away his overcoat, and start to roll back his sleeves. Beneath the frill was a sight none had seen, red pinkish lines of burns went all the way to his elbows as if he had dipped his arms in boiling water. The flesh in parts was smooth while the other rough, raised, and almost like scales. Many eyes would widen as when he withdrew his gloves skin was pulled so tightly over bones that it appeared his knuckles would break free in any moment, there was nothing left. He would quickly go to wash, learning first hand infection started from him, not her. Pere would race back the bag there andalready pulling out a small bottle in Ada's hand writing, "Two Peregrine. Only two." The small compact would pop two small rounds of white pearls. A mixture that he would place on Claramae's tongue, and cause Pere to stand by the bed waiting with a bedpan, for she was about to get very sick. "It detoxify's the body. She will suffer withdrawal. Part of the reason I fear." He let touched nothing but let the water trail down his forearm as he held his hands high. It was then he noticed one of the maid's open eyes staring, "Do not be alarmed, Ma Amie, they are only scars." And this was how he earned them. When she would start to get sick he was thankful for Peregrine then coaxing her, even if was not awake he still spoke gently to her and brushed her hair from her face. How quickly he changed, "No.." A sudden realization hit him.."Do not stop press.. let her bleed. Get it out." He took a good look at her now exposed back and thought to himself of all the monstrous things to do, why this? There had to be a reason. (d

Voltaire: "Quickly! Go, go!" He switched, without thought, to one of the 'languages of business' among the members. How fortunate Jean-Claude spoke French, while he carried on Italian to the natives of the same within the room . Hot water, towels, whatever the man would require. Whom was allowed to serve in her chambers when it was not and whom, by God, was not. The maids crossed themselves to see the burn scarred arms working wonders on a carved up back. Some pressed hands to pale peach cheeks in horror, scurrying away. More instruction came, now in English. Once within Italian, one could hear how his accent grew thick with his mother tongue "Sorschal, Vance. They are the only one besides to know. You must presume the household, Miss Lola, in the stead of Carlotta or Bromheilde for the time being. You tell them now is not the time to be released from our employ. No talk of their conditions. None. You will continue work too on the attire of the master's for the ball. Should you require help I will tell you what to put on it. Go now." It gave people order to be regular, to be bussied. A soft peregrine caressed Claramae's face, her hair? He arched a brow but said nothing. The Master would wrech into the bedside pain, her eyes clenching, her breath rasping. She'd wrench again, before crying out. Clutching at the pillow for she was on her stomach..the tenderest touch to the back evoked pitiful cries. Or was it detoxing from the drugs, as she had done unto so many who'd arrived needed to be repaired by her hands? Now she was in jean-claude's, for all roles reverse at some time. She muttered incoherently, praying between times. She called for her husband, and Voltaire signed. Another maid was sent off with this task "The Commander, find the Commander. This happened while he was on deployment....and if you should...find Vizharen.." "S..sir...Lord Vizharen....He's....sir!" "Do as you are bidden! " "Sir.." The protest was sharply admonished, but he didn't blame the girl for her fear. Percival was known to be twisted, as anyin this room. (d)

Jean-Claude: "No..Do not bring forth everyone you can think of. Please..empty this room." Jean-Claude was protecting her sanity, for she was like he and would have rather died then been so weak before those that mattered. "Peregrine..you too. Go branches, "Caused by Henbane." He spoke to one of the eager eyed students. "It is more commonly known as stinking nightshade, but it will outline the wound with a white clear puss." He would point out squeezing around the area until it was forced forward, but he worried when it did not. She was in very deep, and in for a dark horrible ride if even she survived. "Continue to pour water over the area here and here. Let it wash away, but do not let the blood dry." He would scrape the edge of one his sterile knives over the surface of the entire tree until the whole thing turned bright red and bled. "Now..Let us pray." For a man who was punished for being one of the devil's heretics, Jean-Claude was a deeply devoted man of his faith. When his prayer was finished he turned to the one who so perfectly commanded the room, "Find the Healing Horse. Let a trained Master of her trade be here." (d

Voltaire: "Henbane...chyt." Voltaire was brash in ettiquette with little care as he knelt by the side of his Madame, his friend, of some nearly ten years that no one could account for but them. After the absence of Sorschal it had been him, Bromheilde, and Larkin. Larkin had since died in his fit of betrayal, and he wondered if nothing had changed would they have stayed the same. To be so open - at what cost? "It has been done over time. Why must you have been so silent, mia fiore dolce?" Were that he could have lay on his back in the throws of this agony. Now he called for the Physician herself? A groan he uttered, as another outsider would be given privy place, but what could be done? If her hand could hold them together in short enough time, who was he to deny the Order hands gifted to heal? Maybe they could repay her in services - gift her with things she did not have even in her beloved Infirmary. Access to herbs, poisons, antidotes, tools, vials of the finest glass. Maybe they could patron her house of life if this woman could save the house of Death


"Send for the Physician. Tell her she is sworn to secrecy on all she shall see and hear." (d)

[Peregrine Inveryne-Lamont]

Peregrine Rogue: In the all the glory of the day it held no warmth. The looming threat of the dawning eve was enough to cast away any fear. In the secrets of the city, he worked long hours on the hidden theatre to bring some life back on to the old stage. Fresh paint of pure gold to the rails, red along the walls, and a deep distressed black over the background to create shadows
hidden well by the lights. The fires of the lanterns were blazing warming the
room like the sun. Itcaused moisture to rise and glisten across his bare chest
that was already sparkling..do to the paint of course. Peregrine couldn't do
anything without making a mess, or so it seemed. Hell he even had gold paint
in his hair.."M'lord...You wanted me to remind you of the hour.." "I'm not
going home." "You..you had not intended to go home, Sir." "Oh.." The pirate
would turn the brush down taking a step back to look at his progress. (d

Rosalind Avalle: This was not a place the Lady Inveryne went, or so it would
seem, looking at her in the carriage, Apollonia snuggled deep into blankets,
her light hair covered by a thick knit cap. Appearances were the rules of
the game in Rosalind's world, even if the reality was often dramatically different. She
did not seem the pirate's wife; however such a woman should look, one's first
idea was generally not Rosalind. Perpetually placid face, save the carefully
crafted shifting of features and the courtier's smile for all those who were
not related to her, and an awkward gait that seemed unlikely from a pampered
lady. Which she was not -- few women of nobility in Scotland ever were that.
Drafty castles, work to be done, and generally hard lives in hard conditions gave
Rosalind more spiteful glances than sympathetic; she had been blessed in not
showing her history written clearly on her body, as they did. But in the
Underdark, everyone knew her, or at least, of her. They knew of Apollonia, and when she descended the stairs down into her husband's world, they shuffled out of
their way, doffing caps. If they were not polite and courteous, they at
least did not harrass her. An outsider to the Underdark would find this behavior
utterly bizarre. What hour was it here? It was impossible to tell, though
it must still be daylight, as Polly was sleeping comfortably in her mother's
arm, supported by a sling so that her other hand remained on the curved head of her cane. She came upon him with a slight cough, and when he turned, amusement flickered in her hazel eyes. "My husband, the Adonis, sculpted in bronze. Non, gold," she corrected. *

Peregrine Rogue: Silence fell over the room as eyes long lost to the world
above caught sight of the cripple Queen, with their Princess asleep in her
arms. She held enough power in the palm of her hand, then they with all their
swords blazing in the fire lights, and even the great golden chandelier would
feel left behind; alone hanging there by a thread. The backdrop was
brilliant, a bed of roses with blood red paint falling down from each white
petal. It was to symbolize the taking of purity, as a young golden haired maiden sat naked
on her flower. A vulgar sight, that scouring of innocence but the passion in
her eyes could tell countless stories that no matter how the body felt
betrayed, her heart was willing. Had she known such a well kept secret of her
husband? The maestro would still the sounds of the practicing strings, the
long winded instruments a moan to season the feeling--his craft perfected.
All were masters of their trade pulling together all the finely tuned rolls, and
gaining one more night of hope that tomorrow a large payoff was in hand.
Blood would be spilt of virgins and lives, and for this the people of the
Underdark lived! "Your husband is very real, his heart beats in his chest. Unlike a
statue." Peregrine went back to his work, without so much as a smile moving
on with the painting. "He's tired, hasn't eatin, and isn't in any mood to see
you." Ocean colored eyes turned to the music man who quickly began again from the
beginning. The marble floors were cracked in many places as if the theatre
had been pulled down, sucked into the darkness of the underground; perhaps
even somewhere it had been flipped. (d

Rosalind Avalle: "Not in a mood to see me." She said it flatly, not in the
petulant tones of a younger woman, but the unamused repetition of something
he said that she found strangely out of character of him. Rosalind was oddly
at ease with whatever Pere did, with a few boundaries that she tried not to
think about, and had no need to cling to him. Yet he had always stopped
mid-chore whenever she appeared, ready to take a break and spend some time
with her. "Must I poke you with a stick to get the answer, or will a blunt,
'Why?' satisfy the social requirement." She made the last step, and
took a few strides forward, standing unobtrusively to the
side to see the work on the theater. Despite the cracked floor, the place
held a uniquely dark charm about it that reminded her more of Jean-Claude
than Peregrine. But if anything, she had learned not to underestimate the man. Apollonia's
nursemaid finally caught up to her, and Rosalind, sensing an adult
conversation that need not concern Polly, handed over an additional bag of
coin to the woman, with instructions to find some place warm. Polly didn't even crack her eyes
as she shifted from one warm body to another, and Rosalind removed the sling
from around her neck for the nursemaid to take. Rosalind formed the fingers
of her hand back over the curve of her cane's head. She wasn't going
anywhere. *

Peregrine Rogue: He turned only as soon as the hands of his wife left that
of his daughter, and a deep longing filled his own. "Wait." He called to the
nurse maid who looked up at the advancing pirate who could rival any statue
in master craft. He was all upper body, with shoulders that pulled sails--his
arms his freedom. Hope filled him Rosalind did not protest at the fabric of
Polly's gown being ruined, but he wanted to hold her. Taking her from the
maid if only for a moment he curled the child under his chin to embrace her gently. A
language not known to the ears of any left him as he smiled living in the
moment of the smell of her innocence. A drunken fool who hung the lights
would laugh, call out as the pirate passed her off once again. All were in
admiration of the child, but this man of course let ale blind him. "Someday
we'll be seein' yur girl prance this stage aye captain? Fetch a high price!"
The man went back to his work, but his life ended shortly after with a dagger pinning
his neck, and he fell like a bird from a branch onto the benches below. "GET
OUT!" All eyes were on him, wide and in shock as he ordered them out, and
soon all melted into the shadow that had once been their birth. "Take her to the
surface, to the castle. Get her out of here." This was not her husband. "Take
that body, have him skinned, and hung up at the gates." Humiliation even in
the afterlife, his bones would be stripped, the muscle and skin peeled away
like an apple leaving behind only the core. A hiss escaped when he turned
again to his wife, squaring away with her. "I want you out of this city, by
night fall." Or else. (d

Rosalind Avalle: Was it a lifetime among the Scots or something deep in the
bone, that Rosalind did not so much as flinch when the man died? She did not
even look askance as he commanded the disposal of teh body. Rosalind would
maim or blind a man who had so much as set up a toll or stole a cow from a
neighbor. Justice was harsh, but always fair. She would have been far
harsher, after hearing the man's words about Apollonia, and knowing what was
to happen at the masque. Janice was someone's child. She doubted that just because
those parents no longer lived, she had no one to protect her as a parent
would. Though who would put her in this situation? Upon that bed? The only
sign of unease came in drawing her left hand over her right on the top of the
cane. "I had no plans to be within the city by nightfall. I wanted to see
it. For myself." Pray God Janice would not remember the dark opulence of
this room, that it would blur into memories, some details specific, but
unimportant, belonging to another life. She wished she could keep Polly nearby, but the nursemaid
was uncomfortable in the Underdark, for good reason, and the Lamont men were
standing at the top of the stairs, waiting to escort them both to their next
destination. Polly left, and Rosalind's eyes stayed on the back of the
nursemaid until she was gone. *

Peregrine Rogue: His arms crossed over his chest feeling the chill of the
air bite at his skin, he moved a bit closer to the flames that lit the stage.
"You've been here before. You've been in that hall before. You are part of
that order, Rosalind. You teach?" He caught her eye, "I found that out by a
guard? I heard it from Claramae?" He walked around the edge of the stage,
until he stood across from her. "They swore you to secrecy, I get it. They
have fancy little tricks, smoke and mirrors." He held up his hands to act surprised,
wiggling his fingers, and making a face. "Here I was afraid of upsetting you!
And come to find out you are part of it! Imagine my surprise to learn you
hold vital information that could have helped me a long time ago." His
hands came to his hips as he laughed, planting firmly like some boy from
Neverland, "Imagine my surprise." It was clear he had been rubbed in the
wrong, a cat with his hair standing on end. "So..you know of the man who nearly killed
Claramae? Brought Danae to her knees, and had Jean-Claude covered in blood?
Yeah, he made threats about you. He knows where we live, knows our daughter's
name." He kicked the brush across the stage, the paint nearly gone from the
bristles. "What now??" (d

Rosalind Avalle: "She was meant to be instructed in the arts of the court," Rosalind said shortly, having no patience for dramatics. She was a
reasonable, rational woman capable of handling her own affairs. And she was many things, but naive she was not. "Who better but I to do it." She eyed him. "Did you not wonder why I arrived at the Cat's Eye with such perfect timing the night you were parading her about?" She frowned briefly. She disliked fighting with
him. It always ended badly. But there was another part of her life she had kept from him; not deliberately, as that would have implied he'd asked about it, and he never had reason to doubt. Now he did. She could see it flickering in his face as he lost his temper, and damnably, she thought how
easy it was to keep Janice from having such a glass face when lying. "I was involved peripherally," she said, her tone softening, but far from apologetic. "A friend, more than a mentor; it was what she needed. I took on the risk, I did -- but nearly a year ago, Pere. There was no Polly to consider. I did not know what would become of us. Aldric needs his mother, but it is a waste to many more children if I did not take that risk. Now it has all fallen apart." The dead were piling up. The Order was failing. None had seen or heard from Sorschal, Claramae was inaccessible to Rosalind, and Rosalind herself had not considered the order in months, save the evening she arrived at the Cat's Eye to find Pere orchestrating an auction. What had happened with Danae, Jean-Claude, and Master St. Laurence was news to Rosalind, though, and perhaps merely being involved on the periphery was no salvation. *

Peregrine Rogue: "You didn't think it wise to tell me then? That I was playing with fire?" He hated fighting with her, as he was not one of the men who lived in moments to see his wife bow at his feet, but never had he felt such inner turmoil before towards her. "Rosalind..you've got to stay away. You can't be here. Knowing your connection..it's clouded things." He closed his eyes trying to shake away the ultimate fear, and anger. "You fog things up, always have. I can't think clearly, and I can't mess this up." He held too much in this life, and it dangled over the fates by a thin golden string. "Everything changed last night, and I'd burn them all down if it meant to save you. I'm a selfish man, Rosalind, but God Damn it, I've waited so long for you. To love someone like I do you. You should have told me." He was truly very angry at this, with little reason to be so harsh--he had secrets too. "I don't even want to look at you right now." Though he couldn't take his eyes off her. Finally he closed his eyes, knowing full well it wouldn't help. He had been thrown off the end, the event so clear in his mind he didn't know how it would end now, he couldn't see it. The balance had been shifted. Crossing his arms back over his chest he turned to look over the open space that would act as the dance floor come the next few nights. "I'll have them all in one room, and do this city a favor. They hurt everyone. You should see Jean-Claude, he can barely walk. He doesn't need this..Claramae. Danae asks for it, but did Janice?" Looking back at her, "You would know..you taught her." God his poor pregnant wife then, was harboring a secret like this. "Why didn't you stop me?" (d

Rosalind Avalle "It is hard to say no to her," Rosalind said simply, and would have left it at that, if it wasn't Peregrine. "Innocence is something no right courtier still possess when he or she comes to play. There is always a hint of subversion, an odor of deceit. She does not have that, and never will. It reminded me of ... myself. I'd do anything to see she comes through this alive; better, that she still loves herself when it is all said and done. You can do that for her."Janice was insistent on doing this, then there was no stopping her. She would not be locked up in a tower -- the minx would find a way out. Or she would do it on her own, and Rosalind shuddered to think of what that might turn out like. She shook her head at the thoughts, just once, firmly. "This is how it has to be, though I wish it were not. There was no reason to say anything, Peregrine. I joined because it was in service to Skye, which has done much for me. That my knowledge of Scottish clan alliances and French politics could be of use to someone -- this is important to me. It became something different with Janice, and I was warned I may do horrible things in the name of the Order, but I know my way home." She blinked slowly, drawing her eyes upon him. "I did not see things as they happened. Had I known otherwise, I would have told you." Rosalind was not a stupid woman, but it pained her to admit she might be, just this once. But nothing was ever delivered whole in the Order; it came by pieces, and she did not have enough to assemble any meaningful picture. "There is nowhere for us to go," Rosalind said with her usual stark pragmatism. They would find the chateau, Inveryne, even her old suite in the castle. Sorschal had promised protection, but how many bled and died this month alone? *

Peregrine Rogue His hands came to brush the painting as he inspected it, going over the railing and every little detail finding his mind leaving the space that held it. No his thoughts were elsewhere, even with his wife standing just where she was, "I should drag you away by the hairs of your head and lock you in a tower..." He smirked looking over his shoulder at her darkly, "Rapunzel." How long had it been since he had last called her that? This little widow who was still in mourning of a husband lost, and keeping the world away with her wimple alone. Her reasons went on deaf ears as he scoffed, "Your service to Skye? The same Skye that let you get beat? Your husband sat by the General, he had dinner with the Duchess, and what did they do for you? You've paid your dues to this place Rosalind. Don't you think it's time for peace? Don't you want to live and see Polly grow up? Aldric? Think he's survive in this world without you?" The painful part was yes, but he didn't want to think that way. Holding up his hands he would still her protest, "I can't force you to do anything, or control you. You stay in that order, and I'll stay home and live my life with our children. You wanna run this place? By all means, one of us has to survive, for them." One of the most grown up things Peregrine had ever said. "I'm lost with the whole thing." He finally gave in, "Everything changed when they spoke of you. I don't care anymore. If I could I'd shut the whole thing down." (d

Rosalind Avalle "Put me in the tower with Janice. I will be certain she will not make an escape." It was a badly timed joke, and a bad one, at that. But she was just as lost as he was. She'd had time to reason what this risk meant to her. It had changed, since then, and so quickly after such a long period of silence. "I do not know what else to do. I think this is the right course. I think there is yet a place where we can go, to be safe. Where it is, I do not know yet."


Rosalind Avalle: She ran a hand across her face, the first sign of exhaustion with this entire ordeal. "I did not know about Polly then. Aldric...." She pressed her lips into a thin line. Rationalizing it the
first time had been hard enough. Doing so again, before Pere, would undo her. "I was her mentor, Pere. Nothing more. No more serious than taking one a new girl in the court. I did not know who she was for several months after instruction. Should I have stopped then?" The way Janice soaked up knowledge like a sponge, and how much the girl reminded Rosalind of herself -- of what she might have been, had she not been married off so young. Younger than Janice was now, sold at a different sort of auction, but nonetheless sold. "As for what Skye owes me, it cannot be blamed for Fearghus. I lied to Bess. I told her I was unwed, in mourning for Domhnall. I fooled the world -- and you, for a while -- into believing I had no child. What disaster befell me was a risk I took. I should have trusted Bess. I should have expected Fearghus to be a monster. But I did not, and -- " She held up a hand, too, also stopping herself from going further. Then she raised her head, squared her shoulders, and stuck her chin out a fraction of an inch. "I am finished with this. I cannot help Janice as you can. Tell me where to go, Pere. And I will go there tonight. Our children will be safe." She looked every inch the courtier, but appearances were deceiving. She sounded like her usual stern self, but there was vulnerability in her voice. An apology to him that, for now, she couldn't say. But he would hear it, when they spoke again. *

Peregrine Rogue He put his hands behind his neck stretching his arms to clear his mind as he thought, Claramae was right moving them would only draw attention, but where? "Suddenly I wish Colban were here." Wasn't that sad? Never had he thought for the day he would wish her former lover at their door. "I hardly know. This entire Order is falling apart, but they are so concerned about their damn secrets." He ran a hand then through his hair, and swung his other arm back to relax again. "I'm so tired of it all." He truly was, "I should have said no. I should have told her to find someone else to whore her out." His head was pounding from the fumes of the paint, and the stress that remained. "I don't know where to send you Rosalind." He took a deep breath and sat down on the edge of the stage with his feet hanging off the side, and looking out over the room. "I'm so angry with you." He spoke however calm, "I don't think I've ever been so mad at you." He smiled looking over his shoulder at her, "Comes with marriage hmm? Being so afraid of losing the other that I want to put you in a little glass case. I can't raise Apollonia on my own. I would be too afraid of what happened before. I need you..your steady hands..dry sense of humor, lack of smiles, and rare laughter. Structure..reason..understanding. Look. I'm getting on to you for once! I'm as bad as a grown up." (d

Rosalind Avalle "You are. You're sounding very adult right now," she teased mildly, and crossed to where he stood, using the cane to support her weight. She needed it today, though few would have noticed, save the extra white around her knuckles. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her forehead into his bare shoulder, aware she would probably have a smudge of gold there when she lifted it. This was not a gesture of appeasing him. It calmed her, knowing he was there, letting him center her even if he was still angry. Her worst fears were coming true tonight. She needed to be sure he was here.

Finally, she took a deep breath. "I will go to Ada's shop. She has opium. If you can trust your crew, the children and I can stay on your ship." The thought made her queasy with fear, but it was the general state of her stomach lately. Sailing did not make her sick, after all. "Tell me you trust them. That I am not jeopardizing their safety, because I do not trust anyone other than you. It will be a move, one that may draw attention, but once we are at sea, it will not matter. There are a thousand inlets in these isles. You and your crew know them better than anyone else. It would be a fool's mission to take us on with ice and wind. You can continue to be angry with me when we are reunited at the chateau."

Peregrine Rogue: He smirked up over his shoulder at her, as the plan would almost work. Settling back against her he closed his eyes to nuzzle her cheek gently, "Promise? I kinda like being mad at you. Makes me want to turn you over my knee and spank." He grinned, kissing the line of her jaw tenderly.

[Master Claramae St. Laurence]

*Story Note: The Ball/Auction take place approximately a point nearing 7-10 days after the other action listed above.. December 1329, leading into January 1330*

Theater of Death, Part 1: The Winter Masquerade and Auction
- Oh, the webs we weave in a beautiful, elegant, death trap-

January 1330

Jean-Claude: The large oak doors were privy to what was beyond, and the world fell away as one passed through the room. Large windows from ceiling to floor let the natural light of the dying day filter in, and the chandeliers gave welcome to the dawning night. "It has begun." The words sweeping through the empty room, as guests started to filter in. A carnival indoors, where music lofted like the wind brushing over the bodies of the youthful masks displayed like walking masterpieces. It was not uncommon for the gowns to match, of perfect craftsmanship, by hands weather worn and beaten. Under the black silk of his gloves his hands were without about his cane, the limp falling away with the race of a new drug. A feather adorned hat with black lace that fell over his full faced mask. The high collar of his coat trimmed in gold added character and height to man that needed neither. "Welcome! Ladies and Gentleman, Mademoiselles, and Monsieurs. Bonsoir" His English was perfect, but his French was better and the voice that carried under the painted face as clear as a bell as it echoed over the room. "Forgive me..I will be your master of ceremonies, as the other has been..detained." His gloved hand would motion to the curtains, where a perfectly dressed pirate was bound and gagged hanging as if he were part of the decoration. Under the mask it was hard to tell, if Pirate or not..but the blonde curls could belong to none else.

'Clarice' : "Oui, Monsieur, and while the other has been detained it shall be no less than an eventful evening. I am one of many, and many of one. We are cryptic but what among us does not enjoy a good riddle? We are amply paid for it." The morning bird's voice was caught on the edge of a rather shadow candescence, or perhaps said bird merely drowned in the little one's cup of wine so she might rip out the throat to keep? Gloved hand lifted in the direction of the entertainments. " To dance, one way. But to games another." The light in the chandeliers would catch the glitter a'glinting at her waist. A ransom in gems...it may have well been? Sh eleaned over toto the masked Frenchmen " The gaming parlor is ready, monsieur. As are your 'prizes.' (d)

[/b]The Angel[/b] "There are so many, madameouiselle! Look, there..I recognize that one!" So far gone as to even have hired her 'handmaidens' whom had sampled the delights of this room. Should the night wear on in a positive fashion, our petite innocent would thank the master for drawing forth more than a young woman could have wished. Did she wish for this? Opulance, decadence, a swirl of beautiful illusion on the edge of a world of death. How many came, not knowing that they would not leave? How many came, unaware of the true reasons for the masquerade? A mask within a mask, a puzzle under cryptic layers of stone. Moot point, when one was underground as they were. So then would she with company of no less than six women proceed toward the gaming salon to be put upon, displayed. Whispers of ' That must be she..the angel.." were prominent as she walked. As were the stares at a pair of legs even Janice had no idea she owned (d)

Dantae:Parties always seemed much more lively here than they did in his former country of origin. Perhaps it was the change in company that lent itself to the merriment and mirth Skye was becoming known for. Or, perhaps it was the liquor that made Skye appealing? Whatever the magnitude, Dantae discretely returned to what he now considered home. The cloak of rich crimson velvet and gold embroidery was pulled more about his shoulders as light eyes peered through cut holes of the mask. Already, he had a glass in hand; a gift from Bacchus himself. His gaze broke from the blonde masked feminine beside him and toward the front for a moment before the glass was drained and another hinted for.

Bolverk: Already the blacksmith had been drawn into the throw of the party by a beautiful and chocolate hair colored lady. Her gown of crimson red clashed with his dark attire of rustic gold and black. Had she been the only one with such a flair in her attire, he may have deemed her in need of attention. Her laugh was beautiful, but the fact that she was hunting for more then a dance had Bolverk on guard. He seemed light hearted and in a sense was trying to be as he stepped lively with the woman about the dance floor. The mask left his whisker engrossed chin bare so he could speak more freely. "I am feeling light headed already!" The woman teased as a bright smile was given under her mask. Bolverk smiled in return and grabbed her waist with one hand, then spun her about using the other. "No doubt from the drinks they serve. Perhaps slowing down is best?" "No! I plan to dance until my feet swell!" Bolverk could not help thehusky chuckle that came from his mouth as he moved her about, blending in with the crowd of dancers.


Danae: In stepped the woman wearing a deep fushia colored gown decorated lavishly with silver like trinkets. Sweeping and flowing fabric swished with her well balanced steps. Her mask was silver, feathers high above her head, her jewlery even matched the the silver decor of her dress and mask perfectly. Her long dark hair was shiny and curly while her face hidden, was painted as beautifully as any artists masterpiece. She wore gloves they went as high as her elbows for twor reaons... along with the layers of fabric of her dress, they were nice hiding places for things a lady may wish to have with her for personal reasons. She had arrived alone, but that mattered very little with her, and although she was no real lady... none could tell as she was able to pretend with the best of them. Bright icy blue hues peered out as she turned her head left then right, slowly, getting a better feel for the place as her own positioning. Of course she would try to have a good time tonight... but unfortunately, she was here on duty as well. For now... the Ranger blended in very well, and with both hands gathering up portions of her dress, she moved further in. [d]

Ada: There was nothing mournful in Adelaide's appearance, though she came dressed in a striking black. The neckline graced a breath above immodesty, made soft by the detailed black embroidery along the top, a good mimicry of lace before it had yet to be invented. An elegant, white neck was bound in a thick choker of the same fabric, pinpointing the center a hefty ruby jewel, with antiqued silver embellishments. She had arrived as a temptress, and where more fitting to exercise the costume than a grand masque? Her large eyes fluttered open and shut slowly behind a mask of stiffened black fabric and raven's feathers, surveying the scene, and spotting -- of course -- the pirate bound for display. But without a second glance, she passed among the guests, bound for the card tables, where she took her seat elegantly among the men. She fluffed out her skirts, asked to be dealt in, and had them all laughing gaily at the unexpected vulgarity of a lady's language. Was she for sale, too? Certainly not, she would reply tartly, and fleece them all unexpecting, glittering under the sensual upsweep of shining black curls. "You couldn't afford me before the last hand, I doubt much you can afford me now, gentlemen," she teased, a surreptitious glance about their grand quarters this evening for a familiar face. She found many, and all received a smile and a welcoming nod in her direction, should they wish also to be parted with their money. *

Rhiannon: As if one stepped into another world. That was the only way Rhiannon, and perhaps many others?, could think of it. A world full of mystique and illusion where many gathered in fine fabrics. Behind a gold mask aqua eyes laughed up at a gentleman standing next to her, one of many whom had been conversing with her, as candles lit upon the diamonds decorating it to add to the light in their depths. She'd danced already and now sipped a glass of wine while enjoying conversation. Though their minds were more where their eyes lingered, on the way the corseted coat of red with gold embroidered design afforded a view in daring neckline or velvet skirts of her gown hinted at long legs when it'd cling briefly. One hand raised to brush a short auburn curl off one cheek and adjust the velvet tricorn as eyes followed now to their hosts. "It seems to promise to be an enjoyable evening, m'lords." (d)

Rebbeka: She stood there, self concious but the veneer of her image hid it well. If she did not dance yet, it might have been due to her standing over in the shadows, watching the others, at this point in the eve. She did not really need a mask. No one here knew her, yet. Although dancing drew her into the light. Beka was not going to give up the luxurious life she had grown to love . She looked aout and began to feel as at ease as she ever almost did. (d)


NocturneSansFin: "Thank you."A marksman for theatrics, Maître would keep his steps light, the boots of his attire thin like the silk that covered his hands, "Come..You are highest prize." He spoke to the Angel in white, who would find an attendant tucking her hand within the master's arm. His voice lowered, the French outline of his heritage well known, "You do not leave my side, until the auction. Too many hands of greed Mademoiselle to start a fight now.." His whisper was kept behind the painted face, but the smoke color of his eyes true--kind. "Do not be afraid.." He spoke again, curling her hand within his own and pressing the painted lips of his mask to her knuckles. With a motion of his eyes upward a shadow would be revealed. Peregrine watched from above like some dark raven perched in his tree. He was poised and ready aiming about the room, waiting..watching. "Please." Again he called over the room, walking up to the stage to stand by the elegant wheel, Janice at his side her skirts reminding him of wisps of clouds as she moved, an angel indeed. "Who shall be first?" He called out without an answer, "Come now..we can not be shy." His outgoing nature lured them in, so much he turned to the attendant waved his hand as he gave her a bow. "Spin for my dove."

OnlineHost: NocturneSansFin rolled 2 20-sided dice: 7 3

Jean-Claude: A small clap would go about the room, and he would come to place his hand on the small of Janice's back, "Smile to the crowd, open yourself." He would push her forward just a bit, flashing his eyes up to where Pere was perched. Did he see anything just yet? (d

Clarice:"Our master of ceremonies has spun a 10! a 10! Brava, sir. But surely someone will do better. Anyone?" Clarice applauded but expectations were high in a world where expectations yielded limitless result, at least for one who wore a mind upon her breasts. A sir bowed over to 'court' her interest, receiving a hand languidly drawn from neck to furrow, seeming to trap him hence. A flick of fan to open, alas! The view was gone. ": Roll your dice, gentlemen and ladies, the highest scores will receive more than just the wealth of the hosting house! The three highest scores shall be able to redeem a second chance in the auction, upon any prize you wish! A second, bid, imagine that! The others shall still receive compliment of the house there after " Behold her! Can you imagine, my lord. One night as close to heaven as you can imagine.." She whispered among the crowd to draw attention, but also served to highlight other visible prizes. A blonde, a brunette, red heads. Dark headed beauties. Also note the baubles about the throats whole diamonds, sapphires, rubies, emeralds and in other boxes valets showcase daggers and even gold and gem studded cups, straight from the vaults of His Holiness! (d)

Dantae: = 11

Janice: An 11, well played, my lord. Her voice was a whisper dipped in the allure of honey. She curtsied
Set In Her Way: to the masked gambler, offering him choice views. (d)

- The highest score so far is 11 -

Bolverk: Finally! A moment when the fair lady was distracted and another male swept her away. Bolverk bowed out in the most gentlemanly way possible and moved on to the games. Bolverk had come here for fun, among other things. Off to the games!

Bolverk: 14

Jean-Claude: "14! My my..what a heated game this." He would bow his head in the way of the Smith, who had guessed long ago..a sigh of relief left him. "Well done.." The applaud would stop as the next would take their turn. (d


Danae And so it seemed the games were well on their way. Danae moved herself forward still, closing in on the gathering crowds that neared the auction. Behind the silver and fushia mask, thin dark brows arched as she awaited to see the results of others before stepping up and giving it a go herself. [d]

Danae: 28 is now the highest bid


Jean-Claude:: All the crowd would cheer as the lovely miss so far was the highest roll, "Well done!" Boy..how interesting a night this would be if she did not pick the jewels. "And to the lovely lady in black.." He would motion his hand, knowing Ada would happily take the women, actually...he had dreamed of this once, "Can you beat a 28?" (d

Ada: "I should quit while I am ahead, gentlemen, perhaps move on to more lucrative pastures." She smiled, gathered her winnings in a black purse, and waited her turn before stepping up to spin, a faint smile to Jean-Claude beneath her mask. He was quite commanding tonight, speaking of dreams. "I believe my luck is restricted to cards this evening, but we shall see," she offered in wry French, and took her chances. *

Ada: Ada: 18

Clarice: Clarice: 18, my lady...still a strong contender for second! 28 however, my my, madame. You shall surely make off with some of our gems and another item of choice in the auction, at your pleasure. But we are not yet done! The Angel walked about the table, bestowing a feather as if a token charm to each player. Not far from the view of her guardian, she was also not far from the view of the others. The lady took her place at the table, seeming to lift a hand for more to come. Upon the roof unseen, the pattern began to change so that the walls displayed a flurry of soft snowflakes in the glass mirrors amidst 'blooming roses'. To the trained eye? Those roses bloomed of blood. As the walls changed, someone..or some persons, were dying. Delightful way to clean up a body, no? - Rebekkah, your up! -

Ruphert[/b[
He folds his arms and glowers up at those taking their chance with gambling. "I would try that, if it is open to any. "

Rebbeka:Rebbeka did not see the man who walked up beside her; she was usually so alert, that caught her This looks like fun!

Clarice: "Come come, my man! one die is hardly sporting..surely you prefer two?" Good things came in pairs, if he fathomed to trail his eyes about he might see: two eyes, two shapely arms..."An 8, ah sir..an 8. Perhaps next time. You should bring a luck charm.." She leaned over then, offering a cheek kiss to a few gentlemen and ladies. Some swooned, others pondered. later, no, later. - Flynn, your up! You may enter in and then roll since this is your firstand then after flynn, tabs! -

French Naval Lord It seemed as though this Theatre des Morte - this Theatre of the Dead - was perhaps the last place that one of the common blood would expect to find the scion of one of France's noble and Catholic houses. That this scion was an officer of the King's Navy would only add to the scandal. Perhaps that was why the man wore a Italian bauta mask. A mask that not only allowed the wearer the comfort of anonymity -- while being able to eat and drink. When he found the dice in his hand, he was able to let the dice roll. (D)

Lord: 14

A 14, Brava. Fate is with you, Monsieur.. but we still have another roll, but one more, come..come! The last roll before we see whom has tied

Gentlemen: Around her many whispered about the Angel that graced the stage, drawing Rhiannon's blue gaze to that one briefly, before she whispered to a gentleman,"Shall you give it a try, good sir?" And so, the gentleman rolled. (d)

Gentlemen: 18

18, brava! Brava sir. If the lady will not roll than she has enchanted your dice!


The Tiebreakers

Ada: "Again? How lovely." She liked this game. And the women were intriguing to look at from beneath the feathered mask, which perhaps explained her lack of luck for the most part in any game but cards....
Ada: 13


Gentlemen: Oh good fortune! The lady must have blessed him by just merely looking upon him! Hopefully she would again...

Gentlemen: 18

Our first place, to this Lady in scarlet, the second place, to the gentlemen with our lady of the sea, Brava sir, brava!

Bolverk: Bolverk had to give it to the ladies. They came with more then the charm of their attires and lovely smiles. "Ladies, you do us men shame with your many talents."

[Bolverk: 15

15, My lord thy hand is delightful in fortune. I pray you bid as well as you roll. My lord, your next

Frenchmen "Again?" The Frenchman man asked, a coy smile underneath his mask. There was a cant of his head, as he idle while rolling the dice in his hands. Then, he was to roll. (D)

Frenchmen: 34

Not only have we broken the tie, we have just switched first place winners!

The new order, the Frenchman, The Lady in Scarlet, and the Gentlemen! Huzzah you all (Matt, Dani, and Tabs, you will be able to redeem an extra chance on a bid item of your choice


The Frenchmen - 34
The Lady in Scarlet - 28
The Gentlemen - 18


Rebekka and Rhupert[/b[: Beka closed her fan and let it drop on the ribbon about her wrist. "Games of chance are not my cup of tea, it seems." Rhupert stepped up to take his chance with the others. " Tap the dice with your fan and I will have good luck.."I think you are too late, sir." (d)[/color][/font]

[Master Claramae St. Laurence]

The Auction
- Note: After a couple of shows of bidding examples, the log has been edited and summarized in several portions. Enjoy! -

Jean Claude: "Angel.." He called out to Janice to have her return to his side, his eyes placing them behind the curtains. With a single motion of his hand, the carnival freak would begin. All lights on the floor would vanish, a trick of the eye as they were covered. The stage was set as the music played, an overture of what was to come. Smoke and mirrors, he told himself as the chandelier came down over the stage. A vibrant beautiful piece that lit the room with an amber glow dimmed as well over the patrons of the room. His limp was gone, but the cane remained moving over the stage in beat with the drums that soon fell silent as he kicked off the auction. "Bonsoir.." He spoke again as the attendants would position the ladies. His cape was long drawn over his back with a high collar that covered until his hat. Gloves had been changed to white silk, better to showcase he felt, and shimmered in the amber light like his mask. "Monsieur..Mademoiselles..Let us start this auction with the list of items at hand." He would extend his hand to the lady in white who slid him the paper of all objects of interest. "An auction of Kings! The underground law that runs here would forbid it, but they are mindless drones..slaves. From the coast of BarBary, two perfectly bred workers whose lives are meant to serve. They come with papers, and reason, completely obedient and broke in.." His smirk under his mask was a bit evil for his taste, but was the show no? "We shall start from the bottom up." Many more to come. "At what shall I start the price?" (d

There were many passes on this prize, but ultimately, as always it is wanted by someone.

[/b]:Rebekkah[/b]: Passes this chance, looking away quietly.(d)

Passes on the slaves..
Dantae shook his head, passing.


Bolverk: Raises a black gloved hand as dark eyes stare beyond the mask.
Beloved Souls rolled 1 10-sided die: 4


Comte: There would be a slight shake of his head. Why would the Frenchman bid on what he had contributed to the Theatre des Morte? (D)


"So we start the auction at 4..do I hear a 5?"
"It seems not, Monsieur..does he hear5?"

He would wait in for a moment, seeing not a hand go up, but the pirate in the balcony bouncing..he'd like the slaves.."Sold, for 4 pieces." (d

Slaves sold to The Blacksmith, Bolverk. Simple French captured, well trained slaves, yes?
"I will collect them at the end of the night." His rich voice announced.

Clarice: "The next item up for bid is in the realm of real estate..real estate! The Isle of Lewis itself! A pride of the local crown.." She dangled the deed, "With a choice array of devious plans as we have heard they shall build a trade capital at Stornoway. The Isle of Lews features a twin, Isle Harris Who shall bid?"

[/b]The Isles of Lewis and Harris: Plot: The winner recieves information on the Isles of Lewis and Harris, the future plans of a trade capital at Stornoway, investments therein, and if they are not the sort to be allied perhaps the chance to enter into the upcoming wars of merchants and states for the hefty prize. The future of this prize will be re-mentioned in coming stories![/b]

Dante And how such sounded upon his ear. A hand lifted.
OnlineHost: Tempus Matutinus rolled 1 10-sided die: 3

[/b]Comte[/b]: The Frenchman would raise a gloved hand, as his signal. (D)
OnlineHost: CaptainJackFlynn rolled 1 10-sided die: 10

Set In Her Way: 10, 10! Who can surpass!

Bidder: A man from the other side of the earth, stepped in to shout his voice, "I'll bid. Get me a woman that way." The giant mountaineer would stream his voice across the floor. "Y'all"
OnlineHost: NocturneSansFin rolled 1 10-sided die: 5
"Damn."


Rhupert: He raises one hand and bids in a low gravly voice.
OnlineHost: Rhupert rolled 1 10-sided die: 2

James duChere:The item he came for is announced… The arm raises the black glove points a finger in gesture for a bid…(d)
SemperSkye rolled 1 10-sided die: 6

Clarice So fascinated by the offer, the lady Diamond plays her own bid in to the fray
OnlineHost: Set In Her Way rolled 1 10-sided die: 2

The Isles of Lewis and Harris with a key property in the stake of the new trading capital, sold for 10 pieces to..

"I'll double it…" He yells to the Frenchman… looking at the Auctioneer…The arm raises the black glove again pointing a finger in gesture for a bid…(d)

As with any great item, a bidding war ensued..

OnlineHost: CaptainJackFlynn rolled 1 10-sided die: 4
OnlineHost: SemperSkye rolled 1 10-sided die: 2

And again, the Isle still goes to the Man of France, my sir worry not we have other items for bid..

James: Thrice damn yu..." the voice echoed under the mask... "NAME YER FRIGGIN PRICE..." thundered James...

Comte: "You would try to do so, monsiuer?" The Frenchman called, looking back toward the gentleman, "Even the amount you would offer would not compare to what the Sun King would offer!" (D)

The gentlemen there wishes to up your anty!
OnlineHost: CaptainJackFlynn rolled 1 10-sided die: 6
Dante/b]: ``I raise your wager.`` He said, biding one more time.
OnlineHost: Tempus Matutinus rolled 1 10-sided die: 2
OnlineHost: SemperSkye rolled 1 10-sided die: 9

The bid was closed here..
James: ::growling::
And it seems we have a war ensuing!

James paces awaiting the decision of the Auctioneers... glaring at the Frenchman... his fingers grip the hilt of the ornate sword.:::: He'd have those Isles come Hell or Purgatory... he twisted the hilt in rage down deep.


- Thinking he had lost, duChere went on through the auction. But later, the Frenchmen, having had the documents validated, would later write to his hosts realizing that in the fray the higher bidder had been lost, not even knowing he'd won when all he could do was glare at his French competition. An error, but one that because of gentlemen's honor will turn into perhaps the costliest mistake in an upcoming war of finance and persons that has ever been seen off the continent. A war that will not only bring about one person, but nations.-


The Islands of Lewis and Harris by way of the trade capital of Stornoway, stakes in the same, and the seeking to annex said islands to person or persons: Papers currently in the hands of the Comte, True Owner, James duChere...

also known as James Maubrey![/b] Alas, but masks hide many things...

Jean-Claude "I am sorry, M'lord, but perhaps I can interest you in the next item.." A pair of boots.."Finely crafted in handmade leather it seems." A couturir inspecting the craft. "Italian leather.." Hmmm, wonder if they came in his size. "Do I hear a start?" (d

(Rhupert) Counts what funds he has left to bet, having lost again. Yet waves his hand again.
OnlineHost: Rhupertrolled 1 10-sided die: 1


Jean-Claude: "So it starts at 1. Do I hear anyone else?"
Bolverk: Raises his hand.
OnlineHost: Beloved Souls rolled 1 10-sided die: 1
Comte: For the lack of anything else? He would raise his hand. (D)
OnlineHost: CaptainJackFlynn rolled 1 10-sided die: 7
Ada: She lifted her hand. She needed a new pair of boots for gardening in the spring, anyway.
OnlineHost: Infinite Storms rolled 1 10-sided die: 5

Jean Claude: "So we end at 7, My Lord..what luck have you." (d
(Rhupert)"I needed new boots, too! Dang!" (d)

The Boots, Won by the Frenchmen, the Comte.


Clarice: Boots for the gentlemen..the next item, friends, brace yourselves...is an estate in the papal states, of one of the pope's recently deceased favorites. A delightful villa on the seaside, resplendid with servants, a personal carriage, the rights to a courtesan house in Corsica...and papal authority. Did we mention? It was a bishop's house? Who shall bid!

OnlineHost: Shaden Aramoire rolled 1 10-sided die: 7

Seven, a high start for something so fine!
Dante: And so his hand raised.
OnlineHost: Tempus Matutinus rolled 1 10-sided die: 8
Shaden From the crowd a masked woman yells out an bid in an oddly Russian yet.. hauntingly familiar voice to the Master of Ceramonies...
Beloved Souls rolled 1 10-sided die: 3
Comte: The Frenchman would again raise his hand! (D)
OnlineHost: CaptainJackFlynn rolled 1 10-sided die: 8
Infinite Storms rolled 1 10-sided die: 9
9!
Jean-Claude: Jean-Claude simply could not let Shaden lose anything without a fight, but was shocked when Ada bid...what did she need them for? She would probably just lose them in her garden. He would raise his hand. (d
OnlineHost: NocturneSansFin rolled 1 10-sided die: 10
10 10! Very very precious, who shall try more!
(Rhupert): His hand goes up to sign he is bidding on this! His living in it would un-Bishop it good!
OnlineHost: Rebbeka rolled 1 10-sided die: 9
James James raises his gloved hand...
OnlineHost: SemperSkye rolled 1 10-sided die: 9

Ahh my friends.....you want it don't you, and can you imagine the access you shall have!Any interested takers, again?
Beloved Souls rolled 1 10-sided die: 3
From the gentlemen, 3,
CaptainJackFlynn rolled 1 10-sided die: 3
James: James grits his teeth and raises his hand...
OnlineHost: SemperSkye rolled 1 10-sided die: 6
OnlineHost: Shaden Aramoire rolled 1 10-sided die: 3
Ada: Lifted her fingers.
OnlineHost: Tempus Matutinus rolled 1 10-sided die: 4
OnlineHost: Infinite Storms rolled 1 10-sided die: 7
OnlineHost: NocturneSansFin rolled 1 10-sided die: 8
OnlineHost: Rebbeka rolled 1 10-sided die: 8

The Final Tie breaker..
OnlineHost: Rebbeka rolled 1 10-sided die: 10
OnlineHost: NocturneSansFin rolled 1 10-sided die: 5

THAT was a riveting fight ladies and gentlemen, many bidders..many bids....in the end..it seems a strange taker arrives for the papacy Congratulations, sir and lady with him

The Estate of a Papal Favorite, to Rhupert Jenks


There were many other fine prizes. Swords, Fleet worthy vessels laden with treasures galore, a set of jewels worthy of the dowry or a princess or the throat of a queen. The winners of these items:


The Sword, by a master Craftsmen: Signore Dante de Favinor
The Ships: One Brigantine, One Galleon from the Spanish, fully crewed, and treasure laden: Ada
The Jewels: Jean-Claude

The Story of the Sword: Crafted by a true master, it is fabled to be the same blade that did away with enemies on the island of Crete some twenty to thirty years before. Well cared for, it still shines like new. As does it's story, in the mind of the Alderman.

The Story of the Jewels, and one Ruby aboard ship, shall be told at a later time. It isn't known....yet...but each will find out the tale in their own way. As with all treasure tales, there are things to make you sigh, and make you gasp in shock.


And now..we come to the flesh...


Rhupert: (Rhupert) Slams his drink cup to the ground and growls."Bloody Hell!"in disgust. I spent too much tonight! Ihave not a chance!

Clarice:Ah my friends, alas, our...material items have diminished but I dare you, implore you, feast your eyes upon the following..:: upon a satin pillow a garter is brought out (picture available in masquerade thread):: Whom- soever shall buy this garter shall retrieve it's beautiful owner! These women are fabled to please and titilate the elite of our world and that above. They may come with..extra fair in the saddle bag if you are but willing to moun the mare. Whom shall bid upon this garter! Fine lace it has..a ribbon of silk...surely a dainty thigh it belongs to.

Of course everyone would bid upon a pretty garter belonging to a pretty woman, ravishing really for there were no lack of swans on this glass lake. There were many, many takers...

Infinite Storms: She wanted a lady. This one was particularly pretty, wasn't she? She didn't even make any gestures of bidding in stead of a man -- it was all Ada lifting her fingers, and twinkling at Clarice.

Even one among the ladies!


James: smirks... "not only undergarments but the owner...."

In the end, [/b]James du Chere[/b] would leave with the garter, belonging to [/b]Lady Rebekkah[/b]

: Indeed, Lady, reveal yourself!

Rebbeka: Beka stepped out of the sidelines, her long heavy red silk gown sliding along the floor, in slow stately walk over to the announcer and nods her head, to acknowledge it is her garter won.

The Lady Rebekka...said to be of the dutch..perhaps the norse... Sir, please take your garter and your woman

James: ::wiggles his finger...:: come hither mademoiselle...
Rebekka:Yes, sir. Tis so nice to meet you. " she curtsied slowly and with the perfection that she had been taught. "Will you accept your winning?(d)
James: Looks to Beka and smiles moving closer...::
Rebekkah: She looks over at James, folds her fan and taps her temple with the end of it. "You do like to take chances, don't you?

Jean-Claude: He would take the arm of the Pirate Witch pulling her forth, determined to make these auctions easier. "I give you a stolen treasure. From far away lands, washed up on the shores of Skye." He spoke out of his imagination to add to her value. "One night with this fiery redhead, and you will burn forever." He kept her forward moving around her with his hands behind his back. "And what shall we start?" (d

Flesh inspires money to be removed from the purse, and again there was a firey war for a rightful firery woman, but in the end the winner was Bolverk, the Blacksmith.[/b]

Bolverk: And so he would collect in a gentleman manner.
Rhiannon: Quietly, with a polite curtsy to the Master, she then went to her Smith like a behaved lady. Looking him over with a slight widening of eyes. Oh this would be a pleasant evening! (d)

Rhupert:digs into his pockets for the alst of his coin." I need more than this for the last event! How did I lose so much tonight?(d)

Poor fellow, the bidding does leave one with bottomed pockets. Nothing sells for just a song, anymore.

Clarice: "Indeed" He is a fine, fine man. She would know of them all how fine though for what reason was a secret Of course that is not the only fine prize of the evening. She began to prance about the stage, liftng ladies faces with the edges of her fan. "Pay attention to the next. From the land of far away sands, arid deserts and stunning oasis comes to you Jisella! Daughter of sheik, this delicious date has traveled far, from sultans..to maharajahs! She will dance for you not one night..but promises eternity to her winner! heart and soul, body, mind...what will you do for not one night, but 1,001, with this desert blossom? Do I hear a bid!"

Everyone enjoys an exotic import. After the bidding became tense, and one man called in his additional chance voucher from The Wheel Game, Jisella, The Arabian dancer would go to The Frenchmen, The Comte:

It is not yet known which one received the better end of the deal.

Jisella: She looks upward with almond eyes to meet the gaze of her new owner.. forever was such a long time and it seemed she would be learning French... she moved to him with the grace of a desert wind.. warm and inviting and knelt at his booted feet.(d)
Comte: "Better luck next time, monsiuer," The French officer said. And then he would step forward, to claim the desert rose as his own. There was a smile as he looked down at her. (D)

James: James looks to Beka.... "I shall meet yu at the City Cathedral at the break of dawn... Now I must leave..." :::
Rebekka: At dawn. I will be there, sir." she curtsies again, this time looks up so she will recall his face. (d)
Or how deals were arranged, for that matter. Do these ladies too, come with tales to tell? We shall merely have to let time give us the answer to that.

Jean-Claude: "Ladies and Gentleman, Only two more to go." Then all hell would break loose. "May I present to you The Diamond of the evening." His gloved hand would come forward to present Clarice, her elegant attire by far one of the best he had had done. "We shall start her off..." He watched the room, seeing a shift in the faces, and so too did the pirate in his perch. (d

The one whom had helped to lead and orchestrate would lower her fan, tossing it to one of the women attendants. Ah yes, the man had done a job so well that someone would seek to steal the diamonds off her clothes. (d)

Jean-Claude "And to the visitor the Lady shall go, Good Sir..I wish you luck." Over his dead body. (d
Clarice For he would be getting no 'body' from this lady - not as he percieved it to be!
The Visitor: The large male would step up and wearing clothes that he normally wouldn;t be caught in, seem to pull this get up off, pretty damn good. But he accepted his win with all the gentlemanly manners as he knew he should.

And so The Visitor won Clarice, the Lady Diamond. No word yet on if he has survived his encounter let alone what became of the Diamond herself. Oh my, what webs we weave..

Clarice: I promise you, I will do far better by you than a trussed up little baguette. I would think you desire the whole bakery.." She purred into the ear of the gentlemen..

The Visitor: The man that had just claimed his prize wore all his hair pulled back into a single gathering and tied neatly. His face hidden from the world by the mask he wore, to some here, he was known..to others, not so much. He simply watched for now with his hand upon his Lady's arm then leaned in toward her and nodded with a husky whispered reply. ``I trust you will, I look forward to it M'lady``. [d]

Auction Valet With all of the ladies gone from the fray ....there was still one last one whom stood tonight on the verge of what made a girl and woman separate only by the physical prowess on the body. The Valet would bid all the crowd should hush. A whisper raced as fast as the human heart! Six women adorned in white gowns rose to take the center stage. They lowered, and in a sea of silver soaked light akin to that of day the upper mirrors turned to reflect it down. Standing where nothing had been now stood The Angel herself. Her eyes, masked, turned to Jean-Claude Save me from myself...though for so far.. I thank you. She walked to the edge of the stage..awaiting to be presented. "Monsieur...will now present The Virgin......The Angel..

Jean-Claude: His white hands came to collect her, drawing her closer to present her forward. "We shall start the numbers high, as I know the bidders have already placed their offers. So I will tell you now..it shall be a battle, but a like any sweet Victory. I will start the bid." He would raise his gloved hand.


And so they bid. On this one, letters and offers from far and wide had come for she came with quite the prize. Indeed, she was a prize..far greater than anything anyone could imagine

Angel's Secrets: "One night..and no closer to God shall you ever be. With me, I carry with me a dowry that shall be given with my maidenhead...and a secret..." Inside, Janice had laid down to die. The girl child trembled, but the woman kept her focus. She could feel it, the eyes...the hot breath of expectation. Hail mary.. she recited in her head

"I come with a way to the heart of London...a key to a path in Avignon...."(d)
He had started to speak, but words were captured as he felt his knees grow weak, and suddenly under his white gloves, his hands would turn the same as thy now held his cane with need. Who taught her to say that? ..


In the end...a dear friend would win her, and a great deal more for his trouble as well..Jean-Claude, the Master of Ceremonies


There would be final dancing. There would be final drinking.
There would be final murders..[/color][/font]

[Master Claramae St. Laurence]

Theater of Death, Part 2 - The Murders and The Escape

Claramae: Claramae took her chances; the recent weeks had not provided enough brushes with death to satiate her desire for inexplicable escapes from impossible situations. Or, it could be, that the woman who was the face of the placid, stoic feminine simmered with vengence set to boil over. A tile beneath a delicate shoe began to shift. A heavy, dragging slide against the foundation stones occured as mechanisms locked or pushed together to make the feat a reality. Onefoot away from death, she came to the next tile having changed in one instant to the next, each more wicked than the last. Immaculate hands, could, and wanted to be dirty here. On the ballroom floor she had yet to dance with her opponets (d)

Comte Benoit deChagny. : It seemed as though, even here - in this warren of thievery and villainy - that trust was one of the rarest of treasures. And one that had not made it to the auction block! Just as well. It could not have fetched more than a ha'penny from this desperate and cut-throat lot. The French nobleman soon found the price of trust when - as he was tucking his deed to the two islands (and the woman!) away - an arrow that had been loosed across the length of the auction hall on its course to some target. The sharp-bladed arrow sliced threw the plumage that had adorned the Frenchman's nice hat only a moment before! He swore, as he made for shelter -- unsheathing his own blade to deal with any miscreants that should be in his way! At least, for now, his bought-lady was safe. (D)

Ada Peregrine dragged Ada through the halls toward safety, though they were both disoriented, and Ada still in shock from what had happened moments before. He loosed arrows over the balcony on those worth felling in the auction hall, but from the sound of footsteps in the halls, quickly threw Ada into the nearest room. They were on the second floor -- a good drop, but luckily, there were linens Ada could tear into a makeshift rope, which is precisely what the pair worked on while more gathered outside the door. Peregrine found an ornamental sword on the wall that wouldn't cut butter, but it was better than nothing, and he waited by the open window for Ada to finish up her knots. It was time for both of them to get out of here, as his lover was on a boat with their children, and hers was likely worried sick about her. * (Heading toward the ball-room)

Rhiannon: Where had her gentleman gotten off to? Through the ensuing chaos Rhiannon's aqua eyes searched for her Mysterious Gentleman with worry. Had he been struck down? Silk, satin, and velvet covered bodies made it hard to spotanything from her position, crouched under a table as she was. Before they'd decorated the ballroom beautifully and now seemed naught except an annoyance! "Oh do bloody move! I can't see anything he-" Rhiannon was cursing at satin skirts that blocked her view completely when suddenly the owner dropped to the floor...dead! One hand flew over her mouth, not in alarm though or an onset of vapors, as she spotted the Mysterious Gentleman(Smith) off in the distancenear a lady in a fuschia colored gown. "Now, if only I could find a knife in this mess!" (d)

Locations + Villians

( The Auction Hall - Mr. Darius Rivnor, with his boutinered accomplices! Both killing directly and seeking a way out!)
The Halls = The Alderman, with his accomplices whom fade in and out of the black! Be careful, candles may go out! )
The Ballroom - Elric Deichenhause with the green masked men! You may kill the NPCs freeform, they are numberless, all things abound! If you are going after one of the three men, I need a bolded statement so I can make sure to free things to count for your dice! )

Comte deChagny: There was a low growl, as the Frenchman peered out from behind what little bit of protection his alcove offered as the Auction Hall erupted into chaos, blood shed, and other hallmarks of melodramatic villainy! The Frenchman huffed, "Is it not always my luck?" He growled to himself in French, "Whenever I am near a stage, it never fails! One of my fellow countryman has an egomaniacal fit, dons a mask, and engages in such villainy....." Hmm. He gave a quick glance about, wondering where that gentleman all in scarlet and wearing the skull mask had gone of too. Surely, he was behind all of this! That, or -- no, surely. Surely it wasn't the man from Gascon that had the large no-- erhm, the white panache! Whoever was behind it, the Frenchman had drawn his blade! Time to slate it blood. He would go after one of the boutinered mooks! (D)

Rhiannon: Wasn't this supposed to have been a pleasant event? Lots of dancing, drinking, eating, and well buying items! Instead it'd turn into a nightmare. Even now men in green masks killed willy-nilly. Shifting back further as one of those very gentleman appeared in front of her, his boots even with her eyes, Rhiannon's breath locked in her throat now. Yet it seemed out in the ballroom things were getting more interesting...could it get worse? (d)

Claramae: The orchestra was a'shambles in dischordant, skewered note melody the instruments were playing as they clattered to the floor abscent of players. The harpsichord slammed shut by way of haphazard hands of the dead player gone slack across the front of it. Oh yes. The (ballroom) was turning into a place fit only for demons and not the elegant creatures of the marble floors. Once the Diamond and promised to a handsome, strange man, the woman vanished only to be the Claramae whom threw up the side of her skirt with little fail after she flipped onto the instrument! With drawing three flat daggers, she launched them out at the green masked asailants. One was removed of an eye, another received a new hole for air in his throat, and the last? He joined her on the closed top to meet death up close and personal (d)

Comte deChagny: The Frenchman was many things - a nobleman, a naval officer, and (of course) French - but that he was a well-rounded duelist was something that could no be disputed! Even now, he was fighting one of the boutinered minions corpse-a-: corpse. The sound of their person battle was lost in the din of the villains turning the Auction Hall in to an abattoir. With a savage backhand, the Comte sent his assailants off balance and his ears ring. A quick stamp of the Comte's boot broke the man's instep, before Benoit implaied the man on his sword. Benoit withdrew his blade from the man, and shoved the body aside. And already he was set upon by another! (D)

Rhiannon: Bodies dropped, music came to a halt almost eerily, and now it was a different haunting melody that hit her ears. That of the dying who tried futilely to find shelter. The man had killed a few, blood pooling near his boots and seeping toward where gloved hands rested against the floor. Silently shifting now, moving sideways along the table, a hand made contact with something that brought blue eyes swerving to it with an eager light! Oh, a dagger! Clutched in the hand of a dead man, but that was only a tiny matter to consider. Prying apart fingers, she whispered,"See if I listen to those people again. Oh men don't like finding weapons concealed in strange places on their women! Hah!" They'd have to deal from now on... (d)

Peregrine "Wish me luck, Ada..I can't leave them there. You can find your way out..get help. Wake the General, call the guards.." He would walk her to the edge of the balcony where the sheetrope waited patiently for it's princess. He held her hand for a moment, torn for the door but turning back to look at her one last time. Lacing his fingers with hers, he pulled her close. The bitter cold of the wind could not compare to the wild of the sun, and the child from the forest when he kissed her. His lips felt so right against her own, and as his hand came to clasp her cheek he whispered, "I love you." He would return, but what if--ran his mind. What if she didn't? She had to know, Ada knew everything. Down into the hall he went, back out unarmed, but arming in all the same right. He pulled away the heavy overcoat revealing the sleeveless attire of black beneath. He was not the tallest, but well built all upper body. His eyes were focused on one man, that man who so threatened his wife and child, his lover, and friend. Rivnor was his. The child of the forest was hunting. (d

(1. You can call for the guard, the additional guards are approved! White Talon folk, Outriders, have fun if you make it out at some point by my guide. 2) Limit length increased to 5 boxes! 3.) Since it's been the first hour, if you are bold you may now begin to take a chance at the main villians! Remember to bold their names, so I can freeze play and show you their stuff, and tally your dice!)all bad guys come with speeches, remember some of their words. Could get you a prize later! )

Claramae: She spared no expanse in pagentry nor in the arts of her trade. Where one leg revealed the daggers for throwing, the other garter held a piece of wear that was in the hands of seamen for the most part. The pistol was withdrawn from her right thigh. Next lackey in her face met with a sharp pop of fire. Screams erupted afresh at the sounds, the scent of powder and smoke mingling with the heady aroma of her perfume. Another, from the back of the same garter, bang! Then both were turned about for the butts to crack skulls. Falling bodies became her stairway as she jumped over the backs of men to land on the table where certain individuals might be hiding. Practice made perfect, but she wanted to hone technique in order to make a lasting mark on him that did it to her. The Lady was looking for Deichenhause. (d)

Comte deChagny: Like the flowers that they wore, it seemed as the boutonniere wearing minions fell once and again before the Frenchman's onslaught. As he fought two more of scum, he bellowed, "For glory! For Glory to King Philip the Fortunate!" One of the scum received a punch to his face, another saw the Frenchman's blade slice out -- and open a cut around his waist. The minion spilled his guts, in every way. To those who had not accustomed to the sound of noise and fury of a black-powder weapon, their first instinct was to cringe and look that way. A minion did as such! And promptly received a sword-blade into his kidney. As it was, the Frenchman felt as though there was a crush of men again him! Did none of the other auction goers have the wherewithal to defend themselves? As he battled another, he called out, "To arms! To arm! Guards! Guards!" But even as he fought, his eyes were sharp. Where was the man who was leading them? Where the villan of this melodrama (Rivnor)? (D)


Rivnor: "Alas, so ends thy era of foturne, thy time of bliss in a land not unlike Eden, yet not the same. For Eden hath not such hell as was wrought here in this room. Alas, I drink to thee!" Whilst his henchmen were downed like flies, he lingered on the steps of the amphitheater, in plain sight from the auction stage with a glass of port. He drank it slowly, watching an arrow fly hither, a dagger yon. He felt the push of air but none of the effect. The Frenchmen calling for Glory to King Philip was met with "Philip is an arrogant ass like every other one of these inbred bastards on the thrones. The guard is useless, and you..disturb my port. Ah well."

Comte deChagny: The Frenchman paused in the midst of fight, hearing those words. He turned to look at the stage -- parrying a henchman's attack. A sigh! Why had not thought to look there before? It was as much a part of the routine of villainy, as anything else! There was only one response to Rivnor's words: the Frenchman took a swipe at Rivnor's eyes, with his sword (a feint!) and then sought to slam his fits into his jaw! (D)

: CaptainJackFlynn rolled 1 10-sided die: 8

(Rivnor is now crippled, one useless eye, and a good hit to the jaw! )


Rivnor: He made ready for the Frenchmen by standing, tossing the cup of port aside and beginning the customary dance. Sword withdrawn, it was only within a pair of swipes that he lost his own eye while he wasn't sure if the Frenchmen took his forward thrust. Yowling in pain, he fell back again on the steps, feeling the pain surging in his jaw. He still gave a half-hearted smile...laughing as he began his race round the auditorium steps. Coming down the steps toward the Comte? The sound of spiraling axes swinging from the ceiling. Rivnor would say "I've cut better in my day, but we don't have her yet! Just wait a little while longer...and we will have all we need to raise the finest armies of Europe!"

Rivnor's largest secret will be revealed on the next cripple or death hit!

Ada: The kiss sent her tumbling in the metaphysical sense. In reality, her feet remained planted precisely where they were meant to be, and the draft coming through the open window made her skin involuntarily shiver. It was cold out and she was wearing very little. She blinked to find he'd already left, and she let the bedsheet rope glide through her fingers. She couldn't see much where she was to go outside, was uncertain of the path to safety, but knew it wasn't in the halls. With a little smile, Ada dropped the rope and sneaked quietly back out into the halls. Perhaps there were other women to get up to the guest room, and she could get them all down the rope safely. Perhaps, sheshould really know when to fold 'em, and just go home to her waiting Jean-Claude. But obviously, she didn't, and she kept creeping along the hallways, looking for any sign of someone to be rescued, and momentarily stopping to pick up a candlestick. She yanked out the candle, smushed out the flame, and held it close to her chest. Hadn't Ghislain smacked her over the head with one of these not too long ago? Well, at least she knew whoever she hit wouldn't be getting up any time soon. She certainly hadn't. *

Rhiannon: Having pried the dagger from those dead hands, Rhiannon was just moving backward to push the body blocking her passage aside when a hand gripped her arm. It was a harsh grip even through thick fabric. Struggling ensued as the man tugged to pull her out and she resisted. "Let go! NOW!" Back and forth they went, he tugged her out a little and she struggled backward still on knees. That hand gripped the dagger tightly. It was on the third...or was it fourth? tug that skirt made contact with the pool of blood sending her slipping forward, and the one removable sleeve tore off at the strings. "Oh bloody hell! Look what you did!" Stopping herself from a full on body painting in red by gripping a chair back, Rhiannon brought up her other hand and shoved the blade into his ribs. "Bastard..." Bringing about a howl from the green masked man and a slap to her face.(d)

[/b]Peregrine[/b]: He had found a tie for his hair, keeping free from his face, but still the wildness could not be contained for long. "Back off Frenchie, this one is mine." He narrowed his eyes, dangerous pools of ocean blue upon the masked winner of the Isle. "No one threatens the life of my wife and child and lives." He spoke with a roll of the blade over the back of his hand, two short swords thin. His eyes then moved from the Frenchman who he as well had to smirk. He called loyalty to Phillip? Really? If he were betting man, which he was; he would put all his money on the She-Wolf. Face to face now with the retreating Rivnor he would smirk. "Something you want to say to my face, punk?" Only Pere would have to look up to someone to talk down to them. (d

Rivnor: Sands an eye and his face swelling he did find actions spoke louder than words. He stalled in his feet, sweeping his foot out to catch peregrine off of his before another attack could ensue. A closed fist was intent to slamdown to take the air out of him. "I do. Deichenhause will enjoy slicing up your pretty like he enjoyed the Madame. Same as Krause enjoyed drugging the illusionist ass. (d)

- Roll dice! -

"That's what your last wife said. God dog that one." He would block the throw or do his best.

NocturneSansFin rolled 1 10-sided die: 7

Rolling the man he would move his head up to look at the Frenchman, "You got him?" He smiled, passing the sword to the winner of the Isle.

Jean-Claude He came into the ballroom with his limp, the cane sounding over the broken marble very nice. His gloved hand over the large ruby had been changed from white to black, and the costume had been pulled away. The ballroom had been such a pleasure he felt, as aged memories came and went he would brush a bit of fallen debris from his attire. Janice was safe, tucked away into the night and his payback was forth coming. This was the man thatpoisoned Clara? The reason for her to be so sick in her own bed, and under his own hands? This Deichenhause, my how he would enjoy this, but patiently wait for Claramae's call. He would let her get her revenge. (d

Rivnor: (secret) "He's already done it, in part! Taken down a whole house in Spain n' uses it even now. Just you wait and see. Alas....Poor King Alfonso...How spain will grow to loathe this place..."

Diechenhause: For his place in the scheme of things he lingered the faux stairway constructed of outjutting stones covered in white bunting and flowers. By no means passive, he with little mercy took down fleeing innocent and allied hand alike for his means - literally. Some would be sans hand. Others sans fingers. All whilst he smiled at Claramae and JC..All whilst he..invited them to dance with a cant of his hat. (d)

Claramae: Claramae: He'd poisoned her..he'd sliced her back to infamous ribbons with only skilled hands and prayer that mended what it was now. Good herb lore, good hope was what faded the scars where she rotated her shoulderblades. She beckoned to Jean-Claude to come, whilst to Rhiannon she provided assistance by reaching out with a hand and stopping an assault on her by throwing the man into one of the glass walls, causing it to splinter(d)

Comte deChagny: The Frenchman would arch an eyebrow, as his pursuit of Rivnor. He murmured quietly to himself, "Hmm. And I thought I twas the hero of this farce...." Ah well! There was a salute to the Pirate, as he waited his turn to silence the long-winded buffoon. The Comte canted his head quietly, listening to the fool's words. With such as he learned now - couple with lands to be claimed in the name of King Philip the Fortunate - would accolades and favor bestowed upon the good Comte? Perhaps. When the Pirate addressed him, the Frenchman would salute, "But of course....." Looking to Rivnor, the Comte said, " You speak far too long, buffoon -- and do so without making me laugh....." With that, the Frenchman drew back his blade -- and made ready to plunge it into Rivnor's chest! (D)

CaptainJackFlynn rolled 1 10-sided die: 6
(A substantial hit, but a flesh wound! Next CRITICAL hit over 6 between 7-10 will kill him! )

Rivnor: "N' your a French pain in the ass with a small prick and a smaller..brain.." He sputtered, crippled but seeming like some ungodly thing that was just animated on vapors of hellstench! Why, he even took the Frenchman's sword in hand, bloodying his own hand to push it back up at him and knock him off his feet. (d)

Ada:Ada was distinctly alone in this hall and she hated it. She actually went back into the guest room to find the mask she'd dropped, deciding a few minutes out she rather liked the anonymity it gave her, even though most of Skye had already seen what Ada had on display. It was easy to identify the petite apothecary, who stood 5'2 on her tiptoes, and had a goodly amount of padding where it mattered. She was a distinctive figure, dark curls piled atop her head, the choker that was now a bit looser now that a dagger had bitten into the fabric, but the blood-red ruby still glittered ominously, not even nicked despite the thin red line above it, where the knife had jumped from stone to flesh.She caught movement around the next corner, just as she shut the door very quietly behind her, nudging the mask back into place with an index finger between her eyes, her vision now rimmed in soft black shadows of feathers. (Alderman) There was no way to recognize him, of course, but the scent -- yes, that keen nose of hers would remember every scent. It was a powerful tool for an apothecary, and a damned pain when anything went from aromatic to rank. *

Alderman: The scent of musk mingled with the failing aroma of water on grass. Something else followed as man rose up from the primordial in order to ascertain success: Frankincense, either of religious or secular fame.An homage on the altar to some un-named God. He dared to move about the dark halls as one of the few visible entities. He'd blow out a candle above him with the whip of his sword to leave the sound of mayhem in his wake. Flesh being cut, a gut being shorn. White wings were spattered with bloodstands, and his hair as white as heaven's glow swung languid behind him. Lucifer led a revolt against God, falling from heaven. The path of broken ruby wearer and angel wings brushed, and black feather to his white was an almost intimate caress. Did he know? He didn't seem to turn in order to kill her..but paused for a moment as if to recall a moment in time he favored this evening. To Ada, her name unknown he remarked "You smell..inviting. It will spare you. Move. Madame." While he wouldn't slit the pretty throat he himself had kissed (masks hide things, alas) his minions would come pouring from his left side, in Ada's direction (d)

Rhiannon: Oh, he'd hit her and it'd hurt yet it hadn't been enough to make her cower! Actually all it'd done was split her lip and stain the man's white glove even more. "Enjoying hittin' your women? Don't figure you get them in your bed any other way." She yanked the dagger out, slashing his arm as he tried to strike her and then blessedly the man was gone! Taken care of by a woman that made Rhiannon's blue eyes widen as he went through a glass wall. "Thank you my lady. Fabulous evening is it not?" And she did the most absurd thing...she curtsied. Then wiped the blade on the dress of a dead woman- she wouldn't be bothered by the stain. (d)

JC: <JC> Dark eyes would pass over the man, without conviction in his face, but as he came to the side of Claramae he would press a gloved hand to her shoulder. "We have gone this far, Ma Cheri', Is it not proper?" He was ready to die if the need did rise, and soon he would correct his stance fully ready to kick this man's ass with his cane. Deichenhause would find himself under attack, by a man who wore as much clothes as the one to his left, and was armed much the same. It was a different man that moved under the fire of night in the greatroom that had once been his doing. His motions were fluid, the draw of his blade there in it's case in his cane, and soon rushing forward. (d

OnlineHost: NocturneSansFin rolled 1 10-sided die: 1

<Pere> Flat out punched the guy. Rivnor
NocturneSansFin rolled 1 10-sided die: 10

: Deichenhause: He would feel a rather pleasant evening breeze move past him as if he'd taken a stroll in some fair garden. He seemed to take a moment to pause, access his man's weapon. Silently, he lifted his finger and moved it as to scold him as his rapier would cross with it, moving to leave a good knick across the face. He then would open out his suit, unleashing three pearls that bounced once and then exploded, leaving acrid smoke in his wake. (d)

Rivnor: Crippled beyond reason, he lay laughing at his lot in life. Always the simplistic one of the three, always the one whom was muscle over that stuff called brawn , Brawn would be his undoing, as his 'glass jaw', let alone his face, shattered under the weight of Peregrine's hand. With his death, however, his minions began to move in odd patterns across the auditiorium...

Pay Attention: In the auction room, stone would pull aside as the axes rose back into the ceilings. From the open holes would come cherubs holding crossbows that shot five bolts each. Ready, aim fire! In the Ballroom: The acrid smoke was sucked into the mouth of golden fish, returning the blows with darts! In the hall, Lucifer took up one lamp imparticular, making the lights all begin to go out save the occasionall..unforseen..explosion!


Claramae: "Ah, My Lady, merely another night. These things..always a routine.." A roll of hand was met with the curtsy for this was all good time to exchange pleasentry! But now, it was time for a cold dish of revenge! Jean made a move but it was for naught, and now Claramae pulled them backwards to avoid the fray of smoke! (d)


Rhupert: Another goblet of strong drink replaced the previous and still he drank. He sauntered into the Hall, glass drinking vessel in hand and looked over to see Ada there. "Have a drink? Good for the spirit. Spirits for the spirit. " He held a bottle of good Scotland whiskey in his other hand. "Maybe we ought to head on out of this place? I got a nice room in the inn.." Winks at her.(d)

Comte deChagny: The Frenchman nearly balked at the cherubs that would descend from the ceiling! He huffed, "This must be a play -- and a badly written one at that!" As evidence? Firstly, he villain of this act had been overly fond of monologues. Secondly? The overly elaborate death traps! He grumbled, "Let us hope these are as easily escapable as those shown in the plays!" Still, the Comte did not make for the exit! While he had claimed his deeds to the island, he still had a rather nice pair of boots and Jisella to collect! As he made his way toward where he had last seen the women kept, he would take a swipe of his blade at any of the short, pudgy winged horrors that got near enough! (D)

Ada: "Why thank you, I crafted it myself." She tapped the nose of her mask with one finger, but any further reply was stilled as she nearly fell back on the nearest wall, seeing his minions pour in. Horrified, she swallowed hard, but repositioned her fingers on the candlestick. Did he know yet she had pilfered the key from his pocket, and that it was now nestled safely in the black bag hidden among the equally black layers of silk? Likely not, or he would forget manners, and kill her himself. "It is a trade, a skill, a ... talent." She slid away from the wall for just a moment, and trailed her hand along his shoulder. Did it bring back memories? Fingers up under the chin, before sliding gracefully away -- Ada didn't always know what she was doing, but she had luck in at least appearing as if she did. "Ah, the monk from the masque! I'm terribly sorry, I have forgotten your name, but you will forgive me," she said, her French accent particularly thick, but she was understandably in a hurry. "I do not take spirits; I tend to find physical exercise relieves me of my stress. Care to go for a run?" She turned andthrew the candlestick at the nearest of the cronies, grabbed Rhupert's arm, and whether the thing connected or not -- Ada was not staying around to witness. *

Rhiannon: Oh, one could never forget the pleasantries even when facing possible death! Yet just when one thought something could not get any worse...well, they usually ended up eating their words. Rhiannon's lovely lips circled in horror as innocent looking fish became dangerous. "What now...? Oh, Lord above! Not even one break hm?" Rhiannon ducked as a dart flew at her, narrowly missing, and she cursed her luck for coming tonight. "Next time I think I'll take my chances with those blokes at the dock." Muttering to herself as she stayed down, crouched behind a toppled table. That was until she spotted some ninny of a woman go flying from shelter beneath a table in a panic. No wonder some men had the urge to slap hysterical women. She was going to get herself killed...glancing around hurriedly, Rhiannon finally yanked a slipper off another corpse...aimed...and bam! The woman fell as it made contact with her head but at least she'd live to see- "Oh you have got to be...that's not right..." As the tile the woman fell on rotated and poof gone... "Well...I'll be damned." (d)

JC: He cursed himself, but soon took of his jacket once the smoke cleared. No..he was an angry man now. One who had walked through the fires of hell, he would wait for her, take up her end but launch an attack of his own. He was out of practice, for this he was certain. Where was that wine? Looking towards Deichenhause he would raise his cane in proper fencing manner, to salute and challenge. "So tell me..do you take pleasure in bringing flowers to their knees? Surprised to see her alive? Non..let us do this right, like gentlemen." Jean-Claude would raise his gloved hand, the pearl glinting in the light as it was undone, and pulled away slowly like a peep show he would pull it away from skin that would bring forth anyone's bile in their stomach. Scarred and burned, it looked like open sores, and skin too thin over white bones..but he did walk slowly up, to 'backhand' him. (d

NocturneSansFin rolled 1 10-sided die: 5

With his glove of course. (d

Diechenhause: For the first time since their interlude someone spoke a language the man understood. Gentlemen? He remained in his place, watching as Jean-Claude advanced on him, revealing a malady that touched his dual colored face. Half Black, half white, it moved to one side with the force of the blow (hit of choice! Duel challenge slap turned head!) and turned around, nodding. He sought to bow, then he would reach up for the mangled limb and throw Jean-Claude over his shoulder, if his footing wasn't spry enough

Rhupert: "Just call me Brother Lovelock." The painted on smile on his current mask crinkled at the ends. "Let's do it! Run, that is." He kept the whiskey bottle in his hand and gave his arm to Ada, to escort her on the fast pace, run away or retreat, call it what you will. "Lady? Give me a token, a hankie a bit of cloth? I need to stopper the whiskey bottle." He had noticed that his coat sleeve had caught a slow spark, it was woll so the flame did not flare, yet. "Now if any get too close to us running, I intend to cover our exit with a Turas Lan coketail. Incredible waste of whiskey but necessary." He stuffed the hankie into the bottle, ready to light it with his burning coat sleeve edge. "Are we away enough to cause a good explosion now?" he hefted the bottle in his other hand, the sleeve there not afire. (d)

Alderman: He found himself a perch amidst the curtained back drops of either tunnels of lowered city to watch the mayhem ensue. Ah, he would have to ensure that one with the priest made it out alive, wouldn't he? Two for what he wanted. His own men were expendable. Doubtless, he enjoyed a bit of action. He leveled a suitable pistol shot in the head of one of his associates. Never mind the dead man would stumble into the switch that would trigger a rather large glow in the halls. Behind their backs? A wall to wall chinese light show as fire crackers shot. Ah well, it was supposed to be for amusement before the murders. (d)

Claramae: "How dare you lay a hand on my associate!" The lady would find the genteel approach blighted by Deichenuase's action, but sought to return favor to favor as she turned up the back of her hand in hopes of pulling it hard across his face. (d)

(assisted roll took place as same time 9 was rolled, so the hit was placed at a 6 for even measure. Hard hit, but not critical)

CaptainJackFlynn rolled 1 10-sided die: 2
Set In Her Way rolled 1 10-sided die: 9


Diechenhause: Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and for whom the back was carved certainly had her place among the furies! That hand sent him stumbling back, narrowly missing one of the poisoned darts! (d)

Comte deChagny: What the hell was this?! Now the walls were shooting at him! "No pair of boots is worth this much!" He grumbled, ducking a stray shot from a roman candle. As the French Comte ducked another stray bottle rocket, he at last managed to find Jisella amongst the other ladies who had been auctioned off, grabbing her hand. There were no orders to meet him at the city cathedral come done, instead he grabbed her hand and barked - "Run!" Better to run and go with him, then stay here and die! The pair made a hasty retreat. (D)

Ada: "I ... do not think ... that will be necessary," Ada offered unhelpfully in French as things began to explode. And then a great deal of unladylike cursing in her native tongue, as that was how it was best done, as she picked up the candlestick that had misfired and tried again. Her aim, she knew, was not particularly good, but what she lacked in skill, she made up for in desire to hit someone about now. This night was frustrating in the extreme, and was it too much to want to find her way back to the guest bedroom and the bedsheet rope and go home as she was supposed to have done? Likely. Life was always more complicated whenever she got involved. (Alderman)
*

Infinite Storms rolled 1 10-sided die: 3

Ada: "Well. That wasn't what I intended." *

Alderman: Explosions, disintegration of the social order of a high kept world all around him. The man whom made punja lasso's emerge from walls, whom made blood vanish at the snap of his finger did not expect a candlestick to touch him as if it were the tap of an old friend. He turned, arching a brow under his disguise at the source of the projectile. His smile was nearly beautiful. If only grace were not so damned, as Lucifer had been. "Madame. You have not yet moved, or quick enough. Does the priest stand to watch miracles unfold?" He regarded him with bottle of Whiskey, enflamed arm once. "Again. Move." The music in his voice became a quiet, feral snarl that sent shivers down the spine. He moved into the darkness, all together gone. (d)

Rhiannon: The loud pops made Rhiannon gasp, body jerking in fear, as breath was drawn shakily. Many as yet fought even with the insanity of flying darts! Even now a green masked man stalked toward cowering women, unbothered by the objects that could hit him. As if he wasn't phased? "Perhaps he was dropped on his head as a child...or has just lost his mind.." More likely the latter considering the situation. Biting her lip, thoughtful, she gripped the dagger as he came near where she crouched before lodging it deep within the back of his leg. He fell to one knee only to quickly find a pin, drawn from her hair, thrust into his eye and then dagger pulled to spill blood from throat. Oh, look...more blood on her gown...ah well. She motioned for the ladies to flee now. (d)

Pere:The arrows fell like rain, striking harshly into his arm he would hiss and roll to his back. His bow was not far, nor was his return. Quickly he would pluck the arrow from his arm and notch the return. Whimpering
as he realized his own hit, and would move away quickly. He would find a quiet dark place to hide, if only to regain his senses and apply pressure to the wound. From the hidden place in the room he would look out through the open door down the hall for his way out. He would meet up with Ada, find JC, and get his wife back from the ocean.

Jean-Claude: There was a wildness to him, madness in his own right. Jean-Claude's stand alone nature had fallen away until even the whites in the Dr's eyes were black with his evil. This was what saw him burned in Paris. This was what needed protected from the outside world. He should be locked away inside some tower, like a rare book that was placed on the highest shelf, but as the fight would rage on here too was a man sick of the destruction caused by his enemy. He had won Janice, fairly, and now fought for their freedom without personal reason save for the balance of a return attempt. Let his be the last..He prayed striking once more.

NocturneSansFin rolled 1 10-sided die: 1

D: These battles were his favorites, the sort where he could climb inside the head of his adversary. Already he thought to himself freak, misplaced, lost son, unsure....all from a few minor swipes. He would shrug off the strike before reaching out to both of them, or all of them we shall say. Jean-Claude... with a bow before he sought to upper cut him. To Claramae, a kiss to the hand perhaps...before moving to throw her toward the glass if it were to be so and to Rhiannon..ah, sweet rose of the sea..he aimed one of his concealed daggers for her thigh..(d)

Rhupert : "How about a blessing with Holy Water?" The holy liquid of whiskey. He was going to throw the lit bottle anyway. He lit and tossed it, trying to drag Ada away with him, calling after to Alderman, "Bless you Brother!" Urging Ada to keep pace. "I am going to get us out of here! We have light for the halls. My sleeve is still burning..and I would like to get back before my friggin armpit burns!" The smile was only painted on now; he had his track shoes on, so to speak. "I am out of here!" (Alderman)

Alderman: The priest earned his glare as he moved to make ready for an attack. Perhaps he would not spare the holy idiot, but whom would be the fool now? The blessing scorched into the arm of his costume, melting the fabric, taking at his side! He cried out, rolling incesantly to be done with the fire but to find it did leave a rather nasty mark on his side, marring his flawless physique with a scalding pink mark with puckering skin! Holding his exposed side he notice something of value..absent there. "The key to the vaults! The vaults of the nunnery and monastery.." He muttered.."The god forsaken key, where is it! A great much hinges on that!" (d)

Claramae: "Ah, Madame! Look you to the left!" Slim hand launched one of her hair combs, a three pronged short throwing weapon so it carved through the mask, lodging at the top of a masked man's head. "Two more, to your left!" Her central fight was going not well! In due time she found herself tossed into the glass! It would splinter, causing the wall to make un-nerving crackling sounds. Upon rising, red blossomed from a still unhealed scar jutting at her hip, staining the dress red there. Upon seeing her blood shed, again..she screamed! Rising up, she ran at Deichenhause as one of the floor panels was opening up...

: Set In Her Way rolled 1 10-sided die: 9

D: "Can't stand the sight of a little blood...pet... only the beginning. All of those years ago, I remembered how the old master looked at you, as they all did. Remember, in Paris? Just beyond gardens of the nunnery near Avignon.Come to me again..like you did when we buried the Heart...." And so down he would go, her body weight sending him over the unexpected edge with his voice echoing in his absence. He held her! It seemed she too would descend to her death in some poetic fashion..but wouldn't you know, Madame Death herself was not ready to be ended. She hung on the edge of the open space..pulling herself upward. (d)

- Rivnor and Diechenhause are dead! The Ballroom and Auction room open by way of one of the cracked glass walls shattering, taking the divider with it. The hall is now open, and it seems all seek to exit through it! The theater is crumbling! - The hall is open, and the minions there on the way out! Resume! -

Ada: Ada hurried along beside the monk, but was so relieved she had to blink back tears when she saw Pere. It was certainly time to go, and she followed Pere out wherever he led. There was no reason to stay if the walls were crumbling,too, but she had to ask if he knew where Jean-Claude was. Regardless, they were outside when she asked it, and there was no going back in -- Pere wouldn't permit it, particularly not since she had been sneaking along the hallways when he'd told her to leave earlier. But wait until she told him about the key! *

Rhiannon: Attention was brought to the scene where three fought- the lady, the master- the latter whom she needed to thank for that pin and still owed a dance too. Cringing at sight of his missed hit to the villain, and then her attention stolen by shouts from the Lady herself. Rising swiftly, a chair grabbed to swing at one man and make connected with his face. Upon its dropping her dagger met with his neck and the ribs of the other who approached. That one would have found himself dead if not for a slight distraction- the sound of splintered glass grabbing blue eyes as the Lady slammed into it and then a scream- from her own lips amazedly- as pain jolted through her thigh. Crumbling to a heap, cursing heatedly, she eyed the dagger lodged in flesh. "Ah, I told him not to be hurt and here I am hurt!" Looking up now with a fierce glare on this twisted villain, she was about to curse at him when he was knocked into a hole! "Serves the bastard right..." Though the sight of the Lady's possible death brought a gasp as Rhiannon dragged herself that way, painful as it was, and then...everything went aright! The tides turned... "Oh thank the Lord!" (d

Jean-Claude: Jean-Claude came quickly to her side, pulling her back from the hell she had just sent Lord Diechenhause, just as he had pulled her from the drugs that took her. "Come, Ma cher," He spoke tenderly, helping her to her feet, "We must go. Quickly now..easy." She had been hit, but not hard. "The roof will come down above us." He was worried for this, looking out over the empty space making sure none else were to be found. Ada was safe, Pere had taken her..or so he thought, and Janice was tucked away.

Pere: "You..were..supposed to be..gone." He was turning colors in the face, as they rushed down the hall. His body was in a cold sweat, as he realized they must have been drugged--the arrows. "You didn't listen." He smiled pushing forward but once the cold air hit him he stumbled a little. "Henbane.." He smiled again watching the white pulp rise. "I'm going to ruin your shoes." Something obviously Jean-Claude had gotten onto him about, or was it Shaden? He hardly knew, the world was spinning until he was on his back in the snow. There Claramae..dept paid, time to hold his hair back. (d

Rhupert: Jenks took off his jacket and ran for the exit, with some good success, only to look around and see Ada watched as she followed Pere. He thought to himself, "No, I won't go there again, chase after someone else's woman. I wish I'd kept the bottle." He was doomed to a hangover from hell, striking next morning in his lonely inn room. (d)

Claramae was not a passive thing to be escorted. If he would fall, she would help to lift him up. If a venue was seen safer than the floor, she led him along the jutting ledges the way a cat leads another, as if she were both their body and tail. At the mouth of where the journey began people collaborated together. Survival. Shock. Elegance? It's fate would be subject to her hand releasing a hidden rope? Where did it go, this place they had walked to, laughed in, danced at? In one fell swoom it was being flooded and carried out to sea. For you see, the Theater and all with it had been built near the coasts, in deep carverns where the tide had been forced away uless it was needed. No city structure was harmed, and in fact the citizenry would comment of the strange phenomenon of an earth-shake that would rumble the floor of taverns where folk drank hearty, or a home where people slept? Cherubs,floors, secrets, and all were washed into the ocean..treasure at the bottom of the deep. (d)

-- The End --[/color][/font]

[Master Claramae St. Laurence]

-After the Masque: Signs of Hope -
We are, despite outward appearences, a family.

Janice: "Master Laurence, here, let me? You shouldn't exert the efforts of all that well gotten rest.." The young were supposed to care for the elder, afterall. No, it wasn't that the elder were incapable of doing it themselves, but with a chance to finally follow without fail old advice, Janice would humbly help wait on the preservers of her life hand and foot. "Only if you will sit down with me, come, tell me of your plans. We are so close to the end that you, child, should consider what the future holds for a young lady of merits" The future. Never did the two words sound so right when put together. Never had they sounded so liberating as they did in the wake of what should have still set her mind ill at ease. No, it wasn't entirely finished, but enough of it was that the light towards the end of the tunnel could be seen! Laurence House as it was called from the street had what it hadn't in many months. A lamp shining on the front steps. Several, infact, swinging from her stately walls. The air thickened with the scent of baked breads and the promise of a supper that wouldn't go to waste! An adjective that could be used , cozy, did not stand wrong at ease hereabouts. While Claramae took the cup of tea Janice had poured for her, enjoying the chance to rest both worn feet on a foot chair, Janice settled in the one opposite. She watched as with a crookedstick so she would not over-reach, Claramae pulled one of the many parlor chords, stoking the fire. (d)

Dora: Along the way the serving woman came walking, a basket over one arm, her little boy running circles about her, talking non-stop and pointing to a building. "Ye want to go there, do ye Loomis?" "Pray tell why? I cannot tell for the life of me what you be about, eh?" Dora humored the child and went where he was leading her. "knock on the door? I ain't sure that be polite." (d)

Jean-Claude: His days had been busy, just as he liked it. Put away upon a high shelf he had been for too many years, in the belly of a pirate ship, Jean-Claude lived in the present; with little worries of the future. A humbled man, from his early years. As a child he was a spoiled son of French society, living in various homes across the countryside, attending any and every school, and flattering the public with a wide eyed outlook on the world. A much different man stood at the door, to the Ebony Hall; one that did not wear his wealth on his sleeve..though they were perfectly tended to, but in his heart. He was the man that came from good breeding, and stable manners. Many lashes across his whipping boy's back had taught him to hold the door, to speak out when spoken to, and to never be any less. "Bonsoir, Mademoiselle." Somewhere something had gone wrong, a life stripped of title, rank, and even his pride. His voice was quiet, a hiss across the cold winter's eve--haunting. Smoke colored eyes, as dark as his hair could chill the bone if taken in the wrong light, but as they fell into the Lady Dora; there was only kindness. "Come..let us get you from the cold." Well rehearsed manners indeed, and he would even extend his free arm leaving his other hand to lean on the thin cane that would be his better step. (d

Janice: "Oh, there is much to tell..oh, look. There are guests? Should I go to see them in?" Claramae found it refreshing that despite the descent of decadent, death stained opulance in to the sea, Janice had it in herself to remain a beacon of light in an otherwise uncomely, sad world. A nod was given with what she thought might have even been a smile from the Master. They now sojourned in one of the lower level parlors, of which there were three of various size. From the second, neither too large nor too small, she peered round yonder corner. Of bright hair and bright eyes now, the awkwardness was absent from the enthusiasm. While one of the pages took any given cloaks or items at the door, Janice awaited them at the beginning of the hallway. All they had but to do was embark on a short climb of three steps from the large foyer dividing itself into many directions. She curtsied, "Good evening, Master Jean-Claude, and to you, Mistress! I remember you from one evening in the Cat's Eye, and well. Welcome to Laurence House. " An invitation into the Ebony Hall would have sounded not as inviting. Still, if an angel waited for you could it be all that bad? "Master Laurence is in the parlor, just this way." (d)

Dora: There was nothing beyond what Dorie would do for her child, the last rose of summer, the longed for impossible her son Loomis, so cute, so bright and loving was merely an average child with an intellelect just starting to overwhelm."Thankee, my good man." Lynch nodded appreciatvely to Jean-Claude and tood her child by the hand. " I just come to call, since we walked this way. I had wanted to come back for such a long while." Dora was polite. Loomis just wide eyed gawked as if he had to take it all in and hold onto the memory of today. (d)

Jean-Claude: From a home where wine ran as thick as blood, and much the same Jean would be convinced hers was the rarest. The little light in a dark place, could warm the hearts of thousands with such a smile. Janice held such power, and at the side of the right man would marvel the world at her feet. These were the thoughts that passed him as he watched her in his silent wondering, as well what side of her family those bright eyes did pass. He would keep quiet, as they walked feeling himself an aged man with child, and mistress one one arm, and rhyme and reason at the other. He kept his distance by way of word for merely one reason--he could not find his voice in matters as simple as this. He had come to see Claramae or so he told himself, with science in one hand, and his bag of medicine in the other. Such topics were not meant for strangers, but after tonight perhaps they would leave that title behind. (d

Janice: "It is good to have visitors again! Please come, this way...Master Laurence is doing famously. You will be pleased, after everything she's finally sat down. In fact, I don't think I have heard her sound so..well..so...well..I hope it doesn't sound impertinent, but like a person." No, in fact it made her chuckle. "What brings you, Mistress Dora? It is good to see you though. I was just telling the lady about how you bested Peregrine that night.." She offered a warm smile for Loomis, coming up behind them only for a moment as she offered the small boy a candied nut. Her pocket, alas, was filled with them as they indulged in the well-won victory of just being. On the edge ofthe doorway, what was to be expected but risen Claramae to greet the guests? She was indeed dressed (though not corseted, the bandages did that well enough, no?) thick cottons and brocade, to be laced at the sides. Her hair was, suprisingly, left hanging in shining brown waves save for a small section twisted in a bun. --

Claramae: "Janice told me we were to have company, after so much sitting tis only proper to rise to greet them. Welcome, please, won't you all come and have a seat? Something warm, to ward off the chill of the outside?" Madame Death did not look in the mood to cause the mayhem of her name, nor did she seem to hold up the austere posistion of Govenor, nor even that of Baroness. Merely that which was good for the time. Being female. Being herself. Just being. (d)

Dora: Loomis stood back, for his good manners so hard won in the ongoing stuggle with his true energetic self. "Ah yes. I lost me best shoes in that game." she could not repress a laugh. "Serious, Lady, I am in need of employment, as me Clovis is going off to hunt in the north, where he come from. And he is taking the boys with him. I cannot live alone; tis safer to find me live in work." Loomis grinned and nodded anthank you as he accepted the candied treat. Then she offerd forth the basket in hand,"Please. Try some of me baking. Scones and bread and cakes. See? And I clean as good as I bake." Dora would ask here, then if that did not work out, ask at the Lily. (d)

Jean-Claude: "And Pere' has your shoes?" In the heat of his smooth anger did his French accent truly come to play, savoring the sounds that could be mistaken for words of poetry had they not sounded so damn annoyed. Jean-Claude had found his seat with ease, on the edge of the sofa with his gloved hands propped over the large ruby on the tip of his cane. A king to his throne..an annoyed King. He was appalled at the thought, as he felt sure the pirate would have given them back. He would even wager they were the ones strung up in the tree on the walk between his home and the Lily. "Madam..I beg you, come by my shop, I shall fit you for shoes..among other...things." A dark brow would rise over his pale face, where thin lips would turn into a small frown seeing her hem had come undone. "Can you sew?" He asked Dora, breaking from his thoughts that had in that very same moment ventured onto Claramae. He had never seen her hair down before..not once. First her back and now this? By spring they would have three children if such antics kept up. Though in silence his eyes met hers canting his head only enough to ask of her well being, had her stitches bothered her, or did the medicine that was of his own mixture hit hard in the night as he had thought? (d

Janice: "But Miss Dora, I thought you kept household for the Engineer? So it is said in court, and I oft saw you with her, when Lady Rosalind would give me instruction.." Whom would not want to keep a hearty soul such as Dora Lynch about them? She turned full ear, full heart to her elder as youth ought, listening to the times that would send her husband away with her children, "Oh why yes, it never does as a woman to live entirely alone. No!" She shook her head emphatically, taking one of the scones from the basket when offered. She peered inside to see what wonders came. For an instant, for just an instant, her eyes moistened with tears that didn't spill. Good, funny, straight laced Lotte. Carlotta was gone, wasn't she? It became real that it had been some weeks since Carlotta had been prayed over, prepared, and buried in a part of the garden she tended herself. Composing herself with a breathe, she bit into the bread and found comfort. "Mm! This is delicious, Miss! Won't you come and sit down, though? You ought not talk about it standing up. Here, you take my chair, this one here. Your son can have this stool..I will just fetch myself a new seat.." --

Claramae: The cant of head acknowledged his skilled hand in medicine was rewarded with a living, viable patient whom followed advice (for once) after the ball for before she had kept what the Healing Horse and him endorsed, but naturally whathealing had come 3/4 of the way had been undone by 1/2 with all manner of leaping about. "Wine or tea...Jean-Claude." If he leaned closer, he was not decieved. His given name, his Christian one, had been stated with no cushioned title for or aft of it. As she listened to the conversation twixt the two women beside them, she considered how posistions were opened here. Lord, so many were opened. If the good had not died, then they had betrayed them. "Janice was just about to tell me of her plans for the weeks ahead, you've arrived at a fine time." (d)

Ursula: Why would anyone want to escape the cold outside? It was perfectly lovely. To a bear...but to those training hard trying to master the course set up in the darkness, the exersion of bodies heaving to mount and flip walls, climb towers and scale angled boards meant to simulate roof top running. The exercise despite the weather cleared her head, allowed her to to tire herself out so the emotions she felt didn't bubble to the surface. Marke was mad at her for leaving the manor, not anything new to her ears but everything else was like a weight tied to the ankles while she sank to the dark abyss of the sea, forgotten. It wasn't just Marke, it was everything, noviates died left and right and she had been ordered out of the way by Alen and had never been released. Though she wasn't a woman to take orders and not bend or break them, she wouldn't disappoint Alen and yet he has disappeared. She'd lost track of how long it had been since she had seen it. It made a difference, him being the only soul she trusted apart from Marke, no offense to anyone else, it was a survival instinct in her. To bear nothing, to show nothing and to never trust someone complete. Still one could only push the body so far till throat and lungs ached with the icy chill of the air and she retreated inside. Lucky her training gear could be stored here while she redressed in her gown and fixed her hair. Now the chess board made sense. The Queen watched while everything around her was sacraficed for her survival, left with nothing and no one, one side always lost, one piece always cast down to rock and sway still coming to a dead stop, or just dead. Perhaps that was why Alen had ordered her out of harms way and she knew so little. Or perhaps it was just because her demise was so close with the church accusing her of being a witch and devils whore. All of it though, didn't matter, not when the mask slid into place at the sound of voices while she moved into the main foyer and over to the sitting room where they all reclined.*

Dora:"Oh Yes, sir. I sew and garden, as well. I am good with the kitchen due to growing me own herbs and vegetables. " She tried to cover her foot wraps with the end of her skirts. "The engineer, she moved to Lake Manor with her husband I were good since Clovis and the boys were to home. But he got to go hunt, in the ice lands for furs and me; I be alone for a bit. I would appreciate shoes that fit good, but I cannot pay until I get me work." Dora sat on the chair, feet tucked out of sight and thanked with a nod. Loomis climbed to a seat and thought himself such a grand young man, all smiles to everyone, especially to Janice. "I live near marketplace, for now. At the firewood vendors. I miss Mistress Aegraine, she were like a child to me. But I do need me work and they got help already at the Manor." Dora had not asked there, it being away from town so. (d)

Jean-Claude: "I would not expect payment from you..Pere' when he is well, will be making those payments." For shame. Of all the rotten her shoes to the devil? He would make Peregrine pay, in leaving him be if only for one night so he could work without interruption. "And when I say sewing, I do not mean a quick stitch, Madam, but thousands of fine close stitches on a single piece alone. The work is not easy, but it does pay well." He could fetch high prices, enough to pay his rent for a single year in one gown alone, but this was the blessing of an economy fresh from war; where victory feastswere a many, and the window space was priced low. He turned much revenue from the Lilys alone. "Given of course you can find a keeper for your son?" Who enchanted Janice, and it was clear children simply were not his favorite. Like a fine wine, they had to be acquired.."Tea." He broke from his thoughts moving his eyes from the child to Claramae, where he smiled--that almost eerie pull of his, "Please." His eyes then went to the door, where a woman he had only known in passing would make her entrance, and after all the greetings were said and done--he would listen for Janice's plans, very curious. (d

Janice: "Master Peregrine should be ashamed! Oh, fye. He wasn't struck hard enough with water or the good book." That terrible, shoe stealing, man! Wager or no, a gentlemen would give shoes to the less fortunate for he obviously wantedfor naught! She simmered on that ideal but could still find little to ultimately fault him for. Oh, he was a rogue, but he meant well in enough things to be somewhat redeemable. If God could save the lowest upon his Earth than even Peregrine could stand to have a place in heaven. "You are very good at keeping a house. You remind me of all that my maman could do, the nuns, and myself. Nothing is closer to God than cleanliness, warm bread, and a good hearth." --

Claramae: "Tea it is. Thank you for coming to see us this evening. Could you stand to be happily content by the fire and suitably bored with dull, plain coversation?" The jest was dry but not without its wit, given life had been anything but the chance to sojourn by the fireside with cup in hand. As she sought to pour the beverage, it was plucked up gently from her hands by the Bavarian whom now wore her famous two bun coif as one braid round her head now, with an ornamental flower to hide the still terribly disjounted length of hair. Nothing could persuade Bromheilde to cut it herself, heaven forbid. "Here's your tea, sir, and you, Madame." In English no less! Her face wore only the slightest hint of the violent beating, but the woman was Bavarian. Pride, regularity before all else. Claramae shook her head softly, tempted to laugh! She looked up to where Jean's eyes went to find her wall companion of one day long since passed when the beginning promised a mighty future. Ah, how times did change! Still, there was some home for the lot of them. "Ah, good evening, Miss Darling. Monsieur, this is Miss Ursula Darling, you may both be acquainted in passing. She is among us, as you may see. Please, come sit m'lady .We were enjoying the fire and company. Since Bromheilde will not allow me to do it, she will serve you wine or tea, as you like..." Upon listening to the offer of employment to Jean-Claude's grand vision of clothing coutier, she could not help but ponder the extensiveness as it would pertain to here. "Good mistress, there is much to consider of employ if you wish it. Our home has lacked some mirth and half of its order in the absence of one our beloved Carlotta. She maintained order with Miss Bromheilde here, and Carlotta was also Janice's personal lady's maid. She also lent her fingers to monsieur on occasion, and kept decorum among the women in the service, and decency in the men. God rest her soul. You might fall somewhere well in Janice's plans.."

Janice: "Oh, I have kept you awaiting to here them. My apologies. There is a home being made ready for me near Bryante Row, just along the High-Street-At-Chapel, behind the Cathedral. Next to the home shall be a business! I should much like to be a book seller, as well as a supplier of things for intellects, and curious. As it is, I would currently be residing by myself, which as you know isn't proper for an unwed woman to do.." No matter what realm law insisted was applicable, there would just never come a time when the Order would allow its light to be without fair, suitable company. "Carlotta was the Reverand Mother I missed and the Aunt I never had before, my friend. I miss her everyday."..

Ursula: Her head inclined but did not rise, her eyes bearing into Jean as he glanced at her. Such a regal mask she wore upon her face, such darkness loomed in amber eyes against an alabaster face blank of emotion. The gown was of a thick material of gold and crimson pattern. Her head lifted again as Claramae introduced her. Pulling her hand back along her stomach and downward, she pulled the folds of her hem back as she moved within the room. "Good Evening" She seemed to sing in low voice noting the boy upon a stool and the woman beside him and Janice. She knew the girl though not well, a company of one but she had always meant it to be that way hadn't she? "Neither, thank you" She repliedto the offer of tea or wine, never a fan of either as she dipped her head at Bromheilde. It seemed much was going on within such a sort spane of time. An idea from one, a request for a job from another. Just another night in Skye.*


Danae: Danae had decided to make her way back to Ebony Hall. It seemed she'd been staying there more recently than usual. Reason for that was, things weren't quite the same with Alex gone. And even though he was back from the underground, now.. she continued to sleep in their bed most nights. They seem to continue missing each other. As she came in, he was leaving or vice versa. Time hadn't been on their side but it never was for anyone when people like them and the Order were faced with the dealings that had recently transpired. The Masquerade seem to have taken a lot out of everyone and for now, maybe it was time to regroup, rest and prepare for their next scheme. As the Commander entered and moved down the main corridor that lead to the second parlor, she heard voices. She asked a passing servant who was present and with the answer she received, Danae decided to join them. The ranger was dressed in her usual garbs soft leathers in an array of earth tone colors. As she emerged from the shadows and into the room, a nod was given to all that were present with a simple ``Evening.`` [d]

Dora: "I have maked the gowns that Lady Aegraine wears; undergowns and fine sewed ; me eyes see best close up; I be not so good with looking to the far end o the lane, however." Had she not made church vestments back in Ulster? " I am my best keeping house full time and sewing on occasion. In me time with the engineer, it was me being there so she could live almost like alone. A lady need a housekeeper, just tending the hearth fire need someone to home almost alltime and I done that for a while. If you wants me help. " Dora stood as she prepared to depart, " I be back around and we talk. You the first ones I asked, so you gets the first sayso." Dorie motioned and the child hurried to takeher hand. " Me name is Dora Lynch, from Firewood Vendor stall, at the sign of the tree limb, marketside place." She curtsied and those foot wraps showed no matter how she moved. " I say good eve to you all good folks, then." (d)

Jean-Claude: There was a small smirk that pulled on thin lips, that had him take the cup in his hand, "Though I have become rather fond of Henbane in my tea." His voice was quiet so that only she could hear, but his attention did return to the matter at hand. He had known Ursula if only in the memory of a drunk pirate, well..much the same as he had known of Claramae. He knew her as well from Shaden, but opted to remain silent playing the shy spider in his web. Times as were best spent in the company of his own thoughts, for behind her smile he could only thing of how a body forced the motion forward. It was very strange to have lived in society for so long, adjusting to the solitude and then returned. It made his chest ache and the little cup of tea feel rather foolish in his hands. He wasn't like them in any way, but he was not an outcast--at least not to his own right. He was not different, he was extraordinarily different. Even then he listened to Dora's steps, thinking of the structure of how she moved; not where. He knew the bones of a hip to be in a ball, but how could he transfer that into modern mechanics? Research was so limited, and frustrated him beyond belief, that every time he came close it all fell; From fires, to cave ins he had lost everything. Even his rough draft of his second script had fallen victim to the sea. Madness, really, this deadly man in black with his bad legs, and gloved hands. He listened to Janice give her ideas, what she wished, and felt fire hit his lungs harshly. "A book seller? Those that you wish to collect on your own, or have Monsieur Nathan gather for you?" The idea was brilliant really, if that was what she wished. He knew damn well, he would do everything in his power to see her dream lived out. Mr. Hyde came forth in that moment, until he took a deep breath and pulled down Dr. Jekyll's mask. "Perhaps Madam would be best suited for you. I think she would have happier fortune." It was far too crowded in his shop as it was. (d

Janice: "I will send one of the lads to find you on the morrow, mam, just before I will come to tell you more. Please be careful in the evening.." Fare the wells were exchanged, with instruction from a pair of eyes glancing upward into the silver evening. No harm would come to Dora Lynch, and this would proceed her introduction to a strange world where unseen eyes guaranteed survival. Once the door was closed and she returned, it was noticed others had joined them! Perhaps it was she had the luxury of focusing upon one person that made her blush with the error, but it was not without its charm, "Good evening, Miss Darling, and Lady R....Lady Danae." With place resumed, she began the tale of how a gentry girl inteded to do just so with substantial means to be of use. "Yes, a bookseller. Master Jean-Claude, what would make you wish to bring up Mr. Renquest? He has been gone for some time on his own errands, surely." Her face reflected a mixture of curious confusion and the voice a slight air of insult! Even the prideless took pride in something. "I have been in charge of the masters' books and letters for some time now, as well as theiracquisitions and curios. I am quite capable of obtaining my own items to sell, trade, or collect. Books are one thing you come to know in a nunnery, believe me." She smiled lightly, remaining composed. "I should like to have Miss Dora with me, if she should so wish it.."

Claramae: "And you are quite good at it, my dear, we could never seek to have a finer lady of letters than you. So you shall remain, even with your ventures, as I promised. Your skill with dead languages is on par none. If Miss Dora is a .. discrete soul, and can accept your lot, than I have no problem, for tis your choice. Given whom she has served she already understands the nature of unique beings..." Jean-Claude's remark on Renquest was viewed by a sideways glance for him to be kind on the matter. He ought know the poor luck the girl had with earlier ventures of courtship, and as it was entertained no further inclination on marriage whatsoever. There was sound coming from the east walls only the skilled or the crazed could fathom. "Ah, the noviates are home. God willing, more than five.." She came to standing, offering Janice the place to entertain the company of Jean and Danae while she fufilled the duty of seeing whom endured. Peaceful nights did not mean for all, nor was one so cokey as to venture all their luck would be that good. Would you imagine her surprise as she shut the parlor doors, only to find coming towards the hall now was the exact number their master hand sent forth? Indeed, it sounded right odd for such a mannered house. One could hear "What in the heavens is this about? What is the evenings.....OH a'mercy, put me down, at once! What has gotten in to the lot of you! Come, tell me now..and for the sake of pity put me down lest you undo my stiches!" (d)

Danae: Naturally, Danae would speak to those that spoke to her. ``Good to see you Janice, you as well Claramae.`` Said Danae as Claramae began to move off. Eyes shifted to the now closed doors as she eyed them for a long moment. Brows did arch in curiosity before she glanced to Ursla that decided not to stick around for whatever reasons. Then she looked to both Janice and Jean-Claude. She and him had not spent to much time together since she'd been on a certain pirates ship, and even though their paths crossed only on occasion, she respected him much more than most likely did. Eyes did leave the couple and looked back to the doors Claramae had disappeared behind, wondering on what in hadeswas going on. She hesitated in going to check it out... [d]

Jean-Claude: Jean-Claude was silent in that moment, listening to her with a small shake of his head, "Forgive me. I think it is a wonderful idea. If this is what she wishes." She had her whole life ahead of her, did she plan to spend it here? Leaning forward just a little he would nearly put his chin to his hand, "It was just that at your age I was always on the go, with studies, and a social life..it is hard to imagine such a..." He searched for the right word, "Set life. When you have the world at your fingertips." He smiled then correcting his posture and looking out to where Danae made her entrance. "Danae..how nice it is to see." His gloved hand came to wrap the ruby of his cane for support pulling himself up so he could seat her properly--as he had always done. Once he was seated again he would smile, with pride, "Janice, was just telling me of her new shop she intends to open. A good move if she is certain, a wise choice, and I could not think of any better." He would at least get to see her more, as his life at sea was beyond over. He had served the ship well, Danae could testify to that. (d

Janice: "It is. The sheer nature of the work is intensive studying, certain volumes would need their origins traced, of which surely would take me for occasional visits to new places. After all is put in order, why, I intend to see London and all the cities coming along in England, and Paris, no less! How much could one hope to study given my life in a cloister, my head forever lives in a book if it is not watching words be written, Master jean-Claude. Ah let alone curious!" Antiques and old things none fathomed the girl had a head for discerning origin, year of make, purpose, and all matter of other facts. She saw her masters well furnished in supplies when sent on her errands, requesting vials, bottles, and things of glass make from specific cities, and paper from certain plants. When Master Laurence wooped to be put down, she frowned her face. "What would ever inspire them to pick her up? That is plainly bizzare." The loosened hair was enough to become used to, but wooping about was enough to make one keel over of shock!

Claramae:"We're all back, Govenah!" "Oh, you've spoken with Master Vance again....well that is pleasing, truly it is..set me down!" "Tis a celebration!" "Of what? I will have you making paces on the course for days if you do not set me right!" She was put down, holding her poor aching sides as she held on to the lower banister as the world still spun. "We went out, n' we found them, few of those hench folk n' Mannering.." "You engaged HANZ MANNERING? Have you lost your." "His dead!" "He's...what?" "dead.." "Impossible.." It would take Voltaire showing her Manneringz blood stained garment and introducing her to the student whom stood with him to do it that actually made her scream aloud. It was then you could imagine Janice forwent any sense of door shut methods and was up like a shot. (d)


Danae The Commander stood for but a moment longer before Jean-Claude came to seat her like the gentleman she had always known him to be. ``Thank you Jean-Claude.`` she said as she began to take her seat to join him and Janice. ``I think if its truly what she desires, then it should come to be. There should be no limit on one's imagination, desire, or love... nor on all things good really.`` answered the ranger. The noise behind the closed doors grew, and Danae's nerves became increasingly on edge. She paused and looked from Janice and Jean-Claude before looking to the doors. Janice was soon up and through those doors, Danae of course on her heels. The ranger hadn't liked the sound of thingssince they first began and was relieved that she wasn't the only one that thought something was out of the ordindary. ``Jean!`` she called, just in case back up was needed for anything and to also have someone else beside her to: serve as a witness to whatever may come next. [d]

Jean-Claude: Jean-Claude felt strangely out of place here, as if they were all one family and this their celebration. He had thought himself watching through a window as they shared in this moment, a happy one he thought. He did however come to stand beside Danae, a gloved hand pressing against her shoulder as if to ease her. She always stood against reason, walking on edges, and hanging from a vine. He would wish to ease that from her at the core if she so needed, and good herbalist that could take the edge off. A victory was at hand, and for this he was thankful having never been a man of battle. This would be one last obstacle to come between his new friends, and their peace. "Perhaps something to celebrate?" He would slip a few pieces in the hand of one of the maids who would be instructed to send for a bottle of something a bit more proper then tea or wine. Hell, at this point if they wished he would arrange an entire feast to celebrate in all the big..and little victories. (d

Voltaire: Voltaire had the same enthusaism as his students but his dignity demanded they place the poor, recovering Lady of the household down, in order that he might pick her up himself! Put down again, the scream still echoed in his ears as he took her by the shoulders. "On the patrol we found where Mannering had sunk to. He engaged us, and it seemed his resource, too, was weekend after the masquerade. I promise you, Madonna. He is dead. Nothing but a shell remains of his operation. There are only two left in the chain now, before the Alderman." Names. Names that had haunted for years suddenly vanishing like a bit of dew in the morning sun! He walked over to Danae, clapping a hand to her shoulder, then to Jean-Claudes "And how, my friend. If you pardon me, I fully intend to have the Madame Voltaire in a fit." For kissing her in public? Quite! She scolded him with a huff but gave in, giggling even like a girl! Janice blinked. Did Danae or Jean-Claude join in? While the news was delightful the house had become...a home. "I have something for you, La Bella. It seemed Mannering had emassed a small collection of personal effects." He draped around Janice's neck a locket, to which she had not seen in some time. "Mama's locket? But...how did you.." So she became no better. She hugged the venerated old master with a fierceness! "And we have better news. With much of the choke holds at last lifting.. The rest of the Rose Order will be joining you, in two days, Madonna."

Claramae: "You mean...our forces. At last, our forces will be...enough, and more than. Oh my God. The lot of you, go, go! I will see them all promoted, Voltaire, and allow them whatever suits their pleasure this night!" (d)

Danae: Try as he or any other may.... few if any were ever able to ease the ranger in all ways that were not only needed at times, but perhaps selfishly desired. The confused look on the Grecian's face was evident. Mannering dead? Her thindark brows furrowed for a moment as she tried to accept it as it was. It was indeed good news and perhaps a celebration was most definitely in order. Slowly the worried and confused look disappeared and it was replaced with a morerelaxed and pleasant expression. The corners of her mouth were tugged tight and a wide smile did finally make its appearance. She stoo aside, watched as the novaites continued to celebrate, watched as Voltaire even seem to ...act entirely different than she knew him to. Everything had just been turned upside down, but for once... in a very good way and this pleased the Commander. [d]|

Jean-Claude: He looked like hell walking through the secret door, a child who had just rolled from bed. His hair was wild atop his head, and even the scent of a deep peaceful slumber remained. He perked only as he watched the keepers of his thishall carry forth a sparkle drink. Ears perked listening to the conversation going on outside the hall, this place full of so many secrets..wasn't as fun since they let him find them out. His motives however were clear, the contents of the Frenchman's breast pocket, the bit of healing herbs that helped with hang overs were wrapped in a small envelope, and dumped in an abandoned tea; he cared very little to whom it belonged. What were they celebrating now?

Jean-Claude: The Mad Scientist gave a small nod to the man Voltaire. He would give her a locket, and they would all get the gift of her smile. "A coup de théâtre, indeed Master Voltaire." He thought of how lovely the locket looked on such a long neck, and how it made her light. What was on the inside? Would she find the father she had known, or the one gave her life? The story was one he has played over in his mind many times since their last moment of peace. He cherished that she shared it so easily with him. Letting them all have their moment he would turn back to the pirate, watching him shiver through the after affects of the poison, but knowing full well he would survive. "Lady Ranger, please do feel a stranger. I would like to hear how this past year has been." In honest, he was a shut in, and his books had all been read a thousand times. One can only dangle the guts of frogs, and dead bodies before needing some sort of interaction. (d)


Claramae: "Master Voltaire, take your wife, the night and the subsquent pair of days after are yours. There is nothing so much in I need that another can not find if I really must have it..please. It is the least of what can be done for you.

Danae: Danae wasn't one for jumping, hooping, hollering and screaming... alright, at least not for celebrations, but that didn't mean she wasn't as thrilled as all the others. Whole she let her eyes linger on all others for a moment It was when Jean-Claude spoke up and asked of how things had been going for her that had her ice blue eyes shifting in his direction. ``Things have been as they usually are. Difficult most days, but rewarding as always. Ren has retreated to the forest and the mountains as I am sure you are aware of. Sorschal and I are.. well.. we are who we are. There have been a couple things recently that's proven to be interesting.`` she'd leave it at that for the time being. Movement from the corner of her eyes caught her attention and she looked to see Perry sitting all by his lonesome with tea... a lift of her chin was granted to him and she wondered how the pirate was doing in his new roles in life. Danae looked back to Jean-Claude then and asked. ``What about you?`` [d]

Jean-Claude He listened intently, to each word she said letting forth come the truth on the entire matter. He did not know of Ren, nor did he she and Sorschal were an item? Did he court her as she deserved? "There have been many things as of late that have been...interesting. I still play mother to a band of misfits." He would motion to the pirate who had fallen asleep on the sofa. "He hates to be alone..perhaps his only fear..I have a shop on the lane now, I extend my offer of anything that you should need, or want of Lady Ranger..excuse me." He would bow his head to her, moving to the couch where the pirate was snoring, and cleaning up the mess as usual. (d)

Danae: Danae would listen as Jean-Claude told her of what he had been up to recently and nodded. ``Some things never change my friend... and perhaps they never will.`` she commented as her eyes hsifted over to Perry once more with a slight sadness in them. Hate to be alone... it still seemed that both she and he had and perhaps always would have more in common than either of them really knew. As Jean then spoke on the shop and of his services, Danae smiled genuinely and let a hand come to the mans shoulder with a gentle grip. A soft squeeze was made as she replied. ``Thank you Jean, if ever I need a dress for some special occasion, I will be sure to come to you. You should know though, I'm not one fond of dresses on a daily basis...`` she said with a slight smirk as she released her hold on his shoulder to let him move off. Her eyes followed him as she watched him clean up Perry's mess. Somethings never change, and perhaps they never will. [d]

[Master Claramae St. Laurence]

"...what we think we know is about to change.."

Leviathin: Origins and Full Truth
(formated by the creator of Danae)

Dante:

A never ending service indeed; but at least he was away from Italian and the region within the same vicinity. It was not long after the masquerade massacre that another letter had been delivered to him personally under the seal of a very old friend. Within the room in the local tavern--or one of them--the Italian broke the seal and read the contents inked upon the parchment. A meeting. ``Expect nothing less from 'Clarice'.`` He muttered in a mocking tone to himself as the letter was tucked in his black vest. Under the billowing white sleeves his special arm braces were fastened and gloves pulled on over long hands. It was still frigid in season, beckoning a cloak to be serviced. The thick, ebony fur lined cloak was tied and to Ebony hall he went. Seemed like it had not been so long ago he visited. The white mare was passed to a waiting hand as booted feet climbed the steps and entered the massive hall. It didn't take long to find Claramae; the woman had favored locations, after all. The ends of his cloak billowed and swirled around his long legs as he walked swiftly toward the meeting chamber and slipped inside. ``Have you nothing better to do, my dear Claramae, than beckon friends at such an un Godly hour in the day? Honestly.`` He said with a roll of his eyes, though his words were far from malicious. He found a chair and sat down, undoing the cloak from his seat. ``Pray it is important, Claramae, for I do favor some measure of restitution.`` Gloves had yet to be removed from his hands, leaving them to keep fingers warm for a bit longer.



Claramae:

"Under the consulting physician's orders, there is to be limited movement to aid in the fullness of my recovery. With that being said, ought not one entertain visitors? Second to that, you are entertaining enough. Thirdly, of course you shall be given restitution. When have you ever been under-paid? If the men of the Griffin's service knew what you were awarded for merely standing on two feet they would rebel." While the Griffin was renown for generosity to those in its service, it was inevitable that some were paid a greatly higher salary than others. No, they were not outwardly among the ranks of Generals, Marshalls, and elite Guardians but inwardly stood so among their councils. One ought be considered useful if one keeps the monarchy intact, or parliamentary monarchy, whatever the Mo'r Triath favored coloring his empire. Madame sat in a high backed chair with her feet lifted, about a slightly lowered table with another two chairs in one of three lower parlors. Heavy silk attired the 'dignified woman for whom full ailment was neither expressed with word nor for once entirely hidden. Her choice dress designed it was bandages that bound her upright, not corsets. "Come, sit. There is wine, there is tea." After the masquerade a strange phenomenon occurred, it was rumored she actually slept. Fast process of thought increased, and something was lifted from her shoulders (that could be told, after all, she was an odd creature)



Danae:

Danae was found amongst her men in a nearby tavern, enjoying a few drinks after a day of rounds and training. A man stepped up as if from out of no where, addressed her and handed off to her a piece of sealed parchment. Danae took it, opened it and read it. ``Time to come home.`` Her eyes shifted from the paper to her second in command and then back. The paper was folded up and tucked away inside a dark soft leather vest before standing to her feet, gathering her things and departing once orders had been given to Merick. She would arrive at Ebony Hall much more quickly than most and handed the reigns off to the stable keep. Majesty seem to disapprove of the short ride, but went willingly with the male. She entered into the Hall, wearing her usual ranger garb. Soft brown leather boots, mud colored pants also of a soft leather, the vest the same color as her boots and a long sleeve white tunic tucked in. The cloak was heavy, made to protect it's wearer from all sorts of harsh elements in the cold season. As she made her way in, she seem to pause, perhaps surprised to see one of the two people here. Neither of them knew yet that the other was part of the Order, even if they had learned both were well skilled. Her attention however turned to Claramae. ``I came as soon as I received word.`` she said as she moved further in. Gloved hands remained at her side as she came within speaking distance of both Claramae and Dante.



Dante:

Yet again, Dante rolled his eyes. If men of the Griffin's service knew what he did to earn his pay, men would shy away from the job as if it were fire. ``Hardly. If men knew what I did for my keep, they would tuck tail and flee. And they would soon think twice to revolt.`` He retorted plainly, glancing toward the table where wine, tea, and glasses were
stationed. ``You should know, by now, that material wealth and fortune has long since lost its glittering appeal.`` And with that said, Dante rose, leaving the cloak in the chair as he crossed the room and helped himself to a glass of wine. The sound of the door echoed and caught the attention of the Italian; more so when a familiar face wandered into the room. A sly smirk appeared on his lips as she announced her arrival rather...formally. He chuckled, finishing pouring the liquid into the goblet. ``Unfortunately so did I. Being a Black Talion leaves certain obligations to fulfill...no matter the hour of the day.`` He mused, turning back to his drink and lifting it. Back to his seat he moved, lowering his tall frame into the plush seating and relaxing as lips pursed to drink.



Claramae:

"It isn't as if we called you at some uncomely hour. Pay him no attention, Lady Danae. In these times Signore becomes unbearable." One would almost sense there was underlying humor in those words, to which then became when did the dry sense of humor moisten with bare hints of humanity? Ah well. Business was announced as all settled in "The masquerade was a success in many ways, the auctioned items now gives us keys to open several valves of information, and more importantly, it put a great many of our enemies in the same space. The final numbers are quite staggering for even a venture of this size, but we have annihilated a great deal, including two of Alderman's right hands. Which leaves us a final task to be accomplished later yet still soon. Sorschal still wants to annihilate Kryptmann and Krause. It is without saying, on a personal level, I concur." To have the opportunity to kill Diechenhause with her own hands was enough to restore some years of lost justice to the world, and unlock the cell of a piece of self taken several years ago. "As you've been gone, Dante, and since you have only of late sunk into the furthest levels we attempted to shield you from Danae, I wish to show you both something." She pulled on a braided rope above her head. The soft dong there after was from a bell that summoned an approach of someone on soft soled feet. As for herself, she rose to walk over to one of the shelves with a slight limp to her still odd, too silent steps.



Janice:

"I heard the summoning bell in the library, Master Laurence....oh! Good day, Lady Ranger, and to you, Signore da Favino.." Danae would recall, but Dante may have only had a fleeting introduction,



Claramae:

" Signore, you may remember Miss Viscreed, the young lady from our letters?



Danae:

After reading those words of Time to come home Danae knew something else must have surfaced with this whole Gottschalk thing, or so she was assuming. That had been the main focus for what seemed like forever now. Those icy blue hues shifted from Claramae to Dante as the woman asked her to pay no mind to him. She smiled ``I may take that under consideration Claramae. And Yes Dante, as a member of this order as well as that of Avaria's...I've grown quite use to the call of duty and honor no matter the hour.`` she replied with own smirk now as she looked to him. She then removed her cloak, draping it over a nearby chair and rather that sit, remained standing. Danae didn't remove her gloves just yet, her fingers were still rather cold and trying to warm. She then listened as Claramae began to speak, head tilting and brows arching before she turned to see Janice. ``Good to see you as well Janice.`` she replied before moving so that now all three were within her visage.



Dante:

Unbearable and without apology; Dante simply chuckling again at Claramae's words and continued to drink contently. While he complained about the summoning, he truly did not mind; it came with the occupation he embraced. To some, the banter between them was strange; to those that knew them not, obviously. Danae's words had a smirk, a secret one, curl the corners of his mouth even more as he took another drink from the goblet. However, eyes turned back to Claramae as business resumed. His brow arched upward at the mention of being showed something. What did Claramae have for them to see? His question was soon answered in the form of another. While Dante had yet to formally meet Viscreed, he knew that voice. Janice Viscreed. Dante leaned back in his chair casually. ``Come to auction yourself yet again, Lady Angel?`` He teased, smirking and tossing another glance to Janice. ``Buon
giorno, Signorina Viscreed. My, how your beauty transcends.`` He replied, before glancing to Danae. ``While this meeting may be formal, I doubt dear Claramae requires you stand on ceremony. If so, I would care not.`` He mentioned, before turning to Claramae once more. ``You wish to show us a lady?`` He asked, arching a dark eyebrow again.



Janice:

Janice had come to Turas Lan a country bumpkin whom was run over in the streets by carts, wide-eyed with wonder at the slightest city sights had been smoothed around her rough edges. Once brown hair was now transitioning to a shade of pale white-gold that cavorted with lines of what the old color was. For the most part, one saw only the new shade of her head. Arms were clad in satin, curves defined with a modest version of a sweetheart's neckline. Throat remained, after the ball, still uncovered! "No, Signore. God might only forgive so many times for merely one night's transgression! You are very kind..gratzi." Face wore a tell-tale pink flush as she quickly followed in step with Claramae. "I have what the master wishes to show you. Or part, we are going to assemble it for you.." Petite book-woman stood upon her tip toes top pull out a long, heavy set of scrolls from behind a long line of books linked as a
sort of hidden door. Next would come actual books there after, for living in a convent would do wonders for what a girl might burden herself with.



Claramae:

Claramae rolled her eyes as he mentioned the auction again, for heaven sakes! The poor girl was inducted, but remained a woman of letters and not one of the sorts of things that they had no scruples with! Despite it being her
grand ideal to put herself on the block, it still played with the girl's deep sense of religious piety. She looked at Danae, giving a slight shrug. Dante was as he was. Claramae would have him no other way, naturally. "Bring them here, my dear. Now as I wrote to you Dante, and as you may have heard, Danae..." though Claramae could not account for all Danae knew. Sorschal did a fantastic job of keeping her simple to what hung over her head, which he would later regret in learning his friend had been in one of Alderman's traps. "The great to-do of the last year and more has concerned what the children of Gottschalk, these are his apprentices, and certain individuals were after. Why so many were gathering in Turas Lan. Maubrey had precious little to do with any of it. In fact the idiot thought he could control Gottschalkians. At any rate, it only helped them get here faster. To summarize a long tale to a shorter version, Europe and distant countries are comprised of various persons and houses of what we are. Each house has its elite members and its masters, and each continent has its Grandmaster. Janice was discovered to be the daughter of Europe's former grandmaster, and the head of an order he'd risen in ranks from, The Order of the Rose. Deeply rooted in England, with connections to Italy and Germany, one of the few houses transcending borders. Now, Elusha Vittergaust said grandmaster left a daughter the identified later as Miss Viscreed, whom as you will remember is supposed to be the Key to a great mystery. Well, needless to say she is and after extensive research and translation on her own part, she has done what I dare say is never done before. Danae as you are still learning the significance of some of Europe's great oddities, one of them will be that in these orders there is a great level of superstition or myth." She looked to Dante on this angle. This he could attest to. Heavens only knew what he heard in Italy, and for this moment she left open for observations, questions, and a moment to clear her drying throat.



Danae:

Danae continued to stand, she let majority of her weight shift over to her right leg more rather than the left. She had a very slight limp... thanks to the attack on her, Claramae and Jean-Claude not to long ago. It had healed decently, and since the Masquerade... may have pushed to hard to soon, as it was sore again. As Dante greeted Janice, her eyes cut
to him narrowly with a hint of amusement before they shifted back to both Claramae and Janice. The Commander would listen and watch closely. She moved in closer once the scrolls and the books were produced. She let her eyes slowly scan over them while she listened to Janice and Claramae talk, nodding and looking to them both on occasion. Sorschal may have thought he was helping by keeping Danae in the dark about some of this, but truth be told... it was
likely to back fire for two reasons. One... needed information was vital for a member to carry out duties. Even those of the simplest of tasks so that perhaps no mishaps came into play due to not knowing when knowledge could have prevented such faults. Secondly... Danae's curiosity got the best of her almost all the time, and eventually, it'd lead her to that same trouble perhaps. While the talk came to and end... Danae's eyes returned to the scrolls and the books. The ranger had been favored by her people's Gods with a mind that took things to memory by not only sight, but that of sounds and smells as well.



Dante:

Spotting the blush, this had his smile widening in amusement; so the maiden remained in more ways than one. No throat slit or morals robbed. For that, he was glad. She was far too young to roll in the slop with sinners of the world; not that she needed to be involved in such. Unfortunately, Janice was more involved than he knew. While Claramae and Janice conversed, Dante dutifully downed the rest of his wine before Claramae stood upon her stage to speak. It was vital information, some of which he had never heard before. Being away for so long kept him in the dark over what new information surfaced under the digging of Claramae's nose. However, eyes turned to Janice under the revelation of her true lineage. In part, he felt a great swell of pity for anyone who became tangled in the web of the world; especially those with so much power. Slowly, he rose from his chair and crossed the room again to pour himself another goblet of wine. However, he paused and eyes turned to Claramae. ``What is myth is more factual than you might think. Though, with your snooping I am sure it comes as to no great surprise to you. Italy has a great many mysteries...some better kept secret and hidden.`` He said, almost bitterly; though the reason for the hint of bitterness was his secret to keep. ``While England has connections to Italy and the Germanic regions...it extends far beyond those kingdoms. Unfortunately, diplomacy seems to blanket treacherous crimes. Miss Viscreed might be a key...but I warn you Claramae what you might unlock.`` He warned, pouring himself another drink. Picking up the goblet, he returned to his seat and once against was silent.



Claramae:

"Dantae, I was not able to convey to you any more letters, or you would have known this months prior. Our circumstances did not allow for us, being besieged. It has already occurred. That unlocking. It occurred the moment we realized what they were looking for -- this Danae is where the lesson of myths come in. Yes, it extends far beyond countries and kingdoms, though there are some states or cities more powerful than others in our world for the caliber of work or the content of character, or a combination of both. Some are even no longer in practice but remain, as if
waiting . There is a story among our sort that each Grandmaster keeps a recording of the age prior to him and the age of his present day, so on, compiling a lists of techniques, adventures, puzzles, how they were solved, kingdom secrets..all manner of things. The Masterwork of the Age. There is also an accompanying story that in these books is kept a story, and a surrounding way in the hierarchy of things, to summon up one of the largest private armies to be assembled. A combination not of one but of many nations..this is called Leviathan, named after the great biblical monster. It is also said a great many of our origins are even older than some may think, transpiring beyond the Crusades. At any rate, the Leviathan legend as we know it states that there was a place in the sands where in the great beast was called, the private army..to eradicate whatever was in its masters way for the objective of total dominion. Complete domination, not only of the orders of the trade but of the land itself. An end game." As she talked, she began to lock some of the assembled books into place as Janice did, " I was not able to convey this to
the Signore because of our besiegement when they learned that Sorschal and I were not only alive, but suitably employed, Also, that I had pulled Janice from the cloister to be under our direct protection. Dante, every bit of that old story is true. All of it is true. Janice's father was the Grandmaster of Europe, the author of the current Masterwork. As you knew he was my master at one time, and Sorschal's, when Gottschakl was dismissed from Elusha' s company for his evident madness. Our very foundations were built on his work, and we did not know it until we analyzed what he had us writing and studying in our apprenticeships. What this essentially means is, realizing some danger he was in from his first apprentice, Gottschalk, he set about changing the very stream of how things are done. He was not only breeding one heir, but by coincidence he left behind a possible three. Gottschalk, Myself, and Sorschal. Danae, there are never three grandmasters. There are never really two. Yes, there is a subsequent successor but he is always the lesser. Most Grandmasters tend to be long lived, at least for our profession. Vittergaust despite how he ended was very long lived. " Another pause to allow what was said to settle in. To sink in. She was almost done assembling what she was going to show them.



Janice:

Janice looked at it with mixed levels of fret for all that it caused, and some bit of pride, for having unraveled it. Even a bit of sadness, that a man's life should be so undone by it.



Danae:

Danae would continue to eye the items before her until Dante moved across the room. With her head still lowered, her eyes followed him as long as they could before her head slowly lifted. Just as he might have looked her way, her eyes had already diverted to Janice and Claramae. She listened as Claramae began to explain in detail what had pretty much started this whole thing. This story of the Leviathan did seem familiar... but vaguely. Could it be the same story she was told about when she was but a girl? That had her pondering for a long moment before she straightened her stance and took a step back. Slowly she turned, hands clasped back behind her and she paced in thought as Claramae continued to share with them all that had been discovered so far. If myths were really legends, and legends were based on truths... there was plenty within the world that had been thought useless. Slowly she turned back toward the others and her leg began to ache once more. As she finally pried off the gloves from her hands, she moved to take a seat once the gloves had been tucked within the belt and the red sash of her father as well as her own Talon status. Danae continued to remain silent, letting everything sink in as she sat comfortably within her chair now. Her eyes lowered and she stared at what some might think the floor, the gears of her mind turning.



Dante:

Hearing that the unlocking had already occurred made him inwardly sigh. If there was anyone more willing to open Pandora's box, it was Claramae. The only sign of his displeasure to the news was the twitching of muscles residing at the corner of his mouth. How much plan had Claramae actually put into it before deciding to unleash gates of Hell itself? The more she spoke, however, the more troubling it became. In fact, it made Dante down his goblet in record time. Leviathan itself was being unleashed, and unfortunately Claramae and Janice helped breath life into the beast. Damn it all. Blue eyes lifted to Claramae and watched the woman that bore title over him. Everything sunk in well enough; enough to start a headache coming on. The Grandmaster of Claramae, Sorchal, and Gottschalk gave other orders an excuse...one they did not need. His jaw clenched and inwardly another sigh escaped. ``Congradulations, Claramae, for you have opened the box of Pandora. Now, misery, death, and sorrow have been unleashed by the grandmaster of this Order. He has given reason for other orders to turn a suspicious eye to him and everyone here.
The Grandmaster broke centuries of tradition...have gave them reason to shine the light on the Order and everyone upon this Isle.`` Dante shook his head and stared at the goblet in his hands. If only he could have been left in the
dark as Danae had; sometimes, ignorance was bliss. ``You have helped Leviathan rise, whether intentionally or unintentionally. I do not think your Grandmaster is as noble a man as you paint him; they never are.`` And no matter what Claramae could say, Dante knew better. ``How do you know it is coincidental? Nothing ever is. There is a reason you three were bred...one that has as many benefits as it does disasters. Tetrarchs never succeed, you of all people
should know this better than most, Claramae; you know history as well as I do.`` He said stiffly. ``Leviathan breeds...and her children are stirring.`` And once again he went silent, pressing lips together firmly.



Clarama:

"You have every right to rue it. Sorschal and I do as well. Think not we traipsed into this affair with wide eyes and childish fantasy of superiority. Keep open your ears and eyes, my friend. There is more. Leviathan is not yet risen, in order to do this there must be a system in place. A reader must read the passages, giving the summoner the right, if the summoner reads often the one who calls for power does not live to see it. Hence why they would prefer one to read for them. A girl is quite expendable. Now for the life of us, we pondered what the fantastic wanted. As you know Janice is no trained killer, nor as you've heard were her old childhood memories intact. Whatever Elusha had settled in
her ears was lost for years, and perhaps intent to be that way. But what you allege is not yet done, and also Vittergaust has been dead for many years. You know that. Gottschalk died not long after, leaving his minions in his
wake, with the Church spreading his ideology in hopes to control the uncontrollable. Now, among those rose his principles. Some he trained himself before his death, others after. Krause, Kryptmann, Hanz Mannering, Deichenhuase, Rivnor. These fanatics were the reason this even surfaced to begin with. Zealots for whom the old masters and old adventures are akin to..legends. Idol worship is very common among our kind, Danae, which is why it is required initiates not be simpletons with weak minds. Gottschalk preferred his students impressionable. Matrilineal and Paternal sorts of relationships are quite common. One's master becomes as one's mentor, mother, father, brother, sister. Or so it is meant to be. There are few friends and fewer real allies. Now, returning to the point at hand amongst these fools was a same common objective: They wanted to finish what their master started, which included a belief in
VIttergaust's teachings and obtaining his secrets to complete them. Killing Sorschal and myself became high on the agenda, as Gottschalk could not do that either. So years upon years went by, all is silent. But, here is where the story becomes different.



Janice:

Janice opened a box, passing it over to Claramae. She took what appeared to be an open flower with several petal
parts, to be opened and spread before it turned into a key.



Claramae:

" Further study stunned us. Vittergaust had done it. He finished the masterwork .." While one kept it, a living history if you will..no one finished it. This meant he'd finished what could have been a spy bible. "Not only did he finish it, he was completing the work with his brother, Jacob. Both of them were physicians, and both of them became assassins on behalf of their country. Jacob was no where near the skill Elusha possessed. But, he continued it after his brother's death. What he was continuing still was beyond me. We thought it merely notations but..what I have discovered is that Jacob assembled this himself, the Key to Elusha's writings, his journal and his masterwork. More still...he changed the entire masterwork. Sorschal doesn't know the part I will tell you, not yet..but he changed the masterwork in order to stop Leviathan from being able to ever be invoked again. He was a man with his flaws, yes. He believed too much in this to save his own life, and in the end..." She left that alone. How he'd died would horrify anyone, let alone their lot. "Anyhow...he didn't commute it in English in the end. Puzzles yes, ciphers to solve, and small pieces that made this book seem the masterwork, and true it holds meaning of his generation and it prior, but it
was a cover. He came together with the Grandmaster of the Sands, where there are 2 known masters to exist only because of the lands vastness...he came together with one of them to commute the complete history, and how to
dismantle the army. That was his ultimate goal. To stop the unstoppable. See here..look. My notes I've had for years, and Sorschal's, held the clue to our ciphers, the riddles that unlocked this key. Jacob's writings assembled it...and the true masterwork. Is this scroll here.."



Danae:

``If I remember correctly...according to most ancient Jewish midrash, the Leviathan was created on the fifth day. Originally the Christian God produced a male and a female Leviathan....and perhaps what I say next is a result of my thinking to deeply, but I am seeing similarities here Claramae. Your Grandmaster played the role of God... and instead of creating just the two, there were three... but.. only you and Sorschel live... what if you are to play the role of the female and Sorschal that of the male? And this summnor you speak of...`` she paused to look toward Janice silently. She then slowly looked from Janice to Dante and lastly to Claramae. ``In multiplying the species should destroy the world, the Christian God, slew the female, reserving her flesh for the banquet that will be given to the righteous on the advent of this Messiah. I don't like how that sounds... `` she took a moment to pause again. ``It sounds like you are
to fall... for what reason and why? perhaps that's not to be known until the very end...`` The more Danae thought on this, the more grim things looked. The Ranger may speak little but she was a thinker... and she learned by watching, listening...reading... everything she had heard so far... it was definitely a hard pill to swallow. As Janice stepped forward however and produced the box as well as the item in it... Danae turned her attention to it. Her eyes of ice blue shifting between the three others in the room.



Dante:

It was more than that Dante rued; there was much he held bitter distaste for all experiences he had personally gone through. For years his eyes and ears had been opened; very open. Blue eyes did not seem to stray far from Claramae; listening well to what she said. Each bit of information was as startling as the next, though the facts of it were different. Still, Dante did not agree with Claramae in the aspect that Leviathan was slumbering still; it lived, breathed in every sense of the word. Perhaps those sought to assemble a monster or a force that they named 'Leviathan'. Whatever the reason, in many ways of thinking, Leviathan, the mother beast, existed and gathered her children. But his eyes passed to Danae and he listened well to her words. Danae was a thinker...and he praised that. It was grim indeed, and now Skye became included in the beast's target. ``In the book of Job, particularly, the mention of Leviathan is described quite vividly. Metaphorically speaking, this beast composed of all that opposed God's kingdom. If what you say is literal, Claramae, than Leviathan, the female monster, seeks to make real her children into a reformed terror to be named 'Leviathan'. That could take many forms...be it a massive army, a reformed beast, or a poisoning philosophy. Whatever it might be, this Order has given it reason to grow; the proof is in that scroll. Your key.`` He said. ``Claramae, need I remind you, I have traveled many places and witness a great deal; I tell you now that Leviathan has risen and the passage has already been uttered.`` And no paper could tell him otherwise.



Janice:

"If I may...Master. You are correct Lady Ranger, to an extent. That is the story of the Leviathin, but in this instance it was to have been an entirely male related circumstance. And no, Signore, the idea of it has been uttered but not the entire passage itself. The Auction brought those interested in it, and those who may have wanted to rise it, the zealots and those who simply just wanted power..but...what I have bleared is this. I would have to be the reader given formality. Because I am my father's daughter, I would be his heir. Blood or skill it matters little I suppose..I am not a killer, I...don't have it in me but." She looked at Claramae for assurance before she opened up the scroll to show it was written in characters, not in words they fathomed..she began to read in a soft, soft voice..



Claramae:

"What she means is your words were thought of at some point, but what he truly meant to do was to give the masterwork a safer bastion in numbers. As you know God is both male and female in the Hebrew writings, everything has a counter part, which by incident Vittergaust made when he took me on. I was only to be his physician's apprentice, but you see the result of notice. With Alendral also surviving him, there became elements of a God and
Maidenhead, very uncommon. Elusha like any father-figure, had hopes I would marry, at first to shield me and then to strengthen. He realized what he'd done I imagined but as you know I am quite incapable of baring a literal house of my own blood." She was barren-sterilized in fact. Self inflicted with a purpose. "And as for the cutting of fesh.. Gottschalk became jealous of our places with Elusha, and went rogue. We served England some years and Gottschalk murdered for the sake of murder. We went to Venice to stop him, the seat to the rest of the world is Italy. And out of that story, Danae, you saw the continuation of it. At any rate...listen. Listen to what you hear. She is reading the work but you, nor I, nor any house for that matter in Europe would be able to understand it. Not even the church gives its own the education to fathom it. I am not going to be diced nor sortual for ritualistic purposes..but we have done something together that was in effect intended. Our combined presences established this place, our home, and not for the sake of ill-gotten gains. We became then a counter to the usual . In finding Janice was alive and recovering her to us, we inadvertently stumbled on the key yes, but its not what is stuffed between her ears of some fables..it's very
practical. Janice was reading a piece from the beginning of the book, and throughout, but he read it right to left. Not left to right. it was by no means in English, nor even a dead language any of them worked with. Greek or Latin were the orders of the day. It as even a 'business language'. French, Italian, German. Not even Scandavian..."I do not think he gave Janice the tools to be a summoner of Leviathan....but its reverser. To end it. Indeed for any of us she'd be the beginning and end to any of learning it because Vittergaust was not what any master of Europe had been. A
Jew. A secreted Jew in the end, but Jew. His wife converted for their marriage before they had to hide as Catholics again. This would make Janice by blood a Jew. Her Hebrew name is Miriam. The Masterwork was written, and disguised, as a Torah. It was kept in a synagogue, where no one in Europe would think to go nor look. Where it could also be easily burned no doubt as well. Jews are very afflicted group as you know. In fact they tried to kill Janice with a poison known to effect Jews. In the convent, it was arranged for Janice to learn the holy languages. She is fluent in what we are not. Hebrew, and Aramaic. Everything around the girl is gone. Her father died when she was quite young, and his brother raised her as his own. This is why she believed Jacob to be her father, instead of her uncle. This is why no one knew for years he had a daughter until Jacob was finally killed. Elusha's wife married his brother to try and save herself and the child, but she was quite sick even in her better days. She was innocent of it all,
merely loving. But she was killed as well. What we thought to be of Leviathan is totally changed. Janice ultimately won her place to translate, because we discovered it was Hebrew. We tried to keep from her what was always..oddly
around her. Flashes of her revived memory prove that. Jacob in letting her tend his apothecary shop inadvertently exposed her to his dissection which had her shipped to the convent to block her mind of it, and just of his talents, his oddity. He didn't account for the girl's intelligence, like her father. With that..she went through our old notes, her father's work, and the scroll and assembled the complete notes and the scroll's translation. Because of that we know whom her father worked with to end it. He is still alive. He has made it, just but to cross the border here..I have learned. He himself was coming for his friend's daughter when he heard what happened to Jacob, only we came to her
first.



Janice:

Kindly the girl began to read in English, this part, to prove it. "We are fools we men, whom think to control power using idioms and symbols of the Heavenly Father to make sense of his mystery and craft our own. We have changed
the work to allow for a new work. That among our kind, swords may become plow shares. At least, in that nations serve honorably among nation. God has called us for a purpose no man would have the gall to do , if he had a choice. Still, between us, we do believe that to crush Leviathan you must do so at its origin. Let there be an alliance with Jerusalem, and the Master of the Sands..let there be an alliance of one army and the next, so that should time ever
arise evil incarnate is summoned, there might arise a way to remove the head of the beast forever. Let the true summoner now, or whomever should prove to read, be an instrument of peace..not one of destruction." She then read the 23rd Pslam, in English, though it was written in Hebrew, she could jump between the languages with a fascinating speed.



Claramae:

"So there, you know it now. Here in lays the one thing the Alderman does not know, that while he can pull together any number of allies to raise the beast, he must find a reader from among the holy people and by nature Jews do not fraternize with Christians beyond business measures, and Elusha was the only inducted Jew. In Jerusalem, the sand master is a Moor. He of course speaks both languages, that is the only part of the world that remains a language of business. Were that we could have figured this sooner....but it literally took this long to compile it, and it could only be explained to me, by the girl..not long before the ball. She to wait until I was literally on my back. At any rate, the goal now is to cease Leviathan all together..forever..and as for the others to stop their fanaticism. Period. They care little for all of this unlike Alderman, they merely want to slit us up our backs and watch us bleed to finish what their demented master started ages ago. You know as well as I do Dante, you heard of this in Italy. If I could have transmuted more to you, I would have but as you saw for yourself upon returning, and what the upstarts have so far done..that was impossible. You Danae, now know enough to fathom what is going on, let alone why they would want a convent child. The greater of this I realize is at the ball we not only killed many enemies, we strangled a great grip of the Alderman's money. He is rich himself, but not to the likes of us, young though we are.." Some within the Order had been on their own for years prior and were well-to do alone, able to retire many times over. What happened if you put that together? "We have killed many of his resources, and even the resources of your enemies Dante in Italy, let
alone any the other masters may have had. I do not grow..zealous, nor conceded. But you know what it means." That power had shifted. Here in was the seat now of Europe's powerful. Sitting on little barbarian island some considered!



Danae:

Danae's deep thinking had proved right. The hours of reading on sleepless nights had proven worthy. With everything Claramae and Janice shared, it had been confirmed. With this, it brought worry, concern, and yes, perhaps even a fear for the Greek woman. But even in the face of death...she would hold her head high and continue forth. There were to many that depended on the Order to see this through, though some didn't even know it. Danae listened to every that passed the lips of both Claramae and Janice. Would she remember it all? One might be surprised... Once they were both done with what was said, Danae leaned forward from her relaxed position. The steeple hands fell and her elbows rested on her knees for a moment. A deep breath was taken in..and her head hung while sets of fingers came to massage her temples. Without looking up to any of them, she spoke. ``So we know what they had set out to do... what they want, and what they are willing to do to get it accomplished. My question is... what is our next move and how soon?`` It was here she lifted her eyes and head to look between the three.



Dante:

Finally, for what had been some time, eyes shifted to Janice. ``Signorina, there are many passages in this world, both literal and figurative. I tell you, that passage to waken Leviathan has been uttered long before you or I were born. It is only the next stage, one that becomes the inevitable as best illustrated in Revelations.`` He muttered, still holding
the goblet in his hands; it had long since been drained of its contents. However, as Claramae and Janice continued, all that he could do was listen and listen well to the data rolling from their lips and minds. Inwardly, he sighed. There was only one true reverse of Leviathan, the only being capable of thwarting the beast; that figure sat at the right hand of the Father himself. Un amused and without telegraphing personal thought, eyes danced from Janice to Claramae. Thank God they were living in a time were worship, be it Judaism or Christianity, was tolerated. Power had shifted indeed as all pieces on the chess board moved. Rising from his seat, Dante crossed the room and retired his goblet on the table. Rounding the corner, a glance was cast over his shoulder to Danae and her question. However, eyes returned to Claramae as he stopped beside her. ``I hope you know what you're doing, Claramae. You play with fire and with more lives than your own. I know what it means...and I know what it can bring.`` And after, his voice lowered to whisper solely to Claramae. ``You and the Orders of Europe have killed more than the resources of my enemies. You took a great deal from me that can never be restored.`` He whispered bitterly under his breath before he turned and headed back to the chair he had once been seated in. Reaching down, he picked up his cloak. ``It would be very unwise for you to think that you are the only ones with this revealed secret and added clues to the puzzle.`` He continued; his voice was once more void of emotion in return to its normalcy. ``You know as well as I do that walls have ears and eyes; just as serpents lie in the nest of every Order. Tell me my next mission and I will do what must be done; eager as Signorina Danae to guard what is more important: our lives.`` Draping the cloak over his arm, Dante turned to them. ``Your discoveries have been an enlightenment, reservedly, and will be taken with the utmost care. But now, my fair ladies, I think I have heard enough for a night to keep my mind in constant activity. Buona notte.`` And he bowed. With his next tasks under his belt, Dante took his leave without a second glance, though did offer an extended nod to Danae; the only person in the room that had been as dually informed.



Claramae:

"I am incapable of restoring what was lost, Signore. If that were so, then there are many years of several lives that would be amended. She whispered to him with a hint of sense to it. He was not blamed for placing her among the rest of Europe for like him, like Sorschal, she was one of the finest of the craft on the continent. She nodded, limping
off toward the shelf again as she pulled down a leather bound set of things. Then to normal tones the business came again, "You are correct ,naturally we've had our betrayers to readily root out and kill. One of them may have well made it to Alderman or Krause, but the task at hand now becomes markedly harder for Alderman to complete. Krause is interested in dissecting everything on his table. At any rate, what other assignments to be had will be posted you but they are all local. Before you leave, my only command now is to remain at the door, Signore. Janice.." The girl was kind enough to also help the stiffening leg cross the floor with support so she could bar the door for at least a moment. As he had leave to touch her (however that episode happened, it was as esoteric as many things were here about) she touched him, taking one of his hands and turning it palm up. She placed the package on it. "I sent you away in all honesty Signore, to spare you..this. But while you were gone, i was able to..undo, a few who had sought to undo you. And get a few things back, that have some bearing for you now their owner. You saved me once, as I did you. For that you paid a terrible price. I can undo nothing of what was done to any of us..but they did not take everything." She pulled back the string so he could see some of the contents. Letters, articles, perhaps painted images, of a home he'd once had."Your journal is among them. I would not let them do to you..the entirety of what was done to myself or Sorschal." She let it go then, canting her head to leave it at that. "Nor is it intention to let them, nor have they stole the one thing of you either. Your humanity, Signore. Buona notte, my friend." To have acquired what to some were merely things required more than common ingenious, it required the hard act of remaining alive, which was done by the literal skin of her back.



Danae:

Danae sat on the edge of her chair, she had watched Dante move about the room as he did. His leaning in closely to Claramae however had peeked her interest and both thin dark brows arched curiously. She hadn't heard what was said, but where others needed spoken words or mouthed whispers...she had body language that she could read easily. What his said... it wasn't anything pleasant and it was most definitely personal. As he crossed the room once more to gather his cloak, her eyes lingered on Claramae a moment before the ranger stood to her own feet. A few more words were shared and as Dante meant to see himself out, Danae had thought to remedy that. As she turned to gather up her own cloak, it seemed more was to be said between the two and so Danae stood off to the side, giving them the privacy they deserved with her arms crossed over her chest, her head hanging and a single foot allowing the toe of her boot to trace over a scratch in the wooden floor. Once things seemed to be done, she looked to Claramae and Janice both to bid them goodnight. ``Janice... Claramae, rest well.`` she said before she moved and swung her cloak about her form to follow Dante, if only out to retrieve his horse.

[Men of Skye]

((apportions of the Auction that sets the scene...)

And now..we come to the flesh...

Clarice: Ah my friends, alas, our...material items have diminished but I dare you, implore you, feast your eyes upon the following..:: upon a satin pillow a garter is brought out. Whomsoever shall buy this garter shall retrieve its beautiful owner! These women are fabled to please and titillate the elite of our world and that above. They may come with… extra fair in the saddle bag if you are but willing to mount the mare. Whom shall bid upon this garter! Fine lace it has..a ribbon of silk...surely a dainty thigh it belongs to.

Of course everyone would bid upon a pretty garter belonging to a pretty woman, ravishing really for there were no lack of swans on this glass lake. There were many, many takers...

Rebbeka: She stood there, self conscious but the veneer of her image hid it well. If she did not dance yet, it might have been due to her standing over in the shadows, watching the others, at this point in the eve. She did not really need a mask. No one here knew her, yet. Although dancing drew her into the light. Beka was not going to give up the luxurious life she had grown to love. She looked out and began to feel as at ease as she ever almost did. (d)

Ruphert:He folds his arms and glowers up at those taking their chance with gambling. "I would try that, if it is open to any. "

Rebbeka: Rebbeka did not see the man who walked up beside her; she was usually so alert, that caught her This looks like fun!

Rebekka and Rhupert[/b[: Beka closed her fan and let it drop on the ribbon about her wrist. "Games of chance are not my cup of tea, it seems." Rhupert stepped up to take his chance with the others. "Tap the dice with your fan and I will have good luck..” "I think you are too late, sir." (d)

James: smirks... "not only undergarments but the owner...."

In the end, [/b]James du Chere[/b] would leave with the garter, belonging to [/b]Lady Rebbeka[/b]

: Indeed, Lady, reveal yourself!

Rebbeka: Beka stepped out of the sidelines, her long heavy red silk gown sliding along the floor, in slow stately walk over to the announcer and nods her head, to acknowledge it is her garter won.

The Lady Rebekka...said to be of the Dutch..perhaps the Norse... Sir, please take your garter and your woman

James: ::wiggles his finger...:: come hither mademoiselle...

Rebekka: Yes, sir. Tis so nice to meet you. " she curtsied slowly and with the perfection that she had been taught. "Will you accept your winning?(d)

James: Looks to Beka and smiles moving closer...::

Rebekkah: She looks over at James, folds her fan and taps her temple with the end of it. "You do like to take chances, don't you?

James: James looks to Beka.... "I shall meet yu at the City Cathedral at the break of dawn... Now I must leave..."

Rebekka: “At dawn. I will be there, sir." she curtsies again, this time looks up so she will recall his face. Or how deals were arranged, for that matter. Do these ladies too, come with tales to tell? We shall merely have to let time give us the answer to that.

Dark before the Dawn - January 1330

The Weather breathed freezing cold onto all in the town. Ice crackled and crunched under the hooves of a dark horse, covered with bright purple blankets. A brilliant color, its brilliance was lost in the gray colorless light in this pre-dawn hour. Atop the horse sat a lady, riding perched atop a side saddle. She was draped with a seal skin cloak, lined with black wolf fur showing at the hood.

James had risen early, even before the cokes crowed, or the heralds called out the time of morn… Still dark, he had dressed in his blue robes of a merchant… Meeting the proprietors of the Masque, he received his new deeds, to those of land amassed on the Isle of Harris… Stornoway was next, he pondered, as he signed the deeds and added the seal of the Royal Merchant of Court for King Philip… Next was the unexpected benefit of the Lady Rebbeka…

Close to her side and a few paces back, a serving woman rode nearby, old Annie did not let her mistress out of her sight, for the business back at the Masque had her on needles and pins. She worried, "How can a young girl do such a thing? Be bid for like she was cattle! Oh, indeed it was a price enough for a herd. Ish! As if the man in Paris was not bad enough, oh that Louis Marteau!"

“That man gives me the creeps, I tell you Lady Beka.” The elderly woman's voice came out muffled through her scarf. Today the maid was bundled up against the cold, her nose and mouth covered by a second scarf. Annie was about to give more unheeded advice but it was too late. Someone else was out there in the chill night, out on the city street.

Two armed guards followed along the ladies, for the dark streets of any city, even Turas Lan, have dangers waiting in the blackest of shadows.

Shadows indeed… to which James stood in wait for the Lady to arrive. He pulled the cloak high upon his shoulders to break the winter chill that had beset Turas Lan… But Beka would not know just how much peril she was actually in… What he didn’t expect was the lady’s servant and the two guards.

Rebbeka drew her horse to a halt, holding the reins lightly with gloved hands. She no longer wore the red half mask but her voice was recognizable as she looked about, there in front of the Cathedral, in the hour before dawn.

“This is the right place, is it not, Annie?” There were twelve snow-swept steps going up to a tall pair of bronze plate decorated oak doors. Above that, carvings and statues hewn into grey stone, soared up to a pair of mirror twin towers. At dawn, the bell would toll to call the faithful to Mass. What was she doing here? In such a holy location?

“This is it.” Her maid replied, teeth chattering like nervous. “I do not like this Mistress. What manner of man would want to meet with you here?”

A holy location for such an unholy man… James stepped out from the alley between the Cathedral and the next building… Walking toward the riders, the lady’s guards turned and watched as James approached. “Bon jour Lady Rebbeka… I am glad yu made it…”

“Bon Jour! How nice you have selected this place to meet. How intriguing. No one has ever wanted me to attend Mass, before this.” Even her dear father, the navigator, allowed Beka to sleep late of a Sunday morning, since she was a child.

A wicked smirk crossed his face. “Yu favor intrigue, do you?” then the expression changed to one a bit surprised, faltering into a smile… “Mass…?? Oh yes…” he nodded… and smirked.

“Shall we enter now?” She slid off the horse, a bit of bright red silk skirt showed at the hem of her cloak. “I seem to have forgotten my prayer book.”

He attempted to assist her but her resistance only formulated a smile from him… “But first, I would like to speak to you privately…” his fingers took her elbow lightly, guiding her away from the group… Glancing back to make sure they were not followed… “First, let me introduce myself… I am James du’Chere, a member of the Royal Merchants of King Philip’s Court in France…”

Escorting her to the far side of the Cathedral steps… “Secondly, I do not presume to know yu, but since yu offered up yer garter, and what’s inside it, at such an event last eve, I presume yu are not of the ordinary type… presumably enjoying adventure and dark intrigue…” he smirked. “I did not ask yu here to escort yu to Mass… but none would suspect otherwise for those standing at the doors…” He offered her such a wicked smile.

He turned to face her fully… “I do not proclaim to be a virtuous man… nor I would presume those at the event were any less, nor better, than I… My question is, why were yu there and why did yu offer up yer garter, and what’s in it… unless it was for excitement of the senses…” he glanced over her shoulder at the trio that accompanied her, then looked back at her, wickedly waiting on an answer.

"I am Rebbeka Marteau; born Aurigdotter." While introducing herself, Beka curtsied as if she were being announced at court, arms gracefully out to the side, hands positioned just so, while her curtsy was more of a folding into deep bow near to ground level. Standing once more she rose tall as before, not as in the shadow of her cloak's hood as she had been. In what little light there was, her oval perfect face and pale thick blonde hair reflected only white in the colorless hour of early day. "My family is in the Perfumery Business." She did not mention that she was holder of the formula secrets for the scents and other by products of essential oil processing.

James smiled at her introduction… “Ah, another merchant… such luck…” then he canted his head… “I tend to trade whatever is required, specializing in nothing…” he smirked evilly… “not limiting my ventures… keeping my options open, so to say…”

"I have had an eventful life, so far, until the recent months. Come to the land here, I am disconnected with the friends and family who have made my life interesting. When I hear of this event, I think, why here is chance to meet someone new...there have been very few men in my life. I wanted to meet someone new, someone unexpected. Excitement, yes, I think that is it, too." Her accent was a mixture of several lands, her speech here not exact but close enough to be understood.

James ran his fingers thru his curly dark hair… “That event was… well, let us say it is not high upon the social scale… some of Skye’s darkest people were expected… though yu would not know because of the masks…” he winked… “Do yu require attending mass, or can yu dissipate such requirements?”

"I like I do not have to attend the Mass." Beka said quietly to him while she waved to her serving folks and gave them leave to return to the inn. "Will I need this horse? My boots are not fit for much walking." She was looking at James as best she could see him in this time before sunrise. There were so many at the Masque, it was good Rebbeka had taken careful gaze at James' face before he left the gathering. Why, it could have been anyone here and she would have had no clue. "I am no judge of virtues, James du'Chere. If I did not like the look of you, I would have been away from here fast as that horse can run."

James laughed at her bluntness… “Yu are as bold as yu are beautiful M’Lady… such qualities are a plus in the account books as far as I am concerned…” he took her by the arm and began to escort her down the street… “Byrante Row is just down the street…” he smiled… “Tis a high class district, but it does have its depths…” he offered her an evil smirk. “My quarters are there…”

"Byrante Row? It has the sound of somewhere English." Beka peered around the edge of the fur lining of her cloaks' hood to observe James’ face, in the slight glow from windows they passed. Dark hair and his strong masculine face were so more appealing than Louis. Fie on Louis! What she would do to that Marteau if she only could! This James, well, who can guess. Rebbeka was fascinated with the unknown.

James chuckled… “I do not know M’Lady… but it provides suitable quarters…”

"I imagine you in a setting more like Paris. I have lived there a little while, but I am still learning the language." Her elegant gown came from Italy, her cloak from the far North. It was expensive, Rebbeka had to have it. She knew how to make money with her perfumery and still better how to spend those profits for her enjoyment.

He looked at her attire and smirked… “Oh I can imagine yu in Paris… all dressed in plume…” he canted his head… “I love Paris… all the pomp and ceremony… and the language, ah, so romantic…” he winked at her.

"Je suis désolé. Mon accent français n'est pas si bon." That was true, her accent was lacking in practice of the language. "Do you speak the language of the courts? I do wish I might practice. Tis good for conducting business, French that is."

“Je suis né à Bretagne...” he lied… du’Chere was actually James Maubrey, son of Lord William, half brother to Adam… born in the regent of Aosta… but for the last decade or so, he had been associated with and involved deeply in France. His French was very passable for a Frenchman, even though his heritage was English. “…levé à Londres et est revenu à Paris pour la servitude dans l'Armée...” […raised in London, and returned to Paris for servitude in the Army...] This time a half-truth… “Maintenant je sers le Roi Philip Valois comme le Négociant Royal de la Cour de justice...” [Now I serve King Philip Valois as Royal Merchant of the Court...] finally a full-truth.

Pointing to the room upstairs in a fancy building… “Je vis là ... oseriez-vous la visite... ?” offering her a wicked smirk.

"I will see your quarters? See how a man of means lives here in Turas Lan?" She had only the inn to judge the comforts of this land, so far. So far she still wore the garter he owned.

He continued his speech in French… “Mademoiselle, please grant me the privilege of accepting the garter as purchased… I guarantee yu shant be displeased…” he bows slightly, a wicked smirk upon his face, one hand extending showing her the way, the other at her lower back.

[Lady Aislin Creed of Eohmark]

A MESSAGE FOR THE HIGH PHYSICIAN

[/i][/size][/center]

Echo moved as quickly as she could through the streets and path ways of Turas Lan. The rider ahead kept a even pace and Aislin would make sure not to loose the boy. Behind her, two of her guards from her husband's Calvary were hot on her trail with their own horses. It took Aislin a very short time to arrive at the Ebony Hall with out a carriage. The moment she paused Echo, her skirts were lifted slightly and she was jumping from the horse's back, giving her a pat to her neck and asking the guards to stay here and keep watch. A large sac was pulled over her shoulder as the messenger eagerly showed her the way up the steps and into the hall.

The moment they entered, they were greeted and Aislin was passed off to another male who would take her where she needed to be. "Thank you for coming so quickly my lady." Aislin gave a nod, but remained silent as she moved for the area where they were keeping the patient. When she entered, she was not surprised to see so many others about. If anyone approached her, Aislin would tell them to wait unless they had information about the wound to tell her. Already, she had some of the mixtures she needed, though there were two plants missing and with news that Ada was here, she was hoping the woman would have them for her to use. A small pot was put on and Aislin went to work.

Careful hands moved about the wounds before the proceeded of cutting, draining and treating it had come into affect. Aislin did not care for people talking to her while she worked and would have expressed it as she liked to focus on the task at hand. When all was completed, she covered the wound in the wraps that Ada had provided for her and made a mug of herbs that would help fight off infection and the poison to which Claramae could drink and get into her system quickly. When Aislin was done, she stood up, washed her blood and poison covered hands in a bowl of hot water and whiskey. That was when she was approached and told about being sworn to secrecy. "Secrecy? Ye nay be needin to be worried about me. Ah do nay tell stories, for ah was never good at them. How someone became the way they be only be mattering to me in the need to save them or help them. Other then that, ah do nay care what happened. Nor will ah question it." Ocean eyes glanced over to Claramae then back to the one in front of her. Aislin held no emotion to her face, her tone was even level and held nothing in it. "Ah will be leaving some medication and herbs recommended for her. Make sure she be getting them." Aislin had waited until she was sure Claramae had to do the fight on her own and Aislin could do no more for her, then she left the hall and went back to her place in the Infirmary to wait for her husband.

[/font]

[Rebbeka]

Dark before the Dawn - January 1330
continued....Part 2

~James collects what his bid won; Beka visits Byrante Row~

Pointing to the room upstairs in a fancy building… “Je vis là ... oseriez-vous la visite... ?” offering her a wicked smirk.

"I will see your quarters? See how a man of means lives here in Turas Lan?" She had only the inn to judge the comforts of this land, so far. So far she still wore the garter he owned.

He continued his speech in French… “Mademoiselle, please grant me the privilege of accepting the garter as purchased… I guarantee yu shant be displeased…” he bows slightly, a wicked smirk upon his face, one hand extending showing her the way, the other at her lower back.[/i][/color]

“La jarretière est la vôtre, Monsieur. Et tout ce qui va avec cela." [The garter is yours, sir. And all that goes with it] A bargain in business is a bargain. Beka Marteau was honest in the deals with her perfumery sales and she was not going to attempt to get out of this situation. In fact, she rather liked it, so far.

"How do I know I am alive or not? Some days glide by like ships in a fog. I know they are passing but it is of no importance. One will be like the next. I am not a decoration or a toy. I am alive and can make a difference." Rebbeka thought, the day before she decided to be a part of the Masque Bidding. "It is a game, Annie. I cannot work for the perfumery here; there is a court, but they will not notice this foreigner." She pulled out the red silk, a heavy fabric with dull sheen that contrasted with her pale skin and light blonde hair.

It had become an addiction to her, this rush of adrenaline; cold in the pit of her stomach and icy hands to think of what danger she might be in. How else did she feel so alive except that she was at the edge of a precipice? On the brink of the unknown. And this man James du'Chere. Was this even his name? It did not matter, for there was no going back and Beka knew it. At the least, her creditors would be satisfied.

Now she walked with a stranger, his arm at her back, steadying her nerve. He seemed more than nice; Louis had looked harmless, but that was not the way of it, was it?

"It is so cold, this morning" Rebbeka shook from the chill air and the anticipation. "I hope your servant has the hearth fire going." It will be an adventure, she reminded herself, once more.

James could not help offer her a wicked smirk and his arm to escort her inside. “Oh I am sure the hearth is warm… and the servant shall disappear soon after we arrive…” he gave her a smile, one that appeared filled with anticipation.

James opened the door to his rented quarters… the interior was well furnished with all the necessities… a roaring fire in the hearth, window coverings closed, a rifle behind the door and a pistol upon the small table in the living room. Along the head of the ornate four-poster bed was a night stand with a basin and pitcher of water and some towels… The feather down mattress was covered with a thick blanket… the sheer linen that hung from the frame above the bed was pulled back. The maid stopped in front of James and bowed slightly… “Awlls dun MiLord… Jest as yae ordered… By yer leave MiLord…” James looked to Rebekkah… “Do yu require anything before Mary departs?”

James could not wait to be free from interruption… to attempt what desires he felt upon retrieving his garter. He had paid good money for a simple garter… but what expected to come with it was much more interesting… He could already feel the pounding inside his chest cavity… his heart rate had increased ten-fold.

"Mary?” Her voice sounded so small in this comfortable room. “May I trouble you for some assistance with my hair? I have a brush in my handbag.” She offered the brush to the good servant and stood quietly and the maid did what little was needed to make Beka’s hair drape over her shoulder like it had back at the Masque, pale gold over the vivid red silk gown. Her beauty was a coin Beka would use to insure her future security.

“Thank you, Mary.” She slipped a small vial of her latest invented perfume into the hand of the one who had assisted her. “Use very little, it is all you will need.” There was a slight aroma to the closed container, one of spice, cloves and a musk base. Rebbeka watched as Mary made her retreat.

The Marteau woman did take notice of the pistol on the table she has passed. In a flash a memory of her past came back to her, of when Jan taught her to shoot a target with the pistol he often carried in his jacket. Instead of making her alarmed that there were weapons evident in James’ room, it did the opposite. Here was a man who was careful, thinking ahead.

"May I call you James?" Beka walked close enough to him that there was no mistaking the violet scent she was wearing. To a perfumer, that is pure showing off, as violet is the most difficult aroma to make and have it last more than an hour. "My the hearth as taken the chill off; such a comfortable room you have here."

“Je me demande, porterez-vous cette jarretière votre sur votre pochette après ce soir ?” Meaning both what it sounded like and was there a chance this chance meeting was for more than one day. Rebbeka stood tall as she was, lifted the folds of her glossy rose red dress high enough to see the most of her red leather slipper. A glimpse of white silk stocking decorated with pink stripes embroidered on them was evident. Slowly like a fan unfolding, the evening began to head onto sunrise. To the winner goes the prize.

James took off his coat, and took Rebbeka’s, and put them away… As he waited for Mary’s departure, he could not help but watch the woman brush Rebbeka’s golden hair…

James smirked... “Yes my dear... James is fine...” he paused... “Thank you... I am no miser...” and he leaned toward her taking a deep inhale thru the nose... “My God woman, yu smell superior.” his hand going immediately to her back guiding her toward the hearth.

James smirked at Rebbeka as she displayed her stockings... He set a small foot stool near the closest chair... “Please sit down, relax, and let me retrieve my prize...” His imagination began to run wild as he mentally undressed the beautiful woman.

"Of course!" Beka settled her skirts about her, sitting on the chair indicated, leaning forward a bit, the firelight gave clear light, brighter than the sun which was barely awake to the sky. "This perfume is one of my favorite formulas. I am wearing six other scents, which you might discover." Her beaded red slippered foot she rest upon the footstool.

"One day when my company gets going, I want to ship products to all the great cities. Paris, that you know." Rebbeka spoke of the perfume business while she lifted her thick silk gown hem half way to her knee. A long beaded underskirt remained to cover her white embroidered stocking. It was no longer a secret how gracefully shaped her legs were.

What fortune it was this man who bid and won. Unaware that she did, Beka tilted her head to the side, as if to watch his face for any hint of what she ought to say or do. This was like a dance, the game of James seeking his prize garter and the Marteau girl let the man lead. It was like dancing. She was going to follow his lead and keep up best as she could.

The money was already gone, that which duChere paid, to satisfy creditors. There was no giving back or turning about.

James gave a wicked grin as he knelt at her foot upon the stool. With a gentle touch, he removed the slipper and set it aside... light fingers trailed her stockings as he pushed the skirt aside... His eyes veered to see the expression upon her face as she spoke of her company... “What allegiance do yu have with the Mo’r Triath? For he controls one of the greater trade cities...” then he would tantalize her leg with a touch upon the back of the knee, trailing the finger around her kneecap...

"I am new to this land Sir, I have not seen the Mo'rTriath yet and only his wife, from a distance. I am told it is required that I request permission to open a Perfumery here, their permission." In France when Louis was with her, Beka had run the perfumery business on her own, with his protection. It was a good country for her profits but once she left Louis, Skye was the closest spot she had to run in order to be independent. Ulster was too far; Then funds ran out and debts had to be paid.

As both hands traced her leg to the garter, nimble fingers grasping it lightly... “Does the likes of Spain or France intrigue you?” he would ask, the French accent tainted his words... “There are many plans in the works… Spain wishes to control the Pillars of Hercules and to disenbowl the Muslims from Spanish lands, and even considering crossing the Strait to control Berber lands, thereby controlling trade to the Middle Sea… France wishes to regain English territory lost by the fall of a king… With England and the Plantagenets gone, Spain and France could stand against Skye…” Then he pulled sharply down upon the garter for a few inches, only adding to the heightened sensitivity caused by a male playing with a woman’s thigh...

Beka slid slightly back into the chair, "France, oh yes. I did not want to leave France, but Louis Marteau forced the choice. I have not been to Spain before, but they have good contacts for ingredients my perfumes require. Against Skye? This far away, can it be? What will happen to my business prospects if I cannot get the supplies I need?" Her talk did match the way she was not hiding she liked his touch, even at the very first.

Slowly and meticulously sliding the garter down her leg, his sea-green eyes burned into her chest as it heaved up and down... He knew he was working on her painstakingly slow, the garter slowly moved down to her ankle... “We could do a lot together... you and I... but trust would need be established...” said softly, as he slid the garter onto his arm past the elbow. With a wicked smirk, his hands now moved back to her leg as he found the upper edge of the stockings, he began to roll them down slowly...one then the other until he had both off...

Green eyes look to the golden hair and he moved between her knees, pushing them apart... “How well do yu trust M’Lady...?” wickedly smiling. His hands moved behind her buttocks and pulled her closer to him in a seductive manner... He had his garter, what more could he get from her?

"You did not make me attend Mass; that alone speaks volumes" She gave a little nervous light laugh and inclined her head, closer, adding, "It seems I trust you enough to be here now, as we are. What more will it take to prove my trust?" Beka breathed her words in a hushed manner, as if someone might overhear when they were actually alone, there before the warm wonderful fire. She had loved that he spoke of international matters to her, things that got her attention almost as much as removing her stockings had. A powerful man. She was impressed.

“Trust will be earned... and yu have time... for our plans won’t be quick... it takes years to set up the coup of a powerful nation...” he smirked wickedly... His hands making quick work of the fastenings of his trousers... He had flung the stockings over his shoulders, one by one, then removed her bloomers and undergarments, leaving the dress bunched at her waist... He was going to take her right there on the stool... Powerful indeed was the sexual drive of an authoritative man... “Yu will need mass AFTER we are done... not before...” he smiled with a wicked grin.

As he discussed the plans for the building of an army, the infiltration of Ebony Hall, and the subsequent disruption of trade, his words were emphasized by his penetration of her... Moans and groans of pleasure from both of them interrupted his conversation, only to continue as he maneuvered her to the floor...

“We will make good partners...” he spoke harshly as he drove into her... “We will make large sums of money and gain power that yu never dreamed possible...” Words like power, riches, and the like spurred him on in his sex with the woman... “Yu are... independent... and motivated...” his motions increased and became forceful... until he went completely rigid... groaning loudly, his hands upon her shoulders... one last shove and he erupted into an explosive orgasm.
Withdrawing from her, he moved her legs and refastened his trousers... “Now, that was a union.!!” Smirking wickedly as he stood and moved to a cabinet. Pouring whiskey into two glasses... “Collect yerself woman, I propose a toast...”

It was more than she had ever hoped. Here was a strong man with experience of the world, direct and to the point. In speech and action. The action had her expressing her appreciation rather loud, good the servants were not in the next room. Rebbeka took advantage of the water and towels in the room and washed carefully, for she was like that. In moments she took the basin to James and offered her assistance with a towel. "A toast? To what do we toast?", drawing her stocking back on, rolling them up over silky smooth skin of her legs. Jasmine fragrance began to overpower her violet perfume. Beka took the glass of whiskey, and held ready to raise it for toasting.

She was thinking how well this went. Young men get so jealous and want a girl to pledge forever; old men want to pet too much and take too much attention and way too long in the getting ready. Yes, James duChere. He raced at her speed perfectly.

“A toast to a long and fruitful relationship... all for the cost of a garter...” he smirked. “There is much ado in this world for people like us... people who know what they want, and are nay afraid to go after it...” he smirked and neared her. “Yer nay afraid are yu girl...?”

"I am not afraid, just surprised to meet someone else who sees the grand picture; one is not hesitant to take a chance." They both had taken a risk meeting as they did, by random of his bid on a anonymous garter. Now she was curious, what exactly was this James duChere about, anyway.

Then he walked away from her, taking the last drink of whiskey. To the closet he went, and opening it he withdrew a large wooden case. Hefting it and walking back to the table, he laid it down, and opened the top. Inside was a newly designed shoulder-cannon. Looking at her... “This my dear is a new weapon, one produced by the Griffin of Skye. His learned people have been experimenting with these... and I expect in a few years, they will soon be important in war.” Taking out the heavy weapon he holds it out for her. “Test the weight... tis heavy... and is usually used with a tri-pod of sort.”

"A weapon? I have seen weapons before. Rifles I saw and even shot pistols before but this?" In a flash she realized what might be going on here. After all, all exotic scents and perfumes sold were not really from the Orient or the Middle East. Many were made right at Beka's perfumery and from her formulas. "There are inventors in Skye who can do this? Look at the metal, the finish of it. Extraordinary! I intended to use their blacksmiths to manufacture my distillation vats. If I have to remain in Skye. But this.." Rebekka looked at the man and listened very carefully. The item was very heavy indeed.

As he watched her, he smirked. “Once yer perfume business is in full bloom, we could begin to establish a system of transporting these to people who would pay extraordinarily well for one... don’t yu agree...” James was not the first black-marketeer, but one of the first to consider such a large endeavor for advanced weapons. His plan for stealing technology and selling to the highest bidder would take the edge of the Mo’r Triath’s benefit of advance technology, a key to Skye’s power.
Her mouth curled up at the ends like a Cheshire Cat grin, a wicked little sparkle in her bright blue eyes. "Oh Yes! They will pay about anything, those who want the muscle such weapons will give. I cannot wait to get my perfumery back in action once more!"

The discussion of business dealings would be followed by him offering to teach her to use the newly designed shoulder cannon, and how exciting she appeared to be making such underhanded deals. “My dear, yu seem downright enthralled to deal such deception... Maybe a woman after my own heart...” he smirked.

“When yu wish to learn how to fire this on yer own, let me know...” he winked at her...

"I want to see it demonstrated before considering trying to use it. A pistol is dangerous enough; I have seen black powder explode back on Jan's ship. This seems a better engineered item than that was, of course." The weapon in that time had been a box with power inside and a lit fuse on to activate it. That day, a while back, poor Proctor Langguth had his hand torn off at the elbow. This weapon seemed different, however. It was a new thing, Beka was fascinated but not without caution where fire was concerned. "Have you used this shoulder cannon yourself? Is it difficult to aim?" Thought of killing that traitor Louis from a safe distance ran through her mind. After all, who would suspect a sweet young lady like Rebbeka of even considering that? She knew better. This was a man's weapon. Still, Rebbeka wanted to watch a demonstration of it firing, some day.

James laughed at the other man’s dilemma... “Oh yes, I have shot this... and no its not hard to aim... lest yer arm is so weak...” he winked. “I think that it will revolutionize warfare... right now, it is too expensive to do much good... but soon enough...” he glinted.

"There are yet five different perfumes I am wearing you have not yet experienced." She could see the sun was high in the sky now, letting little beams in through the window drapes at their overlap. "Is it time for me to be on my way? If so, I can be found at the Regal Inn, until the next month."

A wicked grin crossed his face... “Five?” canting his head and looking at her up and down... “Trust me lass, I would spend enough time devouring yu, that I would find each and every one...” then she informed him it was time for her to leave... “Aye, yer an evil lass... to tell me such and then leave... but I understand and accept the challenge again, when we meet again.” He gave her a wicked smile and a wink. “Keep yer bed warm for me...”

Her black wolf fur lined cloak wrapped her in comfort and she curtsied to James, as she did back at the cathedral. "It has been enlightening to spend time with you, sir." The smile she had was genuine, for she was now debt free and able to go back to her perfume manufacturing business. "You are always welcome where I am, James."

“Oh, before yu leave...” he turned and approached a cabinet. Taking out some paper, a quill, and wax, he began to write. Glancing up at her, he spoke softly... “This document will gain yu license from the Royal Court to establish yer business... and to the Admiralty shall give yu access to the piers with top priority...” then he took to writing again. Blowing on the ink, he poured the hot wax and as it cooled, he pressed his ring into it. Rolling it up, he hands her the document now secured by a white ribbon. “There, signed, sealed, and delivered... and shall yu desire the entertainment again, just let me know...”

Escorting her down the stairs and to the front door, he watched her depart... Handing her off to her maid Anne, he bowed slightly... “Great doing business with you Lady Rebbeka...”

"It was the same for me." She took one last look at him from the protection of her cloak's hood. Annie had the rented horse at hand for her mistress, for their Inn was across the city in a respectable but modest district. Without assistance the young lady got herself into the side saddle and held the reins, turning away from Byrante Row off to a bright future in France.

[Master Claramae St. Laurence]

We Turn the Corner Towards the Beginning of the End

The morning brought an unsettling peace, as each morning that dawned since the Masquerade. Weeks now into the year each side had retreated into the fetal posistions. Comfort was paramount to both sides; cups of warmed beverage beside roaring fire were essential to the planning of death. In true irony, each side would have figures freezing beside aquaducts, ducts, in the open country and woods waiting for the other to do what it wasn't. All of the postulating was enough to make one wonder if they both weren't lame fools who missed the b-tch in heat. One by now could have bred ceaseless bastard pups to the cause. But now, everything was stark still.

The Grandmaster of the Sands slipped in to Turas Lan with no great fan fare. Rich as a sultan, as privleged as a demi-God, his entourage moved in the fashion of Westerners, so that to others they were only people of colored flesh who'd adopted 'civilized' methods of living. A long needed number of men came upon ships and in things as simple as dingies to fill the house with the Order of Rose's private army. So now, they all sat doing nothing but entertaning one another.

It made little sense, to Claramae, least of all.


Her motion was compromised by the bandages beneath her dress, but to view her one wouldn't have known it. Healing better than she should have after what the Healing Horse, Jean-Claude, and others were privy to, it was still great work for the skin to render the tree of life carving shut. Price paid to the piper for her silence in sickness, in anguish, she still remained silent on the whole affair. No, there was no sin in admitting she'd been taken by the sect in England, beaten, butchered, and tossed out to see what happened. No, there was no sin in admitting that she was human, but there would be sin in the belief that this couldn't happen to anyone else.

Nairne Beathas Adair had no head in the end of her too short career, and so Claramae had no other apprentice. Sorschal lost his mind. She lost flesh. Bromheilde lost hair, blood, and sleep while Carlotta like Nairne had paid for it with limb and life. Was this all worth it? To close a thing that could simply be burned with no trace evidence -- to go on, with no more event -- to erase?

How could you erase anything like this?

[Dame Danae Galanos]

The days that had come and gone had been long and hard. That even with as many duties and titles Danae held, she never once slowed down or complained about having to much to do. While recent events had put so many people on edge, others knew it was the normal. Others like Danae, others like those of The Order. Others that all resided within or frequented Ebony Hall.

While Gottschalk and his men had been fairly active, it appeared things for them were also slowing down. Not that this was any sign of something good. On the contrary... Danae knew better, she knew this was just the calm before the storm. Maybe they were re grouping and it would soon be just as chaotic as it had been not so long ago... if not more so. Danae was expecting it really, and perhaps even hoping for it to come sooner than it might actually happen. With hearing nothing of any attacks or the likes in connection with Gottschalk or what was left of his men, this was the reason behind the rangers visit today.

After having made these last rounds within the city along with her men under her command, the copper skinned Greek Commander made her way from the stables and to Ebony Hall to hold audience with Claramae. To see if her superior had heard of any news or maybe even wish to make Danae aware of anything that was suspicious. Into Ebony Hall she entered and quickly grabbed the attention of a servant there. ``You there... could you tell me where I might find the Lady St Lawrence? Or perhaps even announce my arrival and inform her that the Commander is here to speak with her?`` Danae would find herself lingering within the main hall while awaiting the return of the servant.

[Master Claramae St. Laurence]

Late Winter, Unto Spring, 1330

The way the days went on as if nothing had ever came before it baffled what had come in the wake of the stretch of peace. As anyone with good sense new, peace was a falacy that the desperate told themselves when trying to explain a silence bereft of physical events. It was a falacy as silly as a children's fairy tale, but even the likes of St. Laurence were want to believe in it. The Governor, the Baroness, the Madame of Death, looked out from the interior courtyard down into the expanse of the estate that masqueraded as a simple set of several lots with a few long buildings. Color peered through thick green leaves; in the winter the trees were often covered at intervals under expensive canopy, huge oil braziers used to heat them so they wouldn't freeze, or shield them from too much rain. Soon, they would burst open and later yield the likes of peaches, oranges, and cherries. Flowers would open in their beds to rival the granduer of what was inside her exotic hot houses. Sweeping in and out of buildings, the gardens, the rooms, everything of the home was lost in translation to the naked eye. What masqueraded as a manse in the capital city was a veritable urban estate.

The name of Gottschalk was hard on the ear. When it crept into a moment like this, it took all the color from the world. No visible sign of discontent marred her face, but the inner palet on which she painted musings tipped face down to splatter on the canvas in disarray. It wasn't Owen's fault. He was still learning the ways of the household and the finer arts of recognizing what passed for emotion on a master's face. "Dame Galanoes wishes to speak with you, when it is of your way to do so m'lady.." Hazel infused brown gaze galavanted over the figure in quickness, baffling him. Had she moved, did she breathe? "Gottschalk she wishes to speak of then?" "Aye, they said to have care with such subject.." "Care of what, novice? It is a name and is treated as a name. Have more care with seeking to tangle with those surrounding it than the word itself." Owen nodded, not realizing it had taken the harbringer of the advice literal years to give that word no power. He was in advantage, superior in a way to her if only in that he hadn't witnessed the force of horror associated with it.

"Tell her to come hence to the balcony of my private library"