[center][img]http://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/ccff888e-d2a3-4f6d-a340-d0c5f453075c.png[/img][h1][b][color=2956b2]March 22nd, 1823[/color][/b][/h1]
[img]http://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/ccff888e-d2a3-4f6d-a340-d0c5f453075c.png[/img][h1][b][i][color=2956b2]Port Annan, Scotland[/color][/i][/b][/h1][hr][/center]

	[color=2956b2][b][i]Teriny Inn:[/i][/b][/color] Calum gave a half chuckle and rubbed his face. Slowly and carefully, he finally got up off the floor and straightened himself up as best he could. How his clothing managed to stay as intact as he was... It was a mystery in and of itself on both fronts. 

	"Glad ya enjoyed it, e'er stop back by these parts do stop in and say hallow," Nigel said with a broad grin before looking over towards Calum who was dusting the dirt off his hat, nearly toppling over a candle on the bartop in the process. "Good luck lass," Nigel finally added before shaking his head and chuckling as he walked off to tend to the rest of his morning duties. 

	"Well, then shall we be off? Big day ahead of us," Calum said as he finally placed the hat back on his head and tucked his bible beneath his arm. "Do ya need any help gathering your things to load up into the carriage?" he asked, more than willing to help Maeve but chances were if he touched her luggage it might just spontaneously catch on fire or turn to dust, or go out the window three rooms down, or get caught in the rafters, or lord only knew what else. 

[center][hr][h1][b][i][color=2956b2]London, England[/color][/i][/b][/h1][hr][/center]

	[b][i][color=2956b2]The Glimmeric:[/color][/i][/b] Thomas turned and came rushing down the street, nearly skidding out on his worn soles as he rounded the corner. Righting himself he ran over to Michael and Francis. "Constable, will be a while," he said gasping for breath. "Lot of death, a dozen murders this morning down by the docks. All down there, only one left in the area, is patrolling, can't leave post," he added, his words breaking due to his running and being so winded. "Asked us to move body to physicians to get out of road."

	It was an odd request but not uncommon in the area. There had been more than one occasion when a riot had broken out in London and all the local law enforcement had to deal with such and bodies had to wait. The local physician, if one could even be called that, was one block over. A Dr. Nuetermyre. An older chap who most questioned if he had ever attended a school of medicine. If you became ill in this area you either tended to it yourself, hired another physician, or prayed. All were better options than Dr. Nuetermyre. At this point he was there for one reason and one reason alone. Bodies. Untertaking. Selling to the medical schools dearly departed with no family ties. 

	Michael nodded a bit. "Very well, go get the cart from behind the shop Thomas. I'lls wheel the Lord over to Nuetermyre's," Michael said as he started to roll his sleeves up. 

	"Well least it can't get any worse for the bloaty bloke," Thomas said before heading down the side of the Butcher shop to retrieve the cart. Glancing over at Francis Michael tried to give the woman a smile. 

	"Why don't you go ahead and go about your day. If the constable needs anything once he shows up, I can fetch you. No needs to be standings out here waitin' fer hours," he said trying to assure her that he would take care of as best he could. "Whys not stop bys the shops laters? got some fresh cuts in this morning's. Be happies to gives the girls a treat this evenin's after everythangs."

	[b][i][color=2956b2]Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent Park):[/color][/i][/b] Have you ever heard of the expression that is something can go wrong it will? That bad things come in threes? Well that is the case here. 

	1) As Constantin is rushing out on the ice to get to the whole were Elizaveta plummeted into the freezing waters below he slips. This is no ordinary slip, this slip is one that came from the depths of hell. He slipped, sprawled out, legs wrenching out in unnatural ways. Spinning like a top on his heels until the muscular tendons could take no more and snapped back sending him like an elastic band onto his back and causing his skull to bounce on the icy surface like a ping pong ball against a paddle. The momentum didn't stop, only serving to spin his body like a top along the ice until he finally came to a stop at the ices edge nearly plummeting into the waters himself. Groin - beyond strained. Head - feeling like he just got cracked with a baseball bat. Dazed and confused? To say the least.  

	2) Vlad is doing no better. As his fists pound on the ice, his blade trying to cut through it. So much worry, so much adrenaline, so much... Shit! The thick fog leaving everything wet. This makes a bad situation worse. As he drives the blade down to the ice, trying to cut and break through the surface to break free is when everything goes wrong. The blade not only does NOT get through the ice. It ricochets off of it, the handle coming free from the Great Bazhooli's grasp. It flips with all the grace of a new born calf into the air and the tip of the metal is coming right for him! There is no time to react. God if there only were. It hits him right between the eyes, but thankfully with a final flip. The hilt of the blade knocked Vlad back a good ten feet from Myska, leaving him sprawled out on the ice and his blade skidding to his left another twenty feet. His forehead now holding a stunning ~dent~ that may remain for the rest of his life. 

	3) Myska at this point is... screwed. The ice has not been chipped away enough for the tiger to break free and it is obvious that things are affecting him. Despite his heavy coat of fur, being in the ice and half submerged into icy water he is starting to get the a mild case of frost bite setting in that is likely only to get worse. He is thrashing around, his front claws trying to scratch away at the surface but he is slowing down. His strength and speed seem to be broken by a good ten percent already. How much longer can he remain in the ice before he is no longer of use to the Grand Duchess? Not long if things continue this way. 

	And what of Veta? No one knows at this point. She is far below the waters surface and what streams of bubbles were coming to the surface at a steady rate are spreading out. Each bubble that breaks the surface is smaller and there is more time between it and the next and the next. And unlike Constantin and Vlad - she does not possess Fal'shbort. She is not tougher, stronger, more Russian. She is a dainty princess for the love of god! You had better do something fast or you won't be saving this princess from any castle!  

	[b][i][color=2956b2]Westminster Hospital:[/color][/i][/b] Pulling up to the front of Westminster Hospital, the doorman rushed over to open the carriage door. Emma's hand rested lightly in his as she stepped out of the carriage and shot Gerard a look that mirrored many a look her mother had given Gerard anytime she had caught him and Millicent enjoying each others company. "Tend to the carriage, he shall return shortly," Emma told the doorman. "Come on. You are to take Millicent home and finish preparations for our departure," Emma said in an impatient voice as she gathered the length of her dress and headed up the front steps. 

	Making her way quickly through the hospitals lobby and up to the second floor she made a beeline for her mothers private room. The door was open and inside there was Mrs. Wyndham. She was sitting up, well partially. A pile of pillows were behind her back and she was belittling the so called nurse over the quality of her meal. "But Mrs. Wyndham, it is doctors orders that you remain on nothing but liquids for the time being. You must regain your strength," the nurse said in a nearly defeated voice before taking notice of the new arrivals. "Miss Jones, good morning. Are you here to sit with your mother?"

	"Yes yes. I am taking over for Millicent, where has that bluestocking run off too? Reading to the lepers I bet instead of sitting here and keeping mother company," Emma snapped as she took a seat next to the bed. This caused a silence to fall over the room as both the nurse and Mrs. Wyndham exchanged looks of confusion between the two of them. Emma rose a slightly intrigued brow. "What?"

	"Emma, Milli hasn't been here," Mrs. Wyndham stated rather quickly before shooing off the nurse. 

	"Mother, are you sure you are not just dazed from the trauma? Milli took the carriage Lord Rutherford sent me home in last night to come take over for me. I was to relieve her before lunch, so here I am. You have been alone this entire time?" Emma asked as she rested her hand on her mothers. The two started berating Millicent right then and there. Going on about how selfish she must be to not have shown up to sit with Mrs. Wyndham and how if she has run off to avoid her obligations they would never forgive her. 

	Upstairs on the third floor Dr. Graham sighed as he tossed his glasses onto the desk. "They care only for their perceived honor and when it comes to women of marriage they see them as nothing more than property as the law dictates. The loss of a wife is no more than the loss of an old stallion that has long been put out to pasture," he said before rubbing the bridge of his nose. 

	At the mention of the banns her cocked a brow. "The banns. That could work, if there are ever any posted," Dr. Graham added as he sat up and laced his fingers together. Resting his joined hands on the desk he looked towards Fyror as his lips thinned. "There were no banns posted for Lord Rutherfords last marriage. He refused to wait. The night of the engagement he rushed the poor girl off to Gretna Green to marry. There was no chance for anyone to protest the marriage or for her to cry off the engagement. By the time anyone knew she was gone... It was too late. She was already his lawfully wedded wife in the eyes of the law and god." 

	[b][i][color=2956b2]St. Etheldreda's:[/color][/i][/b] "Yes yes, this world needs me about as much as a skinned knee needs a blood letting," she said quickly as she sat down and pulled out her archives. "Nevertheless, I shall have this recorded before you leave. Return to retrieve it when you are ready, now out of my archives so that I might work in peace," she said with quill in hand. 

	Adam looked over to Mary and nodded, his arms coming from around himself to take Sister Mary's hand. His hand was warm to the touch even though he had appeared cold a moment ago. "Oh yes, some food sounds wonderful," he said as his mood seemed to switch. Walking out of the room Adam glanced around as they headed towards the kitchen. The young boy hadn't realized how hungry he was until now but it seemed that food would have to wait a bit more. Sister Alma came around the corner carrying an arm full of clothing. 

	"Sister Mary, there you are," she said surprised. It was obvious that the old nun had completely forgotten the fact that Mary had stated where she was going and when, so the fact they were crossing paths now was a complete surprise to Alma. "I was able to find a few things in the donations that were waiting to go to the local orphanage." Alma had obviously forgotten what size the boy was or that Adam even was a boy - for in all the clothing she had brought with her there were items for children as young as four years of age and dresses for girls. Thankfully though as she held out the arm load of items there was at least some slacks and a shirt that looked like they would fit Adam. Not perfectly, for there would be a little bit of available growing room, but nice enough for now. The best part was the only pair of shoes would actually fit the child until a pair could be made for him personally. 

	[b][i][color=2956b2]Crypt Manor:[/color][/i][/b] Peter looked more than relieved that Virginia did not seem to be upset over the matter at hand. His grip finally easing up a bit on the brim of his hat. If he kept wringing it the way he was it was going to wear through to nothing but frayed threads at this rate. "Yes Lady Crypt. Thank you. I will get to work on that right now," he said quickly before excusing himself and heading back out into the garden. 

	He would need to take a quick trip to the garden's shed to retrieve some containers to place samples in as well as his tools. He was not exactly sure what all she would need but he felt it was better to bring too much and far to large of samples than not enough. Some of the water from fountain, mud and brick chunk from beneath the waters surface, clippings of each dead plant and flower on the estate. It was going to take sometime. The wheelbarrow in hand with the items he collected from the shed resting in the base of it he moved as quickly as he could from one point of the gardens to the other.