The #Broken_Dagger Forum

The Brothers Jacob were an ungainly pair. Homely, really. One short and thick all around, so thick that he was possibly bulging in the area of the waistband. The other, the younger brother, was taller and far more wiry. They, dressed in mostly neat Constabulary uniforms, would arrive to the home of Renea Sundance early in the morning with a nasty disposition and a letter in hand. There had been a watch upon her corpse. A loose one, yes, but still.. it didn't take long to track her body, and her blood, back to the most logical place it would stamble.

The note was from the Governor. The Constables stayed to make sure it was read.

Renea (and please note I did not say Marshall Sundance),

Welcome back to life. We missed you dearly. That said, you are now a terrifying and horrific abomination. Congratulations. Therefore, I am about half a day from sending the mass of our stalwart and heroic populace at you with pitchforks and so, so much fire. So much fire. I can't emphasize enough how much fire I intend to use. I'm not sure your imagination can encompass it, but I am quite sure it could encompass your body quite easily and quickly. I realize that the Jacob Brothers are a particularly unpleasant lunch date, even if you add up all of their combined assuredly charming qualities, but if you do not come with them to see me, now, as in this very moment, I will see your body burnt to ashes by sunset. The fatter brother has syphilis, the younger has had three incidents of rabies in the last year. I suggest that you fight any urge to gnaw upon their flesh. Only the best for my friends.

Yours endearingly,
Glenn

That was, of course why they stayed, to escort her to the Meetinghouse.

The door was opened not by any member of the family rather one of the staff Renea employed to take care of the house. She'd done so before Brandon and Rhys had even returned let alone moved back in with her as she was often away and hated to cook for herself. The man who opened the door was in charge of the small staff, in charge of making sure the home had everything it needed, bringing issues to Renea or Brandon that required their attention and was in charge of making sure the visitors to the house were welcome. This by answering the door and giving them a long disdainful look while waiting for them to speak. In this case the only reply was a small envelope with Renea's name written across it and so this gentleman, Marcus, left the brothers standing on the porch looking in to the common room where a motley gathering appeared to be happening and carried the letter to the injured woman who had been ensconced on a couch in the center of it all. A small boy was curled up beside her, careful not to jostly any of the newer injuries but he did not look as if he was about to let go of her for anything.

Renea opened the letter and tried to read around her son. A dryly amused look followed by a short bark of laughter, all of which the constable brothers could see from their perch on the porch, and then Renea passed it around the room for the others who had gathered to read.

She wasn't entirely pleased that her house was full of family at the moment but neither was she entirely displeased. It certainly meant that she was unlikely to be able to slip out when her need to do something grew too strong to ignore but for a woman who had grown up with no one it was a nice change to have so many who cared about her. Brandon himself consigned the letter to the flames burning on the hearth and shook his head definitively as Renea watched him. She shrugged and made a quiet request of Marcus who slipped away to return with paper, ink and quill which she used to reply to the Governors polite request.

Glenn,
So kind of you to welcome me home, the fruit basket must have gotten lost on the way but I appreciate your thoughtfullness at least. Unfortunately I am quite unable to go anywhere at the moment, thanks in large part to your man Giuseppe, however you are more than welcome to join me and my family for dinner tonight if seeing me is a priority. Your concern is noted and unnecessary but I understand your need to confirm for yourself and hold no ill feelings towards you for it, as I mentioned you are more than welcome here.

I beg you, however, when thinking of fire to please remember exactly who some of my family members are before you attempt to consign yourself, our fellow villagers and quite possibly a large number of buildings in the surrounding area to the flames. I assure you mine will remain quite untouched.

We will be having roast pork and pudding for dinner tonight, I hope that meets your pleasure.

Courteously,
Renea

P.S. I have sent this letter via urchin as you no doubt detect, your constables have been invited in for tea as I assumed you would prefer to have me under eyes. You can collect them when you come for dinner.

Her family? Glenn Burnie had an entire government branch set to decoding and unraveling information and the lot of them couldn't make sense of her family. Granted, they had better things to do. It was all a headache. Inbreeding. It had to be inbreeding. "Things to do." He muttered to himself. "One: Throw Renea and her entire family into the labyrinth. Two: import lions from somewhere. Or snakes. Snakes would work too. Lots of snakes." Damn the fact that public works projects took so damned long. Damn it all. No labyrinth yet. Ahem. He'd just have to make this work then. He began to write.

Unfortunately, all of this took time, time where a crowd was forming, time where people were starting to get angry, time where a lone stone or two were thrown at windows, despite the Constables being in there (it just so happened that Burnie picked a pair of Constables that no one liked). Still, no fire and no pitchforks as of yet! Angry mutterings but no fire. Yet. Look at how progressive Myrken had become! They might have even been a day from that eventuality.

Eventually, however, another contingent arrived to the house, led by a particular red haired young lady. Mary Ford, junior member of the Inquisitory, personal friend of Cinnabar Calomel, excellent crafter of cloth puppets that vaguely resemble unicorns, knocked upon the door. With her were four Constables carrying some very large enshrouded object. She had no weapons upon her. What she did have, however, was a message and a sheepish admission that she told to only read it in person.

When she was finally let in, she did everything in her power to insist the children leave the room. When that failed she cleared her throat, standing before Renea, Brandon, Rhy, Connor, a pair of newborn twins, and whoever else happened to be in the room and spoke. "I am.. going to censor some of this, given the age of some of the youngsters in the room. Please do not tell the governor." She put a hand in front of her face as if getting into character and then nodded firmly.

The voice that came out of her mouth was somewhere between a scream and a screech. One would think it not possible for her body, but it was quite well enunciated, all of it. She was receiving formal training. "How DARE you come back from the dead, you unpleasant... un.. no, not nice, dog, no.. female dog? Moreover how DARE you die in the first place? You don't see Agnieszka dying? Not recently at least. All you've done since I gave you a chance is make a ... very likely going to get sent to somewhere very unpleasant when you die, uh, again, highly unintelligent person of yourself. You unleashed a demon, ran off and almost caused a war, got in who knows how many stupid, pointless fights, and then got yourself killed! And then came back!" Poor Mary was having a hard time keeping the screaming up with all of the lengthy and confusing edits, so she had to take a breath at this point.

When she continued it was with renewed fury, though the swears had been excised completely. Even a member of the inquisitory had limits on just what she could accomplish. "Most of all, you have no idea where you are! You have no idea what these people have been through! They saw their own dead relatives, their husbands, wives, parents, children rise up. If not for what Aleksei had said about your soul, you would have been burnt upon your death, immediately." Mary looked at them plainly, a frown on her face suddenly, almost pleading as she paused in her reading. She spoke in her own voice. "He's right! I lost my Uncle Fredrick TWICE to the Fiend that summer and.." She swallowed and looked back down, shaking it off and returning to the screaming and harsh tones of the note. "But as it is, you are the definition of undead. More than that, the LAST undead person we dealt with here tried to kill Kerrak and was a demon in disguise. Perhaps not even knowing it until the moment it was activated and made to strike. These people outside, the ones who you swore to protect, who you've helped train, are scared, because of you."

Her tone softened a little, as if she had been carefully coached shift gears at this very point. It was a bit overblown but then so was her entire performance. "You terrify them. I tried to get ahead of all this, to get you to me where I might be able to spin this, to make this work, to put enough doubt in their minds that they'd see your as a trick, a way to draw out Jirai, perhaps. You couldn't go back to your old life but you could at least forge a new one. This, despite the fact I was furious at you and your lack of empathy and lack of foresightedness, and honestly, your basic lack of competence. That is as far as my loyalty goes. I would TRY to help you. You're running out of time, though. This won't just go away. The crowd will get angrier and angrier." she took a breath and looked around the room. "Sorry," speaking in her own voice again, but with a sad little shrug. "but they will. We will. We have our reasons. I'm..an educated woman, and just being in here, in this room," she shook her head and clenched her eyes tight as she could.

Then, she recovered once more; the harsher voice returned as she went back to script. "Again, I am trying to save you. I have no idea what Giuseppe did or why as I haven't had any contact with him since he went rogue after your little love-trip to Thessilane." Mary coughed and went red for a moment, but continued onward. "but, I am presenting you one more opportunity to get out of that house and to where we might be able to work out some solution to this. Were I to step into that house myself, the crowd would accept nothing less than me walking out with your head on a pike."

She pointed to the now closed door and continued. "In light of your current physical state, I have summoned a palanquin for you. I don't care who else accompanies you, but you need to ride in it or else all will be lost." Were any of them to look through the window, they would see a very lovely casket being unveiled just outside the door, the object that the Constables brought. Renea's palanquin. "We still have a chance to turn the tide on this, if you are, in fact, neither a ravaging zombie or demon thrall, but you need to be reasonable and go along with this now."

Mary took one last breath and spoke the last bits in her own voice. "The people outside are scared. You rose from the dead and walked home, bleeding. For all they know, everyone in this house is infected or soon to be. They, and their neighbors and their neighbors' neighbors are going to demand a very permanent solution if I can't take control very quickly and make it seem like part of some plan. I can do that. That's what I do. But if you do not cooperate, on my terms, not yours, I won't be able to hold them back. Don't be a..." she coughed and shook her head. "I'm not saying that." Then, sheepishly, she looked around, expecting positively hateful stares and maybe a sword in her gut. "Sorry. That's all. If you're coming, we should go."

There were many songs in front of this house. Songs that could, more accurately, be called yelling, or a tense undercurrent of murmuring. They were humanity's song, and Catch was a stray-dog addition to it, the addled man mournfully trailing after it, like an unpopular child who was not invited, but might be tolerated. After all, there was a bigger anger, here, and what had Catch ever done, within sight of Myrken's humanity? Nothing, really.

And so he participates without full understanding, lurking at the edges of the crowd, stealing timid glances at them to see what they are doing, and - in his own, simple way - attempts to emulate them. Up to, and including, stooping to pick up pebbles, and tossing them at the house with a simple-minded grin. It was fun, and he does a small, shuffling dance, and begins to gather all kinds of rocks, so that he may throw them.

At the governer's office

Tall he was, just like Catch himself, he stood over six feet, huge hands and bare feet as he tried to push his way to see the Governor. He was angry. "WHY?! WHYAREYOUTRYING TOBURNHERYOUEVILMAN!" The was so much rage in his voice, a voice that was deep like a man's, but inflected like a child. White hair flew around his head wildly as the barbarian beat at the door. His fists rattle it on hinges. His Mommy! This EVIL CREATURE was trying to kill her again! Make her suffer! NO! He would NOT ALLOW IT.

The energy flowed from him, whispers pushing against the minds of the people within a few yards of him. Whispers of madness and things Not Meant to Be Known. He was angry, and he couldn't hold it in anymore.

"YOUWILLRUINWHATIDID! STOPITSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPIT!" He shrieks the words at the door as he beats upon it.

Glenn wanted Jarod. Now he has him right there.

"Hm." Burnie looked down at the papers before him. "That's funny." He mused to himself, calm, patient. "I didn't think i had an appointment now." He stretched his neck, causing a rather pleasant cracking noise and looked back to the papers. Maybe he shouldn't have sent those four Constables away with Mary. Ah well.

Finally, perhaps ninety seconds later, which would be towards the end of that rant, he'd casually rise to his feet, casually walk to his specially made door. Specially made how, one may ask? Burnie would be glad for the question. Some doors are hinged one way or another. This one was hinged both ways, which meant he could open it OUTWARD right now, quickly and suddenly, and quite likely cause the door to smack Jarod right in the face. He did not seem put off in the least by those lingering thoughts.

"Well, come in already. I'm expecting either a moderately comely corpse or a nasty letter soon. We haven't all day."

On his way back from running a message to one of his master's customers, Cherny the miller's boy presents a slight figure in an oversized coat picks his way around the edges of the growing mob; trotting around the outskirts, craning here and there for a glimpse of... whatever it is. There were murmurs, angry and fearful, and it's for that reason that he refrains from pushing further into the crowd. He's also too short to see the focus of its ire behind a wall of backs and shoulders, unwilling to risk being pressed or crushed within that mass of humanity.

Still, the boy's curious.

So instead he seeks a vantage-point - there, across the street, a garden wall that should give the height he needs; shoes are kicked off and stuffed into coat pockets to give him purchase as he scrambles up, sitting astride the brickwork and squinting towards the house that seems to be the centre of attention.

Whenever there is a gathering of any sort, one can bet on a certain blonde urchin being involved (even if a certain blonde urchin has likely been grounded for trying to chew off a customer's face. Bad for business, that). The crowd is full of rumors, Cat and company foremost in spreading them. Or maybe they were just listening to the rumors and collecting them for later. It was always hard to say for sure. But rumors there are aplenty, the Ashfiend featuring prominently in many - though not, a careful observer would note, in any coming from Cat's mouth. In fact, the blue eyed child was working free of the throng, strongly suspecting that one did not wish to be present here much longer.

The crowd was getting larger and in interior of the house was filled with the sound of rocks hitting the walls outside. At first the sound of breaking glass had joined it but the glass had all broken by this point. THere had been a debate, once the rocks started being thrown, about whether or not Connor should set up a magical field that would return the missiles back to their owners at speed but Renea had vetoed that. It was bad enough they were afraid of her but such a show of magic would only cause further inflammation among the crowd and if at least some sign of their destruction didn't take they'd likely try to up the game and that could quite easily lead to disaster.

No, the rocks would enter the house but before they could reach any further than a foot into the rooms they'd hit a shield of force and bounce harmlessly to the floor. All of this Mary and the pair of constables inside could see. Nothing the crowd was doing would touch those inside this house.

Mary was listened to, by Renea at least, in total silence. It was only after the girl had finished and stood uncomfortably in her own silence for a few minutes while Renea studied her that the former marshal finally spoke. "I love how he makes it sound like I did all this on purpose." She was amused by the singing telegram more than anything else really. She had suggested a perfectly acceptable compromise to her leaving the house but the governor would not allow anything but his way to prevail and he very shortly was going to learn that Renea had lost all patience with towing the company line. She had done her best, yes she had made mistakes but she had gone quite some way in helping to recitfy those mistakes. The miltia was a well oiled machine and the axe wielding maniac that had haunted the town (which she had had nothing to do with, it was the other demons she'd let loose) was dead. She'd stopped some very creepy wormdog things from spreading throughout the town but if all of that was considered to be incompetent...well then good luck finding someone else to do the job.

"Please wait outside. I'll send someone to get you in a few minutes." This to Mary and the constables. She wanted to confer with family, decide what was to be done and how and she didn't want Burnie's mouthpiece to be party to any of it. "Marcus, please show them out and ask the crowd to disperse." Not that she thought they would but it should at least be suggested.

Marcus nodded and ushered their guests towards the door. He didn't wait to see whether they were following or not as he took a step out and raised his voice to the crowd. "Miss Renea kindly requests you all go back to your houses. If a mob is required in the future you shall be invited back." He was nimble for an older gentleman but even with his ducking and weaving he managed to get pelted in the ribs with one of the rocks. He didn't stay to wait for a response but scampered back into the house and behind the door, waiting for the governor's people to leave so he could shut it behind them.

Mary just stared at the lot of them. It wasn't really... Did she not understand? Convenient escape from a mob riot. She just stared and stared, because this was... it was QUITE wrong, even for a woman of reason and science like her! Finally. "Thank you for not biting me." With that, she and the Brothers Jacob (the younger of two giving Mary rather improper looks), ended up on either side of the red-haired young lady, and stepped right outside.

And look, there was a growing mob. Well, she understood that. She had to say SOMETHING. "Ahem. Ahem. We... uh.. are getting to the bottom of this situation! Shortly. Please remain calm." She then duly hid behind the older, more rotund Jacob brother. And waited.

Stones here, stones there - Catch made certain to pick the prettiest stones, for they looked the best as he arced them, his powerful arms slipping through with half-hearted swings, yet still sending them on ferocious paths to the house. It is fun, very-much fun, with so many people, and did he spy a Cherny and a Cat? Well, of course. Why would they not be here? It is a festival, a party of sorts. A Stone-Throwing Party. With many stones clutched in his massive paw, the addled man turns in place, uttering a giggle to himself, and he is prepared to throw again when there is a man, and the addled creature half-stops in his throw. Because throwing at a man, that is wrong, and -

Those around him, the massive single-cells that made this Human Organism, they continued to pelt, and though Catch was ignorant of the fear and the anger, this, this he could read more clearly. Renea. Miss Renea. She had woken up! And had Catch not told them she would, that she was merely sleeping? Suddenly revolted, the madman casts his stones on the ground.

"This is Miss Renea's house! Stop it!" Catch's voice, when he wished to use it, was just as gigantic as his chest promised. He reaches out for the nearest man, but shrinks back. No. He musn't hit, and Ser Cinnabar said so. Yet, still, they threw stones. They were still hurtful. Catch, at the edge of the crowd, fumes, until his mismatched eyes catch upon something, and he gets an idea that brightens him. No, no, he would not hit the, for hitting was wrong. But Ser Cinnabar did not say anything about this sort of thing. For a moment, he hesitates, for suddenly there are the Jacobs Brothers, and Miss Mary, and perhaps they could - no. No, they were not being so helpful. But Catch, Catch will help them.

With a grace belying his size, Catch bounds to the side of the house, where the wood-chopping was done. He hefts the axe in his hands, feeling it familiar, settling into the callouses of his paws, the muscles knowing their memories, without the worm-paths needing to direct them.

"STOP. THROWING." he will yell it one more time, before, with one great bound, the addled man swings his axe, cooly, methodically, not for people. Just their arms. They cannot throw stones if they haven't got arms, and this way - this way Catch will not have to hit anyone. He is terribly clever, you see. Ser Cinnabar will be proud.

Kerthunk

The door slams directly into the madman's face. There is a moment.. a moment the madness swims in the room. The air becomes oppressive with the hint of lingering violence. The scent of blood washes in from no where, seeming to fill the room. Maggots crawl from the floor boards.. maggots made of blood. Jarod stares at Glenn with milk white eyes, eyes that are narrowed with the promise of death.

Then.. those eyes widen, looking like the eyes of a hurt child. The blood-scent and maggots vanish, and the barbarian falls to his rump and stares up at Glenn. He stares with wide, hurt eyes. The eyes of a pained child. Look what you have done, Mister Burnie. For a moment, time stretches out in all directions, looping impossibly as it seems to bend to Jarod's will. Then it all goes back to normal and his lower lip quivers. It quivers. His eyes close and tears begin to roll down his cheek and he starts to cry. A loud sob that breaks up his words.

"You-"sniffle-"are so"hicsnort MEAN!" He buries his face in his hands and wails. The only words that can be made out are "Mommy" and "Lamai".

"Maggots made of blood. It's never butterflies made of candy and honey. Or tasteful naked pictures of ladies whose name begin with A. It's always six-ti..." He coughed and shook his head. Perhaps this being was not quite ready for those pictures anyway. "Astoundingly, all I know about you is what little I got out of Renea and a very hastily written note by a quite charming Southerner who had gone far, far off of his gourd." Which, just so happened to be where Jarod here seemed to be.

"Now then, what I DO understand is that you're responsible for Renea's more... youthful presence, and also likely her return to life. Despite what you think, I have every intention on saving her, but I'm going to need your help to do so. And quickly, or else people will get very, very angry and do their best to hurt her. I think we can stop this though, if we work together." he was calm, but hardly patronizing. There was no time to be patronizing. "Will you come in so we can work on this, or will you just lay quivering out there as all your hard work gets undone? I need three things and quickly. And either you're part of the solution in saving her or you're part of the problem that's getting her killed... again. So.." Burnie stepped back into his office giving Jarod every opportunity to enter under his own power.

N`vek, Myrkentown's resident squidboy was among those blocked off and trapped in Renea's house. There was a mob outside! Not a fully fledged one at least, there were no torches or pitchforks! Just rocks and yells. The cursed boy put on a brave face (and skin - not a spot of terror color or camouflage coursed across his skin) and stood by the not a horrible zombie, Renea. She was alive and... well almost perfectly healthy. She bore those injuries from the issue with Solena and Giuseppe. He wouldn't cower this time... He'd protect the home's inhabitants.

It's a spectacle, certainly, something that adds a bit of excitement to the day. A sense of expectation, of tension, of waiting for... something. There's Catch, padding around the edges of the crowd, offered a wave and a grin should the boy catch his eye, before his attention returns to the house.

The crowd is getting angrier, the clatter of stones against the house's walls and thin sound of breaking glass more frequent; no longer murmuring, now they have something about them akin to the buzz of an angry hive. The miller's boy watches uncertainly from his perch, still unsure as to the reason for the gathering. Constables emerge, but not much is explained. More stones.

Then there's shouting, bellowing, and it's the addled man again, standing a full head taller than most of the rest of the crowd, pale hair marking him out even more. Telling them to stop, but ignored despite his size. Moving away, and he looks back to the door, the pair of Constables standing in front of the growing mob.

Catch's voice booms out again, and it's what he's holding that has the boy scrambling to his feet to balance precariously atop the wall. The man's angry, and he has an axe, and this isn't good at all.

"Catch, stop!"

His voice is thin, rasping, lost amid the noise of the crowd now rising in alarm. A madman with an axe! Catch strides forward, blade rising and swinging with the motion of a man chopping wood but these are people and--

"Catch! Stop!"

He cries louder, a discordant croak of a voice utterly unused to such demands, but now people are shouting and screaming in shock and pain and the axe is still swinging. The crowd surges and swirls in an effort to escape that inexorable blade, those furthest away aware only that something is wrong. Panic rises in the boy's throat and with it something other, dredged up by his helplessness and despair.

Cherny takes a deep breath, lungs straining behind thin ribs, hands clenched into bony fists; almost doubling over with the effort of it, he shouts at Catch with all the strength his slight frame can muster. He means to repeat his plea for a third time, begging the madman to stop, to stop hurting people, to--

The Words ring from his throat, rolling above the crowd and shivering the cobbles underfoot like a howl of bells and thunder.