Of Music and Wine, No Cheese, Sabotage in Marseille

[Clover]

((Having not seen the attack coming, the bartender's head lashes backwards to compensate for the blow. When it snaps back, he's sporting an impressive broken, bleeding nose. In seconds he's rebounding and throwing punches at Joker; the man is remarkably deft and manages to dodge every blow by the giant. That is, until he's restrained by a patron from behind. The first blow is a low one that connects with his stomach, knocking the air out of him but doesn't remove that smirk on his lips.

This is Fortune's chance to get into the cellar, but if she does, Joker'll no doubt be beaten to a bloody pulp, perhaps even within inches of his life. The French aren't known to be kind to people who interrupt their drinking.))

[Fortune Fortescue]

Fortune was certain that getting pummeled into a bloody pulp was in fact Joker's plan, but that did not mean that she had to go along with it.

"This is a terrible plan!" she shouted to herself. She had to be quick, she knew it. She was not about to let Joker get himself killed over such a cause that was rapidly losing importance in her eyes. Lighting a tavern on fire was not worth death. Who was to say that it would even create chaos? Who was to say it would cause anything but a horrible tragedy of innocent lives?

Fortune was always looking for inspiration for songs, for bravery and honor. If even one person died in the fire, she would never sing of it. There was no honor in killing innocent people. Yet she had committed, she had accepted the weight and burden of the mission. Joker was getting beat for nothing if she backed out now.

She already had her coat ripped. The opened wine bottle was in her hands. A lantern was near her on the bar. The door to the cellar was within reaching distance. Knuckles pounding into Joker's flesh made Fortune's stomach lurch.

She had to do something.

With as fast a speed as she could manage, which happened in three quick swooping movements, Fortune stuffed the bottle and lit it, pulled onto the cellar door handle to open it and yank herself onto the bar, then flung the bottle down into the darkness below. She was not going to waste time scoping out the basement. At this point, she did not care if the place lit up or not. What she cared about was getting Joker out alive.

"Fire!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. "Fire! There's a fire! We have to get out!" She could not tell if people were listening, there was no time to. She hopped from the bar and grabbed the arm of the bartender. "There's a fire!" she told him desperately, but he shook her off in time for a second swing. "You have to stop! There's a fire! Please stop!" The large man absolutely refused to listen to her, despite her yelling directly into his ear.

"Let him go!" she shouted, shoving herself between Joker and his attacker, though took a solid blow to the face with the action. She fell to the ground, her head spinning, her jaw burning from the pain of impact.

"Fortune!" Joker gasped.

The bard was used to a lot of things from her life on the streets, but pain from a punch to the face was not one of them. She could not help herself from crying, the shooting pain from her cheek to the rest of her head was immense.

"You son of a -" Joker growled, to be cut short by another punch.

Fueled by a new fury and a sudden hope that the bar would catch on fire and a select few of its inhabitants would not be able to escape, Fortune pulled herself to her feet. Tears still fell from her eyes and she still wanted to curl up in the fetal position from the pain. Yet something was driving her. Something a lot like hate.

"Let. Him. Go." she said again. "Now!" Without pause, she raised her foot and slammed it down as hard as she could on the patron holding her thief friend. The drunken man retracted a little, enough for Joker to shake loose of his hold and slug the bartender in the jaw.

Fortune grabbed Joker by the arm and urged him toward the exit, hoping the confusion and rabble would give them enough time to escape.

"Fire! Fire! There's a fire!" Fortune continued to yell as they rushed toward the door.

(( Does Fortune's thrown bottle start a fire in the wine cellar? Does the confusion within the tavern allow for the duo to escape? ))

[Clover]

((The wine in the cellar ignites thanks to Fortune's actions, and in the ensuing chaos, Joker and Fortune get separated from one another. People begin to shriek as smoke begins to fill the tavern, and like animals fleeing from a slaughter they push and shove one another to get through the narrow entrance/exit of the place.

Fortune ultimately makes it outside in time to see the back of the tavern go up in flames. People continue to pour out of the death trap. There's no sign of Joker, though.))

[Fortune Fortescue]

Chaos. Fortune now knew the true meaning of the word. The cellar had lit after all, and the people were running around in frantic desperation for their lives, just as expected. Though in this scenario, Fortune was one of them. She pushed her way through the crowd, shoving her way to the exit. The air was getting stuffy with gray smoke. The tavern was burning much faster than she had anticipated. She panicked a little, not wanting to die in such a place, in such a country! She went with the crowd, pushed through the bottleneck, then fell out the other side of the door. She scrambled to her feet and away from the building before she could get trampled.

She felt a little better when she reached the outside, though her face still hurt and tears still lined her eyes. Her nose agreed with the fresh night air much better than the smoke and sweat inside the burning tavern. At last she could breath calmly, and she did deeply - until she realized Joker was no longer beside her.

She looked around in search but did not see his face among the masses. More patrons of the tavern poured out into the street, but she did not see him. Onlookers were starting to gather, people were beginning to flood the street. She searched around them, the faces of people she could see, but she saw no sign of her smirking companion.

"Joker?" she called out, then again, louder. "Joker?!" Despite her screaming, she could barely hear her own voice over the cackle of the flames, the prayers and speculations of the onlookers, and the shouts of the people still trapped inside. She felt her stomach flip over at the thought and sudden terror of reality. Joker was possibly still inside.

The tavern was beginning to lean to one side, dark smoke was pouring out of its broken windows. The line of people running through the door was smaller now, the bartender was among them. Fortune ran to him feeling the hate rise inside of her. What if this large man had trapped Joker inside?

"Where is the man you were beating?" Fortune asked him, her voice heavy with accusation. The bartender did not even look at her, he just kept walking. Fortune grabbed his arm and yanked. "Where is he?!" she demanded in a shout, and the tears in her eyes fell down her cheeks. She had no time to think of the cause.

The man shook loose of her grasp and walked off with several scowling patrons into the crowd, leaving her questions unanswered. She turned from them, devastated, and looked back toward the burning building. It was looking disheveled and seemed as if it would collapse at any moment.

She did not think twice to run back inside to find him. She kept her head low, away from the roof of smoke, crawling on her hands and knees. "Joker?" she called, then coughed. There was so much smoke, she could barely see in front of her. "Joker?!" she yelled again. "Where are you?!"

She was not going to leave him to die in this building. This was her fault, her responsibility. If anyone was going to die in this foolishness it was going to be her. Not Joker, with his mischievous smirk and amused eyes and calm, steady voice.

She coughed again, and cried openly. The smoke was everywhere. The building creaked and moaned on its wooden frame. The floor was hot beneath her hands. She turned back toward the door, suddenly recognizing how close she was to her own demise in that small room, only to find that she had lost sight of the outside. There was too much smoke in every direction.

"Joker!" she called out once more, her voice broken with coughs. She knew she was trapped.

((Does Fortune find a way out of the tavern before it collapses? Does she find Joker?))

[Clover]

((On the contrary, Joker finds her. Two arms wrap around her and lift her up and out of the burning, collapsing building. The Englishman sets her down in an alley nearby before looking at her with disapproval etched into his features. "What in God's name were you thinking? Running back in there?" he demands as he rubs away some blood from his split lip. "Do you have a death wish or something, Aquitine?"))

[Fortune Fortescue]

Fortune's breathing was heavy, strained. Her eyes were dry and sore from the smoke. Her face still stung from the punch. Dried tears stiffened the skin on her cheeks. Her arms and legs felt weak, helpless. Her hair shook loose from her hat, and long, curling tendrils of orange slipped down across her face and behind her shoulder.

Joker brushed one lock of hair from her eyes to behind her ear, though stopped at her cheek. A small line appeared between his brow, and she knew there must have been a rather nasty bruise to elicit such a look from him.

"You shouldn't have stepped in the way," he told her.

The act was so gentle, so sincere, that Fortune opened her heart a little. It had been some time since anyone had cared for her in such a way. He had, after all, gone right into that burning tavern to save her, just as she had done for him.

"When I ran into the building, I thought you were still inside," Fortune told him, then felt a little embarrassed by the confession. She hoped upon hope that she was not blushing.

His smile returned with a small laugh, and she knew she must have been. But oddly, she was not further embarrassed by his reaction, she was relieved by it. It was so good to see his smile, that she offered her own in return, and laughed a little. She had almost died to save that smile of his, it was nice to see it generally unscathed, albeit with a split lip.

"What am I going to do with you?" Joker told her gently.

Fortune laughed a little more before it turned back into coughing. Both hurt. She did not say anything else. There would be plenty of time to talk later, she decided. Besides, breathing alone took most of her effort at the moment, she could not even think to talk. He must have been able to tell because he said nothing either. He turned and sat beside her. Their backs against the alley wall, Fortune looked beyond, past the street where the people were still gathering to the flames that now towered over their darkened figures.

It was done. The plan was successful, though Fortune would hardly call it a victory. She pulled her lute into her hands to more comfortable rest against the wall, though did not play it. She had her laugh, but this was no time for music. In the wake of destruction that she caused, she wanted only to sit in silence.

Time passed, the flames eventually simmered and died down. The alcohol fuel burned heavy but quickly. Fortune could only see trails of smoke beyond the crowd. The misty substance glimmered in the early morning light. It was almost beautiful, if it hadn't been so deadly.

"We should get out of here. Out of France, back to the relative safety of our homelands," Joker told her. "Someone, anyone, could have seen you set that fire."

Fortune nodded in agreement, but there was something she wanted to know first. "We must find out if any were killed. We have to find out now, before the story gets distorted by hearsay and rumors. Or we may never know."

"Is it so wrong to never know?" he asked. "Maybe its better that way."

"I need to know," she told him. "I couldn't live with not knowing. Wondering everyday. If people died, they died, and I'll deal with that." She paused for a moment. "But I can keep it to myself if you -"

"Stop," Joker told her and rose to his feet. "I'll find out for us. You, stay here please. I don't want to go chasing you into any more burning buildings today."

Fortune wanted to offer him a mock salute of obedience, but she was still too tired for their usual games. She simply smiled and nodded instead.

((How many people were killed in the fire? Is the general public reaction one of fear and chaos?))

[Clover]

((Fortune finds out that -- miraculously -- none died in the fire. But she does not find out from Joker. In fact, she cannot find him at all. Amidst the weeping Frenchmen and Frenchwomen, the flaming building, and the depressed, chaotic state of the surrounding area, there is no familiar smirk or smile to be found. Joker is gone, wherever to is unclear, but as suddenly as he'd appeared in her life, he'd disappeared.))

[Fortune Fortescue]

It was something of a miracle really, that no one was hurt in the terrible fire. And even more of a miracle that her plan to cause chaos actually worked, especially with no one hurt. She supposed now she could indeed call the mission a success, and with none dead, she could even sing of it. She was excited to sing this story, of the moral turmoil, overcoming a demonically possessed bartender, the miracle of no one injured, and of her co-star, the heroic Joker, who saved the day along with her life. She smiled at the name. Yes, the public would surely take to him, even with his English affiliation.

She was not surprised to find that he had vanished. There was something about the move that was so very ...Joker. And while she was sad to not have known him better, she was more pleased to have met him. He was an excellent character, and an even better friend.

With her daylight, she found the road east, back to home, back to Aquitaine. She bartered passage with a neutral merchant caravan that was headed that way with their wagons and horses. She was eager to leave the cities of France behind her, mostly to try out her new song.

The merchants, being of neutral alliance, were happy to hear it and to offer feedback while she perfected the tune on their long journey. It took her hours upon hours to find the right tone, pitch, and key, but her determination paid off, for what she was left with were several works of the same tale, one of which was particularly entertaining to the merchants.


A tavern with a wine-filled gut,
A lute-ist with a need for blood,
A thief lost with-in a rut,
A place with a mood for change!

A bottle with a long cloth strip,
Was lit and thrown into a pit.
The thief was beaten to a pulp,
The place was ready for change!

A fire that came burning down,
Chased all the patrons around.
The lute-ist got lost in the crowd.
The place, what's happening is change!

The thief braved into the storm,
Rescued the girl from the cold.
The tavern alone hit the floor.
I'm telling you, the place has changed!

The people, chaos, ran all around,
And no one could nail sanity down.
The building, it just burned to the ground.
You heard it here, the place is changed.

I'm telling you, the place is changed.
It's changed!

[Clover]

((Job completed. Reward: §45, Infamy 15 added.))