Fantasy The MPC Rushes Story, Cont.

[cloud3332]

When Lisbeth said Architect, Tivurtii scratched his head. "I have never heard that name before." He looks downward and takes in everyone's words and pondered on it for a bit. He slowly leaned back in the chair and had his hand reach inside his pocket to pull out a picture. He looks at it, before flipping the picture with his two fingers, so it could be visible to everyone in the entire room. "Have you seen this man?" He feels like he will regret this. His face is tilted to the side and his eyes are closed. He is scared that showing them this will spell doom in some way.

 

[Marianne]

Due to the mentioning of her name, Daisy looked up with large, sleepy eyes before the words that came out of (Blott's?) mouth finally dawned on her. The only response she could give was, "S-Space ninja?" For a ninja to go into outer space? The thought was incredulous, there was no way that could happen. Flustered, the Chinese woman cupped her face and immediately wondered what caused the woman to say such a thing, she could never be a ninja - well maybe - and a time pirate? What in the world was that? Having officially awoken, some, Daisy examined the occupants of the room before officially looking at Blott and the comfortable atmosphere she displayed. The covers looked promising, along with the pillow, and Blott herself. If she were to thoroughly pay attention to what was going on, she needed to move around a little, so she pushed herself up off the ground and brought the small blanket with her.

Shyly, Daisy asked, "May I join you?" Seemingly oblivious to the tense atmosphere that engulfed her. While waiting for a response, the tardy observation from before helped her realize there was a new person in the room. It must be the person Genevieve was talking to at the door! Daisy knew that she had noticed it earlier, but where has she been? Taking a thorough note of his slender face, oddly colored hair, and unique pair of eyes; she had thought to introduce herself, but Blott already mentioned her name, so she gave him a firm nod with a barely wary look. "Ahh, we're so strange," she mumbled; although she shouldn't be so surprised since she was practically raised by a Panda, she frowned.​

 

[UCBooties]

The room was starting to feel awfully cramped, William noticed. For a moment equilibrium had seemed to assert itself but tempers were rising again. Ernest strangers with good intentions and bad secrets. No deadlier thing in all the worlds it seemed...


Trent was proferring a photograph and William passed his eyes over it for form's sake but felt no recognition. The man had never come to Black Iron House but William could say nothing more about him. Instead William continued to consider Trent's story.


Travels within his world but not between. Temporal anchoring has become unmoored, a result of our presence or another indication that the overall meta-verse is failing? Too soon to tell. Entropic principles are beginning to assert themselves between non-casually linked worlds, the pattern is repeating and spreading. Propagation will only cause more anomalies which will in turn weaken the Munchausen boundaries further. The feedback loop is already in place and we may be actively drawing individuals with anomalous powers or other meta-traversal circumstances to ourselves.


We're exerting a pull just by congregating and the more people who arrive in our space and time, the stronger that pull is going to become.





William's eyes went wide with the realization. "We're visible!"


He had not meant to shout but the rest of the group swiveled to look at him. He pushed aside his embarrassment and barely stopped himself from babbling a great deal of metaphysical theory at them. Instead he kept his explanation as concise as possible. "Our presence is exerting a tangible influence on space-time. Anyone with the ability to detect that influence will be able to pinpoint exactly where and when we are."


He fixed first Genevieve and then Lisbeth with a sharp glance. "Which means anyone that is hunting us is going to have a very easy time turning us up."

 

[ArtBlott]

Blott snickered at Daisy, though not unkindly. "Yeah, come on then," she scooted over, patting the bed lazily as she sat up. Her crow gave a disgruntled squawk at his displacement and rolled onto the mattress, "Space ninjas aren't actually a thing, by the way. Not, er, when I'm from. Just me being stupid," said the bird after finishing his 'I've been moved' tantrum.


As for the photo...she scrunched up her nose. The clothes were different, but it really, really looked like...William was yelling again.


It was silly, she decided, to expect this group to take things one step at a time. She looked at everyone expectantly. "Well, when and where to? I imagine we can fill Tangelo in on the way, since we can't let him go." She waved at the still-proffered photo as her puffbird lapsed into silence.

 

[Arkadious]

As everyone sat in silence and contemplated what Blott had said, a commotion could be heard from down stairs. It sounded like a man arguing with the old inn-keeper. There was much fuss and the volume was growing louder and louder, heavy footsteps coming up the stairs as well as the tail-end of the argument "...ey're here, I know it, now move, old woman, I have to find her!!!" Before anyone could react, a figure burst though the door, but did not get far into the now very crowded room. Genevieve took a step back and gasped as the figure shook off his dusty poncho and a familiar wry grin greeted her. "Hey there, Red"

 

[cloud3332]

Just then, I heard a man randomly come out. At that moment, I quickly put the picture away in his trench coat and got out of his seat to approach the door. I stands there calmly; trying not to let his personal emotions clout his actions. Depending on what this individual does, I may strike back in kind, as he may lead a clue to the man who framed me for murder and defamed my family name.

 

[Genevieve Moulin]

For a moment Genevieve couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't even breathe.


"Fitz?" she whispered. His grin widened.


Not an hour ago she had woken from a dream where he'd been standing in another doorway, the same smile lighting his face, the same greeting causing her heart to skip a beat. That reunion had seemed so real and had ended in such heartbreak. Now, awake in the firm reality of a Shanghai inn, Genevieve felt as though all the edges of her life were blurred. Slowly, she threaded her way through the small, crowded room, brushing past her friends and feeling as though her feet didn't touch the ground.


She stood in front of him and reached a trembling and tentative hand up to brush a lock of sun-bleached hair from his forehead. The corners of her mouth lifted in a smile even as tears filled her eyes.


"Oh, Altamonte. I...I..."


She needed to tell him so many things, but somehow the words wouldn't come. She looked down, covering her face with both hands as the tears began to stream down her cheeks. She hated to cry--again--but she couldn't stop herself.


"I'm so glad you're here."

 

[Lisbeth Walpurgis]

So much was happening at once. Tivurtii proffered a picture of the man that Lisbeth assumed was the one he was looking for, and it made her heart leap into her throat. She wasn't certain, but it looked like... No, no, Arkadious would not have ruined this young man's life, or his family's reputation... would he?


"You don't truly know him at all, do you?" whispered a mean little voice at the back of her mind, "How can you be certain what sort of man he is? He could have been manipulating you from the start."





No. No. That couldn't be. She felt it in her heart- Wait. Her heart? Was it indeed hers now that Frostine had gone? Or was it still alien to her?


She was snapped out of her reverie by William's exclamation and subsequent explanation of their perilous circumstances. It made sense, she supposed, thinking back on how Frostine's world in her Book had been on its way toward destabilization while they were gathered within it. Somehow all of them together exerted a potent force throughout the multiverse. Perhaps...


Perhaps that in and of itself was what the Knights were after.


Before Lisbeth could share this bit of speculation, however, a commotion outside drew her attention to the door. Her Book appeared in her hand, ready, and she steeled herself for-


Fitzgerald.


He was back.


For a moment she tensed even further. At the moment Thanatos also wore the face of Altamonte W Fitzgerald, but with a roguish grin and a "Hey there, Red." Lisbeth's fears were quieted. Thank goodness. He was all right. As Genevieve pushed passed her, the corner of Lisbeth's mouth quirked up into a small smile. Her own feelings of relief must pale in comparison to those of the red-haired gypsy.


Lisbeth dismissed her Book and waited. Genevieve deserved a moment to savor her reunion. Who knew how long it would last this time?

 

[Arkadious]

Fitzgerald smiled warmly at Genevieve, pulling her into a tight hug and kissing the top of her head before looking up and nodding at all of his other comrades. His eyes went wide and he shoved Genevieve behind him, pulling a massive bowie knife from under his poncho when his gaze fell upon the newcomer, Trent, whom was squared up and looking prepared to fight if the need arises.


"Who are you and what are you doing here?! Speak now and truthfully, and I might let you walk away!" Fitz bellowed as he maneuvered himself between Trent and Genevieve, mentally chastising himself for not having secured the room before lowering his guard and greeting his friends. The old innkeeper had not mentioned this tall fellow when she told him where Genevieve and Lisbeth and Blott and William were, though she had mentioned the small Chinese girl currently curled up with Blott in the bed, staring at him with wide eyes.

 

[Genevieve Moulin]

Same old Fitz, Genevieve thought with a slight shake of her head and a roll of her eyes. She knew he meant well, though, and his insistence on protecting her from every perceived threat was endearing, really. Though considering the emotional toll of the past few days, she would very much have preferred to linger in that embrace than be shoved aside for a potential fight.


From behind, she laid a hand on his arm, pushing gently to lower the knife out of Trent's shocked face.


"Shhh, it's all right, darling," she said softly. "He's not a threat to us. There's a lot we need to catch you up on."


Fitz turned to look at her over his shoulder, and she met his gaze with a warm smile. She couldn't remember being happier to see someone, and despite all they were facing her heart felt light and her mind calm for once.


"Although, if you happen to have another weapon hidden in there somewhere," she flicked her eyes from his head to his toes and back with a grin and a wink, "I'm unarmed at the moment, and you know how much I dislike that."

 

[UCBooties]

Genevieve was talking to Fitz who had appeared even before they had gotten the measure of Trent. Trent himself was still standing with his photograph, waiting for the spark of recognition to light in someone's eye. Daisy was sheltering from the fresh confusion as best she could while Blott watched over her with bemusement. Lisbeth wrestled with an indecision she would not name and William...


William could feel himself slipping towards panic and tried to keep his breathing measured. His fingers twitched with nervous energy as he fought to keep the manic giggle that was building in his throat locked safely behind his teeth.


They had been looking for Fitz. Now they had found him. This was good, this was a GOOD THING and certainly not an indication that their influence was growing exponentially. Certainly not a warning that they were exerting a nearly gravitational pull on anyone even remotely tied to their current timeline who could be or might be associated with them. The increasing crowded room seemed to him to be a perfect metaphor for the effect they must be having on whatever world they currently found themselves in.


Too much, with more coming every moment. Everyone filing in and keeping calm, never mind that there was no room to move or talk or breath. How long before a future of past version of Gen or Lisbeth or William himself wandered in and joined the party? In the back of his mind William thought he could hear ancient gears groaning and the fabric of reality distending. He tried to tell himself that their little Time Traveler's Parliment wasn't going to cause causality to become completely unsprung and he did not, for one moment, believe it.


Worse yet, they were paralyzed. He could feel it, the way that their perceptions seemed to be slowing to a leaden crawl with each new revelation and coincidence that piled upon them. Now was the time for action, for movement, for traveling light and thinking on their feet and instead...


Instead this room dragged at them. Smothered them with a myriad possible futures and no indication of where they actually needed to go.


The gears slipped, groaned, caught again, and William felt the thrumming of them in the space at the back of his mind where Black Iron House should be. Time ran backwards for three seconds and no one seemed to notice. Perhaps it was only in his head.


Something terrible was about to happen. Or worse something terrible had happened, and it was just about to catch up with them.


Violence. Pain. Blood. Fear.


Death.


All of it was piled up against the glass that separated reality from probability while they stood obliviously on the other side. The pressure was increasing and the glass was bowing, nearly breaking.


For William time stopped completely, no air stirred in his lungs, no light touched his eyes, the moment frozen in its absolute banality. There was nothing he could do to stop the glass from breaking. Nothing to hold back the tide of consequences, intended and otherwise from washing over them. Nothing any of them could do.


It was already broken, they were just catching up.

 

[Arkadious]

Fitz continued to stare down the newcomer for a long moment until Gen's mention of needing a weapon got his attention and he broke out his usual wry grin as he turned back to her and deftly spin the giant bowie around in his hand so he was holding the blade and held the handle out to her.


"Here, take this one, I have a few other's stashed away." He winked and grinned then leaned in and kissed Genevieve on the cheek as he turned back to the rest of his companions as well as the new-comers. He cast one more stern look towards Trent, pointed his finger. "I'm keeping my eye on you." Then he turned and smiled at his other friends, catching Lisbeth off-guard by sweeping her up into a tight hug before setting her down and turning to grasp William by the hand and shook it, awkwardly because William seemed to be not fully there at the moment, though Fitz attributed the awkwardness to usual William-ness. He nodded at Blott and the young Chinese girl, noting that he needed to find out her name and connection as soon as possible.


"Well, I am glad to have found you guys, at last! After the door closed and we were separated, I had the pleasure of running into Tristan..." Fitz's eyes go dark for a moment as he remembers what followed. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he forced a smile and glanced around. "I managed to shake Tristan and his Knight lackeys and Jumped. I'm not entirely sure When or Where I went, because I kept Jumping to keep from being followed. I ended up in the Middle East, waaaay back When, and I may have found some info about the Lance!"

 

[ArtBlott]

Blott resisted the urge to roll her eyes and raised a hand in salutation instead. 'I'm keeping my eye on you.'? Really? Oh well, at least it confirmed that this really was Fitz and not some sort of fake meant to fool them. Weirder things had happened today.


"We're taking some downtime while a talking panda sees if he knows anything about the Lance as well, but if you have anything to share, go for it." Her crow preened as he spoke, idly hopping along the rumpled bedspread. That's right Fitz. Talking. Panda. Make something of that, if you can. Because Blott still had no idea what to make of it.

 

[Lisbeth Walpurgis]

Lisbeth stifled a yelp as Fitzgerald gripped her in a tight embrace, her boots coming several inches off of the floor before he set her down again. As he moved on to shake William's hand, Lisbeth cleared her throat and straightened her blouse and skirts, fighting the awkwardness that gripped her gut. How could he just grab her like that with no warning? She was not so close to him as Genevieve, and it was terribly improper.


"You would not complain so if it was Arkadious Grimoire who had suddenly walked in to embrace you," whispered that voice in the back of her mind, and her cheeks colored at that.


Lisbeth's gaze fell on William as Fitzgerald turned away from him, and she had to do a double take. William did not look at all well; in fact, he looked downright manic. His eyes were darting around the room, and Lisbeth realized with a chill that there was a steady rhythm to the movements. Was it just her imagination, or was there a sound, like some ancient, giant clock, ticking in time to the movement of William's eyes?


"... I may have found some info about the Lance!" Altamonte was saying.


"We're taking some downtime while a talking panda sees if he knows anything about the Lance as well, but if you have anything to share, go for it," Blott said.


Fitzgerald opened his mouth to speak.


Lisbeth took a step toward William.


Then the world exploded in a shower of glass.


The window had blown in, tiny shards tinkling off of the grate that should otherwise be protecting them. The shock wave of the explosion sent Lisbeth tumbling to the ground, ears ringing. Fitzgerald threw his arms around Genevieve, guiding them both to the floor so that he was shielding her with his body. Tivurtii was thrown into the wall before he hit the ground as well. William grabbed onto the bed and somehow managed to keep his feet. Blott and Daisy were likely the best off, being on the bed already, and simply ended up in a heap together.


Slowly Lisbeth's perceptions shifted from a blur and a steady, piercing tone to a shaky view of her room from the floor and the garbled sounds of Shanghai filtering in through the now-broken window. There was screaming. A crackle that might be fire. The sound of rubble shifting. Lisbeth's thoughts raced. A bomb must have gone off in the streets outside, but was it a deliberate attack against them or had they simply been caught in the crossfire? Should they get out or lie low? Flee on foot or try to jump away? Was anyone hurt?


Her musings were interrupted by another sound that floated in through the window and chilled her to the core. It was low and deep, she could feel it in her bones: an unearthly wail that slid an icy tentacle up her spine to whisper mad terror in her ear. She choked back a scream and somehow forced herself not to leap up and flee the room on pure panicked instinct. She looked up from the floor, her gaze found William, and she had to fight off another spike of fear.


He was grinning, his lips split in a maniac rictus. A hunger lit his eyes that Lisbeth had never seen on him before, the hunger of a predator who at last has spotted prey. His eyes told her exactly what was outside, what had made that awful, bone-chilling wail, for his eyes were the eyes of a Hunter, and there was only one thing that William Blackiron hunted:


Monsters.

 

[ArtBlott]

A long time ago, maybe three, four days tops, Blott played video games and fiddled around on the internet for most of her days. And nights. Her idea of a good time was grinding away at a horror game for 20 to 40 hours. It took a lot to spook her now, or so she thought. As the world, once again, seems to blow up around her, she decided that perhaps, after this, she would find those games rather calming.


Pushing back the panic (and ink) that bubbled at the back on her throat, she checked herself and the girl below her for damage. Blott was unhurt, save for a few angry red lines where the glass bounced off (but didn't cut, thank goodness) her skin. No ink on Daisy, though she looked a little shell shocked. Blott couldn't tell if Daisy had been cut anywhere though, and the rest were too jumbled up and in disarray to see properly. And her bird was, er, smacked into the opposite wall and sliding down it like a very battered cartoon character. Grace and beauty, that bird.


All systems go then, she supposed. She jumped to her feet. Well, tried. It was more of an awkward stumbling and untangling of sheets, but she managed to get upright, her pen gripped upright in her hand like a dagger. She didn't have paper. She couldn't fight either, really, but- she cringed as another wail pierced through the screams outside -they were basically sitting ducks in this room. She'd fight for her friends, she decided. Or run with them. Or fight things while running.


A fast but wobbly dart across the room had the Artist collecting her bird and fallen hat. She shook out both and set them on her head, hat first. "Well, come on then!" her bird bellowed, louder than she thinks she's ever been before, and sounding much more commanding, and brave, and solid than she felt (keep it together Blott), "We're boxed lunch if we don't get out of this building!"

 

[Genevieve Moulin]

The knife Fitz had just handed Genevieve clattered to the floor as he pulled her to the ground, the world shattering around them. The impact--whether from Fitz's body slamming against her or from her own hitting the floor, she wasn't sure--knocked the air from her lungs, and for an impossibly long moment reality seemed suspended. Shards of glass didn't fall but floated; sounds from the blast and the street and the chilling wail swam through the air as though through water, muffled and distorted. She felt nothing. In the depths of her mind, a voice shouted, Something is terribly wrong. Run. RUN! But the voice sounded so small and far away. So she remained motionless, watching as Fitz's knife spun on the floor beside them, the point finally coming to rest facing the two of them. An accusation? A portent?


As the knife stilled, time came back to itself, and Genevieve felt again. The weight of Fitz's body shielding hers. The broken glass pelting them like hail. The reverberations in her core from the wail creeping in through the open window. And fear. A fear unlike any she had ever known. It wasn't a fear simply borne of their current predicament but a deep and abiding acknowledgement that her life--already hanging so frailly in the balance of Whens and Wheres--would soon be torn asunder in ways that could not be repaired.


But Fitz was pulling her, trembling, to her feet, and there was no time to reflect on fears and feelings now. Swallow it. Get moving. Don't worry the rest of them more than they already are. She bent to grab the knife by her feet; now was not the time to be without a weapon.


"You know, if we're going to roll about like that," she quipped quietly to Fitz, "it would be nice if it weren't always because someone is trying to kill us."


She reached up to brush shards of glass from his hair and shoulders, his slightly shocked expression helping to push her gnawing terror further down inside.


"Well, come on then," Blott's crow commanded. "We're boxed lunch if we don't get out of this building!"


"Out of this building or out of this time?" Genevieve asked, looking from Blott to Lisbeth to William, then nodding to Fitz. "We have two Jumpers again. We should be able to get all of us away from here and somewhere safe. Safer, anyway."

 

[UCBooties]

The blast that tore through the room somehow left William on his feet, though he was not conscious of any attempt to keep his balance. When it first struck William had thought that reality itself had simply ruptured around them. He thought for sure that the strain their presence put on the world had finally become too much. The Munchhausen field of the world had failed utterly and they were about to be torn apart by the infinite teeming mass of almost-whens and never-wheres that made up the chaotic, nonsensical unplace between universes.


As his senses returned he realized that the blast had been of a more mundane nature. Already his mind was turning over the situation.


Glass was blown inward, pressure wave was generated by an explosion, not implosion. Pressure differential in the room was not enough to cause internal damage. Eardrums and ocular membranes remain intact.





He stumbled towards the broken window and twisted remains of the grate to see what he could make of the street outside. Already black smoke was rising from below.


Fire suggests high intensity heat, possible chemical explosive.





At the head of the narrow street below their window William could see a blackened and scorched crater. The carts and kiosks around the crater were fully aflame and guttering fires clung to the walls of the buildings as well. William's eyes darted up and down the street.


Every building within 5 blocks is wood. We can't stay here.





He was about to share his observation with the rest of his companions who were even now pulling themselves to their feet when he heard it. It started as a roar so low it seemed to vibrate through the floor and then rose to a hungry screech that was pitched so high it made William wince in pain as stars exploded in his vision.


William didn't recognize the cry but he knew the type very well. There was a monster loose in Shanghai.


Despite the fire and debris, Willaim found himself craning out the wrecked hole where the window had been, straining to see it. He didn't even realize he was grinning.


To his left a huge shape scuttled into view. It had four spider legs covered in deep purple chitin like a crab's. Each leg ended in a studded armored spike as wide as tree trunk that pulverized the cobblestone streets with every step. Perched between these legs was a body that seemed to be all mouth. It was covered in black and white fur like a leopard's, and shaped like an alligator's head. When it opened its mouth William could see an endless row of gleaming yellow wolf's teeth and a lashing nest of whip-like red tongues. It had dozens of gleaming black eyes on both the top and bottom of its horrible head and all of them swiveled to look at William at once.


William had no idea what it was, but at four storeys tall he knew he couldn't hope to fight it. It's mouth dropped open as it let out another grinding screech and pushed its way further into the street. The already burning store on the corner of the street collapsed as the creature shouldered past to get closer to the hotel. The roar of the building's collapse made it difficult for William to make out what his companions were shouting behind him but he did catch Genevieve's question.


"Out of this building or out of this time? We have two Jumpers again. We should be able to get all of us away from here and somewhere safe. Safer, anyway."


William considered the monster. He was not equipped to fight it. William Blackiron was nothing without preparation and this creature was something that he had never seen or heard of before. Attempting to do anything but run would be suicide.


William knew all these things, and yet he had to physically restrain himself from pulling himself out the window to get at the thing, so strong was his revulsion towards it, so fierce was his conviction that this thing should not be. Some instinct he could not name howled at him to destroy it by any means necessary, with his bare hands if he had to. That instinct sent him scrabbling at the back of his mind, desperately seeking the shard of Black Iron House.


NO!





He stopped himself just in time. Even as the creature scraped closer towards him he forced the screaming bloodlust down and pulled himself back from the window. He turned to his companions, "We have to go! We can't face what's out there."


He saw their doubt and fear, none of them had seen it yet, but it would be upon them in moments. "We can't leave this world without the Lance but we can't-"


William's words were cut short by another triumphant cry as four rope-like tongues coiled around his torso, his neck and his left leg. With a sharp yank they ripped him from the room leaving only smoke and shattered wood where he had stood.

 

[Lisbeth Walpurgis]

"WILLIAM, NO!" Lisbeth screeched, stumbling forward to reach vainly at where the hunter had been standing, as though somehow she could summon him back through sheer force of will.


"Damn it!" she swore, forcing herself into motion, "We have to get out there! We have to help him!"


She swept up her hat and squared it upon her head, then picked her way to peer out the hole where the window had been and that William had made larger with his sudden and unexpected exodus. Lisbeth froze in terror when she saw the scene. Outside was a monstrous creature, enormous, with arachnoid legs supporting a huge, furry head with too many eyes and a gaping maw. But William. Where was William?


There. She spotted him, valiantly struggling against the monster's many tongues as he resisted being dragged into its horrific jaws. A dire situation, to be sure, but at least he was still alive.


"We can't face what's out there." William's words echoed in her mind, and she knew that he was right. Not a one of them was equipped to take on the monstrosity that was tearing through the streets of Shanghai.


"We can't take it on," she growled, her Book appearing in her outstretched hand as she pulled out her pen with the other, "But I know someone who can."


And she began to Write.


Her pen flew across the page, almost a blur, leaving a trail of neat script:


A massive warrior of terrifying power, his midnight black armor is crowned by an antlered helm. A cloak of ravens' feathers flows past his shoulders to brush the ground, stirred as though by a chill wind and leaving eddies of snow in its wake. He wields a sword of blackened steel, nearly as long as he is tall. His aura of power is almost a physical thing, as though no room is large enough to contain his presence. A black knight, he serves Queen Morana of the Winter Court of the Fey as her Winter Knight.





"Raven Knight!" Lisbeth called into the fiery chaos of the night air, "I summon thee! Aid me in this time of need!"


With a final flourish of her pen, an arctic wind swirled before the Writer, and there her Creation stood, seven feet tall and rendered in every detail she had imagined as she had Written him. Though she could feel the force of his gaze, there was nothing but blackness past the eye slits in his helm. Wasting no time, Lisbeth pointed at the monster outside.


"Destroy that creature, and rescue William!" she commanded.


The Raven Knight turned to look at his given quarry, then he nodded once and was gone, leaping gracefully to the street below and drawing his massive sword in one smooth motion. He advanced on the creature, the ground frosting over and flames guttering low in his wake.


Lisbeth waited and prayed that William could hold out for just a few more moments. She'd done all she could to help him now.

 

[cloud3332]

Just as Tivurtii felt intimidated by this strange man, he noticed that many of the folks in the same room greeted a man named Fitzgerald. Seeing the group of people acting happy around him reminded him of his family back in England. He noticed everyone conversed around Fitz, and felt that he should stand in the side and try not to bother. Not too long after, he felt his body lifted from underneath him which caused him to fly against a wall. At a daze, Tivurtii slowly tries to get back onto his feet. “What on earth is going on” Just then, he realized that Lisbeth was screaming William’s name.


He sees Lisbeth run off, but was unable to stop her. Tivurtii went right after her. He was about to interrupt her, but by that time she was already scribbling some long phrase on a parchment of paper. Not soon after he heard her call out Raven Knight. A summoned object had appeared right before them. Tivurtii is versed in Hand-To-Hand abilities, but this was something he is not prepared for.


Nonetheless, he jumped form the window and landed on his feet. He looked onward and saw this hideous beast. He sprints forward and charges at the monster. "Hang in there", Tivurtii shouted loudly. He jumped in the air to kick the tongue that tried to grab Will, setting him free. As he kicked Will free, Tivurtii was grabbed on the arms by one of the tongues. He swung his body upward and punched the tongue, knocking him loose. Tivurtii fell to the ground. He was not moving.

 

[ArtBlott]

"Outside for now, I guess," Blott said tersely, peering out to where half their group had disappeared to, "We'll Jump once we have anyone, I guess? Uh," She paused. No one else was moving, seemingly frozen in shock, "We should try to stay together, so..." she hovered, unsure of herself. Of the situation. She could die. Then again, she always could. This wasn't a game. There was no respawn. This wasn't her art. She couldn't white it out or burn it away.


"I'm helping," she whispered, and ran out into the street. Thing were tipped over. Things were on fire. Dark red smeared the ground. And that awful, awful yowling! It echoed off the walls and down. It made her dizzy. She covered her ears and charged ahead, her crow taking flight and darting ahead of her. She kept pace, trusting the bird to show her way as it dipped and dove between falling debris and...laundry lines? What were those? They strung from building to building, long, strung out lines, snarling and knotting on each other. If she looked hard enough, they seemed to be vibrating, tugging and pulling at the air. She made a note to mention that to William if he hadn't been eaten yet...Blott ran faster.


She caught up quickly, rounding the corner in time to see a feather-caped knight seem to mist into being, a trail of frost following it(him?) as it stroke toward towards a massive spideresque demon-thing. Whoa, human brains are not designed to look at that, whatever it was. She slid to a halt, her boots sliding on, oh ew, don't look down, and watch as Trent took a nasty tumble to the ground. Paper, she needed paper.


Well, that would work. A curtain, blown out of a window and still attached to it's rod lay in a heap under chunks of stone and rubble and quite possibly a human leg. It wouldn't be as strong as usual, she knew ad she grabbed the fabric and pulled it taught. The weaving was cheap and loose, no way would she get a tight line out of it, but it would do. Something simple and fast, either way.


And so it came, unraveling from the fabric as the fabric itself fell away to ash. All muscle and scale and too many teeth, made to rip and tear instead of bite and swallow. Creative licence, let's say. It needed no orders, the giant behemoth snake whipping down the street. All silver and blacks, it's lines not crisp and clear like the horses from before, but webbed and blurry, bristling into itself. Spanning the length of two sedans, it flashed down, past the dark knight with his frost and flame, and curled clumsily around the fallen fighter, wrippling away from the lashing tongue-like structures of the beast and returning to it's master.


It was not a pleasant return. Blott winced as she saw Trent's head hit concrete more than once. Still he was out of the way. William was free too, and hopefully as unscathed as one could be, considering. Blott had made her contribution at least. Forcing a smile, she flashed at thumbs up at Lisbeth.

 

[Genevieve Moulin]

The only monsters Genevieve had ever faced were human ones. She was unprepared for anything like this and stood frozen in horror as the thing swept William from their midst. If time had stopped before, surely now it had sped to three times its usual pace. She barely had time to mutter, "The fool!" as Trent hurtled out the window behind Lisbeth's creation before Blott, too, was outside drawing yet another beast.


"Damn it all to hell!" she shouted, as first William and then Trent were dashed to the pavement, neither moving.


Through the gaping hole in the wall she could see columns of thick, black smoke unfurling from the buildings on either side of the inn. They had to move--it was possible death on the street but certain death once the inn caught fire.


"Fitz, stick with Daisy," she commanded, gesturing to the slight girl cowering on the bed. They knew so little about the girl, but Genevieve was prepared to bet she hadn't expected a kind offer of help to a group of strange travelers to turn out quite like this. "We have to get everyone out of here."


Lisbeth was transfixed at the hole that had recently been a window, her hands gripping her book so hard the knuckles were blanched white. "Lisbeth," Genevieve grabbed her shoulder and shook her slightly. "Lisbeth, we have to go. We can't stay here. He'll be fine. They'll be fine. But we have to go."


Genevieve did not believe this. She wasn't sure how William or Trent could survive given the fall both had just taken with an indestructible monster looming over them. Or, for that matter, how the rest of them would protect themselves once they were out in the open street. All she knew was that they could not stay here.


Though she seemed reluctant to take her eyes from the scene below, the Writer nodded and headed for the door. The narrow hallway was already filling with a choking cloud of smoke. Genevieve briefly wondered about the other guests, the other residents of this street. How many would die today? More blood on our hands. But she covered her mouth and nose with her forearm and gestured the others out into the smoke-filled hallway. They had to keep moving. Perhaps one day she could make amends for the loss of life she had caused, if ever she could stop running for her own. But today was not destined to be that day.


The hall was dark and eerily quiet save for a distant and terrifying crackle that gave even more urgency to their escape. Genevieve felt along the wall, unable to see her own hand in front of her, following the sounds of her friends' choking and sputtering. She stumbled down the first several steps, not realizing she'd reached the staircase. Recovering her balance she stopped and leaned against the wall, the others' footsteps and coughs growing fainter and further away. It was hard to breathe. It was hard to think. Everything was fuzzy, and if she could just sit down...


No.


Through the smoke in the room and the fog in her head, Genevieve forced herself to feel with her foot along the stair to the next one. Then the next. Her lungs were on fire. Her eyes stung and tears streamed down her face. But then there was light. And air. And Fitz and Lisbeth and Daisy. Genevieve sunk to the pavement on her hands and knees, coughing so hard her chest felt raw.


"Thank God, you're all okay," she said between coughing fits. "Now let's get the others and jump the hell out of here."

 

[Arkadious]

Fitzgerald scowled but did as Genevieve bid him to do, grabbing up the girl named Daisy and throwing his poncho around her to help shield her from the smoke and searing heat of the flames. The was a slight nagging pain in his chest but he ignored it and scooped up Daisy and tore off after Gen, who grabbed Lisbeth and took off down the hall, making their way out of the inn. Several times, Genevieve staggered, and several times, Fitz was there to get her back on her feet until they were clear of the smoking inn and in the streets of a now chaotic Shanghai.


"Thank God, you're all okay," Gen said between coughs. "Now let's get the others and jump the hell out of here."


"You got it, Red, wait right here!" Fitz said as he sat Daisy down next to Gen and Lisbeth moved next to them. Fitz looked up and scanned around, spotted Blott next to William and the new fellow. Yelling for Blott's attention, Fitz ran over and helped her rouse William, who stood to his feet groggily, and then grabbed the unconscious Trent and proceeded to drag him towards the others while Blott helped William. Once everyone was gathered together, Fitz looked around at everyone and then glanced over his shoulder to see that Blott and Lisbeth's creations were keeping that...Thing preoccupied.


"Ok, since there's more of us than they were before, this is going to be a bit tricky to Jump all at once, but we should be able to do it, the question is to Where and When?! And Wherever it is, I suggest we figure it out quickly, because I don't know how much time we have before that, whatever it is, gets tired of your Creations and comes for us."

 

[Marianne]

One moment Daisy was quietly admiring the people around her, attempting to learn so much about them at such short notice. The next moment. . . Well, everything was equally as unexpected as her first encounter with this group, and the chain of events that transpired. All she knew was she was tackled down and her entire right arm felt numb, her head throbbed, and mouth was bleeding; that being said, things were not going so great on her hand. For, she was so traumatized by this experience, her doughy eyes large and frightened - she blacked out. Her body was practically stiff beneath Blott's, and so much was happening that when the warmth from the young lady's body had left hers, she felt vulnurable. Every piece of her conscious screamed at her to move before it was too late. Yet, nothing grabbed for her in her daze, well nothing that had any ill intentions seeing as the young lady was lifted immediately into a masculine pair of arms, a covering cloaking her from head to do, shielding her from what smelt like - smoke?

Since when were there flames? What was happening? Daisy's fingers twitched and when she was prompted somewhere, the ground most likely, she finally began to process her surroundings with a glazed expression. Her ears immediately began to ring, despite her dismay, and when she tuned back to reality she heard:

"Ok, since there's more of us than they were before, this is going to be a bit tricky to Jump all at once, but we should be able to do it, the question is to Where and When?! And Wherever it is, I suggest we figure it out quickly, because I don't know how much time we have before that, whatever it is, gets tired of your Creations and comes for us." Creations? What creations?

None of that mattered though because everyone needed a place, a time. Suddenly, Daisy croaked, "France," She went there once, when she was very little, before she had met her Master. All she could vaguely remember was a vineyard and an abandoned barn, nothing that was significant, but everything was left unattended. However, thinking about the current situation, an isolated place wouldn't help, they needed more people around. The larger the crowd, the larger the attention that was drawn to you, and the lesser chance of a successful attack without interferences. Right?​

 

[Lisbeth Walpurgis]

Lisbeth's gaze was transfixed as the Raven Knight strode with deadly purpose toward the thing that still had William. She almost didn't register that Trent was leaping out the window, running off like a shot. The young man moved with surprising agility, attacking the creature's tongues to free William but being dashed senseless to the street in the process. The Raven Knight, one of his objectives taken care of, turned his full attention on the creature. He crouched low, then sprang into the air, leaping clear up onto the back of the beast. He grabbed a fistful of the thing's fur to keep his balance, then raised his sword high-


"Lisbeth," Genevieve was shaking her, "Lisbeth, we have to go. We can't stay here. He'll be fine. They'll be fine. But we have to go."


The Writer blinked and turned to Genevieve, an inhuman screech piercing the chaos outside as the Raven Knight's sword found its mark. She resisted the urge to look back outside and willed herself into motion. Genevieve was right; the building was not safe, and she would be damned if she died because she was too distracted to leave a burning building.


A few choking minutes later and they were all safely outside. Fitzgerald and Blott rounded up William and Trent, the two men battered but alive.


"Ok," Fitz began, "since there's more of us than there were before, this is going to be a bit tricky to Jump all at once, but we should be able to do it, the question is to Where and When?! And Wherever it is, I suggest we figure it out quickly, because I don't know how much time we have before that, whatever it is, gets tired of your Creations and comes for us."


"France," Daisy croaked, looking only half-aware, but no one else seemed to be forthcoming with suggestions. Lisbeth certainly couldn't think of a single Where or When that she had visited that wasn't already compromised by the Knights, except for Frostine's world, and if their last visit was any indication that wasn't an option.


Lisbeth thought she caught a slight widening of Genevieve's eyes, but then Fitzgerald gave a brusque nod and pulled everyone together.


"We need everyone touching," he ordered, "Yeah, that's good. All right, Red, you ready?"


He flashed a grin, and before Genevieve could even respond he cried, "Let's go!" and reality distorted around them.


Everything slowed to a crawl and was drawn into hyper focus. The monster's wailing was even more hideous at this speed, every undulation a clear wave drawn through the air. Lisbeth was intimately aware of the very moment that the Raven Knight at last drove the point of his sword into the creature's brain. She could have counted every barb of every feather on the Knight's cloak. She felt stretched taught and compacted under enormous pressure all at once. Something had to give, something had to change, or she would surely go mad or die or both.


France. She knew little of France. She'd heard of Paris, and to her mind was called an image of a metal tower. The world around them, as though latching onto the idea, suddenly sped past in a blur, countless Wheres and Whens that had been or would be or might never exist at all passing by them simultaneously. It was almost worse than the agonizing slowness of the Shanghai street, and Lisbeth screwed her eyes shut to wait it out.


All at once it was quiet, save the chirping of birds and the gentle lapping of water. Lisbeth could hear the low buzz of conversation nearby. She opened her eyes.


They were all huddled together on a riverfront walk. A line of trees stood behind them. Pedestrians walked along the river, alone or in twos and threes, all oblivious to the group of travelers that had suddenly appeared in their midst. Looming across the river was the imposing metal tower that Lisbeth had imagined, and not far away was a covered bridge that connected the two banks of the river.


They disentangled themselves from one another, and Fitzgerald threw his arms out wide.


"Bienvenue à Paris!" he cried with a cheerful grin, then he winced and put a hand to his chest, "Ah, so, what now, guys?"


Lisbeth glanced at the still-unconscious Trent, glad he wasn't aware to hear what she was about to say.


"We need to find somewhere that we can rest for a minute and talk," she said, "Because, according to the note that Mr. Nope sent with Daisy to us, we need to find the Architect in order to find the Lance of Longinus, and at this point I am reasonably certain that Arkadious Grimoire is the Architect."

 

[ArtBlott]

Blott twisted as time warped around them. Burn. Though it felt like she was fighting through sludge, she managed to hit her target, the crow's feather warping out of the bubble of shifting (collapsing?) Whens and Wheres, igniting her snake as everything fell away. It made her nauseous to watch as time and space picked up speed, fluttering around them as they were all hurled towards France. At least, Blott thought someone had said France. She really hoped they didn't need everyone to focus on their destination, lest they all end up impaled on a lance. Or lacking pants. Or at a dance. Blott tittered slightly as the world reshaped itself into a scenic riverside trail. Wow she was tired.


The Artist rubbed at her eyes, waiting for her brain to settle back into some form of order and trying very hard to ignore the twisting in her gut that came from, once again, a lot of 'magic' happening around her.


"Hey, is that knight guy single?" Wait, no that wasn't what she was going to ask. She glowered at her crow, who gave a birdy shrug. "I mean, no, the Architect. Arkadious. Isn't he that guy who keeps showing up both randomly and conveniently to help us along?" She stowed her Pen away and stretched until her back popped, "We can't exactly hunt down someone who barely seems to exist. Ah, but-" she glanced around, "You're probably right. Here isn't the place."


As she waited for everyone else to sort themselves out, she took the time to look around properly. It was a lovely place, though the dress style was peculiar. She knew it was old by at least a century, probably more. Which meant still no phone charger, or internet, so her means of research (and thus, Architect Hunting) was still limited. Any cash on her was still obsolete, and they all, once again, stuck out like a sore thumb. Why did everyone like going to places without jeans or wifi??