The present weather is foul in a different way. The rain is pungent and oily, and the lightning seems to strike even faster than usual, if it were possible, and immediately starts a quickly-spreading fire wherever it touches. A nearby lightning strike (the accompanying thunder peal nearly deafening everyone, especially the Hare) leaves a burning greasy stain where once stood a mighty tum-tum tree; there shall be no more standing in uffish thought under THAT tree anymore.

March Manor
A mirror image of Haigha's house in the Looking-Glass Lands, this thatch-roofed building has two smokestacks and windows and other features that give it the vague suggestion of a long-eared rabbit's head. Within a walled garden out front, a long-abandoned banquet table in the shade of a couple of trees has remnants of a mad tea party, in the form of broken cups and pitchers and scattered trays.

The journey to March Manor has been marked mostly by incredibly terrible weather. Even the beasts of the Forest of Giant Animals would not brave such horrors as hail that came down in handbaskets, a "fog" that was quite literally as thick (and pungent) as pea soup, and perhaps most devastating of all, rain that came down in buckets.

Those most of the resulting detritus has inexplicably vanished just as readily as it appeared, nonetheless the landscape appears to be taking quite the beating. All along the way, there have been cottages with roofs collapsed by the grisly remains of cats and dogs, craters in the ground from the buckets and hail-filled baskets, and troughs and puddles and gutters and ditches of putrid green pea soup. It's the sort of thing that might be amusing to talk about, but to actually have to dodge brass monkeys plummeting from the sky is no picnic.

After all of this, it's a positive marvel that March Manor, with its thatched roof, is so intact -- but then, recognizable landmarks of Wonderland seem to possess a magical resilience all their own.

Despite the dreary weather and the long slog, the group has made it through intact, bolstered in part by a hearty breakfast of treacle tarts served up under the shelter of a giant toadstool back in the Mushroom Forest some while back. (There was no sign of any hookah-smoking Caterpillar there, alas, to give them any useful tips, but at least it was a brief respite from the weather.) Now, it looks as if the prospect of more secure shelter against this dreadful downpour is within reach.

"Rabbits live in holes, Hares in houses," Griffin notes. "I shouldn't ascribe any significance to that though, even if it might dry my head faster."

"Just be mindful where you sit, lest you end up covered in fluff. Harey house and all," March quips.

The card peers out from under his umbrella glumly at the rain. "Cats, dogs, pea soup, and brass monkeys. Oil and the occasionan dash of flame. I shall be having a word with the weather desk, this is entirely untoward." He shakes off a sleeve, trying to avoid having the clingsome stuff drip onto his substance. "Is that your house up ahead, Harrison?"

"Presumably so! And intact at that ... mostly Which of course means some terrible doom is about to occur," March quips. The hare adjusts his coat and, well, marches towards it. How appropriate.

The door is ajar. That is, not literally a jar, but rather looking improperly secured. One must be careful to clarify that, because this is Wonderland, after all. It would seem that the housekeeper has been neglectful -- if, indeed, there ever was a housekeeper. Who would that be, after all? Surely not the Dormouse. He'd be asleep on the job, to be sure.

Achilles squelches through the grimy mud after Harrison. "Got Integra tucked safe and sound under your wing?" he wonders to Griffin. "We're almost there, but it'd be a shame to slip in the last yard."

"Yes, but does it look safe inside?" Griffin asks, waiting with Integra outside the threshold. "It could be full of.. antiques or something."

Hmm. This does not bode well at all. A foreboding abode, one might say," March remarks. Up comes his cane ... and he tries to push the door the rest of the way open with its tip.

Teacups crunch underfoot as the Hare makes his way to the door. The garden is covered in goop. The grapevine is withered and looks to be well beyond the ability to whisper rumors. There are a few moldy heads of lettuce in the garden, and some half-eaten carrots that've been plucked from the ground and gnawed upon. Despite that evidence of scavenging, however, at least the place doesn't look to be completely ransacked. But then, considering that it's pitch black dark inside, it's hard to be sure.

The double doors to the coach house, on the east (?) side, appear to be ajar as well. It's no brighter in there, either.

Checking for tracks would seem to be a sensible thing to do, but seeing as this is a greased lightning-storm, any signs of passage are quickly obscured in all of the attendant grease.

"Did you have a carriage, March?" Griffin asks, eyeing the outbuilding. "Err, what do you see?"

Achilles leans over to peer at the ground. "Blast! The rain has covered up any tracks," he utters. "I can see a myriad of tiny paw prints from the cats and dogs that have hit the ground, but they're leading away. And something must have gotten into the house, judging from the door. Or left it rather carelessly." He blinks at Harrison's exclamation and hurries forward to join the rabbit.

The hare grins, jaw slightly cockeyed. "I see a whole lot of dark!" he declares. Apparently when at home he seems to have the urge to be, well, a bit weird.

Integra, hunched under Griffin's wing, digs around in her apron, and produces a modest little candle. Now, the matter of lighting it remains.

"A candle.. would need to be lit indoors I fear," Griffin notes to his niece. "This rain could be flammable. We wouldn't want to fry the sky or anything."

"That is indeed dark, but I've heard 'tis better to light a candle than curse the darkness," suggests Achilles unrufflably. He produces a small matchbox.

And thus we pass a new threshold of adventure!" March announces as he steps over the door's threshold, stepping just inside and out of the greasy rain.

Just inside the door, at the corner of the house would be the coat room. One can tell, because there are a great many pelts hanging on pegs, where the March Hare's visitors would hang up their ... er ... coats. Now, something just does NOT seem quite right about that, but at least very little of the grease has intruded in here, save for a puddle near the door.

The coat room is oddly angled and oddly furnished. The boot bench is a sensible inclusion at least (and just to reassure the timid, there appear to be no puns involving removing one's FEET when entering the house, thank goodness), but as for the rest, it's a seemingly random collection of knickknacks and pictures and oddities crammed into every corner.

"Really March, just what sort of tea parties did you throw?" Griffin asks after looking over the pelts. "At least it should be safe to light the candle in here.

"This place has seen better days, and better parties," March admits, taking a moment to go examine the pelts; possibly to get a clue of what might still be here. "Since this is my home, I think I can leave my coat on. But ... Ace, start plucking Griffin, eh?"

The "pelts" appear to be complete fur coats, properly cut and assembled and with linings and all, not skins gorily ripped from animals -- or, at least, not RECENTLY. They'd look perfectly normal hanging in a wardrobe back in the Real World, save for the rather exotic markings and curious colors.

"I think I prefer myself to stay in one piece, Harrison," Achilles says dryly. "So I shall leave his feathers and fur where they are."

"Anyone need a new fur coat?" March offers as he lifts the tail of one with the tip of his cane. "These seem to have been here for a while. Anyway! We should get a fire going in the heath and make sure the bedrooms are in shape. It'll be nice to relax and let the storm pass, don't you agree? Why, we could even have some tea."

"I somehow distrust the coats," Griffin notes. "As for tea.. well, it wouldn't hurt to examine the state of the kitchen."

The card muses, "Since we intend to do a little reconnaissance on the Hatter's party, something in dark fur that would blend well with the shadows might prove useful for Integra."

"They're Wonderland coats though, Achilles," Griffin points out. "What if wearing one turns you into the animal that provided the fur?"

Just beyond the coat room, connected via a DIAGONAL doorway (the layout of this place is a bit eccentric, and quite apparently is NOT based on the layout of any actual place Harrison would have lived in back in the Real World), there's a foyer with a stylized suit of armor standing at attention against one wall, and a large grandfather clock. Just now, the clock bongs umpteen times. (What, you can't count to umpteen? A pity.)

Achilles kneels down to help with the fire. "Once we get this going," he volunteers. "I'll check around the house to see if we have any... unexpected visitors. Besides ourselves." To Griffin he retorts, "Pick out a cat for Integra, then she'll still be a queen!"

March sticks his head out into the hallway. "Heeelloooo!" he calls out. "Is there anyone here?"

"Someone must have been winding the clock," Griffin notes. "Unless the grandchildren clocks come 'round to do it."

"Maybe you should see if you can whip up some scone-ces in the kitchen with your gustatory magic, so you can find your way around on your own and you can eat it when you're done," Achilles teases as he gets the fire going.

"Be it ever some homely, there is no place like home. How much do you want to bet if there is a Library, I have a copy of Homer's tales? Which is arguably better than Homer's tail," the hare quips as he plods out in the the main room of his crazy home.

The card takes his lantern and goes on a patrol to better get an idea of the layout of the house. Perhaps it's familiar to Harrison, but to Achilles it's Terra Incognito, and moreover, the presence of fur coats suggests the un-coated animals might be around here somewhere.

"Those were just regular coats," March quips, "Not actually from pelted people. Probably ,ade from regular animals, or ... grown from a fir tree."

"Well, that's a relief, I was worried we were about to be streaked by a lyin' lion," replies Achilles. He peeks into what appears to be a room full of bookshelves. "I think this is the lie-brary."

Griffin carefully checks out the suit of armor, to make sure there isn't anyone inside of it.

"I can't say I like the looks of the room right next door, though. Some sort of dais with an occult-ish symbol... Perhaps the home of some of Harrison's stranger antiques?" wonders Achilles as he continues looking about.

Meanwhile, the March Hare finds that the pond at the heart of the house is still there, clearing and all. It's just like having his own private rabbity grove and clearing, but walled in, tiled, with a roof over it, and fully furnished. All right, so maybe it's not strictly like anything remotely natural at all, and as a bathtub goes, privacy leaves something to be desired.

"Thankfully the bathroom doesn't look like a giant stew pot!" March calls out, "That would be a bit disturbing."

Fortunately, the suit of armor is just that -- a suit of armor. It's in three distinct pieces, and has a bow tie. It's a formal suit of armor. It's also an empty suit. There's no one inside.

"A hare-suit for the hirsute.." Griffin muses over the armor. "Let us find the kitchen, Integra," he comments and takes her to join up again with the others.

"Over there's what looks like the kitchen," declares Achilles, passing into the mystical room. While his umbrella has been closed in deference to the roof overhead, he keeps it out as he passes through... Perhaps he remembers the incident with the cutlery in the inn's kitchen.

"Oh!" March says as he siddles up behind Ace. "This room is the larder," he claims as he peers around the card and at the weird occult trappings of the next room.

A chill breeze ventures forth from a strange room filled with arcane sigils, indicated by March as the larder. It's very o-cold in there.

"Well, it is cool for preserving things," Griffin notes and heads to the connecting kitchen.

"Well, you do have to have a cold heart to practice occult things. What better place to keep food fresh?" March points out.

The card peers into the kitchen with trepidation, but passes it by, presumably Griffin can take care of himself against any ingredients he might find inside. "Well, it can't be your heart keeping it cold or that room would have experienced a recent thawing when Miss Lucky was on the scene. Ah, this must be the dining room. Very cozy. You could seat six comfortably, or eight if they were friendly," Achilles comments.

The kitchen does indeed have kitcheny things, but organization is NOT a prime feature in any of this place. There are at least three stoves of completely different types, if one pokes through the clutter, and only one of them looks as if it might be fired up safely enough without choking the room up with smoke or setting random things atop it on fire. It looks like cutlery, dishes, pots, pans, etc., are all arranged by the rule of "Oh, just put it anywhere."

The dining room is woefully free of any proper chairs. Rather, there's a couch stuffed on each side of the table, and several books and other items have been stacked in the seat cushions, apparently in order to bring diners up to proper level to even reach the table. It would seem that all the more practical chairs got relocated to the mad tea party table outside, and these were what wouldn't easily fit through all the doors to join them.

"Do you have any actual.. spices or flour or such?" Griffin asks as he pokes about.

Integra helpfully reminds her uncle, "If this is at all like the OTHER house, then the flour is in the garden."

"Covered in grease?" Griffin asks. "That won't do at all. Let us find a pantry."

"Perhaps Integra has some spices handy in her apron?" suggests Achilles as he follows Harrison in circumnavigating the house. To the rabbit, he comments, "You, sir, have the biggest and fanciest shrine to personal hygiene that I have ever seen in a house."

"Why, why, it is just what we needed, a place to get a good drink," March declares as he follows Ace to the next room, then slips by him. "Why, where else can you get the absolutely best drinks but in a Hare Saloon? See over there? Creates of the finest teas! And over there, why ... barrels of the absolute best spirits! And things to drink, too."

His attention drawn by the mention of drinkables, Achilles stops to inspect the available refreshments. "Bear Beer? Red Bull Ale? Hare o' the Dog?" he muses, trying to decipher the labels.

After some poking around, Griffin finds that what he mistook for a cabinet is actually a doorway leading to some stairs down to the root cellar. It would appear to double as a pantry. (And that on top of the larder! Or, rather, underneath it.)

"Ah, this must be it," Griffin notes, and tells Integra, "Wait here while I go root around." He then descends the stairs.

"Drat, I'm all out of Holy Ale. And it is so hard to find," March laments as he rummages. "A drink? Sure, but you do realize I will have to bite you first."

Sounds of rattling chains come from one of the bottles, and a faint "oooOOOoooo!" Bottled spirits. The usual.

"Only if you want to be a dog for a change, then your bark would be worse than your bite," jests Achilles. He fishes out a handkerchief from his travel bag and uses it to clean out two glasses, before selecting some of the 'Hare o' the Dog' for decanting.

"And oh! If you find my closet, be wary. There are some hare-raising shoes in there," March counters with a snicker.

Suddenly, there is a long and drawn-out howl as something shoots out of the bottle that Achilles just opened. A hazy form coalesces, occupying a good portion of the room. Its outline, which can only be discerned out of the corner of one's eye -- not if one looks DIRECTLY at it -- is very canine ... and unfriendly.

"Aiee! It's a literal bottled bark!" yelps Achilles, falling back, He brings his umbrella swiftly up.

Reacting with trained reflex, the card slashes with his umbrella just as it attacks... But his razor-sharp umbrella point passes just inches from it!

Hitting something one can't actually SEE (not directly, anyway) proves to be quite difficult. It seemed as if Achilles was going to hit the dog, but it snapped from seemingly another direction. Still, snapping at a target who is two-dimensional if you approach just SO can be its own difficulty, and that attack misses as well.

The card barely weaves out of the dog's first attack! "Flank him!" he calls to Harrison, and tries to keep the dog-spirit's attention on himself, turning edge-on to the phantom dog.

"Ya! You call yourself a dog?" yelps Achilles as he whips his umbrella around in a hypnotizing series of feints and parries, trying to keep it busy. "If you were to huff and puff and try to blow down the piggies' houses, it'd be you that blew away! Roll over and show us your belly and we'll let you go."

At the sound of commotion, Griffin hurries back into the kitchen (albeit with an armful of various herbs and cooking supplies). "Integra, smack it on the nose with your scepter!"

"... Did you just order your niece to take on a dog single-handedly?" yells Achilles as he overhears that. "Worst. Uncle. Ever."

"Stay back, Integra!" yells the card as he struggles to keep the dog's attention with his umbrella, his own body on Edge to the card.

She swings the scepter around, but the little girl manages to hit nothing important.

Achilles yelps to Harrison, "Whatever you do, do it with force! Integra's crazy uncle told her to go attack this thing, we need to put it out of commission fast!"

"BAD DOG! BAD DOG!" Integra cries out, still swinging blindly. She apparently hasn't fully absorbed the full size of this monster.

"Bad dog! Bad!" March chastises the spirits-created critter. And perhaps it is because this is his home, but March doesn't use his gun ! Instead his foot twitches and the hare tries to thump the dog into next week!

The spirit-dog whines pitifully, and drops to its spirity haunches, giving the Hare big sad puppy dog eyes.

"Hmmm. It may be a bad dog, but it's your bad dog?" wonders Achilles, still keeping himself positioned carefully in regard to the apparently cowed dog.

March lowers his foot. "There, now that is much better. You know it is very poor manners indeed to bite the house guests!" the hare chides, then actually attempts to scratch it behind the ears. "I know they look weird, and smell weirder, but they are welcome here. And ... the one with feathers likes to be licked..."

And so it appears that this was the Dog of the Hare, that (almost) Bit Achilles.

The card slowly lowers his umbrella. "Hmm. I suppose it might have been a bit gauche to kill your pet puppy," he admits. "By the way, Integra, why did your uncle send you to attack the dog but not come himself? Did he have something cooking already that he couldn't leave?"

Integra still swings around, not hitting anything. "BAD DOG! BAD DO-- Huh? Oh. Did we win?"

In the kitchen, Griffin is putting down the supplies and finally coming to see what's going on. "Who let the dog out?" he asks.

"If you define winning as 'your uncle is about to receive a face full of phantasmic dog saliva', then yes," murmurs Achilles in a quiet voice to the girl, helping steady her and incidentally move her out of the way of the dog.

The dog's ghostly ears suddenly perk, as something approaches that smells simultaneously of BIRD and CAT. Oh wow! How to react?

"Be thankful it was not a keg of beer that had gone skunky. That could have been much worse," March points out, grinning lopsidedly. "Imagine trying to get that smell out."

Suddenly, Griffin is tackled by a rippling of the air. Snuffleslobbersnuffleslobbersnuffleslobberslobberslobber!

Achilles grins hugely. "That's for sending your niece into peril! Now, ah... Can you make your pound puppy go back in the bottle?" he wonders to Harrison.

"Be mindful of such tongue-in-cheek humor or I may have him lick again!" March quips.

"Peril?" Integra protests. "But I was around grown-ups the whole time! And I had permission."

Quoth the Dog of the Hare (still): slobberslobbersnuffledroolsniffleslurpslobber

"Now will you be a good hooch-pooch and go lie down back in your bottle?" March asks the dog in a sing-songy, babytalk sort of manner. "You can lick the birdy more later..."

"Integra, in the future.. when I suggest you use your scepter, I mean for you to shoot with it," the soggy Gryphon notes. "Now I need a.. BATH." He directs that last word right at the spirit-dog-thing.

"Nevertheless, you could have been bitten rather severely if he had mistaken you for an intruder before his master could correct him," says Achilles rather primly. "Really, what were you thinking, Griffin? Even a regular-sized pooch could be dangerous to your niece."

"I only heard the commotion, this is the first I've seen of the beast," Griffin notes, wiping stringy bits of slobber off himself. "Where did it come from?"

With a slurping-sucking-shwooping noise, the spirit-dog goes back into its bottle. For a brief moment, a hazy shape over the bottle seems to WAG, and then it's completely in. The bottle conveniently corks itself.

The slobber on the Griffin, meanwhile, wisps away in vapors, leaving a strange, tingly feeling.

Achilles points out, "You should say what you mean, lest Integra thinks you mean what you say." He blushes a bit at this last. "I, ah... assumed it to be some sort of tipple and had cracked it open to pour some for us."

Integra pulls out a handkerchief from her apron pocket, and helpfully offers it to her uncle to dry himself off more quickly.

"Now I smell like you do too," Griffin complains. "So.. all of this is because you wanted a drink? While I was rooting around for useful things with which to create more magical food that we might actually need?"

"Quite!" Achilles says, beaming. "Harrison, could you help me out by selecting some sort of beverage we might be able to drink without having to overpower it?"

"I'll be in the kitchen," Griffin says a bit coldly. "And I'd better not be extra flammable now. Integra, you're good with shapes.. would you like to help me make some animal cookies?"

The card considers. "Griffin flambe. Hmm. It would be a rather daring dish, but I would prefer the pleasure of your company at dinner to the pleasure of your comestibility," he says to the avian-cat hybrid, tipping his hat. "Be sure to yell out if you need our help manhandling some ingredients!"

In the course of rummaging around, Griffin finds, in surprisingly usable shape, some Rabbiteye Blueberries (which make one especially Alert upon consuming them), some Carrot Cake (which also make one rather alert, but more in the sense of noticing enchantments and things of Wonder), and, in the course of being slobbered upon, Griffin got a few ethereal hairs from the dog that slobbered on him. Since it didn't technically BITE him, that wouldn't be sufficient for a recipe of "Tonic of Hair of the Dog That Bit You," alas.

Achilles motions Harrison over to investigate the drinkables while Griffin is busy. "Perhaps some sort of wine to accompany dinner?" he suggests. "Preferably one that we won't have to stopper our ears while drinking."

In the kitchen, Griffin and Integra get to work.. and seem to be using a lot of spices.

Meanwhile March is digging through the 'supplies' in the saloon, looking to see what might just be useful to take with them. It may also be he doesn't entirely trust things Griffin cooks!

After whipping up another herb-cake to replace the one fed to the Dark Horse, Griffin looks over the other things he's scavenged. "We can share out the blueberries and carrot cakes," he tells Integra.

"Oh! I do love carrot cake. I shall find Mr. Johnson and Mr. March and give them some!" Integra says, as she skips off to check on the social drinkers.

Achilles looks over the wine selection. "White whines, red whines, yellow whines... Wait, is this 'h' I keep seeing in the labels a scribe's error?" he wonders to Harrison.

Deciding to forestall any new mishaps, Griffin eats the carrot cake he baked before, and has a look at the wines and other 'spirits' March has available..

As Griffin looks through some of the labels available, he finds a few odd titles. There's a bottle of Hare Tonic, for instance. After munching on some carrot cake, he's positively certain that one is magical. Indeed, just about every bottle in here has SOME sort of magical effect.

"I'm not sure now is the time to be seeking some bottled comfort, Achilles," Griffin reports. "Just about everything here is magical."

Due to the peculiar rules of Wonderlandish foodstuffs, March has to give a wall-nut to Achilles so that he doesn't have "too many" magical foodstuffs when he takes on the blueberries and the carrot cake. Nothing explodes, so they must be doing it right.

Harrison hands Ace a wall-nut, then accepts Integra's kind offer of cake and blueberry cluster. "You are such a polite little girl and such wonderful manners! It is amazing that you are related to Griffin," he jokes.

Achilles looks a bit downcast, but accepts the carrot cake and a portion of blueberries from Integra. "Truly, it's astounding!"

Other bottle labels that Griffin spies include ... aha! Bottled Comfort. Liquid Courage. Strong Licker. There's also a bottle of Fermented Punch.

"This is quite a collection you have, March," Griffin notes as he identifies the bottles.

"You know me, I specialize in collecting the bizarre. They always sell well," March points out.

Achilles peers closer at the label as Griffin identifies a bottle as "Bottled Comfort". "Perhaps Integra could use a spot of that, she's seemed a little... distraught ever since the Incident at the Tracks," he suggests to the bird-cat thing.

"Of course, it might just summon a pile of pillows to form a castle... a com-fort," the reporter admits.

Outside, it sounds as if the weather has no intention of letting up. If anything, it's only a matter of time before the weather manages to come up with some even more dangerous pun. The warm candlelight (the house is full of sconces and lamps and lanterns ready to bit lit as the group explores it) and even the cluttered confines are a far preferable environment.

"This Liquid Courage might be worth taking with us though," Achilles muses as he passes the bottle of Bottled Comfort to the experts for assessment. "God only knows that the depths into which we're diving grow ever more fearful."

"It isn't something you drink.. that would be bad," Griffin notes, but notes to March. "It would be handy to have along. So long as Ace is not the one to carry it."

"A sip of liquid courage and a berry cluster before going to the Hatter's party might be good," the Gryphon suggests.

"Oh! Right! I bought that bottle when I thought I might go camping. If you open it outside, it makes a shelter. Very useful! If you open it inside, it makes it furnished very tastefully. Well, by our standards. If a swine opened it it might make a mess," March explains after eying the bottle of Comfort for a moment. "The other bottle just makes you feel less scared for a bit."

"Integra might carry the Comfort then," the reporter suggests. "We are hardy sorts, used to surviving outdoors, but I worry about her health in these severe weather conditions. And Griffin's been getting rather citified himself."

Griffin examines the Strong Licker (which already has disturbing connotations due to recent events) and the Fermented Punch.

Integra looks dubious. "Mama wouldn't be happy for me to be carrying around spirits. Those are for grown-ups."

"I imagine you'd have to point that at the person you desire to be 'punched'," Achilles observes to Griffin.

"Here, Integra, I'll take that bottle if you'll hold onto this extra cake," Griffin offers.

"Now that I think about it, Integra seems a bit heavily burdened," Achilles offers before Griffin can hand Integra the carrot cake helpfully. "Best not to toss that onto the stack, it could be the proverbial straw."

"I don't think we quite need the Strong Licker. All it does is produce a giant spectral tongue that licks whatever it was pointed at," March remarks. "That was a party gift..."

Achilles muses. "Well, we should bring something to the party for the Hatter..."

Nodding to Ace, Griffin says, "Are you thinking of bringing the Punch as a gift?"

"Only a good idea if he doesn't know what it does. Otherwise ... it may just make him meaner," March warns.

"Perhaps! We should prepare ourselves with treacle and blueberry tarts before we set out to the Hatter's," Achilles muses. "We can pick it up and wrap it before we go."

"If you must have a drink though, Ace, the Strong Licker should be fine for your needs," Griffin claims. "Best if you drink it alone though. In another room."

The reporter smirks at Griffin's attempt to retaliate for the dog-licking. "Pull the other one, I wasn't born yesterday."

"Listen to that Greased Lightning," Griffin says. "I think we need to hole up here until the weather passes, at least.. or else try to find the Hatter by tunneling underground. It's not safe out there."

Achilles peers up at the roof with the steady patter of ... well, perhaps not hail. "I doubt we'd make good time in this weather. Say, did you and the Hatter actually build a tunnel to each others' houses?" he asks of Harrison. "Or did I mishear?"

"Well, the only other thing I can think of to travel the storm safely.. is to steal some of March's roof thatch, which is what seems to be protecting us from the storm as it is magical in nature," Griffin says.

"I recommend we just wait the storm out. Rest here, recover, and get prepared," March quips.

"The Hatter is throwing a party, so I don't think he would come here instead of waiting for us," Griffin says, nodding to Harrison.

Achilles nods. "Then let's continue with looking about and making sure it is safe," he says, suiting his words to his actions as he pushes on.

"We may yet find something useful, aside from beds," the Gryphon notes, and follows the card. Also, perhaps, to make sure Achilles doesn't release any more monsters.

The card nibbles on one of the extra blueberry clusters as he goes. He peers around edgily, maybe a bit... rabbit-like?

With a quick check, Achilles confirms that he still has that curious invitation from the Hatter. "YOU are cordially invited to a Haberdashery Party at the Mad Hatter's Estate, located THAT WAY, to be held YOU KNOW WHEN. Don't forget to bring a head! And don't lose it on the way!" No, it doesn't make any more sense now than before. However, something strikes him as familiar about the "YOU KNOW WHEN" part. Didn't he see something that said that, just a few moments ago?

"Oh, right. My wardrobe! Off the bedroom, where I keep all my clothing. Storage for fancy dress, party attire, and a lot of stockings," March quips, pointing to a set of stocks stuffed with stockings. "Why? Have you seen the size of me feet? We go through a lot of stockings," March claims. "It's also overflow for party things, like extra teapots and all that. Everything an aspiring hare host requires to be the life of the party! Sew there."

Achilles frowns, then leans over the table to Harrison (the rabbit being smaller than himself) and shows him the invitation. "Speaking of parties, I just recalled about this invitation... When I glanced at your clock in the foyer, it possessed nothing so mundane as roman numerals, or even Arabic. Instead, it measured time as 'Yesterday', 'Tomorrow', 'Not Yet', 'Soon', and suchlike measures... If your clock is to be believed, it is currently 'Umpteen O' Clock'. And of course, somewhere on that dial, I believe I spied the words, 'You Know When.'"

"Don't touch any of the stockings, Integra," Griffin whispers to his niece. "We know where they've been. Help me look for hats."

"Also of concern is the rather underscored desire that we bring 'a head'," Achilles adds. "Griffin, are you looking for hats so you can locate the mannequin heads on which they might be situated?"

"Basically, I think whenever it is we decide to leave to go find the Hatter is when it will be the right time," March points out. "Makes perfect sense to me."

"Hwark?" Griffin asks, looking to Achilles. "Well.. it's a haberdashery party, so.. I assume that means working on hats. So of course we'd need a head model. And hats or hat making supplies."

The reporter-shaped card scratches behind one ear thoughtfully. "Hmm... Well, you're not the White Rabbit, so you shouldn't have his problems with time slipping away," he agrees. To Griffin, he elaborates, "I suspect the Hatter will provide hats. We will provide heads. If we don't bring heads, our heads will be used. And if the Hatter's hats are deadly as most of the Queen's minions are, then our heads will be lost."

Integra pokes around the room. "Oh! I found some bunny slippers! And this might be a hat, but it has big HOLES in it. And I think these used to be flowers, but it looks like they've been eaten off."

"And we'll need lots of different heads. Shapes, sizes, species," March adds, "Maybe we should check the carriage house to see if I stashed old models there."

"If only there were a Missus March Hare who kept a collection of wigs," Griffin laments. "Of course, the carriage house! That's the last place one would look for heads!"

Achilles recommends, "One head apiece. You might be able to get away with that shard of poor old Humpty Dumpty, Harrison."

"Or we could use the helmet from the suit of armor in the coat room," Griffin supposes, tapping the end of his beak.

"We could also use one of the old heads of lettuce," March then adds. "And maybe the larder has some head cheese."

Achilles chuckles. "Well, that's Griffin sorted out then. Let's look around some more, we may find other head-like things. Perhaps there'll be a head cheese in the larder or the pantry."

"And ace, you of all people are missing the obvious head for you. A headline," March says, grinning.

The reporter facepalms. But rabbitily peers out the side of his eyes as he moves on toward the bedroom. "I'll try to find one then. Why don't you take over and inspect your bedroom? You'd be the one to know if anything's out of place."

Griffin peeks around Achilles, to make sure there isn't anything in the bedroom to traumatize little Integra.

"Indeed! I will ensure that no one has violated the sanctity of by bedroom," March agrees, and the hare plods his way into the bedroom.

The bedroom is cluttered but clean, with an over-abundance of furnishings and decor, but at least there aren't any embarrassing dirty clothes left to sprout fungus in the Hare's prolonged absence.

"Breaking news! No pictures of scantily clad rabbits exposing their ankles discovered in March's bedroom," reports Ace as he withdraws to investigate the other room so that Harrison can have a bit of privacy. "World shocked!"

In fact, one might even wonder that the room is surprisingly free of dust. Could someone have been maintaining it in the Hare's absence?

The room looks suspiciously dust-free to March's eyes. TOO dust-free. However, he glances down and notices what looks like a tiny bit of lint peeking out from underneath the bedcovers. And by peeking out, it seems to be rather literal, at that.

March's nose twitches a lot. "Dust bunnies!" the hare declares and backs towards the entrance. "Best to let a sleeping bunny lie. Unless we have a nice lemony cleaner at hand..."

The reporter peers into the 'Pool Hall'. "Well, there's a source of water close to hand," he observes.

"Now I like a nice bunny as much as the next Hare, but a bunch of dust bunnies is a bit much!" the Hare declares as he backpedals out of the bedroom, closing it in his wake!

Achilles turns, looking over his shoulder to the bedroom. He cannot see the armada of dust-bunnies with rather distressingly shark-like teeth that has leaped out to startle the rabbit, but he can see Harrison's eyes widen in surprise. He grips his umbrella harder and turns. "March! I'm on my way!" he yells.

"Griffin, back us up, Harrison and I will hold the door," Ace advises the avian as he pushes forward and takes up a guard position.

Griffin gets his rifle ready, and tells Integra to retreat back to the saloon.. and fetch the bottle of Hard Licker.

The door is of nice, sturdy construction. No two doors in the house are exactly alike (every single one of them was a bargain!) but never was the Hare inspired to go cheap on the doors to his personal bedroom at least.

"Is there any other way out of that room that they could follow?" Griffin asks March.

Integra cries out, "Okay, Uncle! I'll get it right away!" She rushes off, riding the little rocking-nightmare so she can do so even more quickly.

"Stand back a bit, you don't want them to get too close to shoot," Achilles says in an insistant whisper as he listens for the sounds of approaching hostile natives-- er, dustbunnies.

Integra, her apron pockets already stuffed with Magic Foodstuffs, reaches for the Bottle of Hard Licker....

"There is a set of doors opening out onto a veranda off the courtyard," March answers quickly as he thinks on the layout of his house here. "Great place for breakfast, that veranda..."

"I've got it, Uncle Paisley!" Integra cries out, holding the bottle aloft. Then, it suddenly shakes and shivers. "Oh?" Integra inquires, looking at it.

Suddenly, the bottle EXPLODES. A great ethereal tongue sweeps through the room. Integra squeals! Even the rocking-nightmare looks alarmed!

There is a great burst of slobbering and slavering and drooling and generally uncivilized behavior. Fortunately, despite that whole exploding-bottle business, somehow Integra is NOT filled with broken glass. Nonetheless, she's stammering and visibly shaken from the experience.

Achilles looks back over his shoulder. "Good lord," he murmurs, his normally off-white pasteboard growing pastier white. "Your poor, poor niece! I warned you that she was at her limit on how much she could juggle!"

Meanwhile, almost lost in the shuffle, there's a strange noise coming from the bedroom. It sounds like ... chalk? On a chalkboard? What could be going on in there?

The reporter, unwilling to get between the rabbit and the doorknob, listens to the adjoining wall frustratedly. Could they be scratching at the door?

March catches a glimpse of ... oh no. It's too horrible. The dust bunnies have a little school-room tablet, and one of them has some chalk. It's doing its figures. 2x2 is 4, 3x3 is 9, and so on. Why they ... they're ...

"It sounds exactly like chalk on a chalkboard," Achilles whispers. "I had no idea you ran a schoolhouse."

"Multiplying?!" Achilles blanches. "Then-- we have no choice. Open the door and step back, we'll let them in and slice them up as they come. Griffin, go take care of your niece!"

"How about closing the other doors?" Griffin suggests as he heads for the Saloon.

The card turns on edge to the door, anticipating the arrival of the first dust bunnies.

"Do it if you can, but make sure your niece is all right first," Achilles orders Griffin.

"Right, so, this is bad! We need to lure the bunnies outside, I think! It's still raining, and uh, dust can be washed away," March babbles on. If I open the door and maybe run /through them, then out onto the veranda, they might follow me. Of course, they might also kill me."

"It'd be like wading through a piranha pool!" expostulates Achilles. "You'd be killed! Go around the other way and lure them out from the far side."

"Right, well, I recommend we retreat and try to lure them out then. Trying to fight that horde directly is futire! Back to the entrace, everyone!" March announces, and runs back the way they came.

"Outside would be good, but if we have cleaning supplies like a broom or a mop we could stop them with that," Griffin says. "If we stand in water they may not be able to get to us."

The card lumbers after the Harrison, but is no match for his fleet feet! "Curse you, wind resistance!"

"Mind the pool room and the large balls! And oh, watch out in the parlor too. The stuffed chairs are oh so comfy!" Maarch can be heard to shout as he disappears through the house!

Achilles chases Harrison through the pool hall! He pauses near a door to a different room. "I'll close this door as well!" he yells to Harrison. "Don't get killed trying to lure them by yourself!"

Integra is still there, on the back of the rocking-nightmare, shaking and sobbing. "I'm so sorry, Uncle Paisley!" she cries. "I didn't mean to drop it! It was probably worth a fortunnnnnnnne!" she wails.

"It's my fault for forgetting how much you already had with you," Griffin says, closing the door to the wardrobe behind him as he rushes into the saloon.

Integra sniffles and wipes at her eyes. "I forgot, too!" She seems to be snapping out of it at last.

Reaching forward, Achilles shuts the well room's door. He pauses for a second, listening to see whether the ravening dust bunnies have managed to breach the wardrobe.

There's a dusty rumble on the other side of the door. The dust bunnies seem to be focusing on multiplying to the point of filling the room and anything adjacent.

As March makes his way into the area of the house that's reserved for the carriages and whatever is used to pull them, he finds that he is next to a large stack of crates of something that had been delivered to his house. Now, what WAS it that he had ordered?

March is still the fleet hare. "My house! If you carriage at all, you wouldn't ruin my house," the poor hare wails. The hare then stops mis-step to stare at the crates. "I can't remember, did I order seltzer bottles for the next party?" he wonders.

The crates have some intriguing labels and handwritten notes. Among them: "Seltzer Bottles," "Cleaning Supplies," "Carriage Horse (Some Assembly Required)," "Inflatable Bladders," "Novelty Hats," "Bubble Soap," and "Bunny Slippers (Bulk)."

Nearby is a large metal bar with a curiously-shaped end to it, shaped vaguely like a crow's head.

March grabs the bar so that he can pry open the crates! "This way, everyone. Seltzer and soap for everyone! It'll be one one heck of a spring cleaning party! Whoohah!." the hare ... crows.

"On my way! Surprise bed inspection, can you bounce a shilling off your blankets or have you been slacking, soldier?!" calls Achilles as he runs forward.

The first crate is opened. Seltzer bottles! A crate-ful! For any party thrown by someone with the initials "M.H.," there's just no such thing as going halfway about it.

"Here, arm yourself with great fizz of righteousness," March remarks to Ace and offers him one of the bottles. "We shall show our enemies that a clean fight will always be victorious over a dirty one!"

"Stay near the pool," Griffin tells Integra. "Jump in if a dust bunny shows up!" he instructs as he keeps running through the Pool Hall towards the others.

The reporter accepts the seltzer bottle. "After you, old chap. We shall wipe away the filth of their unchecked multiplication!"

Up ahead, the bunnies start SPILLING out of the adjoining room. The carriage, somewhere around the corner, must be buried in dust. There's only a little left of the doors leading outside ... and even then, it would mean squeezing past these monsters -- an uncomfortably close squeeze.

"Right! "Hey, I just bet you would like to get a hold of this cute bunny tail! Well, you'll just have to chase meeee!" March cackles as he grabs a bottle and runs for the carriage door ... then out into the rain!

The avalanche of dust bunnies visibly lurches out in a gambit to try to swallow up the March Hare, but he makes it out into the greasy rain.

Achilles pushes forward, but is unable to catch up to Harrison's exceeding speediness! "I'll guard the cleaning surprise!" he yells to his friend. He strikes a Florentine position, umbrella in one hand and seltzer bottle in the other. "Griffin, grab yourself a bottle when you can, and we'll through into the rain!"

The reporter, seeing Griffin has arrived, makes grabbing motions and then points upward. "Fly over their heads," he yells. "Shake the seltzer bottles up and throw them like bombs!"

Hurrying to the crates, Griffin looks at the horde of bunnies.. then at the supplies. He grabs a seltzer bottle and sprays towards the avalanche of dust.. but also has his eye on the bucket and soap.. and is that a mop?

"Outside, get into the rain so if they jump at you, they'll have to risk dissolution!" Achilles yells.

In the panic of the moment, the seltzer bottle blasts into the wall right behind the crates. Great geysers of Gethsemane! That's quite a blast!

The Gryphon is knocked backward by the force! The seltzer bottle soon loses its "oomph," however. But there ARE more where that came from, in the crate.

"Mind the kick!" Griffin calls out to the others.. especially if they're going to be standing in greasy mud.

"Don't panic, don't-- oh, you panicked. Hold tight, Harrison and I will try to draw them away," the hard-bitten card reporter says as he sees the griffin fumble and shoot the wall. He runs out toward Harrison, diving past the nearest dust bunny, and once he's out in the open, pops his umbrella to shield himself from the rain while rolling toward the friendly rabbit in the scenario.

"Come on, bunnies, you think you're so special because you can multiply? Let me show you how to divide!" yells Achilles, making a distinct 'come and get it' gesture with his hand.

One of the dust bunnies appears to be so furious, it shakes back and forth ... and then explodes in a puff of dust!

The dust bunnies explode in numbers, soon swarming the poor Gryphon. Several fall out of the carriage house and into the greasy rain, soon reduced to little quivering smudges on the ground.

March dances around a bit and tries to get the bunnies attention, "Pthththt! I'm over here you goons!" he crows. And to add injury to insult, he tries to blast the ones in the doorway with the seltzer!

Seeing the rabbits suddenly burst into a frenzy of multiplication, far beyond what should be possible in any sane and rational universe, Ace grits his teeth. "Unless you can think of some way to kill them all instantly, the house is lost!" he yells at Harrison through the driving wind. "Griffin! Fly over them and grab Integra, and escape! You'll have to keep out of their leaping range!"

The reporter stares a bit dumbfoundedly at the powerful wash of seltzer. "... What brand of seltzer did you buy again?" he asks.

With a mighty SPEW of seltzer, dust bunnies are reduced to sludge everywhere within site inside the doors. The March Hare would well have been sent backward at some pace, if he hadn't put his back against a big pile of debris that had collected in his front yard. This seems to have gotten the attention of the bunnies. They drop their chalkboards.

"Fraptuous Fizz! For when your parties need to go out with a bang," March quips.

In the corner of the carriage house, the dust bunnies focus on trying to SMOTHER the feathered gryphon, but with his back in the corner, at least they can't quite surround him, and he manages to keep his head above the fray (literally).

"We've got to save the seltzer bottles!" calls Achilles. "Griffin! Griffin! Are you all right in there? I'm coming to your aid!"

"I'm coming Integra!" Griffin calls out when he hears the scream, his feathers puffing out.

"Fight your way to the seltzer bottles, Griffin! Use one to clear your path!" yells Achilles as he pushes forward, despite the tidal wave of bunnies pouring through the entrance of the carriage house.

The reporter slashes at the dust bunny that boldly leaps out at him! "March, ware your 2 o' clock!" he calls.

A few dust bunnies spill out of the open doors of the carriage house, but begin to melt in the greasy rain. They haven't a chance against either Achilles or March -- not if only so few are going to trickle out, half charging, half simply forced out by sheer pressure exerted by the swollen numbers inside the house.

Thinking quickly, the reporter leaps over the nearest dust bunny and rabbit as they engage in a fight of good versus evil, and falls back against another stacked pile of debris! He turns his seltzer bottle to attempt to sweep away the menaces to cleanliness and life and limbs.

It takes frantic seconds in which the reporter desperately tries to line up his one good eye with the door through the rain, but at last he feels like he's got it, the right position... He unleashes a hard blast of seltzer water!

Achilles has his hands full trying to target the bottle while also shielding himself from the greasy rain with his umbrella. The seltzer bottle's blast almost sends him sliding up the debris pile like a ramp, but still he holds fast.

Just as it seems that Griffin was about to be swarmed in dust bunnies, suddenly he's drenched in seltzer! Fortunately, so is just about everything else. When he manages to clear his eyes, he can see that the space between him and freedom is open ... or the way between him and the crates of supplies.

"Go, go, go!" yells Achilles as he's flattened against the rock, pulling himself away to avoid becoming soggy. "We have to secure the seltzer bottles at all cost!"

March pops his knuckles as he walks back into the building. Upon reaching the chest he grabs a seltzer bottle, then aims back down the carriage hall and fires!

With his back braced against the crates, the Hare manages to resist the ridiculous kickback from the seltzer bottle. The dust bunnies who just came around the corner of the carriage house, however, aren't so lucky. When the spray clears out, they're gone.

Still, judging by the smell of dust lingering in the air, and the shuffle-shuffle, shuffle-shuffle all around, it seems that there are yet more where they came from.

Catching sight of Griffin in the corner, Achilles yells, "Arm yourself, man! Bird! You don't stand a chance if they overwhelm you!"

"Splash water at them Integra!" Griffin yells, and runs north towards the Pool Hall, flapping and flailing his wings around like giant crazed feather dusters in an attempt to sweep any dust bunnies from his path.

In the Pool Hall, Integra is splashing water around ineffectively, save that she's at least encouraging the dust bunnies to hop around and avoid the puddles. Quite a few of them are scurrying up the wall, and look as if they're so bold that they're going to try to mass up and then LEAP upon her from above once they get into position....

Upon entering the Pool Hall, Griffin heads for Integra and keeps sweeping at the Dust Bunnies with his wings.

The veteran turned reporter curses as he sees Griffin fleeing into the house without a seltzer bottle to hand. "Jumping Jehosephat! That impetuous fool! We're going to have to cover his tail," he calls to March. "You go after him and clean up the rear, I'll secure the crates."

As what seems like a tidal wave of fluffiness swarms out of the dark corners of the house, Achilles spots a dust bunny that sees him at the same time! He spares a few seconds of precious rain coverage to slice through it mid-lunge.

Dust bunnies pour through the carriage house and adjoining rooms, stampeding to converge upon March. Perhaps they have sensed that the crates hold their doom, so they're moving to bury them in dust. Along chandeliers, shelves, knickknacks, the tops of doors, windowsills -- anywhere you might find dust, they roll and bounce along. Several hurl themselves at March, but he fends them off deftly.

March, sensing dusty doom, winds his watch! As things seem to slow down around him, he grabs a bottle ... then just half-heartily underhand tosses it a few feet in front of himself. "I know I'm about to get wet, but ... what else can I do?" the hare thinks.

The card yelps, tilting his umbrella down briefly as he sees the bottle clattering by! As the accurately aimed explosion washes foam out the door, he thumbs-up. "That's why they call you Hole-In-One Harrison," he yells companionably.

The seltzer bottle explodes forcefully, sending sprays in all directions. March only gets a light spray, while Achilles is shielded by the wall of the carriage house, seeing as the center of the explosion was past the door. Around the corner, the force is channeled to take out several more dust bunnies. One lone dust bunny in the nook of a corner manages to avoid the burst that comes through an open doorway, but sees several of its compatriots reduced to sludge. Alas, this doesn't seem to impact dust bunny morale much. They can always multiply some more when this is over with, after all.

The remaining dust bunnies in the wings appear to be stampeding, largely ignoring the cornered Gryphon and little girl as they make a mad assault on the March Hare and his stash of seltzer bottles and cleaning supplies.

Seeing his path clear, the reporter runs in and takes up position next to where Harrison is hastily re-arming himself! He loads himself up with several seltzer bottles, anticipating the onrush of the bunnies.

Now that Achilles no longer needs his umbrella for protection from the rain, he drops it to a defensive position and awaits the inevitable charge of the bunnies.

In the pool, the Gryphon is puffed-up and hissing. He flaps his wings to try and 'dust' the fluff-bunnies before him, or scatter them - how much can they weigh? "Keep splashing, Integra!" he squawks.

Integra brightens as her uncle comes to her rescue. With renewed purpose, she improvises a different method of delivery. She takes her apron, holding it out to hold a great amount of water, and then splashes dust-bunnies all around! The little monsters appear to be taken aback by her sudden assault!

One dust bunny after another in the Pool Hall is reduced to a damp, soggy mess. This place is going to need SUCH a mopping. One last quivering dust bunny hides in the corner, looking for its chance to find another avenue ... but then with a hiss and a flurry of feathers from the Gryphon -- it is no more! The Pool Hall is CLEARED!

Squinting down the hall, the reporter determines there must be more dust bunnies lurking in the recesses of the carriage house. "Come on out, you little boll weevils, I haven't even gotten to the best part yet-- SUBTRACTION!" He waves his umbrella past the door jamb and takes position, preparing for the onslaught. All he has to do is hold them off so they can't get past him, then seltzer-spray the living daylight out of them.

March grabs a bottle from the crate and eyes through the doorway. He then throws that bottle into the adjacent room, intent on wiping out the remaining bunnies in that direction!

The bottle careens wildly, banging against some furniture, knocking over several knickknacks, landing on a shelf, rolling along and sending porcelain figurines crashing left and right ... but then ... it teeters ... it ... DROPS! And then it EXPLODES! The spray settles, and the room is free of dust. (Not that it isn't in need of some picking up, though.)

"Do you hear any more back there?" yells Achilles as he keeps his one good eye on the shadows in front of him. "There's got to be at least a baker's dozen in the room left of me, and I hear a lot more in the back!"

"I think there are still more. MArch collects two more bottles, then heads east now, where the buggers have ravaged his bedroom!

As March rounds the corner, he can see it -- a veritable army of dust bunnies who have overtaken his bedroom (HIS bedroom!) and are on the march through his carriage house. Onward they come! Housecleaning never looked so perilous!

As Achilles sees the rabbit zoom past him, his feet blurred by time, he yells, "Careful! Back to the wall, they could surround you!"

The dust bunnies march up on March, making lame attempts at attacking him, but it too late becomes evident that this was a mere diversionary tactic. From above and behind, more dust bunnies pile on the Hare, smothering him! He's soon buried in dust!

Meanwhile, another prong of this attack spills through another doorway, as more dust bunnies attempt to overwhelm Achilles.

It seemed like a good enough plan, but suddenly the dust bunnies attack Achilles from behind with more ferocity than he had anticipated! They seem to have no concern for their own wellbeing whatsoever!

"AIGH! DIE DEVIL BUNNIES!" yells Achilles, panicked. He executes his planned fire plan a little hastily, unleashing seltzer water all over the passage to the east, his back to the crates.

Just when it looked as if Harrison was going to be completely choked by dust, he gets a brief reprieve as he's hosed down by a spray of high-powered seltzer!

"Don't die, Harrison! You can't die before we strangle you for breeding dust bunnies in your house!" yells Achilles.

The reporter grimly throws the emptied bottle away and readies his second one, hunkering down with hs umbrella for the neverending onslaught of bunnies. "Shake yourself out of it, Harrison!" he yells. "Griffin! Integra! We need backup, now!"