[hr][hr][center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/b4c8d8bb-ce6c-4f28-ae48-5db57c8bd072.png[/img][/center] [center][img]https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/4b/8b/f9/4b8bf9bf56e16949792ee05fe7b3e8c5.jpg[/img] [sub][color=c0c0c0]"Now the earth was corrupt in the sight of God, and the earth was filled with violence."[/color][/sub] [hr][color=c0c0c0][b]Location:[/b][/color] Almack's Assembly Rooms -> St. Etheldreda's [/center][hr][hider=St. Etheldreda's Church/Ely House][center][img]http://cdn.ltstatic.com/2009/March/NL277860_942long.jpg[/img][/center][/hider][hr][hr] With a sense of heavy duty, Mary closed the doors nearest her and moved to take on a guard position around Elizaveta. Like last time, she remembered not to act in a manner that could be construed as fear or aggression when the purifying, angelic-reaper force of the Grand Duchess manifested and went about its duties. The skill was obviously taxing, looking at Elizaveta's state after the ceremony was completed, but that would be an incredible tool to add to her repertoire of Soulless Hunting abilities. Of course, Mary was more of an Agent of the Faith; such a long onset ability would have to be attempted in a safe place and under guard. If she were to learn this ability, she would require the support of a dedicated team or like-indoctrinated organization to utilize it properly. Drawbacks aside, it would be a potent weapon in her arsenal against the Soulless. The militant Apostolic wondered what else the officiants of Rusyn Training could teach, and how it could compliment the Vatican's existing roster of skills. Following the application of the [i]Ostanavlivat'sya[/i], Mary went to work. The Grand Duchess's abilities would prevent the Soulled from corruption by the Soulless, but it did not do anything to those already claimed by the darkness. This labor was more suited to Mary's training; brutal yet necessary. Hraew and Ryne were the remaining Soulless du jour - the means of their True Death were grisly, but well known. The removal and alternate reinsertion of fangs, then the extraction and immolation of undead cerebral matter was called for, respective to the appropriate Soulless. Mary drew her short swords, items forged and blessed for the purpose of stilling those which prey upon humanity, and began her duties as a Dame of St. Sylvester. Veta had done enough for one night. It was time for Mary to get her hands a little dirtier. Following the elective autopsies, Mary began to feel the fatigue of the evening. She could only imagine how Elizaveta felt, exhausted from the rigors of the day plus delving into her more strenuous abilities, [i]twice[/i]. She held no desire within her heart to remain at Almack's for another hour, and from the looks of things, Veta could not remain awake for that long, either. When she sleepily asked Mary to join her for lunch at the Circus tomorrow, Mary nodded in agreement. Understandably, neither of them were in a frame of mind to continue a lengthy professional conversation, and the Apostolic had yet more to accomplish before the night was over. Her plans involved passing considerable aggravation along to the Bishop. The people of the Circus appeared to be gathering themselves for a hasty departure, echoing Mary's feelings on the subject. She was preparing to depart when she realized that she had actually gotten a ride in with Elizaveta. Her warhorse, Cassius, was still at St. Etheldreda's. And now that she was thinking about it, Mary still had a bag in the Imperial Carriage. Her new acquaintance and Elizaveta's protector, Vladimir, was helping her outside and into a different carriage, presumably the one that he had arrived in this evening. The tiger leapt into this carriage, and Vlad lay the semi-conscious form of the Grand Duchess in alongside. Not wishing to spend the greater part of the night walking back to her cathedral, Mary spoke up. [color=c0c0c0]"Ah, Master Alexandrov?"[/color] She thought that was his name, upon earlier introduction, though she believed that he also mentioned that his name was Bazhooli. [color=c0c0c0]"Master Alexandrov, wherever would I locate Her Grace's, ah, other carriage? I arrived at this place with her, as her entourage, and must at least collect my belongings from it."[/color] It was a shameless and transparent attempt at being demure, a thing to which she had not received much practice. The somewhat older man gave her a broad grin and put a finger to his lips, gesturing at the sleeping Veta behind the closed door of her carriage. [color=firebrick]"Da! You come, you come. I know she has rooms at E-th-el-dred-a."[/color] He had to sound the word out, but promised increased proficiency with more use. [color=firebrick]"But she is coming back to Circus for tonight. Talking vith Sem'ya early, about vhat has happened tonight. I vill talk vith Baron tonight. You? You are friend to Elizaveta in small time, I see this. Are velcome to enjoy safety and hospitality of Sem'ya tonight. Much nicer than our Nun, gorazdo priyatneye."[/color] Mary gave the eccentric man a polite smile, declining his offer. [color=c0c0c0]"Regretfully, Master Alexandrov, I cannot. I have my own people to whom I must report this evening and tomorrow, early. I ju - "[/color] She was cut off by the over-exuberance of the man. [color=firebrick]"Dostatochno! Enough, [i]Lady-Knight[/i]. I require no explanation from you, and I remain (as said earlier) faithful servant to you. Da? Da. I vill take longer road back to Circus, take back to Church. Is good?"[/color] Mary nodded her head, performing a shallow curtsy. She smiled a little, [color=c0c0c0]"Is good. Thank you, Master Alexandrov."[/color] [color=firebrick]"[i]Constantin![/i]"[/color] he bellowed, [color=firebrick]"Please take Grand Duchess back to Circus in her Tiger Carriage; I must fulfill obligation to Lady of Catholic Church. Vill catch up soon, ve have drinks. Khorosho? Okay then."[/color] [center]...[/center] Some time later, Mary found herself in front of the doors of her home in London, the Ely Palace; a place built as both a fortress and cathedral, centuries ago. The Catholic stronghold from the Middle Ages, updated as time went by for purposes of defense and comfort, it served as one of two major Papal holdings in the entirety of England. And as a fitting place for the resident Dame of the London Diocese. It included the Church of St. Etheldreda, the House of Ely, internationally known Gardens, and (oddly) a Pub located on grounds. Mary graciously thanked The Great Bazhooli for his offer, recovered her saddlebags and halberd from the carriage, and entered her home. She jogged immediately to the nearest study attached to the Church, lit several candles, and composed two letters for submission to her superiors - one for the Grand Cross of her Order, and one for the Papal Court. She did not intend for them to be delivered as one would carry a message generally, but by the Bishop. He was a retired Venator and served as her liaison with the Vatican, in no small part because of his ability to utilize the Vatican Training of [i]Pudanti[/i], or the ability to use a basin of holy water to send messages across great distances to others with like ability. Ever the seat of organization, the Church made liberal use of this piece of Training. The events of the evening most assuredly qualified as an emergency, permissible without fault at even this late hour. The flowery opening paragraph and supplications to her superiors, complete with full, elaborate titles, could be inserted by the Bishop. She was more interested with the meat of the situation. [hider=Knight Grand Cross Edwin O'Brien of the Papal Order of St. Sylvester] Knight Grand Cross Edwin O'Brien, I initiate communications with you under the shadow of extremely grave events. Soulless have openly attacked a gathering of Aristocracy this evening, at Almack's Assembly Rooms in London proper. The Walls around the city have been breached, by stealth or treachery I could not guess. I have personally witnessed Ryne, Hraew, and Cargast working together, and possibly something else with which I am not familiar. Their efforts seemed to be specifically targeted, as if a greater intelligence led them. This brings me to my other point of bad news: Arch Graveolase Buckingham has been murdered, taken by a what I believe is a Cargast. He fell directly in front of me. After his passing, the attackers withdrew. I tended to him during his last moment of life. As he slipped away, he appointed me as Interim Arch Graveolase. I swore the oath on the battleground before witnesses. Because of these things, I humbly petition you for two benefactions: For the safety of those who would seek the protection of the Church, I request that you station either Knights of standing or soldiers loyal to the Order and Papacy to man the grounds and battlements of the Ely Palace in London. Secondly, and with reluctance, I petition you to grant me the promotion of title to Dame Commander within our Order. I am the resident Venator at St. Etheldreda's, and will require the authority to initially organize these men for the defense of our people. Further, my appointment as the Interim Arch Graveolase is dependent upon my status in my respective organization. I fear someone of questionable morality may attempt to wrest control of the Graveolase for their own ends. Further, I am cultivating good friends and powerful allies in the conflict to come. I cannot express anything more until the official announcement, but rest assured we are not alone in what very well might be the coming conflict. With reverence and respect, Dame Mary Ignatia Hale [/hider] [hider=Pontificalis Aula of Pope Pius VII] His Holiness Pope Pius VII, under care of the Office of the Papal Court, I initiate communications with the Court under the shadow of extremely grave events. Soulless have openly attacked a gathering of Aristocracy this evening, at Almack's Assembly Rooms in London proper. The Walls around the city have been breached, by stealth or treachery I could not guess. I have personally witnessed Ryne, Hraew, and Cargast working together, and possibly something else with which I am not familiar. Their efforts seemed to be specifically targeted, as if a greater intelligence led them. This brings me to my other point of bad news: Arch Graveolase Buckingham has been murdered, taken by a what I believe is a Cargast. He fell directly in front of me. After his passing, the attackers withdrew. I tended to him during his last moment of life. As he slipped away, he appointed me as Interim Arch Graveolase. I swore the oath on the battleground before witnesses. As a precaution against one of more questionable morality attempting to seize control of the Graveolase for their own ends, I have petitioned the Grand Cross of my Order to appoint me as Dame Commander, hoping the elevated status will prevent such an endeavor. I do not know what help you might specifically provide in this dark hour, as I cannot recall precedent for this situation in our histories, but I humbly request whatever assistance the Holy See may find themselves fit to bestow. Further, I am cultivating good friends and powerful allies in the conflict to come. I cannot express anything more until the official announcement, but rest assured we are not alone in what very well might be the coming conflict. With reverence and respect, Sister Mary Ignatia Hale [/hider] Letters in hand, Mary tread as quietly as her level of urgency allowed back out of the Chapel proper, past the rectory, and over to the private rooms of Elijah Mansfield, Bishop of the London Diocese and Officiant of the Ely House. A Lady of Propriety would have waited until morning to add duties to such an important (if recently indifferent) man, but this was not an occasion for propriety. Nonetheless, Mary began by quietly pulling the bellcord at the main door to his private quarters. When that didn't work, she pulled it with remarkably more vigor. And when that didn't work, she began to bang on the door with fists trained to push against stone and withstand the impact of mortal combat. When a surly and half-asleep Bishop Mansfield jerked open the door with bleary irritation, the good Sister knew that her efforts were not in vain. [color=c0c0c0]"I am so incredibly sorry for disturbing you at such a late hour, Your Excellency, but this is a matter of the utmost urgency. There has been an open attack of Soulless at Almack's. Please, [i]please[/i] read these letters. They explain everything. And they must be communicated by means of [i]Pudanti[/i] immediately. Just read. I must see to my Ward and rest however I am able, Your Excellency. I fear what tomorrow may bring."[/color] Grumbling, Bishop Mansfield took the letters from Mary, scowling at her all the while. The door closed, leaving Mary in the corridor by herself in the relative dark. She sighed, waiting for a few seconds before turning and walking back toward the Rectory. About halfway there, the sound of a now [i]raptly[/i] alert Bishop bellowed a single, morbid inquiry into the night: "[b][i]He appointed you as WHAT?![/i][/b]" The barest smile crossed Sister Mary's lips as she continued back into her section of the Church. She had a child to check on an sleep to procure. Tomorrow promised to be a busy day. [hr][hr][center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/6db984d3-4c29-457c-84f7-fd720c6f3470.png[/img][/center] [center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/3068ada6-2525-4e47-b1a8-14d98dfb6177.jpg[/img][/center][hr][center][color=firebrick][b]Passive Skills:[/b][/color] [list][*] [u]Fal'shbort[/u] - You are tougher, stronger, more Russian! [*] [u]Tretiy Glaz[/u] - An ability that gives a person a sixth sense into the future. Unpredictable and random.[/list][/center][hr][hr][center][color=firebrick][b]Location:[/b][/color] Almack's Assembly Rooms [/center][hr][hr] Meanwhile, The Great Bazhooli busied himself trying to catch up to the carriage in front of him; the one carrying his Little Veta and her massive Siberian Tiger. His version of "Catching Up" mainly involved yelling at the driver in optimistic sounding Russian, a language that extremely few people in this country tended to speak. For all the public knew (most of whom were probably trying to sleep at the moment), Vladimir could have been either initiating a call to arms or giving a loud, rambling critique on the absinthe he was in the middle of vomiting upon the streets of London. Not that he was actually regurgitating strange, green, alcoholic liquid upon the ground, just that one would be hard pressed to tell the difference by merely keeping an ear out. He clutched a package to him, careful to prevent it from getting jostled too much. It was a parting gift from the young woman who he had referred to twice that evening as [color=firebrick]"scary Catholic girl"[/color]. He probably owed her another apology. Risking a peek inside, he wished to see exactly what an English-style Strawberry Rhubarb Pie looked like. From the outside it appeared rather dull, like most of the traditional food of his homeland. But the smell wafting from the package - it was inspiring. Eventually, Vladimir caught sight of Veta's carriage ahead of them in the street. They were nearing the turnoff to the Circus Grounds, or the best, most accessible land they were able to lease for the duration of the Season, just outside of London Proper. The majority of the lights were out for the evening as they were no longer selling tickets nor performing shows until the next day, but the right fires were lit out-of-doors, giving adequate illumination for horses and men alike to navigate their way into the grounds. For those who were part of the Russian Grand Circus, the lights showed them the way back to where they worked and played, practiced and laughed and lived their lives, close to one another; the Tent City. Vladimir wasted no time seeing to Veta's needs. He picked her sleeping form up and carried her to her own, quite opulent tent, one for which no expense was spared. He laid her in bed and covered her lightly, intoning a quick goodnight of, [color=firebrick]"Хорошо спать, маленький"[/color], and exited into the firelit campgrounds. As he began to cross the winding down of the Tent City, he paused only long enough to issue a quick, [color=firebrick]"Go! Go sleep now, Myshka!"[/color] at the massive, white Cat. He found himself coming upon the open flaps of a great, imposing looking tent. Probably the only one in the Circus with the audacity and/or raw nerve to approach this particular tent without order or invitation, Vladimir stepped inside and cleared his throat loudly to announce his presence, and began speaking to yet another imposing feature of the tent. [color=firebrick]"Apologies, Baron Ale... Father. Regrettable, I am avare, to visit at late hour. Much has happened vhile out for evening, important, dangerous. Ve must speak immediately."[/color] He did not leave the tent until much later. When he did, he felt lucky to have a bottle of wine and Sister Mary's amazing Strawberry Rhubarb pie.