Fitzroy stooped over Madame Horos, checking for a pulse. Suddenly his head swivelled towards the exit, then turned to the lady Stonecraft "Pardon me. Do you have combustibles? Oil perhaps? Alcohol? Whatever assails our protectors requires burning. Obviously we'll also need to organise a bucket chain."
A great many things are combustible! Sadly a gaslit house has done away with many of them - but on the other hand smoking is still a thing (matches), gunpowder can burn if not contained, and Lady Stonecraft may have the knowledge to identify herbal things she has that are flammable.
Stone gives a surprised glance at Brother Thomas after the man's mighty swing. If only shepherds carried axes!
The servants rush from the cellar with some dusty canisters of lamp oil and a surgical bottle of spirits to give to George.
Edgar's big fists strike out at the bark-skinned and somewhat agile beast. His cross misses, but his hook lands solidly as he wishes that he had an ax in his hands at the moment.
The seminarian wacks a patch of bark off of the creature as it recoils slightly in pain, when it is struck by the thick staff.
Lucretia has finally reloaded her shotgun.
Emboldened by the support of Brother Thomas, Stone plants his feet and continues hammering away at the monstrous vegetation with his fists.
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Brother Thomas grins wildly as his staff connects solidly. With a gleam in his eyes, he spits out an imprecatory prayer at the creature before him. "Now is the end come upon thee, and I will send mine anger upon thee, and will judge thee according to thy ways, and will recompense upon thee all thine abominations!"
With a twirl of his staff, he steps in and swings again.
The flailing limbs are able to parry the blows dealt by Edgar, but Brother Thomas has a bit more luck, landing a solid blow on the screeching tree as he knocks off some of the barkskin.
Lucretia remembers to load both barrels of the gun this time, but only opting to fire on at a time until she gets used to its recoil.
She pulls the trigger back and aims the sawed-off at the woody beast.
In nervous haste, the shot blasts a glass panel out of the greenhouse.
Reagan pulls something from her satchel and launches it toward the tree-creature. The bomb misses but explodes behind it charring some of the vines that have encase the room. A blizzard can be heard raging behind them.
After Reagan's attack, Altair, weak from being slammed, sneaks to the side of the creature, sweating bullets and strikes hard at the creature with his proven kukri landing a significant blow as a chunk of wood is hewn from its torso.
Like a water carrier from the great battles of the Raj, Fitzroy grabbed two canisters of oil, and ran.
"Stay hale!" he shouted in order to Lord Walker, as his feet sped upon the hardwood floors, and slipped upon the plush rug.
Coming upon his fellows, engaged in a furious melee with giant tree, he forced himself not to stop and gape.
"I've something here that burns!" he called "What is your plan? Take these and I'll get more!"
Stone glances back at the canisters George has left them. We start splashing oil around, Fitzy, we're like t' burn this whole place t' the ground. His eyes return to the matter at hand just in time duck under a swinging bough. Fine by me.
"M'Lady," he calls back to Lucretia, "Could ye do the honors?" He indicates the oil canisters with a nod of his head, then focuses on staying in between the tree and Lady Wyld without getting killed.
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Thomas watches out of the corner of his eye as Edgar weaves back and forth defensively without throwing any punches as he tries his best to give Lucretia space to use the oil. Stepping in next to Edgar, Thomas begins to twirl his staff in a defensive pattern, attempting to block any attacks against Edgar or himself. Unfortunately, he miscalculates his swings and is of little aid to Edgar.
You've a good arm Reagan, would you throw the canisters on the tree? Lucretia requests of Reagan.
Reagan steps back a bit before throwing the oil can with the lid open. As the can hits the wooded creature, its contents spill out onto It.
Quick! Someone throw a torch! Lucretia requests.
I put down a flint and steel in equipment. Is it okay to have that as matches? Lighters wont really be invented for another couple of decades.
Additionally; what is the lightsource in here? Dark? Candles? Gas lamps?
Flint and steel ok. Gas lamps mainly.
Altair begins sparking the flint and steel quickly in anticipation of Lucretia's demand. His sparks jump all over the place, but he is not able to get any to catch on the spilled igniter.
The beast lashes out at the badly injured con man trying to create sparks. The creature's limb tears across the chest of Altair so hard, it knocks him down again and leaves him barely conscious.
Fitzroy runs to a gas lamp, ripping his starched cardboard collar free as he does. Quickly he stuffs it into the open end of the glass lampshade.
Seems like a move and a standard.
Can he hand it off to someone to throw?
I'm like t' slip tryin' t' beat on that thing now, or worse catch fire meself! Stone glances about...
"Oi, Fitzy! Over 'ere with that taper!"
Against his better judgment Stone readies to harry the tree in an attempt to distract it from George's expected advance.
Sparks fly from the shotgun and ignite the drenched tree creature, tired from the flailing itself, lets loose of one last loud screech.
A vine shoots forth and grabs the nearly incapacitated Altair, pulling him rapidly into the hedge where he disappears.
The icy wind bellows as it passes through the broken glass ceiling that used to enclose the green house and the vines begin to quickly retract towards one central spot in the green house.
Jaw gaping and eyes staring, Lucretia stands in awe wondering what to do.
That's that.
Checking the gun and seeing it's out of ammunition, Edgar gives a shrill whistle to break Lucretia out of her stupor and extends the shotgun grip-first to her. "Best re-load while we take a look fer the screamer 'n Altair, then catch us up quick as you can!" he shouts above the wind. Once she has taken the gun, Stone looks to the other two men to make sure they've held their resolve, then heads through the snowy gale towards the center of the greenhouse.
Whatever the devil's going' on looks like it's goin' on in the middle o' this place.
"I'm little use in a fight. We need to get Altair and get back the the parlour. Come on!" Fitzroy calls.
All are exhausted as the creature and its protruding vines have disappeared into a hole in the floor along with Altair.
Everyone is trying to catch their breath.
The green house is destroyed, save the magnificent white flower as Lady Stonecraft enters.
Hair and clothes in disarray, she has bruises snd scrapes, but no major injuries.
"My life's work! Gone..." then collapses onto the floor in a combination of agony, despair and exhaustion.
Whatever unholy thing that was has Altair now. Is everyone else accounted for?
"We're all here, m'lady, though the lass seems a bit shaken up." Stone indicates the stunned-looking Reagan, then steps up to peer suspiciously down into the hole. "Lady Stonecraft? Who was it we 'eard screaming in 'ere?"
"I'm here" acknowledges Fitzroy "But what do we do about Altair?"
"I figured 'im for the O.B., not some devil-tree's burrow. 'Course, crawlin' in after 'im might be marryin' the widow. If'n we're for it, I'd prefer to be properly dressed this time." Edgar looks to his companions and then Lady Stonecraft, eyebrows inquisitively raised out of their usual scowl.
Lady Stonecraft replies to Edgar's inquiry, "It sounded like one of the servants. Although I do not see her anywhere. Do you suppose that she has disappeared down into that hole with your charming friend?"
"Careful inspecting that hole. Whatever went in might come out again. Perhaps we should head back into the house to better equip ourselves for the investigation. What do you gents think?" She inquires of he companions hastily forgetting to acknowledge Reagan .
George looks conflicted "I suppose... If this thing intended Altair to die, he'll be dead already. If he is a hostage then preparations would be wise."
Lady Stonecraft comes to some realization which quickly forces her to step out to check upon Lord Walker and the other guests. Also, curious about which servant Could be missing, she rushes to the servants quarters to check on who might be
missing. Before she departs, she remarks that there is a cellar below that may give them a better look at where that hole leads to.
"Right; I'll go put me tin on 'n meet you lot back by this cellar, then." Edgar gives a quick nod of deference to Lucretia before heading back inside from the snow-swept ruins of the greenhouse, making his way to his room and donning his recent gift from Lord Walker.
Now attired in polished dragon-crested armor, the bobby looks doubtfully at himself in the the room's full-length mirror. Feel a right fool in this thing; Galahad I'm not! He gives a few experimental swings and jabs, then raps his knuckles against the breastplate several times, hard. Fits like a bloody glove it does, I'll give it that. An' better a fool than a corpse. Still, as he exits the room Edgar grabs his longcoat and throws it on over the armor in an attempt to stifle his feeling of self-consciousness.
Once they've regrouped, Edgar looks to George and Thomas for direction. "Well, Fitzy, what d'ya deduce our best plan of attack is 'ere? Or 'ave ye any guidance from above, Brother?"
"If there's any of you more ready to go, some flammable oil wouldn't go astray." he calls, as he turns to retire to his room.
'Fitzy' looks perplexed "This cellar seems like a good start. I've little idea what we're fighting beyond what we already knew."
Lady Stonecraft appears quickly in a disheveled mess frantically informing the guests as they regroup. " Madame Horos has disappeared!"
"Right; we're on the lookout for the Madame 'n Altair, then. No time to lose." Stone steps back from the cellar door, then charges forward and kicks it open, ready for an attack from within.
Edgar relaxes his stance somewhat, picking up Reagan's lantern and cautiously heading through the doorway. "Whoever's bringin' up the rear best carry that," he says, jerking his thumb towards any flammable liquids the staff has managed to provide.
Fitzroy, gun in one hand and flickering torch tube in the other, steps after Mr Stone. His little dog follows at his feet.
Prepared for the worst, the group descends the staircase until they reach the bottom of it. They are presented with the option of three dimly lit hallways. One to the left, one to the right and one straight ahead. It is too dark to see where any opening may lie to the house above from their vantage-point.
Fitzroy, second in the line, coughs.
"Well, no point staying here. The arrow is loosed. Let us take the via sinister - the path to the left."