Log:Securing a Guarantee with Lereau

The Madness of David Flyte 2020/02/24 Grimm Lereau 34

Grimm places an add in Le Monde's personal ads section to get Lereau's attention. "Dark and Mysterious woman looking for a cultured doctor. Guaranteed there will be some one-on-one private fun." There's a temporary generated email address for the add to make contact. It's a message she hopes he'll get. A one on one meeting about the guarantee.

A few hours after the ad is placed in 'Le Monde', you receive an e-mail response from the same sort of anonymouse e-mail server you uses. It states: Trafalgar Square, under the Lions, alone, 4PM GMT today. I'll wear the see-through number you liked.

Grimm decides to arrive early again to make sure Lereau hasn't planted people. She keeps her distance from the Square to scout.

Wow, there is a /lot/ of activity here in the square at 3 PM: tour groups, tourists, school groups, families, hucksters, con artists, even a mime (shudder). Hard to make out who's who. But no one stands in any mundance way.

Mystically? Much simpler. Someone's (Hermetic magicks) wards protect Nelson's column while someone else's (Druidic/Fae based) protects the lions. Otherwise, nothing magickal going on about the square. Well, there is a red-headed Gypsy woman telling fortunes on the far edge of the sqaure who seems deeply steeped in, hmm, Chaos, no, trickster magicks.

Oh, and the red headed gypsy? She has no dimension of origin. Much like when you 'felt' Merry Andrew that one time.

No dimension of origin still gives Grimm the creeps. The idea of dimensions getting snuffed out is why she's here, though. She looks towards the lions and waits for the appointed meeting time.

At four o'clock exactly, a limousine pulls to the curb and, visually, that tall dignified gentleman gets out, cane in hand and newspaper tucked under one arm. The limo promptly drives off.

The gentleman makes his way towards the lions, looking neither left or right, his gaze lidded and his lips sardonic.

To your mystical sense, you see Master Lereau slithering across the ground twoards the lions. He does have a newspaper clasped in one tentacle but the cane he holds is actully human vertrabrae fused with corroded metal. It radiates necromatnic magicks of destructive power but ones held in check for the moment.

Grimm shudders at what she can truly see. She looks about, then starts crossing the street into the square, making her way to the Lion and Lereau while keeping her guard up.

Lereau reaches the steps leading to the Lions and leans against the base of the plinth one rests on. He is just outside the wards on the Lion that would set it off. Lereau opens his paper and begins to read it, turns the pages fairly quickly as he scans each paper. Probably a speed reader.

Grimm approaches Lereau, keeping him between her and the lions. She's curious about what those wards will do. If he's avoiding it and gets hostile, she may be able to throw him into it. "I see you got my ad," she comments.

"It wasn't Cold War quality espionage to figure out, madamesoille Grimm," murmurs Lereau in his Gallic accent with a one-shouldered shrug. "But, a very commendable effort. Only those of us present would know in any case."

As he speaks, he folds the paper and secrets it away inside his tentacles. To pure visual sight, it looks like he tucks it away into his suit jacket.

"May I ask what /exactly/ you want of me, Chosen One?"

Grimm smirks faintly. "We didn't establish code words or pass phrases." She folds her arms over her chest and shifts her weight to her left leg. "Chosen One? You must be mistaking me for Amelia or Charity. I'm here to talk about that guaranteed return you spoke about."

"Oh no, I don't speak of those mongrels, madamesoielle Grimm. You are the only Chosen One to me. You are marked by vastness," he says in an almost reverential tone.

"But, yes, the guaranteed return. As I stated, I can guarantee the return of anyone who crosses over to the Gleaming Darkness. In the condition they are in at the moment of retrieval. I can neither heal others any longer in any convential sense nor restore anyone to a human life. so they will return in whatever condition being in N'zrathol's prsion leaves them in."

He waves a few tentacles in languid manner (in a broad sweep to the mere visual). "I think you and yours misapprehend the Gleaming Darkness, Chosen One. It is no mere Hell. It is the blessed End of All Realities. It is completely outside this Reality. So, the powers your friend depend on, well, they may not...function as well as they should there. Will and skill and knowledge are needed to adjust to the Qliphothic...even as a visitor."

Grimm lifts her chin a bit as she listens. "How exactly can they be retrieved? Is it an artifact? A spell? What's the cost of it." Straight to business, though there is something that concerns her. "What do you mean? What won't function properly over there? Magic?"

"Technology, magick, many metahuman abilities with regards to energy control and projection. I've never tested a mutant or shapeshifter or mentalist in the Gleaming Darkness, so, they may be unaffected." He give that one shouodered Gallic shrug. "I suppose depending on who you send, well, it could be educatoina for us both." He smiles slightly at this.

"And they will be retrived by my power, Chosen One. The cost of it to you and yours is nothing. I and mine will bear the cost. After all, I am, how to phrase it, heavily invested in you remaining true to your Destiny. Which this putain N'zrathol threatens."

Grimm looks surprised by the revelation. That just made things so much harder. "Well...that's something new I didn't know." She frowns a bit as he says he and his will bear the cost. She suspect that still means lives. "So what is the cost to you and yours? Sacrifice? Souls?"

"No innocents will die, Chosen One. And certainly no fecund females. Do you truly care if I or my servants are harmed?" He chuckles softly as he lifts many tentacles (raises his hands over his head). "I am a monster, Chosen One, shaped by my chosen Path. My servants? None are innocents. And, given a choice, I won't sacrifice them...not because I care for them, but because they are /mine/."

Grimm isn't sure if she should be comforted or disturbed. Definitely both at a minimum. "I care that if it cost lives, I'd still be bearing the cost indirectly. Innocents may not die, but will they be harmed?"

"How precious your morals are, Chosen One. I wonder it that is one reason you were Chosen." He shrugs again. "If you wish no innocents to be harmed, then, reluctantly, none will be used, Chosen One." He raises his hands ( a few tentacles rise) as he adds, "Are there any other chains you would bind me with? Each one makes the task that much harder."

Grimm decides to play Lereau's game. "The Mortal's are precious because they are -mine-." If he thinks she's Chosen, then she'll play the part while it serves her. "So what's the price of this magic, if it's not the lives, blood, or parts of the innocent?"

"Chosen One, I already said innocents are off the table. Contrary to those on the side of 'Good', innocents are not the favorite flvor of 'Evil'." He then strokes his chin. "Well, not for the One I Serve. For lesser creatures like demon lords, yes, innocence is desirable. Corruption soon follows after all."

He smiles slightly. "And while I admire your attempt to cow me? Well, wait until your Apoetheosis, then, willingly I will open my neck for you, Chosen One."

Grimm thinks carefully, expecting tricks. She taps her foot a few times in thought. "And no light crimes, either. You may be trying to take innocents as someone who's never sinned, and well...that's something that doesn't exist. No good or redeemable people, despite their sins and failings."

Grimm tries to look unmoved by him calling her out on her attempts to impress or cow him. He really is mad if he's willing to sacrifice himself for this apoetheosis.

"Chosen One, I told you I never lie: it bores me now and I have far more important things to do than remember what lies were told to who. To whom. I truly hate English. It's so...muddled." He frowns briefly as he goes on his verbal aside.

"If anyone has to die to save your friends, it will be my servants. If anyone needs to bleed, it will be my servants and me. Their and my souls? Well, those are gone to the One I Serve, so not on the table, alas."

"You also said you wouldn't tell the whole truth. I'm just being thorough," Grimm retorts. She seems satisfied with his answer at last. "Alright. So if I do need to you pay the price, how do I collect?"

"Well, mine and I will need to be there when you enter N'zrathol's realm, Chosen One." HE smiles slightly. "Did you think you could phone a friend to save them?"

"No," Gabrielle sighs. "Very well. How do I contact you when we decide it's time?"

One of Master Lereau's tentacles slides into him then out holding a business card. "The number of this phone will contact me. Most anywhere, Chosen One. You need not worry about overage or long distance charges."

Grimm tries not to flinch as she reaches out to take the card from his amazingly dextrous tentacle. "Alright. Perfect."

"I will now make the offer to free you from the putain N'zrathol myself without any of friends being involved, Chosen One. I would, of course, want you to participate in certain, from your point of view, vile rites. It would corrupt you, but in way, well, unpleasant for the putain." He smiles toothily. "Need I ask your response, Chosen One?"

"You know it's no," Grimm says with a distasteful expression. Though now she thinks she knows what happened to some of the alternate versions of herself.

Lereau laughs softly, a genuine laugh it seems. "I know, yes. But I had to just for that look of horror. It makes being among these peasants and not killing them worth it." He stands

Lereau laughs softly, a genuine laugh it seems. "I know, yes. But I had to just for that look of horror. It makes being among these peasants and not killing them worth it." He stands. "If there is notning else? I do have other things to do today."

"That's all," Grimm replies, avoiding saying she's done with him. At least she has a guarantee in her back pocket. The others won't like this.

Lereau apparently decides to just disappear into thin air, from most people's points of view. From yours, he twists in an impossible way into a mass of tentacles that pulls itself out of this Reality.

Next: Log:An Education on Madeline Kahn