The situation was rapidly improving in the firewalker's mind as they were finally back on the road and heading for their destination. He nodded at the directions and the usual manner of speech coming out of Ludwig as he made his horse follow after Vlad. Gretne Green... supposedly the destination where they would fin Veta. Well that wasn't a certainty, given the nature of the problem. The vision he had back then weren't about her as far as they could have translate it, but if that vision was about the woman that Veta was looking for and it appeared to be so, there was a good chance Veta was near. at least that was the firewalker's hope right now. He would have wished they had direct line to chase after Veta herself and not some other woman, but this was going to do. Though he couldn't deny he was worried something might happen to her before they find her or she finds her target. This was a very nasty possibility, but he was refusing to let that be the case. Dammit he was going to deny the possibility that something happens to her until the last possible moment, even if he had to scour these lands step by step!

There was also another question that was puzzling him right now too as his train of thought ventured to Veta once more which led him to the case where she got pretty chilled by that weird Soulless at the lake. Something was definately up with these lands and he couldn't help consider that fact. As passionate and stubborn as he was, he was a careful in equal measure at least. The attack in London was big, attacked place was rather packed with people, then there was a weird soulless of unknown origin. It all pointed out to something happening behind the scenes. This concerned him a lot, especially the unknown creature. Soulless tended to have specified weaknesses that required specific knowledge or skillset to defeat, if another unknown soulless appeared, one of unknown origin and way to defeat, how can they defeat it? Rather, the bigger question was what manner of beast had remained unknown to them for all these years? What else was lurking out in the world, waiting to attack at the underprepared them?

Heavy was his mind at these thoughts, maybe the situation wasn't as improving as he believed it to be initially. Maybe it was getting worse instead." Bazhooli, do you recall that creature that attacked as by the Circus?" Constantin asked." Vhat if we encounter it again? Hov do ve fight it? It might not be a coincidence it had targeted Veta back then. It may appear once more. Ludwig, you have any ideas on that? It flies, had multiple heads I think and seemed to use Ice and Mist. Hov ve fight that?"

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The question of the true nature of the monster that attacked Veta brought a lowering of Vladimir's expression just as quickly as Ludwig's estimation of their proximity to Gretna Green had raised it. Oh, he hadn't forgotten about the creature. It was part of the reason he wanted to get to their destination and secure the safety of the Grand Duchess, among other motivations. He had stood up bravely to the thing, like Constantin had done, but ultimately was unable to do anything more than drive it off. Vlad suspected that it left for its own reasons, however, and could likely have destroyed them at its desire. Why it specifically sought out Elizaveta was likewise a mystery. Still dour of expression, The Great Bazhooli nevertheless had to nod at his associate's line of questioning. They needed knowledge. The mad German had been a worthwhile source of it so far.

"Da. Big rubbery testicl... vait no, is like, eh.. осьминог? Octopus! Da, tentacles! Big rubbery tentacles. Freeze the very lake underneath. Try to take avay Grand Duchess." It was less of a description than simply his way of agreeing with Constantin in the wordy, dramatic way that was his habit. He did offer up a suggestion, be it without the benefit of anything aside from conjecture: "Perhaps, brother Firevalker, big floaty shitsplat is not liking our performance. Vhat do ve do if Circus is losing crowd?" He grinned broadly, nudging his horse in the direction of the bridge that Ludwig had pointed toward just earlier, "Ha! Now, let us try the same trick... ON FIRE!" The very idea sparked a sense of wonder and excitement in Vladimir, considering the opportunity to exhibit himself and his Circus as warrior-artists, combining every positive aspect of both showmen and soldiers against the universally common enemy of the Soulless. He would dance the steps of a flaming Mamushka with his people and smite his enemies in a way that was both terminal and entertaining. And if he failed? So be it! Another Great Bazhooli would rise. Perhaps with an even more impressive moustache. The thought made him grin all the more.

Kirkpatrick House: The Lady Kirkpatrick nodded and started to head towards the parlor for a drink but stopped as Maeve mentioned the letter and held it out. Quirking a brow she took it and continued on her way. "Why yes, do pour us a drink and shut the door if you would," she said as she stepped over to an arm chair and sat herself down. Looking over the letter she noted the address before popping the seal on it and began reading what Millicent had written. 'So that is how he plans to do it," she muttered under her breath before looking over to Maeve. "Yes, that drink now," she said folding the note up and slipping it into her breast pocket and grumbling slightly. "Shame, I do so hate to have prune the family tree but what can be done? Sometimes a rotten apple can spoil the bunch." It seemed the Lady Kirkpatrick was rather unhappy to what she had read about.

Road to Gretna Green From The Kirkpatricks: The driver looked over towards William and shrugged. "Title rarely means means in these parts," he said as he snapped the horses to pick up pace. "From the looks of it, I would say the lady he is to wed has more than he does," he said as they continued down the road. Perhaps that was true. Both their clothing was of fine making but hers was without frays or wear. Pristine. His had some wear to it. Maybe the man just didn't want to waste money or maybe he didn't have enough to have his items repaired or polished to their fullest. "Maybe it was just a long journey," he added with a shrug. It could have been that.

Port Annan: The man nodded. "Yes Miss, they hired a carriage to House Kirpatrick. Tis to the east. At least he did. If they were the ones traveling with him, then I would suspect they went there as well." Looking back at his log he ran his finger down it. "They should have arrived there by now but there is a note here that they would be keeping the carriage and driver for the day. I do not know if they were going elsewhere. I doubt I will see the driver again until the morrow."

Closing the book he looked back at Colette. "If you would like to travel there, perhaps we could be of service? The roads are dangerous. Would you wish to hire to go or do you have a means to get there yourself?" he asked looking around. She had come over without an escort and without a horse. "We could have you there within the hour."

Road to Gretna Green From Port Annan: On the road they were but the road they were not. Once they were out of town, Ludwig did what Ludwig does and pointed them across unmarked roads. Cutting through here and there once over the bridge, once they were on the right side of the water, or the well yes, right side if one was facing the map and it was pointing north. Could be the left if the map was pointing south but who would hold a map south? So silly. Then came the words of what attacked Veta and Ludwig slipped down into the bag with Dieter, his ferret not his brother, because of course, his brother would not fit in the bag. Mores the pity because it would have been nice to travel with Dieter, his brother not his ferret but he would still have his ferret. Two Dieters! A brother and a ferret! To words he spoke. "I will see, I will see, I will read to see, let me see!" he called out from the bag as he curled up with Dieter, his ferret not his brother, flipping through one journal but not the other to see if he could find what he wanted.



Road To Gretna Green From Carlisle: Ny looked over to Virginia and chuckled ever so slightly. "Oh no, it is just a journal of my travels," he said as he closed it and slipped it back into his bag. "Yes, each of us, well of me, my people. We all have one. Some of us have two, one for one purpose, one for another, but this one, we all have. We travel, learn, write. So many oddities in the world, so much fun, we seek out more, we write. Minds get soft, things get forgotten. Always best to write. Write all we see and do," he said before a light seemed to go off in his eyes. "Which I should write, write, yes, about you," he said before pulling the journal back out, and a quill to write with. "I only have the one, my dear friend, and his mentoree, well they have two," he said with a chuckle as he flipped open to a blank page and started writing in his skill language. "Though if I live much longer I will have to have more pages added to this one, a life time of travels, so many travels. I do so prefer the east to the west," he admitted. Stopping he laid the quill down on the page and pulled out a newer journal, one that was blank, and pencil. "Here, one who seeks knowledge should record such," he said with a wink as he handed it over.

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It stood to reason that Lord Rutherford and Millicent traveled to the Kirkpatrick house. Where else would they have gone then? It was her best bet and she was running out of options. The real trick would be how she would get into the house when she got there. Up until now she had been telling people she had a message for Lord Rutherford, which wasn’t entirely a lie, but she truly had none. Which meant she would need to find some other way to gain access. Perhaps she was in the area? No, that made no sense. She was new to the country, why would she be here of all places?

Perhaps she would figure something out on the trip over there. The roads were indeed dangerous. She had already brushed with danger on the open waters, she dared not risk any more attempts. “Oh yes sir. I would be most grateful. I have no horse or escort of my own. Any help you can provide would be welcomed.” She had forgotten up until recently she had been traveling with Fyror and now the man was gone, leaving her to her own devices.

She hoped it would not be terribly expensive. She would also have to keep her wits about her. Traveling on the roads, even with aid, was still risky. It wasn’t just the Soulless that targeted travelers. Bandits, highwaymen, anyone willing to get dirty to make money. She felt the weapon given to her and was content she would be fine.

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While some may have become outraged and infuriated at being corrected, Virginia took the correction with grace and smiled. The man was more well traveled than she had thought and it was a stroke of luck as well - for he had seen her father. The location of India did not make much sense to her still, but she did not doubt Ny. She took him at his word, a decision she felt in her soul that she would not regret. She smiled slightly as he said that he was going to write about her and she had to wonder what he was going to put. She wasn't going to ask however how Ny would remember her - it was a personal thing and she had no reason to believe he would write ill of her. And if he did, it would not be the first time someone had thought poorly of the Crypt family.

She was genuinely touched as he handed her a journal and a pencil. "Thank you - it is beautiful," she said, giving him an honest smile. "I wish that I had something proper to give you in return," she admitted. It felt a bit odd to her, to not give an exchange here. He had given her something precious and she wished to be able to do so in return. However, there was one thing she could do, as she picked up the pencil and began to write on the first page, describing Ny. "For now, I shall just have to write about you until I can remedy this," she told him. She would have to fill in the pages with details on Mary and Elizaveta and Millicent and James and all that had come to be - but that could wait. Her memory was sharp enough for now.

However, each time he mentioned Ludwig, she had to admit she felt a little something. That was something to think about later.

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She nodded as Lady Kirkpatrick took the letter, following the elder woman into the parlor and shutting the door behind them firmly. She didn't anticipate that anyone would be back soon, but it was best to take precautions, especially if the conversation was going to be as sensitive as Maeve anticipated it would be. There was something about Millicent's letter that told her it would be important to Lady Kirkpatrick's affairs - and her loyalty was to the woman whom procured Roisin's safety, not to one who showed up out of nowhere and left as quickly as she came. She pitied Millicent and pity did not buy Maeve's loyalty.

Bartending was not something Maeve was unaccustomed to - it was how she had helped her family to earn their more legal living. Getting the proper supplies out, she fixed up a drink for Lady Kirkpatrick and brought it over to her, before making one for herself. She prepared both of them to be rather stiff, figuring that Lady Kirkpatrick would want something strong and would scowl if she served her anything less than that. "I 'ope 'tis to yer likin', me lady," Maeve told her, referring to the drink. Seeing the reaction to the letter, Maeve grimaced slightly, though she was swelling with pride on the inside. Her gut instinct had been right. "If yer don't mind me askin', what does it say?" she then asked, taking a seat herself. It had something to do with her nephew, she suspected, given Lady Kirkpatrick's comments about pruning the tree. Still, Maeve was curious as to what the fuss was over.

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The driver was right, William knew that just because someone had the means to pay, it didn't always mean that they would. Not only that, but his point about Millicent was an interesting one. Was she the wealthier of the two? Would that go some way to explain the strangeness of the whole coupling? William still couldn't quite figure out what was happening between the two. From what little he had heard Millicent say, it sounded like there was little love between the two, that there was something darker behind the marriage. To be frank, William's interest was starting to wane. He'd taken the opportunity to play, and the potential of adventure, but so far, his journey had been fairly disappointing.

The Soulless attack had been a point of interest, there was no doubt of that, but he'd only arrived in time to see the aftermath. The Kirkpatrick House, and indeed Lady Kirkpatrick herself, had also provided some entertainment, but he'd seen plenty of grand houses in his life, and although he wasn't sure he'd ever met anyone quite like Lady Kirkpatrick, he knew her type. Perhaps on another day, he would be more committed to freeing Millicent from the prison of a marriage she appeared to be careening towards, but in truth, she didn't seem like she wanted to free herself. He didn't like Rutherford, some part of him recoiled every time he looked at the man, but he was hardly about to fight the man over a woman he'd only just met. Especially not one already engaged, after all, he'd made that mistake before. Realising that he hadn't replied to the driver, William looked across at the other man and shrugged slightly.

"Perhaps. I always find it hard to tell with this sort. The sooner we get to Gretna Green, the better."

Constantin just nodded at Vlad as the man burst into his usual antics, but he did approve of the direction his leader was thinking about of dealing with the flying monster thing.” Fire... that may vork, maybe ve can put it to the torch...” He mused at the idea of roasting the flying thing. If it didn't work, well they could simply burn and burn and burn it all away until only dust remained. Yeah he wished they could do it.” It do not like our performance, then it simply has a bad taste in skill and entertainment! All that are right in the head love the circus!” Constantin stated proudly. He was a passionate circus person in the end. He refused to believe anyone would dislike the performances the circus put on! If they didn't like it, they they must have a few things wrong with their noggins.

“Take your time. We've got a long road ahead.” Constantin said to Ludwig as the tiny human said he was going to check if he had info on this weird flying monster. Frankly he wasn't sure if the German man will actually have anything written in that book of his, but who actually could say. The man was a bag of surprises and mysteries so far, it wouldn't be surprising if by some actual stroke of luck for them there might be something that Ludwig could reveal about the thing. Ideally though it would stay as far away form them and Veta as possible and they wouldn't ever see it again. Constnatin wasn't that naive as to believe it would be the case though.

Still while Ludwig was busy book researching for the information, but was he really reading a book? Constantin had no way of knowing case Ludwig was in the bag of his saddle and the firewalker wasn't going to remove his eyes form the road to try to check what was going on in the bag. For now they had the road pointed out to follow and he followed after Vlad.

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It can be said that the stamina of a Brivaldi horse knows no equal. Whether it was true or not, there was no denying the power, speed, and surefootedness of the majestic beast that was bearing the massively ostentatious yet legendary performer who inherited the title of this generation's Great Bazhooli. The Great Bazhooli. Often imitated, never duplicated. Accept no substitutes. Either the horse or the impalement artist. But I digress - The great horse, Tolstoy(!), gave a powerful snort as he set hooves past the bridge, somehow understanding its master's wishes for speed and anxious to open itself up to its potential. Tricks aside, this was a horse that could run in such a fashion that it seemed not to stride upon the ground, more than plant its hooves and shove the earth behind it.

Thinking in concert with his horse, Vladimir reined the beast in the precise directions provided by their guide and ally, Ludwig Zimmer, and let it unleash its thunderous fury upon the unsuspecting countryside of southwestern Scotland. "Da! I am agreeing vith Firevalker, Master Zimmer. Take vhat time you can in saddlepacks. Ve must make vith the certainties that vhen ve meet beast again..." His voice took on a dangerous edge as he drifted into a grimmer aspect of his personality, eyes narrowing and gaining a bright intensity in the celtic sunlight, "...it vill not escape us. No vone attacks our Veta. No vone." Vladimir was generally a man of dramatic action, be it open and boisterous or dark and intensity, coupled with stretches of expectant brooding. But this instance had both he and his horse pummeling the unfamiliar ground in the relentless journey northward, resting his psyche somewhere between boisterous and intense. "Just tell vhen to turn!"

Kirkpatrick House: Reaching over the Lady Kirkpatrick took the drink. Picking it up she took a small sip and then glanced over the rim of the cup to her before taking another. "Already proving more competent than most in this house," she said as she lowered the cup and setting it back down. It wasn't an out right compliment but she wasn't scolding the girl for not being able to fix a drink.

Looking back at the paper she sighed. "Let us see... Gerard, I must be brief. Protect my sister. Gather what is hidden within the books, the ships shall not be mine much longer. Not all the snakes were driven away. Dagger of blood will have to do to remove the head of the lion. I hope to see you again. Millicent," she read before folding it back up. There was a look in her eyes as she looked over towards Maeve. "The girl is smart." Picking up the cup she took another sip. "Probably going to get herself killed but she is smart. Seems she and I have a common enemy, two of them," she added as she lowered the cup.

Road to Gretna Green From The Kirkpatricks: The driver nodded slightly as he kept them on course towards Gretna Green. "Yes, always hard with these lots. Our kind, so much easier," he commented in passing. "I just try to live, to survive, they are always playing games, working to one end and another and another, weaving their webs, over and over until all is too heavy. Such complications, such headaches," he said as he reached up and rubbed the back of his neck lightly before taking the reigns again.

They rounded a corner and he pulled back on the reigns hard. Someone was standing right in the middle of the road he had taken towards the Green. It wasn't the main road but the man hadn't taken a main road since they started this little journey. Side ones tended to be targeted less but this, this didn't wasn't sitting right in the man stomach. Something about the way the man was slightly hunched over just standing there. At least he thought it was a man. The persons back was to him and even as the carriage pulled to a stop, they didn't move or turn around.

Port Annan: The man nodded and glanced around. Looking at what was available and thinking to himself. He looked back over towards Colette before looking to weigh the options. "We do have a carriage, not the most comfortable but if you do not know the way it would most likely be best," he explained before motioning towards one of the horses. "Those, while not for rent for a days travel are for sale if you would prefer. If you can ride that is and do not mind traveling alone. A second rider can be sent with you to show you the way for an additional fee," he added before waiting on an answer.

She had two options outside of walking. He added in some cost after a few minutes. They seemed reasonable. The cost of the carriage was far less than horse and additional rider. Rental versus buying. But, the carriage was only the cost to take her there and then drop her off. A horse, of her own, could prove to be more valuable in the long run. It would keep her from having to take on additional costs or hoping to find a carriage down the road. Both options had their perks and their downsides.

Road to Gretna Green From Port Annan: They were all on their way. Over the river and through the woods to Gretna Green they were traveling. Knife man, fire man, fairy man, and Dieter - the ferret, not the brother, not a man but a noble one indeed was Dieter! Every so often Ludwig would pop his little head out of the saddle bags, his wings flickering some, looking this way and that, pointing this way and that, directing them off the main road and in a different route than one that was usually taken before dropping back down and hiding in the bag. It was comfy to him, better than a saddle. No bugs in teeth.

"Dieter, Dieter, my steed, not my brother, what creature do they speak of? Oh how I would love to see a pair of pointy shoes. Yes, point shoes, he would know what to do, to do, to know, the new or the old. Farrer travels, what or what could I do if he were to be here with his pointy shoes. Older friends travel hard and long and well, with stories of cabernatches and gibberblotters, no, this is not a cabernatch. They only have two tentacles. Oh please, not a cabernatch, furry mouths of mossy teeth that disolve you like sugar. Sugar? Yes, sweet but no. Oh what I would do for a pair of pointy shoes."



Road To Gretna Green From Carlisle: "Ah, yes, then please, do. Honored to be your first entry," he said with a bi of a chuckle and smack of his lips. Looking down he went to writing in his own. It was nothing to him, nothing at all, the journal it was nothing, the writing was everything. Yes, keep track, mind can go blurry or maybe that was just him, or his kind. A touch of madness seemed to lay within each of them. Some a bit more than others. His seemed to be a spacey speech and constant smack of his lips. Though he had more it wasn't the time. Or maybe it was and it just hadn't then.

The carriage slowed to a stop and there was a jostling of it before the door swung open. "Sorry Mi'Lady, sir. The road is about to get a lot more bumpy, I did want to be warning you before I started pushing forward," he said tipping his hat. "I'll give a knock on the roof when we's passed the worst of it, just be holding on, don't be wantin' ya to get hurt," he added with a smile before shutting the door. There was another jostle as he climbed back into the drivers seat.

Ny smiled slightly and glanced over towards Virginia. "Well, you did chose wisely now didn't you?" he said with a bare chuckle.

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Wise words. William had almost been caught up in those webs before himself, once or twice, and he knew how deep they ran. The rich and powerful lived in their own world, and it wasn't luck or manners that let them keep their grand titles and fancy country homes, it was a ruthless determination. It was cut-throat, and anyone who thought that the world of nobility was all parties and good food was a fool. William opened his mouth to reply to the driver when the carriage suddenly jerked to a halt. It only took William an instant to realise why.

His hand went instinctively to the ebony hilt of the dirk on his belt, and he frowned slightly. Whoever the figure was, it didn't move, despite the carriage sliding to a halt just a few paces behind it. William didn't like the look of this, and he glanced around where they had stopped, wary of a trap of some kind. Bandits weren't unheard of in this region, but it wasn't the thought of bandits that was worrying him. The surroundings seemed clear, but some instinct told him that they weren't alone. Years on the road had taught William to not ignore that instinct.

He put his hand on the driver's shoulder, keeping his grip on the hilt of his dirk as he gestured towards the brush to the side of the carriage, where he could have sworn he saw movement. Confident that the driver would stop them from being caught unawares, William turned back to the hunched figure on the road in front of them. Shifting forwards slightly in his seat, William shouted out to the man, hoping that his voice would not only carry to the figure, but also to the two passengers within the carriage.

"Greetings, stranger. Do you mind clearing the road for some fellow travelers?"

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"The honor is all mine," Virginia said, turning Ny's phrasing on itself. She paused in her entry however as the carriage slowed to a stop. Instinctively, she was prepared for the worst. There had been far too many Soulless attacks lately and she was ready to take her axes and use them to remedy any sort of situation that developed. However, as the door to the carriage opened and revealed the driver, she realized that the slight worry had been for nothing. They were perfectly safe - if it had been another time, it would have been disappointing, this uneventful a carriage ride. Yet she had Ny's company and was learning so many wonderful things, there was no need for a blood match as well with the undead. "Of course, thank you for the warning," Virginia told the driver.

Taking the journal and pen Ny had given her, Virginia closed them and placed them with her other belongings. She kept one firm hand on her possessions and another on the carriage itself, in order to prevent herself or her items from being sent flying as the terrain became more hazardous. She nodded at Ny's comment, though truthfully she would never know if the other carriage driver would have been sufficient. It was the way of the universe - it was pointless to ponder what could have been, as it ultimately only caused pain. "When you saw my father in India... was my mother there as well?" Virginia asked Ny. She had heard from her father and Ny confirmed that he was alive, but there had been no mention of her mother yet.

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Maeve couldn't help but feel a swell of pride that her guess as to the Lady Kirkpatrick's drinking habits was correct. The stiffness of her attitude and persona was matched by the stiffness of the beverage, a general rule that Maeve found to be true. Of course, there were the occasional exceptions but didn't every rule have cases where it didn't hold up? With her own stiff drink, Maeve took a sip of it, before listening as the Lady Kirkpatrick read the contents of the letter to her. Truthfully, much of the letter went over Maeve's head. She knew it was dealing with Millicent's sibling and holdings of her family. The snakes she took to most likely be people who sought to betray or harm her, like the Devil in the Garden of Eden. And the dagger of blood with the lion? That was where the letter lost Maeve.

At the mention of the two common enemies, Maeve figured that had to mean Lady Kirkpatrick's nephew and then... the fiancé? Millicent hadn't seemed particularly fond of him and he was close with the nephew, from what Maeve could tell. It would then fall into the ships not being hers much longer - as she was going to be married. "I take it those enemies are yer nephew an' 'er 'usban' ter be?" Maeve asked, wanting confirmation that she had understood the contents of the letter properly. If she didn't, then there was no point in her thinking more on this now. However, at least she had been right - this did connect into the Kirkpatricks. She doubted that Millicent's note would be sent, but she didn't regret showing it to Lady Kirkpatrick at all.

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Colette had to weigh her options then. She came here with no means of transportation or escort, especially now that Fyror has gone off to do his own thing. She knew no one here. She was, by all accounts, alone. She wished she had her own horse with her. One she had established a relationship with already. Though she was sure the horses here were trained well, it was hard to look at another horse the same way as the one back home.

She could rent a carriage, but then what happens after she gets there. What if she needed to leave or travel somewhere else? It might be safer to have someone else with her, in case something happens along the road. She was not without her own means, of course, but safety in numbers.

She took a moment further to think and decided. Having a horse would benefit her in the long run. She did not mind traveling along and the fee was reasonable. The man seemed to offer her the best possible price and wish to aid her, which she had to admit was a relief. It would be so easy to try to swindle her out of more income. “I shall like a horse then. And I will agree to the additional fee of having a second rider show me the way. Would hate to get lost right away on my travel there.”

"Indeed!" Constantin replied to Vlad's enthusiasm about hunting the flying multi-headed tentcled menace. They had a bone to pick with this thing and it was going to be in need of sorting out before long. Pride didn't allow to keep this unsolved, pride and grudge! Still grudge was only as good as the means of settling said grudge and they didn't have any of those right now. The creature they had encountered was an enigma, one that wasn't familar to Constantin in any bloody way. None of the circus folks seemed to know it and others seemed perplexed by it, otherwise reactions might have been different? Well maybe he should try to draw the thing as best as he could for easier time asking people if they knew it? Though he was seriously wondering how people didn't seem to be aware of the big scary flying monster. Where the hell had it popped out from? Some hole that led to hell? Or maybe it was a devil of some kind? Though considering things, he hadn't quite seen evidence devils existed... Well soulless were a thing, but they weren't really demons... probably.

Suddenly thinking on train of logic, Constantin reached a rather curious conclusion." Actually... hov did soulless came to be to begin vith?" He asked aloud with pondering voice as they were following the little Ludwig's directions on where to go. This appeared as random road picking to him, but who knew if it wasn't some secret thing." I don't mean hov more soulless appear, that ve knov. Vell for the most part, for those ve've trained and studied. Vhat I meant is... vhere did they came from ORIGINALLY? I mean, I never thought about it until nov. Hov did soulless happened to be a thing to begin with?" He asked, frankly not sure if anyone knew the asnwer, but it was a good question. He didn't know the answer and he felt curious about it.

Constantin then looked at the saddle bag." Hov you found anything, Ludvig?" He asked, it's been a lil since the German started his search." Any luck vith it?"

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The lines of inquiry running involving the more academic of their group (that being Ludwig) did not directly involve The Great Bazhooli. He was a man of some learning himself, though not of the more scholarly pursuits to which the odd German fellow had devoteda good portion of his brainpower. His was more of actionable ability, that and language. No sense in working up a crowd with emboldening speeches if they did not understand a word of it. The origin of Soulless seemed to be the topic at hand. While it was indeed a topic most interesting to him, being as his people were often called upon to handle these matters in their home Empire, it was not one that struck him as being important to the moment. Ergo, this generation's incarnation of The Great Bazhooli gave it only passing attention, or what passing attention was possible when tearing up the path behind them whilst in the saddle of a fine Russian Brivaldi horse.

To that end, Vladimir was perched atop his noble Tolstoy(!), riding high in his saddle and making the earth beneath him dangerous for man and borrowing mammal alike. His keen eyes scanned the land before him as his body remained braced for movements either gradual or sudden; the subtle type that shifted weight and allowed the horse to know precisely how and when to change direction. One strong, dexterous hand gripped the reins while the other trailed behind him, acting as both ballast and a sort of wind rudder, giving him a greater sense of solidity and range of movement from the back of a galloping steed.

One piece if he conversation did reach into the maelstrom of his attention. It was the repeated mention by Ludwig of something involving "pointy shoes". Vlad was beginning to unravel some of the Ludwig To Russian (and/or English) translations. There was some meaning behind those word, maybe another piece of the overall, grand puzzle. "Master Zimmer!" he called behind him, "Who is this pointy shoes man?" Or maybe Vladimir had no clue what the hell was going on with the man, and this was just going to be another awkward, incomplete conversation while they rode along the more secret roads of southern Scotland.

Kirkpatrick House: The Lady Kirkpatrick held up her hand and moved it side to side a bit. "Half and half my dear," she said before lowering her hand and taking another long sip of the drink that Maeve had made. "One is from my own tree, so yes, melding nephew with the brains of a worm is one that must be done away with before he spoils the entire bunch. House Rutherford though, I do not believe he is the main one I should worry about, at least not with this. Just a carrier instead of the writer," she said as she lowered the glass and set it down.

Leaning back in her chair she sighed a bit and rubbed her hands together. "Shame really, twas hoping he would at least not need pruning but I cannot have him undo a life time of work just to get control of this house. He would only bury our name," she said in a rather vexed voice and hit the table slightly with the end of her cane. She seemed to think for a moment before looking back over at Maeve. "Do be a dear and fetch me parchment and ink, I believe I have work to do."

Road to Gretna Green From The Kirkpatricks: The person in the road didn't say anything, just slowly turning around. It would have been hard to tell just what he was doing there, if it weren't for the blood on his hands that came into view and fangs that started to show as he opened his mouth. He didn't have long to speak though as a murder of crows swarmed in from the side and one could swear there were feet within in the cloud of black feathers. There was a gurgling sound that came from the man after a cut off scream before his body hit the ground. As the birds started to flutter away and back into the sky, dispersing there was the back of woman standing over him with a sword dripping in blood gripped in her tiny hand.

Slowly she turned around and revealed her face. Her clothing, if one could call it that (more like strategically placed sheets of silk) was in tatters and her pale skin was covered in bruises and blood. Her blue eyes went over to the carriage as she let out a ragged breath. "Vould you please tell me where I am?" she asked in a thick and heavy accented voice that sounded like a bird. The driver gulped a bit and glanced over towards William, not exactly sure what to say as the whole thing had happened so quickly.

Port Annan: The man nodded and went about what it would take to make the exchange. The cost of the horse, the cost of the rider, writing things down, having a horse saddled for her, and a rider to go with her. It did not take long before the exchange was complete and he handed over the reins of a horse to her. It was a black stallion that looked well enough for the price. Not too young, not too old, the shoes were on well, the saddle was old and worn but in fair enough condition. An older gentleman came over on a brown mare and sat there. He wasn't exactly pretty to look at and dressed poorly but he was there.

"House Kirkpatrick?" he asked as he steadied his mare.

"Yes, all you need to do is lead her there," the man that Colette had been speaking with said. He nodded. "Need help Miss or you got it?" he asked looking her over. He would help her if she wished, if not he would stand back. Once she was ready to go, they would head out North from Port Annan and then east.

Road to Gretna Green From Port Annan: So many questions, so many questions. Dieter, his ferret not his brother, didn't ask so many questions. Then again Dieter, his brother not his ferret, never really asked too many questions either. Both Dieters, the ferret and the the brother, both seemed content to just let Ludwig do Ludwig. It was happy, not mad. Very happy indeed. These new people, so many questions. Brain would travel from here to there.

"Fear, so much fear. Fear of what was, fear of what will be, no fearing the unknown. Unknown is not scary, what we know is scary. Can't unknow what we know, unknown safe since we do not know. But must know, knowing is knowing, can face. Better to face than to lace. Lace, so soft but scratchy, hate lace. Point shoes, so pointy, good pointy. Ulrich has pointy shoes. He teaches with pointy shoes, dances with pointy shoes, knows with pointy shoes. Very stylish, very stylish indeed," the man rambled on and on.

Looking around he peeked his head out, out of the bad, stand on Dieter, the ferret, not the brother, bones no good for standing, wobble too much, to get better view. Ah, yes, ahh no. Not sure, so many questions. Maybe, not sure. Maybe not. More look, look more, yes, look," he kept rambling before poking his head back down into the saddle and flipping through the pages.



Road To Gretna Green From Carlisle: Ny looked at Virginia and looked a tad confused for a moment before he slowly started to understand what it was she was speaking about. "Oh no, I am sorry but the book does not show me that. Just I was sayin' that that type of ability is one of India. And one had to be alive to send such. He must have friends there, or at least one that knows how to use, though they do not travel from their jungles, so only safe to assume he is there." Sitting back more in his seat he braced himself some as the road got a little rougher. "I know not of your mother, I do not have such an ability, though, their might be some somewhere, I cannot remember," he said pondering more to himself than to her right then as they continued down the road.

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William really didn't like the look of this. The figure didn't respond to his hail, and he tightened his grip on the handle of his dirk. It didn't take long for his fears to be realised. One look at the blood-covered hands and extending fangs, and William knew that they were in for some trouble. It seemed his thirst for adventure may be about to be quenched. Gritting his teeth, William rose to his feet, and pulled his dirk free from it's sheath. He had opened his mouth to utter a warcry when things really went sideways.

Crows, a swarm of them, burst from the side of the road, and William had instinctively half-raised his arm when he realised it wasn't towards him they were flying, but to the creature on the road before them. The crows moved like a single force, and the monster never stood a chance. In another life, William might have even felt pity, but his heart had long been hardened against the Soulless that crawled from the shadows. Whatever it had been in life, it had lost, and it deserved suffering. In an instant, there was a cut-off scream, and the crows were gone as quickly as they had appeared, disappearing into the sky above them. Where there had been one figure on the road, there were now two.

The girl was slight, and the shredded fabric that clung to her was more like something out of a classical painting than it was common day-wear. If it wasn't for the bloodied sword she held in one hand, and the bruises and cuts that covered her pale skin, William could have almost thought she was a dream. Her accent was thick, but the voice itself was almost song-like, and William realised he had been standing motionless, dirk clutched in one hand, staring at the girl. Quickly gathering himself, William lowered his own weapon, but only slightly, and found his voice. It was a strange question, but then again, this was far from a normal meeting.

"Scotland, m'lady, on the road between Annan and Gretna Green."

William hesitated, glancing around the road for a moment before turning his attention back to the woman standing over the corpse of a Soulless.

"We appreciate your intervention but... Where did you come from?"

Constantin's ramblings about the nature of things and the true origin of soulless seemed to have not have garnered much interest from Vlad, which was part of the course really, he realized. Still he believed it was an important question for the future ahead. Knowing their enemy was a good thing generally. This was how they defeated soulless, without that knowledge they couldn't really deal with them for good. Still this mystery was now filling his mind, the firewalker was going to have to check if people knew the answers. Maybe someone they would meet did or at least had a clue. Cause he was really curious about this now, were all soulless similar down to it? Sort of, but why? This one word, was now repeating in his head.

Suddenly he was pulled out of it at the mention of... pointy shoes? He looked in confusion over at Vlad and then at tiny Ludwig as he had just realized that was spoken aloud by the German now that the Bazhooli had brought his attention to it. Yeah this was a little bit weird, but then listened patiently at Ludwig's explanation. If that was an explanation, it was, but he didn't quite understand much of it. Something about a Ulrich person who had the pointy shoes and was apparently really big fan of those types of shoes. Constantin was about to ask about the Ulrich person, but decided that he probably shouldn't right now, the German already seemed to have too much questions on his head already.

"Alright, I'm leaving you to your search nov." He said and decided that he probably shouldn't overwork the Ludwigman with questions right now. He still had to lead them forward to their destination and leave him to finish his current search before making him search for other stuff too.

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"Oh, I see the source of my misunderstanding. Thank you," Virginia said politely, though her spirits had fallen slightly. She had assumed that in his travels, Ny had encountered him in India or that he somehow knew such things inside of the book. Yet given his explanation of how those with the abilities of India did not travel far, she understood his logical leap that her father must have been there. Virginia wished that it was how she assumed - that she could know of her mother's welfare but the Lady Dywell was strong. She knew that her mother would not go down easily. And if her father had survived, she felt it was safe to assume that her mother had as well.

Her thoughts drifted towards her childhood as the carriage continued to journey down the road to Gretna Green. She had been a little devil, as nearly all Crypt children were. She recalled once out in the countryside when her father came home with a hearse for the day and they had made figure 666's all around. It was one of her happiest memories and she wished that James would be able to have something similar. The Russian Circus seemed the closest place to a Crypt upbringing that she could attain for him, and it would have the added benefit of ensuring that he would be trained. Yet she glanced back outside the window of the carriage, the train of thought coming to an end as she wondered what she would find at Gretna Green.

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Maeve nodded, absorbing the information that Lady Kirkpatrick told her. She had to wonder who the other enemy was then, if Millicent's husband to be was not the guilty party. Giving another nod, Maeve went off and fetched parchment and ink, having figured out where it was kept during her earlier assistance with Millicent. She returned and gave the requested items to the Lady Kirkpatrick, wondering what exactly she was about to do. She knew that from the sounds of it, her nephew was either going to be killed or disowned - with this woman, she had the feeling that the former was far more likely.

"If 'er fiance isn't de one ter watch for... Who is?" Maeve asked. Lady Kirkpatrick hadn't given her any indication so far that she would be kept in the dark when it came to any of this, so she didn't feel a need to hold back each question that crossed her mind. Besides, she was here to work for her. Knowing the Lady Kirkpatrick's enemies would allow her to better serve her and protect her interests. She wondered who the Gerard was that Millicent had mentioned in her letter - clearly someone that she imagined would give her aid and help, perhaps another member of the peerage? At any rate, her gut told her that Lady Kirkpatrick's approach to solving this problem would benefit Millicent in the end.

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The transaction complete (and easily done) she was provided a horse and equipment. The horse looked well enough, though it paled in comparison to her own. The equipment looked worn, but it was not like she was expecting the best for the modest price provided. Plus, she had a guide, she could not look a gift horse (ha!) in the mouth, as it were. “Good sir, you have been a true help to me. And have been most kind to a stranger. You do your country a credit.”

She turned to face her guide and looked him over. Seemed experienced enough, though he was not a decent looker and dressed poorly, but if he did the job well enough, she would be fine. “Thank you for offering sir, but I am versed in horse riding. I shall be fine.” With that said, settled and got on the horse, brushing the horse’s head with her hand. “We will become fast friends I bet. You appear strong and I appreciate that.” She made sure she had everything. When she was confident, she had, she faced the guide. “All right then sir. Let us be off.”

She rode easily enough following the man. Hopefully, the journey would be easy, and she would arrive. The trip would give her much needed planning as to what she would say and do.

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As their dutiful guide had not given them a change of direction in some time, Vladimir continued to push forward. It was a movement of great haste, but not that of stupidity; even a perfectly trained Brivaldi horse like Tolstoy(!) needed to slow as conditions called for it. Even so, the progress was pleasing to The Great Bazhooli. Or it might have been, had he full awareness of how far their destination was from them, taking the standard trade roads. He didn't let his sense of personal optimism be slowed in the least by nagging things like being unaware of the facts, however. They knew where they were going and at least one of them knew how to get there. The rest of it was the journey. He was good at journey.

Likewise, it seemed like there was progress on Ludwig's end, too. Not the discovery of whatever the thing which attacked Veta and the Circus, but the man was finally able to give a portion of a straight answer in regards to a direct question asked of him. Vlad felt a little proud of himself. The Pointy Shoes Man had a name. It was Ulrich. It wasn't exactly a full answer, but it was something. He counted it as a win and continued with the rigor of his travel. "Da. Da! Good, Ludvig. You make vith the study of enemy. Ve go thatvay. Just you tell vhen to turn." Indeed, this was the very spirit of adventure that Vladimir sought on a near constant basis. He only wished that more of his beloved Circus could be involved.