It was a dark night on the outskirts of London, dark and ominous which spoke directly to the soul of the Earl of Cornwall James Cunningham. The mysterious figure of the English Court watched from the balcony of his bedroom as lightning flashed through the sky and down into the trees. Lightning but no rain, such an odd combination. He figured that one of his artists would have something to say about it, perhaps Billy Boy could use it in one of his plays.
At that thought James snorted and reached up to run his fingers through his tussled brown hair, he definitely wasn’t the most normal looking member of the court. When he’d popped in all those months ago for the first time they’d thought he was a moor but then they realized that he was something different. Something far more exotic. With his richly tanned skin they likened him to be Italian, but his accent was most definitely English and then of course he had his coat of arms and his family pedigree. But there was still something about the man that didn’t quite fit, be it his absence from the humdrum life of court or the fact that he somehow managed to slip into and out of every situation without really being noticed.
James Cunningham was a shadow, and on a night like this the shadow watched the sky light up and remove the darkness from his property. He’d purchased this abandoned Catholic Cathedral at a reasonable price, or at least that’s what the paperwork said. The rumors of course had flown when James suddenly declared that he’d owned this parcel. But it suited him, in full Gothic style with elegantly carved stained glass windows and gorgeous wooden beams and floors inside, it just spoke of James Cunningham.
He’d added his own flair though, building up the stables to house an assortment of some of the finest and rarest horses any member of the court had ever seen, and then his kennels had some of the most remarkable hounds in them. Hounds that scared his hunting comrades because of their wolf-like look and their silent hunting style some thought that James bred and housed a pack of wolves on the property. To that point he’d neither confirm nor deny, but when the moon was high and the night was cold the howling could be heard across the wall and into London.
But tonight was not a night for his hounds, tonight was a night for something else. James had known it without knowing it at all, something had drawn him to the tiny balcony and something more had drawn him to stay as the rainless storm raged on around him. He didn’t dare take his eyes off the one clearing in the woods surrounded by stone pillars the Catholics had placed for some reason or another, and something in his soul told him that tonight was a night of grand importance.
His steel gray eyes held that place even as an assortment of lightning cracked down repeatedly in the same place, scorching the earth and illuminating the trees until they looked like monsters. And then he saw why his soul had told him to watch, he saw the people. The travelers, they appeared in the rainless night like denizens of some brand new dawn. And the Earl of Cornwall smiled, they were wayward souls just like him and what else could a wayward soul do but offer them food and bed and introduce them to the life of grandeur that the English court had to offer? Oh yes, that sounded like splendid mischief, and who knows maybe just maybe these new wayward travelers could tell him something about himself in the process.
For James couldn’t tell you where he’d come from, how that pedigree had come into his hands, or why his name was James Cunningham. He couldn’t tell you much about himself, but he could tell you many things about this world, this life, and the people around him. So as he descended down the stairs and out to the people he couldn’t help but smile, smile with the hope that he soon would find out what these travelers needed and what they could do for him in return.
At that thought James snorted and reached up to run his fingers through his tussled brown hair, he definitely wasn’t the most normal looking member of the court. When he’d popped in all those months ago for the first time they’d thought he was a moor but then they realized that he was something different. Something far more exotic. With his richly tanned skin they likened him to be Italian, but his accent was most definitely English and then of course he had his coat of arms and his family pedigree. But there was still something about the man that didn’t quite fit, be it his absence from the humdrum life of court or the fact that he somehow managed to slip into and out of every situation without really being noticed.
James Cunningham was a shadow, and on a night like this the shadow watched the sky light up and remove the darkness from his property. He’d purchased this abandoned Catholic Cathedral at a reasonable price, or at least that’s what the paperwork said. The rumors of course had flown when James suddenly declared that he’d owned this parcel. But it suited him, in full Gothic style with elegantly carved stained glass windows and gorgeous wooden beams and floors inside, it just spoke of James Cunningham.
He’d added his own flair though, building up the stables to house an assortment of some of the finest and rarest horses any member of the court had ever seen, and then his kennels had some of the most remarkable hounds in them. Hounds that scared his hunting comrades because of their wolf-like look and their silent hunting style some thought that James bred and housed a pack of wolves on the property. To that point he’d neither confirm nor deny, but when the moon was high and the night was cold the howling could be heard across the wall and into London.
But tonight was not a night for his hounds, tonight was a night for something else. James had known it without knowing it at all, something had drawn him to the tiny balcony and something more had drawn him to stay as the rainless storm raged on around him. He didn’t dare take his eyes off the one clearing in the woods surrounded by stone pillars the Catholics had placed for some reason or another, and something in his soul told him that tonight was a night of grand importance.
His steel gray eyes held that place even as an assortment of lightning cracked down repeatedly in the same place, scorching the earth and illuminating the trees until they looked like monsters. And then he saw why his soul had told him to watch, he saw the people. The travelers, they appeared in the rainless night like denizens of some brand new dawn. And the Earl of Cornwall smiled, they were wayward souls just like him and what else could a wayward soul do but offer them food and bed and introduce them to the life of grandeur that the English court had to offer? Oh yes, that sounded like splendid mischief, and who knows maybe just maybe these new wayward travelers could tell him something about himself in the process.
For James couldn’t tell you where he’d come from, how that pedigree had come into his hands, or why his name was James Cunningham. He couldn’t tell you much about himself, but he could tell you many things about this world, this life, and the people around him. So as he descended down the stairs and out to the people he couldn’t help but smile, smile with the hope that he soon would find out what these travelers needed and what they could do for him in return.
Cici was holding her favourite blouse in her hands, a towel around her. It was long, just past her knees made of a brown that matched her own cafe au latte skin. Her curly brown hair was still damp and frizzing up in it's pony tail. She wore no make-up and looked completely confused. She looked around, whipping her head this way and that.
It was the smell that told her something was wrong. Dawn had been in the kitchen making hot chocolate. The smell had faded too quickly. Worry crossed her features and she felt faint. Something was wrong. She had fallen and hit her head, right? That's what it was?
She groaned, realizing she was outside, naked and had no clue what had happened to her. What a time to be without her smartphone, or her computer or her daughter! What was going on for poor Dawn? A million things rushed through Cici's mind and she broke down into tears.
It was the smell that told her something was wrong. Dawn had been in the kitchen making hot chocolate. The smell had faded too quickly. Worry crossed her features and she felt faint. Something was wrong. She had fallen and hit her head, right? That's what it was?
She groaned, realizing she was outside, naked and had no clue what had happened to her. What a time to be without her smartphone, or her computer or her daughter! What was going on for poor Dawn? A million things rushed through Cici's mind and she broke down into tears.
Silv had been about ready to finish his job, his dagger poised to take someone out when suddenly his surroundings changed. He recognized that he wasn't in the target's home. Silverin had been paid well and was now a bit agitated that someone had played such a foul trick on him. When he looked around he noticed the towel clad woman and pulled off his cloak, offering it to her while he looked away.
"Nero! Nero! Put him down! Nero! NERO!"
The petite female orderly was screaming at the top of her lungs, just in effort to be heard over the cacophonous dim that started every time a room full of mental patients had some sort of episode.
The patient in question looked away from the book he was writing. "What? He had flowers in his mouth!" Turning back, Nero saw that his book had become a dribbling man twice his size with a beaten, bloody face. Less than confused, the almost cadaverous patient sometimes known as Nutter sat back in his wheelchair and began strapping himself into the restraints that he'd almost magically slipped out of. Three stronger, larger orderlies rushed in, alerted by the panicked call, slapping Nero into a choke hold as they pushed several cc's of sedative into his bloodstream. As the colors made music, Nero's eyes closed and time and space ceased to matter.
Nero Was. aND HE WASN'T. And he was. wASN'T. Was. wASN'T.
~*~
Was
~*~
Nero was dancing, outside beneath a raging sky, any sky, for the fist time in forever. Without any other thought, he cast himself to the ground and began making angels in the grass, eyes open so wide that he didn't appear to have a face as he sang a song from his elderly years, when he was an old man against the Dinosaur Reich. "Ay, bee, cee, dee, ei, ef gee, Allahu ackbar goldfish fart!" Crashing into a fit of giggles, Nutter looked around, petting the lawn while he said something about rabbits and radio waves.
The petite female orderly was screaming at the top of her lungs, just in effort to be heard over the cacophonous dim that started every time a room full of mental patients had some sort of episode.
The patient in question looked away from the book he was writing. "What? He had flowers in his mouth!" Turning back, Nero saw that his book had become a dribbling man twice his size with a beaten, bloody face. Less than confused, the almost cadaverous patient sometimes known as Nutter sat back in his wheelchair and began strapping himself into the restraints that he'd almost magically slipped out of. Three stronger, larger orderlies rushed in, alerted by the panicked call, slapping Nero into a choke hold as they pushed several cc's of sedative into his bloodstream. As the colors made music, Nero's eyes closed and time and space ceased to matter.
Nero Was. aND HE WASN'T. And he was. wASN'T. Was. wASN'T.
~*~
Was
~*~
Nero was dancing, outside beneath a raging sky, any sky, for the fist time in forever. Without any other thought, he cast himself to the ground and began making angels in the grass, eyes open so wide that he didn't appear to have a face as he sang a song from his elderly years, when he was an old man against the Dinosaur Reich. "Ay, bee, cee, dee, ei, ef gee, Allahu ackbar goldfish fart!" Crashing into a fit of giggles, Nutter looked around, petting the lawn while he said something about rabbits and radio waves.
Vernon's Bar, Brooklyn, New York. A Friday in 1945.
"Come on, just one time."
"I already told ya, I don't wanna do it."
"C'mon, mac," Jack said, sterner this time, "it'll only take a second."
Vernon turned to Jack.
"Aw, just leave 'em alone, Jack. Bennie's had a rough week."
Jack threw Vernon a glare and then turned back to Bennie.
"One time, mac. Just let me do it one time an' I'll leave you alone."
"For crying out loud...fine. Do it once and then you leave me the hell alone."
Jack smirked as he fanned out a deck of cards in front of him.
"Pick one," he requested as Bennie drew a card out. "Now put it back somewheres after ya look at it."
Bennie did. Jack shuffled the cards and then went through them one by one; when he had reached the end of the deck, he turned to Bennie with a troubled expression. Bennie took a swig of his whiskey, incredulous all the while.
"Let me guess, you screwed it up."
"It usually works, but you must have thrown me off. Let me buy you a whiskey. Vernon?"
Vernon gave a sigh and drew up a whiskey for Bennie. As the drink was being set down, all three men noticed that there was a peculiar object stuck to the bottom of the glass. Bennie pulled the object off, to his shock it was the card he had selected from earlier. He snorted.
"Cute trick."
"Let me show you another one," Jack said as he shuffled Bennie's card back into the deck and stuffed the cards into his jacket.
"No, I already told ya I don't wanna see no more magic tricks tonight. I watched one, now I'm done."
Jack turned to Vernon.
"Hand me that box of stogies behind the counter there."
Vernon did. Jack stood up and held the box close to him, but not before opening the lid and taking a whiff of one of the cigars.
"Good stuff, Vernon. I woulda thought you'd keep something like this tucked away, not behind the counter."
"I may just have to start hiding them, Jack, if you're gonna keep puttin' your mitts all over 'em."
"Anyway, listen up. I'm gonna make these cigars disappear," Jack announced as Bennie and Vernon looked on. "1, 2-"
Gone.
Vernon and Bennie looked at the spot where Jack had stood only a moment before.
"That's the best goddamn magic trick I ever seen in my life," Bennie declared, shaking his head softly.
"Yeah, well he better reappear fast, or else I'm puttin' those cigars on his tab," Vernon quipped.
Now Jack was in a field. It was dark, but the lightning helped illuminate the area.
"3. Now-"
Jack stopped and looked around him. This was different. Plus, there were other people here with him. He smirked.
"Guess I'm a better magician than I thought I was."
"Come on, just one time."
"I already told ya, I don't wanna do it."
"C'mon, mac," Jack said, sterner this time, "it'll only take a second."
Vernon turned to Jack.
"Aw, just leave 'em alone, Jack. Bennie's had a rough week."
Jack threw Vernon a glare and then turned back to Bennie.
"One time, mac. Just let me do it one time an' I'll leave you alone."
"For crying out loud...fine. Do it once and then you leave me the hell alone."
Jack smirked as he fanned out a deck of cards in front of him.
"Pick one," he requested as Bennie drew a card out. "Now put it back somewheres after ya look at it."
Bennie did. Jack shuffled the cards and then went through them one by one; when he had reached the end of the deck, he turned to Bennie with a troubled expression. Bennie took a swig of his whiskey, incredulous all the while.
"Let me guess, you screwed it up."
"It usually works, but you must have thrown me off. Let me buy you a whiskey. Vernon?"
Vernon gave a sigh and drew up a whiskey for Bennie. As the drink was being set down, all three men noticed that there was a peculiar object stuck to the bottom of the glass. Bennie pulled the object off, to his shock it was the card he had selected from earlier. He snorted.
"Cute trick."
"Let me show you another one," Jack said as he shuffled Bennie's card back into the deck and stuffed the cards into his jacket.
"No, I already told ya I don't wanna see no more magic tricks tonight. I watched one, now I'm done."
Jack turned to Vernon.
"Hand me that box of stogies behind the counter there."
Vernon did. Jack stood up and held the box close to him, but not before opening the lid and taking a whiff of one of the cigars.
"Good stuff, Vernon. I woulda thought you'd keep something like this tucked away, not behind the counter."
"I may just have to start hiding them, Jack, if you're gonna keep puttin' your mitts all over 'em."
"Anyway, listen up. I'm gonna make these cigars disappear," Jack announced as Bennie and Vernon looked on. "1, 2-"
Gone.
Vernon and Bennie looked at the spot where Jack had stood only a moment before.
"That's the best goddamn magic trick I ever seen in my life," Bennie declared, shaking his head softly.
"Yeah, well he better reappear fast, or else I'm puttin' those cigars on his tab," Vernon quipped.
Now Jack was in a field. It was dark, but the lightning helped illuminate the area.
"3. Now-"
Jack stopped and looked around him. This was different. Plus, there were other people here with him. He smirked.
"Guess I'm a better magician than I thought I was."
At the time of her untimely departure, Vivienne was standing in the middle of a street waiting to be hit by a bus. She had decided enough was enough and that she didn't want to be on Earth any more. Vivienne had thought about it for weeks on end and finally a sweet release was in mind. She planned on being hit by a bus she knew all to well that passed by her afternoon begging before she tried slipping to sleep in her little cardboard space.
Her clothes were tattered, dirty and unsightly. Vivienne's face was covered in dirt, along with her hands and feet. Maybe a smell accompanied her as well. She never had time to clean, just think, think, think about food and death. She was done for now, her eyes squeezed shut not wanting to see the bus that was now honking at her.
Suddenly, the space changed around her. No longer was the smell of New York city, but of now a countryside smell. Vivienne's clenched up eyes and fists suddenly relaxed and she thought maybe she was in heaven. There were other people here, sitting, gazing, rolling around in the grass. All different clothes. Her eyes glassed over in happiness. She had to be dead.
"This is heaven, right? Or maybe it's hell?" she asked a man near by. Her mind was going to a million places, happy for everything to be over.
Her clothes were tattered, dirty and unsightly. Vivienne's face was covered in dirt, along with her hands and feet. Maybe a smell accompanied her as well. She never had time to clean, just think, think, think about food and death. She was done for now, her eyes squeezed shut not wanting to see the bus that was now honking at her.
Suddenly, the space changed around her. No longer was the smell of New York city, but of now a countryside smell. Vivienne's clenched up eyes and fists suddenly relaxed and she thought maybe she was in heaven. There were other people here, sitting, gazing, rolling around in the grass. All different clothes. Her eyes glassed over in happiness. She had to be dead.
"This is heaven, right? Or maybe it's hell?" she asked a man near by. Her mind was going to a million places, happy for everything to be over.
There was a heavy rain in the Cretaceous North American jungle, A thunder storm had made its presence here for the past seven hours. A herd of Triceratops could be seen grazing and drinking from a watering hole now nearly overflowing from the rain. The beasts were obviously nervous, Their herd had been getting stalked for weeks by a predator of immense and unusual size. Thunderous footsteps could be heard thought mistaken as thunder itself the Triceratops continued to graze until he was right upon them an alarm was sounded by a scout the herd began running, Buster was closing in on an old sickly female when right as he could feel his teeth scrape against the scaly triceratops flesh a bright light flashed. Buster awoke wondering if it was a dream, Wondering how he knew what a dream was.
He looked at the environment and knew something wasn't right the foliage was different, No familiar smells, he stood up only to find the trees were quite smaller here. Frustrated and trying to stand he lets out a roar sending birds flying away in terror. He stopped and looked in amazement. He had never seen a creature fly like that before other than insects. with a tear in his eye he spoke "How beautiful." and with a brief shock of terror he came to realize those were words he could never have said before then. He busted through the canopy of the trees, and began to walk.
peering through the edge of the grove of trees he saw building, Although he had no clue what they were. He saw a piece of wood hanging from a smaller building that read "Tavern" he stopped and looked down below his was a man staring directly into his eyes. The man frozen in terror began to point towards him, Buster simply replied with his own clawed finger too his mouth in a shhh type of motion. The man shook his head showing he understood and ran away.
Buster knew not what to expect of this place so he left through the mangled path of trees he had created and ventured out into an area with no trees, he lay down wondering what would become of him. A dinosaur is one thing to fear but one who is confused and has gained large amounts of intelligence? He knew that the people here would fear him like the dinosaurs back home and that made him angry he continued to lay in wait for any signs of life, Allowing his anger to diminish to just boredom.
He looked at the environment and knew something wasn't right the foliage was different, No familiar smells, he stood up only to find the trees were quite smaller here. Frustrated and trying to stand he lets out a roar sending birds flying away in terror. He stopped and looked in amazement. He had never seen a creature fly like that before other than insects. with a tear in his eye he spoke "How beautiful." and with a brief shock of terror he came to realize those were words he could never have said before then. He busted through the canopy of the trees, and began to walk.
peering through the edge of the grove of trees he saw building, Although he had no clue what they were. He saw a piece of wood hanging from a smaller building that read "Tavern" he stopped and looked down below his was a man staring directly into his eyes. The man frozen in terror began to point towards him, Buster simply replied with his own clawed finger too his mouth in a shhh type of motion. The man shook his head showing he understood and ran away.
Buster knew not what to expect of this place so he left through the mangled path of trees he had created and ventured out into an area with no trees, he lay down wondering what would become of him. A dinosaur is one thing to fear but one who is confused and has gained large amounts of intelligence? He knew that the people here would fear him like the dinosaurs back home and that made him angry he continued to lay in wait for any signs of life, Allowing his anger to diminish to just boredom.
He'd been in the middle of an experiment with a raging lightning storm going on outside, when suddenly the power cut out. The faint glow from Tungsten, a largish rat that made its home in Eric's lab coat, made an interesting night light though. Without thinking of the ramifications of introducing radiation--even if it was harmless in small doses--into the equation with Tungsten's glowing proximity, Eric continued to record his data and watch the experiment unfold.
When his sensors began to beep warningly, Tungsten actually leaped for Eric, his sharp claws grabbing hold of Eric's lab coat as the rat worked his way up onto Eric's shoulder. And then the little glass vials exploded--sending shards of glass everywhere. With a yell and a flash of lightning, Eric realized that his lab was suddenly airy. A small breeze entered from where a wall should have been...and now there was no lab at all.
He sat up, feeling grass beneath his hands, and then winced. Pieces of small shards of glass from his earlier experiment had embedded themselves into his hands--though fortunately not his face. Tungsten's tail was wrapped around his arm as the glowing rat collected itself and looked around. It chittered into the darkness....and that was when Eric had the feeling that something drastic had happened.
"Where are we?" He muttered, pulling a shard of glass from his palm. "Somehow, I don't think we're in DC anymore, Tungsten." The rat just chittered it's agreement.
When his sensors began to beep warningly, Tungsten actually leaped for Eric, his sharp claws grabbing hold of Eric's lab coat as the rat worked his way up onto Eric's shoulder. And then the little glass vials exploded--sending shards of glass everywhere. With a yell and a flash of lightning, Eric realized that his lab was suddenly airy. A small breeze entered from where a wall should have been...and now there was no lab at all.
He sat up, feeling grass beneath his hands, and then winced. Pieces of small shards of glass from his earlier experiment had embedded themselves into his hands--though fortunately not his face. Tungsten's tail was wrapped around his arm as the glowing rat collected itself and looked around. It chittered into the darkness....and that was when Eric had the feeling that something drastic had happened.
"Where are we?" He muttered, pulling a shard of glass from his palm. "Somehow, I don't think we're in DC anymore, Tungsten." The rat just chittered it's agreement.
Sterling had been making his way back through the town to check on Draeval, when he encountered a man who seemed to be terrified of something. The stranger saw him, recognizing him as someone who might be able to help, and then stammered something about a giant creature before running off. It didn't take long for Sterling to find the path of destruction and he was expecting the worst.
The trees overturned were not a good sight. Neither were the broken branches and the strange marks on the ground that he realized were footprints. Oddly enough, however, he saw no blood nor trail of corpses. "Holy Water," he murmured, "what kind of creature is this?" He had his crossbow in hand, loaded and ready to fire as he searched for the creature responsible for such a mess.
He didn't recognize the lump on the ground as the dinosaur responsible for the marks until he tripped over the tail and just barely avoided pulling the trigger. "What in the world...?!"
The trees overturned were not a good sight. Neither were the broken branches and the strange marks on the ground that he realized were footprints. Oddly enough, however, he saw no blood nor trail of corpses. "Holy Water," he murmured, "what kind of creature is this?" He had his crossbow in hand, loaded and ready to fire as he searched for the creature responsible for such a mess.
He didn't recognize the lump on the ground as the dinosaur responsible for the marks until he tripped over the tail and just barely avoided pulling the trigger. "What in the world...?!"
Feeling a small bit of pressure on his tail he jerked his head up and in a cautious tone he said "Who is there?" he jerked his head up and looked towards his left and noticed another one of those tiny creatures staring at him with an object pointed at him he asked in a less menacing tone "Excuse me sir, but would you happen to know where i might just be? Possibly you could also tell me what is going on? If not, i suppose you could end up as a small snack. I am quite famished my good man."
Nero started screaming when he saw the rat, the long, haunting screams of the truly insane as he stared and pointed, grabbing great handfuls of grass with his other hand and pulling them up, piling torn up dirt and sod into his lap. After just a moment, however, the mental patient switched gears and started throwing the lumps of ground at everyone, seeming to concentrate on the thin man from the 40's. "Keep your tentacles to yourself, you butterfly eating goomba! I'll stab you with a crayon!"
James kept his strides contained, long but even. He covered the ground at a pace that his considerable staff could not attempt to keep up with. Behind him, more than a dozen yards back, hurried several of the house people. Butlers, maids, a few of the cooking staff, and some of the general grounds staff all moving to try and keep up. James didn’t pay them any mind, they were only as important to this moment as arranging where these new travelers would be staying and starting them on the right path.
As he came to the clearing he reached up to brush back the long strands of hair that had fallen to cover his face. He needed them to see him, and he needed to clearly see them. This moment would define quite a bit, and he needed to know what he was working against. As James came into sight the travelers would have a bit of a spectacle to look at.
He was tall, standing just over six foot and slender as can be. He looked well put together, with his long brown trusses of hair pushed back behind his ears and clear of his face. But still the mop seemed to dip down along his forehead and give the man a younger appearance. His eyes were blue, but a shade of blue that looked almost like they would have been impossible. They were brilliant and dazzling, and seemed to have such a strong spark of life to them that they were hard not to be taken in by. He wore a two day old beard, just enough to pepper his skin but not too much as to make him look like the base men around here. There was something handsome and striking about him, be it the manner in which he moved which was elegant and faultless, or the essence of his spirit. Regardless, James Cunningham had always been regarded as one of the better hunts for many in this time.
If that was not enough, his clothing could speak so much more. In this time he was of the upper class and wore a black leather doublet that had gold silk beneath it. His hose were also gold silk and his breeches were black leather. There was no ruff, but a sword hung off his right hip and a small dagger rested behind the left close to his lower back. If one were to look at the sword they’d see that it was specially made with a gold guard, button, pommel, and quillon. While the rest of the grip was a deep obsidian color which had been specially made as well. The pommel instead of having a carving of his coat of arms had that of a wolf’s head with orange jewels in the eyes. The sword itself was a rapier and more than likely was meant only for show.
But that was enough of about James; his eyes took in each and every one of these people. The first to get his attention was the crying woman, then to each of the others taking them in turn. These were…the travelers. He’d expected something more. Leaning back he waved a maid up and pointed to the woman in the towel, she scurried off back towards the house and he returned his attention to them once more.
“I’ve been expecting you,” his tone was pleasant and near excited like a child’s, “You all have arrived safely, though I fear I’m missing one or two…” He tsked and tapped a finger on the pummel of his sword. “Regardless I can get you acquainted and settled while we wait for the remaining travelers. I suppose you have questions, and there will be time for that. Concerns as well, though I’m sure those are pretty much the same as the last travelers we had.”
He took a stride forward and offered a formal bow, “I am James Cunningham, Earl of Cornwall in the year of our Lord 1567. I assume by your appearances that you did not intend to travel today, no worries. We have rooms ready for you all and your servants will be glad to assist you.”
His eyes first went to Cici, “I have sent your’s to gather some clothes, I’m assuming you would like to dress at some point. Do try to contain yourself m’lady Rivers, all will be fine and you’ll feel much better once you’re dressed and fed.”
Then Silv caught James gaze, “You’ll find little use for your dagger here master Blueblade, and please keep your other knives to yourself as well.”
Then Nero who was now throwing things, he signed and gave a shake of his head. “I recall master Cutter your accident and while I would love to do something about that for you soon. However I have to ask that you refrain from throwing things at the rest of your companions.” He looked behind him and waved a few of the men over, “These nice gentlemen are prepared to secure you if necessary, so I do hope you’ll stop.”
And then it was Jack’s turn, “Ah yes, and the man who would be reanimated. It is a pleasure to meet you master Vindici. This was consecrated ground but after the reign of Bloody Mary you can imagine how much that has changed. You will be safe here.”
The pretty red head made him smile, “Ah m’lady Case, a marvel in your own right. This is neither, but more than likely akin to purgatory if you believe in such things. I understand what you were about to do, and I would hope that you put those thoughts out of your head for some time.”
And finally the good doctor, “No, neither you nor your pet are in the District of Columbia anymore my dear Doctor.” James stepped up and offered a hand to help Eric, if accepted he’d pull him up by his arm in an effort to avoid the glass.
“As you may well know, you have traveled. You are not the first to do so, and you shall not be the last. I cannot tell you the cause, I cannot tell you the means. I can say that no one from before has been able to answer those questions. They have in their own ways made it home, but the problem is ongoing. While you are here, you have food, beds, and of course care. Being not of this time…and for many of you far enough out of it that your manners are in serious disrepair, I have arranged a full staff for you. My hope is to integrate you into society smoothly. Now, for those that need immediate attention there is staff here to help. For the rest of you…there is a grand dinner waiting. I figured we’d much better get acquainted in the house as opposed to the rain.”
The rain? Oh yes, at that moment the thunder would crack and the skies would open. It was as it should be again, with rain and lightning.
As he came to the clearing he reached up to brush back the long strands of hair that had fallen to cover his face. He needed them to see him, and he needed to clearly see them. This moment would define quite a bit, and he needed to know what he was working against. As James came into sight the travelers would have a bit of a spectacle to look at.
He was tall, standing just over six foot and slender as can be. He looked well put together, with his long brown trusses of hair pushed back behind his ears and clear of his face. But still the mop seemed to dip down along his forehead and give the man a younger appearance. His eyes were blue, but a shade of blue that looked almost like they would have been impossible. They were brilliant and dazzling, and seemed to have such a strong spark of life to them that they were hard not to be taken in by. He wore a two day old beard, just enough to pepper his skin but not too much as to make him look like the base men around here. There was something handsome and striking about him, be it the manner in which he moved which was elegant and faultless, or the essence of his spirit. Regardless, James Cunningham had always been regarded as one of the better hunts for many in this time.
If that was not enough, his clothing could speak so much more. In this time he was of the upper class and wore a black leather doublet that had gold silk beneath it. His hose were also gold silk and his breeches were black leather. There was no ruff, but a sword hung off his right hip and a small dagger rested behind the left close to his lower back. If one were to look at the sword they’d see that it was specially made with a gold guard, button, pommel, and quillon. While the rest of the grip was a deep obsidian color which had been specially made as well. The pommel instead of having a carving of his coat of arms had that of a wolf’s head with orange jewels in the eyes. The sword itself was a rapier and more than likely was meant only for show.
But that was enough of about James; his eyes took in each and every one of these people. The first to get his attention was the crying woman, then to each of the others taking them in turn. These were…the travelers. He’d expected something more. Leaning back he waved a maid up and pointed to the woman in the towel, she scurried off back towards the house and he returned his attention to them once more.
“I’ve been expecting you,” his tone was pleasant and near excited like a child’s, “You all have arrived safely, though I fear I’m missing one or two…” He tsked and tapped a finger on the pummel of his sword. “Regardless I can get you acquainted and settled while we wait for the remaining travelers. I suppose you have questions, and there will be time for that. Concerns as well, though I’m sure those are pretty much the same as the last travelers we had.”
He took a stride forward and offered a formal bow, “I am James Cunningham, Earl of Cornwall in the year of our Lord 1567. I assume by your appearances that you did not intend to travel today, no worries. We have rooms ready for you all and your servants will be glad to assist you.”
His eyes first went to Cici, “I have sent your’s to gather some clothes, I’m assuming you would like to dress at some point. Do try to contain yourself m’lady Rivers, all will be fine and you’ll feel much better once you’re dressed and fed.”
Then Silv caught James gaze, “You’ll find little use for your dagger here master Blueblade, and please keep your other knives to yourself as well.”
Then Nero who was now throwing things, he signed and gave a shake of his head. “I recall master Cutter your accident and while I would love to do something about that for you soon. However I have to ask that you refrain from throwing things at the rest of your companions.” He looked behind him and waved a few of the men over, “These nice gentlemen are prepared to secure you if necessary, so I do hope you’ll stop.”
And then it was Jack’s turn, “Ah yes, and the man who would be reanimated. It is a pleasure to meet you master Vindici. This was consecrated ground but after the reign of Bloody Mary you can imagine how much that has changed. You will be safe here.”
The pretty red head made him smile, “Ah m’lady Case, a marvel in your own right. This is neither, but more than likely akin to purgatory if you believe in such things. I understand what you were about to do, and I would hope that you put those thoughts out of your head for some time.”
And finally the good doctor, “No, neither you nor your pet are in the District of Columbia anymore my dear Doctor.” James stepped up and offered a hand to help Eric, if accepted he’d pull him up by his arm in an effort to avoid the glass.
“As you may well know, you have traveled. You are not the first to do so, and you shall not be the last. I cannot tell you the cause, I cannot tell you the means. I can say that no one from before has been able to answer those questions. They have in their own ways made it home, but the problem is ongoing. While you are here, you have food, beds, and of course care. Being not of this time…and for many of you far enough out of it that your manners are in serious disrepair, I have arranged a full staff for you. My hope is to integrate you into society smoothly. Now, for those that need immediate attention there is staff here to help. For the rest of you…there is a grand dinner waiting. I figured we’d much better get acquainted in the house as opposed to the rain.”
The rain? Oh yes, at that moment the thunder would crack and the skies would open. It was as it should be again, with rain and lightning.
Cici felt ill, the moment she pulled on the robe. It was enough for now, but watching the others she couldn't help but wonder if she had gone insane. She certainly hoped so, it was the only logical explanation. The only thing that made sense. She took a few steps back as Nero began to throw grass, yelling. She was frightened of him, her heart racing even harder now.
When the handsome man addressed her, she didn't quite feel up to yelling at him, tears still rolling down her cheeks punctuated by shuttering hiccoughs every couple of minutes. She listened as she was addressed, and took to looking at each face in turn as they are addressed. She attaches a colour to each name, as to try and remember them.
When the sky opened she whimpered, wondering what her daughter was doing. Was it raining there too?
When the handsome man addressed her, she didn't quite feel up to yelling at him, tears still rolling down her cheeks punctuated by shuttering hiccoughs every couple of minutes. She listened as she was addressed, and took to looking at each face in turn as they are addressed. She attaches a colour to each name, as to try and remember them.
When the sky opened she whimpered, wondering what her daughter was doing. Was it raining there too?
Silv frowns "I got pulled from a well paying job..." He sheathed his weapon and frowned "Miss, don't cry...." He looked to the man "How do you know the name I gave myself? I've never met you before...." He shook his head "There is no heaven, hell, or purgatory." He looked to the glowing rat "Quite a pet... I'd assume that's not safe to eat."
He ignored the mad man, figuring it best to for now and Jack as he had no idea what he was or whether it was good to even notice him.
He ignored the mad man, figuring it best to for now and Jack as he had no idea what he was or whether it was good to even notice him.
There was a strange moment as Nero looked at the man that addressed him, then rose, perfectly mimicking the man's posture and body language, even the cadence of the Earl's voice. "Your Lordship is quite the learned man, and I believe that you have us at a rather large disadvantage, not the least of which being your rather radiant crown of ants."
Turning towards the manor, Nero walked steadily, ignoring the rain until he was very nearly indoors, at which point his face cracked open into childlike wonder as it tilted to the sky, his mouth opening for a moment to catch a few raindrops before he started to twirl in circles once again. "It's raining, it's pouring, the old man is snoring!" It was almost as if Nero, who spent most all of his time restrained and indoors, recognized that he might not have the opportunity to be out of doors again, and not in the rain either.
Turning towards the manor, Nero walked steadily, ignoring the rain until he was very nearly indoors, at which point his face cracked open into childlike wonder as it tilted to the sky, his mouth opening for a moment to catch a few raindrops before he started to twirl in circles once again. "It's raining, it's pouring, the old man is snoring!" It was almost as if Nero, who spent most all of his time restrained and indoors, recognized that he might not have the opportunity to be out of doors again, and not in the rain either.
Jack rarely showed anger openly; partially because his enemies could pick up on his state of emotional vulnerability and act against him, and partially because he rarely grew angry at the little misfortunes which characterized his life. Someone knowing that he was a reanimate, and openly declaring his reanimate nature to others? That was about three miles past the point where Jack drew the line. Now he was seriously put off his normally blasé demeanor, and it showed. Few people knew about his reanimate status, and most of them worked for necromancers trying to destroy him.
"Hey mac, I've had enough of bumping gums, let's get some grub," he grumbled.
It was too early to jump to violent conclusions, but Jack knew well enough that he wasn't here by accident, nor was he here on a holiday. He'd keep a close eye on everyone to be sure, but his first priority was to get something to eat; he had been drinking in Vernon's because liquor was his biggest food group and it had been brunch, lunch, and dinner for today. He clutched the cigar box to his chest and jaunted after his host towards the supposedly safe cathedral. Every gut instinct told him that he was walking into more trouble than he needed, but he couldn't exactly wave down a taxi back to 1945 and he wanted a roof over his head for the night, so he pressed onward.
"Hey mac, I've had enough of bumping gums, let's get some grub," he grumbled.
It was too early to jump to violent conclusions, but Jack knew well enough that he wasn't here by accident, nor was he here on a holiday. He'd keep a close eye on everyone to be sure, but his first priority was to get something to eat; he had been drinking in Vernon's because liquor was his biggest food group and it had been brunch, lunch, and dinner for today. He clutched the cigar box to his chest and jaunted after his host towards the supposedly safe cathedral. Every gut instinct told him that he was walking into more trouble than he needed, but he couldn't exactly wave down a taxi back to 1945 and he wanted a roof over his head for the night, so he pressed onward.
Eric accepted James' help up, grateful for the fact he didn't clasp to his injured hand. "Thank you, sir. And getting out of this rain would be great." His lab coat had quickly become drenched with the onslaught of the rain, though he caught the muttered comment about Tungsten's edibleness. He sent the guy a glare.
"He's radioactive, so no, he wouldn't be good to eat." He wasn't going to say that the radiation would not be harmful enough to make anyone reconsider. But Eric swooped down to pick up the rat, grimacing as claws rivaled with glass shards in his hands. "So uh, 1567. I must have knocked myself out colder than I thought," he said as a half joke. But Tungsten chattered at him and Eric flinched away. "I know, Tungsten. I know."
"He's radioactive, so no, he wouldn't be good to eat." He wasn't going to say that the radiation would not be harmful enough to make anyone reconsider. But Eric swooped down to pick up the rat, grimacing as claws rivaled with glass shards in his hands. "So uh, 1567. I must have knocked myself out colder than I thought," he said as a half joke. But Tungsten chattered at him and Eric flinched away. "I know, Tungsten. I know."
Sterling stumbled back when the dinosaur beneath him rose up. "Ah uh..." he paused, unsure whether to be amused or terrified. "Um, you're in England, year 1567. What are you? How did you get here?" He'd known that James was up to something, but he highly doubted this was what the Earl had in mind. And he still hadn't lowered the crossbow--not a whole lot anyway. "I would make a horrible snack," he added.
Vivienne's grin started to fade as the man before her started addressing each person, her eyes lingering on him as he had on hers. It was an odd sensation to still be alive and well with her thoughts twisting and turning, trying to figure out what was this man actually trying to say. They were in 1567 and Vivienne shook her head in disbelief. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, pushing her red hair out of her face. Looking down at her clothes, Vivienne seemed embarrassed. Her pink tank top stood out the most, the dirt clearly seen. Her jeans were a little cleaner, but not as clean as she had hoped to be. She opened her mouth to speak but quickly closed it again. She was a smart woman not be asking questions when he just stated there was a time and a place for that. Vivienne didn't know how to react to such a man.
She shook her head again, frowning. Following close behind James Cunningham, distraught by what he had said. The rain was coming down harder now, as they made their way across the lawn. She could see the gold building in front of her and her face made an 'O' look. In awe, Vivienne thought about what life would be like now that she had a home. It was going to very different, but she was saddened and a little angry that her life wasn't at an end. Her eyes flicked back towards the others, thinking they could read her mind. Suddenly, her stomach growled and ached at the mention of food, hoping to have at least a little something before going into why they were here and what had happened.
"Why are you helping us, Mr Cunningham? I mean, I understand that this is not our time but... How did you know we were here..." She paused for a second, choosing her words carefully. "I guess what I'm trying to say is thank you.." Vivienne's mouth twisted, she wasn't the one to give out thank yous normally.
She shook her head again, frowning. Following close behind James Cunningham, distraught by what he had said. The rain was coming down harder now, as they made their way across the lawn. She could see the gold building in front of her and her face made an 'O' look. In awe, Vivienne thought about what life would be like now that she had a home. It was going to very different, but she was saddened and a little angry that her life wasn't at an end. Her eyes flicked back towards the others, thinking they could read her mind. Suddenly, her stomach growled and ached at the mention of food, hoping to have at least a little something before going into why they were here and what had happened.
"Why are you helping us, Mr Cunningham? I mean, I understand that this is not our time but... How did you know we were here..." She paused for a second, choosing her words carefully. "I guess what I'm trying to say is thank you.." Vivienne's mouth twisted, she wasn't the one to give out thank yous normally.
Starts off before the Earl can respond, his mind on other things. He pulled off his shirt once he slipped inside, wanting to let the cloth items dry. Sheathes were sewn into his shirt's inside pockets, His scars still visible on his chest, remnants of his training.