The Hunt is On- to Catch a Shade

Fallen London
161

Something flickers across Evensong’s face as they watch Gideon demonstrate the map. Maybe if they were less cynical it would be joy or awe. Dirae Erinyes gives Gideon a slap on the back.

&quotGood, very good! No we don’t have to worry about having our urchins skewered, our bats sniped, and our cats ruffled.&quot After giving Gideon another congratulatory slap on the back, they turn their attention to Phryne.

&quotDo you want to join the monster hunt with me? Might be a good way to get you reacquainted with London, even if we don’t have any luck in finding the Shade.&quot
edited by Shadowcthuhlu on 4/3/2017

162

Something smells fishy. Leaving the bracelets and the activated metal beads on the table, Gideon looks up at the corner of the room with consternation.

A tiny pipe up on the ceiling sprays a mist of droplets into the air. As it does, the smell becomes more noticeable – it is, of course, the silent alarm. Someone has breached the perimeter of the shed, his sanctum sanctorum.

Best not to cause any undue panic. That is why the alarm is silent, after all. Gideon produces a grubby handkerchief and mops the sweat from his brow. It does seem to be awfully hot in here all of a sudden.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. No panicking. Panicking is absolutely not the right course in this situation. He has to set an example for the others, who aren’t aware that at this very moment an intruder, no doubt a vicious killer, is coming for them…

On second thought, it might be better to close the door, just in case. No cause for alarm. Just shutting out the draught.

Gideon leans on the flimsy wooden door after shutting it, breathing heavily. He hopes nobody has noticed that something is amiss. The silent alarm has done its work admirably.

Now he just needs to bolt up the door… oh, good grief! He’s on the wrong side of the door! Are those footsteps he hears sneaking down the corridor? Has the spectre of death come for him at last?

No, no. No cause for alarm. Just slip back in and hope nobody realises. The door will hold. The sturdy, sturdy door. Everything will be just fine.

163

Two figures step out of the heavy, grey fog that surrounds the dilapidated shack. One of the figures begins to make their way towards the shack, but is stopped by the other. A finger is pointed at the debris and fungi surrounding the decaying building, and at the almost unnoticeable footprints that lead through them. The other figure nods and waits until the first has made a few steps before they follow in the others footsteps gingerly placing one foot after the other.

The figures make their way through the rot and decay without incident, and eventually reach the shack itself. The first inspects the grime and fungi covered shack, while other looks around watching for any signs of any trouble. The first examines the front of the building, but they stop for a moment. The door of the shack is just ever so slightly open. They wave the second figure over and begin opening the door. Something clicks.

A harpoon rapidly soars towards the first figure nearly impaling them as they narrowly avoid its path. The harpoon embeds itself into the ground with a squelch just a few inches from the figure.

The two figures share glances. Their is an uneasy moment of silence. The second figure steps over to the harpoon, planting their feet steadily on the firmest ground they can find among the half decayed waste and mud and yanks the harpoon out of the ground with another sickeningly wet squelch filling the air.

After waiting a moment to catch their breath the first figure again steps up to the door this time more cautiously than before and looks over the entryway more thoroughly this time for any traps before cautiously stepping into the shack. The second quietly follows the first through the door and into the shack.
edited by Lord Gazter on 4/3/2017

164

If Drake and Emma Dynamo are confused by Phryne’s behaviour, it is nothing compared to the confusion in her head. A maelstrom of voices had assaulted her from the moment she had asked her—perfectly innocent—question. And the cacophony just won’t let up.

Get it! Get the Element! Another one! Another one!

HE SUN THE SUN THE SUN THE SUN THE SUN THE SUN THE SUN THE SUN T

No No No Don’t I Can’t I Won’t Be Able To It’s Too Much

Now, let’s think this through first…

oh my god I’m Dead I’m Dead I’m Dead I’m Dead I’m Dead oh my god

HE SUN THE SUN THE SUN THE SUN THE SUN THE SUN THE SUN THE SUN T

do it do it do it let’s make the Liberation of Light hahahahaha

And why had she said &quotNot yet&quot of all things? They would expect an explanation later. She had no idea what to say. And even if, it seemed she had lost control of her tongue anyway. That load of garbled nonsense she had told Drake? Wasn’t what she had planned to say at all. In her mind, everything had made perfect sense. Am I losing my grip, finally?

Why not take it from her? I can do it! The power! I’ll be unstoppable!

HE SUN THE SUN THE SUN THE SUN THE SUN THE SUN THE SUN THE SUN T

No No No I Can’t I Won’t I Will Lose What’s Left Of Me

There’s already nothing left of me…

not true not true not true not true not true not true not true not true

HE SUN THE SUN THE SUN THE SUN THE SUN THE SUN THE SUN THE SUN T

do it do it do it fulfill your Destiny

She never even hears Dirae Erinyes’s question. Shuddering and shaking, fingers clawing at her face—she won’t be able to stand this much longer. Stumbling to her feet, half-blindly moving towards the door, shoving people out of the way, knocking over chairs. &quotExcuse me… sorry… I think it’s… claustrophobia… I… I just need… a breath of fresh air, that’s all.&quot

Very funny.

Phryne reaches the door just when Gideon comes back in, wanting to lock it. He never gets the chance: Phryne rips the door clean off its hinges, lets it fall to the ground, and disappears into the tunnels… Oops, sounds like she’s run somebody over there. Actually, it sounds like she’s just trampling over everything in her way.

Just a few minutes after two mysterious figures had entered the shed, its door is blasted open from inside, and spews out a glowing, fire-eyed madwoman looking like she’s about to explode.

The harpoon has just been dismantled, and the more intricate traps are meant to stop people from getting in, not out. However, all the usual tripwires, mines and booby-traps can be triggered from any direction.

A lot of them are triggered now.

Within seconds of charging out of the shed, Phryne is hit by arrows, spears, bullet-fire, actual fire, and shrapnel. Her left arm is pinned to her side at an awkward angle. Her right ear is ripped off by a fireball that nearly takes off her head. She almost runs into the big Zee-Mine. Cut, pierced, battered, bruised and burned, she comes to a halt near the sorrow-spider pit and, with an orgasmic shudder and a scream, releases a pulse of light from her body (which seems translucent there for a second).

The sorrow-spiders about to swarm all over her retreat back to their pit, whimpering.

Nothing else happens. She is glowing only very slightly now.

&quotBy Storm, that was just what I needed!&quot She looks around herself, then down at herself. &quotDamn—I’ve ruined another dress.&quot Her left foot is caught in a bear trap.

There is utter silence in her head.

&quotNow this is just beautiful.&quot She begins to awkwardly retrace her steps to the shed. &quotLet’s see whether I’ve killed someone. If not, maybe someone will help me get these… things off of me and out of me.&quot
edited by phryne on 4/4/2017

165

One figure is knocked aside by the inhuman madwoman barrelling her way through the hallway. The other is taken off guard, but draws and aims a pistol right as the madwoman turns the corner. Unable to take a shot, the second figure replaces the sidearm.

A hand is offered, and is accepted. The first figure rises from the floor, dusts off their coat, and readjusts their hat back to its previous position. The figures look back towards the way they came. They advance towards smashed door and its now empty doorway.
edited by Lord Gazter on 4/4/2017

166

Dirae Erinyes rushes by, ignoring everyone in their way. They are fueled by familial ties and guilt and thus the fact of mysterious intruders and threats upon their life doesn’t rank that high. They are thinking about a sibling endless screaming in the garden, and hope that Phryne is doing better.

Evensong is more prosaic, following at a much more considerate speed. They notice Gideon picking himself out of the splinters of the door he was bracing against. Aware enough to hear the shot as one of mysterious group fired at a fleeing Phryne. Drawing their own pistol, they give a hand to Gideon. &quotLooks like we have company.&quot
edited by Shadowcthuhlu on 4/4/2017

167

A bruised blind man calls out from beneath the sturdy table. “Mr Stormstrider, if you have some manner of panic room in here, may I suggest we retreat there? I believe I could use somewhere to hyperventilate for a bit.”

168

Gideon takes Evensong’s hand gratefully to extract himself from the wreckage of the door and dusts himself off. “A panic room? What cause could there be for panic? I’m not panicking. You’re panicking.”

It’s definitely not his imagination this time; there is someone – or rather, two someones – advancing down the corridor, shoes clicking on the stone floor. He peeks out and sees them approaching. At least one of them has a gun drawn.

No time for subtlety. Gideon spins a wheel on a pipe running out of the room, and the hiss of gas escaping fills the corridor outside.

He steps back into the Scheming Chamber and shouts into the corridor, “Not one step further! That corridor is now filled with natural gas, and the slightest spark will blow you sky-high, so don’t even think about firing your weapons! Go back the way you came, and perhaps I’ll let you live!”

In a low voice, he adds to the rest of the room, “Don’t tell them this, but that would blow the rest of us up too! Before you get any ideas about my rash and suicidal behaviour, keep in mind that this is in fact a cunning bluff!”
edited by JimmyTMalice on 4/4/2017

169

(Co-written with Drake Dynamo)

&quotThat will not be necessary,&quot says a voice from the hallway, presumably the owner of is one of the pair of footsteps outside. &quotI can without hesitation assure you of that. We have no malicious intentions towards any of you.”

“Do not step any further. State your business.” Emma commands.

“I assume that you all are Mr. Dynamo and his hunting party if I’m not mistaken?” the voice responds back. “Am I correct in this assumption?”

Emma hesitates briefly before responding.

“Who is inquiring?” Emma calls out.

“A friend.” the voice calls back in a surprisingly cordial manner.

“A friend wouldn’t sneak about like a thief. Your name, profession, and interest in our party. Now.” Emma demands. Lady Orosenn is at the doorway now, watching Emma intently.

“I do apologize for my rather uncouth entrance. I sought to get your attention from outside, but since I was unable to receive a response and since the door was left open, we let ourselves in. Again I do wish to apologize for this impertinent and I do imagine rather startling encounter.” the “friend” responds back. He pauses for a moment to clear his throat.

“To answer your other questions my name is Lord Barnabas Gazter and my interest in your group is to assist you and your party in the capture of this shade of yours.”

Emma tilts her head towards the room.

“I’m inclined to listen to this man, if any of you know him.” Emma states, awaiting a response.
edited by Lord Gazter on 4/5/2017

170

Gideon tilts his head as if trying to dislodge water from his ears. His hands are still shaking a little. “Hold on, hold on. The door was left open? Who the b____y hell did that?”

As nobody seems forthcoming, he continues: “While normally I’d say ‘the more the merrier’, I have to admit I’m disappointed with your manners, Lord Gazter. Did nobody tell you that it’s polite to knock before entering?” Gideon frowns in a pantomime of concern at his frightful etiquette.

“I shudder to think of the state my painstakingly placed traps are in now. Ms Phryne has doubtless done more harm with her rampaging, though – I will have to send her a bill for the damages. Did you happen to see her on your way in?”

171

&quotAgain I do apologize for my less than courteous entrance, but as I said before I did attempt to get your attention, knocking of course was also included in this process.&quot Lord Gazter answers back.

&quotAs for this Ms. Phryne, I assume she would be the one who tore through the hallway in quite a rush. I did in fact see her, but she rushed past me before I was able to speak with her.&quot
edited by Lord Gazter on 4/5/2017

172

Evensong gives Lord Gazter a contemplative look. &quotI believe my spouse might know you - from that horrible salon they are rather fond of. If you are that Lord Gazter, I know that you are a friend to devils and a terrible flirt. Neither of those would explain why you are here - unless Hell has taken an interest in the proceedings. I doubt the Shade has made a dent in the soul trade, and I’m not sure it even has a soul of interest to collectors.

&quotStill, nothing in how my spouse described them makes me think they will a threat to any of us. So, I’m inclined to listen, after we get a good look at his friend.&quot

173

In the commotion of Phryne’s exit, Timmel Orosenn had a chair knocked into her face, and now her nose is broken again. While trying to staunch the bleeding, she still watches Emma intently. She’s not quite sure this is all just a bluff, and she’s really not in the mood for charades right now. Losing patience, she draws a knife and throws it accurately into the shoulder of the person holding a gun, causing them to drop it. &quotThere,&quot she says to Emma. &quotNow you can put the lighter away and talk to them.&quot Then she returns to the Scheming Chamber, wanting Mr Hamilton to take a look at her nose. No way is she letting the creepy blind doctor/spare-time-torturer anywhere near her.
edited by phryne on 4/5/2017

174

Mr. Hamilton, who had been mostly in the corner sipping tea, is now being told that Lord Gazter, an acquaintance of Hamilton’s, has broken through the defenses of the &quotsafe&quot house, and is now asking to join this hunt. As you might imagine, this quite surprised him. However, someone’s nose needs tending to.

While Emma talks to Gazter, Mr. Hamilton gets out a bandage and places it gently on Timmel Orosenn’s nose. Then picks up the chair that was thrown at her face places it near the table, gets some tea and starts to drink while listening to the conversation.

175

When the stranger begins speaking, Edward looks rather surprised. He knows that voice from somewhere, but where? He then looks down the through doorway, and sees a familiar fedora. So Gazter’s here, he thinks. Then after Evensong speaks, he says &quotI too have met Lord Gazter at the salon, but I would like to know who your acquaintance is&quot.

(OOC: IRL, I will be very busy until Sunday. I will only be able to post in the mornings and evenings (EST))
edited by Edward Frye on 4/5/2017
edited by Edward Frye on 4/6/2017

176

Oh, glorious. Our leader changed from an incompetent fool to a suicidal one. Well, I won’t sit though this quietly and let ourselves get killed by a madwoman.

Lyndon creeps up to the Dynamo girl without her noticing; it’s relatively easy to sneak up on someone whose mind is completely focused on something else. He snatches the lighter from her hand almost at the same time as the monster-hunter throws her knife. Knowing how to perform that kind of larceny quickly ans efficiently is a precious talent for someone in his line of work, and one he has worked hard to develop.

“I’ll be holding onto this until you all cool down a bit.” he says, pocketing the lighter. He ignores the mean look the madwoman is giving him. “I’d rather not find out if your cider can fix up being burned to a crisp, if you don’t mind.”

Maybe he’s being overly cautious. Their host has mentioned a bluff, so maybe he has filled the corridor with something that isn’t likely to kill them all. It’d better be that way, or he’ll have to answer for his idiocy soon enough. However, you don’t survive playing the Game as long as he did by taking unnecessary chances.

He glances at the two figures who have just entered the room. “Don’t get any fancy ideas, you two.” he says, placing a hand on his sabre’s hilt. His eyes focus on the knife stabbed in one of their shoulders. That might have been a bit too much, but at least the monster-hunter knew how to hit the mark, unlike someone else. “As you can see, we’ve plenty of bladed weapons, and we have no qualms about using them at the drop of a hat.”

Whatever the intentions of those two are, their presence there is a bad sign. The safehouse has been compromised, and the glowing monster-woman dashing outside surely couldn’t help with that. As their host stated, she has probably triggered most of the remaining traps by now. They’ll have to find a new base soon enough – one with more reliable security measures, possibly. However, they’ll have to deal with the intruders first.

“I guess we should have someone patch up that wound. A stab to the shoulder con be nasty.” says the Sergeant pointing at the knife. He looks for the one doctor who isn’t currently blind, and finds him busy bandaging up the monster-hunter’s nose. That will have to wait, then. “But first, you must answer our questions. While some of us seem to know about at least one of you, they can’t vouch for the other. That issue must be addressed, as well as the question regarding your motives. Besides, I’d like to hear how you found out about this place and why you decided to show up just now. And try to be persuasive, since my patience is running thin.”
edited by Bertrand Lyndon on 4/5/2017

177

(Co-written with Phryne.)

Dirae Erinyes rushes through the tunnels, finally coming aboveground into the little shed where they meet Phryne who is sitting on a little stool. She is not screaming or crying, just calmly picking out shrapnel from her face. Looking up, she smiles at Dirae: “Hey, nice to see you. Do you think you can help me with this bear trap?”

Except for the smile, she doesn’t look too good—there are bullet holes all over her body (lamplight is shining through some of them); she has some pretty bad burns and a lot of things sticking out of her. The bear trap has nearly severed her left foot. For all that, she’s hardly bleeding (what little blood is oozing out of her wounds looks distinctly unhealthy and doesn’t smell very good), and doesn’t seem to be in any pain. The dress is beyond repair though.

“Sure Lass.” Dirae Erinyes’ hands pry apart the bear trap with no difficulty. “We should pick the rest of this junk out of you before going back for cider.” Dirae Erinyes remembers Phryne worries about her healing slowing down and places hope that the cider should work just fine. Starting at the back of Phryne’s head, they start plucking out shrapnel. “What happened back there?”

“Too many voices in one little head, I guess,” Phryne answers smiling. “I was… tempted. Your leader—she carries something very powerful on her person. Parts of me… wanted to take it. But mostly, I was afraid of what would happen if I did. And then I lost control… or nearly so.” She shakes her head, musing. “I guess I might try the Cider this time—but only a tiny sip, watered down. I don’t think I could make the effort to heal myself again, and still retain enough energy to face the Shade.” She shrugs and winks. “Not that it matters how I look. I won’t need this body much longer. But maybe it’d be more comfortable for the rest of you.”

Dirae Erinyes frowns. Nothing about this sounds good - too many voices in one head, not needing this body any longer… They don’t know much about the Dawn Machine. They had seen the fanaticism it imposed and that was enough for them. There was a mystery on how Emma was still sane if she’s been messing with their business… but that was not the matter at hand.
“What do you mean you won’t need that body for much longer?”

Phryne hesitates to answer this. Dirae seems to be genuinely concerned for her, which is sweet, but this limits how much she can tell them. “Well, as I already told you, it’s dead. Deader as dead. But don’t worry, I’ve got a plan. Well, maybe ‘plan’ is saying too much, it’s all a big gamble really. But I have a friend behind the mirrors, you know? I think it might work. It worked so far, so… I guess I’ll just see how it goes.” She tries an encouraging smile.

Dirae Erinye relaxes at this. This logic makes sense to them - upgrading to a better model is pretty much what their parents did, swapping souls from body to body. Nothing to do with riding to the far shore or flying away on moth wings.

“I know a thing or two about resurrections, if you want help.”

“Hm, I’ve never looked at it as ‘resurrection’ before. Interesting. And thanks for your offer, I’ll remember it.” She tosses her hair, realizing only then that most of it has been burned off. “Gah. If we really go back into London soon, I might visit a beauty parlour. No reason to look ugly at your own funeral.”

“And a new dress as well. There’s a reason that Evensong never uses the good ones for her emergency stashes. You can borrow my coat if you want - it’ll at least cover you until we get back to London.” Because apparently, that shapeless hooded thing with too many pockets is a coat. “Anyway, why are you bothering with a funeral?”

Phryne looks at Dirae’s ‘coat’. “Um, thanks, but I guess I’d just trip over my own feet wearing that thing. And the funeral remark, that was just sarcasm. Gallows humor. What do you think, should we go back inside and see how much damage I’ve caused? Also, now I remember: there were a couple of strangers in the tunnels. No idea how they got there, but I think I ran right over them.”

“Aye, we should go deal with them, or what’s left of them if they are more Shade minions. And sorry for not getting your joke - funerals… have a weird tradition in my family.”

Getting up, Phryne pats Dirae on the back. “Don’t worry. We all have our personal load to bear, and you turned out a nice enough fellow.” She is already sorry for what is going to happen, suspecting it might be tough for the big guy to accept. Well, nothing to be done about it now.
edited by Shadowcthuhlu on 4/6/2017
edited by Shadowcthuhlu on 4/6/2017

178

Since nothing seems intent on trampling him this very minute, Noah has carefully emerged from under his wooden haven. Demands in the negotiations seem to be made largely by one side, which is promising. It seems as good a time as any to give the party a reminder as to why they shouldn’t just toss the blind man in a ditch.

&quotIf the wounded person would simply step this way, please&quot he says, opening his bag. &quotI know it sounds trite, but I really can patch up a simple flesh wound with my eyes shut if need be. I’m sure the conversation will go smoother when nobody is leaking on the carpet anymore.&quot

179

Lord Gazter enters the room, rather overdressed (his appearance) for a hunt. His right hand clasping the head of a cane, but even from a cursory glance it is quite apparent that Lord Gazter is unarmed. Entering after Lord Gazter is a tomb colonist with a sabre on the left side of his belt, a pistol on the other, a harpoon in one of his hands, a knife in his shoulder, and a scowl that would make the scowl that the Bishop of Southwark would make if he encountered a spiriffer den look jolly.

&quotMy companion here is Alexander, my personal assistant,&quot Lord Gazter answers.

Alexander looks around the room before stomping over to Gideon shoving the fairly heavy harpoon into his hands and muttering something to himself. He glares at Timmel Orosenn, as he walks over to Noah. He coughs a dusty cough.

&quotJust give me needle and some thread I’ll patch the wound up myself.&quot He states in a manner that tells Noah that he does not want to be argued with.
edited by Lord Gazter on 4/11/2017

180

Noah frowns. That’s not quite what he wished for, but this doesn’t really seem like a situation for arguing about proper procedure. He takes the stitching set from his bag and hands it over to the stranger, along with a bandage roll.