10641/For Want of a Sword...

For Want of a Sword...
Date of Scene:	05 January 2020
Location:	Orleans, France, 1939
Synopsis:	The sword of St. Joan of Arc is found...and Amanda has a brush with the infinite.
Cast of Characters:	Indiana Jones, Amanda Deveraux

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Indiana Jones has posed:
Indiana Jones may be a rough-hewn American, but he certainly has a good head for the back roads and byways of rural France. The Jeep jounces along roads made when horse-drawn carriages were the primary mode of travel, but he is able to keep it on the road.
He is also, as it turns out, a man comfortable with certain methods. But he is not like the immortals Amanda is familiar with. His weapons are a venerated and well-used Webley revolver, and a ten-foot bullwhip which he keeps coiled at his belt. Apart from a utility knife, no blades at all.

It is approaching dawn when the Chatelet des Tourelles can be seen in the distance. It is the primary fortress of the Seige of Orleans, and Jones does pause at the crest of a hill to gaze upon it for a long moment.

Amanda Deveraux has posed:
Also in adventuring mode, Amanda is dressed more like an explorer than a lady of the '30s. Jodhpurs and boots, open collar blouse, leather jacket, and a fedora she looks more like a pilot than anything else. For her part she carries no weapon, trusting rather to other skills.

Amanda doesn't mind at all the Jeep ride, and even seems to enjoy the bouncing along. As the Jeep slows at the crest of a hill she swings down out of the vehicle to take a look herself. Adjusting the brim of her hat, the woman draws a long breath before exhaling slowly.

"You are certain that this is where the trail leads? Not that I'm complaining, of course. It's been a very long time since I've been to Orleans."

Indiana Jones has posed:
Indy sat down in the driver's seat again, exhaling slowly.

"I looked inside the helmet. There was an inscription there. 'Caput porta patet versus cor vestrum in manibus.' Head leads to heart leads to hand. Head being the helmet, leading to the 'heart,' which is Orleans, where Joan was vital to the heart of the people and her army and her God. And I am guessing the 'hand' is the reference to her right hand, the sword hand. The trick now is finding out where the sword was hidden." He points to the city. "She was given a residence here in the city after her victory, so I think that would be a good place to start."

Amanda Deveraux has posed:
Amanda Deveraux moves slowly back to the Jeep, placing one hand on the windscreen before swinging lightly up onto the running board. She takes a last look, then settles beside him. "I'm not questioning your abilities, of course. You've already shown yourself to be quite clever; yet another reason why I like you." She offers one of her better smiles at that. "It's a rather big city, however."

Indiana Jones has posed:
Indy chuckles. "Trust me. The house was venerated by the city in its prosperity after the Hundred Years' War. Which meant, even back then, it was a place where the faithful would visit. We're just going to follow their directions." He starts the Jeep, then puts it in gear.

As they head towards the city, he glances to her. "You made a rather oblique reference about 'learning something about myself,' which means you know something about me, or think you do. Maybe now would be a good time to elaborate."

Amanda Deveraux has posed:
"Did I really?" Amanda replies, meeting the anticipated -look- with arched brows and a wide smile. Changing the subject, she adds. "Ah yes, follow the trail of the Faithful and it will lead us to the Maid. I do like your approach."

"Let me ask you a question, first. How old are you, Indy? If you'll pardon the familiarity. Or perhaps I should begin with a little something about me, instead. I mentioned earlier that it's been a long time since I've been in Orleans. What would you say if I told you it was during the Revolution?"

Indiana Jones has posed:
Indy glanced at her. "I was born in 1899. Which makes me about 40."
He stopped as she made her claim about being in Orleans during the Revolution.
"The only Revolution worth mentioning ended a century before I was born, Mademoiselle Devereaux. Are you saying you're over 150 years old? You're aging pretty well, I have to say." He does sound skeptical, as would any sane person in the face of such a claim.
But his skepticism is not as complete as it would normally be in the face of such a claim.

Amanda Deveraux has posed:
Amanda Deveraux's eyes brighten at his deduction, the smile becoming more knowing. "I'm actually much older than that, even, but we'll go with 'over 150' for conversation purposes." she replies casually. "You're pretty spry for a man of 40, but then again you look like the sort who maintains a vigorous lifestyle." Here, she glances at the whip and the pistol.

"There are not many of us, Indy, but we can... I don't know... FEEL is the best word... when we are near others. Others like us. And I get that feeling when I'm near you."

Indiana Jones has posed:
Indy looks to the road, but continues to talk. "*Us.* Who is this *us* you are referring to, exactly?" He maneuvers slowly around a deep rut, then turns onto a primary road. There are people around, but they are farmers in fields, people going on with their lives even in the face of imminent danger.

Amanda Deveraux has posed:
Amanda hangs onto the handles in the Jeep as it swerves and bounces around, riding it like someone who's done this all her life. "Immortals." she replies simply. "You are a student of history, n'est-ce-pas? Otherwise we would not have made it nearly this far. There is much more I can tell you, about who I am and what I've seen. Also about who you likely are as well."

Indiana Jones has posed:
Immortals. Wow, whatever her senses are, they must REALLY be on the fritz, because he's about as immortal as...

...as...

Something seems to go "click" deep in those piercing brown eyes, and he makes some sort of connection.

"Crap...I don't believe this. God, You certainly have a sense of humor!"

Amanda Deveraux has posed:
Amanda Deveraux watches his face, the myriad of expressions crossing it. Yes, she's seen this reaction before. "My sense of humor is one of my more endearing qualities, or so I'm told." she replies evenly. No, she doesn't push that line of conversation.

Not yet.

"Believe what you will, of course." They can talk more about this later. "So we are looking for a church, then."

Indiana Jones has posed:
Indy shakes his head. "Not really. Remember, she would never bring a weapon into a church. But her home would only be venerated after her death, so it doesn't count." He is shaking his head. If she is right, then he didn't exactly end things in that place like he'd thought.

"The house is currently to the east of the university. With a little luck and barring complications, we should be there in a few minutes." He smiles to himself. "How do Immortals become Immortals, anyway?"

Amanda Deveraux has posed:
Amanda may have come without weapons, but Indy would have seen the woman slip a few small items into her jacket along with a thin leather case for some 'kit' or another. In any case, none of that is visible at the moment. As they bounce along, she looks back over to him with a smile of her own.

"One needs to start with the potential, of course. Some have it and some do not. But one thing that most have in common is that they have all died a violent and untimely death."

Here she pauses. "I was beaten to death for stealing food. Now that I have come into my own, however, there is very little which can actually kill me."

Indiana Jones has posed:
Indy suddenly smiles. "Well, I don't think I'm *your* kind of Immortal. Although I have scatted close to death, I've never actually crossed that line. But there is something else."
He makes a turn into the city center, moving slowly through the morning fog.

"What do you know about the Holy Grail?"

Amanda Deveraux has posed:
Amanda considers a moment before answers. "Bits. Legends. A few songs. And many warnings. I heard some nasty stories when I was in Turkey before the American Revolution." She pauses for a moment, then looks more closely at him.

"I came across some information when I was in Berlin some years ago, but I didn't pay much attention at the time. Hitler was gathering all sorts of occult objects, everything that he could find. There were rumors of an expedition to Egypt..."

Indiana Jones has posed:
Indy nods. "Yeah...the Ark of the Covenant. Hitler almost got his greedy mitts on that one, but it never would have helped him. A competitor, Rene Belloq, sought to learn its secrets by opening it. He thought ritual would save him. In fact, it damned him." He turned onto a quieter street. "I felt it. I didn't look at it when it was opened, and neither did Marion, thank God...but I FELT it. The wrath of an angry God, flowing right past me as it destroyed Rene and the Nazis. If he hadn't been so damned greedy for knowledge, that could have happened to Hitler. The Americans have it now."

He takes another breath. This is where the rubber meets the road.
"I found it. Last year, near Alexandretta. It wasn't for profit, or even for history. It was to keep it out of the hands of the Nazis. But we didn't get there in time. We were caught. Donovan, a Nazi sympathizer, was obsessed with the chance at eternal life the Grail could give him. He shot my father to make me get the Grail for him, so that its healing powers could save him."
He slows down. They are on the street now.

"Donovan thought hee had the Grail, but chose...poorly. He picks the glitziest one out of many, and it destroyed him. I found the only one a carpenter could afford. For your knowledge, the Holy Grail looks like a crude earthenware cup with a gilded interior. But I had to make sure before I used it to save my father. So...I drank from it."

Amanda Deveraux has posed:
Amanda Deveraux arches dark brows at that, turning to look at him more directly. "Wait. You -found- the Ark of the Covenant. AND the Holy Grail?" Her tone isn't incredulous so much as simply impressed. She listens, nodding and soaking up the details. The names. Belloq... Donovan.

"So you drank from the Cup of Christ, from the Grail itself?" she muses, looking thoughtful. "I think that explains quite a lot, Indy, although it's certainly not what I would call the traditional path."

"Are you sure you weren't violently killed somewhere along the way?"

Indiana Jones has posed:
Indy smirks. "Not for lack of TRYING, Amanda. There've been times I wasn't just knocking on death's door, I was pounding on it to be let in, but no. That sort of thing I would remember."
He stopped the Jeep, then got out. "Okay...we're here."

The home is a brick-and-mortar estate. Not opulent, but not simple either. There is a plaque commemorating the site as historical, that it was the former residence of Joan of Arc. The doors are closed, but Indy doesn't look perturbed.

Amanda Deveraux has posed:
Amanda Deveraux swings down out of the Jeep before he switches off the engine, even, taking a couple steps closer. She looks around, then glances both directions along the street... as well as any side streets. Stepping closer, she does read the plaque.

"Right place." she offers. "Do we knock, or would you like for me to get the lock?" The smile she adds is a coy one... stealing bread, remember?

Indiana Jones has posed:
Indy chuckles. "Well, since we're here for something they don't expect to be here anyway, and as long as *nothing else gets taken*..." Indy says the last bit with a note of warning. This was theivery, but he had good reasons for what he was doing.
Her, on the other hand...she would bear watching. A girl who comes prepared to pick a lock is prepared to steal, and he'd run into a couple of cat burglars in his travels. One of them had told him it was easy for him. He simply believed that his marks were keeping what was rightfully his from him.

He'd stopped believing it after Indy shot him in self-defense.

Amanda Deveraux has posed:
Amanda tsks softly, giving him an almost petulant look. "You -wound- me, Indana." she replies, reaching into her jacket for that little leather pouch. She tilts her head to examine the lock as she opens the pouch, selecting a couple of long, slender tools.

One goes in straight... so. The other eases in at an angle, adjust adjust adjust. She turns the pair slowly together, offering a wink as the lock clicks open.

"After you. And I do promise to be a good girl. You've aroused my academic curiosity."

Indiana Jones has posed:
Indy nods, opening the door slowly. "From what you told me, wounds don't do..."
The door opens, revealing a modest interior. There were pictures of Joan in the hallway - artwork of her speaking to Michael in the fields, standing in front of her army, victorious at the battle of Orleans, on trial, and being burned at the stake. Contemporary artwork, but later, during the good times after she was re-tried by the pope and found innocent after her death.
"All right...there would be a place she would keep it. Looks for a trophy room, a library, any place she might have kept it."

Amanda Deveraux has posed:
"Head to Heart to Hand." Amanda mutters softly, looking around and following Indy inside. "Perhaps somewhere less obvious, even. From what you said, she was not a woman who loved violence."

Amanda starts with the first door she finds, opening it and looking around at all levels. "What would you consider to be her 'Heart'?"

Indiana Jones has posed:
Indy frowns as he looks through the house. "Yeah, I was thinking Orleans was her 'Heart.' Maybe..." He snaps his fingers. "The sitting room! Worth a shot."
He heads to the sitting room, looking around. Chairs...windows... tables...a couch...
...a fireplace.
Indy grinned, then began examining the brickwork. "Amanda..." he says carefully, but loud enough for his voice to carry. "Heart. HEARTH."

Amanda Deveraux has posed:
Amanda Deveraux follows him with quickened steps, her gaze settling on the fireplace a moment after his. She chuckles. "Hearth, indeed." she replies, also keeping her voice low. The tools are tucked away by now, and she folds her arms over her chest.

After the epiphany, she joins him in searching all around the brickwork of the hearth. "Was this her house before the battle or did she live here afterwards? She could have had the hearth built specifically to hide the sword."

Indiana Jones has posed:
Indy hmmed as he worked. "She lived here after the victory. That is, until she was tried and martyred. And it makes sense. In those times, the primary source of heat in cold winters was at the center of the building..."

Then a brick came loose. Indy looked at it, then reached for another brick next to it and pulled it up as well.
"Just hope this isn't booby-trapped." He reaches in slowly...then pulls it out.
It is a long bundle wrapped in tattered oilcloth. It falls apart as Indy tries to unwrap it, revealing the grip and curved hilt of the sword. The rest is inside a scabbard made of French poplar wood.
"Matches the time frame. And poplar was a good scabbard material, resistant to moisture."

Amanda Deveraux has posed:
Amanda Deveraux is just about to say '... here, let me.' when he's pulled the sword slowly out of its resting place. She moves over to his side of the hearth, and he has her full attention now.

For all that, Amanda doesn't touch the sword as he slowly peels the rotting oilcloth away. "May I have a look? I -do- know something about swords of the period, even if I wasn't in France at the time."

Indiana Jones has posed:
Indy nods after a moment. "All right, but no funny business." he holds the hilt side to her for her to draw it.

Grasping the sword sends a flash of white light that seems to flow from the sword to her mind, a warning in a language she cannot articulate.

*I HAVE NO PART IN YOUR FOOLISH, SELFSH GAME. WIELD ME AT THE RISK TO YOUR SOUL.*
Then it is gone, and the sword slides out of the scabbard smoothly. The blade is unmarked, gleaming steel, the gleam doubtless to the coat of oil that can be smelled on it.

Amanda Deveraux has posed:
Amanda draws the sword slowly, letting out a loud gasp as the flash and the words blast through her mind. Her stance widens, bracing, and both hands move to the hilt. Then the blade is free and she sinks to her knees.

"Mon dieu!" she murmurs, raising it upward to point towards the ceiling. Holding it carefully, she angles the blade left and then right. And she can't get it back into the scabbard quickly enough.

When her hands leave the hilt, Amanda relaxes visibly. "I have no doubt that this is the real thing. It is HER sword, and no other's."

Indiana Jones has posed:
Something had happened to her. She had that look. The same look Marion had had when they opened their eyes and looked to each other. The realization of something awesome and beyond their understanding...and the immense relief that whatever it was had gone and left them alive.
That look was all the provenance he needed.
"Okay...let's put this stuff back, and then let's get out of here."
He put the sheathed sword on the floor next to him to replace the brickwork.
"I've seen that look before, Amanda. Was it God?"

Amanda Deveraux has posed:
Amanda shakes her head, a bit too quickly. "No." she replies in a low voice. "It was not God, but SOMETHING spoke to me. The sword itself, perhaps. There is a power inside it, or perhaps a power that speaks through it."

She helps him replace the brickwork, even going so far as to pick up the bits of the tattered oilcloth. "You need to carry it, for I will not touch it again." she declares. And indeed, the woman is quite careful not to go anywhere near it.

Indiana Jones has posed:
Indy nods, grabbing it by the scabbard, not the hilt. He seems to be that careful. Something about him might not make it as traumatic for him, but he has no wish to test such thoughts while inside a building they are illegally occupying.
At last, the bricks are back in place, and it is a short jaunt down to the door (which Indy takes care to re-lock) and down to the Jeep. The sword goes into a footlocker in the back of the Jeep.
"I'm heading to Normandy to stay one step ahead of the Germans. Do you want a ride to the northern coast?" he asks Amanda.

Amanda Deveraux has posed:
Amanda is true to her word and doesn't touch the sword again as they clean up. She's good at her profession, and when they leave there is absolutely no trace or sign that they were ever there.

Back to the Jeep, she climbs into the seat beside him and looks almost warily at the footlocker. "I would like that, Indy. But I may remain in Europe for a little while longer."

Another look at the footlocker, then she asks. "Where will you go now? Back to America? There will be another war in Europe, sooner rather than later. I have worked against the Germans before. I can do it again."

Indiana Jones has posed:
Indy nods. "I got an offer from a group working against the Nazis. I may take them up on their offer. If they want local talent, I could offer your name. But right now, I'm going to get this sword out of Europe."

Indy starts the motor, then drives our of Orleans and into an uncertain future...