Port Annan: Nigel came out from behind the bar and shook his head. "Naw, we ain't always bein' like this. Apparently there been some attacks in London and then further north. People been scrambling to get away. Had some rare port ships comin' in from the south. They be gone by this evenin' I suspects," Nigel said as he glanced around the room and cleaned his hands off on his rag. His overly long brows flickering each time he blinked.

"You's be needin' a room? Or just a meals sir?" he asked as his attention came back to the man he was speaking to. Lord Eagerton walked in and glanced around.

"Excuse me," he said scooting around them and heading over to Lord Rutherford and Millicent. Taking the seat open to the right of Rutherford. "I have a us a carriage, we can leave as soon as we eat," he said as he brushed some crumbs off the table and scowled. "I suggest stopping in Annan to get properly bathed and clothed before heading to the Green. I have a family acquaintance there that will take us in. He wouldn't dare refuse me."

"Oh yes, the Kirkpatricks. Arrogant little prick but he has his uses," Rutherford said as he leaned back in his chair. Millicent sat silent and stoic, focusing on the people passing by on the street.

"That he does," Eagerton stated frankly. "Do you think we will get waited on? Or should just head out? It's only half an hour."

"I'm debating.. If not soon we will. Millicent needs to eat."

Kirkpatrick House (Annan): Lady Kirkpatrick snarked and nodded in agreement. "Grace is not among your virtues," she stated roughly towards Callum. Motioning for him to put a scone on her plate. He did and smiled meekly.

"Ahh but grace of God keeps me alive my Lady. He watches over me and ensures that I not succumb to my fuddling," the Father stated proudly.

"I believe our trials would be far lessened if it did not take an army of angels from above to watch of you when their skill could be put to far more fruitful tasks."

"What more important task for an angel than to protect the deliverer of the word of god?"

"I have plenty under my ward that give the word of god and they need not half the protecting from the dead that you need from your own fuddling."

The father turned red and coughed. Looking over towards Maeve. "Would you like a scone dear?" he asked and then went even darker red as he fumbled the scone and it landed squarely in Maeve lap. "Oh fuddle..."



London: "A fine idea! A hat, yes!" he said as he cracked it open and handed Dieter, his ferret not his brother, the seed within the shell before putting the shell on his head. Oh no, this would not do, it would slip and fall ad fall and slip. Things would needed to be tended to, a hole here and hole there. a pinch of string a tie there, yes, yes, it could work, it would work. It would wait, wait, yes, time to move, time to watch. The world passing by.

The roads were decent and they would move quickly. The fairy finding finds would find ways, off roads here and through woods there. Off the beaten path, Over the river and through the wood to grandmothers house they would go. By and by save the woods and the green and the timbers. This way and that. How it seemed like circles they would move but no circles this day. Like ravens they moved, over the grounds, yes, further and further away from England. Not to Salisbury, no steak tonight. Not to Bath, no wash to be had. By midday they had covered more ground than ever thought humanly possible. "An hour and hour more until we reach the western shores!"

The Sea: The waters were calming and the storm was moving west. As the salt sprayed Marco laughed. "Ha! What a breath boy, hold on. Avast, ye be taken to dryness soon be enough boy. Da lady be safe and sound I be bettin'," Marco said as he wrapped an arm around Fyror and hoisted him in front before beginning to swim. The waters seeming to part as they moved swiftly, Fyror lifting partly out of the water as they moved. Quicker than most ships could with the best of winds. It was nearly nothing before they were at the ropes and nets off the bow of the ship. "Get him up!" Marco called. Hand over hand were reached down and Fyror was hoisted and dropped onto the deck.

The Captain looked at the man and then over at the woman who was now on her ship. Marco came up behind him quickly and landed squarely on the desk, shaking his hair out. "Gots him Cap."The womans brow quirked as she looked at them both. Then she spoke in an unfamiliar language. Her tone was flat as she spoke and her words quick. The men nodded and swiftly got into action. Marco grabbing Fyror. "Come on Lad, lets get you below and dried off. Gots somethan' we cans put ya in."

The men seemed to be ignoring Collette right then as the Captain stepped over to her. "Come with me," was all she said. Her voice like velvet as she spoke before she turned and started to head towards the back of the ship. There was a motion with her hands and the man that yelled to get the blanket earlier sprung into action.

"Hoist the mainsail, course is set. Catch the winds boys, we be heading north!" he yelled and the rest went to work. The captain approached two ornate doors as Marco was to lead Fyror into the bowels of the ship. She waited for Collette to join her at the doors.

"This way lad," Marco said as he stood on the stairs that lead into the depths of the ship.

The Road North: The fire started to die down and nothing more came from it. Where had it comes from? The Lightening from the red storm? Why had it died? Why had nothing else burned? Was there more to come? It didn't seem as if there was for only the sound of the rain could be heard as the flames dwindled down and away. Had there been meaning that was missing or was it simply a ruse to push them off the path? Did they have time to ponder it?

The horse didn't seem to want to stay in the woods any longer and a crackle of lightening, burning white struck further north. Deep in the woods there was the snap of a branch and then slowly moving in behind the trees were figures and a cold chill filled the air as the static in the air grew. The horse whinnied and started to step back, it didn't want to be there. It moving backwards, trying to force riders to let him go.

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William's easy smile didn't fade as the inn-keep spoke, raising an eyebrow slightly at the news. Soulless attacks had become a rarity these days, hunted almost to extinction and banished with wards and incantations. To hear of attacks to the south, and the Soulless being so bold as to attack London itself, was certainly intriguing. Suddenly aware that he had fallen into a speculative silence for an instant, William looked back to Nigel.

"Just a drink for now. Whatever you'd reccomend."

The door of the inn swinging open caught William's attention, and he turned to see a man step through and glance around for a moment before joining the two that had entered just before William. He watched the three for a moment, absentmindedly listening to their conversation. He had a vague memory of hearing the name 'Kirkpatrick' before, but his curiosity didn't drag him away from the bar. He turned back to Nigel, raising his voice slightly to be heard above the murmur of the taverns over clientele.

"I don't suppose you could you point me towards a captain of one of those ships from the south? I do love a good story."

The thoughts of tiny soullesses didn't leave Constantin's mind for a few moments as the image of finger sized monsters going 'rawr' appeared in his mind and he couldn't stop himself from chuckling at the idea of them being squashed under the heel of a big leather boot. This image alone was very entertaining especially given the situation, but then Vlad's loud voice reached him taking about a seed.' Vhat's the crazy person vant vith a seed?' He wondered as he followed and made sure to not fall back even an inch. This was probably going to take a good while of riding before they arrived.

From the looks of it the German made a hat from a snack? Constantin blinked and shook his head, this weirdness was getting to him! He was trying to rhyme for no reason! He took a deep breath and continued his attention on the road Vlad was leading them through... or was it Ludwig that was leading them? Well it was really weird to consider someone having a nice journey while comfortably being carried in a bag to be leading them, but Constantin did realize that indeed the cookie fellow was supposed to be the current guide.' Guess madness is it's own revard....' He mumbled, looking over the bag. Who knew what the world looked like to that one and what he was seeing. As much as Constantin held a grudge, he couldn't help be wonder what ideas and thoughts filled the head of the currently little man. Madness was often said to be mistaken with genious.

'Then again he's vearing a seed shell as a hat...' Constantin thought and decided to stop paying as much attention on the little man and more on the road. Who knew what manners of dangers might appear on this unknown road.

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Thankful to hear that Fyror had made it out of the waters alive and safe, as well as things clearing up, had calmed Colette's nerved. Now she realized how cold she was. She was still shaky on her feet somewhat, but she watched at the Captain spoke to her men in a language she didn't understand. It wasn't English or French, but it was kind of beautiful in a way. Soon the Captain beckoned her and she marched steadily on.

As she did, she watched the others work around her, setting the ship back up to sail. It was rather impressive to watch, though it could be her near-death experience opening her mind up a bit more to new experiences. She walked towards the Captain, eyeing her. She was stunning and had an aura that shone far beyond what Colette would normally expect from a ships' Captain.

"Thank you and your crew again for saving our lives," she said as she got near the Captain. She was hesitant to see where she wanted to go, but hopefully, it meant for a change of clothes and perhaps some warm food or drink? Colette hoped, but it was better than being in the water still with that...thing.

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Fyror glanced back at the man, his lips thinning slightly. Despite his rescuer's best intentions, the man's words didn't fully put his mind at ease. Then again, nothing truly would until he saw with his own two eyes that Miss Fontaine was in fact alive and well. It wasn't that he didn't believe the man's words. It was just that--well, it was just who he was, overprotective until the very end. He finally nodded his head in simple reply. He grimaced a bit as he was hoisted in front of the man and pushed along towards the nearby ship. He felt a little bit like a ragdoll right then. If it weren't for the fact that he would probably drown himself due to his currently exhausted state, he would have just swam to the ship himself rather than be some sort of inconvenience. Perhaps it was ironic really that the man who was always going out of his way to help others wasn't accustomed to getting help himself.

It struck him then as they were already closing in on the ship how inhumanly fast they were going. You could blame the near-death experience just prior to his rescue for that little delayed reaction. Apart from the strong need to see that Colette was safe, everything else was a tad foggy in his mind at the moment, understandably so. The cool air bit at his skin as he was finally hoisted out of the water and brought aboard the ship. His legs were rather shaky as he was dropped onto the deck. He was surprised that he even had the strength to stand at all considering what he had just endured. He glanced around, taking everything and everyone in. It didn't take long at all for his gaze to hone in on Colette's wet and shivering form. She was alive, and that was all that truly mattered to him at the moment. "Colette," he mumured, letting out an audible sigh of relief.

Fyror glanced back at his rescuer before wearily eyeing the supposed captain. A part of him was still a bit on edge. Though these people had rescued them, for which he was truly grateful, he still didn't know who they were or what their intentions were. As such, he was rather reluctant to be separated from Colette yet again. His gaze flitted between Colette, as she was ushered away by the captain, and the man who was to take him below deck. He hesitantly followed after the man, though his gaze kept returning to Colette until she was finally out of his line of sight. He took a deep, steadying breath before finally meeting the man's gaze head-on.

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It was a strange feeling for Vladimir, being away from his people. He knew that it might be some time before they met up again, and from the looks of things, in another country altogether. The stories of this Land of Scots and their air bladder pipes, blown by men wearing colorful, pleated skirts after consuming kidney fat and viscera stuffed into boiled sheep stomachs came to mind, though they were related by storytellers and performers; men and women who made money by the telling of fanciful and compelling tales. Such made the rumors within much of Mother Russia, at any rate.

The thought crossed his mind as he rode along the path picked out by Ludwig, that he might not make it back at all. That maybe, in Soulless infested Britain and away from the strength of his people, the present incarnation of The Great Bazhooli would meet his end someplace dark and away from the familiar, with nothing but the collective images of the Tretiy Glaz to possibly inform those who were sensitive to it. But, such was life! Such was adventure! Such was the path of The Great Bazhooli! Sallying forth on a quest uncertain for a lady that he was barely introduced to or even informed about, for the sake of his dear Veta and newly discovered, if distant family in the London Crypts. And even Scary Catholic Girl, just because he and his father were fond of her. The fact that Veta found a friend in her was likewise fortunate, though in her own way she reminded Vladimir of Sister Sophia. Maybe it could be looked over.

But his mind digressed. Adventure! He could barely contain discussing it. "Am running ovv vith probably strangest man that have ever met (and just met, is true), guided to city I have never heard of, sail avay over vaters I have never seen vith eyes, to land feets have never touched. Land vhere men vear skirts, peoples marry qvickly, and innards eaten with oakbarrel booze!" He threw a free hand into the air and let out a riotous guffaw, his great ebon horse baeringhim onward. "Yes! Is.. vait. Vhat hell means 'hour and hour more', eh? Is hour and little more time? Or is two hour? Huh?" Inquiring minds wanted to know.

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Following a brilliant light in the distance might work out just fine for people in storybooks and the like, but this one looked to be a torchbearer dropping them off of a cliff. Rain, dying light of a once bright flame, and creatures of uncertain origin prowling around in cover of shadow and foliage. This seemed to the quite the coincidence, or quite the trap. Mary could not say either way; she could only assess their situation and act within the best interests of herself and Virginia.

Her horse, Cassius, did not want to be there, and so neither did Mary. They had a preexisting reason for being on the road North, and it was high time that they got back to it. If Providence allowed, of course. Mary had to assume that these creatures were Soulless. And the two of them needed the horse, not just to complete Virginia's task with Millicent and Mary's with Rutherford, but at that juncture to survive enough hours to find safety elsewhere, were any to be had. They might likely perish on foot with Soulless prowling the woods. They certainly would not make it to Gretna Green in time. Mary allowed for the instinct of the horse to prompt their egress, though in a fashion showing control over panic.

"Virginia," Mary said quietly, remaining as alert to her surroundings as she could, "I make for the road." She held the reins in one hand while the other gripped her halberd as a spear or lance, counterbalanced for quick strikes yet providing necessary distance. "If we must fight, we should do so on open ground. If we must escape... we need a clear path to accomplish it."

Port Annan: "Right away sir," Nigel said as he stepped away and went back behind the bar. Pouring the man a scotch, they were in Scotland after all, and slipping it across the bar top. Glancing around he quirked a brow. "Well, I don't see any right now. Most are probably on their ships getting them ready to head back out on the noon tide," Nigel said as he kept looking around the room.

The waitress came over to Rutherfords table and taking their order. It was a quick one, nothing they would have to wait too terribly long on. "Seems we will eat here," Eagerton said as he got more comfortable in his seat. Rutherford nodded.

"We are in a hurry but we are ahead of schedule," the man said as he looked over towards Millicent and smiled. She looked away from him and drew a long breath. "Oh my dear, you need to keep up your strength. I promise we will be wed by the evening," he said reaching out and patting her hand. There was a sharp nod from her as she looked back out towards the window.

"Lord and Lady Rutherford, it does have a nice ring to it. And who thought the attack would speed things up," Eagerton chuckled slightly.

"Indeed. Seems the heavens are blessing this match," Rutherford said as he picked up his tea cup and took a sip.

Nigel looked back over to the new arrival. "There are several here that I do not know, so I can only assume they are from the South. I know that one though. Lord Eagerton. He comes into port for trade and such from time to time. If rumors have it correct, then I would place ten to one odds he just came from Manchester where the most recent attack was," Nigel said as he held his hand out and awaited payment.



Bristol: "By and by, by and by, tick tock, tick tock. The mouse ran up the clock, the clock struck one the mouse ran down, hickory dickery dock." Mice, little ice, white mice and gray mice. They ran, were they blind? Did it matter? Probably not. He was watching, he could see. This made him happy, not mad, happy. Dieter, his ferret not his brother, was curled up in the bottom of the bag after eating the seed and napping now. Not Ludwig. He had a hat to make. Oh yes a hat. Pop out here, pop out there. Oh a piece of thread, what luck! A tie there and a tie here. Before he knew it, he had a fine hat to wear that would stay in place. A fine hat indeed!

"City ahead!" he said joyously as he pointed, them cresting the ridge. Bristol was now dead ahead. Or Straight ahead. Straight is better than dead, unless your Gay. Then you are happier dead than straight. So, gayly forward we go, gallop gallop gallop. "Ships ahoy! Chips ahoy! Oh cookies! Sweet lovely cookies. Could use a cookie, you want a cookie? Do we have cookies?" Ludwig rambled as he started rummaging through the pack. Oh damn, no cookies....

The Sea: Leading Collette into the Captains Quarters, the Captain shut the door behind them. The room was large and looked very different than the rest of the shit. It was ornate and looked to be a room of finery transported out of a manor and into the ship itself with its lush bed and drapes and chairs, finely crafted furniture, stain glass windows out the back side. The Captain pulled her cloak off and tossed it onto the crimson velvet covered bed as she walked over to the curio. "Strip," was all she said as she opened the door and started looking through what she had.

Collecting some items she tossed them onto the bed. "Change." Her words were not barking orders but they were firm as she spoke what few words she spoke. On the bed now lay a pair of black pants, a flowing crimson poets silk shirt, a waist corset, belt to cinch over it, black lather gloves and the tiniest unmentionables.

Sitting down behind her desk she watched Collette. "You are not dressed for a fishing vessel, what were you doing on one?" she finally asked and awaited an answer.

Below deck, things were not as plush. It was bare minimal down there with rows of supplies and hammocks set up for the crew to sleep in. There were a few rooms with doors that were closed and a large eating area. The smell of food wafted through, someone was cooking somewhere on the ship. There had to be a kitchen somewhere further below. Marco led Fyror to a hammock and reached into a bag that was hanging next to it. Pulling out a pair of trousers and a shirt he sniffed them and shrugged. "Good enough," he said before tossing them over to the man.

"Ye know, this is where ye say Thank You," Marco said as he sat down in the hammock and planted his feet on the ground. "Think someone of your rank be raised to say it sooner but ye land lubers aren't always the most grateful when it comes towards us sea folk now are ya?" he said with a smirk. "Best improve them manners boy 'for ye see the Captain, she ain't the forgivin' type."

The Road North: The path back and the road will be clear if wet and muddy. It is the Soulless coming from the other side of the fire that one would need to worry about. The horse is tired of waiting and makes a spinning break for it, rushing back out the way you came and heading north down the roads. The storm is growing that way but seems to be moving swiftly as if something is pushing it. The fire is out now in the woods and cannot be seen anymore, even from smoke. It seems to be gone as quickly as it set in.

The road seems odd, as if it is shifting color faster than it should be. The terrain moving in an odd manner as the horse sprints but the woods where the fire was and the Soulless it held within are now far out of sight. Did one lose time or space? No, it just must be the rain.

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His eyes flashed, and a smile lit up William's face as he watched Nigel pour him a scotch. He took it as it was offered, nodding in thanks slightly as he watched the barkeep glance around the crowded tavern. He shrugged slightly as his quest for a captain, or at least a good story, seemed to be dashed, for now. However his ears pricked up again as Nigel continued, and he followed the older mans gesture, turning to look back at the table of three he had noticed earlier. He raised an eyebrow slightly, before turning back to the bar.

"My thanks, friend. For the story, but mostly for the scotch of course!"

Reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket, William pulled out his wallet and leafed through it for a minute before dropping a coin into Nigel's outstretched hand.

"And keep the change."

William was in no rush, and he took a first sip from his glass. The smile didn't fade. The scotch was local, he could tell that much. The lowlands distilleries had that distinctive lack of peat in the taste. Strangely enough, it almost made him nostalgic. His first drink had been in a modest and lively tavern on the banks of the River Spey, years past, and the local distillery... He couldn't remember the name of it now. But they hadn't used peat either, and with the drink in his hand, he was a teenage boy again, just for the briefest instant, and then it was gone.

Taking another drink of the scotch, William turned, and strode across the tavern. In truth, he'd been half-listening to the trio's conversation since they'd walked in, and he already had a good idea that if any of inn's patrons were going to lead to a good story, it would be these three. As he approached, he stopped, flashing a smile.

"I'm sorry to intrude gentleman, madam. But you wouldn't be Lord Egerton by any chance, would you?"

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Virginia let out a bit of a melancholic sigh. The figures in the woods, the static in the air...It was the Soulless, acting as a collective once more. It was a sight that was becoming beautifully and alarmingly common. And then with the signs of dear Mosi...Perhaps there was a message from her father to be found as well. Yet she knew that she could not convince Mary to stay and the horse seemed to have made the decision for them both, heading as far as it could as reality seemed to warp slightly around them.

"Do you see this distortion?" Virginia asked Mary, incredibly curious. As disappointed as she was that they couldn't remain to explore the strange events, they seemed to have found themselves in another place of oddity. Perhaps this was again some sort of work of a dark force - maybe Veliona was looking out for them. The Dark Mother could have been capable of this, Virginia was certain. Yet it also struck her as odd in its own right - how far were they now from Millicent's likely location? And what became of Elizaveta?

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Maeve's eyes widened ever so slightly at the scone landed in her lap. Had this happened back at home, she would have hit the offender over the head with her stick - unless it was Roisin. For Roisin, she'd just teach her daughter better aim. And she was a child. Maeve saw children as filled with potential - none more so than her own - and at least for the moment, worthy of receiving the benefit of the doubt. Try as she might, she wasn't able to get a read on Calum. She didn't know if he was genuine - or even if he was someone that could be trusted despite the deceptions. Or maybe this was just how he was.

"I don't tink I 'av much av a choice as ter whether or not I'm gettin' a scone nigh, do I?" Maeve said rather pointedly, picking up the scone and smoothing her dress to remove any residual powder that had been left behind. She didn't know if Lady Kirkpatrick expected her to refuse to eat the scone, but it was in her nature to not care. A scone that spent a few seconds touching the fabric of a dress was perfectly edible. Yet from the information she had gleaned about Lady Kirkpatrick, she was certain she would have done the same - at least in her early years.

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Colette came closer to the cabin when she heard her name called. She turned to see Fyror being led by some men and she couldn't help but smile. After all, he had saved her life. She owed him a debt of gratitude, once they were off this ship. But she was quickly led into the Captain's room. It comforted her to know he was alive at least.

Once inside the Captain threw some clothes out and told her to strip and get dressed. Colette could feel a blush come across her cheeks. She wasn't embarrassed to change in front of someone else, especially another woman, but it was more of the commanding nature to it that embarrassed her a bit. Still, she was thankful to get out of her wet clothes. So she took them off and got dressed in the ones provided. She wasn't used to wearing pants like this though. She had to admit, she rather liked it. It took her a brief moment longer as she was not used to the articles, but she managed.

She turned to face the Captain now when her question was posed and Colette was unsure how to proceed. They saved their lives, sure, but did that mean she should trust them and tell them the truth? "You are right. We were traveling to find a friend of ours and the fishing vessel was the only one who would grant us passage. And then that...thing attacked us."

Having a certain facts pointed out to him by Vlad, Constantin raised an eyebrow as he thought about it. Sure enough they were following the funny tiny man through paths they've never seen to that place they've ne... He suddenly shook his head to snap out of it. These thoughts were certainly well infecting! He grimaced and decided to stop thinking about it and focus on thoughts about Veta. He always knew she was hot headed and reckless at times, well she was from the circus which would explain that, but this stunt certainly put things in perspective.

Constantin sighed silently and looked about the place. Who knew where they were now, he certainly didn't and all they had to go on was the words of Ludwig... whom wasn't even local to begin with right?' Vell things are certainly turning out to be an adventure. Not hte best kind of adventures though...' He looked at Vlad's bag which contained tiny German fellow and a ferret.

“At last...!” He stated as there was a city to be seen ahead of them! They had arrived at the supposed Bristol place.” Mister Ludvig, do you have any interesting ideas about a ship?” Constantin called and looked at Vlad.” Doesn't hurt to ask... he made a vall open up after all. Vho knovs maybe there be a undervater ship or something.” It was a fair argument... right?

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Fyror followed the man down below deck, his gaze taking everything in as if it could give him some insight as to who these people were and what their intentions were. The interior certainly wasn't grand, but he hadn't really expected it to be such. It served its purpose, surely. The question was what was said purpose for this vessel and this crew? His lips thinned slightly. He normally wasn't this overly cautious, but then again, he didn't normally go on dangerous missions with a woman and for a woman. He wasn't stupid, he knew how overprotective he could get, particularly so in regards to the opposite sex. It was just in his nature, his greatest asset but also his worst affliction.

He let out a small sigh as they came to stop in front of one of the many hammocks. He eyed the guy as he rummaged through his stuff before pulling out, sniffing, and then tossing some clothes at him. He reflexively caught the flying articles of clothes as the corners of his lips twitched upwards. The smell test? He was familiar with that one. His brother Leon was proficient at it, at least until their mother caught wind of it and scolded him for it. The smile fell from his features as he thought about his family back in London. He hoped that they were okay. He hadn't left on the best of terms, storming off on some arrant mission to rescue a woman he barely new.

He was abruptly pulled out of his moment of reminiscing by his rescuer's next words. He blinked and shook his head lightly in astonishment. He couldn't remember the last time he had been accused of having bad manners. Perhaps in his younger years, but not in quite some time since then. Nevertheless, the man was right, and he was mature enough to admit his mistake. "My apologies, sir, for my breach in conduct. I am very grateful to you, your Captain, and your fellow comrades for rescuing Colle--Miss Fontaine and I when you did." he replied earnestly. "Thank you for the fresh change of clothes as well."

He turned slightly, resting the clothes on a nearby hammock for a moment so he could he remove some of his equipment before changing. He took off his belt, which had his sheathed katana and single shot pistol attached to it, and set it aside. The latter was probably a bit useless now until he could get fresh, namely dry, gunpowder. He pulled out his soaked wallet from his coat pocket and set it by the others with a sigh. He also had a canteen and pocket watch on him. He probably lost the swagger stick at some point. He quickly then changed into the dry clothes, not fazed by changing in front of another man. He was from a garrison after all. Once he was changed, he began to replace all of his belongings. "The name's Fyror by the way," he commented, glancing over at the man.

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The cresting sight of Bristol gave Vladimir a sense of accomplished joy. Not so much in having plotted the course himself, because he most certainly did not, but in the sheer novelty of reaching someplace new in the course of a grand undertaking. Regardless of the potential outcome of their little adventure and the ramifications of failure, which in truth he did not fully comprehend himself, he was simply thrilled to be along on this. Perhaps even in England, the name of Bazhooli would eventually become known and, in the appropriate circles, held within the province of fear and wonder. As well it should be.

Vladimir gave heavy praise to the antic filled and seemingly shithouse crazy Ludwig, saying, "Indeed, visdoms ov Grand Duchess and Catholic Girl both are having good compass, da? For is the second time knowledge ov German ally Ludvig has save-ed eh, vhat is... The Bacons! Da! Vith the Saving of Bacons, I am seeing. Am having the gladness now; Master Ludvig chose Circus."

The quick ride into the city and near to the Harbor brought Vladimir's thoughts back to Constantin's words from earlier. "Undervater ships? Hmm... I think is fantasy. Maybe wrong. Vould very much like seeing vone, if they have in harbor..." Such marked the fleetness of mind that The Great Bazhooli possessed, and his willingness to keep an open mind. Even if it did involve such technological impossibilities as underwater ships. And upon further thought, he really did want to see an underwater ship now. Damn that Constantin for putting the thought in his head! He would have to hum a tune later in the hopes it played repeatedly in the Firewalker's brain for many hours. But this was counterproductive.

Vlad leapt to a standing position on his saddle, so as best to view his surroundings. He placed his very tall hat upon his head, and shielded his eyes as he looked around the harbor, searching for telltale signs of a light boat readying for departure. Luckily, he was able to find a few that fit the bill. Keen eyes scanned the waterfront, careful only to pick out the ones with crew upon the vessel who were supplying or only doing light offloading, and were only temporarily secured to the harbor's mooring points. He was no expert on the subject, but he had done an extensive amount of traveling in his respectable lifetime. He knew which boats to try, at the least. Inwardly, he hoped that they didn't hate foreigners.

Vladimir dropped back into his saddle and turned to his fellow circus performer, handing him a few sterling coins. "Lot of merchants. Lot ov supply peoples. If vould please, Constantin Firevalker, ve are needing to supply selves for journey. Get vith Master Ludvig, seeing how long boat trip vill take. Also needing fodders for horses. Am not losing Brivaldi horses to Englishmens." He thought for a second, then returned to speech with a great smile on his face. "For please! Am hearing ov British style Fishes & Chips! Am hungry, and having never tried the Fishes & Chips. Vhile I do this, please purchase for me the Fishes & Chips? Fishes & Chips for all ov us! HA!"

As he trotted off upon his mighty performance steed, down toward the vessels he thought might be amicable to his needs, one could her the brusque voice of The Great Bazhooli call out, unbidden, "Fishes & Chips!" with a solitary finger pointing toward the air.

Extreme luck seemed to have found Vladimir, as the second person he spoke to gave him a very curt, very short conversation concerning passage on his merchant vessel.

"How many people?"

"Three."

"Horses?"

"Two. Important for keeping horses."

"Provisions?"

"Am not knowing vhat best for looking for, but have man on it."

"Right then. We're stocking for a haul, so if your man's not that good at it either, we can help. You got money?"

"Da, am having monies. Some now, some vhen people get here?"

"Whatever. That money down pays for us to stay until your people get here. Then we're off. North, River Esk Channel. Puts you off near Gretna."

"Good, good!"

"Horses stay in the hold. Roped off part. Hope you don't mind sharing a cabin with your friends, otherwise it's a hammock in Cargo. Hey, you fellows belong to a circus or something?"

"The Circus, Shipmaster. Only Circus that matters." Vladimir returned to standing upon his great horse, Tolstoy, so that he could see and be seen by his friends, next to the sail bearing merchant vessel that waited for them to board. "MAKE QVICK" he shouted through cupped hands, hoping that his people got the message. He was probably the only other Russian on the scene, and the only guy standing atop a riding beast.

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Virginia asked Mary a question that she had intended to ask first. Indeed she saw the distortion, but more than that she noticed fundamental changes in the makeup of the road. This felt different somehow. Even the trees seemed like they were different than the ones they had left earlier. Had that flaming pillar of a tree hexed them somehow? Had this been another type of Soulless with which she was unfamiliar, that worked some arcane and unknown ability? Were they claimed by the darkness? The only things that seemed to stay the same was the wind and the rain, making life perilous for all those caught within it.

Mary maintained her grip on her halberd but slowed the forward progression of her horse. This was different. Very. "Indeed, Virginia. That was most unusual. Providence has conspired to test us, but it also seems to have removed the obstacle of attacking Soulless from our immediate..." Mary stopped cold. It was a physical impossibility, what she saw ahead. The lights of a city, from just around a bend in the road. They weren't supposed to come upon Manchester for quite some time. The potential distance had Mary worried they may have fallen off the path, trying to get back out of the woods just earlier. Another forest road that merely resembled their intended, that they did not figure out in the dark and rain.

Trotting into the streets bearing living quarters just outside of the town proper, Mary was fortunate enough to see a little boy peering out of an unshuttered window. "Child," Mary softly called, getting the boy's attention, "Child, we are lost. What township are we entering?"

"Carlisle, of course ma'am!" he piped up, before a matronly set of arms whisked him away from the window and clapped the shutters closed.

"Carlisle? No... It can't be." wondered Mary aloud, a look of concerned confusion across her face. Conformation of the boy's words came in the form of a lightning flash, briefly illuminating a sign proclaiming entry to the Great City of Carlisle, in Northern England. Mary did not know whether to be joyous or scared. "This makes no sense, Virginia. None."

House Kirkpatrick: Lady Kirkpatrick shook her head slightly. "A bumbling buffoon you are Father Fuddles. Nearly ruined a perfectly good scone because of your ways," the Lady Kirkpatrick scolded before going about her tea. "At least she had the good sense not to let it go to waste." There was a bit of a gleam in the old womans eyes and a nod towards Maeve. "Did you bring what I requested?" she asked and Calum nodded before pulling out a small folded piece of paper from his inner coat pocket and turning it over to the woman.

Unfolding it she took a look. After a few moments, her eyes raised and locked with Maeve. "We need to talk deary, in private." Rising from her seat, she knocked the tip of her cane against the ground. "Have Rory fetch the coach, we have things to attend to," she said and Calum rose, tripping slightly but not as badly as he headed for the door. Lady Kirkpatrick stopped by the girl now working for her and let out a breath. "This way child."

Stepping out of the room she walked down the hall and outside. Her nephew trying to beckon her but she waved him off saying something about needing to get some fresh air and away from the exhaled vomit of her kin folk. He stormed off in a huff as she climbed into the carriage with the aid of Father Fuddles. (Beginning to think this needs to be his name.) Once inside she rested herself down and Calum waited to help Maeve in if she needed it or would even accept it. Either way, once both were loaded in, he climbed on top with Rory, nearly breaking his neck in the process before the carriage pulled down the drive and went for a bit of a tour.

Port Annan: "Thank ye sir, thank ye kindly," Nigel said gratefully before turning his attention back to the other patrons as they were coming and going, helping out at the tables when he was not swamped at the bar itself. The place was far more crowded than it had been just a day before.

"Well worry not old friend, we will have you married post haste. Not a soul in England could catch up to you two love birds now," Lord Egerton said with a smile and Rutherford chuckled. Millicent forced a slight smile but it faded as someone else came over to the table. Rutherford quirked a brow looking him over.

"Yes, I am, and usually it is proper manners to introduce oneself before inquiring about the name of another," he said as he sat there. Lord Rutherford glanced over to Millicent who kept her eyes down and didn't look up at the new comer.

"Millicent darling, come sit by me and make room for this fellow who we do not know his name as of yet. It is crowded in here, wouldn't do well not to show some warm English hospitality, even if we are in Scotland," Rutherford said as he rose and held his hand out to his fiance. Millicent swallowed hard and nodded. Taking Rutherfords hand and rising from her seat.

"Of course," she said as she stepped over to the other side of the table and sat in the bench like seating on the other side next to Rutherford.

"I am Lord Rutherford and this lovely young woman is my fiance Millicent Wyndham," Rutherford said as he introduced himself and Millicent before taking his seat once again. "I say, you do look far more calm than most of us have, I take it you are not fleeing anything," he chuckled.



Bristol: Once in the city and a ship had been secured for passage, Ludwig waited, peaking his head out of the bag constantly until he found just the right moment when others were not looking before he popped out of the bag like a rabbit out of a hat and grinned as he looked around. Tall as he should be. Dieter, his ferret not his brother, scurried out of the bag and up Ludwigs leg until he was perched on his shoulder looking around.

"Big boats, little boat, sailing boats, merchant boats, pirate boats, dark boats. Soulled Soulless boats, sailing the seven seas. Yo ho, yo ho, a pirates life for me, along the ways of the seven seas, a pirates life for me. What do you do with a drunken sailor, what do you do with a drunken sailor, what do you do with a drunken sailor, you send him out to sea," Ludwig sang and grinned wildly.

The grin turned towards Constantine before he rushed over to Vlad and smiled and then darted onto the ship. He wasn't wasting anytime. He went up to each crew member and then frowned. He was sad, not mad but sad. "No La Canela, slow, slow but is okay. Faster than ground, faster than earth, faster than dirt," he said as he pulled out his journal and started writing in it. Dieter, his ferret not his brother, still perched and looked around as if he was searching for something.

The Sea: The captain leaned back in her chair and a black cat jumped into her lap, purring slightly as it curled up and got comfortable. "A woman of your clothing would be better suited on a luxury ship for Peers instead of a fishing vessel." Her voice was more reflective than accusatory as her fingers curled against the cats black fur. Her skin so pale compared to the black. The cat yawned and batted at the captains fingers but it did not stop her.

"That look becomes you, perhaps in another life," she said as she looked down at the cat. "I have to wonder," she said as her eyes slowly came back up to Colette's. "If perhaps you weren't escaping something as well." The cat jumped down from her lap and onto the desk. Meowing as he walked to the other side and sat down, looking at Colette.

"I be Marco, and at least ye be dry now," Marco chuckled. Leaning back and getting comfortable in one of the hammocks he swung slowly as he crossed his ankles over each other and pulled out a dagger. It wasn't in a threatening manner, simply spinning the item between his fingers and turning it this way and that. An idle practice it seemed.

"Just what in the hell was ye land lubers doin' on that ship? You ain't be lookin' like no fishermen I ever been seein'. Unless the dress has been changed since last time I was in these waters," he chuckled as he tossed the blade up and down, catching it and moving it through his fingers before tossing it again.

Carlisle: That was a hell of a jump now wasn't it? But yes, the two women traveling are indeed just on the southern outskirts of Carlisle now. How? It boggles the mind. Even at a pushing pace, it should have taken another day to get this far, it not more. There is a sickening feeling now in the pit of each womans stomach, as if something was moved that shouldn't have. Or perhaps moving that fast without realizing it is making you sick. Either way, you aren't the only one feeling it. The horse gets sick and looses whatever it had been fed in the last town you were able to stop in.

The town seems on high alert but if someone had headed out from London after the Attack on Almacks, they could have reached Carlisle by now. It would have been a hard trek but they could have. Granted no trek across the English country side is easy. Yet if they have come this far so quickly. It means Gretna Green could be reached by evening - that is if they are up to continuing. That will depend on fate now though. Rolls before proceeding.

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William smiled, nodding his head slightly in greeting to each of the three figures as they were introduced. He couldn't help but find his eye caught by Millicent, but he was wise enough to not let his gaze linger. He took the offered seat gratefully, placing his glass down onto the table and sitting down at the table. He turned to Lord Egerton first, his smile not fading as he raised his glass, both in greeting, and in thanks.

"Please forgive my manners. I must admit, it's been some time since I was last in such gilded company. But allow me to rectify the lack of an introduction. My name is William Fraser, just a humble traveler who plays music for those who will listen. Our mutual acquaintance behind the bar suggested that you are the man to talk to about the recent attacks in the south, and I'm not one to pass the chance of a good story."

Turning at Rutherford's introduction, William nodded in greeting again.

"A pleasure to meet you both. I admit it, I am not normally the fleeing type. My feet move to the rhythm of the music in my heart, and that often seems to lead me towards danger, rather than away from it."

William gestured to Nigel to come to the table, and turning back to the group, he glanced at both Rutherford and Millicent.

"I hope it is not too bold of me to propose a toast for the happy couple, to wish you both many years of happy marriage."

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Virginia was in deep thought for a moment, as they ascertained their whereabouts. As much as she wished to marvel at what had occurred, Mary seemed to be confused and Virginia's mind offered up a few possibilities. The realm of the impossible became more and more real as time passed on, and she took in a breath of air, still musing at what had just occurred. "There are several explanations," Virginia began. "The first is that it is an illusion - that we have gone mad and shared in some hallucination - yet I feel as if we have moved unnaturally quick," she said, pausing as she considered the sick feeling in her stomach. "Another possibility is that some unknown Soulless or Trained person has caused this effect. And of course, that as you suggested, a deity has decided to take a stake in these circumstances."

The poor horse lost its last meal and Virginia felt a twinge of pity for it. "The town does seem to be on alert - I suppose news of Almack's must have spread here," she told Mary in a hushed tone. She did not know much about horse care herself, and as of such, did not know if they should dismount or if they could press onwards. Yet they were closer to Millicent, that much Virginia was in certain - or at least, closer to where she may be or may have been.

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Once Lady Kirkpatrick indicated her approval for consuming the scone, Maeve ate it as delicately as could be whilst Lady Kirkpatrick looked over what Calum had given her. She didn't want it to go to waste and she was glad to have consumed it quickly, since it was time to be on the move. As Lady Kirkpatrick met her eyes, a bit of nervousness came but she didn't let it show. She had a bit of difficulty reading the father, but he wouldn't have sold her out. It didn't make logical sense for him to go through all of this effort, just to expose her.

Nodding, Maeve rose to her feet and followed Lady Kirkpatrick out. She registered the nephew having a bit of a fit, remembering his instructions to her pertaining his aunt, as she went outside and shook her head slightly as Calum offered to help her inside. She didn't want to make physical contact with him and she wasn't a wilting flower that needed to be helped into a carriage. Once seated, she turned and gave Lady Kirkpatrick her undivided attention, allowing her to speak first since Maeve worked for her now.

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Colette looked down at her attire. It was oddly charming. At least it was better than her wet clothes. The fact she was recognizable for her class was a bit off-putting, but then again perhaps the ship captain doesn't see many like her and lumps them all together. Either way, she read her fairly well. Colette was impressed. "It was the only vessel we could afford at that moment. Monsieur Kildragon was kind enough to accompany me or I may not have even managed to get on a ship." For better or worse. She had insisted on coming along.

At the captain's comment about her escaping, Colette looked into the woman's eyes with a sort of fire. She was about to defend herself and claim she had no idea what the woman was talking about. But it did occur to her that, perhaps she was. After all, she had come to England for that sole reason. Escape. "I...yes. Escape is a good word for it, I suppose. My life back in France would not be what I hope for myself. Boring, I believe is the word. Wed to a man I cannot love and will not love, despite how it would help my family. But I should not bother you with my troubles."

Colette chuckled to herself. She opened up more than she thought she would to a perfect stranger. The woman just had an air about her. "You seem to know this though. Am I such an easy person to read?"

“Right avay!” Constantin replied at once when Vlad gave him the important task of supplying. He nodded, pulled the reigns, about to ask the crazy German if he should ride with him, but apparently the cookie fellow had his own ideas and ran for the boats. The firewalker just sighed and pulled the reigns turning the horse to move in another direction in search for supplies. The food for the horses was also very important!

Supplying for a ship voyage wasn't Constantin's forte, but he did what he thought best. Bought food for the voyage, a few bottles of some kind of alcohol, rum he believed, then there was the matter of water. Searching for the fodder for the horses at this time took a turn in difficulty, but that too sorted itself out eventually with the proper moneys involved in the transaction. Finally there was the other important task, a task of utmost importance since it was given by the Bazhooli himself! Fishes and Chips!

Supplying the meals for now was done from a place that sold food naturally. He had some problems getting the arrangement with the one who sold said food, but after a round or two of hand gesturing, pointing and money transfer he also had the food prepared. All in all the bags were rather heavy and he had the horse carry the fodder, the poor animal, he really didn't want to do this, but they were tight on the time. Thus with his trusty steed carrying the heaviest bags and he himself having a big bag thrown across his shoulder he headed back. There was also this wicker hand basket he managed to have the fishes and chips put in for easier carry. He really could have used some help with this and his mind wavered towards the quirky German whom he swore once more to have a proper vengeance on.

Finally well loaded with provisions he arrived back to the ships and quickly located the one Vlad had picked.” Supplies for journey are prepared!” He stated and raised the wicker basket.” Fishes and Chips too!”

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The corners of Fyror's lips quirked upward in a small, halfhearted smile at the words of the man, whom he now knew as Marco. However, the smile soon faded as quickly as it had appeared. He seemed so serious in that moment, as he deftly replaced all of his belongings back onto his person. His belt with its sword and scabbard. His currently unusable pistol. His soaked wallet. And his other odds and ends. All the while he eyed Marco with his peripheral vision, particularly when he pulled out a dagger. Fortunately, he didn't really take the man as a threat. Marco had saved his life after all.

Once he was done replacing his things, he finally turned on his heels to face Marco. He leaned back against one of the wood supports as he crossed his arms over his chest. There was clear tension in his demeanor, like he was holding back something, and in a way, that was most certainly true. He had been holding back a flood of emotions, namely fear, for quite some time. But, it wasn't fear for himself. No, it was fear for Millicent's safety, and now Colette's too. As far as he was concerned, they had wasted enough time already. He needed to get back to business, his own health be damned. If Miss Fontaine needed more time to rest, that was her prerogative.

Fyror arched a bit of a brow as Marco began to question him. He then let out a small sigh before speaking. "We are on a mission to rescue a woman from someone who is destined to use her and then kill her. We took whatever ship we could find. We need to reach Port Annan as soon as possible. I fear we've wasted enough time already," he replied a bit curtly, starting to feel a bit agitated over everything.

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Vladimir was fast realizing that attempting to control any of Ludwig's actions for the sake of propriety were ultimately doomed to failure. Moreover, the attempt to do so might actually cause him to miss out on these little tidbits of interesting information. Water travel was indeed faster, in many instances, than overland travel. But this other option that he mentioned: Canela? Lacanela? La Canela, perhaps? It was difficult to tell what Ludwig said sometimes, as English was not a native language for Vlad and the German fellow had the most distinctive accent. But these people, were they the traveling equivalent or possibly superior version of The Circus, as it came to the open ocean? It was a curious little mystery for him; one that he intended to ask Ludwig about later on.

In the meantime, Vladimir had led his great black Brivaldi horse, Tolstoy, onto the boat. He unburdened the animal of his bags, the flat wooden box, and the like, including the cloth-wrapped bundle for Millicent if they should meet in time. By the time he was done, Vladimir heard the unmistakable voice of Constantin, returning from the marketplace. With a laugh and a hearty slap on the back, he assisted his colleague by taking up the big, heavy bags from him, starting with the horses' fodder. "Da, da! Is job of moderate amazingness, Firevalker! Good." He quickly set his personal gear and a good amount of their travel provisions to one side, and then let his other two companions in on the deal. "Ve have cabin. Is not big, but is having bunks for us all. Iv not vanting rooms and bunks, hammock in cargo. Not knowing how long trip vill take, speaking something about Esk. Are vaiting for us to veigh anchor and make vith the leaving, so..." His eyes settle upon he basket in Constantin's arms, kicking off a brigh and wholehearted smile. "Fishes an Chips! Ha! I am hoping you brought enough for us all, and extras besides! Fishes and Chips!" Vlad took up a hearty portion of the common street food, and even as the boat prepared for immediate castoff, began stuffing his face with wild abandon.

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Mary did not feel well. Mary's horse did not feel well, either. It was more apparent with the equine, as it lowered its head and partook mightily of the mid-thoroughfare horfing. Mary was slightly better off, maintaining position atop her mount amd being, thus far, free of horfage. It allowed her to address some of the points that Virginia had made about their present, unusual circumstances.

"I so not believe it illusion," she began, leading her horse up the road at a walk, "else it is an illusion shared between ourselves and Cassius." She patted the horse's neck, checking to see how it was faring after the session vomiting. "Mad, spooked, or upset horses oft make their displeasure known dramatically. Not do I believe that a Soulless lent their aid to our cause; it would go against my suspicions, and fly in the face of their normal behavior. Perhaps we have an ally. A living ally, I mean to say."

"I recommend that we take but a few minutes to water Cassius and give him minimal feed. Then we press onward. We might hazard the last push to arrive in Gretna Green."