S1: E6 "The Well Laid Plans"

Tick Tick Tick

Social Animals

The carriage rattled across the cobbled stones which wound around the glistening fountain, pulling to a stop before the wrought iron gates. A servant hastened down the wide steps, through the open gates and opened the door with a measured bow. Lindion emerged, adorned in the violet dress which Stacy had selected. That bit still puzzled her, the thought lingering in a stream of thoughts all connected to this day. Her taste was, however, impeccable. The sweetheart neckline, the v-cut bodice with black lace on the top and bottom, and then running around the hem of her dress. The color was perfect, fashionable and very much complementary. She would have to commend the girl on her good choice and ask Philip to discover the tardiness of Lilian's duties that morning.

Sweeping these thoughts aside, Lindion entered the vestibule of the Belabrante estate. The whole of the estate was magnificent. Trimmed hedges, flat topped trees in full bloom, a weeping willow and creeping vines which laced up in bundles on any surface which had purchase for their tiny little hands. The interior of the estate was a beautiful half-moon shape. The ceiling was domed, with a circular window at the zenith, with columns of trim running down to the base of the dome, creating a kind of frame for the paintings which had been vibrantly displayed across the surface of the plaster. Each "segment" depicted a  monstrous beast, some known to myth and lore, others very much real. Beneath these, as if forming a horizon along the base of the dome, delicate relief work trickled down into the half colonnades which flanked more statues, carvings and murals of the legacy of the Bleabrante house. Their wealth, influence and power were beyond reckoning. They were the foremost expects on man and beast. More specifically, man on beast. Griffons were their speciality. Every year they hosted safaris into distant untamed lands, trained and built their empire on the bones of the natural, and unnatural beasts. 

Lindion only had a few moments to enjoy this scene as she shrugged off her coat, hat and traveling gloves. Poised with her fan in one hand and her clutch in the other, she entered the sitting room connected right off the foyer. The large windows in the back had been set open, flooding the room with beams of pale light. The fireplace on the right was spitting happily. Leather couches encircled the hearth, upright chairs and tea tables, coupled with blue setees which matched the draperies, lined the walls. The dark wood paneling on the walls glistened as if recently polished. Lamps illuminated even the darkest of corners, driving out every shadow. Potted trees and leafy plants added a almost jungle like effect to the room. The red and gold carpet was thick and comfortable underfoot. There were doors on either side of the room, which, as Lindion soon learned, led further into the labrynth of sitting rooms, comfortable dens, parlors, a spacious dining area and several libraries. 

I'm getting ahead of myself again. Lindion hasn't been given the tour yet by the estimable host of today's social gathering. As Lindion moved politely among the guests, a casual nod, a polite word, she was soon situated in a prime position to receive other socialites. Social etiquette dictated that women not approach the men, but instead indicate with pose, position of one's fan and blush of cheeks that you were willing to engage in trivalities. The only exception was that a hostess, so as not to be rude, welcomed her guests and ensured their glasses were full and they always had someone near to converse with so as not to become bored. This form had created many opportunities for women to cleverly bend the rules and create situtations for engagement. Sometimes, quite literally.

Lindion, having the good breeding of a noblewomen and the beauty of the Eldren, never went long before someone had approached her with a greeting, a offer to fill her glass and a quick remark about the weather. Other appropriate forms of conversation were something of note in the local Times (avoiding politics and religion if appropriate), some new fashion or trend, a new discovery, a lament about some poor sod who ended up ruined or a scandalous affair (as long as it was not their relation or close friend), recent engagements or marriages, births and other such innane topics so as to avoid offence. 

This was why, when the host of the party and patron of the Belabrante family, approached Lindion and welcomed her to the party, Lindion was surprised and intrigued. Arthur Belabrante had strong resemblence of the peoples who lived down the Southern end of the Sword Coast, with dark brown hair, blue eyes and a dusky skin. He was instantly charming and affable, easy to converse with on a variety of subjects and moved with ease, both physically and socially. But this was not why Lindion was surprised. As Arthur gave her the tour o the lower parts of the house, weaving in and out of every room, he abandoned more mundane topics and ventured right into personal, almost intimate conversation with his guest. His questions were personal without venturing into a confidence. But Lindion found it hard not to want to talk more about herself, despite all her good training. 

Detaching himself after they reached the sitting room once again, Mary, the younger sister of Arthur, injected herself into Lindion's company practically dragging a younger woman behind her. The two women stood as starkly different as a hand is from a foot. Mary was the picture of gentility. She had a perfectly thin waist, bright eyes and hair that constantly bounced with every vowel that came out of her mouth. She wore a deep green floral gown, with long sleeves, and a golden collar that wrapped around her thin kneck. Gold was in fact peaking out of her hair, at her elbows, across her bodice and flashed almost as brightly as her perfect teeth. I was not the only person annoyed by her vibrant personality.

Yes. Contrast. Yuko was a northerner. Her skin was pale as ivory. Her hair was as white as the finest snow and soft like wool, tooled into a complex braid wrapped around her head so it appeared to form a kind of crown. She wore the traditional robes of her class, richly adorned with bright red flowers and beautiful hand stitched gold thread all across the silk. She was broad, average height and had beautiful golden brown eyes. She looked as timid and as uncomfortable as Mary was excited and comfortable with the world. But it was easy to see the confidence, the defiance in the face of an obstacle. There was a stregnth beneath the temporary circumstances. Mary made introductions, spoke for everyone and allowed very little to pass between them before whisking Yuko away to meet more strangers. There was a fleeting glance for mercy between her and Lindion before she was lost in the crowd. 

Lindion had barely enough time before the older woman approached her.She wore the darker shades of grey allotted to old maids or widows. She introduced herself as Eulala Roznar. The older women then asked Lindion to turn down the wardship of her granddaughter, Isabella. Lindion was well within her right to create a scene. It would have felt perfectly normal if not for her own self control. To approach her in public like this and make a request was highly improper. But Lindion gracefully explained that this was a question for Isabella's parents and it should be taken up with them. She might have said other words that were pooling at the edge of her tongue about meddling matrons but she realized instantly this was a personal issue and not one that was appropriate to discuss in such company. Fortunately Eulala did not push the issue. She displayed her dissapointment but released Lindion to enjoy her party. Lindion, taking note of this, retired to the balcony overlooking the lower districts of the city. 

As she let her mind settle on the familiar sights of the beautiful architecture of Newhaven, Yuko managed to break away from Mary and move at something of a less breakneck speed. That was when the twists of fate wove two lives together. Sir Telmadge Bertram Etherington was a socialite and held a coveted position in the highest places of honor among the Bourgeoisie. He had money, influence and made it is focus to know every person who had a story of interest. He was also a complete fop. So it was no wonder Telmage pulled Yuko into his sphere of influence. He always knew a person who possessed a story for him. She did not dissapoint. She regailed her audience with stories of her people, of the fabled Mother who went to save her child, and the story of the blue eyed Ilsa, the Voice of Order. Greatly amused, Telmage would have had her continue. But Yuko was more interested in the woman named Lindion. She was intregal to her plan, it seemed.

As Yuko looked for Lindion, someone else had found her already on the terrace. A young soldier recently returned from the North where he was stationed. Hector Clark saw Lindion leave and followed. Though bold, he thought she looked familiar. He was not particularly skilled with faces. But hers bore a resemblance to something that was on the tip of his tongue. Hector realized his impertinance as the conversation grew more awkward. Mentally kicking himself, he made small talk until he could excuse himself to refill their glasses. Perhaps he could salvage the conversation at some point. There was a lovely storm brewing outside...

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Like Lightning 

The failure of the first experiment had proven harnessing the power of electrical energy was not going to be a simple matter. Failure was no foreigner to Thomas. He knew her from a young age and had come to a tentative understanding. It also brought him closer to understanding the problem. The particular problem was that his designs failed to sustain a substancial charge. To prove the theory of electical power, the battery had to be more then a paperweight. The problem was that Thomas had theorized about how it would work, but had rarely seen it function up close. This thought possessed him so thoroughly that he endeavored to create a means that he could see this power up close and observe its terrible nature. I think, in actually, Thomas wanted to look really cool.**

Perhaps Thomas was not fully expecting Mashell to think this a rational idea. Inversely, she suggested some ideas for making it work. As the two set their minds to the task, they decided a lightning rod would be ideal for catching the energy and then directing it down into the building where they could study its effects and find a effective substance that would hold a charge. As Mashell set off to bring something she thought would help keep them safe during the experiments, Thomas started to construct his lightning rod. He then realized he was out of one of the essential componants; wire. He had used up the majority in his latest rounds of experiments and prototype designs.

As the strom brewed, Thomas elected to station his experiments on the roof of his lab and hope that he could build the rod out of spare parts. As he finished the last of this assembly, Mashell returned with a large crate. As the workers unboxed it, Thomas saw a large copper mesh cage which gleamed like bronze. Situated beneath the rod, Mashell suggested setting water to the base of the system and connect their battery and observe the reaction to the different componants.

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A Stroll in a Minefield

Across the cobbled streets and black chimneys, another storm was beginning to form as two forces began to collide. Standing behind a tree in a small part outside of Roku's flat, Ed waited patiently for his prey to emerge. His plan was simple enough; he would conceal a raccoon trap beneath some leaves and leave a pile of shiny objects which would be very hard for a sticky fingered thief to resist. Roku soon emerged, strolling casually through the park. Ed watched with a easy smile on his lips as the gang of raccoons walked directly towards it, pokes it and, after examining it, picks up the whole trap and retreats with the newfound garbage back to his rooms. Ed watched as the prey escaped. A adage about the best laid plans of Mice and Men might have been very fitting. But Ed was not one for platitudes. But this was not the first bounty who had out...raccooned him.

As the draw drew towards its peak, Ed put this aside and went off to complete his other job. For that, he needed someone with explosive talents.

As Ed left, Roku was enjoying his new found treasure. Jim, having finished his daily routine of cleaning and organizing Roku's home, inquired where he had found such items. Roku explained the situtation, and on this rare day, showed some extraordinary deductive reasoning. Grabbing up his cane, Hendrick began pulling together his masterful theory. It was logical to assume that Ed was trying to prove his case against him. It was also logical to assume he would be so rude as to assume a simple ploy like a snap-trap would ensnare the brilliant raccoon. Clearly a simpleton who fancied himself a detective. So how does the prey turn the trap onto the hunter? This was where the train of logic either derailed or found the perfect solution. Hendrick thought how brilliant it would be to trap Ed with something irresistable that could get him off the back of the raccoons once and for all. A principle distraction to brazen and bold that Ed would never guess he would be shackled for the rest of his life.

Conveying the plan to the others, they talked long into the night until they settled on a brilliant plan to draw the bounty hunter into their own clever trap.

Jim quietly polished the new found baubles and smiled with dutiful attention.

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Paper and String Don't Go Boom

To say this was Frag Bruiser's businest week would be a grave exaggeration. But if anyone was the beneficiary, his art and craft was known as rumor and appreciated for the short time it was in one piece. Today, however, he was working on a new timing mechanism/trigger which needed a more stable, less detectable energy source. He was thinking on this problem when one of his least favorite customers arrived on his doorstep. More accurately, he was not a customer at all. Ed and Frag had a...complicated relationship. Ed never could get a official bounty on Frag even though he knew he was particularly talented in his craft. Today Ed was here as a customer, a detail Frag was happy to oblidge. Supplying him with a parcel bomb; a simple pyroglycerine tube set with a simple trigger connected to the inside flap via a small wire. If you avoided the explosion, you most certainly would burn to death.

After getting the package, Ed asked his various contacts about the whereabouts of Leigh McNab, the silver fox he had met previously. His whereabouts were either hidden or nobody wanted any part of him. If Ed had been more cynical he might have known something was up. But he continued on, faithful in his duty to fulfill his contracts. Honor had a way of complicating one's life, even when doing something as sensational as dealing death to a unsuspecting victim.  The chaos was palatable. Like the Harbingers of Justice, there were also the Arbiter of Death who brought all things to a resolute end. Ed would be most useful if he continued down this path. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Ed boarded the hansom cab. His contact was an anonomous cabbie who gave Ed little bits of knowledge when he needed some tip or clue. They passed small slips of paper through the small window at the foot of the bench where the driver sat and directed his team of horses. In this instance he learned that Leigh McNab was likely at the Shifty Whale. Armed with this information and the special package, he returned to the public house. After trying to blend in, he asked the bartender where he should leave this package. He feigned ignorance and suspicion as to why the sender, Roku, had instructed him to bring it here. The bartender left and returned a few moments later with a few of McNab's boys, faces Ed recognized from his previous visit to the Shifty Whale. The two men, built like Ed and not very friendly looking escorted Ed up a flight of stairs, into a office overlooking the street below the public house. 

To Ed's eyes orc eyes the yellow light from the lamp on the desk, which strained against the shadows, seemed to him as if it were daylight. He noted the worn furnishings, perhaps the antiquated items of royalty long discarded for something more elegant and modern. The large desk took up the largest portion of the room, a high back chair almost comical by comparison. McNab was resting against it, the ornate faces of animals carved into the surface top where he rested his elbow like a menagerie of predators. It was hard not to see the fox with silver skin in a more ominous light as he grinned from the shadows. His men took up positions with their hands not far from implements of their trade in case this was some kind of charade. But McNab recognized the bounty hunter, and the Roku he mentioned. He remembered they were friends of Thomas Thompson. Ed produced the package for McNab, along with the names of his co-conspirators. Elated at someone delivering some good news, McNab paid Ed and sent him and his men out of the room. As the boys escorted Ed back to the barroom, a figure in a hooded black robe who Ed had not noticed yet, quickly ascended the stairs to the McNab's office.

Ed pushed through the drunken crowd and walked into the gaslit night. The rain had just began to fall as Ed tucked his hat down over his brow. He crossed the we cobbles and positioned him in an alley entrance across from the Shifty Whale. He waited as the ran fell and lightning flashed across the sky. 

TICK...TICK...

Ed flinched as a fireball tore through the ceiling of the public house, rattling his back teeth and causing him to squint into the enferno which now licked at the black sky. From my perch on the opposite corner, I watched him until he vanished from sight into the gloomy sheets of rain which covered him like shroud. What kind of chaos followed him, hidden in his shadow, and dogging his steps in the near future. A simple choice would unleash a torrent of consequences that could alter the Fates of many.

But for now you will have to pardon me. There is some business I must attend to. There are some people who have a unexpected date with Destiny. And I would hate to keep a lady waiting.

Speaking of ladies...

**This is a word that would be invented over a 154 years later by a musician when describing his wind instrument. I pity the lexicographer who had to enumerate all the possible folds of that word.