The Cat in the wall (or, rather, the stains that seem to suggest its eyes and wide grin) seems a little less distinct.
In the hallway, Mr. Henry Madden, Mr. Griffin Paisley (and his niece, Integra Wingate), Mr. Harrison March, and Mr. Achilles Johnson (who has a note pad out and is taking notes) are gathered around the curious stains on the wallpaper, while the rose-things scrap feebly at the closed and locked door to the Rose Garden Suite.
"So.. it seems the way out is the way forward," Griffin suggests, trying to look stoic for Integra's sake. "Which.. may be through the Rose Garden, if not the front doors."
"Well then, what about Queen Alice?" Achilles pursues. "Is she Queen for life, or maybe I should say, death? Does she have a King, and if so, what's his role in this? And does she have any checks on her authority, like Parliament, or perhaps a Prime Minister we could ask to intervene on our behalf?"
"The must be a way out of here quickly, right? We were able to get here fast," Harrison frets.
"In answer to your questions," the Cat says, his voice sounding a little raspy, and definitely quieter, "'Well, what then?' 'Quite possibly.' 'No, and not applicable.' 'Only what Wonderland imposes.'"
"And to you," the Cat says, turning (?) toward Harrison, "'Yes, but it's the way your host wants you to take, and I wouldn't advise it.'"
"Wonderland? How can Wonderland impose any manner of restriction upon a Queen," Achilles says more rhetorically than not. "It's a place. Admittedly, a very daft sort of place."
"I'm allergic to death," Harrison claims. "Plus, death isn't fashionable. It's just so, so, grim."
"Oh wise stain," Griffin says. "Which way would you suggest we go, if you could suggest such a thing - which I am not suggesting you could or should, but if such were a theoretical happenstance would you point us back to the door, the mirror or the rose garden as the most expeditious route to our future?"
"Wonderland has its rules," the Cat claims. "It's just that it tends to forget them now and again, and change them to suit its mood."
*** Note to GW: Move responses up next to questions!
"That depends on whether you see our future as courtiers of this revenant Queen Alice, or happy and well in the real world," Achilles points out philosophically.
"Well, I don't know about you two, but I don't particularly want to spend the rest of my existence hopping about," Harrison says as he puts his hat back on. "Even if it's more interesting than accounting."
"We must deal with the underlying situation, Harrison," Griffin points out. "Otherwise it may keep happening. How would you ever be able to shave again knowing that your reflection is holding a razor to your neck? Either way... hairiness will occur."
The reporter startles at Griffin's comment. "I think... I've just hit upon a plan for dealing with those rambunctious reflections of ours, should we encounter them again."
"Griffin has it exactly!" the Cat proclaims. "Dear Mr. Johnson, you are a most diligent note-taker, and I'm sure you've recorded the essentials already. Given your investigative abilities, I'm sure you will dig up whatever secrets this place has to hide."
"You'll sing a different tune when you start laying eggs Griffin," Harrison points out.
The stain in the wall is looking even less distinct. The bird-song is almost competing with the Cat for volume now.
"That end would be leonine, and I'm certain that lions are not oviparous," Griffin notes, hoping Integra doesn't understand all of that. No need to give her the giggles now.
Achilles beams to the Wallpaper-Cat. "Of course a little hint or two never hurts," he suggests. "If there's something you could tell us about Queen Alice's next move, we might be able to avoid it better..."
"Hm. Can't the Queen move in any direction in chess? I fear her next move could be anything," Harrison points out.
"A Cat may see a Queen," the Cat says, "but not here and now. Her involvement here is indirect."
"Depends on whether she's a White Queen or a Black Queen, she might be a Queen of entirely another suit!" Mr. Johnson points out.
"And weren't you and her once friends?" Harrison asks of the cat. "What happened between you two?"
As the cat begins to fade out, Achilles pursues him with questions. "And do you have anything you'd like to say to the Daily News's loyal readers, Cat?"
"To your readers?" the Cat repeats. "Hmm. What would be some good advice? Ah, I know. Mind the rabbit holes. You never know what could be at the bottom."
Achilles scribbles this down obligingly.
"And as for the Queen," the Cat says, "she might have a Cat, but why would I know anything about that? I'm but a humble stain in the wall."
"Typical cat, contrary," Harrison quips.
"Pussycat, don't go away!" Integra pleads, as she digs through the pockets of her apron, finds a colored wax marker, and tries to outline the stain, to make it more distinct. "Won't you tell us where we need to go?"
"Where, indeed, should anyone go?" the Cat whispers, fading away despite Integra's colorful efforts. "That's a very deep question indeed. Maybe you should ask the seller of knickknacks over there, since he claims such affinity with hares."
And with a quiet whispering "meow," the stain is just a stain. Well, and some crayon scribbles.
"Plausible deniability," Achilles explains to Harrison. "I get it a lot as a newspaper reporter. These foreign muckabobs want us to know something, but they don't want it on record as they're the ones who told us."
"Hmm, interesting," Griffin notes, looking to March. "What is the.. oh, I see!" He grins. "Always puns. The cellar."
"The cellar," Harrison deduces. "Rabbits burrow. So do hares. So, we go underground. There should be drain access to the storm sewers down there, I think. And it would be less exposed than out on the street. I don't like being exposed. Probably comes with military training about watching your back. I'm sure it has nothing to do with hares."
"As for puns ... does that make the cat the chief Pundant?" Harrison asks.
"We should go back through the snug room," Achilles suggests. "I have a theory on how to deal with our reflections... We can strike at them with their own weapons!"
"I'd rather not see them again if it all the same to you. The cat hinted at the cellar, so we should go that way," Harrison opines.
There's a thump at the door to the Rose Garden Suite. A thin, hair-thin vine slowly creeps its way through the keyhole, then spirals around in a little curlique, wriggling slowly, intently.
The reporter continues, "Once we do so, if it's anything like what happened with Integra's reflection, we may find some interesting things left behind that may aid us. Besides..." He looks over at Griffin meaningfully. "If there's a chance we can see our photographer's niece out of this mess safely, perhaps the mirror may still offer some kind of aperture back to the real world."
"Oop, the flowers are restless. I think we had better move before we can never leaf again," Harrison quips. The man follows that with a frown. "Did I really say that?"
"I'm not sure it was what brought us here in the first place," Griffin notes, and looks to Integra. "And I'm not sure I'd want her left alone with our reflections in the real world either."
"Yes, yes you did," Achilles says with a groan. He draws his umbrella and stands ready to interpose, should the door burst open. "Quickly, down the staff stairs! If there's a cellar access, it should be there."
"Right, well, down we go!" Harrison declares, then darts right for the stairs!
The reporter, no longer holding onto Madden, takes up a defensive position. "Move, or these roses will wrap their sweet, sweet thorns around your neck!" he barks to the others.
"Yes, let us descend," Griffin notes, taking his niece's hand. "A Rose by any other name and all that.."
"Not going by the roses, thanks! I've seen enough of them today!" Harrison quips as he heads for the farther stairs.
Madden looks confused for a moment, looking this way and then that, then dashes straight for the closer stairs, after Griffin and Integra.
Catching sight of Griffin and Integra going down the staff stairs, Achilles guards the retreat.
Just then, there's a click, as the vines seem to have made it ... and the door swings open, as vines spill out into the corridor. The slow, shuffling plants can't hope to keep up with the fleeing pub patrons, surely.
The reporter exhorts the others to get down the stairs as quick as they can, wielding his umbrella as a defense.
Two of the rose-maidens blow kisses at Griffin and Madden, and it looks as if Madden is in danger of being snared by their perfume-laden embrace ... but with a flick of his umbrella, Achilles waves away the heavy aroma, sparing Madden's mind! Alas, in doing so, he leaves himself momentarily open, as a thorny vine-whip shoots out from the head rose-maiden, splitting into smaller strands and wrapping around his wrists, ankles, and neck. Fortunately, he's fully-clothed, fresh from a funeral, with a nice, starched collar and his trusty overcoat, or that would draw blood for sure!
"Argh! Rooted!" yelps the reporter. He struggles mightily, trying to slash with the pointy tip of his umbrella at the vines.
Madden grabs a vase from the stair railing and tosses it at the tangling rambling Rose. "Aha! How do you like THAT? And I've got MORE of your precious little brethren ... er ... sistren right here, at my mercy! Let go or I'll ... uh ... deflow-- NO! No, that's not the right word at all. I'll DEFOLIATE them! So ... uh ... THERE!" Sadly, the Rose is most unimpressed, and the vase makes no impression on her (it?) either.
"Oh dear!" Griffin says at the floral attack. He draws the bottle of Tartarus Tipple from his pocket and threatens, "Let us go, or be treated to a hot toddy you won't soon forget!"
"Never fear, they may grow the roses awfully clingy in this part of England," Achilles yells as he slashes at the vines. "But a man knows how to brush off unwanted advances! Get Integra below stairs quickly, Griffin!"
Fortunately, Achilles needs no help from Madden, as he manages to snap enough of the hair-thin vines away to weaken the whole. In short order, he is free again, but with lots of little prickly, squirming vines falling from the folds of his overcoat.
"Back, you red-clad hussies, or my friend will show you a hot time on the town!" Achilles yells.
The Roses seem to be visibly shaken by the threat to use the bottle, but at Achilles' further agitation, two of them simply fall to pieces -- literally. The sight of it, given their quasi-humanoid appearance, is more than a little unsettling. That leaves just one of the rose-maidens intact, but quivering momentarily at the threat.
"I've heard of women being putty in a man's hands," Griffin asides to Achilles. "But.. mulch? Your reputation is frightening, old friend."
"This is not the kind of ladykiller I'd always imagined I'd be when I got back from Afghanistan," Mr. Johnson mourns.
"No need to further menace that shrinking violet," Achilles says quietly to the others. "Let's get a move on."
Before the rose-maiden can recover, the foursome dash down the stairs, while presumably Harrison is doing the same on the other flight of stairs at the opposite end of the building. One can only hope he hasn't run into any trouble, being all alone by himself like that....
Meanwhile, coming down the other flight of stairs, Harrison sees a woman dressed all in red, gasping, and looking about to swoon on the landing. No, it's not Miss Gardner, despite the similar choice in dress color. The lighting appears to be poorer on this floor, but especially odd is that the mirror hanging mid-landing is almost smoky-dark, only dimly reflecting the room's contents.
From the shadows, a cane snaps out, its sharp eagle-head top coming down on Harrison while his attention is diverted for only a moment. However, something must catch his attention out of the corner of his eye, for with seemingly acrobatic reflexes, the pawnshop owner manages to bring his own cane up to parry the blow harmlessly. Harrison's sneering attacker advances from the shadows, his black top-hat slightly askew and his bow-tie crooked, as he twirls the tip of his mustache with one gloved hand. "Running away, are we? Like a frightened rabbit?"
"Oh!" the woman in red gasps, breathing heavily. "He ... he tried to ... RAVISH me, the foul brute!"
I consider it picking my battles," Harrison quips as his cane twirls once and then the tip snaps down onto the floor. "Run away, live to fight another day, and all that. Perhaps there is wisdom in a rabbit, eh? Certainly better manners." And given the insanity of this place he does something he wouldn't do in normal England. He raises his revolver and just tries to shoot the dastardly foe!
*** Note to GW: Amend above, because he SUCCEEDED in shooting the dastardly foe!
The shot rings out, rattling frames on the walls, and causing the girl to gasp and cry out. But more importantly, it causes the dastardly villain to look down at a gaping hole in his form, through which Harrison can see light on the other side. "Well, I guess I'm just not cracked up to be a proper villain," he says, giggling, as lines spread out, and shards of his form begin falling away. Then, he collapses in a cascade of broken silvered glass to the floor, each piece reflecting a fragmented image of a villainous brute in black, until it slowly melts away into nothingness.
"One, two, three... Where's Harrison?" wonders Achilles as he shepherds the others down the stairs. He pauses as they go by the third floor, hearing a shot ring out, then breaks into a run out into the hall. "Number four's on the other side. To arms!"
"My hero!" the woman cries out, as she rushes over toward Harrison, heaving. Boy, she must be having trouble breathing. "Oh, how ever can I show my gratitude?" Meanwhile, rapid footsteps can be heard approaching. Downstairs, shouts can be heard. "Up there!"
*** Note to Greywolf -- Chest heaving! Not heaving. That's something else. Ewwww.
"Wait!" Griffin calls, too late. He's not about to take Integra towards a gunshot. "Let's keep going," he tells the girl, continuing down the narrow stairs.
"Indeed! Shatter in the face of justice for your villainous deeds; accosting a young lady is unpardonable," Harrison says before quickly turning to face the approaching woman. In normal circumstances he might have gone to her side ... but nothing here is as it seems ... so he ends up stepping backwards instead and executes a short bow. "No need, dear Lady. Any respectable gentleman would have come to your aid. Now if you will forgive me, I must dash."
"Oh! Um," Achilles says as he turns the corner to find Harrison in no evident danger. In fact he seems about to get the girl. "Please forgive my interruption. Carry on," he says, tipping his bowler hat to Harrison and the woman in red.
The lady seems ... reluctant to acknowledge any interruptions. She smothers Harrison with kisses.
"Dear girl, this is hardly proper!" Harrison squeaks out! He tries to politely, but firmly dislodge the woman from him and escape the kisses!
"Oh, how can you deny what we have, my hero, my Lancelot, my ... SUGAR-PUDDING-DUMPLING?" the woman gasps. "Stay with me!"
"Sugar... Pudding... Dumpling?" Achilles eyes Harrison, then the woman.
"Ah, er, well, I simply cannot. I have duties and a job," Harrison blurts as he tries to recover some manor of decorum, not to mention straighten is ruffled clothing. "Now please, I must be going..." His efforts to get away from this crazy girl become a little more ... insistent.
The reporter continues, stepping forward to try and help Harrison disentangle himself, "I am beginning to suspect that what she is trying to cook up with you, dear Harrison, is not entirely mutual."
"You're not a citizen of good old England, are you," the reporter presses the woman, trying to distract her from grasping at Harrison with questions. "Who are you? And what are you really here for?"
The woman pulls back, and momentarily looks pouty, until it turns into a grin. Somehow, in the struggle, Harrison has been relieved of his revolver, and it's now in her hand -- pointed directly at him. "You're a regular ANIMAL, you are!" She makes a seductive "growl," and her eyes flash either flirtatiously ... or crazily, depending on your point of view. (What with the gun, it leans heavily toward "crazy.")
"Madam, last I checked a mirror, I look quite human, thank you," Harrison replies as he tries to look completely unconcerned that she grabbed his gun. His movement is one to straighten his jacket ... except for the part his cane suddenly snaps out and tries to knock the gun from her hand!
"It's true, the most animal thing I've ever seen him do is wolf down a steak," Achilles adds. "Grisly."
The gun flies from the woman's hand. "Gah!" she cries, in most un-ladylike manner (consistent with her recent behavior, really). It sails right against a small shelf laden with knickknacks, and knocks over a big framed portrait of Princess Alice perched on the shelf. The portrait wobbles, and tumbles forward.
The reporter tenses, preparing to leap into action against the unexpectedly mettlesome minx, when Madden rushes by. "No-- Madden, be careful!" he yelps. "You don't know what she's got up her sleeve!"
Madden makes a mad dash for the gun. "I've got it! I've got it!" Then, the huge portrait falls over on him, with a crash. He falls to the floor. "I ... don't got it."
"His was not a face meant for a picture, alas," Harrison ends up remarking grimly.
"He was framed, just ask anyone," quips the reporter as he moves in carefully, preparing to try and wrestle the woman into a hold.
As the frame falls, the back of the frame smacks Madden, knocking him to the floor, while the melancholy face of Princess Alice (royal personage, not recently-deceased governess) gazes upon the room in a portrait-taken pose, even as the glass of the portrait reflects the hanging lantern from the ceiling, and the array of knickknacks. Then, the back breaks, and Madden's head comes crashing right through it. Fortunately, his hat takes the worst of the breaking glass, but he still takes a few scrapes.
The woman tries to use the distraction to make a wild attack against Harrison, screaming like a harridan, but to no avail against the defense of his cane and agile reflexes. Meanwhile, the stomping feet coming up the stairs are getting louder, closer.
The reporter comments as he rushes up to try and peel her off of Harrison and get her into a wrestling hold, "I say, she's rather stuck on you. Must be your animal magnetism."
"Madam!" Harrison blurts as he feds of a wild flurry of wailing arms, "This is really not proper!"
"Desist with your unladylike violence, we don't want to harm you," Achilles barks at the woman. "Again, who are you? And what do you want with poor Harrison?!"
"To bring him to his full potential!" the woman cries, laughing maniacally. "To bring him to his destiny!"
Achilles says dryly as he holds the woman back, giving Harrison a moment to grab the gun and recover his wits, "It's customary for a woman to marry a man before she begins trying to change him for the better."
"Becoming a rabbit is hardly an improvement!" Harrison growls.
Shadows cast on the stairwell wall hint that the owners of the tromping footsteps are perilously close to coming up to this floor. However, Achilles's action gives Harrison ample time to retrieve his gun.
Harrison's movement, though is a bit like a hare with how quickly he darts to and retrieves his gun. "I think we have more company coming, Old Sport," he calls to Achilles. "And since I am not the one to inflict harm on a lady, perhaps we should retreat?" He now aims his revolver at the woman Achilles is holding, and adds, "I've got her covered ... lets go!"
"Agreed," Achilles says to Harrison as he begins dragging the woman toward the corner. "I don't like leaving our friends unattended. Whomever you are, do I need to keep a firm grip on you or will you give me your word you'll be a good girl and come along quietly?" This last bit is laced with a steely tone of voice.
The woman grins. "You have my word that I'll be perfectly quiet. And I'll be PERFECTLY good."
The reporter frowns sternly at the woman, sensing her sly deception. "By which you mean to say, you won't give up your ambition of assaulting my friend. Harrison, get Madden, let's go." He keeps a grip on her, pulling back for the corner.
Madden sees the shadows coming up the stairs. He freezes, caught within the frame.
"Run! They're crazy!" Harrison suddenly blurts at the stairs. "They have guns!" And with that he shoots one shot partially down the stairwell to encourage those coming up to go back down!
"Good God, you could hit someone!" yelps Achilles as he pulls the woman toward the corner.
"Better them than us!" Harrison argues.
There's a shattering of glass on the stairwell, followed by ... raucous laughter. "We're on the right trail!" someone screams.
"Oh, right they are crazy," Harrison whimpers.
Right behind the one who shattered, more crazy people storm up the stairs. A woman with a heavily-painted face and in a ramshackle-looking green dress pounces on Madden, while a not-very-gentlemanly looking fellow with a monocle joins her; after all, Madden is an easy target, right at the top of the stairs, caught in a frame like that. Another not-gentleman squirms past them to rush over to tangle with Harrison. "For Queen Alice!" they squeal.
Amazingly, in the tumble of people over people, not a single one of the madfolk manage to land a successful blow, but now poor Madden has two crazed folk fighting over his frame, and more coming on up. Meanwhile, the woman in red tries to squirm free from Achilles' grasp, but he has her too well-secured.
"Never fear, we may be surrounded by reflections, but that only REFLECTS WELL ON US!" Achilles roars as he tries to swing the un-ladylike woman at the two on Madden. They're a big target collectively, he's bound to hit at least one.
Oddly enough, the lady in red is actually light enough that Achilles can pick her up and swing her as a makeshift weapon. Who would have thought? Certainly not these fellows, as they're quite caught off guard. A few cracks appear on one of the un-gentlemen, and on the lady in red as well, and they both seem to be stunned at the moment. The others, however, just whoop it up, as if this makes it all the more enjoyable.
Madden shakes himself out of his stupor, but not the frame. "Wha ... what's going on? Achilles, is that how you pick up women? I had no idea!"
"They're not people at all!" Achilles yelps. "They're just... Manifestations of some dark force trying to kill us! And you!"
"You're just now figuring this out?!" Harrison yells.
The reporter grumps. "Benefit of the doubt, old chap. Benefit of the doubt."
With the surprisingly light woman in his firm grip-- she didn't weigh anywhere nearly as much as she should have when he swung her around-- Achilles takes aim and then launches her at the gentleman who's showing some cracks. "Back away, the lot of you! We have no quarrel with you as long as you stop trying to attack us!"
With a crash and a tinkle of glass, the lady in red is no more, and neither is the bizarre "gentlemen!" The remainder appear to be shaken by this brazen display ... except for the lady in green, who only cackles all the louder, and snatches up some of the broken shards as a makeshift weapon before they melt away entirely. "I'm going to make a MUSTACHE on this picture!"
The reporter catches his breath, whipping his black and steel Paragon Imperial brolly into an en garde position after that heave of muscles.
Madden blinks, and holds up the frame around his head, so that his face is sticking out from Princess Alice's painted body. He makes a mimickry of the lady-in-green's expression, and when hers changes, matches it. He moves about, and pretends to be her reflection. For some reason, she seems quite enamored of this. She blushes, and starts preening herself in the "mirror." Then, she seems to see something on her face. She leans in close. Closer. Trying to get that thing off. Then ...
"BOO!" Madden shouts! The lady in green leaps back in fright, and shatters into countless pieces.
"Dear sir, I really have having to do this, but ... if I must be a hare, it'll be when I decide and not because I was killed," Harrison says as he raises his gun and fires at the remaining crazyperson.
The reporter winces. "Well, they had it coming for pulling on your hare," he quips.
Mirror fragments explode outward. The remaining reflections break into pieces, pierced by the bullet. Shards fly every which way, and start to melt away even as the startled survivors watch.
Worried about the woman in red's comment earlier about being an animal, Harrison rubs his left hand over his face ... probably to check for any changes. "We should go find Griffin and Integra before anyone else shows up. He's putty in that girl's hands ... so who knows what she will lead him into," he says.
Aside from a little bit of evening shadow, Harrison's face is smooth as ever. No fur, no whiskers, no buck teeth. All seems well for now, all things considered.
Slowly the reporter lowers his umbrella, seeing no more attackers. And then he looks over to the right, back where he came from. "You're right. This way! And you may want to watch your ammo, I don't know if bullets grow on trees in Wonderland... If they do, I imagine they'll be dum-dums."
"I have some in my pocket, no worries. But I will reload as we go. I don't want to be caught without a shot," Harrison replies and heads after Achilles.
The trip down the staircase is fortunately not interrupted further by shattering madmen (or madwomen), and at last the men find themselves returned to the back room behind the bar. It would seem that the continuing stairs down to the cellar are blocked, however, by some encroaching roots that most certainly were not there before.
Through the curtains leading to the main pub room, the shadow of a barkeep -- presumably Mr. Sullivan or his mirror evil twin -- can be seen calmly polishing glasses, while chairs and dishes and bottles fly about, crashing and smashing, accompanied by off-kilter laughter and shrieks.
In the entirely other direction, the door to the smoking room has been left open, and it appears that the double-doors out to Wentworth Street are propped open as well. A quick survey reveals that Griffin and his niece are peering warily out into the foggy night.
"I hope they weren't in the cellar. That doesn't look good," Harrison remarks rather worriedly.
The newspaper reporter heads down the stairs, keeping an eye out for signs of foul play having befallen the photographer and his niece. "Griffin! Integra!" he calls. He pauses at the ground floor landing, seeing the vines. "Think those grew up behind them, or did they try to find another route?"
"Let's hope they didn't go into the main room, that doesn't look like a pleasant scene out there," Achilles adds.
"I don't know," Harrison admits as he snaps his reloaded revolver shit. Five rounds fired tonight. Not bad, but he may require more. It seems like these people are fragile, so perhaps his cane will be enough most of the time. "Griffin!" he now calls out as well, "Where are you?"
To drive the point home, another stool goes sailing by. The bartender's silhouette calmly ducks. Something shatters.
"Harrison?" Griffin calls back, as loud as he dares, from the rear street entrance. "We're at the back door!"
This crowded store room is packed with spare ale barrels (full and empty), bottles, rags, serving trays, cups, mugs, bags of peanuts, cigar boxes, tobacco and papers, matches, and a few stacked stools. A curtained doorway to the south provides access to the main counter, while a door to the north leads to the private smoking room. Stairs lead down to the cellar, while another set of steep stairs provides an alternate, staff-only route to the rented rooms on the upper floors.
The cellar-choking vines rustle, slowly twining as if to just stretch out a bit.
The newspaper reporter frowns, then peers out into the smoking room, checking for ambushes on the way to Griffin and Integra.
That elicits a sigh from Harrison. "They are safe. Lets get out of this crazy place and find some place to hole up. I wonder if my shop exists in this world," he muses as he heads for the back entrance.
It would seem that, for the moment, the back room is relatively safe. The vines choking the cellar are unnervingly mobile for, well, vines, but they haven't launched out to tangle anyone yet. The mirrors reveal no one lurking on the other side, but they all look rather dim and smoky, requiring one to get up closer for a good look to be absolutely certain.
"Coast's clear," Achilles says as he brings up the rear. "Run into anything interesting on your way down?"
"Integra was doing well charming the vines," Griffin notes. "But it was slow going. So I captured a tiger and we came here to wait for you."
"Captured ... a ... tiger?" Harrison has to ask slowly.
The reporter quips, "By the tail?"
"Don't worry, it's safely in my pocket for now," Paisley notes. "The street is clear so far. No telling what's out there in the fog."
Integra proudly -- but quietly -- interjects, "He wrestled a tiger all by himself! Has YOUR uncle ever done something like that?"
"Don't be daft, Ace," Griffin chides. "If I'd done it that way, it would have hollered and drawn attention.."
Achilles asks more seriously, "Did you try uncovering the fireplace mirror? All the reflective surfaces I could see were rather dim... A sign we aren't looking into the real world anymore." He chuckles to Integra, "No, I can't say as my uncles ever did. More a bunch of layabouts."
"It's not polite to steal a poster," Harrison remarks to Griffin, though he sounds a bit distracted. "Excuse me for a moment; I think I see something we might be able to use..." And with that, eh slinks off towards the smoking room.
"I was more concerned with getting out," Griffin notes. "The sphinx is in there with the mirror, after all."
"Sphinx? The riddling sort? You'll have to elaborate a bit on that," Achilles says. He brings Griffin up to speed quickly-- nothing terribly unusual, we dealt with a pack of reflections all devoutly intent on releasing our 'destiny'.
Harrison finds the deck of playing cards on the shelf right where they've been for the longest, but something catches his eye about them now. In some way he can't readily explain to himself, they seem to have been imbued with Importance ... or Wonder.
"More the end-table sort, but the chairs could dangerous at this point," Griffin notes.
"Waste not want not," Harrison says as he takes the deck of cards and slips them into his jacket pocket. He'll figure out why they're useful later; but for now he heads back to the others. "Some rude lady called me an animal; and I had saved her from some dastardly man, too," he tells Griffin.
"When I spotted them, she was being a little overly grateful," Achilles adds with British understatement.
"I heard the gunshots, as did everyone else in the building," Griffin notes.
Integra's eyes go wide. "UncleGriffinyourreflectionisinthewindowwhenitreallyshouldn'tbeandinthemirroryou'reholdingabrokenbottleandlookit'srightthererightnowandIthinkit'sgoingtohityou!"
The photographer hops away from the window at the warning, and even tries to duck!
Harrison grabs a rather ugly statuette from the floor because, well, no one will miss it, right? He takes aim and throws it at the window with the bottle appearing in it, aiming roughly for the spot a person should be!
The ugly figurine hurtles through the window, shatters the glass, and flies on through. Outside, from Griffin's point of view, a figurine comes smashing right through the reflection of himself, then flies perilously close to his face! It sails on by, breaking on the cobbles. When he looks back, there's no sign of the reflection anywhere in the mirror. Instead, lying on the cobbles is ... a feathered bird mask?
Integra squeals. Further on inside the pub, the mayhem and crashing continues. The mayhem out here doesn't seem to have drawn any undue attention ... yet.
Naturally, Griffin picks up the mask to examine it.. but doesn't put it on. He remembers what the cat-stain said about Integra and the apron, and figures it is the same sort of thing.
The mask looks familiar. It looks like one of the elder Paisley's props from ages ago. Held in hand, it seems to tingle slightly.
Achilles reaches up to try and push Griffin out of the way-- but too late. "Our reflections must be out there!" he yelps. "Keep an eye on the windows."
"Looks like our happy selves are still about ... somewhere," Harrison says warily. He raises his cane, just in case. Bullets didn't do a lot to them last time after all.
"It's from the tea party, I think," Griffin mutters. For now, he packs into the camera case.
Harrsion keeps his guard as he heads slowly back towards the read exit to rejoin the others. "There are at least three more somewhere," he mutters.
The reporter pushes past Griffin, moving to the outside to make use of the other (as yet undamaged) window to try and spot their reflections. He keeps his umbrella out, open as a shield against projectiles that may come flying at them. "Keep your back to the wall," he advises.
"Did you deal with everyone that was on the stairs?" Griffin asks. "It may be wise to raid the kitchen for supplies before venturing further into the unknown."
"They're gone," Harrison informs Griffin.
Although the reflections are dim, Achilles can make out that the windows of the store-fronts present a much different image of London than it seems right here. He can see a cart rolling by, blood splattered on the cobbles, a few people lying about in the street, a woman silently screaming in a tattered dress, leaning against a man in an equally battered suit who looks about nervously, edging his way away from the pub and accompanying the woman. A bobby silently blows his whistle and runs down the street, truncheon in hand, toward some unseen threat.
The reporter adds, "There seems to be a limitless supply in the main room, however... I'd advise being careful about any further gunshots."
"Grisly... Did some kind of explosion happen?" the reporter murmurs.
Oddly, the woman reflected in the mirror looks familiar. It's the lady in red! And the man with her has a rather long mustache; would he have a different expression, he could probably past for a dastardly villain (just insert a mustache twirl here).
Whatever the danger is, it appears to be further down Commercial Street ... toward the front entrance of the pub, perhaps.
The reporter tenses. "Look at the reflections," he advises the others. "Some sort of bomb went off, or there's some sort of raving monstrosity still out there, that way." He gestures toward the direction the bobby went.
"Anarchists?" Harrsion asks as he moves out a bit more to look at the window reflections.
"We'd have to circle around towards the front to see," Griffin suggests.
"We'll have to look to be sure," Achilles says. He looks around for the reflections toward Harrison's pawn shop, in case there might be several threats.
Achilles adds to Griffin, "I think we're stuck in Borderland for the nonce. Do you want to stay here with Integra while Harrison and I check out whatever it is?"
"I daresay I'm not going to lead a child towards danger," Griffin notes. "I can take her and Madden 'round to the kitchen, and see what might be useful."
"What? Oh, right, I have a gun," Harrison says at the suggestion he and Achilles go look.
The reporter nods and goes to peek around the corner, as carefully and quietly as he can manage.
"Oh," Integra says. "That would be ever so nice. I never ate supper, aside from those nuts that nice lady gave me."
Harrison dutifully follows after Achilles, though he does keep some distance so as to not get in the way.
"Mind the windows," Griffin tells Madden, as he leads the way towards the private entrance to the pub. As a tenant, he of course has a key.
Using techniques from his old days in the Rifle Brigade, honed by later days of stalking unwary diplomats and Persons of Interest as a reporter, Achilles uses the back of his press badge (highly polished) as a makeshift mirror to see around the corner.
"Anything?" Harrison whispers.
Out in the street, around the corner, Harrison and Achilles can see two deranged men and a woman, their clothes all in tatters, hats punched through, and such, swinging stools around and laughing gaily.
"Wooooooo! I'm a GHOST!" one shouts, to the others' delight.
"I can only guess what they're doing is having an effect on people in the real world," Achilles says to Harrison, holding the mirror so he can see.
"Hm. Er," Harrison offers as he peers in the makeshift mirror. "I suggest we don't bother them."
"But if we don't... They're hurting innocent people in the real world," the reporter says grimly. He tenses, clearly planning to rush them.
The reflected images are less friendly, as seen in the smoky windows. A mad Madden, an angry Achilles and a horrible Harrison rush about. Harrison fires his revolver, hitting the bobby. Madden has a shaving blade that he threatens a fallen woman with, cackling gleefully. Achilles takes notes, then stabs a poor man with his pen in the shoulder, before calmly striding on. It isn't as if no one tries to stop them. A burly man rushes up, braving the "ghostly" stools, to slam Achilles's evil twin with a pry-bar, but it does NOTHING. No shattering, not even a crack. It's as if the mirror twins are invincible.
"But but ..." Harrison says; so perhaps calling him rabbitty is a bit appropriate.. "Right, well. I'll protect your back then. At least they break easily."
Oddly, the three madpeople in the street, on THIS side do not appear in the reflections on the other side. The furnishings they wield seem as if held by ghosts in the reflected world.
Gritting his teeth, the reporter charges out to deal with the crazed madmen! These first... Then their reflections, besmirching their names!
And Harrison follows, cane held more like a club! He'll save the gun for the windows...
As Harrison moves along, he can't help but notice in a reflection in a nearby window ... there's a deck of cards moving along, as if held by ghosts, in the reflected world ... right about where he should be in this one.
Zahnrad says, "'Huh, can I turn and hit that window with my cane?"
The first madman is totally caught off guard as he's too busy swinging his stool while looking in the reflection in a store-front window. He is easy prey for a blow with Achilles's umbrella, but it seems to merely crack his surface a bit, not to shatter him entirely.
Harrison's path veers off, heading right towards the window with the floating card deck. Maybe this will be like Griffin's attacker and so he raises his cane and strikes hard at the window!
"Cease your vile actions, twisted shades!" yells Achilles as he swings, pushing the crazed 'gentleman' off balance.
As Harrison rushes the window, he can see the floating card deck rushing toward him as well. In fact, it's clear that both the deck in the window AND the deck he's carrying must be the very same deck (only mirror images of each other).
And that's when Harrison skids to a halt. It's just him. But if the cards are in the reflection maybe if he used them and threw them here where he sees their dopplegangers in the windows, he'll hit one.
The reporter calls to Harrison, "Grab one of their weapons away from them! We can use those to attack our reflections."
Harrison moves with grace through the darkened street. As his steps fall, he taps the card deck against his palm and slides out three. He is grabbing them between his forefinger and thumb soon thereafter. And it's only moments after that, that his hand snaps out firmly. Perhaps he's learned a bit about card games at the local pubs because the deal is perfect. The three cards glide through the air towards the spot that Mirror-Achilles stands. As they close on their unseen target, the three cards span out; promising a multi-point hit, if they hit at all!
The cards hit with far more solidity than is warranted for a deck of playing cards, but somehow they find their mark ... and by the twisted rules of Wonderland, what seemed impervious to bullets in the Real World is apparently vulnerable to paper that exists in both? In the reflected world, the wicked version of Achilles shatters into countless pieces. Over on this side, instead of three cards falling to the street ... there are four. The fourth one lands face-down, and is obviously from a different pack than the rest. The three cards that were just thrown, however, mysteriously fade away, leaving only the one.
"My partner's the wild card in the deck," the reporter quips. "You'd better clear out before we have to DOUBLE DEAL on you!"
Deciding to take down his mirror self next, Harrison darts towards where the reflection should be, only pausing to sidestep the card still laying on the ground where Mirror-Achilles was. The first three fingers of his right hand rap on top of the card deck, sliding out another set of three. "Lets see if my luck holds. Three of a kind is always a nice hand," he says as he snaps out another barrage of three towards his mirror's position.
"Don't stop with a pair, let's clear a full house!" retorts Achilles.
The cards slam into mirror-Harrison like bullets -- but prove to be far more effective than the real thing, at least as far as the reflected world is concerned. Once more, the thrown cards fade away from this reality, leaving only their reflections on the other side -- but on this side, something small falls to the ground -- and mirror-Harrison is shattered and gone.
A furry rabbit mask, similar in style to the bird mask that appeared earlier, flops down on the ground, where "mirror-Harrison" was on the other side.
Meanwhile, the mad folk swinging stools around realize that they aren't alone. They cry out angrily, and charge Harrison and Achilles, but their swings go wild and fail to meet their mark, dodged or deflected via umbrella.
Surprisingly, one of the stools changes course mid-air, and gets past Achilles' defenses!
Harrison, alert now, perhaps reflecting the mask that lays on the ground ducks in time and the woman's wild swing goes right over his head. "Madam, I do not want to do this, but you leave me little choice!" he tells her; perhaps implying that soon he'll be giving her the old what-for!
It's a solid blow, but Achilles' heavy overcoat takes some of the brunt of it. The rest of it just leaves him sore. It's evident that there's someone on the other side of that stool, to be sure.
"Madden must have grabbed it!" the reporter yells to Harrison. "Deal with him, I'll get these loony bin escapees!"
Still, despite his assertion, the reporter proves a little too put off his stride by the stool to land a solid hit on the two madmen that beset him.
The unseen wicked Madden and the two madmen gang up mercilessly on Achilles, battering him and bludgeoning him, leaving him bloodied. Harrison, meanwhile, has a much easier time of it, as the madwoman fails to connect even once. There's an advantage to having only one foe to worry about (and not invisible at that).
Rather beset, the reporter stumbles back against the wall, gasping for breath and sorely bleeding.
"God save the Queen," Achilles exhales clinging to consciousness bitterly. "And may He save me as well!"
"Naer-do-well fiend!" Harrison curses as he taps out three more cards. The woman is ... annoying, but Madden is deadly. He side-steps, trying to pull away from the woman; then snaps his right hand out, releasing three more cards towards the spot where mirror-Madden should be!
Fwip-fwip-fwip! As reflected in the street scene, there's a shattering of mirror-Madden. On this side, the cards are gone, and in their place, a big green hat with a price card stuck in the hat band flutters to the ground.
The reporter groans from where he stands, back to the wall, "Only... a madman... would wear a hat like that." He grins bloodily.
"I have forty cards, my cane, six rounds in my revolver, and I'm feeling lucky," Harrison growls at the madmen (and women) left! "So you might want to ask whether or not it is worth it to continue attack me and my friend. And I should warn you that I'm starting to like the sound of glass breaking..."
As if to reward him, there is the sound of glass breaking, as all three remaining mirror images shatter in unison. Somewhere within the building, more breaking glass can be heard as well.
"I'm starting to like it too," Achilles agrees as he slumps against the wall, collapsing to the ground.
The reporter struggles to pull himself up with a firm grip on his trustworthy umbrella.
"Oh thank God that worked. I was worried," Harrison says in relief. He collects the odd card from the former mirror-Achilles and the old rabbit mask once made from a masquerade mask, then heads towards Achilles. "I know you've been in war and faced down dignitaries with unwavering questions ... but I am afraid that your luck didn't hold out as well this time. But at least now you're extra scary looking,," he says, trying to lift his friend's spirits as he helps the battered reporter back to his feet.
"And here. Seems a card can save your life in these parts," Harrison adds as he hands over the ace of spades to Achilles.
Achilles chuckles as he leans on Harrison. "It only looks bad, I'll be right as rain once I've had a sit-down and a cup of tea. Let's hope Griffin and his niece have found the fixings in the kitchen." He tucks the card away in a pocket.
The rabbit-mask goes into an inside pocket of his long coat, leaving him free to now grab the hatter's hat. "I bet you a shilling they're in the kitchen having a tea party with Integra," Harrison quips. "Let's find them."
"You're on, let's go," the reporter groans as he limps along.
The reflections in the store front windows fade to black ... and then return again. Instead of the bloody scene of destruction, they can only see what little blood and destruction is on this side -- and Achilles and Harrison can also see their own reflections, perfectly normal, and NOT homicidal.
The reporter closes his eyes. "You realize, if we get back to the Real World... They're going to blame us for whatever our murderous mirror images were doing. It could reflect badly on us," he quips, unable to resist the pun.
"I've been thinking," Harrison remarks as they go, "That maybe becoming a hare isn't so bad. It might get the regulars of this world to ignore us. I don't think we'll survive long if every housewife in this world comes attacking us with a pan in one hand and a rolling pin in the other..."
"If you keep up the bad jokes, you can just limp your own way there," Harrison groans as he helps the battered man along.
Achilles and Harrison make their way back, taking the route along the street, rather than taking their chances cutting across the pub's main area. They go through the private entrance (Achilles has his own key), and make their way to the kitchen. The smell of rabbit stew greets them -- and inside, Integra, Madden and Griffin appear to be having a late supper.
"Oh!" Integra cries as she sees Achilles limping so. "Let me help!" She digs around in her pockets, and finds some scraps of cloth (how convenient!) and rushes over to try to bandage wounds.
Achilles chuckles, limping along the wall battered and bloodily to the back entrance to the inn. He retains enough presence of mind to check that it's the one Griffin and Integra must have taken. "Though... The reflections changed again, once they were all down, did you notice that? We can't see through to the real world anymore. The reflections must have been tying us to the real world somehow." He sniffs at the air. "Something smells good!"
"Good God man, what happened to you?" Griffin asks as soon as he see Achille's condition.
Integra keeps pulling more gauze out of her pockets. How much can possibly be in there? Achilles is starting to look well-bandaged, at least.
"Good news; the reflections of us are gone. And here, they left you a present, Madden!" Harrison quips as he enters, then tosses the hatter's hat at their odd companion. "The bad news is the citizens of this weird place sure gave Achilles a thrashing." He pauses, then sniffs the air and groans. "And you just had to cook rabbit?"
The reporter slumps into a chair and holds his limbs out for Integra, not noticing the overbandaging. "Oh... We split the work up when we found our rampaging reflections ruining our reputations in front of the inn," he explains. "I took the hits, Harrison here went in for the kill like a card shark."
"Er, here," Madden offers, dishing out a couple more bowls of stew. "Get some of this in you while it's hot. Griffin's nose approves -- it's just stew. It won't turn you green or anything."
Setting his bowl aside, Griffin notes, "Mrs. Sullivan was already cooking it. It will make you a bit more rapid reflex-wise." With his hands free, he starts examining the tins of meat more closely to see if any have healing qualities. "A hat.. did you find anything from your reflections?"
"A few things," Harrison answers rather vaguely as he collects a bowl of the stew and settles down to eat it anyway.
Achilles digs in with an appetite. He can definitely use the reflexes improvement. "Seems my evil twin was something of a card," he mumbles around the spoon.
"It's rather important that we all have what we need to identify ourselves as Wonderlanders," Griffin notes. "Just having the mask with me seemed to provide some verisimilitude in dealing with Mrs. Sullivan."
"So, I was thinking, as much as I don't like the idea ... you may want to put the mask on, Griffin. Same for me. If we look like we belong here, we might not get attacked so much," Harrison adds after a few bites of the stew.
"Hope you like your new hat," Achilles adds to Madden. Mm, this is good stew!
"And I think Griffin should go first," Harrison adds.
"We should finish our stew first," Griffin notes as he shuffles tins.
"Afraid?" Harrison asks.
"I've no idea how to eat it with a beak is all," Griffin claims.
"Peck things," Harrison answers helpfully.
"Eagles hunt rabbits you know," the photographer counters.
Harrison resumes eating his stew and mulling over the situation. "Rabbits have guns," he counter-counters between bites.
As Griffin examines the tins, the first one smells suspiciously like almonds. Arsenic? Or some sort of Wonderland equivalent. Oh, that one is NOT to be consumed. Next, when he pops the seal on a jar, there's a loud, rude, raspberry noise. By Griffin's best guess, that's exactly what will happen once it's consumed, too. Then ... arsenic again? Next, it's ... oh, wait, the label is legible now. "Cockroach Clusters." If this follows Wonderland logic, perhaps it grants the ability to cling to walls for a while.
After a moment, the reporter notices that he's starting to have trouble moving his limbs. "Er... Integra..." he murmurs.
"Oh, don't give the child a hard time, Achilles. I suspect she just wants her mummy," Harrison has to quip after seeing the state of the reporter.
The other tins contain a very hot and spicy candy (best not to be eaten -- but it could be thrown!), and the last "tin" appears to be some stashed hooch, with no better property than granting "liquid courage" to the consumer.
There's something curious about these tins, however, as Griffin observes them. If they were left in the pantry for a while, he gets the odd feeling that they MIGHT be a little different, the next time he comes to check on them (provided they're not consumed first).
"Oh!" Integra apologizes. "I ... uh ... I was amazed that there was so much that could fit in my pocket! I got carried away, I guess. I'm so dreadfully sorry, sir!"
"Nothing here that might heal you," Griffin notes. "Yet."
The reporter smiles a bit painfully and pats Integra on the head. "There's a good girl." He groans and leans back in his chair, having eaten a fair portion of the stew. That did hit the spot.
"So, do you think the masks will actually change us, or will they just make everyone treat us differently?" Harrison asks once he's finished his meal.
"Only one way to find out.. Madden, why don't you switch hats," Griffin suggests. He also removes the bottle of Tartarus Tipple from his pocket. "I think I should hand this off to one of you. March, you know how to handle a grenade, right?"
The reporter fishes up a card from his pocket and examines it thoughtfully. It's the Ace of Spades... But peering at it, he pronounces, "Ace of Brollies." He flashes the card to the others, then pins it into place on the front of his jacket with his press badge.
"Oh! That's a marvelous hat!" Madden exclaims, finally noticing the new headgear. He holds out his hands for it.
"Sure. I went through training before they decided to make me a quartermaster," Harrison agrees as he takes the bottle. "Plus I have lots of pockets in my jacket."He makes room for the bottle by fishing out the rabbit-mask and peering at it. "Old masquerade mask," he says, "Used it a few times back in the plays. It was pawned to my father, but since he had a time selling it, I ended up with it."
Achilles, meanwhile, looks a bit ... different. His complexion suddenly pales noticeably. His edges seem more defined. He starts to look like ... a very detailed drawing of himself?
"Oookay, so we will change. That's spooky," Harrison admits as he absently hands over the hatter's hat to Madden.
Griffin can't help but try to view Achilles from the side, after seeing similar oddness with the paper tiger.
"What's that?" asks the reporter, not having the advantage of a mirror.
Madden, only noticing the hat, puts it on, and at once his attire begins to look even more flamboyant than it was scant moments ago. He giggles. "A perfect fit!"
Mr. Johnson grins. "Well, it did come off your evil twin."
"Your turn, Griffin," Harrison prods.
After the deliberate effort, Griffin is rewarded with the startling realization that when he looks at Achilles edge-wise ... well ... he looks rather flat. But from any other angle, he looks as solid as ever!
"Well.. Integra, don't be afraid of what might happen next: I'll still be your uncle," Griffin promises, and then removes the 'bird' mask from his case and puts it on - but not before saying, "Now I see why your jokes fall flat so often, Ace."
+++ GM Note: Achilles Johnson has now gained the Card racial archetype. This bumps him up to being a 10 XP character. (His "Human Edge" is allocated as an Advance, to make room for the racial package.) He has the standard Card properties, such as "Soggy When Wet," "Flat ... Sort Of," "Luck of the Draw," and "Flammable." It is not wise to smoke! His Luck of the Draw card is the Ace of Spades; any time an Ace of Spades is drawn for him in initiative, it counts as a Joker.
+++ GM Note: Madden is now a Haberdasher. He gains the Arcane Background: Haberdashery. His Knowledge (Haberdashery) skill is now treated as the Haberdashery arcane skill.
The rather bandages-beset reporter gives Griffin an odd look, not having noticed any changes in his own appearance. He gets up slowly, using his umbrella as a prop. "What, because my well-meaning friends keep pushing them over?" he jokes.
"Uhm, Uncle Paisley?" Integra asks, uncertainly, "you're starting to look very ... feathery."
"He's always been a little fuzzy around the edges," Achilles quips.
"So, hm ... maybe I don't want to put this on," Harrison waffles as he watches horrors befall his friends. Poor Achilles has been pounded flat and Griffin ... is looking quite the fluff. His fingers now tap on the old rabbit mask nervously.
"Uhm," Integra fidgets. "Oh! The tea! I'll be right back." She goes to check on the heating teapot, then brings it back and starts serving tea to everyone. By Griffin's sense (and it seems all the sharper now!) the tea shouldn't do any harm.
"Feathery.." Griffin repeats, and then realizes that he should take off his coat before it gets ruined! He manages that before the wings appear, ruining his vest and shirt. His shoes and trousers suffer next, especially with the tail and all. "Awrk!" he complains. It was his best suit!
"Oh! I have my needle and thread! I can fix it!" Integra claims, but then she bites her lip and looks like she's not really at all sure.
Achilles shakes his head. "Now you are quite the sight," he says amusedly to Griffin. "A bird of paradise! In Wonderland. People will wonder."
"And maybe you should try taking it back off," Harrison suggests as he slowly scoots his chair further away from Griffin...
"Take it off?" Griffin squawks, and grabs his beak with hands turned to scaly talons.. and gives it a tug.
The reporter checks around the kitchen for some more traditional first aid supplies that might have been stashed against a cooking mishap, his bruised condition rendering him somewhat oblivious to Griffin's quandrary.
The beak is quite solid. It's like pulling his nose. Or his teeth. This isn't coming off without a great deal of pain involved -- or some sort of magic.
"Eh-heh," Harrison says nervously. "So, we get trapped in those bodies. Maybe that was a bad idea."
"No tea?" Integra asks of Achilles. "I have sugar lumps, too. We could have a tea party!"
"What? I feel fine," Achilles says to Harrison. "Oh, tea would be wonderful, thank you."
The reporter sits back down and sips tea with an evidently blissful expression.
+++ GM Note: Achilles is down from 3 Wounds to 2 Wounds thanks to the tea.
The gryphon glares at Harrison, and then picks up its coat to try and claw some wing-slits in the back.
+++ GM Note: Griffin is now a 10-XP character; as with Achilles, his Human Edge is treated as an Advance. Instead, he gets the Animal racial package, type "Gryphon." Gains Natural Weapons (talons/beak Str+d6); Hindrance (Quirk: Gryphon-like behaviors); Racial Edge: Flight.
The claws are rather sharp, and cut the wing-slits with frightening ease (at least, when compared to what fingernails could do).
"Well, if you don't want to put on the mask, we could see about rigging up something," Achilles suggests as he sips on his tea. "Maybe find some white cloth and tie them up to your hair like bunny ears, the sorts that flop down."
The only untouched one at the table is Harrison ... and he's fidgeting. He's got a major problem. If he doesn't put the mask on, he'll get attacked, a lot. If he does put it on, he'll be stuck as an animal, thus fulfilling the claim of the lady in red. What he does next is, well, sort of like going to a funeral. He takes his hat off and places it on the table. Next comes a deep breath, then he fits the old mask over his face. "For those who are about to puff, we salute you," he mutters.
"I see you're following the Wallpaper Cat's advice: look before you lapine," Achilles quips.
The results are, by this point, not entirely surprising. The mask seems a lot more real than it ought to. There was a mess of straw that was attached to the top of the mask, and it seems to have found its way onto where Harrison's hair should be -- only now it looks suspiciously like rabbit fur.
"This is humiliating for an Englishman," Griffin complains as he struggles to get his wings through the modified jacket without causing a mess. And once they're through, he preens the feathers with his beak, much to his own horror.
"Oh bloody great," Harrison mutters as the nose on the mask starts twitching rapidly. His jaw rolls and he licks at the now much larger front teeth he has. Not to mention the things he feels swivelling about on the top of his head. Even worse is when he holds out his hands and wiggles the soft-looking fingers. "The English are not supposed to be adorable," Harrison complains as he shifts about. Sitting with a tail is also a new experience ... as is the need to cut a hole in his pants for it! Uncomfortable shoes are also discarded to leave the larger feet bare.
"BUNNY!" Integra declares, clapping her hands with glee. She can't resist running over and fuzzling Harrison's ears.
Harrison sighs the sigh of the long-suffering.
"I say, Integra, behave yourself!" Griffin squawks. "He's a hare, not a bunny. They are wild and scrofulous creatures. RAWRK!"
"Better thee than me," the tired reporter says with a chuckle. He peers at the bandages, then peels off a layer, enough so he can move unhindered.
+++ GM Note: Harrison is now a 10-XP character, same deal. Animal (Hare). Quirk (Mad as a March Hare?). Racial Edge (need to be decided). Natural Weapon (Bunny Thump -- Str+d4, causes knockback on a Shaken result). Undecided whether to take Small or Tiny (will resolve before next session).
Peering around the kitchen at last, Achilles notices what looks like stairs down... Some sort of wine cellar? "Have you been down here yet?" he asks of Griffin. "It doesn't look like this entrance is choked up with vines. So it must not be a root cellar."
Zahnrad says, "A"And yeah, I need to be scooting for food!"
"The cellar, yes, where we need to go, according to the Cat," Griffin notes. "I hope we find a tailor down there."
The reporter grimaces as his wounds give him another twinge, but takes a hesitant step forward. "I don't think we can get back to the Real World through the mirrors anymore, so we're going to have to take this route... Besides, given the mayhem our madcap mirror murderers were committing out there, we don't want to be out in the Real World until the heat dies down a bit. Shall we go?"
"You know the worst part right now? My nose will not ... stop ... twitching," Harrison finally concludes once Integra quits playing with his ears. His ears also dutifully cock sideways in true annoyed-lapine form. Another thought crosses his mind, but all he does is mutter under his breath about hoping it isn't springtime in Wonderland.
"Onward and downward," Griffin says, puffing out his feathered chest. "For downward and throughward are the way we must go, to find the Queen and make her see reason.. well.. our version of reason! Then back to our world to finish the season! RAWRK!"
+++ GM Note: Each player awarded 5 XP for 2.5 sessions. ;) So everyone should be at 15 XP on the chart now. Wonderlandish Edges may be purchased, but anything patently Wonderlandishmagical only works in Wonderland (or the EdgelandsBorderlands).