Malleus Maleficarum [The Meddler/OPEN]

[Sisilaya Vulmecura]

Sisi had travelled with her uncle for quite some weeks now. Even though they were technically not blood related, she felt like she had found some family back. She wasn't alone any more. After the tracker in her head had been removed her memories of Robin had come back to her in a surge. A small smile crept to her face at the memories of being swung around by the great big ginger man, flying before she was caught in safe arms again. He even got along well with her father, which was amazing realizing now, even though her father had been under the chameleon arch. If only Robin had known, perhaps things wouldn't have gone so horribly wrong.

She came walking into the main control room with a large book clutched in her arms, laid open somewhere in the middle of the book where the image of a great monster was portrayed, the devil. She had found the book in the Meddlers library, where she had been spending a lot of time when they weren't travelling. The booked looked medieval in it's origin, discoloured with age and worn on some sides. Sisi had a troubled look on her face as she looked up from the book.

It was the Malleus Maleficarum. The Witches Hammer.

It held the most gruesome and inhuman ways for a woman to be tortured into confessing she was a witch, only to end up to be burned at the stake. Not only had it grabbed her how women must have been tortured... this book was also the other reason her mother had died. She'd been trialled for a witch and had ended up like all those other women. And the Seelie Court had done nothing.

She looked at Robin, the usual smile void from her face. "This book is awful.. ma got off 'lucky' she was immediately burned and not tortured first. It all happened so fast.."

She looked back at the page of the devil sighed and mused aloud.

"I know that saving ma is something that cannot be done any more, or my history will be severely altered, likely for the worst. But isn't there someone.. anyone we can save from this fate, Robin?"

She stared at him, clutching the great book to her.

[The First Doctor]

The Meddler was up in the "museum wing", the large space that overlooked the control room, working at his desk.

With all the advanced hypertechnology at his disposal, the desk seemed a disappointment. It was more of a draftsman's table, really, with armatures for holding rulers in place and a goose-neck lamp. A roll of butcher's block paper hung on one side, able to be pulled freely across the table. It was littered with protractors and calipers and compasses and slide rules, each demarcated in a different numbering system.

At least, it looked like a disappointment until, in the middle of drawing an elaborate geometric sigil, he moved the arm of the compass in a direction not readily observable in the three standard dimensions.

"This book is awful.. ma got off 'lucky' she was immediately burned and not tortured first. It all happened so fast.." Sisi announced.

"Hey? What? Book?" He looked up, slightly disoriented, his eyes burning with a lambent, swirling unlight. Blinking repeatedly, his eyes faded to their normal brown. "What book are you talking about... oh, that," he said with disgust, eying the tome Sisi had brought into the museum. "Yeah, that book is something else. Disgusting, really. I largely keep it out of a morbid fascination."

She looked back at the page of the devil sighed and mused aloud.

"I know that saving ma is something that cannot be done any more, or my history will be severely altered, likely for the worst. But isn't there someone.. anyone we can save from this fate, Robin?"

She stared at him, clutching the great book to her.

He stretched, rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, and stood up. "First of all," he said, pulling on his coat, "all that business about 'not changing history' is the Doctor's hypocritical moralizing. His stance has always been 'don't change history, it's wrong. Unless I do it.' Saving her would just be problematic, since there's another Time Lord involved in the equation, but I could work it out."

He buttoned his coat. "But, as I recall, you chose not to risk it. So, yes. We can rescue someone. Any number of someones, actually." He paused. "Actually, what I was just thinking there would involve eradicating Christianity as a concept from Earth. But medieval Christianity inherited it's serious fear of witches from the Roman pagan religions, so we'd actually have to go back further." He smiled. "Caius Marcus Miscerus, Rex Sacorum?"

"That has significant ripple potential, though," he muttered. His eyes began to burn with that swirling unlight, as he sat back down at his desk and pulled out a clean section of butcher paper.

[Sisilaya Vulmecura]

Robin's clear disgust of the book did her somewhat good. He was quite right, even though this book was an epitome of everything that was wrong, she had kept on reading out of morbid fascination. Her eyes had lingered for at least an hour on the middle page, the great devil portrayed there. She wasn't sure any alien creature could live up to it's ugliness. It was humanity's perfect view of evil. So full of prejudice.

She finally took a good look at what he was doing, it was almost funny in what a stark contrast his desk was to the rest of the TARDIS. She raised a brow but that was all she did. She was used to her uncle's quirks by now, found them heart warming almost. No matter how intelligent someone was or how old they were, the little changes were which kept everything alive.

That's when she noticed his eyes, they were burning with something she could not place. She was about to say something about it but Robin was already rambling on. She smiled and shook her head when he went off again about meddling.

"I've done my own reading uncle and even though not all things in time are fixed, my past is what made me today. Even though I've seen and experienced stuff that should have never happened.. it made me into what I am. I protect, I heal. And now I'm in a bloody TARDIS travelling time and space!"

She sighed for a bit and rubbed the bridge of her nose before continuing, it was so hard to keep Robin from going absolutely bonkers over something. She had found out soon enough why he was called "The Meddler", he loved playing a dangerous game.

"Even though ma did not deserve to die then, even if we prevented it, it would only be a matter of time before dad would have gotten his memory back and it would have still happened. He was mortal, she was not, something would have been bound to give sooner or later. I'm not even talking about causing rifts in time, the consequences could be disastrous if we kept her from dying on that day and I'm not willing to take that risk. Dad is still alive and he can meddle with time just like you, we have to keep remembering that. At least mum is running the forever green hills with the rest of her kind again instead of being cast out.." She trailed off, the afterlife for every Sidhe. She hoped she'd have the privilege to experience it too, one day.. when her time was done.

But not today.

Turning back to Robin she saw him pull out a new section of paper, that strange burning in his eyes again.

"Just someone that won't cause too much trouble in the time line, promise me Robin. You have this amazing gift to travel in time and space, but don't crush the wineglass in your hand from gripping it too tight." She hoped he'd get the metaphor, she didn't know any other way to put it.

"Besides, killing baby Jesus in his cradle just wouldn't do Robin" She said with a bit of a smile.

[The First Doctor]

"Just someone that won't cause too much trouble in the time line, promise me Robin. You have this amazing gift to travel in time and space, but don't crush the wineglass in your hand from gripping it too tight."

He blinked at her words, and the swirling light faded from his eyes again. "Wineglass? What? Oh..." He gestured vaguely at the work table. "That's what all this is for. Planning. Working out probabilities, to work out where to nudge history at."

He stood back up, smiling sheepishly. "But that's not quite what you're after, is it? Just one person?" He chuckle. "We can save one person. Let's go!"

He strode back towards the console.

"Besides, killing baby Jesus in his cradle just wouldn't do Robin" She said with a bit of a smile.

"Now why would I want to do that?" he asked as he walked through the aisles of his museum. "Yeshua ben Yusef was a remarkable young man. He deserved better than crucifixion, and certainly better than what built up around him over the centuries."

A pause. "It's unfortunate that he never really came to terms with his heritage."

Standing in front of the console, the Meddler stretched his fingers like a pianist and began to manipulate the controls. With a grinding roar, the time rotor of the ancient craft came to life. "Next stop: Bavaria. 1490."

---

Compiègne
May 14, 1430

The city had been under siege for a week. The defenders, valient and wounded and exhausted, had repulsed wave after wave of Burgundian and English soldiers. Nobody was sure how much longer they could hold out, but they knew they would need relief. Soon.

And, it seemed, God was providing that relief.

Word had made its way into the city that The Maid of Orléans was leading a host of 400 men and a vanguard of holy angels to their aid. The news had lent strength to the defenders. Heaven itself was marching to their aid.

Nearly a mile from the city, there was a roaring, grinding sound. As it faded away, one of the oak trees on the side of the road split open.

"And here we are, Sisi! Weinburg, Bavaria. Just..."

The Meddler's voice trailed away as he noticed the siege lines drawn up around the town. "Strange. Weinburg shouldn't be under siege."

[Sisilaya Vulmecura]

Sisi stepped forward curiously, now actually wanting to know what he had been drawing on the butchers paper. Her eyebrows rose, it was not what she had expected. She had expected chaotic scribbles, but this almost looked like.. art. Before she could comment about it he had strode already back to the console.

She caught up with him quick enough as he walked through the aisles of the museum, even more surprised as he got into her Jesus comment more seriously. She was somewhat surprised the legend actually to be true, Christianity had lost it's grasp a long time ago in the time she had come from. With a loss of hope usually a loss of faith came hand in hand. "Even though crucifixion is horrible. Let's leave that one event alone. I do not mind a few pranks against Emperor Nero if it would please you, I heard from legend he had no sense of humour whatsoever." She said with a smirk.

She held on to one of the sidebars again as the TARDIS took off again. She smiled.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sisi followed the Meddler out of the TARDIS, grinning as she took a quick look at the tree. What a magnificent machine a TARDIS was.

Yet when she heard her uncle trail off she raised her brow. She looked around her, not too far off she heard an elderly couple speak. The old woman held a basket filled with plucked fruits from the forest behind them. They did not seem to mind the both of them but Sisi had clearly recognised the language the two had been mumbling in. She looked at the Meddler.

"Bavaria? It smells French here." She deadpanned, her eyebrow raised.

[Jehanne D'Arc]

Jehanne D’Arc, known to her men—and nearly everyone else in France—as La Pucelle d’Orleans, tightened her grip on the reins of her horse, bringing the animal to a halt. They had been riding for a good many days—just how many Jehanne herself could not say—toward the town of Compiegne. The city was still a few miles off, but she could hear the English and Burgundian troops through the trees. She waved to her men, listening as they stopped behind her. Up ahead and down the hill, she could see the town of Compiegne, surrounded by Burgundian and English siege lines. She frowned, eyes narrowed, as one of the lieutenants came up to her.


The man tipped his head back to look at her. “Captain?”


She tore her gaze from the city, focusing her sharp blue eyes on the young man’s face. “Well?”


He gestured to the city and the siege lines around it. The murmur of the Burgundian and English troops rode up to them on the breeze. “What shall we do?” He looked up at her again as if to say, Surely you have a plan?


She bit her lip, creasing her brow. I certainly cannot tell him that I do not know what to do, that my Voices have told me nothing save that I will be taken. Shaking her head, she answered, “We wait. And watch.” She was stalling for time. And well do I know it. I only pray they do not. Turning her gaze back to the town, she watched as the troops milled about below.


“Wait?” the lieutenant sputtered. “We are not going to attack them now?”


“Indeed not,” Jehanne replied, her gaze never leaving the scene before her. “We have ridden hard. If you are not weary, I am surprised and I am certain the others are. As for myself, I simply wish for a bit of food and to be off my horse. If we attack now they will kill us all and we will be no good to the city.” She swung down from her horse as she spoke. “Tell the others we will rest and watch.” Dropping the horse’s reins, she started into the forest.


“Captain?” The lieutenant fairly ran after her. “Where are you going?”


Jehanne bit back a sigh. What does he think, that I mean to vanish into the woods? “Peace, Lebrun. I only mean to go a little ways and pray for a while. I shall return ere long. Do not fear.” She smiled at him and slipped into the trees.


The tall branches and dark leaves closed over her, forming a canopy as she walked. Sunlight broke through in shafts, spilling down to the ground. Dead leaves and branches crunched under her feet. I feel as if I am in a church made of trees. She walked further, mind whirling. What am I to do? And what are we against so many? She shook her head, black hair flying back and forth. No. I must not think that way. The Lord is with me. He will help me, as He has always done. She crossed herself and continued on, pushing deeper into the woods.


After a while, she rounded a bend. Frowning, she shaded her eyes. There were two people, a man and a woman, standing near a tree. An older couple stood close to them. They were still a good ways off from Compiegne, but Jehanne could see the city more clearly now, and the enemy troops. If this forest went all the way around, perhaps they could use it to gain access into Compiegne itself? It is certainly worth asking.


Jehanne stepped toward the tree line, observing the strangers. Her eyes widened as they drew closer. What odd clothes they wear! The woman—who had long red hair—was dressed in men’s clothing. An assortment of weapons hung from her clothing. What odd blades. And what is that? She stared at the tiny objects tucked into two sheaths on the girl’s hips. The man’s clothes were even more peculiar. He seemed to be dressed entirely in grey: curious, coarse hose that seemed too lose about he legs and a doublet that opened to reveal a white chemise beneath. The doublet seemed loose as well. Poor fellow. He needs a proper tailor.


Then the couple spoke and Jehanne stumbled backwards. They are English. She wrinkled her nose. They are the strangest pair of English troops I have ever seen. And why are they not with the others? Perhaps an opportunity had presented itself. If they were English, mayhap she could take them as prisoners and ransom them in exchange for some of her people. Or, if they are valuable enough, mayhap I can persuade the English to leave Compiegne. It was certainly worth the attempt. And our force is small enough they shall not be any trouble to keep. It cannot be that difficult to guard two people. Pulling her sword from its sheath, she stepped from the trees toward them. I hope they speak French. “Surrender yourselves to The Maid and I give you my word you will not be harmed.”

[The First Doctor]

"Bavaria? It smells French here." She deadpanned, her eyebrow raised.

"That's absurd, Sisi," he responded, leaning on his cane and looking around curiously. "First of all, it smells of damp earth, trees, and - faintly - of gunpowder. Not 'France'. Second, I set the controls for Bavaria. There is no reason whatsoever to believe we are in France."

And then a young, dark-haired woman wearing armor emerged from the treeline. She lifted a sword and pointed it their direction. “Surrender yourselves to The Maid and I give you my word you will not be harmed,” she announced in Lorraine-accented French.

"Or, perhaps, we are in France. And I wish I'd known in advance - I'd have brushed up."

He eyed the woman - the Maid, she called herself - and summoned up the French language from the depths of his memory.

"Ic bidden eower arian, Maid, gif wit habban secan eower land butan laefan," he said calmly, with what he hoped was a winning smile. "Wit eart ferenders, niwan becumaned in Francland."

Sadly, his French was at least three hundred years out of date.

(OOC: And his condition prevents him from interfacing with the TARDIS telepathic translation circuits.)

[The Phantom]

France, year 1430 in the month of May, a Tardis materialized in a large open field, in the shape of a grassy hill. A short blond girl dressed in 20th century clothing stepped out of it.

"Come on Rio, it's France." The Phantom looked around at her surroundings, and grinned. "This is France right? At least I think it is... though.. shouldn't there be more buildings? Or something?"

Walking back into the Tardis, she looked at Rio and motioned him out. "Come on, Riocard. Let's explore."

[Rio Keâts]

He hurried after the Phantom, still in the midst of tying his shoes. He landed on his back, folding his long legs uncomfortably close in order to tie his shoes. Leave it to the flustered Frenchman to make the most simple of chores into an excruciatingly painful one. “This is France,” he agreed, raising his eyebrows at Phantom, still lying on his back. He rolled over and picked himself up, brushing the dirt off his clothes cheerfully.

Maybe his friend had gotten the dates a little off the timeframe he was looking for – maybe a few hundred years – but it was still France. He was in the land that his adventure had begun. He was where his mother had died for him, where his parents had fallen in love and, most importantly, he was home. The tall man wriggled in excitement, grabbing her hand and bouncing forth to greet the world. “You’re right! Let us go explore!” he cheered enthusiastically.[/font]

[Sisilaya Vulmecura]

Sisi rolled her eyes and shrugged lightly at his explanation that this country could not smell 'French'. She just smiled and took a step forward, giving a better view of the town below. It was medieval al right, but kind of the wrong country and the wrong time frame.

“Surrender yourselves to The Maid and I give you my word you will not be harmed.”

She spun around to the sound of a language spoken she did not understand but clearly knew again was French and her eyebrows shot up at what she saw, clearly not what she expected. Before them was a short girl (shorter then herself by a good 8 inches) in a white armour, a plain looking fabric beneath it. Sisi almost towered over the girl as a sword was pointed at the two of them, the Meddler beside her trying to calm the girl down with something that sounded like broken French.. wait was that Breton? The girl looked no older of twenty and was pointing a sword at them threateningly. Oh really now?

"Oh but I disagree Robin. Do you not smell that fine aroma of two weeks of not bathing, caked up grime and old sweat which just a hint of overconfident arrogance? Oh yes, definitely smells of French I'd say" She finished with her hands placed on her hips, an eyebrow raised in calm contempt at the girl. She was not very impressed, or well. Not yet.

"What do we do with her? I don't think she's supposed to have seen us, if she realizes how my guns work we'll have a nightmare for one example." She eyed Robin

[Jehanne D'Arc]

Jehanne’s eyes widened as the man began to speak. Well, he certainly is not English! What tongue is that? She crossed herself and took a step back. Perhaps he was a demon? Why else would he look so odd? And why else could I not understand him? If he were an angel, she would surely know it. As to that, he would surely speak so that I could understand if he were. She eyed the man again, fingering the cross about her neck and mumbled a quick prayer. If he were truly a demon, that should banish him. Yet nothing happened. He remained where he was, with the woman beside him.


Heat crept into her face. Bah. I am being foolish. He is simply from somewhere else, that is all. “Eh, monsieur, you must forgive me. I do not understand what you have said.” Perhaps coming out here alone was a poor decision. Mayhap I should have asked Father Pasquerel to accompany me. At least then she could speak with these strange people. Now what am I to do? My men are too far away to hear me and I dare not leave them to their own devices. Suppose they truly are with the English, in spite of the fellow’s odd speech?


The woman spoke then and Jehanne turned toward her, eyes narrowing. She did not understand the words, but the tone was clear enough. “You need not insult me merely because I cannot understand your speech.” By my staff, do none of them learn proper courtesy? Jehanne lifted her chin, doing her best to look imposing. From the look on the woman’s face, I am not succeeding. She gritted her teeth. There was nothing for it. They must come back with me. Waving her sword at the woman’s odd weapons, Jehanne said, “Put them on the ground. You will both come with me.” Mayhap someone would come looking for her and she could send him to fetch Father Pasquerel.


Voices reached her and she turned to look. Another young woman and man were standing a ways off, near a large green hill. Odd. I do not recall that being there before. It would seem Compiegne is receiving more visitors than just myself today. She watched the newcomers for a moment. The fellow sounded French. Mayhap he is Burgundian. At this point, she cared little. He can speak to these people![/i] Jehanne waved to them. “Come here.” Once they drew nearer—if they seemed friendly—she could explain the unusual situation in which she found herself. She turned her gaze back to her two odd prisoners. “Stay where you are.”

[The First Doctor]

The brain of a Time Lord does not function like a human brain. This is a fact worth repeating.

It was abundantly clear to the Meddler that "the Maid" had not understood a word he had said.

"Was there something wrong with my pronunciation?" he asked Sisi.

It was a joke, though. He knew what was wrong. He could hear the phoneme shifts in her speech, and realized he'd spoken centuries-old gibberish to her. Already, his mind was processing the probable patterns of linguistic drift. With enough data, he'd be able to update the French he knew to the French she knew.

Of course, that depended on her talking. And not stabbing. Stabbing would disrupt the flow of data he needed, and talking would provide it.

Also, the stabbing would hurt a lot more.

So he stood and listened, watching as she mimed for Sisi to disarm herself. And then as she turned and waved towards two passers-by, out for a casual stroll. Through woods near a beseiged fortified town.

"Right," he observed out loud. "I rather suspect those two of being more than they appear."

[The Phantom]

Maria laughed at Riocard's excitement, and let him lead the way. "An nice adventure in midevil France." She could hardly contain her own glee, as they walked through the woods.

She was happy to be exploring France for the first time, and she was happy that Rio was having fun.

"Come here." A woman's voice called over to them.

Out of curiousity, Maria tried to drag Rio along over to the lady with the sword. A friendly smile was on her face as came closer and noticed the other two with her.

"Um, hello." Maria greeted politely, while sticking close to Rio.

[Rio Keâts]

“A nice adventure in medieval France,” Maria laughed next to him. He turned and grinned, bright green eyes glowing with excitement. He’d requested a trip in to France to meet his mother before she gave her life for his – it was an innocent request, he thought. He wasn’t going to do anything that would alter his timeline too terribly – sure, he’d love to have a mom, but if she hadn’t died he wouldn’t have lived, and he did enjoy living, as selfish as the admittance was. But Medieval France? He wasn’t complaining. He hadn’t attended any form of school, so he didn’t know how they used to act back then. The Phantom didn’t seem worried enough to change out of her anachronistic clothes, so he wasn’t worried about his anachronistic actions.

His eyes were roaming the countryside, taking in the rolling hills and forests. He paused, suddenly, letting her go quickly. Something really wasn’t right. Really… really wasn’t right. He turned to the Phantom, about to express his concerns, when he heard his mother tongue. His ears pricked curiously, grabbing Maria’s hand again and walking closer. The man was speaking gibberish – reminding him of his own gibberish when he was woken up early in the mornings. And the woman was making a jibe against his people, making his grip on her wrist tighten unintentionally. He let her go once more, sticking his hands in his pockets. The smile on his face had loosened as he observed this red-headed little… little… oh, there were words for broads like her.

Maybe the sword being pointed towards her would cut out her vocal chords.

And it was with that thought that he fully noticed the sword, his mind being taken off the flaming girl’s trespasses. “Maria,” he murmured, glancing at her curiously.

“Come here,” a woman called. He followed Maria, looking curiously at the three people. The red-headed woman that he strongly disliked was covered in weapons – which made him automatically dislike her even more. You can never trust someone that felt they had to cover themselves in weapons. They were obviously fellow time-travellers, given how they dressed and the way they spoke.

“Right,” the man said, looking over them. Riocard smiled, appearing as friendly as he could. “I rather suspect those two of being more than they appear.”

His friendly smile faltered slightly. “Just as you?” he asked politely.

“Um, hello,” Maria spoke beside him. He smiled down at her and stepped slightly in front of her, determined that if the woman with a sword decided to hack them in pieces, he’d at least keep Maria as safe as possible.

He directed his smile back towards the small girl that called them over. “How may I help you?” he asked in French.

[Sisilaya Vulmecura]

Sisi looked at the Meddler for guidance, she didn't really know what to do. Disarming a weapon was something she probably could do, but she didn't want to make any irrevocable mistakes. Using her guns to scare the woman off didn't seem like a great idea, they'd probably think it was witchcraft, or worse, would try to figure out how it worked.

Her eyes slid to the other voices as two more people joined them, a man and a woman. The man in particular looked at her with a clear disdain and dislike, by the look of both of them they were not from this time either. When she heard his fluent French to the girl still holding both the Meddler and herself at sword point she understood why, he had probably heard what she had said before. She just smiled and shook her head lightly.

Once again she had not been proven wrong on her opinion about the French, actually it was confirmed yet again. No matter which time.

It was sad, really.

Still, she kept her mouth shut and let the Time Lord beside her do the talking. He at least had some grasp on the language that was spoken here. She had no clue whatsoever. She moved closed to the Meddler, a hand resting on the hilt of one of her daggers. She may be useless in her vocabulary here, but she did not like either of them being held at sword point for no reason at all. She didn't like to resort to violence, but if this woman wanted to harm them she was going to step in.