Winterlands Main Story December Winners PV Closed

Cade leaves compartment
Roll: 9

Cade saving throw (Agility)
Roll: 16

Cade went outside.

Elena casts Expelliarmus.
Cast: 15
Evasion: 20 Critical Success

Starlee has exited the train

Alan Vanes, Anastasia Beckett and Pierre have left the train

Rafael described already bleeding and making no attempt to avoid the glass, so he gets to bleed. he avoided the worst of it already anyways by not loving me enough to post.

Rafael is bleeding x2 -- 50 damage/round, already sustained 25 for the last 2 for already added injuries because the boy is a masochist.

Rafa: Avoid the other door.
DC: 20
Roll: 16

The door directly opposite of Rafa's temporary compartment was left open. As he dropped down, he would have to use his limber twenty-seven year old teenage body in such a way as to avoid a fall into the compartment below. It was somewhat impressive, the pretty boy had a modicum of skill that did not involve blatching after all. He would land near his best friend, her back to him as she was dealing with Pierre and trying to get him out of the train when Rafa landed. This might be one of those weird instances where the two were so close yet neither paid enough attention to take note of the other.

Wisdom Check -- Does Rafael notice Ana?
Roll: 6 + 9
Ana notice Rafael?
Roll: 12 + 9

Well, Rafael would not notice Ana, there were way too many blondes and from behind all girls just look alike with their thick, long flowing locks of hair. It was amazing he could find his best friend at all in this supermodel wizarding school. Ana would notice something familiar, it was likely the unusual hair color that Rafa had donned (per his avatar) that made the boy with such a pretty face a stand out. The hair color frankly did nothing for his overall look but nobody listens to the narrator.

Rafael would not follow Ana out the gaping hole left by Meenauh, he would find his own escape through the rear of the caboose. Where Galton was standing and shouting about his light until Jacob had knocked him off moments before Rafa's descent. Out the rear of the train, he would see Opeila leaning on Griseldis' shoulder. She looked cold and she was covered in blood, none of it was hers. it also looked as if an inkwell had been spilled onto her. An irate bird in a twisted cage lay on its side not far from either of them and he would see Hugh Lowe's massive backside as he carried an unseen burden towards a well-dressed older gentleman and the backside of Jackson. It looked like someone had set Jackson's clothes on fire while he was resting.

What a strange scene to come upon.

Outside

@Jackson Valentine was standing before a much taller, well-dressed older man. He dressed in a way that would be seen as odd, perhaps "old fashioned" to muggles. Yet the garments he wore were clean, neat and most importantly new. Jackson, on the other hand was worse for the wear. His clothes singed black, his body damaged and the boy nearly collapsed before the aged wizard.

The sense that Jackson would feel is far-removed from love or even passion, it was something else. Something more primal. Something more powerful. A terrifying but not terrible experience, how strength removed from beauty was power. For a brief moment Jackson would understand why wizards go to the lengths that they do. Respite would become overwhelming as his cup was overfilled. Hard to breathe, too heavy to stand, an immense weight would cause Jackson's knees to buckle but he would not fall. "You will be fine, my blood is better than most" he assured the Gryffindor with a casual confidence that was almost as unsettling as the name he called the boy.

"Thank you, Mister. . . Athanatos. You know that my name is Valentine?"

He nodded as he looked past Jackson, over his head. "What a mess," he mused out loud. "Would think a train..." He let out a sigh. It sounded like one of relief. "Thank Tyche my son listened to me for once..." Last thing he wanted or needed was to see his son in such a deplorable state.

"No one calls me that except my close friends. Have we met before?"

"No," Thaddeus answered with a single word failing to offer further on the subject. Rather he potentially unsettled the youth further by adding "seemed preferred to J--" he stopped himself. "The name," a thin smile "you rarely use."

He would take a step to the side, his eyes locked on the youths on the ground to the north of the train. He did not even notice the fallen boy, his son, in the company of a gaggle of Gryffindors. He saw a youth near the overturned train in the company of several concerned students -- @Marshall Mozor in the company of @Evelynn Decipio, @Meenauh Silmaturea, @Scarlet Aden and @Everly Charlton. The boy certainly did bring the crowds, getting crushed by a train does that. He could get a few miles with the sympathy card if he played it right, he just needed to first survive.

"Yes, he's alive. He's bleeding, though. I don't know any heali—"

Evelynn would start to say before Scarlett conjured bandages. They would stymie the bleeding, preventing further losses but there was not enough bandages that could cover his body to revive him. The bandages would cover the wounds and the deformities that a trained medic would have to later reconcile. He should be thankful that he was not a muggle, young Marshall would be spending the rest of his youth in a wheelchair.

"Do you know any spells to help heal broken bones?"

Splint his shattered limb. What they could not repair, they could at least hold in place. Things did not need to get any worse. Meenauh would not be able to assess the extent of his damages, Marshall was already mummified.

"Or does anyone have any bruise paste on them?" Evelynn would ask.

"I only know Ferula, and I definitely don't have bruise paste on me. Um..."

Scarlett would answer. Not that they would be able to use it any longer as a thick layer of clean, white bandages wrapped around the boy. Evelynn was not able to offer much, a terrible, hopeless, helpless revelation. She would leave Marshall on the icy floor, she was going to get help [To Thaddeus/Vladimir].

"Third-year girl who blew a hole in the train," despite the gravity of the situation Scarlett still found time and the need to snark at the duelist. "Do you know any healing spells?"

Of course Meenauh did, knowing spells was necessary in her particular field of academia - dueling. She knew about as much as a girl of her year could, making her in a way extraordinary, yet this situation was far from ordinary. Meenauh would not go anywhere, abandoning the boy to further mummification or leaving the girl to her attitude. Meenauh had just the thing. Or so she hoped. "Episkey,"

Meenauh casts Episky.
Roll 7

Hot and cold, sensations that Marshall would not realize would flood his body. His form too broken for such a rudimentary charm to heal him fully, it did something worse. It revived him in the throes of anguish.

Marshall has been revived

His leg was still shattered, blood had pooled within his swollen limb that was bound tightly with bandages. His body was cut, bruised and abraded from the fall. The sweet respite of unconsciousness was preferable, it was bearable.

"Ferula!"

Scarlett casts Ferula.
Roll: 4

Not that he could scream. Scarlett cast the bandaging spell once again, adding another layer of bandages to the fallen and battered boy. These bandages did not go on as well as they could have or they should have. The mummification process was something that was supposed to transpire long after someone was dead but not in poor Marshall's case.

Actual picture of Marshall.

Marshall has been rebandaged but is now bound.

"Sir!"

Evelynn would try to summon the old man's attention. Only, someone else would get there first. There was a large child part-giant, @Hugh Lowe bounding about making the rest of the teens look like preschool students. It would not be until he saw what Hugh had taken from the ground, a flaccid youth that would cause the old man's gut to drop.

Indeed, he had taken Vladimir from Opeila. Not that there was anything that the girl could have done to stop him. Hugh was bigger, stronger and if he wanted entirely capable of taking the Ravenclaw from the Slytherin by force, not that he was the type to do so but appearances can be deceiving and often were.

@Opeila Winters was facing death, a concept that she was just starting to grasp. Vladimir was bleeding out, not getting better with the shake of a wand. It was a familiar picture honestly, she had seen this before when she watched Victor die. There was nothing anyone could do then either. His injuries too great, his black blood... just wrong. Yes, the same black blood that drained from Vladimir also. A familiar sense of uselessness and futility. The universe (well the dice) had decided F that guy in particular as Borvo's cage hit him in the face adding further insult to injury. Vladimir did not flinch, he did not move but a dark mark would form where the corner of the cage had hit the angle of his cheek.

Hugh Lowe was strong, something that would be readily apparent as his large hands scooped the boy up. [No roll for lift due to race] Part-giants did not than stand out, they were a powerful contrast to many of the wizards in Hogwarts. They were indeed capable casters but more than that, they never lost their physical capacity. Less dependent on wands, more durable, physically powerful.

In his wake, a bloodstain. A terrible scent, one that the girl would not know. That none of them would know, not of metal or copper. Not of wool, or flesh or human scent. It was... old. [Note for later: Gris, Hugh and Opeila have encountered a unique scent.] The scent would disperse quickly as the air diluted the pungent assault on their nares.

@Galton Lansdale would scamper, the strange elf or humanoid magical creature that Galton was, over to Opeila. A smooshed sherbet lemon in hand, sugar always made the Candy King feel better but it might not be enough for Opeila. He did not grasp the gravity of this situation, not that he ever did despite his own near-death experience. Did he even recognize the boy that Hugh was carrying, the same boy that had given Galton those candies that had changed his life and granted him the moniker -- Candy King. The dangerous, toxic relationship he always had with those confectionaries. A mystery he could never be bothered to solve.

Not that it mattered, to find an answer an answer had to be sought and none was sought. he would urge the girl to follow him, to move out of the cold although his words sounded less intelligent and more... trusting. "Let's go with Hugh and the boy. It's gonna be fine... Candy and Hugh make everything better."

The limo-plane was not far past a terrible scene that would unfold. Once that Galton and Opeila might possibly walk on past. If they did, they would be near Xailah and her chonky cat. The stairs down, the door open. The interior welcoming but in a state of utter excess. Galton might see it, the sugar-coated, fruity confectionaries that sat on an end table. Black Currant candies.

@Xailah Alptraum would take notice of the mid-life crisis vehicle. The (former?) kleptomaniac should have been enthralled at the shiny, but the excess that was the craft that had come to deliver them. She would eye the quill that wrote, yes... his legacy in script. Schrödinger, the real hero of this story would see dancing lights. Yes the sort that one less rotund than he would wish to chase. Soft, plush, leather seating. The sort one could curl up in and take a nap had he not been so comfortable where he was.

Galton (possibly in the company of Opeila and Gris) were not the only one headed towards the craft, @Raine Sage was doing what she could to rescue AJ. The boy might have frozen to death where he had laid had it not been for Raine, as he unconscious form was laid on his jacket and he was dragged through the ice and snow. Raine was not a particularly powerful little girl in terms of physical prowess but she was stubborn and that would more than make up for other areas in which she might have lacked.

Rain drags AJ.
Roll: 11

It was hard work, but she could feel accomplished in the fact that she had done it on her own. AJ was beaten up pretty badly also, having fallen from a train in a display of acrobatics gone terribly wrong along with a string of other bad-luck occurrences. She would see it too, the wealth and the privilege of the older man. Coincidences were often dangerous but in moments such as this beggars could not be choosers. This plane represented warmth, a means of transit and most importantly medical aide.

Speaking of medical aide... Vladimir was mangled, barely recognizable in Hugh's arms. The boy was heavier than expected, wearing a blood-soaked coat that was several sizes too small. An agglomeration of bandages, all soaked in both black and crimson. His arm bent the wrong way, his blonde hair matted with blood. He was not moving, he looked like he had been beaten and then thrust from a moving train. All true.

Thaddeus' hands shook, his pale eyes widened. A scene a parent never wants to see. The first is always denial. "No," followed by more denial. "No-no-no-no!"

"Please, sir. Please, there's another as well... Over there," it sounded as if she was under water or very far away. "He's in rather rough shape. He won't wake up—" Like a drum, the pounding...bounding heart. Deafening. "—and he's bleeding and covered in bruises and he's...he's very pale. Please, sir...can you help him?" The newly resurrected Marshall Mozor that is.

"Blood, cursed blood!" He exclaimed as he look up at Hugh. His brow furrowed, his tone irate. Whatever calm presence and civil, mildly concerned demeanor he carried was abandoned. "For the love of Asklepios, give him to me," he demanded as he pulled off the glove of his still covered hand with with teeth. The fine piece of satin-like cloth on the ground next to his feet.

This was panic, a parent's worst fear. An unfathomable loss. Confusion, rage and regret. A want to blame, to lash out but a sense of desperation would override it all. The ring about his right ring finger would spin about and slice open his thumb yet again... no the palm of his opposite. A hiss of pain the cut might have been deeper than intended. As always, haste makes waste and this was no exception. He did not wait for Hugh to 'hand him over' or even drop him onto the ground.

The life-fluid dripped into an open mouth, the expectation would be the same as it was for Valentine. That he would just get better. His blood was good, better than most. He was powerful. He was capable. He could fix whatever stupidity the boy had encountered, fix it, undo it, change it.

Black fog would escape from his mouth and the old man would visibly pale. The scent was the same, the same as the bloody patch that he left behind on the frozen grass. "...Rot," he announced. "Dolos," he muttered. "GeT iNtO tHe Plane, WE'RE LeAving!" He bellowed, a threat he meant as he shouted in the direction of the overturned train. He was not going to wait here, letting these kids meander about. Eventually the Ministry, another bored wizard or the school itself would send something to retrieve them in a few hours. They can come now or wait until later.

What Happened?

@Xailah Alptraum 900/1200 [outside] <Plane-limo>
@Piérre Marchonné 1/300 (bandaged) [outside]
@Everly Charlton 250/600 [outside]
@Calanthe Choi 750/1000 [inside]
@Katrina Walker 606/900 (bandaged) [inside]
@Griseldis Edelhardt 800/1000 (scent) [outside] <Plane-limo?>
@Alan Vanes 1000/1100 [outside]
@Alec Mason 400/600 [inside] <Post dude>
@Opeila Winters 310/600 (bandaged) (scent) [outside] <Plane-limo?>
@Vladimir Athanatos unconscious, displaced ulnar and radial fracture. upon being lifted a noted leg fracture with deformity. (Bandaged) (Black smoke pouring from his mouth) [outside] [death saving throw lost x1]
@Galton Lansdale 450/600 Maintaining Lumos. Found candy. [outside] <Plane-limo>
@Hugh Lowe 695/1000 carrying Vladimir (scent) [outside]
@Scarlett Aden 500/700 [outside]
@Jacob Harman 260/600 (bleeding -20 health/round) [outside]
@Allister-Jameson MacAllister 0/600 mummified, unconscious [outside] <Plane-limo>
@Anastasia Beckett 400/500 [inside]
@Rafael D'Spacito 1000/1000 [-100] (bleeding -25/round) [inside]
@Evelynn Decipio 700/700 [outside]
@Jackson Valentine 75/500 (healed) [outside]
@Raine Sage 800/800 [outside] <Plane-limo>
@Starlee Kennedy 150/400 [inside]

• Flutters [inside]
• Borvo [outside]

@Cade Darkbound 450/500 [outside]
@Elena Jangleton 550/900 (bandaged) [inside]
@Akari Kato 500/500 [inside] <Post dude>
@Calanthe Choi 800/1000 [inside]
@Meenauh Silmataurea 80/400 (bandaged) [inside]
@Marshal Mozor 0/600 broken/shattered ankle. (bandaged - mummified and therefore bound) (revived - conscious next round) [outside]

The actual train --

Trains move only in one direction, the school was not very far from the site of the incident. Well, Hogsmeade in any case. In the several minutes since the accident the conductor had been made aware and had reached out to Hogwarts, telling them of a 'terrible incident' and a 'potential accident' involving an unknown number of students. A count of the cars would reveal only the final car was effected, while 'not many' was a better answer than all it was ultimately 'too many.' The terrorist-incident was still an unknown for the Professors and staff at this time, the message was received in the headmaster's fireplace.

A response was in progress, one that was unseen by the children on the frozen field.

A papertrail of the IC reaction. The conductor has been made aware via NPC and/or the PCs that had seen what happened to the caboose. This has been reported to Hogwarts. The train is still moving and is to arrive in Hogsmeade in another 15 min. Not that it is known to the students but a response force would likely be arriving in the next 2 hours.

-----

"Good God," the old man muttered as he learned of the disaster on the Hogwarts Express. "I will be there shortly...." he let out a sigh. There was this numbness, this fear and this regret that filled him as he left his office, a quiet cool space that seemed more like a museum than a place of word. The other Heads of House had offices that were too far away for his taste, if only they were all adjacent this would be so much easier. It would have also been easier if he could simply apparate but neither was a viable option. He would bound down the stairs two at a time with a youthful vigor only adrenaline could give a man his appeared age.

Lear was seeking Nora and Caradoc, hoping Elaine was somewhere nearby becaus the tower stars were terrible to climb on his knees.

There was more darkness in the air than there had been before. Or maybe it was the same, just that his light finally illuminated it, bearing its terrible presence to reality. Which ever it was, he could sense a swift change in the air. And it stretched from the scene he had just passed. Cries like no other filled his ears, making him steal a glace backwards, back to his friend. But they really just drove him deeper in to the warm light of the limo. The charade of heroism he'd kept in his head was falling, his large ego not quite able to cope with the severity of all this. So he'd leave the wailing man, bloodied boy and familiar friend behind, in the darkness. Down he went.

As he entered he could hear the alarming call of the sad man. An urgent message. And just like so many times before, Galton's focus would be drawn away from the words around him and letting them go nigh unnoticed. The limo's interior was too loud for anything else. It was really unlike anything he'd seen before. It was like something out of the fanciest designer robe advert you could possibly imagine. And then his eyes narrowed in on the true treasure of this dragon's hoard.

Galton was a good, polite boy, he really was. Or at least he tried to be. And he would certainly never be so presumptuous as to get in a strange man's vehicle and then take unoffered candy from him... But, this was almost written for him. The set-up was perfect. Lure the child into the nice warm interior and then dangle a bowl filled with candy in front of him. How could one not? The mental (and physical) stress of being in an explosion was surely defense enough to sneak a few cookies candies from the cookie jar candy bowl.

And so, consistent with every move Galton has ever made, and every expectation, Galton would move to the bowl of black goodies. Eyes filled with lust as he dipped a grubby hand in and close it around the sweet sugary rocks before retracting it. Up and up he'd take them, to meet their salivating demise.

Woe is me, for I was not strong enough to resist!
Action: Eating some candies... duh

Graphic by Leonard Oaksworth

[font=Times New Roman]Interacting With: Self
Tags: @Evelynn Decipio, @Meenauh Silmataurea, @Scarlett Aden & @Everly Charlton

[font=Times New Roman]Stats/Abilities[/font]
Stamina | 6 | Evasion | 5 | Strength | 8 | Wisdom | 5 | Arcane Power | 5 | Accuracy | 6
Fearless

Within Marshal's Dream

"Do you suppose we'll be here forever?" Marshal wondered aloud, exploring the endless expanse of wispy, pink clouds with a lazy gaze. The question was directed at Self, who had become an actual being that could be seen through the eyes of a nutjob whose head had been thwacked just a smidgen too hard. Though Marshal was unsure of exactly when, at some point, the mirror image of himself had appeared at his side, assuming the same relaxed, lounging pose as its original source - a pose that rather defied the goings on of the reality around them. Life was good in the blissful dimension of pink, by comparison.
"Could be, could be not," Self responded indifferently. "At least it's peaceful here."
The comment drew a vexed glance from Marshal. "Peace and quiet is overrated. It doesn't leave much room for fun and adventure."
Self returned a disquieted glare and pushed up onto his elbows, though precisely what he pushed against was unclear, as the two of them lay upon an indistinct mass of pink. Two pairs of hazel eyes locked in discordance, making Marshal feel as though he was staring into a mirror, which, for all intents and purposes, was true. And yet, something seemed off about this reflection. The eyes looked darker, and almost hollow.
"And what of death?" Self intoned, a slight trace of fear in his voice. "Do you look upon it so carelessly? Even after what you've witnessed?"
Understanding struck, and Marshal's steady gaze wavered, shying away from the solemn reflection, as his heart wished to recoil from the question.
"That's all the more reason to live life to its fullest. How can I honor her life if I simply allow mine to waste away?" The words left his mouth, but without the confidence that normally accompanied his every action, leaving them frail and baseless. His voice was swallowed up by the void around him, the harmless, wispy clouds taking a form more closely resembling a dense fog. Without his realization, the soft, pink coloration had morphed into a sinister scarlet, engulfing him in its cold embrace, causing him to shiver. Suddenly, he could feel the cold again.
Attempting to raise a hand before his face, he found that he could not move. Eyes drawn back to Self, all he could do was stare into his reflection, the reflection that he'd never wanted to see.
"How can you honor her life with your own if you lose it just as quickly as she did?" His voice was growing louder, almost panicked, as the dark fog whirled around him like a grisly stage effect. "Don't you see? Can't you feel it? You're dying, and you're helpless to do anything about it." The reflection was basically hyperventilating now, dark eyes drifting to a distant space, their focus clearly blurred. "Your friends are probably dying as well, and there's no way for you to help them, either. You're going to leave them to fend for themselves, just like Fawn left you. Can't you understand how fragile a life is? How quickly it can be snuffed out?"

Marshal didn't know what was happening. As long as he could remember, nothing could unnerve him. Awkward social interactions, haunted houses, leaving his home and his family for an entirely new experience. None of it had ever phased him. None of it had filled him with the uncertainty and fear that was now trickling into his chest, the fog like a palpable manifestation of anxiety that attacked his lungs. None of it, of course, except for the revelation that his best friend was dying. It seemed so long in the past, yet he was now reminded of the cold that had ensnared his heart on that fateful day.
Even then, the boy had always imagined the flame that was his life to be a roaring bonfire, impervious even to the rainfall. But in this moment, it seemed more like the flickering light of a candle, vulnerable to the smallest breeze.
"A candle must be shielded from the wind," Self continued somberly. "So shield your own, and shield theirs, if they hold any value to you."
Marshal couldn't reply; the fog felt thick in his throat, rendering him unable to speak, unable to breathe. He felt himself drifting away, vision fading to black, though the dark reflection still remained, watching him with that anxious gaze.
Just as his own eyes were about to close, however, a new voice reverberated about his consciousness. "Episkey!"
Without warning, Self shattered like glass, and the fog disappeared.

Marshal has been Revived

The first moments after he snapped back into consciousness would fall just short of being the best of his life, missing the top of the list by mere light-years.
The initial sensation he experienced was one of pain. But not just any pain; no, not all. Prior to this day, he had considered a stubbed toe to be one of the worst shades of pain that a human being could feel, and would curse every sharp corner that assaulted the small appendages on his foot to rot in hell.
Following this rather enlightening incident, however, he may just choose to find the most jagged rock on the castle grounds and kick it as hard as he could, if only to feel an amount of physical anguish that was, in effect, a mouse in comparison to elephant that embodied the agony he currently felt.
In light of such a thing, the young boy would have very much appreciated the ability to scream bloody murder, though apparently, even that privilege had been stolen from him.
As he attempted to release his exact thoughts on the subject, he found that his mouth couldn't be opened, resulting in a muffled sound that was altogether different than what he had imagined.
"MMMMMMPPHHHHH!!" would be heard clearly throughout the area. Any who deemed it necessary to turn their head in an effort to determine what in the actual name of Mike the ungodly sound was, would be met with the unsettling scene of a mummy, all too literally having been brought back from the dead to thrash and wiggle in claustrophobic paranoia.
Of course, his thrashing elicited brand new jolts of unbearable pain, echoing from his leg and throughout his entire body. In turn, fresh cries of pure agony were torn from his very soul, assuring well-wishers that their wishes were in vain.

Fortunately for him, however, the pain would soon fade into insignificance as he discovered that he couldn't move an inch. Legs bound together, arms strapped to his sides, as though he were imitating a torpedo, it was then that he remembered one other thing that had always caused him anxiety: tight spaces.
Panic overwhelmed pain, overtaking his mind and effectively throwing any sense of logic or intelligent thought out the window. Instead, he was reduced to his most base instinct, an instinct to survive, an instinct to get out.
Driven by that, he continued to thrash about with all his might, and was rewarded for his efforts by successfully rolling onto his stomach.
Good luck calming him down, ladies.

[font=Times New Roman]Action:
Waking up and experiencing the best darn day a guy could ask for.
Attempting to break free of his bondage.

Katrina was exasperated and growing increasingly more tired. No one was listening to her and nothing she was doing was helping. She looked down at Piérre’s body, this couldn’t be it, could it? The students wasting away in the cold with no one coming to save them for hours? How many students could they loose? And all Katrina could do was watch and try to give her input here and there that wasn’t even heard anyway. Defeat washed over her. She really couldn’t save them all, could she?

Just as Katrina was about to turn away, she saw Piérre gasp. The wet burn of tears in Katrina’s eyes was instant. He mumbled something and Katrina was silent, trying to make out what he was saying. He made a motion to turn over and the pain that clearly caused him seemed to drag him out of his half awake state.

Piérre asked if Katrina was okay and she nodded, “I’ll be alright, we all will,” Her words were certain. None of the doubt she was feeling was expressed in her words. People were answering Piérre’s questions and as much as Katrina wanted to fill him in on everything, she let the rest of them paint the story. She looked him up and down, taking note of any injuries, they could treat things now that he was awake. And his language patterns were shifting, she assumed to Italian seeing as that is what he sometimes switched to. He assured them he was fine but Katrina didn’t take that for a moment, even if he thought he was, Katrina knew better.

In one moment, Piérre was assuring them he was fine, and the next he was throwing himself onto them. Katrina realized it was a hug, a desperate embrace. She held tight, making sure that he wasn’t going to collapse entirely, but also giving one of her closer friends as much aid as she could. “I was so scared for you,” Katrina murmured to Piérre with as much whole hearted emotion as she could. Relief. Pain. Worry. It all came out. Piérre tried to convince them all to leave, but Katrina knew she wasn’t going to. Not until she knew for certain that he was going to be okay.

Alan and Anastasia began to help Piérre out of the train. Katrina bit back angry retorts. Cold is bad. Cold out there. Instead she stayed behind, knowing her meager strength wasn’t enough to do much. Besides, this was the worst time to get into an argument with Anastasia. Nonetheless, Katrina followed behind. Her intent was still clear. Protect as many people as possible. That’s when she heard something, a voice, not a voice of a child. A voice of an adult. “You guys, there’s an adult here!” Katrina tried to get a better look, this might just be the moment they all got saved.

TLTR; Emotional that Piérre's awake. Hug Piérre. Follow group outside. Hear limo-dude's voice. Stick with group.

For Moderation:

Reducio

Action: Do anything to protect the group around her and mainly Piérre-- this includes jumping in front of any attack to take the hit, stay with Anastasia, Alan, and Piérre (hopefully convince them to get into the plane-limo)

Abilities: Perfectionist [Crit-Fail Zone reduced by 1] | Healing Sage [+25% on all magical healing] | Charmer [-1 acc for all opponents]

Stats: Stamina 9 | Evasion 8 | Strength 3 | Wisdom 11 | Arcane Power 9 | Accuracy 5

Interacting With: @Piérre Marchonné

Mentioning: @Alan Vanes @Calanthe Choi @Anastasia Beckett

Open to Interactions: Sort of? Just like, know Kat isn't really going to stop and have a conversation if you know what I mean

@Vladimir Athentos, @Ana Beckett, @Alan Vanes, @Thaddeus Athentos
Everyone in the Vicinity of Vlad

Piérre couldn’t say that he wasn’t in pain, he most certainly was, but the combined chill of the world around him and his own desire to hide the physical pain just as he would his emotional, kept it compartmentalized just enough to let him share his smile and maintain his comedic exterior. Ana made a joke about the train being unsatisfied with its vocation in life, and Piérre laughed brightly. “Hey, if I was carrying around people without respite back and forth for a living without seeing anything new my entire life, I’d get bored too. I’d be strong enough to become an acrobat and do the same.” A jest. “I don’t blame the poor caboose. They always end up getting shoved in the back.”

Despite Piérre’s earlier complaints about being alright with being left behind, he let himself be supported and taken outside, still trying his best to regain control of his shaking knees and weak legs. It was adrenaline shock, as far as the boy knew, and bandaged up and magically healed as much as he could be, he was feeling... moderately okay. Moderately. Certainly better than others, like an unfortunate bandaged mummy looking thing attested to and another fellow bleeding with a broken ankle.

A tiny black-tipped tail, a pair of bright emerald eyes, and dappled fur was what came bounding up to the wounded Piérre, and with a gasp, Piérre briefly tried to wiggle himself out the the holds of Alan and Ana in order to stoop down to his little Figaro. It was more of a disgraceful fall to his knees, and accompanied with a sharp pain of pins and needles, but Piérre held out his arms to his once lost kitten. “Figgy!” He cried, grabbing the nearly one year old cat and hugging it close. The bengal, quite used to the boy’s more childish ways of playing with him, only purred quietly and kneaded claws and paws into Piérre’s shoulders.

But the embrace lasted shortly, as the boy kept a lookout around him. In case some other misfortune befell the unfortunate straggling Gryffindors. They were beaten and battered, but still moving. Movement which stuck out against white snow and attracted Piérre’s eyes towards a ph awe-inspiring limo, the shouting of an older looking man and a small crowd surrounding a body. Squinting a bit, Piérre tried to fight against the cold and his weary state, trying to divine if there was something out of the ordinary, something that his Keen Eyes sometimes had a tendency to do.

“Something’s going on over there.” Piérre pointed towards the commotion, forcing his feet below him again and standing, knees knocked against one another to help him balance a bit better. Figaro was held against his chest, the small critter purring like a motorboat as the black tipped tail flicked back and forth. “C-can we go over there? M-maybe someone over there needs help too?” Piérre stammered a bit, not quite sure exactly how he wanted to approach the situation. He glanced at Ana and Alan. “Should we?”

He took a step towards it, stopped, then made up his mind and started forward again, one foot in front of the other. Making tracks, making a path towards the limo which seemed to be attracting a lot of attention.

Action: Making Tracks Towards Limo
Tries to use ‘Keen Eye’ to spot Vlad’s... issues?

Stats:
Stamina 3, Strength 3, Evasion 10
Wisdom 10, Accuracy 10, ArcPower 5

Keen Eye
25% chance to notice something

Calming Presence
All the people in the Murder thread (Including Vlad)

She hadn't really expected it to work with the Gryffindor's rational thought going out the window but it seemed even in the most chaotic situations, things didn't always go according to plan. Like today, Elena had been imagining a nice, comfy ride to Hogwarts nose-deep in her word search which was probably torn or ripped somewhere. The brunette had not imagined that their train car would be boarded by a bunch of bandits with a terrible sense of clothing lusting after their wands and to add insult to injury, those thieves were also the prime suspects in why Flutters was currently voicing his discontent, in summary, they were pretty much responsible for all of the events leading up to this current moment unless of course you counted the Slytherin girl who was quite adamant she had been doing anything but harming her little barn owl. The brunette didn't reply staring at the broken window and back at the second empty cage as if trying to put the pieces together before tilting her head to look back at the girl. "Rescue?" She asked blinking a few times as the other female departed the compartment presumably off to search for her own pet who by the look of things had not met a kind fate if the empty cage and window were any evidence.

She, however had Flutters. He was safe, he was with her and that was all that mattered. "You're alright, you're alright, come here, bud." Snapping open the lock on the domed cage, the owl couldn't have been any more relieved to breath in the free air as the bird flew forward depositing himself onto her shoulder, his beak nuzzling into her hair as she ran a hand over his head letting out a sigh of relief. "You're safe now. Let's get out of here, yeah?" The third year had what she had come from and now it was probably better she make her exit swiftly as well before the ohter realization came to her. The others were still out there, she had left that boy there and a feeling of guilt began to wash over her. Flutters was important too however, the girl was trying to justify her actions to herself as she made her way to the broken window which in this instance would serve as an exitway out of this blasted train car which looked like anything but that. "Alright, you first."

Heeding the encouraging urgency in her voice, the owl flew forward a few feet landing awkwardly a bit in the snow but mananging to stay upright. She had not failed to notice his disorted flying making a mental note to take him to the hospital wing once they got there. Well, if they got there because so far, all they had was a old man with some sort of flying contraption which in Elena Jangleton's humble opinion was not going to be much help in this situation. Doing her best not to get her clothes or herself snagged by any of the sharp glass shards that remained, the girl navigated her way through the window carefully lifting herself up through the broken window, her teeth clenched in concentration trying to work around any of the sharp glass that remained. It wasn't helped by the fact that train had been upended that made this task a lot more difficult.

If Elena mangaged to get past that rather minor obstacle, one hand would drift downwards to extend towards Flutters to allow him to hop back onto his perch which was her shoulder. That was the important thing, he kept her calm, reassured her and all the panic and feeling of impending doom Elena had been feeling declined a little knowing she had her number one important thing with her. That didn't mean they were out of the woods yet though as she glanced around at the sky, at the milling crowd of students who only seemed to accumlate in number as more people piled out of the train. Just how many students were on this thing? More importantly, surely someone somewhere would have noticed something was up if the Express hadn't come by now, help had to be on the way. "We'll be okay, right, Flutters?" She said turning to glance at him and in response, he only blinked his yellow eyes.

Well, that was good enough for her.

@Evelynn Decipio @Everly Charlton @Meenauh Simataurea @Thaddeus Athanatos @Marshal Mozor

banner by sylvain wyllt

The Girl-Who-Had-Blown-A-Hole-In-The-Train as Scarlett would refer to her forevermore, made the situation worse - again! Scarlett's Bandaging Charm had worked as per usual, and it was good news that the Girl-Who-Had-Blown-A-Hole-In-The-Train's spell had worked as well, because Marshal shuddered back into consciousness. But it was also bad news that the Girl-Who-Had-Blown-A-Hole-In-The-Train's spell, because of the same reason. Marshal awoke rather dramatically, thrashing about in his bandages and screaming loudly if not muffled...ly? But anyway, it wasn't a pretty sight. To an outsider, it would've looked like a mummy had risen from the dead and now was attempting to get out of the bandages it had been buried it.

Marshal was very obviously in pain - hell, a train had crushed his leg. "Shit," cursed Scarlett as she realised this. At least when he had been unconscious, the pain would've melted away. But now he was in a cold hard reality with crushed bones and more. Wonderful. The only way to calm him down and stop his suffering until they could find help was to knock him out. The question was - how?

"Does anyone know how to knock someone out?" yelled Scarlett to the rest of the wreck, who were slowly regrouping and making their way towards the 'limo'. Scarlett wouldn't go, at least until Marshal was on. Sure they had met just once, but you don't leave a man, woman or non-binary friend behind. Also, she wouldn't trust the man so easily, unless he could get Marshal safely onto the train. "Oh screw it, I'll do it myself."

Wincing, Scarlett raised her wand. "Sorry dude, but I think this is good?" she said, as a bit of a warning before waving her wand and saying, "Flipendo!"

She cast a glance at Decipio. Had she not gotten the man to help yet?

action flipendo marshal to knock him out
stats stamina 7 | evasion 6 | accuracy 7 | strength 6 | wisdom 6 | arcane power 9
abilities prodigal charms learner, fearless

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Interacting With: @Piérre Marchonné | @Alan Vanes | @Rafael D'Spacito
Mentioning: Marshal
In the area of: Anyone outside the train?
Open to interactions!
Hex Color: #FF4080
The 'fit
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For Moderation:

Action: Find her cat, try to get Piérre into the limo-mobile-mid-life-crisis thing, try to find Rafa (again? If she's still got eyes on him from spotting him last round, then try to get his attention)
Health: 400/500
Abilities: Lovely Creature | Fearless | Terrible Presence
Stats: Stamina 5 | Evasion 10 | Strength 5 | Wisdom 9 | Arcane Power 10 | Accuracy 7

As Ana and company exited the train, Ana's stomach turned at the scene outside. As her adrenaline was beginning to subside, pain and soreness all over her body demanded attention. Her ribs twinged, in a feeling all too reminiscent of when she'd broken them in the spring. They didn't hurt as badly this time, so she was hopeful that they were just bruised. As they walked, she attempted to somewhat assess her injuries. She was sore all over (being tossed like a salad tends to do that to ya), but the only other place that stood out to her was her head, which she'd definitely hit.

Piérre distracted her as he seemed to wiggle free and fall, or just fall, she wasn't sure which. At the sight of Piérre's kitten, her thoughts flashed to Jasmine. Another glance around the train car proved more fruitful. Jasmine had latched onto some piece of luggage or another and was gingerly mincing over the mountains of bags. "There you are, Jasmine, come on," Ana said at the sight of her pet. The normally contrary feline was evidently in an amicable mood, or she was just too shaken to object. In any event, she followed the blonde closely, tail and ears alert. Bending, she took Piérre's arm to help him up again. "Piérre, I mean this in the most amicable way possible, don't you dare do that again. You barely got conscious and I refuse to allow you to get further injured."

She could have sworn she caught a glimpse of Rafa, and another wave of guilt threatened to drown her. Still, Piérre was in far worse shape, so her focus was back on him. Leaving Piérre still wasn't an option, but her concern for the Quidditch captain was growing by the second. The scene before her did nothing to assuage her panic. There was someone, it looked like Marshal, who was mummified in bandages. While there was always the possibility that her housemates had been stupid and overzealous in their efforts to help, that level of attempted aid was highly concerning, to say the least. Ana's pessimistic nature and overactive imagination painted pictures that terrified her.

And of course, those pictures brought her thoughts back to her friend. Rafa had to be okay, right? If she'd really seen him, then he was in good enough condition to move and wasn't dying or anything, right?

She heard a man shouting, saying that he was leaving, and made a quick decision. "Is he trying to help? Maybe we should try and get Piérre into, um, whatever that is," Ana said, with a glance at Alan. While she was fairly confident she could wait for whatever help might come from Hogwarts in a few minutes or hours once they noticed the missing train car, she couldn't say the same for the Gryffindor Keeper.

As she moved closer to whatever the vehicle might be, she scanned the group for Rafa. The chaos was terrifying and hard as Ana tried, her panic was growing. This wasn't supposed to happen. She was supposed to be close to arriving at school, complaining about the lack of coffee on the train. As she processed what was happening, her fear grew and it seemed like ice and needles were filling her veins.

Pausing for a moment to adjust Piérre's arm to a more secure position, she swallowed hard. "Rafa?" she called as she scanned the group, voice more hoarse than she would have liked.

Action: trying to make students avoid boarding the plane-limo