Mr. Madden ponders this issue, as he turns his transformed hat ("In This Style 10/6") over and over. He finally looks inside, and his eyes widen with recognition. "I do think there might be something useful in here!" he declares. He wiggles his fingers tentatively, then adopts a "thoughtful" expression (with tongue caught in his teeth halfway in his mouth -- an expression that immediately prompts giggles from Integra) as he reaches inside.
With a flourish, the Madden Hatter withdraws a nurse's cap, which he then bestows upon Integra. "Here! You are now an honorary nurse. This should help with your bandaging."
GM Note: Haberdashery -- Hat For Every Occasion -- 2 PP: increase Healing for Integra.
Amazingly, it does help, as Integra's ministrations are suddenly signficantly more capable. She has the Ace of Spades patched up in no time.
With that out of the way, the group finishes up most of the rest of the soup (the remainder going into a clean and empty screw-top tin salvaged from the pantry, and into the Ace's possession), and then goes about the business of shamelessly looting the kitchen.
At the recommendation of the Ace of Spades, the Madden Hatter is soon fitted out with a mish-mash of makeshift armor fashioned from pots, pans, and just about every other non-sharp-and-pointy metal thing that could conceivably be strapped onto a man to block a blow, with folded tablecloths serving as interior padding, and some of Integra's bandages and some salvaged string used to tie it all on. It seems to offer him some protection, but it makes such a ruckus when he moves that he's very unlikely to ever get the drop on an enemy.
Integra takes up a metal serving tray, using some leftover tablecloth material to string together a strap from one handle to the next, making a barely-serviceable shield of sorts. They all pass around pots to make "pot helmets," and finally Ace helps himself to a large carving knife.
GM Note: One set of pots-and-pans armor for Madden (15 lb); pot helms all around (4 lb each); small shield (8 lb) for Integra; knife (1 lb) for Ace Johnson. Everyone has Quickness Edge for next Scene/Encounter; Ace has one Magic Foodstuff of Rabbit Stew stored for later use.
The knife, for the briefest of moments, seems to struggle in Ace's grip, before it finally falls still, as if surrendering or perhaps losing whatever Wonderland enchantment had possessed it to give trouble in the first place. Before Ace has time to figure this out further, however, the room is filled with a rattling noise of metal on metal.
The silverware drawer flies open, as knives, spoons and forks shoot out. Steak knives fly out of a wooden counter-top holder. Plates -- dirty and clean -- shoot out from the sink and cabinets. A cleaver wrestles with a wooden cutting board it has been crudely struck into, but after some vain rattling in place, it seems to give up the effort. Skillets, a meat tenderizer, a rolling pin ... even a complete tea set joins the whirlwind of diningware that rampages through the kitchen.
Break time is over, it seems. Anyone who remains in the middle of this slicey-dicey maelstrom might well end up in the next pot of stew!
GM Note: Kitchen Swarm. Anything inside the Swarm is automatically hit on the swarm's turn. Special: 2d6 damage; hits LEAST armored of either your torso or head (in this case, ignoring the 50% characteristic of pot helms). Cover and Shield bonuses apply to ARMOR instead of Parry or Target Number.
"I say! We're not meant to be wearing the silverware," Achilles protests as he dives for cover. "Get back in your drawers like good dish!"
"Woah, hey!" complains Harrison, who seems oddly adept at hopping and darting on all fours (which would be disconcerting if he had time to think about it). "You're supposed to be silverware, not sliverware!"
"Confounded cutlery of .. of.. RAWRK!" Griffin yelps and tries to cover Integra with a wing. "Spoons! Why'd it have to be spoons!"
GM Note (Ace's Survival): Swarms of this type are a 'collective' entity. Individual pots, pans, knives, etc., removed from the "body" of the whole lose their enchantment, so you are in no danger of your pot helmets suddenly trying to eat you. The only way to really "kill" the swarm is to either destroy its components outright (very difficult without explosives or magic) OR separate them in some way. Or ... run away.
Somehow, Achilles's timely wisecrack prompts Madden to snap out of his moment of horror. Madden seems to appreciate the danger presented by the swirling knives, but at least he no longer has that "deer-in-the-coach-lights" look about him.
"I swear I will always use the proper fish fork henceforth," Griffin offers. "The basement! Through the pantry!" he offers to the others.
The Ace of Spades deploys his trademark umbrella, whisking it to the fore and popping it open to form a shield. "I'll hold off these savage spoons and terrifying tongs. They're only dangerous when they're in the air, if you put them away properly, why, they're harmless as churchmice," he calls to the others with an air of confidence. "Down the stairs!"
GM Note: Achilles's Gallow Humor roll (12) granted bonus; everyone passed Guts checks vs. Fear and Sensibility Loss.
"Thank goodness one of us is used to having kitchen implements hurled at him," Griffin squawks as he tries to usher Integra through the narrow pantry entrance. "Mind the rolling pins!"
"A hazard of the trade when one's questioning a woman of the house about her master's predilection for fast living," Achilles laments.
With his gun away and his cane between his teeth (and buck teeth make good holding hooks it turns out!), Harrision, aka March, does a four-footed dance and starts across the floor, heading for the stairs down to the cellar!
"Beware the Tines of March!" the Hatter howls, as he dashes into the pantry and down the stairs.
Holding his umbrella aloft, Ace takes on much the tone of the lion tamer as he hectors the whirling silverware. "Back, I say! Lest I be called upon to use the FORK!" He retreats in good order down the stairs and watches for the swarm's pursuit.
There's a peculiar effect at work here. Time seems to slow down, even as the whirlwind of blades fills the kitchen. At once, the unwitting explorers of Wonderland (or the fringes thereof) manage to dash into the pantry and down the stairs, while the maelstrom of blades and dishes seems almost sluggish by comparison.
They make it down the stairs without so much as a scratch from the knives. The problem, however, is that it's just so DARK down here. There's the repeated clunk of pot helms banging against the low overhang at the start of the stairs, and rushed warnings that do nothing to help the next poor soul in line. Nonetheless, they manage to make it to the bottom with nary a bruise. A miracle!
Alas, there is no convenient hatch to slam down to keep the knives at bay, but it seems that may not be a problem. A few brave pieces of silverware that lurch into the stairwell soon fall and clatter lifelessly to the steps, and a rolling pin bounces on the slats and then rolls onto a pile of boxes just under the stairs.
It would seem that whatever Wonderland enchantment gives the kitchen silverware its life is in fact limited to the kitchen itself. There's just a sort of peculiar Wonderland logic there: kitchenware belongs in kitchens or with cooks, not roaming about on its own ANY old place. Why, that would be ... chaos!
"Anyone got a match?" Harrison asks after spitting out his cane. Turns out a cane is helpful in keeping a four-legged hare upright; at least until he gets better used to it. "I have this bottle of fire booze we could open?" he suggests.
"I say, they seem to have lost their animus," Ace quips. "Or did they lose their animals?" He fishes around in his coat pocket.
Despite the darkness, Griffin takes a moment to adjust the reading glasses on his beak, which have become askew. "Integra, are you all right?" he asks.
Madden, meanwhile, moans and berates himself, slapping himself on the forehead. "Ides! IDES! What a fool I am. It's the IDES of March, not the TIDES of March, so saying beware the TINES of March is two steps removed, and doesn't make the least bit of sense as a pun at all! Oh, what a failure I am!"
Griffin tsks at poor Madden. "Yes, rather RAWKward that was," he commiserates.
"It's quite all right," Achilles says as he fishes out a phosphorus match from a smallish box and strikes it alight. "Harrison will be quite happy to menace you with a fork so you can beware his tines. Or perhaps he can fish out a watch and you can look out for his time."
Integra shudders. "Yes, Uncle," she says timidly. "Those dishes didn't wish us well at all, did they?" Then she giggles. "Dishes and wishes!" She immediately composes a nonsensical rhyme-song on the spot, murmuring it lowly enough that it doesn't really compete much with the talk of the grown-ups, hinging mostly on trying to pick various kitchen-y words and then rhyming them, making up words as needed. It's a work in progress.
The reporter, umbrella tucked under one arm, continues fishing around in his pocket. The match is a fleeting solution at best.
... or so it should seem at first, but the match doesn't go out.
Rather, the match flares with a great glow, almost magical for the light it provides.
It seems almost a story-book logic. "It is dark." "I light a match!" And the problem is solved, just as long as no breeze comes along to blow it out.
"I dare say if everything in this world can attack us, we're not going to get a lot of sleep," March remarks as he peers around. Of course then it dawns on him to use the long things sticking out of the top of his head to listen around. "I suppose that a hare in the dark makes things for ear-y..."
"Ah, the natural waxiness of your hands has come in useful, Ace," Griffin notes, and starts to look around for something a bit more reliable than a match. "Let us hope we do not need to resort to lighting Harrison's whiskers as well."
In the light offered by the match, it seems that the cellar is a bit worse for the wear, and the transition into the fringes of Wonderland hasn't helped. Cracks have formed in the fieldstone cellar walls, and roots of trees (though none should be growing in the alleys or streets) worm their way through. Mushrooms of all sorts of colors (but mostly red and dotted with white) sprout up from cracks in the floor and walls, and from in between the slats of crates and barrels. The whole place has a very earthy smell to it. A low greenish haze clings to the floor.
Considering the strange luminance the match provides, Achilles pauses, then fishes out the candle anyway, which he lights and hands to Integra. "Here, my dear, if you'd be so kind as to hold this so your uncle can see? Better to light a candle than to curse the darkness, after all."
A lantern hangs on a hook on the supporting post right next to the base of the stairwell. It would appear this is in a convenient spot for exploring the cellar to retrieve its stocks for the kitchen.
Integra nods and takes the candle, shielding it carefully with her serving-tray shield.
"Right, well, time to find a rabbit-hole, if things follow the hints we've seen," March notes. "I don't want to sit in any one place too long..."
Ace catches sight of the lantern. "Feeling matchless, my dear Harrison?" he asks, taking it up and lighting it. He offers the match to the rabbit, now that he has a more dependable light source.
The match flickers a bit, but continues to glow. By now, it should have crept down the stick to where it would be burning finger-tips, but it doesn't seem to follow that sort of logic. Not yet, anyway.
"Sure, give me the easily blown out source. I see how it is," March mutters as he collects the meager match so that he can explore the cellar a bit. Oddly enough, being underground has a sort of comfort to it. And so he slips a bit away from the others to find a way out of the cellar.
Griffin begins poking his beak around, searching the immediate area and sniffing the mushrooms.
"Think of it as encouragement to keep out of water and strong drafts," Ace quips. He advances cautiously, chastened by his recent experience with those mirror murderers.
It takes a moment for the Hare's eyes to adjust -- but just a moment -- to the darkness of the cellar. Up ahead, he can see a few pipes running from floor to ceiling, corresponding to the sink and the pump in the kitchen. Over there, a structural support. Here and there are stacks of boxes, kegs, and such, though for the most part there's a lot of open space; the Sullivans seem not the sort to fill up every last available inch of space with junk -- at least, not yet.
Between a couple of supports, the Hare can see a glimmer of green -- something glowing faintly, something on the floor to the southwest. Perhaps it could be the source of this strange greenish mist crawling along the flagstones.
"Something glows this way goeth," Harrison remarks to the others. The hare then slowly heads southwest in search of the source...
Spying a rolling pin that has fallen from the swarm, and noticing the pots-and-pans adorn Madden doesn't seem to be carrying a weapon, Ace lifts it up and offers it to him. "Your weapon, sir, and may it well flatten any dough-ty enemies of ours."
"Follow close to my.. tail, Integra," Griffin advises, before following the others.
Madden reluctantly taps on the rolling-pin, as if not quite sure it is safe to do so ... but at last he overcomes his fear and picks it up, wielding it like a makeshift billy-club, nodding his thanks. You can almost see the gears turning as he tries to work on an appropriate pun in response, but he's a bit slower at this game than Achilles, it seems.
The reporter looks back up the stairs warily, but it seems as if the swarm isn't about to pursue them. "It's simple to use, just think to yourself, 'batter up'," he quips, before turning to see where the others are getting to.
"Take a drink and into the sink," Integra sing-songs, then breaks off, giggling at her uncle's new tufty tail. "Yes, Uncle," she whispers, as she keeps up with him.
The base of the other stairs can be seen -- the ones leading into the back room. It seems that the roots that once choked it have slowly receded -- perhaps a very delayed effect of Integra's earlier attempts at clearing them. Beyond them, however, the flagstones give way to more and more mushrooms and cracks, and in places bare broken earth can be seen.
"Be careful, Griffin, or she'll have new tails to tell," March quips.
A large section of the cellar floor has broken away entirely in a tangle of roots, ever-larger mushrooms, and chunks of earth. An eerie greenish glow emanates from below ... but, just as oddly, there appears to be a hole in the ceiling as well. Up above should be the main pub hall, but there's no evidence of that. It defies any rational sense of space.
"At least I have a proper tail, and not something out of a lady's makeup kit," Griffin counters.
"Yes, proper to be caught in doors and to be tugged on," March agrees as he creeps closer to the hole ahead. "That's some rabbit hole," he mutters.
The reporter follows along with his lantern, keeping his eyes and ears alert for ambush... Say, for example, from the other set of stairs.
A soft ticking noise echoes from the direction of the oversized rabbit hole.
"Go see if Mr. White is in there," Griffin urges.
With a crackle of earth and broken stone, a few fresh mushrooms sprout up right around Harrison's feet, quickly "blossoming" into bright red stools. However, they don't do anything further than that. Just ... more mushrooms.
"Erk, more fungus among us!" March blurts and dances about.
"Keep in mind that if we should encounter Mr. White... He works for Queen Alice now," Ace comments to the others. "Whatever advice he might give us would surely lead toward her courts."
"Mind your match," Griffin warns. "And.. that really is a terrible dance. I'm tempted to show you how to do it properly.."
The ticking noise grows larger as the March Hare approaches. Then, the hare's keen ears pick up the sounds of soft little paws scuffling on earth and stone. Something's crawling and hopping up the pit. A moment later, there's a little white fluffy bunny at the edge of the gargantuan rabbit hole. It's backlit by the green glow, and hard to make out the details. Something's a bit off about it -- aside from, of course, the whole idea of a white rabbit hopping out of a gargantuan hole in the Sullivans' cellar.
The reporter peers down at the mushrooms thoughtfully. "I say! This looks like a Russula." He nibbles a tiny piece, then pockets a few. "Russula lepida. I wonder if it's in your honor, O Hare?"
March peers over the edge of the abyss, nose twitching rapidly. "Wow, that is deep. I'm sure the civil engineers would have a heart attack if they saw it. Why, it gives me a positively sinking feeling," he quips.
Harrison's ears pick up what's so odd about this fluffy white bunny, as it wiggles its cute little pink nose and fluffy white tail and makes little timid bunny hops up toward the somewhat larger hare. A soft ticking noise is emanating from it, and there is a little metal turn-key protruding from its back.
"Oh dear, a cottentail with a ticking wail? A clicking ... er," March says as his ears tilt sideways in confusion. He uses his cane to poke at the odd creature a bit.
**BOOM**
The reporter, having been distracted by identifying the mushrooms, looks up with alarm at the explosion!
There is a sudden and most unexpected explosion of bunny fluff and clockwork parts (the latter being the sharp and slicey bits of most concern for anyone nearby) from the little wind-up bunny!
Maybe it's animal instinct, but when a ominous click of finality emanates from the other rabbit, March shoves hard with his rear legs, propelling himself backwards as an explosive wave ripples out from the bunny! "Gracious! Had I known he would go to pieces when poked, I wouldn't have poked! That's a sensitive bunny," he complains.
"RAWRK!" Griffin cries in alarm. "Combustible Cuteness! Integra, promise you will only poke things that are not cuddly from here on out!"
"Harrison!" yells Ace. He flips his umbrella out again, running up to try to help his friend. "That was close, you were almost Russet Lepida. Er. Russula Leporidae. Ahem! Red rabbit!"
Little scuffling and soft ticking noises emit from the rabbit hole. It would seem there are MORE of those things. A faint chuckle echoes through the cellar. "Hello, old friends! Finally come to play? Oh dear oh dear, by my ears and whiskers, I'm afraid you're all about to be frightfully LATE!" And then more maniacal tittering laughter.
"That sounds very unfriendly," March mutters. "Hey, can't you treat your own kind better!? And we're hardly late. Your watch is fast," he yells towards the hole.
"That hole sounds parched, March," Griffin notes. "Maybe you should offer it something to drink?"
Ace agrees, "Mr. White's sure to get a bang out of it."
"Oh, you have no IDEA how fast it is!" the voice titters back. "Hee hee!" There's then the sound of rapid winding and clicking.
"Well, old friend, I have to say I too have a flare for the dramatic," March claims as he does a little shuffle and pulls out the bottle of Tartarus Tupple.
Harrison backpedals quickly from the pit because he has no idea how much of a boom the booze will make. And really, he has no desire to smell himself burning. "Fire in the hole!" March announces and makes use of the incendiary liqueur!
"Hide behind your platter, Integra," Griffin advises.
"That's a bunch of bounding bunny bombs!" Ace yelps as he catches sight of the swarm of fluffy white things climbing out of the hole.
The bottle flies a bit further and to the right than Harrison intended, but it bounces against one of the supporting columns and shatters, bursting forth in a tremendous fireball and the sounds of screaming doomed souls. Two little wind-up bunnies are incinerated just as they hop up to the lip of the rabbit hole, and their explosions join the chorus in a chain-reaction. Supporting columns collapse, as the ceiling starts to cave in on the southwestern corner of the cellar. Countless kegs of ale and beer are ruptured (heartwrenching!) and some of the more volatile spirits add to the conflagration.
As rubble starts to pour down, and whole sections of the ceiling collapse, however, the tittering laughter of the hidden antagonist can still be heard ... and the soft tick-tick-tick and shuffle and hop of the remaining bunnies that escaped the conflagration.
"Dear Lord, may the Holey Spirits protect us," Ace prays. Somehow that didn't come out quite the way he intended.
"AIEEEEE!" Madden cries, as he scrambles for cover, trying to shield himself with the rolling pin. It doesn't make for a very effective shield, not surprisingly, but fortunately he's well away from the worst of the flaming bunny shrapnel.
"RAWRK!" Griffin squawks, all his neck feathers standing up. "If the ceiling blocks the hole, we'll have no way out!"
"Well, they do say drinking is bad for your health," March quips as he pulls his ears down!
"Well ... TWO can play at this game!" Madden cries, as he fumbles for his hat. "Or ... at least I think I can! I've got a magic hat, right? So I should have SOMETHING useful in it, don't you think?"
Having an odd thought, Griffin reaches into his coat pocket where he put the tin soldier, and sees if he can take the rifle out.
Miraculously, the play-time logic of old seems to work in Griffin's favor this time. The tiny toy rifle is just as good as a real one ... and in a moment, he has a full-sized rifle in hand (or claw).
"Hah!" the gryphon squawks, and takes aim at the nearer of the rabbits. "Duck down, March old boy," he says. "I don't want to be splitting any hares with this.."
The reporter moves up closer, deploying his umbrella as a shield. "Get back, Harrison, better to have Little Bunny Boom Boom at a safe distance when you shoot them!"
The remaining two bunnies (at least, those that can be seen at the moment) finish hopping up to the lip of the crater. In unison, they wiggle their cute little pink button noses in the direction of the visitors. The gust of hot air from the explosions of their comrades tousles their cute little fluffy white fur, and blows their cute little bunny ears to one side, and they take a bunny-moment to groom mechanically. My how unrealistically life-like!
Griffin noses a blur out of the corner of his eye. Harrison feels a buzzing sensation as if a bug just flew past his head, fleeing the explosion. Integra's skirts billow from a sudden breeze wafting by. The candle abruptly snuffs out. (About time!) A sign appears on Achilles' back, pinned there to the back of his coat, reading "KICK ME." Madden's price card is upside-down in the brim, and he doesn't even notice. Integra lets out a shriek of alarm as suddenly her hair is brushed over her face.
"I have all the time in this world ... and the next!" comes a whisper from the air right in Harrison's ears ... but nobody is there!
March jumps straight up in shock! "What, where!?" he blurts.
The reporter pauses. What just... He senses his back is heavier by just a teensy bit. Reaching back with his free hand, he draws it back to find... A 'KICK ME' note. "Well, I never! Madden, do you have anything in your hat to slow that prankster down?" he grouses. "Or at least put a bee in his bonnet!"
Sizing the situation up, Ace lunges forward and attempts to slice the wind-up key off of the rabbit! After all, it's a clockwork explosive, it can't explode without the clockwork bit.
"For the Queen!" yells Achilles, slicing at the key. Tick tick... uh oh.
Achilles deftly pops the key right out of the bunny. None shall ever wind up that clockwork bunny again!
**BOOM!**
Fortunately, reflexes inspire him to put his umbrella between himself and the bunny at just the right moment. The amazingly resilient umbrella takes the brunt of the blast, as the force propels him clear of the newly-collapsing section of the cellar ceiling! Really, half the pub hall should be down here by now, but it's just solid earth and rocks and roots above, it seems.
"Something to trip ..." Madden calls into the hat, and he reaches in, and seems surprised as he pulls out ... a clothesline? Complete with clips and wet laundry hanging from it. He keeps pulling and pulling, and the clothesline doesn't appear to be ending anytime soon.
"Good God, man, has your thinking gone flat as well?" Griffin notes. "They don't like to be touched, recall!"
*** GM Warning: Weather getting bad outside. Might lose power without warning. Just so you know. But I hope it'll blow over. =P
"So much for that theory," grumbles Achilles. "They do seem rather touchy, don't they? We'd better get back, we don't want to take out those last two columns!"
GM Note: Madden - Haberdashery - Conjure: $100 worth of clothesline (and wet laundry). I.e., a LOT.
Madden blushes at all the lacy things.
"Integra, can you give Madden a hand with his line?" calls Ace, peeking past his umbrella at the last rabbit. "If you can string it up all over those four columns, it might give Mr. White some pause for thought-- or catch him up in his own paws!"
With the exposed bunny now the exploded bunny, Griffin hears the ticking of the remaining one but can't see it. "We need to flush out the last one," he notes, and looks up at the damaged ceiling to see if there's a chunk conveniently poised to come crashing down near the suspected hiding spot of the mined minion.
"If we could lure it somewhere safe... You don't happen to have some food rabbits like on you, do you?" mutters Achilles.
"What, like gears and springs?" the gryphon replies. "They're wind ups!"
The reporter points out, "In rabbit form. But, if you happen to have some of those too, we could give it a try!"
Hoisting the rifle so he can use a free hand, Griffin rummages through the items he collected from the pantry, and finds the tin of candy. He pries the top off with a claw and uses the very tips to extract one of the treats, which he tosses towards the suspected hiding spot.
Hoisting the rifle so he can use a free hand, Griffin rummages through the items he collected from the pantry, and finds the tin of candy. He pries the top off with a claw and uses the very tips to extract one of the treats, which he tosses towards the suspected hiding spot after taking a few steps closer, to put him at regulation Dart Throwing distance.
The candy scatters on the ground on the cellar floor near the column where the remaining bomb-bunny is hiding. One by one, the little wrappers burst into flame, popping like firecrackers. It covers quite an area, but it's more flash-and-bang than actual damage. Still, the bunny behind the column catches fire ... and then ... **BOOM**
"... yes, I suppose that little bunny bombs might be attracted to Spicy Red Hots, but I don't think we're going to be going down the rabbit hole any time soon," the reporter says with a sigh.
The last column in the southwest corner of the cellar around the hole collapses. The ceiling cracks and starts to get a lot closer.
"So, should we make a run for the hole?" March asks nervously and eyes the soon-to-collapse ceiling!
"It's not a fox-hole, but I think now might be the best time to jump into it," Griffin agrees.
While the explosions are going on, Integra rushes over and tries to assist Madden, grabbing one end of the clothesline and making a run around the few remaining columns nearby.
Ace shakes his head. "It's too dangerous, with Mr. White still at large, nipping at our heels! We'd better catch him first."
"There's no point in catching him if we get squished!" March points out!
"Wet knickers should be sufficient to stop a ghost rabbit," Griffin suggests.
"Do you really want to leave your niece with him skulking around?" Ace asks of Griffin. "Speaking of..." He glances back over his shoulder. Well. She was there just a second ago.
March figuring a hare can catch a hare, quits trying to spot him and instead listens for him. HE also moves a little closer to the pit, because, well, he's jumping in if the ceiling starts to go!
As he gingerly steps his way between flaming bits of broken barrel wood, bits of clockwork, and the occasionally falling rock, the March Hare's ears pick up a noise from ... above! Something is hurtling down at him at great velocity. In a split moment, he can make out a glimpse of a white rabbit decked out in funerary garb that's been worn at the knees and messed up with kicking around all this dirt. In other words, the white rabbit is dressed in attire reminiscent of the (recently) late Mr. White. He doesn't seem to care a whit that he's falling at such a velocity that he should be splattered to bits should he hit an outcropping, or once he finally reaches the bottom of this pit, far below.
The White Rabbit takes a puff from his pipe. Really, at the speed he's falling, and in the split second that Harrison notices him, he shouldn't have TIME to do that. But he seems to be going about this quite leisurely, defying the normal course of the passage of time, as he idly checks his pocketwatch, and gives it a good wind-up while he's at it. Wind-wind-wind-wind-wind.
March grits his buck teeth. "Time to mug my bretheren!" the hare declares and crouches down, tensing rabbity legs! The odd play in time, and the wind of that watch ... it may be connected! So, time to get that watch!
The reporter tenses as his old friend Harrison runs toward the pit, the ceiling above trembling oh so precariously. If Harrison leaps in...
Again March might be a bit disturbed by using a very rabbity body, but right now Mr. White really to be stopped! His legs tense and the hare leaps! Only he goes sideways and catches the fragment of one of the columns laying nearby. He rebounds off that and arcs upward in a graceful leap. As he begins to pass just over the dropping white rabbit, he's upside down and grinning at his lapine foe. "Well, hello there!" he declares with an all-too-crazy grin! He rears back in midair with his cane, then takes a massive swing at the watch-holding hand!
"What the devil?" the White Rabbit says, as his monocle drops from his eye, dangling by his chain. (Really, monocles only exist for JUST that sort of thing, don't you know!) The pocket watch is knocked clear out of his white-gloved hand, and the end of the chain rips free from the vest pocket. The chain and watch go sailing!
GM Note: Wild Card NPC Benny spent to insta-recover from Shaken status for White Rabbit.
And to add insult to injury, March mimes doffing a hat as he continues his arc over the rabbit.
"NOOOOO!" the White Rabbit shrieks as his precious pocket watch goes sailing. He suddenly picks out with his large rabbit feet, slamming into Harrison, and shoving them each away from each other to opposite sides of the hole.
"Glurk!" goes March as sailing due to the dynamic demon bunny feet of doom! That hurt. A lot.
"A hare-oic leap, March!" Griffin says, although he really was able to focus on at the time was the sight of the shiny watch. "Nurse Integra, you are needed!"
GM Note: Harrison took 2 Wounds, but soaked one with a Benny. Wounded and Shaken, at -1 to trait rolls and to Pace.
"Me and my nearly broken ribs ... salute you," March whimpers from the heap he landed in on the other side of the hole.
The watch sails past the collapsing ceiling and piles of rubble, landing in the broken and burning remains of the crates stacked up to the ceiling in the far southwestern corner. A gleam of "shiny!" catches the gryphon's eye in the fire-light, amid the wreckage.
"My God! Fools really do leap in where angels fear to tread," Ace gasps as Harrison makes his wild leap into the pit... But that distinctive thump means that March must have hit something. Could Mr. White be in there, somehow? As Harrison thumps painfully against the side of the pit, he yells trying to distract the unseen rababit-foe, "Mr. White! Is it true that Queen Alice and you have stopped seeing each other?! The public needs to know!"
"Shiny," Griffon notes, and hurries towards the corner where the watch fell.
GM Note: Taunt achieves a raise over White Rabbit's Smarts roll. Result: +2 to next action vs. White Rabbit (bonus can be granted to someone else if desired); White Rabbit is Shaken.
The White Rabbit sputters and stammers. "I -- I never! I'm ... I'm happily married! Or was! I ... By jove, I HATE the tabloids!"
While her uncle goes after the pocket watch (which gleams enticingly JUST out of reach of the gryphon), Integra quietly sneaks around, moving from column to column, picking wet laundry off of the clothesline and then stringing it up in the darkness.
"Married til death do you part-- you realize that means Queen Alice stole you away from your grieving wife, the thieving minx!" accuses Ace, trying to track Mr. White's voice as he looks toward his stunned-seeming rabbit friend, then around at the shadows. "She's a widowmaker!"
"Medic," March says weakly and lifts up his cane, waving it. Pity he used one of the frilly underthings from the clothesline as a flag.
Sensing something moving, Ace calls out to Madden and Integra, "Look out, he's behind those stairs! I'll get Harrison clear of this mess."
As Achilles braves the collapsing clods of dirt and larger rocks to assist Harrison, he gets a glimpse into the depths of the rabbit hole. It's a massive, gaping thing, and its apparent angle doesn't seem to quite match his expectations, as if it bobs around unable to decide on an exact path as he moves, but the moment he stands still, it is still as well. It's unnerving. All down the length of the hole, he can see protruding roots interspersed with hanging portraits (of rabbits), odd pieces of furniture, the occasional shelf, more roots, and so on down into the green haze. Occasionally, flitting winged shapes can be made out, silhouetted against the glow, far below.
Madden, meanwhile, follows Integra's lead, sneaking from place to place, looking about furtively for a glimpse of a deadly exploding rabbit or two, then snags more of the clothesline as he goes, discarding various frilly things pinned to the line along the way.
Unable to repress his reporter's instincts, Achilles demands as he pulls March free of the likely ceiling impact zone, "That fall-- were you pushed or did you take the fall willingly?! Did you have any contact with Queen Alice before your demise?"
There's a gentle "wind-wind-wind-wind" noise, and then a soft ticking noise from the shadows.
Clank, clatter, clang. Madden's Stealthiness leaves something to be desired, what with all those pots and pans. It seems he can't even hear the soft ticking noise over his own movement.
Suddenly, out of the shadows, there's an alarmed cry from Madden. "Yahhhh! RABBIT! OVER HERE! OVER -- NO, DON'T GIVE ME THAT! WHAT DO I DO WITH--" And then there's a sound of a bunny-thump, some crashing crates, and Madden falling over.
"Look out, he's bombing this interview so he's throwing a bomb!" yells Ace.
There's a loud explosion toward the northeast corner of the cellar. Bottles smash, barrels burst, and fire rushes out. Integra screams and crouches behind a pillar.
A large flaming hat comes rolling -- however improbably -- on its rim, coming to a stop and rolling around right in front of Integra. She sees the hat, and bursts into sobs.
"Hee hee hee! Time waits for no one!" the White Rabbit titters as he prances off into the shadows again.
"Integra!" Griffin cries, seeming to be suddenly surprised at where he is. "I'm coming!"
"Wrested from his wife by widowmaker Alice, wild wabbit wrecks mad hatter, reckless of public safety!" gasps the reporter.
"No, get the watch!" Harrison blurts out as he tries to recover enough to do something.
Zahnrad says, "Shoot who? I have to draw the gun, it's put away! Well, I guess I could take a milti-action penalty and try?"
Zahnrad says, "'So if I draw and shoot at White, what would be the roll?"
The reporter, sensing March stirring, tells him, "Mr. White just murdered Madden in cold blood! With one of his bunny bombs!"
"Then we can't let his death be in vain. We have to get that watch," Harrison grunts as he gets to his feet, all four of them. Legs tense and he goes for the watch!
Four-legged running is fast. He's a blur as he zips across the room to where he saw the watch fly!
Achilles starts as Harrison takes off like... Well, a jackrabbit. "But--" He shakes his head. He can only hope he won't have to pull them out of the wreckage later. He grimly readies his umbrella; something in Mr. White's demeanor suggests that tabloid tricks won't work again.
The hare bounds off the crates and zips back out of the area with the crumbling ceiling. Granted it seems he grabbed the watch with his mouth, but hey.
The watch is a curious little trinket with a backwards face. Something seems ... special about it. In fact, it seems familiar; he recalls how, back in the day, random pieces of junk would be declared to have special powers by Alice ... and as far as everyone in her plays were concerned, her word on the matter was law.
The White Rabbit takes a thoughtful puff on his pipe in the shadows, ears pivoting. Integra, however, figures out that hiding isn't much good if you're sobbing, so she bites hard on her hand and lets the tears fall silently. The rabbit doesn't seem to notice her.
Instead, the rabbit disappears into the flames and smoke. The clothesline jostles.
The reporter observes the jostling of the clothesline. Hmm!
With a growl, Griffin runs towards his niece, rifle held ready..
"Madden, you may yet play your part in capturing this miscreant," Achilles growls in a low tone of voice. "Harrison, I'm going to pull the line, if you see him, don't hesitate!"
In the distant smoky darkness of the cellar, the White Rabbit can be heard humming, slightly off-key, a child's tune. It sounds like ... "My Grandfather's Clock."
The reporter dashes forward and suddenly hauls on the middle of the line with all his strength, trying to catch Mr. White in a coil of clothesline!
"Snared in a web of deceit!" yells the reporter as he feels the line catching on something. He pulls, trying to yank the rabbit into open view of the marksmen.
"Fair's fair," the wounded Hare says as he moves up so that he can get a clear line on the White Rabbit. With each step he clicks the watch, winding it and feeling its odd effect on time twist around him. He's hurting still, yet he draws his gun once he can see the White Rabbit and fires.
The clothesline is strung around the columns, suspended on hooks apparently there for the purpose of providing a convenient space to put one of the lanterns while checking out the contents of the cellar.
The clothesline pulls taut, and there's a startled yelp and the sound of a pipe clattering to the ground. The White Rabbit is tugged into view, tangled in the rope. It appears that he had been in the process of oh-so-cleverly following the clothesline along, presumably in order to track his way over to find Integra in her hiding spot at the line's end. However, he's lost this sudden impromptu game of tug-of-war ... which puts him plainly out in the open.
*** Note to GW: Move March's line up here!
Alas, the pain in Harrison's side flares at just the wrong moment. His shot skims by the White Rabbit's left ear! It flicks reflexively.
"Oho!" the White Rabbit chortles. "You may have the watch, but I assure you, time is NOT on your side!"
"Run and hide if you like, but the truth-- will-- OUT!" yells Achilles.
The White Rabbit gives Achilles a flash of pink eyes, and raises his cane to point at him. Hmm. That headpiece looks a bit odd. Come to think of it, so does the base. "Life hasn't dealt you a fair hand, has it, Ace? Sometimes, you just need to know when to fold!" He pulls a trigger concealed in the handle....
The reporter tries to bring his umbrella up to avoid the shot!
Thinking quickly, Achilles tries to turns sideways as well, trying to minimize his face-on area to the rabbit!
As it so happens, Achilles's "en garde" position in relation to the White Rabbit meant putting his side toward the miscreant. With a flick of reflex, suddenly he's lined up perfectly with the cane ... and snaps into two-dimensions in relation to the rabbit, though from everyone else's point of view, it's impossible to think he could have avoided it. The bullet whips through empty space, and only the White Rabbit can see -- and seethe over -- the reason why.
"I've never been so glad to have my jokes fall flat before," Achilles manages to joke, as the bullet whizzes past him, so close it must surely have left burn marks.
March approaches the other rabbit a bit more, pistol still raised. His finger draws tight, releasing the hammer! A crack echoes from the pistol as he unleashes a round at the White Rabbit!
The White Rabbit staggers back from the shot, looking quite taken aback. This is not part of the plan!
The reporter wobbles in the wind as his friend rushes by, firing at Mr. White! "Careful, he may have another trick up his sleeve!" he warns Harrison.
"And this is for giving rabbits a bad name," March nearly-growls as he moves in with wounded, but still quick, lapine movement. His foot comes up and he strikes out, determined to return the thump he suffered earlier!
"OOF!" The White Rabbit staggers back from the blow, but is otherwise in surprisingly good shape for being punctured by a bullet and then kicked right on the wound.
GM Note: Last Bunny Benny blown to Soak bunny-thump damage. White Rabbit is Shaken.
Sighting along his rifle, Griffin says, "Smile for the birdy," and then fires at the wounded white rabbit.
The White Rabbit turns just in time for his monocle (back in place by now) to catch the light just SO. Shiny.
GM Note: Hit with a raise + ridiculous exploding damage roll + White Rabbit out of Bennies + 4 Wounds = Achievement Badge for Gryphon Paisley: One Shot, One Kill!
The monocle shatters, the frame still in place. Fortunately, Integra is looking away as the exit wound paints the stack of crates behind the White Rabbit, and he slumps to the floor, lifeless. No last dying words -- nothing.
Achilles finally manages to regain his footing after that near-miss, drawing his umbrella back to a rapier-like en garde pose... Just as the White Rabbit slumps in death. "God save us," he praises Griffin. "That's a snipe sniped, if I ever saw one."
Griffin ejects the shell casing, then slips the rifle back into his coat pocket before hurrying to his niece. "It's over, Integra. Remember that you are a British girl though, so none of this moping about until later, then you can have a good cry, all right?" he tells her.
The fires begin to die down. A section of ceiling breaks loose and falls near the hole, cracking, followed by a shower of pebbles ... and then silence. Surely, this should have all gone away now, and they'd be back in the Real World, or something to that effect, but perhaps there are a few heartbeats left before it all resolves itself.
"You'd better carry her, if we're going down the hole, we have to do it now," Ace says, eying the ceiling warily.
"Integra has the marmalade, it will help her land lightly," Griffin notes. "I'll carry March. No sense in him risking further injury until he can be treated."
March snaps the watch shut and winces; his side still quite on fire. "Moment," he says as he goes to inspect the fallen white rabbit for anything useful before they make for the hole.
The reporter assists in checking the rabbit out, looking for journals or evidence on the rabbit that might indicate what other traps we have to face... Or prove that someone murdered Mr. White.
As the reporter does a quick perusal of the surroundings for things he might need for the trip ahead, there are a few obvious things: The White Rabbit won't be needing his hat, for instance. The monocle is assuredly ruined, but the pipe is still good, and he has a small bag of tobacco. The pocket watch is already accounted for. His coinpurse, oddly enough, has a few wooden checkers rather than actual coins in it.
March collects the pipe, the coinpurse, and the cane. He'll decide what do do about having two canes once they're out of a place that threatens to fall on their head at any moment. "We had best go down the hole, or up the stairs. The ceiling will go soon," he says.
To protect Integra's innocence, Griffin keeps a wing wrapped around her to shield her from the necessary activities of the other two men.
Nearby, although most of the contents have been destroyed in the violence of the battle, there are numerous bottles of wine and beer to be found. They sport various brand marks ... but if one looks closely, the name and every last bit of text is just "DRINK ME" in varied script. It's anyone's guess as to what would happen if one did (though getting drunk might be at least one side effect).
Ace reaches out for the 'coins'. "If we can track these checkers' origin down to where they were made..." He pauses as Harrison's words remind him of the precarity of the situation. "Right. I have a feeling our answers are down there."
"Anything useful in the booze, Griffin?" Marhc calls out and motions towards the spilled bottles.
Griffin snatches up one of the bottles, to replace the spent candy, and gives the label a more thorough glance before risking the cork.
The reporter snags the top hat, "This might come in handy if we need to convince people you're really the White Rabbit," and heads for the hole, putting his umbrella up against debris. "Integra, take your marmalade now, and I'll head down with you. Griffin will take care of Harrison."
Integra nods numbly, just going through the motions and doing as she's told. The magic and wonder of Wonderland seems to have worn thin for her after losing the Hatter.
Putting the bottle away with the tins, Griffin watches her somber niece, and then gestures to Harrison. "Hold on to my back, if you can, March. Should be less jostling."
"Wouldn't it be easier to carry Integra and let me use the marmalade?" March inquires, curious.
It was there one moment ago, but the next ... the White Rabbit's body is gone. The artifacts rifled from his remains are still in the possession of the explorers, but neither the body, nor the red "paint" against the crates is there anymore. It seems that Wonderland occasionally cleans up its messes. Perhaps the rest of this disaster will be put back in order as well. Or perhaps it simply won't be around for much longer.
Harrison sticks the canes in his belt and the rest of the stuff goes into various pockets of his coat. "But if not, lets get going. I reall expect the ceiling to attack us soon, just because," the hare notes.
The reporter pauses, then snags some of the smaller bottles. In a pinch, this stuff should still return its basic property of flammability!
March follows Ace's lead and grabs a couple bottles as well. Can't hurt, after all.
The reporter considers the crates of bottles, then snags five of the smaller pieces. With a magician's flourish, he tucks them into pockets, so that (since he wasn't watching directly) Griffin still has no idea whether they go two-dimensional against his body or not.
*** Note to GW: Swap above two lines.
Another section of the ceiling falls down, and rubble spills out, kicking dust and green mist into the air.
"I think that's our cue. Lets go," March says and limps towards the hole in the floor.
Some of the roots protruding through the walls writhe restlessly, and slowly withdraw back into their cracks, vanishing from sight.
Achilles holds the umbrella up, then motions for the others to gather up so they can head down together!
With a "pop-pop-pop-pop-pop!" whole lines of mushrooms shoot back into their cracks in the floors as well.
"Integra, do you want me to carry you down, or do you want to use your marmalade?" Griffin asks at the edge of the pit. "You could give it to Mr. March then."
Integra looks at the pit ... the very deep, twisty, creepy green pit ... and gives her answer by clinging to the Gryphon's side. One might get the impression that, magic marmalade or no, she's not quite ready to just jump into the void.
And so March holds out his hand for the Marmalade. "I'm fluffy, but not fluffy enough to survive the fall," he says.
Integra hastily hands over the marmalade.
"All right, that seems clear," Griffin notes, scooping Integra up into his arms. "Hang tight," he says, spreads his wings (and hopes they work).. and then dives into the hole.
Integra lets out a long squeeeeeaaaaaal, but ... thank goodness, those wings WORK!
"Right, well, this will be different," March says as he opens the jar and peers down the hole. He dips a finger in the goo, then licks it off ... and waits to see if he feels any actual effect from it!
"As God watches over the Queen and her great nation, may He also aid us that we not plummet to our doom," prays Achilles... Then he jumps in after them, deploying his umbrella-- not straight-out open, but using it as a rudder to control his orientation. "FOR QUEEN AND COUNTRY!"
"Down the rabbit hole! I hope we have a hare of a chance of surviving. I'll have to count on my two lucky feet to see me through," March declares. A few hops (too cute to bear, but thankfully the others are gone), and down the hole he goes!
"And you might want this," Harrison adds as he tosses the mostly empty jar to the card below! "Fruit from above! It's better than exploding bunnies from the pit!"
Looking up, Achilles spots the marmalade jar coming his way... But at the rate he's falling, it would be a shame if he hit the bottom before it did! So, using his umbrella to push against an obstacle, he puts his feet to the side of the pit and tries to brake his own fall, long enough to reach out and jump back within grasping range of the marmalade jar! Snag!
Somehow -- call it magic, or "just how these things work" -- the marmalade jar has just enough to be shared around with everyone present, no matter what rate they happen to be falling through the hole at the moment. Judging by its effect on their descent, it looks like none of them should be splattering themselves against the bottom of the hole anytime soon.
The reporter panickedly runs his finger around the edge of the jar and noms. "Mm! Deliciously light! I feel as if I could..." He notices the furniture and bookshelves slowing their pace near him. "Float. Well." He notices there still seems to be a generous dollop left... Nearly as much as there was before he had at it, despite greedy rabbit nommings! "Griffin!" he calls, and throws the jar onward.
Furnishings and portraits zip by. It hearkens back to the original tales of Alice falling through the Rabbit Hole, and how she mused about nonsensical things. "Do cats eat bats? Do bats eat cats?" And fittingly, it seems like there's plenty of nonsense to be had here. With a chorus of noises that are something between a meow and a squeak, a number of fluttering cats-that-eat-bats and bats-that-eat-cats fly into view (largely indistinguishable one from the other, since they all look like unholy cat-bat or bat-cat hybrids).
...