Too Little, Too Late? (Chyril 24rd, late MT)

[Morg]

(OOC: Continued from here. Posting with lupine permission.)

The Red Banner had been one of the more prominent brothels in the Inner City, a place as infamous for its underworld connections as it was for the whores that inhabited it. The tall and narrow building lay at the edge between the Inner City and the Harbor, just outside the walls. In a way, the building was still what Morgan expected to see as he made his way down there from the Burpin Dragon, despite the fact that he knew it had burned down. Buildings didn't just disappear overnight. It wasn't part of Morgan's world view.

The young mage's deepset brown eyes surveyed the scene of devastation, on both the physical and Aetherial levels, scrutinising the rescue and clearance efforts and looking for someone who seemed to be in charge. He wasn't about to rush in, even now, instead glancing around for an opportunity to pitch in or offer up his help. He was also on the lookout for any signs of magickal activity in the area.

Whatever he could offer would likely be too little, too late, but he would offer it all the same.

[Grey Wolf]

OOC: Pardon the delay, but internets was out.

The streets of Citadel were never that well protected as they were on the morning Morgan chose to visit the burned down brothel, a pair of guards patrolling every little street or alley in the Inner Ring. As he came closer to the site where Banner was just a few tides before the presence of the guards grew, and soon there was no way for him to make a step without seeing at least one of the Blues, though mostly they huddled in small groups, glancing this way and that.

It was easy for Morgan to find the banner or at least the pile of rubble that had once been the infamous brothel, a column of smoke rising into the morning sky, nearly blotting out the sun once he got close. What he found there was a pile of rubble, blackened beams sticking out of it, a small section of wall near the back the only upright segment of the entire brothel. A dozen or so men were busy clearing out the rubble a pair of thugs standing nearby overlooking the work, but not moving closer to help. The streets around the burnt down building were grey, the ashes upon the ground still wet from the last night's efforts to extinguish the flames. The ashes had mixed with dirt and water to create a sticky, paste-like mud that clung to one's boots and clothes and dried out quickly once it stuck to the clothes, leaving the workers covered in grey blotches all over their bodies.

[Becca Acerbi]

Becca dodged around the guards, resisting the urge to just wrap herself in illusions and run; neither option looked like a good idea considering how edgy the guards were likely to be. Especially the part where she was practically screaming "Mage looking kinda suspicious over here!"

When she caught up with Morgan, Becca looped her arm through his and kept close to him. There was something - something that didn't make sense to her, and it wasn't until she saw the knot of guards that she put her finger on it.

"There's so many of the blues out today," the illusionist murmured, keeping her voice low. "And Bill says that he told them where the guy that burnt down the Banner was. Why aren't they... Why aren't they doing anything?"

When they reached the Banner - what was left of it, anyway - Becca sucked in a sharp breath, staring at the sky where a building should've been. That patch of sky bothered her more than she'd thought it would, and her hand slid down Morgan's arm to clutch his hand, the other rubbing at her medallion through her shirt. "I hope they do hurry up and arrest him," Becca whispered. "Because if he does this to the Dragon..." The Dragon had been burnt down before of course, but - well, she hadn't known that there was someone who could do that last time. She did this time, and that made all the difference.

Becca took a deep breath and focused on the Aether. If there was anyone left alive under that rubble, they'd see it on the Aether, she knew that from - from the last time they were playing at city heroes.

'Please Gods let them have found them all...'

[Morg]

The sight of the seemingly inactive City Guard worried Morgan too, although he never normally thought about such things. But he severely doubted anyone would be foolhardy enough to burn down the Dragon. The prospect of incurring Bill's wrath would likely dissuade even a master of the magical arts such as Professor Motricé from doing anything so rash. Although... the confrontation might not be entirely one-sided.

Elvin vs Bill. Finely-honed mental control vs bestial rage. Magical power vs beard power. Elf vs Dwarf. Place your bets, ladies and gentlemen.

These somewhat inane thoughts were mainly a way for Morgan's mind to distract itself from the horrific sight of the wreckage of the Banner, and he was soon brought back down to earth, giving Becca's hand an unconscious squeeze before releasing it and approaching one of the thugs who seemed to be overseeing things. "Excuse me, I'm Morgan Scrylock, of the University of Magick," he announced in what he hoped was an assured, authoritative voice. "We're here to help with the clearance. Is there anything we should know before we dig in?"

[Grey Wolf]

It was the shorter of the pair that stepped forward to meet Morgan, his companion taking up position behind the speaker, looming over his shoulder, scowling at the young mage. Long, pale red scar, starting under his right ear and curling along his jaw line, ending at the chin turned deep crimson red within flickers. "Dunno. Master Crane did not say anything 'bout no University of Magic. But, I s'pose you could help if you wanted. There's to be a cellar near the back of the building.. Try to get passage clear with your fancy spells. It's taking too bloody long for us to clear it like this." His voice was somewhat higher pitched, and the man had a habit of twitching his lips to the side in between sentences, his nose wrinkling each time he did so. "Paul. Come 'ere'." A short, grey haired man, covered in ashes and soot scuttled over, his shoulders hunched as if in fear. "Take the mages to where the cellar entrance is supposed to be. They is gonna help us clear the way to it."

The man nodded quickly and without waiting moved towards the pile of rubble, moving down a passage cleared by the workers, leading towards the back of the building. Banner did not collapse in on itself, but rather toppled over, and to the back, making the back side look like a pile of rubble that grow lower towards the front. They stopped about two thirds into the pile of rubble and Paul pointed towards the wall of refuse the workers were busy clearing. "Thataway. "bout five or six more paces that way, there should be stairway. We needs to clear it so we can get Master Crane's stuff from the cellar out."

[Morg]

As a former farmboy, Morgan was used to having to perform menial tasks without any great gratitude being offered him, but even so the man's brusqueness jarred with him. Besides, I'm here to help save lives, not to act as a removal service for this Master Crane's stash. Still, this supposed collapsed staircase was as good a place to start as any other. He was already thinking about which energies to employ by the time he delivered his response, an absent-minded "I'll get to it" accompanied by a nod of the head.

Two elements at once would be used for this one. The majority of his Aetheric potential he used to move the rubble itself, tapping into the earth energies present in what remained and gently rolling it to the side in a gradual process so as not to cause his excavations to collapse in on themselves. A small quantity of air energy was diverted to form a thin ward-blanket just above ground level, the intent being to stop the dust from rising up and choking him or getting in his eyes. He'd likely be moving more, and faster, than the average shoveller, so he felt that the countermeasure was justified.

Manipulating two energies at once was something that Morgan wouldn't even have dreamt of at the time that he'd faced the ants in the Temple of Pan. However, with half a yahren's training under his belt he felt confident enough in doing it. In addition, although he didn't bother to shield himself, he continued to scan the area for Aetheric abnormalities, anything that might indicate that magic was involved in the place's burning down. Once he'd got into a routine, he kept steadily at it, glancing through his excavations frequently to see if he could find what looked like the opening into the staircase.

[Grey Wolf]

It was indeed with greater ease than half a year ago that Aetheric energy surged into Morgan's body, his flesh acting as conduit for the twin energies of earth and air, the fabric of reality bending to his will as sorcery began influencing the Tether. For several long flickers nothing happened, and then the twin mounds of rubble around him let out a sound akin to a human sigh, a few small chunks of stone rolling away from the top and to the other side.

There came a soft Thunk as a piece of mortar was dislodged from under a slab of stone, bouncing into the air, before the spell caught it and tossed it away. Larger and larger pieces begin peeling away some jumping into the air to be launched by the earth energy, the others sliding along the surface of bigger pieces that still lay immobile. The young man's robes fluttered around his ankles, the air energies he wielded keeping the dust at bay, though it rose high into the air at the side, clouding the sky.

The workers stopped working and pulled back to watch the spectacle, sighing as more and more of the rubble was tossed away, a path forming before Morgan, though he still failed to move the largest pieces. For that to happen he would need some assistance, be it magickal or pure muscle from the workers, though he made remarkable progress with the smaller pieces.

Unshielded as he was, the young mage had time to observe the ruin about him, detecting very little magic on the surface, a section of the rubble glowing faintly with residual energy. It was under his feet that he detected the strongest emanation, some ten or fifteen paces away and about fifteen or so feet down. It was unclear what it was that was hidden beneath the ground, but something was definitely there.

[Aerin Penna Seleratus]

OOC: Continued from here: http://www.tazlure.nl/board/viewtopic.php?p=202493#202493

Aerin had been only marginally interested by the manual labor, but as Morgan and Becca entered the scene and began casting spells, Aerin’s curiosity piqued. She carefully skirted the perimeter to get closer to Morgan, trying her best not to startle the man. Her attention was not so much on the pair as it was upon the mystical actions surrounding them. Her attentive eyes narrowed upon the rocks as they moved, trying to focus upon the Aether and see the magic at work, in her own way of course. Aerin was unsure if she would see anything at all, but she tried, her eyes squinting harder and harder as she silently willed herself to see the same images that she had seen through the professor’s lens, her feet acting of their own accord as she tiptoed closer and closer to the magic, unaware that she was even moving at all – totally entranced by Morgan’s display of power…and her curiosity about it.[/url]

[Morg]

Even if Aerin hadn't been trying not to startle Morgan, it was unlikely that the young mage would have noticed her, and she was able to approach undetected at least by him. When working magic, Morgan had a tendency to be single-minded and single-sighted to the point of tunnel vision. He didn't even notice the attention he was drawing from the other workers. If he had, he probably would have reflected on the fact that, by distracting them from their own work, he was probably detracting from the overall 'rescue operation' as much as he was adding to it.

The Aetheric emanations from beneath did grab his attention, however, and he couldn't avoid linking them with what the thuggish man had said about the items in Master Crane's cellar. Whatever it was the boss kept down there, he mused, it was something more than just skimpy undergarments and fetish gear. The student mage shifted his course to aim for the point on the ground directly above the energies, although he kept his Tether eye out for the entrance to the staircase.

He also changed his sorcerous tactics, too. Although he couldn't move the largest chunks of fallen Banner alone, he was a little too proud to call on any help - even from Becca, who was right there. So instead, whenever he encountered a piece too large to shift, he stopped his weaving and tried a different tack, attempting to use thick strands of Earth energies this time from within. The aim was to disharmonise the structure of the solid mass of rubble such that it would break apart into smaller chunks. Whatever the result of this attempt, he would then begin anew in clearing the ground ahead of him.

[Grey Wolf]

It was a wearying process, especially given the fact that Morgan switched his efforts ever half a burn or so, and soon the young mage began to feel the effects of his sorcery. No rock was perfect and it took but a few short flickers before first cracks would appear upon the rocky surface, spreading across the larger chunks of rock in a wave like manner. No matter how large the piece, Aetheric strands reached into it, worming into the miniature cracks in its crystalline structure and broke it into smaller, more manageable fragments. It was a good fifteen paces from the spot where the magic emanated from that he came upon an opening, a blocked stairway leading down into the ground. It lead down to the left, and a bit forward, nowhere near the spot he wanted to reach.

Aerin found herself all but blocked away from Morgan, a burly man moving into the rubble and roughly making teh men return to work. A poke here, light smack upside down the head there, a not-so-subtle shove when needed and soon the magus was left alone, the workers returning to clearing the rest of the rubble. It was behind the girl that the voice came, a shorter thug standing rigth behind her. "Hey there, luv. Lookin' for somethin'? Per'aps I can be of assistance."

[Morg]

It wasn't pointing in the direction he wanted, but then again he'd hardly been expecting the stairs to lead straight to Master Crane's "stuff". Regardless, it was likely the opening he needed. In Morgan's experience, very few buildings had two completely unconnected cellars, so the stairs would probably lead to the source of the magic eventually, although perhaps by a roundabout route.

Pausing in his efforts and wiping a bead of sweat from his brow, Morgan noticed the men being sent back to work and loudly addressed no one in particular. "I'm going to excavate the stairway. Could someone keep the ground clear behind me?"

Going underground might be dangerous if the ceiling had collapsed at any point. Further cave-ins weren't completely out of the question. That, and the fact that he would have to clear the rubble upwards as well as backwards, necessitated a slower approach than he'd so far been using. Not to mention the fatigue he was rapidly beginning to feel from his Aetheric exertions.

Taking a deep breath, Morgan drew upon the Aether once again and sent thick cords of Earth down to haul dead matter out of the stairway, lifting it up and past him and brushing it away with his booted heels where necessary. He proceeded cautiously, halting each time the blockage began to slip or slide. It had been a while since the collapse, so if there were to be any cave-ins they would probably be caused by Morgan dislodging the rubble rather than occurring spontaneously.

[Aerin Penna Seleratus]

Carnation-pink lower lip trapped within a cage of ivory, Aerin jutted her jaw forward, the movement straining the tender flesh almost as much as the act of trying to see the Aether at work within Morgan's hands was doing to her mind. When the men moved around her, she autonomously moved at the beckon, her eyes never straying from even the slightest glimpse of the mage. It was only when the short guard's voice rang out to her that Aerin forced herself to blink and turn toward her addresser.

"Hey there, luv. Lookin' for somethin'? Per'aps I can be of assistance."

Her first instinct was to simply say 'no' and to walk away, but her curiosity about magick and the sound of the still-shifting rubble behind her made the precocious redhead change her mind and mull over different tacks to take. She could tell the man that she was a mage in training, sent to help with the...whatever it was they were doing.

'Yeah...by who?'

No… that wouldn’t work. Perhaps a bribe from Claire out of Aerin’s own pocket would--- Aerin paused mid-thought, memories of the look of worry on Claire’s face during their all too brief gravetide meeting filled the redhead’s mind. Claire had been both distracted by and then strangely made missing by concern about the unexplained absence of---

“Keros…” Aerin spat out suddenly, recalling the name. She shrugged inwardly, remembering her silent offer to Claire to gather information for her on top of her normal barmaid duties – this was merely the fist opportunity to do so, even if the request was unsolicited and/or being used as an excuse to linger around the fresh ruin of the Red Banner. “I am looking for a man named Keros. Claire at Simple Pleasures is concerned that he has not shown yet, and I do not know if he was here when this happened.” Aerin tried her best to turn on some charm without seeming slutty, taking advantage of the man’s shorter stature to bring forth both of her best…pieces of collateral…to the bargaining table as she shifted her tunic slightly downward in the front as if adjusting it to where it was supposed to be, exposing a tad bit more cleavage and bared curves than before in the process.

“Have they found survivors, or have you heard anything of his whereabouts?” she asked softly. “I merely wish to help if there was the chance that he is trapped here. My magic is weak, but I am very good with my hands…” At that moment, Morgan’s voice rang out.

"I'm going to excavate the stairway. Could someone keep the ground clear behind me?"

Not only was she growing genuinely concerned about Keros’ well-being and Claire’s happiness (or sadness) based on that well-being, but Aerin’s view of Morgan’s spellwork was moving out of view and below ground and she felt the leash of curiosity tugging her insistently to follow.

“…very…very good with my hands. Please let me help…” she continued, giving the thug a final dash of innuendo as she rubbed her belly and sides in both worry and in what she hoped was an appealing manner, attempting to draw furthur attention to her body in order to milk a 'yes' from his lips. “I am sure that you will be very satisfied when I am through…I will be very gentle and I promise not to break anything or rub anyone the wrong way… Please?”

With that final plea, the young alchemist in training took in a quiet breath, bit her lower lip innocently, and looked back and forth between Morgan and the thug, awaiting an answer.

[Becca Acerbi]

Becca hadn't even realised Morgan was tiring until he spoke. She'd been - distracted, which was no excuse at all, so she threw herself into her task with a little more - aggression that was probably needed. The illusionist worked as fast as she could manage, and in much the same way as she did with her illusions, weaving a fine mesh of energy - earth instead air, but the principle was the same - to keep the rubble Morgan had already cleared from falling back. When Morgan started to drag rubble up, Becca used the earth energy in it to start shoving it to the other side, or to one side of her - she did her best to do it as patiently as Morgan had, but she couldn't swear that she wouldn't start ripping the pages of energy apart out from sheer frustration if it didn't work.

What attention Becca could spare was fixed on Morgan - partly because she was worried about how tired he looked (Why hadn't she helped him sooner?), and partly because she had the horrible idea that he was planning to go down there once it was clear. It was insane - Morgan was, taste in women aside, pretty sensible. He wouldn't go down there, even if he wanted to find out what the glow of energy was.

... If she kept repeating that thought enough, it might even come true.

[Grey Wolf]

As he burrowed closer to the entrance, Morgan's searched unearthed more than just rocks, mortar and wooden beams. The young mage may have missed it, but Becca, coming just behind him certainly did not. A human foot, peeked from under the pile of rubble, somewhat misshapen by the weight of the rocks that had rested upon it since the fire. The rest of the body was hidden by tons of rock upon the side of the path, whomever the foot belonged to being either of a short stature or possessed of an unusually small pair of feet. If indeed he or she had both feet, since the other leg was nowhere to be seen. Greyish dirt smudged the skin, the collapsed ceiling saving the victim from being burned to a crisp in the fire, though killing him or her equally efficiently.

"Keros? Hmmm, name sounds familiar." he shrugged at the mention of survivors and glanced down the street leading towards the Inner Circle. Those that we find we send to the Mother's Temple. Though we did not find a live one under the rubble yet. Kinda hard to survive tons of rock pressing down upon you." He did not seem about to let her come closer to Morgan but then the mage announced he was going down and absently the thug waved for Aerin to do whatever she bloody wanted, her approach revealing to her pretty much the same sight Becca saw. A foot, probably belonging to a woman or an adhiel was peeking from under the rubble.

Morgan felt the tension in his lower back, his body weary from the exertion of spell casting, muscles cramping painfully as he started to reveal a somewhat crumbled staircase leading down bellow. Oblivious to the foot behind him, he continued moving rubble out of the way, the rocks that kept the staircase closed smaller than the ones above, easily moved by his spellcraft alone. It was as he took first step down that he felt the new influx of energy into him, tendrils of pale red energy coming from bellow the ground to curl about his feet and feel him with power, helping his excavate the rock much faster.

[Aerin Penna Seleratus]

"Keros? Hmmm, name sounds familiar. Those that we find we send to the Mother's Temple. Though we did not find a live one under the rubble yet. Kinda hard to survive tons of rock pressing down upon you."

Mother’s Temple… I can relate – I would have to be dead and beyond caring to be dragged into a temple ever again – unless money was involved, of course… she thought wryly, thinking both of her father’s Oneist devotion and her upcoming visit to the temple to beg for scholarship. Her eyes flittered toward Becca’s form as the female mage seemed to follow in Morgan’s footsteps both in footstep and action. So much magick going on and she was missing it all… Her eyes returned once more to the thug who appeared to be shooing her off into Becca and Morgan’s direction after all.

“Oh thank you…” she quickly gasped, turning toward the rubble. “Remind me sometime to treat you to a cup of coffee, sir… Simple Pleasures – just ask for Aerin…” she called out, not watching if he was making note of the place, offer, or even name as she moved closer to the dig site.

“Burning branches!”, she hissed as she quickly took in the opening and – most importantly – the foot. “I wonder how many died here…” Oblivious to the magic that Becca was doing for the moment, Aerin stepped closer to the foot and reached out to touch it, as if entranced.

’So fragile flesh and bone when interred ‘neath earth and stone…’ she recalled a bard saying once and it certainly rang true. If Becca spotted the foot and moved to assist Aerin in uncovering the rest of the body, Aerin would gladly allow the other woman room. If not, then Aerin would continue to dig on her own. This was the first actual corpse that Aerin had ever come across and the darker side of her wanted badly to reveal the full image and savor the morbid moment before delivering what remained of the poor soul to the other workers.

[Morg]

One of the reasons Morgan had made the trip to the University of Magick was that he wasn't much of a fan of physical exertion. Unfortunately, he'd soon found out that although wielding the Aether was nothing like running a marathon the end results were often similar. At one point he paused, standing up to his full height and taking a deep breath in an attempt to relieve the cramps that were setting in - without much success. Exhaustion was exhaustion.

Which was why he was so surprised when the new energy began to fill him. It wasn't anything he recognised - and not obviously malevolent - but even so he shouldn't have touched it with a twenty-foot Aetheric bargepole. Nevertheless, and perhaps because of his frustration at his own tiredness, he did exactly that, tentatively welcoming the energies into his hands as he continued to channel the rubble out of the staircase. The best way to test a new sword was by sticking it into someone, and so, Morgan reckoned, the best way to determine the nature of a new energy was to apply it to the situation before him. Although he could be a woolly idealist, Morgan's farming days had left him with a certain practical streak, and he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He did, however, divert some of his strength into forming a shield, tightly interlaced cords of energy around his robed form. Foreign energies could mean foreign spellcasters or even concealed ward-traps.

Needless to say, everything going on in the background was filtered out. Morgan remained ignorant of the corpse as well as of the efforts of Becca and Aerin behind him.

[Grey Wolf]

Becca seemed to busy assisting Morgan, leaving Aerin to tend to the dead person alone, though less than half a burn later she was joined by an elderly worker, the man rolling the rocks away. The rubble slowly revealed a calf, then a knee, bent at an impossible angle, the joint clearly broken and twisted violently. The flesh was disfigured by the weight that had been pressing upon it, but it was easy to see that the dead person was a woman, her thigh not as lithe as her lower leg, marking her as a non-adhiel. She appeared naked below the waist, and once they reached that high, it became apparent that she was not to be freed too easily, a single, unbroken block of stone covering her upper body, weighing easily at least four hundred pounds if not more. "We need help here. Get pry bars." As the man turned and shouted, moving his body to the side, a ray of sunlight flashed against the woman's wrist, gold of her bracelet shiny even under a patina of dust.

Perhaps Morgan's decision to form a shield around his body had been wise, or perhaps he should have dived into the new energy source without a worry in the world. Whichever it was, the new layer of protection around his physical form, caused the power coursing through him to lessen in intensity a little bit, though he still felt rejuvenated by it to a certain degree, though not as much as he was when the shield was not in place. The red tendrils curled about his skin, invisible to the untrained eye, almost caressing him, though there was nothing physical about their touch. As his own body send tendrils of energy to push the rubble aside, the crimson red streaks intertwined with his own and rocks rolled out of the way with greater ease then before. As a burn passed, the sweat upon his skin began to cool, his muscles no longer aching as much as they had. A few more flickers later and a door reduced to splinters became visible, the heavy wood of the frame cracked under the weight of all the rocks that had rested upon it. The wood was easy to remove, the red tendrils almost competing with Morgan's own energy, reaching ahead and pulling the debris away.

It was then that the smell hit him, heavy and nauseating, thick with rot and warm. It was as if something had died down there, or perhaps the cellar had been filled with refuse and excrement, the whole mess down there rotting and piling under the feet of Banner guests. Stairs led down, a passage turning to the right at their bottom, darkness pierced only by the sunlight, whatever illumination had been present in the cellar extinguished completely.

[Morg]

The new energy flowing into Morgan felt good. He remained suspicious of it, partly because it seemed to clash with shielding and partly because it didn't seem fully under his control, but at the end of the day the red energies brought him additional strength and he wasn't going to turn that down. Still, he maintained the shield. Even when he smelled it.

Morgan cursed and retched, almost losing his footing as he tried hard to keep up his concentration on the weave. "Cover your nose!" he called up to Becca and Aerin, all the while grappling for a handkerchief, which when found he held tightly across his mouth and nose with his left hand. Mother always said that brothels were cesspits of filth. I thought it was only a metaphor. He felt sick to his stomach.

If the smell was capable of escaping, though, Morgan reasoned, the passageway must have been nearly clear. With this in mind, he ceased his weavings and began to scrabble manually at the remaining rubble with his right hand. Practising Sorcery with only one hand free was a challenge for someone as used to magickal rote as Morgan, but once he could see a clear space ahead of him he tried to create a ball of light in the palm of his hand. Although Morgan had less experience with ephemeral energies than with elemental ones, creating a simple light was a beginners' exercise for mages, and hopefully only a little illumination would be necessary in the confined space below what used to be the Red Banner.

Once he could see where he was going, he peered through the ruined doorway, trying to get his bearings without being overwhelmed by the stench.

[Aerin Penna Seleratus]

While Aerin certainly did not mind the help uncovering more of the body, a small part of her had become rather territorial since lifting the first bits of stone, even moreso when their combined efforts began filling in the grisly puzzle which was the woman's crushed form. Peice by piece, she appeared, her partial nudity both baffling and semi-humorous to the precocious redhead who had always heard the phrase 'Don't get caught with yer pants down.', but had yet to see such a foolish notion in action.

And then they hit the biggest puzzle piece thusfar - the large stone - and Aerin's expression turned sour as the man called for help, imaginings of being shoved to the side while others got to finish the task invading her vision of the true scene in front of her. Aerin's territorial side let out a silent growl that Bunny would have probably been proud of and her eyes moved to quickly take in as much as they could before her mini-prophesy of being cast aside could come to pass.

Which is when she spotted the bracelet.

During her prior interlude with Hadvin and Giorgio, the old man had warned her that the monkey was attracted to shiny things which, she surmised, would often lend itself to bouts of seemingly innocent kleptomania. It was in this moment and manner in which the little monkey and his new mistress shared a common trait.

If he notices and asks, I am removing it for identification... came the 'calm' part of her thoughts. If he neither notices nor asks....MINE! screeched her inner monkey. Either way, Aerin reached for the bracelet and tried to remove it both quickly and quietly, her nose too preoccupied with the stench of the woman's remains to note any fresh smells coming from below, if the wind had indeed lifted them that far already.

[Becca Acerbi]

'Nothing to be done,' Becca told herself. She had to - she had to get back to work, not stare at a mangled foot. 'They're dead, so there's...' Becca swallowed hard and turned her eyes away. 'There's nothing to be done, so. So. Just leave it and come back to it later.'

Her focus went instead to Morgan - and to the red energy gathering around him. It didn't seem to be bothering him any, and it didn't seem to be doing any harm, but - but it worried her. Especially the fact that it seemed to be coming from underneath the rubble. 'Please Gods let there not be someone trapped under there. I'd almost rather have that damn book down here, just... Don't let there be someone down there.'

The smell did nothing to change her prayer, except maybe to make her certain that it would have killed anyone who'd been stuck with it for more than a few minutes. Becca choked and spluttered, covering her mouth and nose with her sleeve. Her stomach rolled as she went down the stairs to catch up with Morgan, but she tried to ignore it. It was a little harder when she took her arm away and started dragging the rubble away with both hands; all she could do was try to breath through her mouth and hurry. If it got too bad, then she could always step back upstairs where the air was clearer. In a flicker. Or the next flicker. One more.

Becca stepped back while Morgan created his light, covering her nose again. If his light wasn't bright enough, then she could always make one and send into the room, but right at that moment, she wasn't in the mood to bruise his pride after everything he'd done. Instead, she tugged at the air energy, trying to get the air moving to either carry the smell away or bring some clear air down so they could breathe. Most of her attention was on the doorway though, and what might be beyond it. "Please gods don't let there be anyone in there."

[Grey Wolf]

There was an almost irresistible urge in Morgan to wrinkle his nose in cute disgust at the smell, but the notion passed soon, laving him free to weave his spells and finish the task he had promised to do. There was surprisingly little rubble left, the air from bellow becoming less hot as the stench grew nearly unbearable and then started to lose its intensity, giving the impression like they were standing directly over a privy. The light took shape quickly enough, its brightness leaving something to be desired for, but still quite effective, the passage a bit distorted, but large enough for him to slip into the basement. As time he became accustomed to the stench, the red tendrils seemingly helping, weaving through the air before him elegantly. Like, you know, pushing the stench away so as not to make his hair curl from it. Cause that would be totally bad.

After the initial barrage of stench, Becca found the smell no less unpleasant, but quite bearable. Morgan's light revealed little more than sunlight did, the passage turning right a few paces after the stairs ended, the floor flooded with some unknown, dark liquid about ankle deep. He weaving did not do much good in clearing the air, the source of the stench supplying them with new sensations no matter how strongly her gust of wind tried to clear the air. Perhaps another approach would work better, but the current course of action did little more than spread the stench around for others to enjoy as well.

The bracelet came off easily enough, though it came with a little bit extra, as Aerin discovered that while the girl looked intact she had been cooked by the fire, the skin on the back of her hand peeling off, sticking to her fingertips as she clutched the little gold trinket in her hand. She had perhaps a flicker or two more before workers arrived, noticing that the thugs were approaching slowly, craning their necks towards where Morgan and Becca stood, the male mage hidden by the rubble as he sought to get a better look of the passage bellow.

[Morg]

"Eew," Morgan opined as he spotted the layer of treacly liquid on the floor of the basement and put two and two together. The rising intonation with which he spoke surprised him a little. Must be the fumes getting to my head.

With some regret at the loss of a serviceable pair of shoes, Morgan slipped through the gap and began to step carefully through the gloop. Although he wanted to get onto dry land as soon as possible, he was still cautious of the possibility of collapse, and it wasn't the first time he'd trudged through sewage. The light in his hand was held out in front of him, palm upwards, as he rounded the corner to the right. He focused now on gradually increasing the light's brightness, as far as he was able, gently encouraging the red energies to participate as well.

As he walked he wondered again what this Master Crane might be keeping in his cellar, and why it would be of a magickal nature. Because what would a brothel owner have to do with magic? And where do these red tendrils fit into all this?

He sighed through the handkerchief still covering his mouth. Maybe it's one of those "magickal devices of great destructive potential" we hear so much about. That would be just my luck.

[Aerin Penna Seleratus]

Aerin almost giggled when her prize came free, something nagging at the back of her mind as she swiftly squirreled it away, pretending to brush muck off of her left hand onto her skirt, her gesture conveniently taking place at the lip of her pocket.

One other item on the subject of lips, however, came a small shock to the budding alchemist…

Amid thoughts about the bracelet, the woman, and the advancing thugs, Aerin had slipped into an old habit that she had thought to have broken, the fingertips of her right hand barely penetrating her lips as she lightly bit onto a fingernail – a disgusting habit to begin with made more so by her forgetfulness about where her hands had just been.

Gold… she thought, pondering some of the text that she had been reading in off moments from the book that Professor Pralix had given her. When many laymen heard the term ‘alchemy’, more often than not the old adage of turning lead into gold arose and – barely a step above layman herself, self-study aside – Aerin had read up on the valuable metal first, skipping some of the more ‘boring’ material for the moment. Gold is not used to make weapons or tools for use because, while beautiful, it cannot hold its own against fire or force…

Even her young mind could tell, from the rubble around her, that fire and force had lain waste to the Red Banner. Why and how had this dainty bracelet survived both when its wearer had succumbed to them?

The force of a strange taste blazing across her tongue stopped her mentations for a moment. It was salty, but not altogether unpleasant. It tasted almost like---

Eyes widened in emergent realization as Aerin pulled her finger from her lips, her index finger free of debris now, but the others still adorned with fragments of flesh from the girl’s body. Her first impulse was to heave out the intruding flavor, along with her last meal, but as she reflexively brushed her tongue across the roof of her mouth to try to loosen any bits which had found their way in, she felt herself taking slower and longer strokes, her body gradually and actually savoring the taste. A lone eyebrow rose high as she stooped to inspect the girl, poking and prodding at various locations in order to confirm her suspicions.

Indeed, while it looked like the girl had simply been crushed, she appeared to be as well-done as any of the hogs that Aerin’s father had roasted in a pit designed much like the rubble that had caused this poor woman’s death. Stones heated around her, with others serving as a lid of sorts to trap the heat in, seemed to have cooked the woman fairly effectively. Indeed, Aerin was once again lost in thought as she raised her fingers once more to her lips only, this time, the act was intentional.

Over again the exotic essence came, stronger this time as a delicate pink tongue quickly cleared the fingertip most loaded with sticky flesh, her teeth busied at appearing as if to gnawing another nail to the quick.

It was, to her, sensational. A rush of both physical taste and social taboo combined with an almost erotic aftertaste. She had ‘tasted’ human flesh before – sucking the blood from an accidental slice with a knife in order to staunch the bleeding… passionate kisses where tongues roamed where they wished… other varied oral indulgences during love play… - but, aside from the blood, she had never actually chewed on and swallowed any of the body parts that she had tasted before.

Until now… she thought with a smile as she swallowed the tiny chunks without gagging or any last minute change of mind.

As she had done with the bracelet, Aerin again busied herself with the seeming ‘work’ of freeing the body, her fingers curling tighter than normal against the cooked tissue in the hopes of being able to – ‘by accident’ – dislodge just a few more small samples in the process of discovering the identity of the dead woman, the mere thought of how socially wrong what she had just done as well as what her Dominicus-worshipping father would say about the act keeping a smile on her face despite the hard work.

As she dug around at both soft flesh and smaller debris, Aerin began to wonder what was keeping the old man and his pry bar. She gave a cursory glance around for him as she paused for another moment of rest and thought. The woman’s choice of time and place to die aside, between the bracelet and oddly succulent after-sensation in Aerin’s mouth, Aerin had to admit that the woman – both before and after death - had good taste.

OOC: It’s creepy when she writes herself like this – she’s a recurring character in horror stories I write and just couldn’t resist the setup that GW gave her here. Please PM me if any of you have problems with this and I will keep it a ‘private’ desire. If not, don’t worry – she’s not going to go shopping for fava beans and a nice Chianti or anything drastic like that.

[Grey Wolf]

It was the most unladylike position Morgan found himself in, and he had to suppress the urge to gaga as he descended the stairs, as gracefully as possible under the circumstances. Truly, he was lucky he did not wear an Audrey creation or otherwise it would have been ruined. Quite thoughtful of him to don a simple mages robe as he had on now, instead of something light, fashionable and feminine. As he crept forward, the young mage found that the stench was something he could get used to, though the filthy water under his feet was quite clogged with bits and pieces of refuse. He rounded the corner and found himself in a corridor, trio of doors on his right, the last one open or missing. At the end passage turned left, whatever lay around the corner unknown. The air was stall and heavy and quite hot, but Becca's cantrip was serving its purpose, a light breeze making the cellar more and more comfortable.

Aerin found that while the woman might have been well cooked and had a tender flesh, lacked the richness of taste that came from spices and herbs that were often used to cook a meal, though the ashes covering her skin gave it all a slightly salty palate. She found that without help of a bracelets sharp edges, she had to dig her fingernails into the dead girl's skin in order to break it, only then able to free a few more morsels of flesh from her body, soon a strangely pleasant scent of a well cooked meat reaching Aerin's nostrils, a trickle of dark brown liquid flowing down the girls skin, much like the juice would trickle from a well done steak after it was cut. The man with the pry bar was not hard to notice, several workers engaged in a rather heated argument with the pair of thugs she had first approached, both parties waving hands and speaking in raised voices, arguing over priorities they faced. Excavating bodies or keeping guards while Master Crane's possessions were taken to safety.

[Morg]

Morgan's instinctive reaction was to check the third door, the one that was open. To this end he moved down the corridor, stepping daintily and tentatively to avoid both excessive splashing and collapse. Now that he was on the level of the cellars, he extended his perceptions into the Aether around him, to see if he could locate the source of energy he'd spotted earlier. Quite possibly that underground energy had been the crimson tendrils that had greeted him on his way down, but if not he didn't want to be surprised by it in the near future.

In the meantime he took a deep breath and took the handkerchief away from his mouth and nose. The smell seemed something he could get accustomed to, although he'd never have chosen to do so. Glancing through the open doorway, he attempted to illuminate it with the mage light he held onto in his right hand. Morgan saw the Aether as a tangle of knotted ropes and cords, and the light, to him, was a bright ball of white twine, which he was constantly attempting to wrap more string around.

Unusually, Morgan realised, he was more or less ignoring Becca's presence. I'm a man on a mission, I suppose, he thought guiltily. He therefore turned and delivered a totally unwarranted "It'll be all right" smile before returning to his scrutiny of the room.