Put That Thing Back Where It Came From Or So Help Me

[Clopin]

April 16th | Open to all Rogues, especially those who were in No Going Back, and Jenn /Claude Frollo .

The smell of smoke hit him like a brick wall, threatening to suffocate him. He was back in the saddle of a stolen horse, scythe slicing through enemies like butter as the horse galloped past. He gleefully laughed, looking for his next victim. His heart raced with adrenaline, and his chest swelled with a sense of freedom he hadn't felt in ages. A sudden commotion from the belltower pulled his attention away from his next victim, as he saw both Esmeralda and Quasimodo attempting to outrun Judge Claude Frollo.

Dark brown eyes narrowed as he managed to turn the horse in the direction of Notre Dame, directly towards the flames and molten steel that surrounded the cathedral. But before he could do anything to assist, Frollo began his free fall to the ground from high above, clinging to nothing but the stone that had caused him to slip.

It was then that the arrow struck, from high up within the parapets of Notre Dame. The sheer force of it piercing through his chest threw the gypsy king off the horse, and it galloped off, leaving him in the dust as the townspeople threatened to trample him.

Clopin awoke in a cold sweat, eyes wide, and heart racing. He took a few deep breaths once he realized he was most definitely still alive, and he examined his chest, fingers running over the pale scar where the arrow had been buried.

He then prepared himself for the day ahead, pushing the nightmare to the furthest reaches of his memories. His army needed him today, as he had missed a pivotal battle with the Blackblood Legion. Luckily for the Rogues, they emerged victorious, but he cursed himself for not being there to fight alongside his soldiers. He pinned his ermine cloak, and adjusted it so that it was comfortable. And once his crown was secured on top of his head, he headed out of his royal chambers, only to come face to face with one of his beloved canines.

"Mon roi."

"Dante." Clopin responded with a smile, gently scratching the shepherd's ear.

"Where are they?" he asked, as they began to walk down the long hallway.

"At the new Court of Miracles. But I have to warn you, they've brought a recruit back." Dante said, emerald eyes filled with worry. He pinned his ears back, and his previously neutral expression fell.

"Well, what's the matter with that? You know new recruits are always welcome to join! Don't be so silly, Dante." Clopin said, with a chuckle, as he patted the dog's head. The pair exited the Conciergerie, and made their way over to the Court of Miracles, with a deafening silence between them.

Once they entered the Court, Clopin noticed that a small crowd of Rogues awaited him, along with some of his own people. He raised an inquisitive brow, and looked to Dante for an explanation. The wolf dog's attention remained pointed forward.

"Bring the recruit forth." Dante barked. Clopin raised his chin, attempting to see what was going on over the sea of heads. He began to grow nervous, but held his composure as best he could.

The small crowd of soldiers and gypsies split to reveal Luca and Marko, two of Clopin's most trusted people, and his gaze fell immediately on the pale man between them, as the three of them marched forward. Clopin's blood ran cold, and his heart threatened to leap out of his chest.

This could not be. There was no possible way. The man who had nearly burned all of Paris down in an obsessive attempt to find his dear sister, and murdered his parents in cold blood...was now here, alive and standing before him.

He should be DEAD.

Clopin's eyes narrowed as the man he had thought was dead was sitting right here in front of him, eerily in the same position as he was several years ago. His teeth clenched in a silent fury, as he managed to find his voice. His scythe suddenly appeared in his right hand, and he clenched it with a tight fist.

"Get this...this monster to the gallows." Clopin growled, in a low voice that was the complete opposite of his normally shrill pitch. He then allowed an unsettling grin to cross his lips, as he locked eyes with the former judge.

"I'll make sure that this time, he suffers for the sins he committed."

[Jay]

Jay and Darren had quickly escaped the battle after their debacle with Lindsay-- Jay's ribs were sore from being handled and dropped brutally, as was his neck. But it was nothing he could not handle. Darren, on the other hand...



Darren was so weak he could not even hold his head up. The boy felt as though his entire body had been run through a grinder, and then some. He could not think straight, he could not see straight, breathing was difficult because everything hurt so much... Jay was almost in a complete panic as he carried Darren bridal-style all the way back to the new Court of Miracles, desperate to find a medic.

Thankfully, as soon as they had arrived, the medics quickly took Darren into their care after Jay had sputtered out an explanation of what had happened. He stayed by Darren's side the entire rest of the day and night, too worried about his lover to entertain the thought of leaving him by himself.

Darren, after a bit of rest, slowly became less confused and was more conscious after a few hours, but spent the time he was awake being sick and being doubled over in bed with a migraine so bad he couldn't see, and every sound made it worse. The boys managed to get a bit of sleep, well into the night.

Now, it was the next day. Darren was now fully awake and lucid, but he was still in so much pain he could still not leave the bed without help, still getting sick constantly. The medics insisted Jay leave for at least a bit, to let them "work their magic" on him to see what they could do for his radiation sickness. Jay obliged, but not without some initial resistance.

Now the boy was practically stumbling around the Court of Miracles in a stupor, so anxious he could barely think straight. He knew he needed some kind of distraction from the intense anxiety he was feeling. He ended up coming across the gathering of Rogues and Parisians and couldn't help but be drawn right to it.

Still distracted, he ended up accidentally stepping on the paw of a dalmatian puppy. Dusty yelped a bit when Jay squished her paw underfoot, but quickly forgave him before he could even apologize. "It's fine, I'm okay! Can you see past the crowd at all up there? What's even happening? King Clopin came down to see, it's got to be important!"

Jay was a pretty small guy, only about 5 foot 6 on a good day. He craned his neck and even stood up on the tip of his toes to try and see, but it didn't help much. "Ugh... not really... uh... here." He grabbed the gray-spotted dog and hoisted her up over his head. "You can be my eyes."

"Oh! Much better! Thank you!" Dusty's tail wagged a bit at first, but when she saw what was actually happening, the wagging stopped. "Ohhhhh, King Clopin is mad... wait... who is that? Who do they have?"

"I don't know, you tell me."

"Higher!" Dusty exclaimed, and Jay obliged, stretching his arms out more. With a better view, Dusty gave a gasp. "Oh my gosh... that's one of the Blackbloods! Why is that old bastard here?!"

[Belle]

As an inventor Belle's place was no immediately on the battlefield; her value laid not in the arms she could carry but in that which she could build. Thus it was no surprise that the maiden had remained behind when the soldiers had mustered. She'd seen them off with a curious worry, though she was sure that the Rouges would return triumphant. She'd heard time and time again how they'd trounced the Legion in the past on their home territory, and the others seemed to reflect that confidence.

So Belle wasn't really surprised to hear that they'd won the battle outside the city walls. What had surprised her was the gathering that followed as news traveled about some renegade Legionnaire. Word was that someone had gone turncoat in favor of the Rouges, but beside that was a hiss regarding the identity of the man in question. The latter seemed to come from those who called Paris home -- Belle deduced that whoever it was that had come to them was once a local, and an infamous one at that.

Mulling in the crowd gained Belle rendition after rendition of the recent history of Paris and, more importantly, what it had to do with the man that stood bloodied and guarded at the center of the unhappy gathering.

Belle's brow wrinkled as she regarded this stranger; Claude Frollo. An elderly beanpole of a man, frail and covered in the savagery of an animal attack. The figure he posed was hardly intimidating, but history had many men whose atrocious deeds had been committed at the hands of those who served rather than by their own hands. Wrinkles aside there had once been steel in this deposed Judge, corrupted with false morality and a sense of religious superiority.

By the accounts of those gathered, power and righteousness had once sat in the hands of a man befouled with lust and hatred for the darker-skinned people of the world.

Dangerous combination, that. He'd murdered countless innocents during his decades of servitude to the city. The final flaming end he'd been thought to meet had only come after he'd burned Paris half to the ground in a mad search for a woman he lusted after. If that wasn't a familiar tale...

Belle's eye was caught by the wavering of a cape. King Clopin had made his entrance. Disturbing the crowd as little as she could the dark-haired maid moved until she stood amongst the front row of onlookers that had cleared between Clopin and his prey. A grin as dark and wolfish as any beast of the wood found its way onto the king's face. Belle's head cocked for a moment's consideration before deciding that she liked that smile.

Death was no joke, but... This sounded like a justice long overdue.

[Maul]

Maul wasn’t aware much of what was going on with the Rogues; namely because she barely spoke a lick of human-tongue. Not that it mattered much to her simple mind. Maul lived only for the kill. No calculating, no desire to change a thing about the world, no concern for other living things -- just pure evil for the sake of evil.

But she wasn’t a stupid beast. Maul knew that she could get into trouble. She tried to avoid things she was aware would get her into trouble. It was just like back at home -- they had rules.

“ G A A A A A H H ! “

Though her recklessness got ahead of her still.

Maul came scrabbling through the legs of the mostly human crowd. Massive quills came in handy went you wanted people clearing out of your way quick. The wretch could sense on-coming violence like a storm. That, and she could pick out a handful of words. Maul made her way to the front in no time. She made inhuman shrieks that gave only the vaguest impression of her speaking voice. Gobs of snot sprayed from her nose as she breathed, striking a ratty claw within inches of the Legionnaire.

“Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill! Yaaaaaa!”

The known word was spoken in a shrill voice and her larynx struggled to make the noises of language.

[Emily]

Emily too stood amongst the assembled Rogues, her cheeks smeared with the ashes that had come with the battle. She had arrived too late to fight alongside her new-found allies but she had seen enough to know that there had been something of a bloodbath. Then again, it was war and no war was ever bloodless or without cost. She knew that better than anyone when she had seen her home planet fall to the ravages of a war they simply could not have won. She had tried her best to aid how she could, blinking back and forth from the battlefield to take the most severely injured of their people to the medics for immediate treatment in hopes that they at least could be saved or at least not suffer for too long as they passed.

Despite the growing exhaustion she was feeling, she wanted to see what their leader would say. She knew at least that there was one of the enemy who wanted to defect to their side, she had heard as much as she had carried out what work she could. Emily had to admit she was interested to see what the outcome of that would be. She knew enough to know that King Clopin was open to those like her who came needing aid and chose to offer their allegiances but to his enemies he was utterly ruthless.

In her opinion, the old man they had brought before them all was somewhat anti-climatic. She had been expecting something more impressive than that. She had seen that the Blackblood Legion apparently had very competent and powerful soldiers under their banner and she had been expecting one of them to try and switch sides when they saw that the battle was turning against them. What confused her even more was how powerful a reaction Clopin seemed to have to seeing this man. Clearly there was a story there that she was not privy to and apparently whatever bad blood ran between those two ran very deep.

Deep enough for an immediate death sentence apparently. What was more, everyone around her seemed to be agreement that death was a very suitable way to deal with this particular old man. Quietly, she leaned over to the person beside her, a brunette young woman who looked no older or younger than she seemed and quietly murmured to her:

"Who is he? Seems a bit hasty to just kill him without letting him get a word in."

[Claude Frollo]

"And so it begins..." Frollo thought to Roland. "The Gypsy king already calls for my death and not a moment after seeing me.'

"Do you blame him?" Roland responded back. "I have seen in to your memories Claude. You aren't really blameless in his thought process. You have claimed the lives of many of his people-"

"For my people. The people of Paris." Claude interrupted. "Do you think I would have gone out of my way to try to stop these homeless vagabonds from ruining Paris, from ruining France, if its people didn't have the fear of them in the first place? They were but thieves and beggars! I did what needed to be done for my Homeland."

"But Claude..." Roland continued. "Your hatred is still there."

Frollo stayed mentally slient as he followed Roland's logic. He did still hate Gypsys. For the very reason standing before him. He knew they would try to take over. Like any invading force coming in mass. How many French noblemen/women and other natural born Frenchmen had this 'king' killed on his way through to become the King of France? How many were ostracized,or went astray, escaping this invasion of France?

"Probably not as much as the people who died to your lighting the city aflame." Roland thought to Claude. "Really, all that trouble for one lass? A Gypsy lass at that? You must be the most powerful and desperate wizard in the universe!"

".... Wizard? I know no magic." Claude thought.

"Right over your head. Never mind, Claude. Changing the subject, you did fuck up royally. But that doesn't change the urgency of the matter at hand. They are going to kill you. What will you do?"

"Absolutely nothing," he thought."That man would sooner slit my neck than to listen to me talk. So I won't."

Roland panicked a bit. "Then I will."

"Do as you wish, spirit," Frollo dismissively said. "But don't be surprised if he becomes aggressive."

White light and small whiffs of smoke began to leak out of Frollo's eyes. "You are making a mistake, Clopin." The voice was not of the normal one for Claude, but a deeper, more noble voice

[Clopin]

You're making a mistake.

As the small crowd of Rogues and gypsies followed their king and the "recruit", a voice emanated from the former judge, prompting Clopin to whirl around and stop the crowd by holding up a gloved hand. He then knelt down, using the scythe to keep himself balanced, as he locked eyes with Frollo. He noticed that the man's voice sounded slightly different, and it wasn't until he looked into his eyes that he noticed Frollo's eyes, with wisps of some sort of smoke slowly emerging from them.

Was this man ill?? Or was he just seeing things due to the anger clouding his vision?

Regardless of what it was, Clopin shook his head and leaned forward, resting a hand on the other man's shoulder.

"Mon ami, I can assure you that I am not making a mistake. Killing you and making you suffer for what you've done is in the best interest of the people of Paris, and of my people. You know what you've done, and you've made your grave." Clopin said, standing once more.

"And, it is not Clopin anymore. You are to refer to me as King Clopin Trouillefou." Clopin spat. He then leaned in closer, almost to the point where his nose could have brushed up against Frollo's own.

"Now, we can sit and play games, or we can make this quick. Unfortunately for King Louis, he wanted to play games...and look where he is now." Clopin whispered, as he gestured to the floor beneath him.

He then turned around on one foot with a bounce in his step, as he and Dante led the procession towards the tunnel that connected the two Courts, humming a ditty about being the lawyers and judge all in one.

[Esmeralda]

She was tired. A bone deep weariness that only those at war could understand. Esmeralda's arm and shoulder were slathered in salve and bandaged up to protect the burned skin. With luck the salve will do the trick and she won't be scarred. That was hardly the highest of her priorities, but it would be a nice perk.

Esmeralda had spent the last few hours dealing with the aftermath of Paris burning, yet again. She felt like she would never get the scent of smoke from her nostrils. It reminded her of another time. A time when her lungs were choked with the heat and stench of it. Of when she was almost consumed the same as her beloved city... 
Esmeralda closed her eyes, the brilliant green of her namesake, and gave her head a little shake to clear it.

She was really starting to hate fire.

Almost as much as the man who was the constant source of it.

She had made it a point to avoid Frollo. His fate was to be determined by the King... And she already had an idea what that fate would be. But for the sake of due process and the 'justice' that she cared so deeply about. Esmeralda wouldn't take Frollo's life with her own hands. That was why she avoided him. If she saw him, she wouldn't be able to control herself.

Now that it was time for his judgement, Esmeralda finally joined the crowd to bear witness to Frollo's fate.

And it went exactly as she expected.

The only person who's hatred rivaled hers was her brother. She knew there would be no mercy for Frollo within him. She was surprised he hadn't beheaded Frollo right then and there. That was quite a bit of restraint for him. But it made sense that he wanted the man to s-

"You are making a mistake, Clopin."

Esmeralda blinked. She knew that voice. It couldn't be? 

The Archdeacon, Roland, had been one of the people to actually practice the words of kindness and fairness his faith touted. He had provided her sanctuary when few others would. He had been the only man who could possibly temper Frollo into doing the smallest of good deeds.

It made no sense, none. Why would the voice of Roland be issuing from that disgusting man's mouth.

"Wait," Esmeralda called out, her voice surprisingly cutting through the air.

Carefully Esmeralda stepped through the crowd towards Frollo. Her skin crawled to approach this foul being. She wanted to leave him to his fate and never look at him again. But... she couldn't. Frollo would be the one to condemn others with out a moment of mercy. She needed to be better.

Justice.

"Give us one reason. Give all of Paris one reason to spare you."

[Claude Frollo]

"Because, I-" Frollo/Roland started. But immediatly stopped. Inside the mind of the Judge, a problem brewed.
"Esmeralda...THAT GYPSY WITCH! If not for her corruption on my soul, none of this would have happened! And there the clown outright admitting to killing the king! Though honestly held no love for the man, this proves what they have said all along! They are taking over France like the rats they-"
Roland sighed dejectedly.
"Claude. I need you to sleep now."
"What? Once I get my revenge on that witch and her Jester, then you can do whatever you wa-"
Before Frollo could finish his sentence, a low but loud ringing echoed in to the hall of miracles. To those around it sounded like a soft wind chime. To Claude, however a loud drowning torrent of power.
"Sleep." Roland said with more power behind his voice. As he did so, Claude's mind fell into a temporary sleep. "I can't have you getting yourself killed via foot in mouth can I?"

Back in the normal world. Roland temporarily in full control of Claude's body, used what little power that rested in Claude's body and in the sword itself to materialize himself in front of Esmeralda and Clopin.
"As I was saying..." Roland started. "Because my child, everyone deserves a chance to redeem themselves. And by giving us that chance, You may end up saving more that just Paris... But the world at large."
Roland was in spirit form but he was very easily noticed by his Archdeacon robes.

"This one, Does not know my true identity." Roland points at Frollo "And for the time being, I would like to keep it that way." Roland looked in Esmeralda's direction slightly annoyed as if he knew who she was. Well if she didn't it was certain she would know now.
"Claude has come here to try and save all of you from the future issue that is the Blackblood legion. He chose this path all his own. All I have done is given him a little... push. You may hate this man for his past, but he is trying to keep the future bright, And I alongside him."

Claude mind started to wake and Roland retreated back into Claude. With his eyes one again smoking Claude once again spoke in Roland's voice "all I require is Sanctuary. So that we might make this right."

[Belle]

Belle had stood in silence while words were bandied back and forth between the denizens of the realm, her hazel eyes following speaker to speaker. Interrupted by a question from a woman at her side Belle glanced sidelong before returning her eyes to the scene.

"He seems to be Paris' former Judge. From what I've heard it seems that he's responsible for... Many deaths among the Romani." Belle's voice was kept to an undertone, leaning slightly towards Emily so that she wouldn't interrupt the proceedings. "... Though, truth be told, he doesn't seem to be having too much of a problem making himself heard..."

Belle lacked the experience that Esmeralda and Clopin had with the man standing before them, but it didn't take much to assume that a ghostly figure emerging from an old man was safely outside the ordinary. Without their shared hatred though it was easier for the lass to consider a separate option... One that might prove more valuable to the Rouges if what this ghostly stranger said was the truth. With a murmured "Excuse me," to her silver-haired companion Belle slipped through the crowd again, this time to catch up with the caped king sauntering down the corridor.

Mindful of the seriousness of the situation Belle did not take to Clopin's side immediately, instead waiting until she received a quick acknowledgment from his canine guards. Only when permission was given to approach did the Frenchwoman step past them to match Clopin's stride.

"King Clopin, a word?"