Insanity

[Rezantis]

OOC:

Real World Influence remains as before, +1 any roll, 3 persuasion, 2 conversation.

-with earth realm influence, assuming the Stormrider isn't using them, I want +2 HtH.

[Brian]

A guard goes for Nathan, ready to pull him back into the building, but another inmate crosses between the two, distracting the guard for a critical moment -- then Nathan is by the flowerbeds lining the yard, and the guard is chasing the inmate from directly beneath the ... thing.

The beetle's long spindly legs half-unfold, but instead of going to rest on the tips, they extend like rails to lay flat against the ground -- half of them, anyway.  That makes sense, because when it does touch down, it still indents the lawn several inches.  As soon as it's in contact with the ground, the whirring buzz cuts off -- the wings shortly cease flapping.

In terms of size, it's about four times the size of a minivan, with a wingspan that's only got ten feet of clearance to a side.  They're raised a good distance above the lawn, so no one seems to be hurt.  But once the carapace slides back along the middle, two men with aviator's goggles and bright red scarfs leap out, each with what is unmistakably a pistol in hand.  Behind them, a man in ornate brown robes with a red sash and a thick, excessively bejeweled golden chain kicks over a small ladder.

The ladder becomes a stairway, and he marches down without concern, eyes roaming across the inmates.  The guards freeze at the sight of this man, or maybe just the guns; it's difficult to say for certain.

At that moment, Ridgeworth bursts explosively from the door leading back in.  "Maestro!" he chokes out in an alarmed cry, his eyes widening.

The robed figure glances at Nathan, his eyes narrowing, before turning his attention to Ridgeworth.  The specter can't be seen, but its voice still reaches Nathan:

"As I live and breathe!  Maestro Aliester Sondheim!  He's the king's personal anabarist!  What's he doing here?"

The Maestro is a middle-aged man, who is just slightly overweight, or, just enough to be visibly overweight in his robes.  He's balding, and his remaining hair is brown, going on gray.  A pair of wire-frame spectacles adorn his nose.  "My time is valuable," he snaps, gesturing back within the vessel he arrived in.

Ridgewick seems to recover some of his lost resolve.  "This yard," he says, "is not to be used as a personal landing site for your ornithopter!  I will thank you very kindly to remove it to the proper location!"  He gestures at the guards.  "Round up the inmates -- sedate them if required, this is much more upset than the yard was intended for!"

[Rezantis]

OOC: All plusses to DCV!  

IC:

"Do I know him?" Nathan murmurs quietly.  Hopefully the ghost can hear it.

Nathan turns some attention towards the guards, and tries to make sure there's other inmates between him and them.  He'd like to see what the hell this is about, and odds are it involves him in some way . . .

[Brian]

"You shouldn't," the specter begins, as another figure emerges from the ornithopter.

"Don't presume," Aliester Sondheim spits at Ridgewick.  "I have no time for you.  Fetch your master immediately.  I will have ... words ... with Hathoway."

Ridgewick trembles slightly, but shakes his head.  "I can't do that," he says.  "You can come in.  He will speak with you.  But I cannot tell him to come to you."

"Worthless," Aliester sneers.  This is when Nathan turns his attention to the man who just finished stepping out of the ornithopter.

He's probably a bit over six feet tall, very thin, has black hair and gray eyes.  He's got a hawk's nose and thin lips.  Currently he's wearing a deer-hunter's hat, and has a pipe clenched in his teeth.  As another guard begins moving towards Nathan, the man with the pipe in his teeth taps one of the aviators on the shoulder.

"I don't really care what you think you can and cannot do.  I wish to speak to Hathoway, and I don't intend to put one foot into that darkened pit.  Furthermore, I--"

"Maestro," the tapped aviator calls, pointing at Nathan, keeping his gun trained on the ground but ready to raise.

Aliester's eyes go to the guard.  "Away," he orders.

"B...but," the guard protests weakly.  "I--"

"Dr. Shuker?" the man with the pipe calls, taking a few steps closer, but staying close to the aviators.  "I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"This is highly irregular!" Ridgewick protests, clenching his hands into fists and waving them weakly.  "There's a procedure, a protocol, and-"

"And if Dr. Shuker is not in his home by midnight tonight, his property is forfeit," the man with the pipe observes, directing this comment to Aliester, not taking his eyes off of Nathan.  "And, good Maestro, I imagine you know who the beneficiaries of his estate would be?"

"His fiancee," Aliester replies, gesturing at the guard who hasn't moved -- to the Maestro, at any rate -- quickly enough.  There's a crackle of electricity, then the guard collapses brokenly to the ground, and the scent of scorched ozone fills the air.  "Yes, detective?"

"Would," the pipe-man agrees.  "Had she not mysteriously gone missing, her home burnt down."

Aliester's eyes narrow.  "Hathoway can bring his objections to me," the Maestro decides abruptly.  "Dr. Shuker shall be considered a ward of the crown from this point forward."  His eyes go back to Nathan, and he raises one hand, a single finger crooked.  "Come.  I'm certain the royal physicians will do your mind better than staying here."

"I don't understand," the specter says slowly.  "What does His Majesty want with you?"

[Rezantis]

Ignoring the falleng guard, Nathan walks over towards Aliester and the man with the pipe.

"Anything that gets me out of this hell-hole is welcome . . . so ask away."

[Brian]

"No!" Ridgewick wails, realizing his inability to stop the situation, but hating it nonetheless.

"Later," Aliester tells Nathan, motioning him to climb aboard.

The man with the pipe grins, giving Nathan a hand up.  "My initial questions will be quite pedestrian, I'm certain," he says.  The cabin is empty for the moment, the fore section with the pilots separated by a bulkhead.  Opposite Nathan's entrance is another, with two more flight-goggle aviation-guys standing guard.  Dropping his voice he adds, "I haven't found your friends, yet, but your situation appeared most perilous to me."

"Does this man know you after all?" the specter asks.

Aliester, meanwhile, raises his voice -- probably doing something with his anabaric powers to send it further: "Understand this, Hathoway.  Your plotting is all well and good when it amuses His Majesty.  But when you overstep your bounds, you lose your esteem.  Do not push too far, or you will be summoned by His Majesty.  And expected to appear before the court."

There's a sound very like Ridgewick sobbing.  "He's going to take this out on me!" he says, suddenly a piteous whine.  "It's not my fault, but I'll be the one to suffer!  A curse on you, Maestro!  I hope you--"

The rest is abbreviated by a crackle of energy, and the sound of a body hitting the lawn.

The detective smirks, shaking his head.

"Also, keep your pets on tighter leashes," Aliester concludes.  "Failure will result in a loss of permission to use the services of the Gate Technicians."

With that, the robed man whirls and climbs back into the ornithopter, followed immediately by the guards.  The detective helps Nathan into a seat and straps him in, sitting directly at his side.  The aviators remain standing after sealing the doors and grabbing onto straps, and Aliester takes a seat just ahead of Nathan, though he touches a lever and rotates it to face backwards as the vehicles engine whirs to life.

The cabin is thankfully insulated against the worst of the sound, so the Maestro can be heard clearly:  "I hate those who would meddle against the crown."  His eyes go to the aviators, then to the detective.  "The king needs more supporters.  After the declaration of Starflare's loss, this is not something we can afford to misjudge.  You are certain, Detective, that he will support us, and make the king look better for it?"

"I think you should be asking Dr. Shuker," the detective counters, turning his eyes to Nathan.  "You don't look a madman."

"What's this about your house?" the specter asks suddenly, frowning.  He's not visible, but he's still audible.  "That's mine!  Or ... well ... it was....  Bother."

[Rezantis]

"I'm not.  Or at least - I'm not anymore," Nathan grimaces,  "but you'll forgive me for being somewhat out of touch.  My memory of what . . . put me there . . . is pretty much nothing, and they don't keep the inmates abreast of current events at the best of times.""

[Brian]

"Unsurprisingly," Aliester grumbles.  "Very well.  Where shall I begin, Dr. Shuker?"

"Let's tend to his more physical needs, first," the detective says.  "Surely the man will think better when he's had a chance to wash, clean clothes ... some real food."  Turning back to Nathan, he adds, "We're on our way to the palace.  For the moment, you'll be quartered as a guest of the Maestro."

Aliester crosses his arms over the chain on his chest and grunts.

"Right.  First things first -- once we've gotten you cleaned up, we have to go to your home, and make sure that Hathoway's cronies can't repossess it.  I'm sure he'll try and claim that he can't verify your mental wellness due to your absence."

"That festering blight!" Aliester snaps.  "I should crush every anabaric node in his dungeon -- tear the roof off and let the light of day rend him into nothing!"

"Now, now," the detective says calculatingly.  "We can't afford to act rashly.  His Majesty requires support, and the confidence of his people."

"Think of it, though," Aliester complains.  "He would reposes Dr. Shuker's home on the day of the fair?  We celebrate our liberation from the Church, and while the people are enjoying the day, the asylum announces that it's set up a new charity home.  That's his plan.  Win more support from the common people, undermine the king.  All at the expense of this man."  Aliester thrusts one hand at Nathan, glowering at the detective, even though his rage is obviously focused elsewhere.  "I don't like it."

"And unfortunately, until we have more power -- or another Starflare -- the king has to play in the same arena."

Aliester abruptly slumps, his hand falling to his lap.  "I suppose," he grumbles.

Looking out tiny side-windows, Nathan can see the asylum dropping away below, and beyond that, a sprawling expanse of city, miles upon miles of Victorian-style buildings, along with an immense collection of what look like crystal spires -- probably the palace.  Periodically, large hexagonal structures jut upward menacingly, maintaining crackling aurae of the electric-looking energy they call 'anabaric' force.

"How are you, physically?" the detective asks, dismissing the Maestro for the moment.

[Rezantis]

"I'm alright," Nathan responds after a long moment, "better than I probably should be given their ideas of 'therapy'."

[Brian]

"There's no question in my mind who the real madman is," Aliester says sourly.

The detective nods.  "Regardless, I imagine you've got a lot of questions.  The flight should give us a few minutes, and you'll have more time to recover at the palace -- but we also have to hurry to your house to keep it from being repossessed.  This will be easier if you're more presentable, so we can't do that first.  Is there anything you'd like to know?"

[Rezantis]

Nathan rubs his temples.  "Aside from 'just how long was I in there?', the real question is . . . what does His Majesty wish of me?"

[Brian]

"The nation is in a delicate state," the detective says cautiously.  "The Lesser Council has always opposed His Majesty to some extent, but are generally harmless.  The problem is that now the Great Council is being turned against him, too."

"Due to the power-plays of those like Hathoway," Aliester adds.  "Bribes like your estate could buy a vote on the council."

"Not that we're attempting to bribe you," the detective says hastily.  "We want you to support His Majesty.  Of course, that will require us to make sure you are presentable.  As far as how long you've been there, I regret to say that this would be your fifth month of imprisonment."

Rubbing his chin, the Maestro says, "I must say ... considering your condition when the Gate Technicians received you, you have recovered admirably.  I simply have the niggling suspicion that your recovery is in spite of the care being given there, instead of because of it.  As an anabarist, I can read quite a bit of energy in you -- and I suspect that Hathoway may have overstepped his bounds."  He purses his lips thoughtfully.

"Be that as it may," the detective says, "the edict shields him from direct prosecution.  We must focus on His Majesty's support, before we can engineer the downfall of his enemies."

"Fire would resolve some difficulties more swiftly," Aliester says, almost petulantly.

[Rezantis]

"Fire's always a good solution," Nathan smiles thinly, "so please don't tempt me.  I definitely appreciate being out of there."

[Brian]

It doesn't take long for the smoothly flying ornithopter to set down on something, though from Nathan's vantage, the portholes still show the city at large.  Once it comes to a halt, the aviators open the door nearest the detective, who unbuckles himself.

Through the door it's obvious that the 'thopter landed on a pad some height above the city.  Large, crystaline spires jut up to the same level as the landing pad, glittering all sorts of colors.  It's at this point that Nathan realizes that he hasn't seen the sun yet.

"Let's see about getting you cleaned up," the detective announces, offering Nathan a hand down.  "Maestro, if you would like, I'll tend to Dr. Shuker until you've finished attending your other business."

"Just as well," Aliester grumbles, stalking away.

One end of the landing pad contains a small building, maybe big enough to house an elevator.  Two men in military-looking dress with pistols identical to those of the aviators stand guard, saluting with a fist over their hearts when the Maestro draws near.  He waves dismissively, then the door slides open.  Yes, that appears to be an elevator.

The aviators relax visibly once the Maestro is out of sight, and set about tending the 'thopter's engines, while the pilots climb out their own doors, stretching and looking around.

There's quite a view, but it seems to be city as far as the eye can see ... except for a mountain range off in one direction.  With no sun, which direction is hard to gauge.

The palace itself appears to be below the crystal spires, and built of more of the same materials.  It looks like someone turned a geode inside out, and put some spires on it.  Presumably people live in that thing.  Electric energy seems to crackle up and down the length of one of the spires, but the detective pays it no mind.  "Have you eaten?" he asks.

[Rezantis]

Nathan accepts the offered hand more out of politeness than anything else, stepping down.

"I have, but it wasn't exactly much of a meal, so if you're offering - you had questions for me anyway," Nathan responds, "and I have some for you, of course."