[center][img]http://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/ccff888e-d2a3-4f6d-a340-d0c5f453075c.png[/img][h1][b][color=2956b2]March 24th, 1823[/color][/b][/h1]
[img]http://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/ccff888e-d2a3-4f6d-a340-d0c5f453075c.png[/img][h1][b][i][color=2956b2]Scotland[/color][/i][/b][/h1][hr][/center]

	[color=2956b2][b][i]Kirkpatrick House:[/i][/b][/color] It seemed that things were calm in the Kirkpatrick House currently. From Maeves room she would be able to hear a general chatting down stairs but would be unable to make out the words at this point. Apparently whatever was being said was being spoken in what Lady Kirkpatrick would have called a respectable volume, which in her mind was far different than a respectable tone. One could intone much without having to raise ones voice, the Lady of the house was a master at such things. She knew how to cut silently with that silver tongue of hers. 

	After a bit though there was a distinct knock at the door, a hard rap that occurred in succession multiple times. It stopped and then happened again before the front door was opened by the houses butler. "Father Blair, do come in, shall I take your hat?" the older man asked. The fumbling father tripped over the end of the foyer carpet but caught himself. The butler said nothing and made no acknowledgement of the misstep, simply taking the mans hat from him as it was held out and shutting the door behind him. Turning around he shouted sharply. "Father Blair to see Lady Kirkpatrick!"

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

	[color=2956b2][b][i]London:[/i][/b][/color] Things were going about as calmly as they could in the Circus and unfortunately no ones ability to see things unseen was kicking in. Sadly a trait that could be gained by any that trained just did not like being there when it could really make a difference. Right then, people were just getting nothing. Though it did seem that the firewalker had had an idea, one that Vlad had liked. It looked like the party was splitting up. 

	Split, one goes left and the other goes right, one goes up so one must go down. To the left, to the left, to the right, to the right, all your things in a box to the left, all my things in a box to the right, not my right, someones right, to my back, to my back, to my front, to my front. In my bag, in my bag, out of my bag, out of my bag. In my head, in my head, out of my head, out of my head. Ludiwgs face seemed to scrunch up hard as his hand flew over paper, putting ink to parchment as his tongue came out and pressed hard to his lips. [color=fdc68a]"To the sea, to the city."[/color] Simple words but in overly shaking hands, waving them widely were maps one a route on road to Scotland, one to the sea and that way. Route that were not on maps but the time saved was large indeed. 

	[color=2956b2][b][i]The Sea:[/i][/b][/color] The sea is holding where it has been as the monster whips around and comes back through. Scattering more debris as it does. Splintering wood and nearly ripping Colette from Fyrors grasp. They will manage to hold together but the high waves are making it more and more difficult to keep ones head above water. Things are not looking good as the beast below the waves starts to turn once again. Flashes of lightning are the only thing allowing one to see it seems to be getting ready to take another run at them. 
	
	That is until the sound of cannon fire is heard and the water breaks before the beast, sending a shock wave through the air but it drives the beast down in the waters, deeper and under them as it swims by this time. Another fire and the beast is driven deeper and deeper. Is it gone? One cannot see yet but one can see starting to break the clouds in the water - a ship, a large multisailed ship. 

	[color=2956b2][b][i]The Road North:[/i][/b][/color] What has happened to Elizaveta no one knows. She could be dead, she could be alive. It is unknown at this time. Yet it is clear they cannot follow anymore and have chosen to drive north towards where the visions in the Circus had pointed them towards. If the Grand Duchess is dead she would be glad they are pursuing Millicent, for that was why she had left the circus in the first place though one cannot be sure if that was her only reason. 

	The storm is raging on. To the west it is much more foul than it is to the east. Yet traveling north will show that it is worse than if they had turned around and headed south once again. So towards the tail of the storm, or is it the head? Who can tell. The lightning is loud as it crackles, several trees off to the north are burning from a strike from the heavens. It burns white, so white and pure. So... familiar.