A World Without End (Inactive)

Game Master pinvendor

The hulking walrus of a man nearly doubles over, but just barely managed to regain his balance. Catching his breath, the nobleman guffaws and steps after Cassie. As he approaches her he straightens his posture, trying his best to appear intimidating, as though he were a pufferfish.

"Hmph! Arrogant wrench! Do you not know who you are dealing with!? I am none other than Heimel Vaughn der Justicia! I will not be spoken to like a low-bred dog!"

The boisterous noble attempts to reach out to grab Cassie, but is rebuffed when something cracks against the back of his hand. Yowling in pain, he stumbles away from the cab, rubbing the quickly swelling sore.

Lowering his cane and frowning profusely, Vorian looks to the people that have gathered, offers a quick bow, and then wordlessly joins Cassie on the cab. "Just start driving, if you would," he says to the driver, who seems none too happy to oblige. As they move away from the bank, Justicia shouts after them incomprehensibly, his face red with rage and embarrassment.

"Hmph. Another noble with nothing of worth," Vorian says resentfully, his mood having soured, "His family's been trying to join the League for years, but they get refused every time. They have nothing of consequence to contribute. And yet he tosses his name around as though it held any importance!" With a sigh, he looks to Cassie apologetically. "I am sorry, I did not recognize him right away. I should have known that he would not be reasonable. I might have jeopardized us by trying to make a game out of things..."

"Anyway, where are we off to now?"

"Sorry." she apologises, suddenly looking much younger and closer to her actual age. Her manner slightly changes and you can see cracks where most of her outward persona is an act. "He won't be any more trouble will he? His family haven't come into money or prestige?"

"I believe we are meant to be meeting a jeweller, he is a friend of the Dames. He isn't expecting us, Lord Haigh. We can see what he knows about our friend and what's happening to his order." then she looks slyly at the Gent. "And if you want to buy me some jewellery it's appreciated." Leaning into him she kisses Vorian in the ear and whispers; "Only joking, but it keeps up the fascade."

Cassie holds the bag filled with bonds close to her body as a comfort blanket. "We can also do a bit of shopping!" she winks to the gentleman.

"Hmm, well, I think I would prefer just an Earl Grey for now, but... heavy on the cream," decides the Duchess, "Decaffeinated preferably..." She notices the man looking at her bejewelled helmet and she says, "Ah, I was at a party. Doesn't it look nice?"

Once her order is placed, she turns her attention towards Rashida and says, "I suppose I have never worried much about becoming fat. It is not really something that I worry about, as we have different standards of beauty than humans do. That being said, I worry more about being a little too thin. Which is to say, I would not mind some cake, myself."

Over the lake, the wind grows in its intensity. Blustery gusts beginning to form a choppy swell...

Rashida splits the cream cake with her companion when it arrives and nods at the waiter when they properly pour for the helmetcat. She sips her own hot, black coffee with a contented sigh.

"This helps me a great deal... do you mind if I simply call you Kittington? After all we've been through, I do think of you as a friend and somewhat more. I guess almost like family, which I don't really have so don't know if that's quite how I feel thought it seems like it should be. Anyway, it is strange being back and seeing that not much has changed, but knowing that thirty years have come and gone since last I was here. Strange to think that the people I expect to see in stores and restaurants may very well be dead now, and will almost certainly be gone, or ancient. Of course, they wouldn't know me if I stopped by. I did not expect the overwhelming loneliness. The functioning of time can be very odd, can't it, Kittington? I only hope my friends are still around, or that their successors are."

She looks out over the blue lake and shivers slightly in the freshening breeze. "I wish I had brought a jacket. Weather doesn't usually blow up this suddenly here."

"Very unlikely," Vorian says, looking over his shoulder. They were well away from the boisterous noble. "He is the kind of man that is easily distracted by trifling affairs. He'll fume about this for an hour or so before losing himself in whatever petty foolishness usually keeps him occupied." He looks back to Cassie and shrugs. "To be honest, it was the crowd I was more worried about. There's no telling who might have seen that commotion."

His mood brightens considerably as Cassie conveys her plan to him. "Oh? I suppose I could use more clothing. I did not quite fancy wearing the same outfit for three days. And if I must say so myself, Lady Massri's wardrobe is far more suitable for ladies like yourself... it took me quite some time to find this outfit," he says, lifting up a jacket flap pointedly, "We have a long road ahead of us, after all."

Leaning forward a bit, Vorian lightly tugs on the driver's jacket. "Forget going around; I'd rather we not run into that walrus again. Take us to the market, we can find the jeweler's from there." The young driver nods, veering off the turn and onto an even busier road. Vorian looks back to Cassie again and grins. "So, what kind of gemstone does the lady prefer?"

Cassie raises her eyebrows; "Well if depends upon the outfit! I do like jet and sapphires with a silver setting. It brings out my eyes, gives them a real pop." her voice purrs as she thinks about the gems. "Your cane is really snazzy, and that suit hangs just right on you. But yes, we should get some more clothes for both of you." the wicked glint in her eye shows that she is thinking something really outrageous.

Slowly and smoothly the taxi moves through the streets; weaving through the traffic. It pulls up before a small shop, which is flanked by larger boutiques and flower-shops. The main window is filled with red velvet trays, in these containers are an array of gems sparkling and glittering like dreams, the deep glazing is criss-crossed with Georgian wire and the green tint to glass shows the electrical security. Cassie gets out of the vehicle and moves to look inside the window; like a child at a candy store.

The French thief's heart pulses heavily as her eyes dilate. "So pretty...." she whispers to herself. Dragging herself away she takes Vorians' arm as he pays the boy. And she drags him inside.

Inside the building opens up, though not needing to be huge to hold these treasures. Glass cabinets and cases line the walls, glittering and sparkling as a roof-light provides yet more illumination. Behind a long glass counter is a tall man; he looks like he should be normal-sized but has been all stretched out. Not so much gaunt as just thin, but he smiles at the customers and his smile matches the warmth of the jewels; "How can I help you?"

Rashida shivers in the freshening lake breeze, huddling around her coffee cup for warmth. "I believe I'm ready to go, Duchess. Shall we visit your friends first, or stop by the University? I admit, I am a bit reluctant to see the old campus. Many of the names I knew will surely be gone by now..." She gazes rather sadly out at the lake, thoughts obviously far away.

"I am glad that my jacket never leaves me. Even in the sunbeams, it's nice to have some fur and be extra toasty," admits Kittington, a smile implied by the tone emitted from the helmet. "I suppose for me, as I am quite young yet, I don't quite relate in some ways. In others... I have memories that date back hundreds of years, and I can remember being through here, but those are just memories that are residual of the dead... They are not mine. I've never been here, even if it does look familiar, yet changed, without even having seen the state it was in before. I guess that's what it means to be a helmet cat. To always have retrospect, even if your own life isn't going to be all that long..."

"Your fur coat is eminently sensible, Duchess, but we are not so different as you may imagine in other ways. I may be younger than you, but with memories that are half a decade old and a body that is centuries. It has made me rethink time, and age, and selfhood. You and I and Mimi might be considered abominations by some, yet we are very much ourselves, no matter what our derivation. I am hard-pressed to convince myself that what the Baron is doing is evil at its base, though its use certainly seems suspicious. Why replicate us, after all?"

Rahsida's chiffon whips and snaps in the rising breeze as a sudden squall forms over the lake, clouds roiling and churning in a surprisingly small, low sphere. "What the... what is that?"

The scene ERUPTS!

Suddenly clouds appear, as if from no where. Ink-blotting themselves across the afternoon sky. Beneath their roiling, bruised colours flickers of lightning dance and shimmer. A rush of white-caps race out from the beneath the expanding murky haze.

As those around the lake-shore are tousled and buffeted by the initial wind gusts, the lightning withing the glowering clouds becomes fiercer. The shades twisting into an unearthly green.

Suddenly, surging from withing the actinides glow, comes an image from a fable. With her sails streaming, tattered by the gusting winds, a warship of old emerges scudding from out of the storm cloud's bank. Her upper masts aglow as they carry eld-ritch 'St Elmo's fire' with her.

She heals hard to port, smoke and fires streaming from her sides, turning hard even as behind her something even larger seems to be trying to emerge from the unnatural clouds and mists.

As those ashore watched transfixed a shape, a nightmare image, almost begins to tear itself free from the glowering maelstrom. A huge Galleon, an ancient 'Man-O-War' surges forth, her bows frothing with white foam as she barrels through the chop. About this ship is more than just the elements fire. A baleful, sickly eld-ritch glow suffuses her all.

The smaller Brigantine continues to swing hard, bringing her side to bear and there are multiple flashes, puffs of cotton white smoke as cannon balls streak across the distance to smash into the following behemoth's bow. Almost sooner than her last cannon fires, the brig is turning again, swinging her sharp raked prow about even as her monstrous pursuer dips and coughs bale-fires in response.

Some of the ghost-marauders shells slash home. Sleeting timber and casting wood as the balls rake the Brig's side. Of the Brig's damage upon the leviathan...only smoke and green bale fire can be made out amongst the churning smoke and frothing waves.

The Brig speeds on, clearing the maelstrom storm, though her bigger pursuer remains tight clutched by the black whirling clouds. The great Galleon lumbers into a turn, opposite to that of the nimble Brig. As the wall of gun-ports, each aglow with it's own bale-green hell fire light, draws inexorably about towards her, the smaller Brig straightens defiantly from her turn and presents her stern to the impending onslaught.

Briefly, there are flashes and puffs from the Brig's aft-works as her 'Stern chaser' cannon fire in defiance. Though the number of guns firing is small, barely half a dozen, the damage upon the mid-quarters of the great Galley bespeaks their size and savagery as gout's of flame, smoke and bale-green fire erupt under their impacts.

The Galleon's greater bulk absorbs even this punishment, there being simply too much mass for even this act to thwart her intentions. As the Brig continues to race ever closer now towards the lake shore, all-most the entire Galleon's broadside erupts in a wall of green-fire and scourge black soot-smoke.

Within seconds the stern of the Brig is blasted into slivers of wood, no larger than matchsticks. Her aft mast and sail disintegrating under the ferocious onslaught of ripping shells. From across the waters comes first the thunder-rumble of the balls travel and thence a groan of wracking timbers, though it is not from the stricken and flaming Brig. The great Galleon seems to shudder, the lowering clouds continuing to close and gather about her wretched and eerie form.

As the bale light's flickering reaches a crescendo, there comes a last wood twisted shriek from the Galleon -As if it is voicing it's hate and frustration at not being able to finish its victim- before the clouds close in and the mists reclaim it. With little more than a sigh, as if the very air is relieved at its vanishing, the unnatural storm dissipates as quickly as it had come, taking the monster ship back into what ever Stygian abyss had spawned her.

The burning Brig now continues upon her course towards the shallower water of the lakes edge, th9ough her fate seems to a race between the fires burning fiercely upon her decks and timbers or the sucking clutches of the lake's water as they swirl in through her shattered spares and timbers.

Standing proud upon her bow sprite, a figure -sable hair streaming in the fading wind- stands defiant. Watching the closing shore even as the Brig's momentum begins to fade under the sapping pull of the lake's waters.

The Captain has arrived. *Bows*

Rashida watches the struggle dumbfounded. After the strange storm disappears, she turns to her companion.

"Extraterrestrials, do you think? Is that a means of travel you are familiar with, Duchess?" she asks calmly, "I'm not certain, but it does not seem to have anything to do with Von Ryuko or his creations, not that I can tell."

She watches with interest, as does almost everyone else, as the beach-loungers scatter and are replaced with trim, disciplined gendarmes preparing to meet the ominous newcomer.

Cassie smiles to the shop-keeper exuberantly, she knew today certainly could be really special. With money in your pocket and a selection of jewels laid out before her. Then the interior is bathed in and eerie green glow. 'Has security been tripped, Vorian?!?' is her first thought as the windows slightly shake with the concussive force of cannon-fire.

Quickly moving to the window, she can just see the masts of a ship upon the lake. The dancer curses that they cannot get a better view; however that is not the purpose of this visit. She spins and looks to the shop-keeper whom now has a hoary complexion. Are...are... they coming for me?" he queries stuttering.

Vorian quickly moves to the door, pushing it open in hopes of getting a better view. What on Earth is that? he wonders precariously, self-consciously tightening his grip on his cane. Looking to the lake, he grits his teeth. That's not very far from the Ament...

Closing the door and looking to Cassie, he nods. "I don't know what that was, but we had best not take any risks - the circumstances have changed." He then looks to the shopkeeper. "We have to skip the niceties, I'm afraid. I don't know who or what that is out there, but there is something urgent we must speak to you about. We are allies of Professor Alessandra Devries. I trust that the name is familiar to you?"

Lord Haigh's eyes flick to the window and back to Vorian and Cassie. "Of course, sir. She is an excellent customer. Not prolific in her purchases, but only accepts the most exquisite pieces of the highest quality. It is a pleasure to meet her friends, Lord and Lady...?"

Vorian casts a sidelong glance at Cassie before speaking again. Was there a need for them both to compromise their identities?

"I am Vorian Faustus Ritter, Lord of the Bavarian Alps," he says with an exaggerated air of importance, as though 'ruling over' a few hundred acres of solid rock was anything impressive. There was more than one reason he was not at home very often. "And this is..." He looks to Cassie again and shrugs, almost confident that she could convince Haigh that she was the queen of France if need be.

"No, this is a rather curious thing for me as well!" says the Duchess, peering off. "I am not the one interested in transportation, however. Mittens might know more if we run into her. She has a thing with motion... I do not know what is happening. Do you... think that we are safe?"

"I think... well, it looks like what is left of an actual water-type ship, not an airship. And it looks like it is sinking. The gendarmes are already waiting for whatever that person is, so they will doubtless protect us from any lunatics. I do hope the other ship does not return. Look! Do you think it will make it to shore or sink first?" Rashida points at the rapidly subsiding craft.

An odd look flits across the Daughter of the Gods' face. "I wonder where she's from, Duchess. I am not familiar with the dress nor the ship... I wonder... Kittington, please tell me I am crazy, because I have a strange thought. If this is an alien or something else, somebody who has never been here before, then, well... er... it may be somebody we can use. Somebody completely untainted by and unknown to Von Ryuko." She presses fingertips to temples and shakes her head. "No, that's surely insane. So many assumptions... too much coffee..."

The ship continues on, her momentum still partly carried by the damaged sails gusting fitfully in as the unnatural breeze generated from the events calms. Ever closer the stern droops lower, though this slowly begins to raise the bow and the rigging there.

As the obviously doomed vessel's path draws closer to the shore, the target of the helm's-man's actions become clear. A small pier or floating jetty, possibly a place for people to alight upon scenic boat rides over the lake, extends out into the slightly deeper waters and it is towards this that the ship's direction takes it, though now more drifting than sailing.

With but a seeming small amount of yards to go the ships momentum becomes more that of vertical than horizontal. Her forward momentum a mere trickle compared to the rushing surge of waters in though her settling stern. Hisses, fizzes and pops resound as air is blasted out through hatches, gun-ports and other openings. A distant rumbling and creaking begins to be heard as her internal stores and cargo is shoved around and begins to settle due to the ships ever increasing, skyward pointing angle.

The figure upon the bowsprit seems to shrug then, after but a moment to gather themselves, runs nimble and cat like along the rising beam. The great coat gusting and flapping as long legs with powerful strides propel the figure along the full, twenty foot pole before it leaps far off into space, using their own momentum to propel them out, over the water and towards the pier to which the doomed ship shall now never reach.

As the crowd and gendarmes watch, some catching their breath at the figures leap born of acrobatic prowess and desperation, they follow its graceful arc to where -with a resoundingly solid thump- it comes to a three point landing of boots and a stabilizing hand. The great coat swirls as behind it the ship settles and submerges, a list beginning to develop as the ship disappears beneath the now placid waters of the lake, quickly the closed water's surface only being marred now only by the ripples of a light breeze and the last escaping flotsam from the wreck enveloped below.

The figure stands from the crouch in which it landed. Their outstretched arm bringing the large, ornate brass staff they are holding first across their body and then -with a flourish- upright so as to rest casually but firmly by their side. The other hand balls to a fist and is cocked upon the opposite hip as the woman, for that is what her gender certainly is at this close range as her leather bodice and silk shirt visible under her open great coat, -And seeming with in easy reach of the hilt of some great pistol holstered there- stands and surveys all before her.

Her sable tresses cascade as a fall of liquid night down her back. Though the pair of great horns which curl from her brows -each studded with innumerable small plates and other trinkets- give pause to how much of Humanity, if any, might be present in the proud figure. As her head turns to shift her gaze across the small knot of gendarmes collected and arrayed before her she looks neither worried, nor concerned. Only haughty and aloof.

So...who shall be bringing themselves before The Captain first, hey?

One of the gendarmes separates from the huddle and moves towards the newcomer, standing at casual attention before her. "Passe, bitte," he says quietly but authoritatively, then repeats it. "Passeport, s'il vous plaît. Passport, please." He holds out a white-gloved hand expectantly.

Ysillith looks down upon the fellow,

"Sorry luv...must 'ave left in me other coat..." She points a free finger over her shoulder where the last of her worldly possessions settle to the lake-bed. Her hand returns, to settle a tad closer to the pistol hilt.

Cassie grabs his hand shaking it effusely; before clutching it to her heart. "I am Cassie, it's a pleasure to meet you!" her voice bubbles over.

"We think you are in danger." she looks at the man with wide sad eyes. "You compatriots are falling, assassinated!!!" she lets his hand go and he retrieves it from her. His face is bright red; "Oh really!"

"Have you heard the name Von Ryuko." Cassie softly spits out the name.

Haigh replies, his brow creasing. "I did hear his name bandied around down at the club; by that executive from Van der Graaf's. He was talking to that Hartley fellow about new engines for their boats. Tragic what happened to him."

"What happened? To whom?" Cassie asks, trying to reassure the stoic shop-keeper.

Haigh shrugs "Boating accident never found the body. The executive of course."

"Eeep" the French-woman squeaks - eyes going misty, her countenance pale.

"Understandable in the circumstances, but most irregular," he says in accented English now that Ysillith has spoken, "We can escort you to your embassy for a replacement. Also, you were under attack when you arrived and your ship was destroyed. Do you wish to apply for asylum or to press charges against the aggressors?"

His eyes flick to her hand and the hilt of her pistol. "Do not be foolish, madam. I can see you were under assault, but this is a civilized and peaceable land and we intend to keep it that way."

Ysillith tilts her head...a soft chiming coming from the small tasettes of jewelry worked into her hair,

"Peacable...ye say?" She looks the gendarme 'Captain' up and down, taking note of the finer (And sharper) points of his dress sense.

"And...who might be the King of yon province, say?" She indicates behind the man with a tilt of her head, creating more rustling tinkles. She relaxes her stance, one hip flexing forwards as she adjusts her weight. One long, pale leg being shown off where it plunges from beneath her short leather skirt into the thigh-high, black leather boots as her great coat sweeps back slightly.

So...what have our defenders of the peace been kitted out with? Nice gloves and firmly spoken words? (^_~)

The gendarme glances at the water and back to Ysillith, nodding. "Your pardon, madam. You are standing in the city of Friedrichshafen, in the Kingdom of Baden-Württemberg, in the Empire of Germany. Your ship is at the bottom of the Bodensee, also called Lake Constance. This is the continent of Europe on the planet Earth. We are currently ruled by King Frederick II of Baden-Württemberg, though other jurisdictions also border this lake."

He flicks a nonexistent speck of dust from the sleeve of his impeccable navy blue uniform, keeping his hands away from the odd pistol slung on the belt at his right side, the left having a dark wood baton suspended in a sort of sling. He clicks the heels of his shining black boots and gives Ysillith a quick salute.

"We are the largest airport in the world and as such, have an embassy to deal with unexpected visitors from other worlds. If you would accompany me, my lady, we can get you properly processed and you will most likely be free to do what you wish here on Earth." He fixes his eyes on hers, trying not to look at the long leg peeking from her garments nor at the bejeweled horns sprouting from her head.

Now that the interdimensional squall has passed, the lake has returned to its normal balmy blue condition, fresh breezes painting ripples on the surface. The pier ends on a boardwalk over a shining beach, where crowds of chidren are darting into the waves, pointing at the area where the Bonnie went down while their parents call anxiously from higher up on the sand. Beyond the boardwalk is a neat and clean city of obvious wealth with a huge white hotel sprawled along the road opposite the lake, palm trees on its grounds swaying in the breeze. People wear all manner of dress and jewelry, obviously comfortable with displaying their wealth.

Ysillith smiles, perfect lips parting ever so slightly to show a hint of pearl white teeth.

"I'll ask ye t'slow down there. I be nothin' but a humble...Ship's Captain and there be a lot of large words ye bandied about." She shifts slightly again and a fraction more leg slips down from beneath her skirt as she waves her free hand to indicate the view behind the fellows.

"So, this be 'Fredrickshaven'? And your selves then...?" Her voice trails off as she waves now towards the gentlemen in their fine and pristine coats, her free hand sweeping back to seemingly bring her coat in order, even as the motion frees both the entire left hand side of her body.

Possibly inadvertently showing off her short cut silk shirt under the exclusively made leather corset (Itself a fine piece of craftsmanship, with fabric knot work woven intricately through its side stays) The whole thing being quite up to the task of holding firm the woman's maturely developed assets. Through an amazing work of the haberdasher's craft, the corset is completely open across the woman's midriff, revealing taut and supple muscles at play across her porcelain white skin.

She takes a step forwards -the long, high heeled boots which she wears clicking lightly upon the planking, and gestures a little with the ornate brass staff in her right hand, The bulb on its top end dipping slightly.

"Should we not be doing the polite thing and be going by way of introduction, then?" Her voice lowers just a tad, developing a rich and husky purr.

So did Von Ryuko kill him or just spirit him away? Vorian ponders, deeply troubled by the news. The Duke had received transactions from both Von Ryuko and the Van der Graff Corporation; the connection was already there. It would make sense, especially if he wanted to keep their relationship covert... He had learned from Whitey that the Baron was not above kidnapping persons of interest and bending them to his will. Could that be the case here?

"Who is this 'Hartley' you speak of?" Vorian asks, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"You've no cause to complain of discourtesy, Madam Captain, having been offered information, aid, asylum, and help in bringing those who harmed you to justice. I am Lieutenant Kurtz in service to His Majesty and the people of this country to keep the peace, but a humble civil servant and of no real importance. If you'll come with me, we can get you everything you need." The lientenant's face is impassive and his voice crisp.

Ysillith tilts her head slowly to the other side,

"What I be seein' here is a failure to communicate..." She purrs.

"I asked ye to not be using words of a nature that I be finding your meaning hard to get a grips of. Not that I find your manner displeasing." Her eyes obviously travel the length and breadth of Master Kurtz's uniform and a smile brightens her features considerably as she takes another step closer towards the fine Lieutenant.

"Kurtz , is it?" She asks stepping herself smartly forwards with a light clunk of staff upon wood, even as her left hand comes out from behind her back and slides forwards with it held open and held in such a way as to be shaken.

"What say we make formal introductions and thence yer-self and these other fine gentlemen can be escorting my self to where ever t'is ye think I should be going?" Ysillith stands jauntily before Lieutenant Kurtz, grinning pleasantly.

"Do we have an accord?"

Though...from some where near by...a faint humming sound can now be discerned...

"Ja. Lieutenant Kurtz, at your service, Madam Captain." He salutes, snapping his heels together, then extends his left hand to grasp Ysillith's. "And you are...?"

Ysillith's smile is full, alluring and pleasant.

"Captain Ysillith Mearlleux." She replies, giving the Lieutenant's hand a firm grip and certain bounce. She then steps to his side and offers him her arm to take. The brass staff held now at a jaunty angle. As the Lieutenant takes her arm and begins to walk her along the wharf (The rest of the gendarmes falling into orderly formation to follow) Ysillith now casts her gaze over the town, buildings and people arrayed before her.

"So...lake you did say? Long way from any ocean then, are we?" She asks quietly, her husky voice a mellow purr in Lieutenant Kurtz's ear.

The faint humming continues and Kurtz, being so close, can discern that something under Madame Ysillith's coat, where any proper lady's fashion might wear a 'bustle' is the proximity of its emission. He also notes the subtle play of the woman's exotic perfumery, an interestingly subtle scent.

The figure stood calmly on the side of the street with a map clearly within his hands doing one of the things that men normally are not known to do. Read a map. He takes his time then he lets out a breath of air while folding the map neatly and walking around the block and down the street until he gets to a jewelers.

He opens the door then closes it and smiles at the two people who are there, "I am sorry, Uncle but these directions you gave me are incorrect. There is no Meredith Avenue to go to for that ... ah," He looks to Cassie and Vorian Ritter, his dark chocolate eyes giving away his surprise, "Please forgive my rudeness but I did not realize that my uncle had guests of import. Shall I leave or do you need help?"

Unlike his uncle this man is not especially tall but is much more muscled. He is handsome enough with dark chocolate eyes and a brush of stubble upon his face making him look especially rugged. With strong features and the look of one who could take care of himself, he is also splendidly dressed in a medium brown toned tuxedo that fits him very well. He looks much more distinguished than his uncle and as if he had more money.

Cassie blinks the foundling tears from her eyes and takes his hand shaking it softly. "Monsieur Haigh's nephew? I am pleased to meet you I am Lady Cassie." she flicks her hair from her face.

"No, actually, that is not a strange thought," says Kittington, intrigued by Rashida's line of thought. "Someone from the outside would be something of a rogue element, unaccounted for. Impossible to plan for. To gain that kind of an ally would be invaluable, if a little unpredictable for ourselves as well. There are many ways that our shared enemy could predict my actions or yours, or manipulate the actions of us all." The feline leans in, and then seems to be using some short distance form of telepathy, as her mouth stops moving, and the helmet stops creating proper sound, but words would still be making their way into Rashida's consciousness, and those words would still be associated with the Duchess von Meowselsworth. "Consider that von Ryuko could mae us some robot clones. You and I and Cassie and Taraz and... anyone, really, any one as real as Mimi DuSollier. Predictive of our actions, while also being under his control. To set up simulations, especially if he still has access to the software... it is like a Helmetcat ghost. The ghost does not require a body in order to have pure thought, and so the program, the 'soul' of the creature... he might still be able to look at that, and with them controllable by him, they become a perfect predictive device. He might be able to simulate all of our interactions up until present stage, and then anticipate them. And so, we add in elements of randomness, or at least randomness from an outside perspective, even if they might be deterministic. But ah, I should not lose track, my mind is alight!"

The feline's helmet whirrs and clicks, the small bulbs on it flickering on and off as she offloads some of her own calculations to the device in order to clear her own thoughts. "With the elements of randomness, as soon as they are introduced, our actions begin to diverge from the predictive patterns that he may be able to sift through, and if he has secretly installed some of his mechanical clones into key places, with a random element we may be able to unravel these kinds of connections without his being a step ahead. This levels the playing field, the game becomes fair, but even a fair game can be broken. It is time for us to be brilliant!"

Rashida nods as she watches as the tall woman on the pier takes the gendarme captain's arm and they begin to stroll towards land, pondering the feline words in her brain, and thinking back at her, in case that worked.

She taps a gold-nailed finger against her lips, thinking as she watches the couple stroll inland. "She is not under arrest, but her papers have not been accepted - she is apparently not free to go yet. There is a place here where folk like that 'Wowbagger' being go when they arrive, to be registered and processed." Her eyes dart around the town's landscape as she thinks furiously. "I do not know the process. I wonder if she will need a sponsor, or... perhaps I could persuade the Captain there that she is one of the Massri crew. No, too risky if she does not play along. I could, however, offer her a job, claiming we need a watership sailor or captain." She looks at the whirring, clicking, blinking helmetcat. "What do you think? The worst she can do is refuse. But if she needs a job to be allowed to stay, she will have one."

A small technical matter. How many gendarmes are there in the group, would one say?

As many as you want, Sunset. But I'll leave it up to you and Treppa to sort the specifics.

In the Jewellers

The jeweller Haigh, strokes his chin with a slow rasp. "Well, Hartley is a clever gentleman. You'll find him at the club or the boat-house." he shakes his head softly; "You know where that is at least Drake! Don't you?"

"Of all the times for him to be visiting me....I always knew my sister was a bit simple." he mutters to himself.

Drake smiles lightly as Cassie shakes his hand then brings her hand up to his face and kisses her fingers demurely. His eyes light upon her tender skin then gaze from below dark lashes to see her face, "I am honoured to meet you, Madmoiselle. If there is anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable, please feel free to ask."

He allows her hand to slowly be withdrawn from his grasp then looks towards his uncle in confusion. His head turns to look at Cassie and Vorian once more then back to his uncle, "Hartley? I know where both the club and boat house are, of course."

The man sounds contrite as if he believes his uncle thinks he is of an incapable mind but he also sounds concerned. What would these people want with Hartley? It was a strange request at a time when his uncle was acting most strange.

"Maybe you should take that vacation you have been looking to, uncle." He says out of the blue, "I will escort this lovely lady and gentleman to Hartley and complete the business you require done." He gives his uncle a concerned look.

"Might just do that, lad. Might just do..." Lord Haigh replies.

Cassie composes herself as the rugged man takes her hand in greeting. Slowly calming, the upsetting news she heard in the bank Cassie files away and closes her eyes. The stubble brushing across the back of her hand brings her back into the present.

"Such a smooth tongue, I bet you have all the ladies eating out of your hand!" her tone warm and light. "Why Sir Drake how bold, although sometimes that is appreciated. Tell me do you like to dance?" Cassie flirts; having once more put on her vivacious attitude.

She looks to Vorian wondering if he has any more ideas or questions for the mason.

As the group of gendarmes (The Lieutenant upon her arm, two escorting behind and one fellow trotting along ahead) escort Ysillith onto the main lake-front thoroughfare and across the sweeping boulevard into the town proper the tallish woman, who is obviously not disconcerted about how much of her athletic figure the cut and styling of her dress is revealing compared to the other well dressed ladies who are passing her by. In fact Ysillith seems to be eying them and their clothing fashions as much as she is casting a roving eye over all the men and how thy fill out their tailored suits.

"Madame Ysillith...might I inquire...Are your styles of fashion...indicative of your realm..?" Lieutenant Kurtz tries to politely formulate and deliver his question as possible. Ysillith gives a throaty chuckle in reply, twisting her grip about his hand and arm such that the young officer settles closer to her side.

Where, some how, her great coat has managed to slip behind and away hence allowing a fair amount of bare leg to rub against the lieutenants trouser-ed limb as the pair stride along.

"That's Captain Ysillith and aye, where I hale from wearin' such things as to show yer station an' how much 'Flash' ye have available be the norm." She arches an eyebrow at the lieutenant. "Ye might say one 'Dresses to ostentatiously impress' as much as anything else one dresses for at-all." And she winks, laughing at some joke in her turn of phrase.

"Here now? Whut be it ye call that piece of odd mechanika?" She asks, pointing out, with a tinkling inclination of her horned brow, some of this places fancier mechanical devises which might be on show.

Captain Ysillith be on the prrrowl.....Grrrrr.....(^_~)

Lt. Kurtz glances warily at the tall woman's impressive rack (the horns, of course) and answers a bit uneasily.

"That? That's one of the Massri airships, I'm not sure which one, because they're all gilded like that. Biggest show of wealth on this planet, and nothing but trouble for those of us who are charged with protecting the peace. Of course, gold may not be precious wherever it is that you come from, Madam Captain Ysillith. It just arrived this morning looking rather tattered. I assume... yes, there it goes. I'm certain it will be docked at one of the yards for repairs. It's not often you see a Massri ship damaged like that -- cannon fire from the looks of it." He grimaces slightly at the last. "Sorry, Madam Captain, I don't mean to bring up bad memories. Who was it that was attacking you? And what happened to your crew?"

"Vorian Ritter, at your service," Vorian says, sizing up the newcomer. The noble's tone sounds friendly enough, but he eyes Drake with a suspicious gaze, his thoughts racing. Can we trust him? he thinks, as he reaches out to shake the man's hand, He's apparently Lord Haigh's nephew, but still... "That is very generous of you, but are you certain you want to get involved? Misfortune has its ways of finding us, I'm afraid."

Ysillith's eyes continue to track the floating cloud of seeming outrageous wealth...even as the lieutenant gives a partial explanation as to its background.

"Hmmm....?" She initially replies, mind seeming on some other matter.

"Oh...m'crew? Them's what were favored by fate made a good departure. I like t'think I do right by what is mine." And the strange emphasis she places upon her words seems to hint at some aspect of the way the captain sees the world.

"Now...as fer th' Black Ship what sought t'do me an' mine harm?" Her full gaze sweeps down and focuses intently upon the fine lieutenant "Well....best t'say that some one as..." And again her large, dark exotic eyes seem to take in the 'size' of the fellow, "Noble as yerself should not be seeking even th' rumors of such a beast." And her manner indicates that for now that line of inquiry is closed.

Ysillith's path, her size and strength meaning that the lieutenant realizes that it is she who is more physicality in control of their path for a moment, changes course to follow the disappearing cloud of ostentatious which has suddenly caught the captain's eye.

The lieutenant has a tiger by the tale. Will he hold on and possibly enjoy the ride which might be to come...? (^_~)

"Captain Ysillith Mearlleux, we must bear more to the right to get you properly registered, after which you will have the run of the city, to explore as you like. Of course, since you arrived alone, I would be pleased to show you around and take you to dinner tonight, to help you become acquainted with the city and its customs," Lieutenant Kurtz says smoothly, as he gently tries to correct their course.

"Smooth tongue? That is just proper etiquette is it not? And such a proper woman deserves to be treated with gentility and respect." Drake says seemingly believing it. The way he keeps his head down a slight bit looking up at Cassie shows he does in fact know his manners.

Once Cassie takes her hand away and his uncle mentions he may go on a trip he nods, "Yes, Uncle. You do look like you need it and I am sure your employees can care for the shop properly while you are away. They have before.

A smirk comes across his face about dancing, "Well, you shall just have to wait and see if I can do so as we shall not have the chance tonight. Or will we?" He teases with a bawdy wink.

Drake turns to Vorian and puts out his hand, shaking the other man's with a strong grip. He notices the noble's scrutinizing gaze of suspicion but only gives a friendly smile in return, "Vorian ... Ritter? I have heard this name before. Ah. Misfortune you say? Then you have the right man to be with you as I am a physician and can come in handy in those respects."

Brass staff still tapping along to her strides Ysillith nods absently at the lieutenant's words, her eyes not leaving the trail/direction of the sinking air-ship,

"Aye,...processed..." She mumbles the words even as she continues unerringly on her now seeming set course.

After awhile of whirring and clicking, Kittington inclines her head slightly, "Yes, I think it would be a good idea to offer her a job. Someone like that, at this point, we will want to keep her close. I think that will be the most important thing..."

You are of course correct. If he has so much time to plan, he can keep us reeling back. But we have thwarted his mad plans once, and so I think it shall be again. He might not expect us to be as resourceful as we can be. I think I am still expecting another unpredictable element to arrive, yet, but I only hope that it will work in our favour... At least an alien would be more, well, clear in terms of intentions, and therefore easier to work with.

*Laughs manically* Oooooh...they don't know her vewy well, do they? >:)

The lieutenant signals his men with his free hand and comes to a halt. "Madam Captain, you are going the wrong direction. If you refuse to come with us, we will have to insist upon it. We prefer to be courteous to guests, but if they resist, well, they leave us no choice."

There are tiny *snap*s from behind as the holster covers are loosened.