Winterlands Main Story December Winners PV Closed

Interacting with: @Cade Darkbound

Akari hesitated for a couple of moments after the boy who had helped her had somehow managed to exit the train compartment... she should probably do the same, no? But she was so scared. So much so that she felt frozen to her spot.

She leaned over slightly to try to get a view of what was going on outside, past the window, wondering if it was safer and if they were doing better out yonder but unfortunately she couldn’t quite tell, and she still had a small inkling that something wasn’t right, and that the chaos had not yet subsided.

She trembled slightly as she then looked down at her Kenji hoping he wasn’t has as scared as she was and then snuggled him a little bit tighter into her arms then whispered quietly to him with a small sigh What have we gotten ourselves into?”

She then took a deep breath and after what felt like ages finally decided that she need to try her best to gather herself together and get on out to where most of the people were and to see what on earth was happening.

So, she attempted to scurry on out of the train after that boy.

Interactions/mentions: @Galton Lansdale, @Meenauh Silmataurea & @Evelynn Decipio

Hugh's brow would furrow at the man's raised voice. His reaction was significantly different to how he had been behaving previously. There seemed to be an attachment to Vlad somehow. The part-giant's face grimaced in disgust as the same scent of rot filled his nostrils, the same with Vlad earlier. "What did you just do?" He hissed in a hushed voice. "That does not look... normal... sir." His voice began to growl under his breath. Hugh didn't trust anyone easily and certainly not some voodoo blood mage dressed like an aristocrat.

Not soon after, Hugh would see Galton enter the vehicle from the corner of his eye. There was no protest from him. After all, this did seem to be their only way out. Unless they all planned to wait for the folks from school to come pick them up. Something seemed to be happening that Hugh was not sure of. As if he felt the world shifting under his feet. His ears picked up the sound of a girl's voice. "What did you say?" The part-giant's voice whispered more to himself than to the girl that was standing too far from him to hear. She was right though. The old man had performed something... weird or scary even. "SCAR? The rebel group?" His head snapped back to the old man. Hugh was unsure what to do. Though it felt like he was supposed to do something.

The part-giant shifted his attention to the person to his side. He knew nothing of Evelynn other than their interactions on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, but in this moment, she was the only one that might hold the answer to his next action. Taking a step back with Vlad's body still in his arms, Hugh partly shielded the boy from his the old man's gaze. "How did you know to come here?" His furrowed gaze did not break contact with the old man's.

Interacting with @Opeila Winters, @Griseldis Edelhardt, everyone outside the train

While it seemed that Elena's spell had gone off without a hitch, Starlee easily maneuvered herself out of the way so that she wasn't hit. Perhaps it was the adrenaline rush from everything that had gone on thus far, or just some pure luck, but she still managed to hold onto her wand. Perhaps she couldn't cast her own spells well, but at least she could dodge them. That had to count for something.

Starlee exited through the large hole that the Gryffindor girl had blasted open. Perhaps maybe she did have a decent idea? Well, she could have at least warned everyone before she decided to blast the hole open. In any case, it was certainly useful to Starlee now. As she exited the train, she saw a gathering of students surrounding what looked like... no... a dead student??? She observed for a moment longer, realizing she could see a wiggling mummified body, and it appeared that the group had him... well... 'taken care of'. Starlee would have normally been all over the ensuing drama, but she had her own matters to attend to. She walked further out from the train, circling as she did so, to try and see if she could spot Borvo. Nothing in sight yet, so she had to assume he had landed somewhere else.

"Did anyone see an owl... uh... shoot out from the window of the train?" she yelled, as she began to make her way around to the other side of the train. It was then that she saw it. A cage on the ground, a strange black color on the nearby snow, and two girls, one of whom she recognized somewhat from dueling practices.

She ran up to the pair, and then looked down at the somewhat battered birdcage next to them. It had a huge dent in it now, almost as if it had hit a rock? She leaned down to Borvo, who simply hooted at her as if he was scared for his life (which, to be fair, he certainly was) and said "Oh Borvo... are you okay? I'm so sorry... I... I don't know what happened..." She lifted up her owls cage, trying unsuccessfully to calm him down, and proceeded to talk to the two girls. "What happened? There's this strange black stuff on the snow..." She took a closer look at the two, one of which showed real panic. "Hey... Is everything okay here?"

She took a moment to see where the girls where looking when she spotted the large limo-plane. Starlee was a half-blood with a muggle mother who despised floo powder, so airplane travel it was whenever they went to visit her grandpappy back in the States. However, this airplane wasn't like any commercial plane she had ever been on. It was like one of those ones you see fancy people in on the telly. "Is that our ride back to the castle?" she asked, wondering how someone could get there so quickly.

Action: Running to the opposite side of the train to retrieve her owl, ask a million questions

For Moderation:
Stamina: 4 - Evasion: 5 - Strength: 6 - Wisdom: 8 - Arcane: 6 - Accuracy: 5
Abilities: Healing Sage
Health: 150/400

Interacting with @Opeila Winters
@Galton Lansdale @Starlee Kennedy
Mentioning @Hugh Lowe @Vladimir Athanatos

Following Hugh from behind while holding Opeila's hand gently, another familiar Gryffindor who seemed to know Hugh suddenly walked up to them. It took a while for Griseldis to finally recognize who the boy was. Someone she certainly wouldn't forget that easily, it was the "Candy King". That last encounter they had at the ball a year ago was unfortunately very unpleasant and the memory of it made her cringed slightly. But this time, the boy looked quite normal, and he even offered a candy to Opeila to make her feel better which was kind of sweet. Not sure if the "Candy King" would remember her since he was the one who...well, licked her eyeball when he was clearly enchanted by some weird charm that made him see every living person a candy.

"Erhm...yes, we'll follow Hugh...by the way, I'm not sure if you remember me...we once met at the ball last year. I'm Griseldis, you can call me Gris though, and this is Opeila." Griseldis didn't really want to bring up the details of what the boy did to her because it might turn out a bit awkward, then she also took this as an opportunity to introduce herself and Opeila. "It was really sweet of you to offer a candy to Opeila. I do agree that candy often helps make things better." She added and turned to look at the young girl. Hopefully the candy could cheer her up a little.

Griseldis noticed there was someone coming towards them, it was a Slytherin girl with pretty long blond hair who was holding an owl cage. The poor owl inside didn't look too well. So maybe it was a good thing that her own owl never liked to be in a cage. Before Griseldis could say something, she immediately became alerted by a very strong smell, she then witnessed a disturbing sight in front of her. There was black smoke pouring from the Ravenclaw's mouth. Why would he...? The blond girl's voice stopped Griseldis to think any further, and she asked them a lot of questions like what happened? What was the black stuff? If that was their ride to Hogwarts? "To be honest, I don't know what those black smoke are, but perhaps we can find out about it if we ask that man over there." She pointed at the middle-age gentleman. "Well, that man did announce that he would offer a ride for us...it wasn't like we have any choice here." Based on Opeila's reaction earlier, Griseldis did start to think that things are beginning to get ominous. For now, she could only try her best to stay vigilant for the time being.

Actions: Griseldis follows Hugh to enter the strange "Plane-limo".

Stamina: 10 | Evasion: 8 | Strength: 8 | Wisdom: 5 | Arcane Power: 7 | Accuracy: 9
Abilities: Fearless | Martial Artist | Evasive Maneuvers

Raine looked around the outside of the train-plane-limo thingy, noticing how long and shiny it was. She sighed in relief as she felt the warmth coming from inside hitting her face outside. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her charge and dragged him along by the loose cloth as she backed her way into the train. She managed to get the kid to safety. That was her contribution to this whole ordeal. Now she needed to figure out how they were going to get back to the school.

Would this old man take them? How convenient that he just appeared randomly-

She jumped a little at the sudden shout coming from the old man. He screamed out a name...it was the name of the kid who got the snot beat out of him on the train by those robbers earlier. She didn't know what he looked like now that he was out in the snow nor did she know if he was even still alive. But it seemed as if this old man knew that kid pretty well. Seeing the man leave the train I'm too lazy to find the post and read if he did or not, Raine sighed as her initial idea of talking to the man was dashed.

Turning back to the kid before her, she propped him up against one of the walls and pulled out her wand. She didn't know if it would work, but she felt she had to try anyway. Moving her wand in a circle above his head, Raine would cast "Reparifors" over the boy and hope for the best. The worse thing that could happen is that nothing happened at all. But even if nothing did, they were on a warm train. If magic didn't heal the kid, surely there was something Muggle she could use to bring the second year back from the black void he seemed to be resting in soundly.

Action: Casts Reparifors on her charge

Now outside of the train engine, Alan got to take a look at the surroundings and the chaos. The train itself was long gone and now even trails of smoke were that visible anymore. Alan had no idea where exactly they were, there was just landscape and snow everywhere; not that he was good at the geography of Scotland in the first place. Alan heard all of the conversation, he saw some of the stuff happening outside and was not sure how to properly categorize the sort of magic he saw of the man in front of him but something about it felt off, it felt wrong. And he was not sure if something had gone wrong or not, but the man began to panic pretty fast and Alan was gonna listen at first, despite of how ominous and suspicious this all seemed, when Mennauh's voice pierced through and brought him in connection with the terrorists that had attacked their compartment in the first place. "Wh-what?" he muttered, as his gaze flew to the girl, insecurity written all over his place. What was this all about? But one thing he knew was true... him arriving at this exact time in the middle of nowhere seemed a little too convenient, right? "Is that true? How did you know we were here, sir? This is not exactly a place to take a trip with such an expensive car is it?" he asked curiously, as he eyes the old Athanatos suspiciously.

The older boy handed Opeila a piece of candy.
The second year stared at it, her mind spinning around how absurd this situation was. There she sat on the snow, with barely more than a t-shirt, covered in blood, someone just lifted a dying boy off of her and... now there was a piece of candy in front of her face. Opeila liked candy. She was not obsessed with sugar like some others she had seen from her year- maybe the disappearance of parental control was not the best for everyone- but she did enjoy it.

It simply didn't fit into the situation, that at this point was simply a mix of horrors in the child's head. Slowly Opeila raised her hand and took the candy out of the boy's. "Th- Thank... you.", she managed to whisper, her voice cracking.

At some point Opeila just... blacked out. Suddenly she was following Gris, who was holding her hand, towards the flashy car. When did she get up? The Slytherin didn't resist. The man... whoever he was- he might be able to help them. And if he was just going to kidnap them all again, well... For the little girl the alternative was to freeze to death in the snow. So she followed her friend. Something small and furry touched her ankle- Loras had followed as well, longing for the promising warmth of the car, just like his mistress.

Getting closer to the entrance, Opeila shuddered. Her eyes were directed at the ground, her free right hand clasping her left arm. Whether he brought them all back to the castle or not, Opeila could already feel the flu that would certainly come after. Her skin was icecold, barely warmed by the torn sweater and she looked a lot paler than usual.
Once they entered the train, Opeila would tremble even more than before. Before she could fall again, she would look for the nearest seat.

@Rafael D’spacito

Valentine was a smoldering figure from a distance, covered in crisp burnt fabric and dried blood. The skin beneath was blackened, but whole. Thaddeus Athanatos had restored him, for a cost he would not come to know of just yet. His blonde hair spiked outward like the bristles on a broom, each brittle strand just a touch away from crumbling to dust. His eyes were wide with intense pain, but his pupils crinkled with thought. He wasn’t about to be a sheep just yet.

Receiving aid from the older man had given him no obligation to follow his instructions. While under normal circumstances he might have extended this courtesy, he was not yet ready to trust this man with his life. Thaddeus’s ominous words only made him shudder with paranoia, and his agitation only grew.

When the older man walked past, the boy’s gaze followed him to the wreckage of a train lying behind him. His expression drooped with concern. Where were his friends? What had happened to them?

A shuffling of footsteps near the entrance of the caboose would answer this question of his as Rafael D’spacito emerged from the darkness, his hands dripping with crimson. The younger boy remained still, his joints stiff and unmoving, his only offer of solace in the wayward gaze he cast at the older. He had yet to see Evelynn. Were he and Rafa the only ones in the room who had survived the crash?

Bereft of focus, he began shambling forward slowly through the snow, rejuvenated muscles cramping as he grew accustomed to the new tissue on his body. He would pull up next to Rafael, meeting the dashing supermodel of a teen eye to eye. His dyed hair, his intense gaze, none of it would hold his attention today. Instead, Valentine gently took hold of Rafael’s hands and a small piece of redundant linen that hung from his bandaged forearms. His mind wandered fruitfully for something, anything, witty to say. But there were no words for the Thunderbird, only a plea for restraint of violence.

“I would appreciate if you didn’t kick me in the dick.”

No smile from Valentine. No, they weren’t that close yet, but perhaps this gesture of his would lead to something greater down the road. He worked wordlessly, wiping away the blood and grim with his sleeve before tying each of his hands up firmly with a separate piece of cloth.

Actions:

Bandaging Rafael.

[font=century gothic]INTERACTING WITH @Thaddeus Athanatos, @Marshal Mozor, @Scarlett Aden, @Everly Charlton | MENTIONING @Hugh Lowe, @Meenauh Silmataurea, @Vladimir Athanatos[/font]

"..Sir?" She wasn't getting through to him. Surely the man had heard her. He had to. "Sir please…" Evelynn's voice seemed far away, even to herself, then. Was she even speaking aloud any longer?

At this distance, as close as she was to Lowe now… it was the first she'd seen of Athanatos' condition. She'd heard the beating he'd received, but hadn't born witness to it. His state was grim. Even she had to admit that he appeared to be in a worse state than Mozor. Trying and failing to swallow away the lump that had appeared in her throat, a sense of urgency began to bubble in her belly. This wasn't good. No, this was bad. Very very bad. The hope she born that this man could help them to heal Mozor began to ebb and fade. All the more so as all sense of civility seemed to escape the impeccably dressed gentleman and he went to such lengths as to pull off his glove, cut his palm and drip blood into the boy's mouth. Transfixed for a time, Evelynn could only stand and stare, watching as what almost looked like black smoke began to billow from the unconscious maw. She hadn't the faintest idea what it was that she was witnessing, but whatever it was sat well with her not at all.

With rising suspicion, grey eyes flickered between the two individuals. She didn't even need Silmataurea's arrival and subsequent commentary to make the hairs along her spine jumped to attention. It was dark. Whatever he had done. It had to have been dark magic. It reeked of it. Something other than the cold sent a shiver to tremble her shoulders. And when the man called to board the train, she found herself frozen. Rooted to the spot. Only moments ago, she would have complied without a second of hesitation. He was an adult. They were in need. He had a means to take them to safety. He could even heal them. But this… whatever this was… was it worth it? Silmataurea's words of warning seeded themselves in Evelynn's thoughts.

Don't board the train.

Was he with SCAR? Or worse… was he a hag? Did they take male forms? Of course they did. The one had appeared as a male half-giant. Was this magic something that a human could do? Would boarding the train mean walking into a trap? Was this all a trick? But then… his desperation did seem genuine. Whatever Athanatos meant to this man, it seemed as though he knew the boy and was more than a little distraught by his state of injury.

Whatever spiralling descent her thoughts may have been taking, however, was interrupted by the fetid stench of the smoke. All of a sudden, the crisp ozone of the winter wonderland was replaced by this hair-curling stench of rot. It was enough to churn her stomach. A hand clapped over her mouth reactively. Just in time to the man's proclamation that they were leaving. To an onlooker it might have given the coincidental appearance that she was shocked by his declaration. All the more so when her eyes flashed wide at what could only have been a muffled scream coming from behind.

Practically giving herself whiplash with how swiftly she'd turned her head, Evelynn's gaze fell immediately upon the struggling form of a now revived Mozor mummy. Just in time to see Aden raise a wand and cast the Knockback Jinx at him. What little colour had remained drained from the prefect's features. Had they devolved entirely into anarchy now? What was she playing at, attacking a defenceless and struggling student?! Hadn't she just been helping Mozor? Questions that couldn't even begin to receive answers clouded an already reeling mind. Boot soles slipped in the snow in her haste to return to Mozor. Clearly, they couldn't count on the adult to help them. He was already high-tailing it out of there with Athanatos and hurrying back to the train plane thing.

"What are you doing?!" Evelynn shouted ahead of herself as she scrambled back towards them in the snow with as much grace as a fawn trying to run across a frozen lake. There was no denying the exasperation in her tone. He was teetering on the brink of a void already; the last thing her junior needed was a blow to the head. "You're going to hurt him!"

As soon as she reached the group again, she dropped to her knees at Mozor's side, fingers clawing at the bandages that had hidden his face away. It seemed they could all use a bit of help finessing their skills. Nevermind the dressing job serving well enough to shock anyone who roused in a state of darkness of and immobilization, any thicker and they could very well have suffocated him. Searching his features with desperate hope that he was going to be okay, Evelynn murmured, "Mozor.. Hey…" If his eyes weren't already open and a state of relative alertness not immediately apparent, she would give his shoulders a shake in an attempt to elicit a response. "Marshal…Are you alright?..."

"We need to get him up…" Evelynn implored a moment later, glancing back to the other girls. "That man…He's—" Her arm shifted to point behind towards the stranger. "—leaving! We need to get Mozor to the train before they depart without us!"

As far as she was concerned, this was their only likely escape. Who knew if anyone else was coming for them. Or if they were, how long it would be before they arrived. For all she knew, the injured among them would already be dead by the time they were found. Many of the others had expressed concerns and voiced suspicions. While she was similarly cautious about the motive for his sudden arrival, she could at least recognize that it was still likely the best course of action for those in immediate danger. At this point, they just needed to survive. They could sort through any consequences—hopefully—once they were stable.

[font=century gothic]Sta 7 | Eva 10 | Str 2 | Wis 10 | Arc 2 | Acc 10
Keen Eye | Fearless

ACTION: Contemplating their dire situation, rushing back to Marshal, attempting to tear the bandages from his face, asking for help to get him to the train[/font]

Inside the Broken Train

If Flutters could talk, Elena would hear some choice words from her feathered friend. Perhaps it was abused by that snake, owls never cared much for those creatures.

She would attempt to comfort her pet. -- You're alright. You're safe.

It would soothe the agitated creature. She just had to make her escape. The window turned skylight offered her an out. She would try to climb out rather than jump down to the aisle below and walk out the train. Seemingly minor, there was a physical exertion that was required, an act of strength.

Elena attempts to climb out of the train window.
Strength Check. 15 (success)

Her view was from above. She would see the injured and her milling peers. She would see the plane, her ticket out of her if she chose to pursue it.

It was scary out there... but Akari knew that she could not stay. Clutching onto Kenji, her pet would give her an iota of comfort. She trembled. "What have we gotten ourselves into?” Indeed, they were in a precarious situation, but they could not stay in this twisted wreckage.

Cade was her saving grace. A guiding light. She would follow him, clutching Kenji in her hands cold air would greet her on the outside. And she would see it, see the terrible scene that surrounded her.

Outside the Broken Train

@Marshal Mozor would snap back to life, from the respite that was his slumber to the harsh, cold reality that was the Scottish tundra. A world where he hurt. A world where he would find himself trapped, tightly bound. People rarely consider the pain of a broken form, that the pain was not a wave of anguish that would pour out of him like an endless spring. No, it came and it went, making it worse because one could not become accustomed to what was variable, what was not static. When he first tried to move, his body would revolt. He would feel the deafening pain that would go from a roar to a throb when he was still. How could he be still in such a grievous state that he could not fully comprehend in he newly roused consciousness? From a state of perilous disaster to one in which he was bound by unknown, potentially nefarious sources.

He would not know why.

He would not be able to ask. He would not be able to scream. To reach his hands towards the pain. To ameliorate a suffering he could not see or understand. But with each movement, each desperate thrash would come a jolt of pain. Of suffering and the primal sense of fear and dread. Unknowing the why, of what condition his broken, covered form was in. Only that he was not intact. That a part of him was shattered.

Everything was tight. There was no fleeing. No way in which he could intervene, only passively accept the consequences of this suffering inflicted upon him. Of course he was not alone, there were others around him. Not that he could easily turn his head, twist his form. The bindings and the pain would prevent as much. That was part of the fear with claustrophobia, it was that self-sustaining, evolutionary fear brought down by our ancestors. Do not let them corner you. Do not let them bind you. Do not let yourself get trapped in a small, enclosed space. Places that would leave him vulnerable.

He would struggle, betraying any notion these ladies might have that he was calm, cool, collected. Muffled cries, pain-laden thrashes, he would find himself on his stomach. He would stare at the frigid earth, his sod-stained bandaged backside in the air. It was not the scene that he was going to want the ladies to have if he planned to ask any of them to the Ball in coming months.

It was not the assistance he was expecting, muffled by a layer of bandages over his ears he wuld hear a statement -- "Shit." Yeah, well shit. This was not a great situation most certainly, a pained and panicked boy, bound and broken. No knowledge of what had transpired, only the vague notion of the circumstances leading to his unconsciousness if he was able to somehow organize that jumbled mess in his head.

"Does anyone know how to knock someone out?" Not the statement someone in Marshall's predicament wanted to hear. Was he being saved or assailed. It certainly seemed like the later.

"Oh screw it, I'll do it myself." Even if the old man was a dark wizard bent on world domination starting with a small group of underclassmen, they were safer with him than they were with Miss Aden. Marshall might know the voice, and if he did not his eyes were free to roam. He would know who said that. He would hear her tell him that she was 'sorry' claiming that the assault despite his incredible injuries was 'for his own good.'

"Flipendo!"

Scarlett Aden casts Flippendo at Marshall
DC: 12
Roll; 11 [+6]
Attack: 3 [+7]
Evasion (disadvantage due to bondage): 8 [+5], 8 [+5]

He could not do much, it was in fact disgraceful and incredible painful how he would inch like a worm and roll away. His broken bones and bound, abraded form would not stop him from saving himself from her madness.

"What are you doing?!" an exasperated Evelynn shouted. What was the girl thinking attacking an restrained, unarmed man. She would rush to Marashall's side, this possibly being the moment that would burn into his heart and mind evermore. This was one of those defining moments, where someone defends and someone speaks up. Someone says and tries to save. "You're going to hurt him!" Actually, she might kill him. He had only been pulled back to consciousness just barely. The threat of death was looming and that blood would be on that girl's hands.

Eve would drop by the boy's side. Her fingers desperately clawing at the white bandages now partially soaked in blood and perhaps tears. She would rip and break him free and once the cloth was ripped from his jaw, he would be able to breathe fully for the first time. He would be able to speak. To scream. To cry. To plea. "Mozor.. Hey…" A person, yes. A person that was not attacking him. A person that was not hurting him. She would shake him, that would hurt like hell. He would not be able to fight back. "Marshal…Are you alright?..." He was not. No, he was far from fine. still vulnerable. Just attacked. only now he could yell, he could beg.

"We need to get him up…" Evelynn implored. Marshall's legs were still broken. He was not able to walk. He was bound, he could not fight. It was cold, he would feel the cold despite the layers of bandages. He might soon freeze. "That man…He's—" Eve's arm and pointed finger would identify the older man in the throes of an argument, a tense moment. "—leaving! We need to get Mozor to the train before they depart without us!"

Yes, there was a sense of urgency. Do or die. Do or don't and try to depend on others. Depend on oneself. Depend on... nobody.

@Katrina Walker would wander out of the overturned train. She was relived that Piérre was still alive, that he was likely to be okay. So fine that he would ask Katrina if she was going to be fine.

“I’ll be alright, we all will.”

An assurance that would hopefully not be a lie. There would be an embrace, why him of all the broken peers was she compelled to hold him tight. To confess “I was so scared for you...” Others [Alan and Anastasia] were helping the Italian to his feet, escorting him from the mangled train.

She would notice the well-dressed gentleman standing in the cold. He was not quiet about is presence either, making those demands to get back onto his plane-limo.

It was hard for Piérre to walk, his legs would feel weak and would wobble under his weight. He would fall to his knees, either dropped or escaping from the grasp of his evacuation team atthe sight of a kitten. "Figgy!" a strange name most certainly, but one announced with great affection.

His injuries would not protect him from a scolding. Ana was helping the body stagger to freedom when he found his errant kitten, Ana would find her previously forgotten feline companion as well - Jasmine. "There you are, Jasmine, come on," she encouraged. A distraction not long withstanding, she would lift the boy with the attention span of a toddler plied with sugar back to his feet. "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 needed to get him someplace safe, she had other idiot friends that she needed to get help for. Friends such as Marshall who was mummified and left in the hands of a sadist. Like Rafa who was bleeding on the train, a meathead rather than a scholar, finding exits was a tad challenging for the pretty boy (that never posts).

The Italian's potential future paramour if that embrace meant something to either of them had proclaimed that someone was there. A fact that would usually be lauded as a grateful, fortunate moment was in this case met with suspicion as the quidditch player's discerning gaze would attempt to glean something from the the situation.

Piérre's Keen Eyes.
25% (1-25) chance to see something (if there is anything to see).
Roll: 25

He would notice a few things, the empathetic and analytical sort he was. First and foremost, the man appeared to be one of means. This was obvious from his attire, from the vehicle he drove or at least rode in, from the tone of his voice. Yes, money had an accent and this man's accent was thick. Second, this man was in acute distress. He appeared terrified, in a panic. File he was distant, his features were plainly exaggerated - wide eyes, skin that was too pale and a quavering quality to his words. The man was not acting and if he was, the man deserved an award.

“Something’s going on over there.”

A rescue party of one? Well, actually more but the staff was on the plane.

“C-can we go over there? M-maybe someone over there needs help too?”

Piérre would suggest. Not that there was any sign that there was someone in need there, except for the future him. Not that there was any shame in getting yourself to safety first.

“Should we?”

Should they? Possibly. Maybe. Probably. Either that or wait for the school to send someone, but at best that could take hours. Hours during which those ill-dressed S.C.A.R. bandits could return while they were at their most vulnerable. "Is he trying to help? Maybe we should try and get Piérre into, um, whatever that is," she agreed. It was the easiest option. It offered a clean, safe means of extraction. It was their present only option besides waiting in the cold. Some of the students were badly injured. Some of the students were dangerous to leave to their own devices - a danger to themselves or a danger to others.

Ana would look around as she helped her burden along. Where was he? She thought she might have seen him, that pretty faced dolt. "Rafa?" She would get no answer (because the man never posts). She needed to tarry on, to know that Rafa would ultimately find his way also.

That was right, Rafael was missing still. Standing in the doorway, he was at the very least alive as Jackson could see. Bloody and injured. Alone. It would seem that an enemy would be the one to render the Quidditch star aide. The duelist had been healed by dark magic, for a cost he did not yet know as none was asked of him and none was declared. Yet had he been aware of the specifics of the magic used, he would know that the cost - both pain and blood - had been paid in full. A gift from a stranger who might soon become an enemy if his peers have their way.

His flesh would feel a bit too tight, like the aftermath of a sunburn. Stretched taut with each movement. Yet he would approach the train and the place where his enemy. no, that might be too strong a word, his bully. Yes, that seemed potentially more apt.

“I would appreciate if you didn’t kick me in the dick.”

Young Valentine made his sole request. He was not there to fight. He was not there to do anything besides bandage his hands. He no longer needed the bandages about his form. they were used, filthy even but a step up from what the teen had which was nothing. He would circumferentially wrap the gashes on the youth's hands. His hands would resemble mittens when he was done.

Starlee would wander around the train, having found Flutters she had lost her charge, Borvo was launched out the broken window and landed someplace around here. Indeed, she would find him, on the ground in a dented cage. "Oh Borvo... are you okay? I'm so sorry... I... I don't know what happened..." The poor bird was traumatized, he would never want to be left confined to a cage again. The whoots and squaks would tell her a story of unintended flight, of tumbles and crashes. Of fear.

"What happened? There's this strange black stuff on the snow..."

Honey, so much happened. Don't let me get started. The black stuff was blood, despite the fact that it resembled ink. There was a great vessel of the likes she had never seen before. An old man. Many of her classmates and peers.

"Hey... Is everything okay here?"

No, not really. But that was something the rest of them would have to explain.

"Is that our ride back to the castle?"

Yes, that large, expensive aircraft could be her ticket home. Her way out of this situation.

@Xailah Alptraum was watching as some entered the limo-plane. A place she, for whatever reason distrusted. How dare an old man with enormous wealth offer to provide aide to a group of school children in their hour of need. A likely deplorable, despicable act. No, she would not enter. The cold, the girl she was leaving behind -- that would take precedent. She would not enter, nobody would force her. She would wander away from the plane and find herself in Meenauh's company. Not that Meenauh was incapable of entering the plane under her own power. It was her choice, her stubborn volition - to freeze rather than accept help.

"Don't-"

A faint whisper nobody would hear from the confines of the broken train.

"Don't board it."

Too faint, too weak. The voice was failing her. She took this as a kidnapping rather than a rescue. His reasoning, Merlin knows.

"Don't... board... that thing," her voice clearer, it would carry. Like a firm voice, not quite a shout.

"This man... just performed something dark..." she proclaimed and she was not wrong. There was something dark, something wrong being committed by the well-dressed gentleman. How many would listen to her? How many would want to? They were faced with obviously skewed options - a warm cozy thing, a vehicle that could take them home. Or they could stay in the midst of a disaster that almost killed them, that still might. It was a good trade.

"That man... is with SCAR," the girl made an incredible jump in logic. One that the old man would not bother to dignify, much like the last. Her stance was assured, she would not come. she would not follow. The old man would not drag the unwilling, petulant teen.

Near the old man --

Hugh Lowe would have some questions for the old man. "What did you just do?" There was a tone of accusation more than scholastic inquiry.

"Healing," he claimed abruptly.

"That does not look... normal... sir." Indeed it did not.

"Since when did magic look normal?" he replied obviously frustrated. Perhaps it was with the line of interrogation. Perhaps it was the situation. Or perhaps it was the fact that his son was still limp in Hugh Lowe's arms.

It was not working.

He did not respond to the girl's protests, but Hugh would. "SCAR? The rebel group?" It was a wild accusation - an old, wealthy PUREBLOOD associated with a squib and muggle-based terrorist group. He was a well-known advocate for squib and other 'lesser' magical creature rights. It was a part of a laundry list of benevolent acts he was assigned to. That did not necessarily make someone a good man. Perhaps being sympathetic was synonymous with extremist activity.

Hugh would turn around, blocking Vladimir's body with his own. When he did, he would hear a different side of the old man. "How did you know to come here?"

"Turn around and give him to me, I wont hesitate to blow through you," he warned. It was not an idle threat, it was the sort of thing that someone says before you spend a month in St. Mungos. Was it a calculated statement or one of desperation? A key insight into the cruel true nature of the old man? Perhaps a bit of multiple things. But one thing was true, a man's son was dying in Hugh's arms and he was dumb enough to try to pull him away when his father was attempting to render aide.

It was a warning statement. One that a father would make good on. "I was following my son," he added quickly, a brief moment where he tried to placate the part giant. The only statement he would make as he cut into his own forearm and let his burgundy blood spill. The man was a blue-blood in name only. The blood would fall and coalesce into a long, pointed spear. Yes, spear. The man appeared to practice solely in blood magic. Be that 'evil' or dark as most would consider it to be if nothing else 'taboo' it would leave one to ponder a question few have asked long enough to candidly consider -- what or who defines 'dark magic.' There were a number of dark spells, curses even that they students learn in school and sue with casual disregard. There were 'good' or at the very least neutral spells if one had to give them an alignment that were used for evil, to inflict pain or terror on others.

Wizards were bloody biased.

And they also seemed to lack consideration for the lives of others when their curiosity needed to be sated.

"Is that true? How did you know we were here, sir? This is not exactly a place to take a trip with such an expensive car is it?"

The old man's grip would tighten around the spear. "Do you think that I care about the lot of you. That any of you are remotely significant enough for me to harm. You. Every last one of you less my son is an irrelevant. I don't know you. I do not know your parents and even if I did, they are not worth much to me. So I will say this once and only once, get in the plane or not. I am not making you. Stay and freeze for all I care like the paranoid, selfish nitwits you are! But, I will cut through each and every last one of you if you deny me my son who is DYING as even someone as ignorant as you lot can discern with your shared brain cell. Get in the damn plane ," he pointed with his fully formed spear at the plane.

It was ridiculous really. Spit in their benefactors face. Question his motives. What was he going to do? Kidnap a few dozen children? why would he want them. They were smelly, noisy and awful. He had no need or want for money, IF any of their parents had any. Did he want to kill them? He could have just left them to die in the snow, picked off the rest before help ever came. Was this a publicity stunt? Well, if it was, it would behoove him to not harm a hair on a single one of their heads. It might have even been true, but if the kids really thought that they would have rushed the plane and took the man for every bit of gain they could earn as he tried to gain the appeal of his voters.

Well, if nothing else they learned that like father like son in regard to a temper.

Warning: Hugh is at risk for death at this juncture. While people have previously conversed that they do not mind character death, I always provide warnings when I can. Withholding a man's dying son so that he might interrogate or pry answers from them is a valid reason for even the most rational of men to resort to murder and he might be old, but he is not invalid.

Inside the Magical Limo Jet

@Galton Lansdale was a creature of chaos, of gluttony and destructive impulse. Not that he realized his nature, his terrible potential. Like a hurricane, it did not know its nature. It simply twirled and whirled about, consuming and subsuming. He barely registered the danger that they were in, the chaos and the pain. He was driven by something so very primal, it was difficult to manipulate. Sure he would come, he would take and he would devour. He would bend to the will of his nature, his flesh weak.

The candy was tart. The would break like brittle stone under the head of a hammer. The shattered saccharine treat would coat the inside of his salivating mouth. He would likely not notice the dame sitting in a far corner out of sight of the door but in full view of the candy bowl. Well-dressed, cross legged. She wore a three-piece suit and a pair of heels that were expensive enough to buy a room in a decent hotel for a weekend.

"Welcome aboard, would you mind if I asked you a few questions?" The lady was not waiting for his consent, it was presumptive much like the fact that the candy was for him. A floating quill at her side scribbled on a notepad that rested on a small round decorative table at her side. "Everything will of course be recorded for the sake of my document," she smiled. "Annabelle Avery, Daily Prophet."

Griseldis would move on past Hugh, likely presuming he was about to enter the craft rather than challenge an old man and withhold his dying son. Introductions and a commendation for sharing candy, an act that for the addict in rehabilitation was incredibly kind. Opeila would accept the kindness but the ordeal was far from over, as she allowed her chilled flesh to warm.

"To be honest, I don't know what those black smoke are, but perhaps we can find out about it if we ask that man over there."

Through the window they could see them. See the scene that was quickly devolving.

"Well, that man did announce that he would offer a ride for us...it wasn't like we have any choice here."

Well, technically they could wait in anticipation of the eventuality that something else would come. Hopefully that something else would be good to them. It would not be those terrorists back to take what they failed to the first time they were here. If nothing else, there was candy and they were out of the cold for a short time. This an a chance for them to regroup, for them to rest and assess their position. It was a chance to get back on their feet.

Indeed, Raine had saved AJ's life but he was defenseless and Raine could barely care for herself. There was only one thing to do - get the boy back on his feet.

Raine casts Reparifors on AJ
Wisdom DC 14
Roll: 1 Critical Failure

The dice hated AJ in particular (I swear I am not doing this). The boy would start to seize where he laid, foam from his mouth, his eyes would turn back in his head.

What Happened?

@Xailah Alptraum 900/1200 [outside]
@Piérre Marchonné 1/300 (bandaged) [outside] Successful Keen Eye but only learned that the man was in actual panic and that he had gobs of money. <Plane-limo>
@Everly Charlton 250/600 [outside] *no post
@Calanthe Choi 750/1000 [inside] *no post
@Katrina Walker 606/900 (bandaged) [outside]
@Griseldis Edelhardt 800/1000 (scent) [outside] <Plane-limo>
@Alan Vanes 1000/1100 [outside] Angered Thaddeus.
@Alec Mason 400/600 [inside] *no post
@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] Might be stabbed?
@Scarlett Aden 500/700 [outside] Attempted to Flippendo (to KO) Marshall, she missed.
@Jacob Harman 240/600 (bleeding -20 health/round) [outside] *no post
@Allister-Jameson MacAllister 0/600 mummified, unconscious, seizing [outside] <Plane-limo>
@Anastasia Beckett 400/500 [outside] <Plane-limo>
@Rafael D'Spacito 875/1000 (bandaged) [inside] *no post
@Evelynn Decipio 700/700 [outside]
@Jackson Valentine 75/500 (healed) [outside] Bandaged Rafa, his dick is presently safe.
@Raine Sage 800/800 [outside] <Plane-limo> Cast Reparifors but critically failed on AJ.
@Starlee Kennedy 150/400 [outside]

• Flutters [outside]
• Borvo [outside]
• Jasmine [outside]
• Kenji [outside]

@Cade Darkbound 450/500 [outside] *no post
@Elena Jangleton 550/900 (bandaged) [outside]
@Akari Kato 500/500 [outside]
@Calanthe Choi 800/1000 [inside] * no post
@Meenauh Silmataurea 80/400 (bandaged) [outside]
@Marshal Mozor 0/600 broken/shattered ankle. (bandaged - mummified and therefore bound) (revived - conscious next round) [outside] Scarlett attempts to KO him with a Flippendo in his bound and damaged state, he rolls away!