[Changeling] Fold of the Garden IC [Archive] - Giant in the Playground Forums

Raz_Fox

2016-05-19, 10:54 AM

"I can only say, there we have been: but I cannot say where.
And I cannot say, how long, for that is to place it in time."

- T.S. Eliot, "Burnt Norton"

Fold of the Garden

Wander this way to the OOC. (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?486780-Fold-of-the-Garden-OOC)

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

-Exeunt Fairyland, pursued by a Black Wind-

There is a fence. Let's start with that.

It's a barbed wire fence, about hip-height, standing right in front of you. Separates the thick broadleaf forest, all stark black branches and twisted rootfingers, from a white field, most likely a pasture. The field is covered in snow. The fence is coated with snow. The forest is thick and heavy with snow. It's the powdery sort of snow, the kind that crunches beneath boots and gets inside gloves, no matter how much you try to keep it out. The barbed wire fence is bloodless. The trees are bloodless. The snow is not bloodless.

That's because you're bleeding. Not that I blame you. You've had a long, hard, difficult trip through brambles and thorns that deserve that capital T, Thorns, and part of that way chased! Well. Had to have been chased, yeah? From the way you're out of breath. From the hammer-hammer shake of your hearts, the rawness of your throats, the way air is needed in great big gulps, cold gulps, sharp as shards of ice, from the way that your legs are going to ache tomorrow, legs and ribs and all the long nasty welts and cuts and scars across your forearms, your cheeks, your legs entire. Salt on your tongues, dampness on your hair starting to turn to sleet, the crash of surf somewhere far off, and exhaustion so black and deep you could drown in it.

Give it a moment. Coming out of Fairyland for the first time is traumatic, I'll give you that. Take a moment, catch your breath, look up. The sky is a great dark vault beamed with clouds as arches, gray on deepening black, twilight giving up over to the night, and rumbling behind you, the deep sound of a thunderhead, and it's building, there'll be rain tonight, or hail, or more likely deeper snow. Thundersnow. That's a word, you know. Meteorologists made it up. Happens near water, near the sea.

I don't think it's ordinary thundersnow, though. Not if you ask me. Which, to be fair, I'm welcoming. Ask me. Question me. Tell me I'm wrong every once in a while. It's your right now to do so, and a hard-won one. Welcome back, gentlefolk. I'm glad to inform you there's no baggage handling fees, seeing as you've little enough baggage; there's no customs for whatever you might have brought with you, back to this side of the Thorns, and while I'm afraid you may have to go through Security, as you might at the end of any extra-national journey, if you declare yourself loudly and boldly enough you should get through all right.

I hope you do. I really hope so, for all of you.

For you, little Reynard, your ears all a-quiver, done with running for the first time in far too long. For you, Miss Night, your mangy stuff-stubble fur already starting to tremble at night's coming right at your heels. For you, Ace ****, ready to solve the case of where the hell's the nearest warm safehouse before you freeze to death or bleed out, but that's a Monday night for you, isn't it?

And there's a fence, right? Right. An old, rickety, barbed-wire fence with tin cans tied to every three posts down the line: a different sort of Hedge. Means it's someone's property, probably. There's a forest behind you, and thundersnow building up over it, and night falling, and soon enough I wouldn't like your chances of seeing your left hand in front of your face. Fence stretches on to your left, fence stretches on to your right, snow stretches out in front of you pure as a baby's cheek, flattening the landscape into gentle waves. Sea's somewhere close, just beyond the fence, close enough to taste, to hear at the edge of the ear, but nowhere in sight.

Go ahead and tell me what you do.

Anarion

2016-05-19, 02:01 PM

For you, little Reynard, your ears all a-quiver, done with running for the first time in far too long. For you, Miss Night, your mangy stuff-stubble fur already starting to tremble at night's coming right at your heels. For you, Ace ****, ready to solve the case of where the hell's the nearest warm safehouse before you freeze to death or bleed out, but that's a Monday night for you, isn't it?

"Am I?"

Did I say that out loud? I did. I'd never have made that mistake on the lamb, I'd have given away my position. My ears twitch. No sound of dogs, no screeching wheels from a car gunning it after me. Just these...people? Yeah people, we'll go with people, it's close enough. These people. Memories, running through the hedge, thinking the dogs were growing distant only for one to jump for my throat. Then, somehow, this beast, no this woman, beyond all comprehension, something I'd never seen from the Fat Huntsman, she had leapt out too, ripped the dog right out of the air, broken its neck in one swift motion, and drank its blood. A name, Bethanne. Was I remembering that right? We'd run, I think, and passed near the sea, and I'd seen a drowning man and we'd pulled him ashore, paddling my little legs as hard as I could and trying to keep my snout above water. Had I done that? Why had I done that? Rickard had woken up, had he even said thank you before he started walking? I don't remember. His breath stank though, like rum. I remember that.

It's cold. I know that. That's good that it's cold. The real world is cold when it's snowing, cold at night. I put a hand to my head, rub my eyes, smooth the fur, try to see if the world shifts when I look again. It doesn't. Craziest thing that, everything's still right there and I'm wondering if I'm the one that's broken. "We have to...to get inside, right? If this is legit, if we're out, we could freeze to death. We should go over the fence maybe? Fences mean there are people on the other side, the side without a forest. Maybe they'll let us stay, I remember people used to do that sometimes, if you got caught out in a storm."

Thanqol

2016-05-19, 05:36 PM

It's cold. I know that. That's good that it's cold. The real world is cold when it's snowing, cold at night. I put a hand to my head, rub my eyes, smooth the fur, try to see if the world shifts when I look again. It doesn't. Craziest thing that, everything's still right there and I'm wondering if I'm the one that's broken. "We have to...to get inside, right? If this is legit, if we're out, we could freeze to death. We should go over the fence maybe? Fences mean there are people on the other side, the side without a forest. Maybe they'll let us stay, I remember people used to do that sometimes, if you got caught out in a storm."

It's colder than the heart of a Republican mayor and the sky looms like a drunk who's weighing up the pros and cons of emptying his gut into the gutter. I'm soaked wet, soaked to my bones, and still the rain comes. If the water freezes it'll freeze me through.

"We don't jump the fence," I rasp. "Unless you can see in the dark we'll be lost in minutes, or shot by a farmer who'd be well within his rights to do so. We should follow it until we find a driveway or a light to navigate by and approach loud and slow."

Anarion

2016-05-19, 06:06 PM

It's colder than the heart of a Republican mayor and the sky looms like a drunk who's weighing up the pros and cons of emptying his gut into the gutter. I'm soaked wet, soaked to my bones, and still the rain comes. If the water freezes it'll freeze me through.

"We don't jump the fence," I rasp. "Unless you can see in the dark we'll be lost in minutes, or shot by a farmer who'd be well within his rights to do so. We should follow it until we find a driveway or a light to navigate by and approach loud and slow."

"Yeah, yeah sure, makes sense. But follow it which way?"

Thanqol

2016-05-19, 11:10 PM

"Yeah, yeah sure, makes sense. But follow it which way?"

Simple question. Kid's looking at me, warm within his fur like he's never known real cold. He might just learn though.

I could pick a direction at random and let fate sort it out but that seems like an awful lot of cash to stack on red. Let's reason this through. I've seen maps of this town before. Think about that, think about where we are in relation to the hills and sea, think about who keeps cattle. Check the fence for craftsmanship, check the ground for signs of if it's a quad bike or a horse that rides around the edges looking for holes. There's plenty of information here, a world of clues in a world of logic - plenty to work out left from right.

[I reckon I can do this as a 'solving puzzles' subset of Investigation. Intelligence+Investigation (4), spending a glamour point to decide instantly from the Kith blessing. Spending a point of willpower for the rote quality, 9-again (rerolling everything that isn't an 8, basically):
5,8,2,9
4,3,4

2 successes]

Elanorin

2016-05-20, 09:55 AM

My muscles ache, my bones ache, my mind is trembling, I'm gasping for icy air that brings the chill down my throat and in to my lungs and I feel colder than I have done in... long. My eyes are watering and I both smell and taste blood in the air and on my tongue. It's all around, it's mine, it's theirs, it hurts and it makes my stomach want to turn.

I can only stare at the white field before me as some semblance of thought returns to me, I have been running, fighting, dragging whoever fell behind for longer than I should ever have been able and I'm exhausted to the point of collapsing but all I can think of is "it wasn't winter when I left." My voice is coarse and raw, it stings my throat as I speak and I sound like I've been surviving on nothing but tobacco and alcohol. My paws are gently tingling though, and I can feel the Change approaching. Even in that short sentence the last word was already a little smoother than the first.

They're talking, I hear voices, and I turn to look at them discuss... I honestly don't know what. I can feel the look of utter lost confusion on my face as I search their strange faces. Damn, it's cold. I shiver as I feel the first of the icy cold snowy water drops trickle in to my fur and to my skin, and I hug myself. I can't help but notice their necks and the mental note of how much force it would take to bite them off is instinctive.

I close my eyes, and a tear falls as I look at the snow.

Raz_Fox

2016-05-20, 11:48 AM

I could pick a direction at random and let fate sort it out but that seems like an awful lot of cash to stack on red. Let's reason this through. I've seen maps of this town before. Think about that, think about where we are in relation to the hills and sea, think about who keeps cattle. Check the fence for craftsmanship, check the ground for signs of if it's a quad bike or a horse that rides around the edges looking for holes. There's plenty of information here, a world of clues in a world of logic - plenty to work out left from right.

[Take -1 on dice pools from exhaustion until you get some rest, mate- and that goes for all of you.]

Sea's on your left and downwards, from the sound. Means you're facing south, if you're really home. Stands to reason, don't it? Makes sense from the storm, too: they sweep downwards, often from the west, which is one of those oddities of nature that most folk in town have just learned to deal with. Fence is old, doesn't look too well cared for, tin cans aside: all splinters and leaning-loose posts.

Think this through. Sea's on your left? Means more than likely if you go down that away you'll hit the coastal road. Might take some scrambling and brushing through brambles, not to mention the occasional vertical drop, but there'll be a road. Mind you, road means you'll be even more exposed to that weather until you find a driveway or a driver willing to pick up vagrants, but, eh, pick your poison.

Thanqol

2016-05-20, 08:30 PM

They're talking, I hear voices, and I turn to look at them discuss... I honestly don't know what. I can feel the look of utter lost confusion on my face as I search their strange faces. Damn, it's cold. I shiver as I feel the first of the icy cold snowy water drops trickle in to my fur and to my skin, and I hug myself. I can't help but notice their necks and the mental note of how much force it would take to bite them off is instinctive.

I close my eyes, and a tear falls as I look at the snow.

Aw hell.

I take off my jacket and drape it around the girl's shoulders. She needs it more than I do. "That's south. That way's the road, and the town in turn. There's going to be some more brambles along the way but it's our best shot. Are you good to keep moving?"

Anarion

2016-05-20, 11:44 PM

Aw hell.

I take off my jacket and drape it around the girl's shoulders. She needs it more than I do. "That's south. That way's the road, and the town in turn. There's going to be some more brambles along the way but it's our best shot. Are you good to keep moving?"

Aw, damn, she's crying. And after all that strength, of course. I never know quite what to do, I put a hand up, but I see Rickard already has his arm over her and I drop my arm and just let him comfort her for a moment.

"You don't think...maybe if south goes to the road, then north would go to the farmhouse? Might be closer, and they could at least help us get warm before heading to town?" The idea just sort of comes from behind you, I don't make any effort to draw attention to myself, just a foxy cry carrying on the wind. No commitment to it either, but it's a thought.

Thanqol

2016-05-21, 12:26 AM

Aw, damn, she's crying. And after all that strength, of course. I never know quite what to do, I put a hand up, but I see Rickard already has his arm over her and I drop my arm and just let him comfort her for a moment.

"You don't think...maybe if south goes to the road, then north would go to the farmhouse? Might be closer, and they could at least help us get warm before heading to town?" The idea just sort of comes from behind you, I don't make any effort to draw attention to myself, just a foxy cry carrying on the wind. No commitment to it either, but it's a thought.

"Look at the fence," I say. "Dilapidated. Nobody's been around to fix it in a long while so there's nothing to say anybody even lives here. The road is the sure bet and I don't think you came this far to starve a mile out of town."

Anarion

2016-05-21, 01:23 AM

"Look at the fence," I say. "Dilapidated. Nobody's been around to fix it in a long while so there's nothing to say anybody even lives here. The road is the sure bet and I don't think you came this far to starve a mile out of town."

I shrug. It was never a fight, I'll go wherever the cop leads. Just an idea floating on the wind.

Elanorin

2016-05-21, 02:05 AM

The jacket is not able to keep the winter out but it helps and I receive it gratefully, if a little hesitant. I look up, a little worried if there's an ulterior motive to this act of kindness. I am not used to charity, it feels as strange as the cold, and just as dangerous. But the jacket is nice and I pull it tightly around my shoulders with a grateful nod.

My eyes go to the other, and I have to admit, the farmhouse sounds appealing. Especially an abandoned one. Anything that provides shelter with no people in it would be my deepest desire right now. But the South road was the more certain bet and the thought of actual warmth as opposed to the vague hope of some was incredibly seductive.

"Yeah," I give another nod, "I can go a bit further. But do we really want to seek out people?" I croak, "Look at us. I wouldn't let us in. I don't know if I'm up for taking a house by force..."

Thanqol

2016-05-21, 02:14 AM

"Worst case we spend a night in a holding cell, which comes with a warm blanket and a square meal," I say. "I like those odds better than seeing if I can run down a deer in a snowstorm. Come on."

There are other options but they're all a lot of risk for not much reward.

Raz_Fox

2016-05-21, 10:21 AM

Right, so, stop me if you've heard this one before. A fox, a werewolf and a detective all walk along a fence- yeah, you're right, that one's an old chestnut. I'll leave it where it lies, back with the Universal Horror pictures, and just mention the things you're not so used to. The pawprints left in the snow, enough to make anyone following you- in an hour or so, because the storm'll bury every sign you were here- think that here there was a bloke with lead in his heels walking his dogs, and wasn't one of them just the biggest thing in the world, and the other light and quick on the lope. Snow crunches underfoot. It's cold enough that fingers are starting to go, refusing to bend correctly when you make a fist, moving through feeling all red and throbbing to just feeling like a ghost connected to the rest of your body.

Now, here I must admit the limits of my powers as narrator for you motley lot. I can't tell you what it's like to see Bethanne here go through the change, or whether you notice it at different stages of the hike, or whether at one point you turned and she was still as ugly as all get out, a rabid dog somebody kept chained up by the fence for a month, and then you kept your eyes down on your own feet until you were clambering over some brush half-shrouded by snow and then you noticed that she was the sleekest, most beautiful monster you'd ever clapped eyes on in your entire life, even as she waded through the bushes with the force of a sledgehammer. Can't tell you that, gotta leave it up to you.

What I can tell you is that the great detective here is the only one of you properly trained for this sort of thing: the clambering through bushes, the enduring of the bitter cold, the sliding down steep embankments that the fence can only barely follow. I'm sure he's been through all sorts of worse while on his endless hunt back in Fairyland. Rikard, tell me: you helping them out? Offering directions, advice, a helping hand where needed? Or are you playing the gruff, aloof one in this story?

Either way: there's one hell of a drop, a good fifteen feet, at the end of your trip. The geography of the countryside tends to go damn near vertical once you get close enough to the sea. You can try to make the jump, but personally, I'm iffy on your chances. Or you can improvise something cunning, I suppose- or there's always following the fence down on your right, headed further south. It's likely to be one nerve-wracking road, with barbed wire on your right, a steep drop on your left, but off down in the distance you can see the soft yellow glow of electric lights. That's a heartwarming sign, I reckon.

But there's thunder, bone-rattling thunder, close at your heels. And there's a noise in that thunder that shouldn't be there: best as I can reckon, you might call it a yowl. The sort a lynx makes, but there ain't a lynx alive that can hit the pitch and deep-organ-rumble of thunder when it opens its jaws. Whatever you're gonna do, I'd hurry it up.

Go ahead and tell me what you do.

Thanqol

2016-05-23, 01:03 AM

Now, here I must admit the limits of my powers as narrator for you motley lot. I can't tell you what it's like to see Bethanne here go through the change, or whether you notice it at different stages of the hike, or whether at one point you turned and she was still as ugly as all get out, a rabid dog somebody kept chained up by the fence for a month, and then you kept your eyes down on your own feet until you were clambering over some brush half-shrouded by snow and then you noticed that she was the sleekest, most beautiful monster you'd ever clapped eyes on in your entire life, even as she waded through the bushes with the force of a sledgehammer. Can't tell you that, gotta leave it up to you.

It's like seeing the moon while coughing through the smog. All the world is poison but the silver light still cuts through your tears and fills your eyes. I still don't believe what I see.

What I can tell you is that the great detective here is the only one of you properly trained for this sort of thing: the clambering through bushes, the enduring of the bitter cold, the sliding down steep embankments that the fence can only barely follow. I'm sure he's been through all sorts of worse while on his endless hunt back in Fairyland. Rikard, tell me: you helping them out? Offering directions, advice, a helping hand where needed? Or are you playing the gruff, aloof one in this story?

Anyone who needs anything gets it. Serve and protect, written right there on the tin.

Either way: there's one hell of a drop, a good fifteen feet, at the end of your trip. The geography of the countryside tends to go damn near vertical once you get close enough to the sea. You can try to make the jump, but personally, I'm iffy on your chances. Or you can improvise something cunning, I suppose- or there's always following the fence down on your right, headed further south. It's likely to be one nerve-wracking road, with barbed wire on your right, a steep drop on your left, but off down in the distance you can see the soft yellow glow of electric lights. That's a heartwarming sign, I reckon.

But there's thunder, bone-rattling thunder, close at your heels. And there's a noise in that thunder that shouldn't be there: best as I can reckon, you might call it a yowl. The sort a lynx makes, but there ain't a lynx alive that can hit the pitch and deep-organ-rumble of thunder when it opens its jaws. Whatever you're gonna do, I'd hurry it up.

Go ahead and tell me what you do.

The hell is that - a sabre tooth tiger? And here we are literally cornered against a cliff. I reckon I could make that climb, but the civilians? No chance.

I draw the gun. I turn and kneel and aim and keep on aiming, scanning the trees against the dark. "You two leg it," I say. "I'll hold it off."

Been a long time since I shot an animal. Been a really long time. Will it feel different, I wonder?

Anarion

2016-05-23, 02:05 AM

I look at the change and I chuckle. She's pretty, that luscious fur. It's been so many years since I've felt anything like that sort of stirring of my heart. I put it aside though, for the moment. There's something after us and the cop has his gun drawn.

Me though, I'm going over to Bethanne. I hope she doesn't mind if I invade her personal space just a touch. See, she's wearing that big old coat, an officer's coat with lots of space in it. And officers, well, they're a little like boy scouts right, always be prepared and all that? Yeah, sometimes even they forget what they have. I reach inside one of the biggest pockets, pull out my hand and...

[Manipulation+Larceny+Wyrd+Willpower+spending 2 glamour. [roll0]
10 agains involved rolling a couple more 10s, so even knocking dice off the right, that's 5+successes.]

pull out a fully functional coil of rope with a grappling hook, plenty enough to get down that hill. "Wow, you cops really are prepared, huh? I'm impressed."

Elanorin

2016-05-23, 10:54 AM

She recoils a little at the unexpected approach but doesn't hinder the fox from helping himself to the pockets of the coat around her shoulders, although she watches him intently, his every move, the look on his strange face. That chuckle unsettled her a little but she refrains from comment.

When he produces the rope and hook from the pocket her face transforms, as if he were a magician who just produced a coin from her ear or named her card, her jaw drops in amazement, does a double take between him and the coat and watches in amazement.

"How- how- how did you know that was there?" she manages, and she realises immediately the difference in her own voice, talking was no longer painful, words flowed easily.

With a worried glance at the gun she takes a step back and looks down the drop they need to climb and silently grabbed the end of the coiled rope, watching the fox with the hook, ready to go.

Anarion

2016-05-23, 07:33 PM

"How- how- how did you know that was there?" she manages, and she realises immediately the difference in her own voice, talking was no longer painful, words flowed easily.

With a worried glance at the gun she takes a step back and looks down the drop they need to climb and silently grabbed the end of the coiled rope, watching the fox with the hook, ready to go.

"Oh, you know, just a good guess. I look at a big coat like that and think to myself 'yeah, this is a guy who's gonna be ready for anything.' Impressive, like I said. Speaking of which," I turn and raise my voice. "Rickard, we can get down the cliff, put that pea shooter away and let's go."

I lodge the grappling hook firmly into the rough terrain at the top of the cliff, gesturing to Bethanne to give it an extra shove to make sure it's firm, she looks way stronger than me beneath all that silky smooth fur. Then it's a scramble down. A pity, I was never much for outdoor activity, I'd rather be controlling a character doing this in a game.

[base 1+5 equipment-1 tired-1 untrained=4 dice. [roll0]]

Elanorin

2016-05-24, 02:11 AM

"Oh, you know, just a good guess. I look at a big coat like that and think to myself 'yeah, this is a guy who's gonna be ready for anything.' Impressive, like I said. Speaking of which," I turn and raise my voice. "Rickard, we can get down the cliff, put that pea shooter away and let's go."

Bethanne accepts what he says with a thoughtful frown, but he still receives one or two brief glances, she's impressed. She'd never have thought of it and likely ended up falling head first down this cliff as a result. Her grip on the rope tightens instinctively at the thought.

I lodge the grappling hook firmly into the rough terrain at the top of the cliff, gesturing to Bethanne to give it an extra shove to make sure it's firm, she looks way stronger than me beneath all that silky smooth fur. Then it's a scramble down. A pity, I was never much for outdoor activity, I'd rather be controlling a character doing this in a game.

Bethanne gave the grappling hook a good firm shove with two hands and a foot, sending it deeper in to the terrain and lodged in to some half-buried rocks. She gave herself a brief nod, happy that it was secure. She did not delay further before climbing down the cliff except to briefly pause, look at Rikard and ask "are you coming?" before continuing the climb down.

[Strength+Athletics+5 Equipment-1 tired= 8, 1, 1, 8, 10, 9, 8, 2, 5, 2, rolling the 10 again; 2, 5 successes (I am really not sure I got all this right)]

Raz_Fox

2016-05-24, 05:36 PM

Good thing the two of you got yourselves down sharpish. The wind's starting to pick up something fierce. The jacket draped across your shoulders, Miss Night, is pressed up tight against you where it's facing the wind, fluttering loose where it ain't. Snowflakes spin down like ninja stars, catching you on the head, clinging victoriously to your hair, your eyelashes, your shoulders. The thunderhead looms big and fierce and terrible, blotting out the stars, and its thunder is the howl of a wildcat, the hammering of a deep-bellied drum, and the aftershock of a wave all in one. Lightning, too, awful close.

You ain't got much time before getting hit by various Tilts, just between you and me. Blizzards don't play nice with folk, especially ones who have blood smeared down their legs and look about ready to collapse.

Rikard, roll me Wits+Composure at -2, if you wouldn't mind yourself none. Let's see what you see looking out into the night, into the bramble and the brush, the oncoming storm blotting out the stars.

Thanqol

2016-05-24, 06:25 PM

Raz_Fox

2016-05-24, 06:47 PM

Well, Rikard, between you and me, a hunter would be- there, behind the bushes. But nothing, not even a flicker of too much darkness on not enough. An animal would be- no, not there, by the twisted roots of an alder right up by the cliffside. Your eyes dart from one to the next, ruling out every hiding place except:

There.

Riding the wind.

Something as big as a small car, four-legged, above the treetops, its dark flank turned to you as it moves with the snowflurry, leaping nimbly from updraft to updraft, and on its back:

A rider.

Seen, a silhouette, and seeing in turn, its head turned towards you, something hanging loose in its hand, the other against the creature's head, and it raises that first hand, lets a lash hang long, and cracks it.

The lightning splits apart a tree not fifteen feet away.

The ridden creature lifts its head and lets out that thunder-rolling spine-tensing roar, and you can see in front of you as the storm hits the branches, the trees moaning as they're lashed about, their long branch-fingers trembling in pain, the snow killing all sight between the trunks and there's a spray of cold rain on your face, like a puddle disturbed by the wake of a car, and you've got a choice between being already running when that tempest hits you and getting off a sharp crack-crack-crack at that thing dancing high up, between the clouds and the treetops.

Go ahead and tell me what you do.

Thanqol

2016-05-24, 07:33 PM

Thor's tit! That whip that shoots lightning!

I shoot the damn thing out of his hand.

[Dexterity+Firearms 8, -3 called shot to the hand, -1 exhaustion, no range penalties mentioned so I'll assume he's within 35' (knock off dice if not), defense doesn't apply against firearms. Spending willpower for the +3.

6,10,10,6,10,4,5
8,7,3

4 successes +2 damage, 6 successes. That's the Arm Wrack tilt plus 6 levels of damage.]

Raz_Fox

2016-05-24, 08:45 PM

Crack.

That's a damn marksman's eye you have there, Rikard. If everyone had your steady hand, there'd be little left in the Hedge but bullet casings and the stink of gunpowder. The screech that follows sounds something like a barn owl, if it were the size of a horse and having all its feathers plucked out one by one; the rider jerks upwards, and the whip trails down beneath it-

And the storm catches up with you, a howling, wild thing. The wind hits you like a fist to the gut, nearly knocks you right off your feet. The world's a white haze, ice and powder-snow sticking to your wet skin. This is the sort of weather folk stay indoors for, and grab a snow shovel to dig themselves out after. Bad for driving, worse for walking, and here's you, so close to home and yet far too far if the weather gets any worse.

[Blizzard and Heavy Wind tilts; take 2B per turn, reflexive Dex+Athletics to avoid damage, with -1 to all Physical rolls on top of that. Bethanne and Ears, you've got a turn or so before the storm hits you. Lights are three turns away sprinting.]

Go ahead and tell me what you do.

Anarion

2016-05-24, 08:59 PM

Elanorin

2016-05-26, 02:09 AM

"Idiot. Stupid, brave, idiot." Man, wow, I am saying way too many things out loud.

I grab Bethanne, my arm around her shoulder, and push her to run. "Come on, that fool cop didn't just give his life so we could stand around and grab the body afterwards. Run! Run now, and if he can still stand somewhere in there, he'll follow us."

[I'm sprinting straight away from the storm, though if Bethanne resists we'll have to work that out somehow, not going without her.]

Running. Running is almost instinctive by now and it does not take much to send her off in another sprint for her life. That storm is more than enough incentive and as the fox urges her on he barely has to nudge her to have her run for her life towards those lights, holding that coat tight around her.

Thanqol

2016-05-26, 06:57 PM

Raz_Fox

2016-05-27, 12:06 AM

There's a certain sort of feeling people get, sometimes, when they're out running with their backs to the wind. Like it's going to lift them up, like their steps are going to go out far too wide, like they're no longer in full control of where their body's going. I daresay that applies to you two, running down the road full-tilt towards the greasy yellow electric lights, a little bit of civilization out here in the Maine night. By my reckoning (not that you two have to pay too much attention to me and what I think) it's most likely the front gate of the farmer's land, the one with the fence you were skirting.

But here it comes, biting at your toes and your hips and your ears, a hungry whirling thing: a winter storm, and this one just about as bad as anything you saw when you were kids. Is it just your imagination, or is that light failing in front of you as the snow whips all about you? Surely just your imagination. Not like it's going to get blown out like a candle, leaving you here in the black with nowhere to go.

(They'll find you tomorrow, if that light goes out. Your bodies by the side of the road, blackblue toes like gangrenous seeds planted in the snow.)

Start rolling Dex+Athletics if you want to survive the night, and go ahead and tell me what you do.

Rikard, my friend, funny you should mention that. What with exposed skin wounds and the general exhaustion of the flight from Fairyland, I'm surprised your immune system is even bothering to clock in. It's about as effective as a hungover cop on Sunday morning. Can you hear that? That's a deep rib-shaking cough you've got there, the kind that makes the shield drilled and bolted to your bones tremble. The damp's in you, friend, and it's just going to get worse the longer you stay out here.

Mark the Sick Condition, and treat it as another -1 to rolls for now. It's going to get worse if you don't find shelter, and sharpish. So, to sum up: that's a blanket -3 to physical rolls, -2 to mental/social. Making your way along the cliffside's another tricky Dex+Athletics and you don't want to fail that one. You could hop the fence, of course, make it easier on yourself- then it's just grabbing that barbed wire with one hand and making sure you don't lose your way until you make your way to wherever those civilians are headed. Or you could try shimmying down the rope, but that's going to be a -4 total in this damn wind.

The thunder-bark of that awful cat rolls out awful close. From in front of you, 'less it's to one side or the other. Not that it matters, seeing as the thing can fly. For all you know it could be traipsing right behind your back on silent paws and opening up jaws full of- well, probably teeth. Who knows.

Go ahead and tell me what you do.

Thanqol

2016-05-27, 12:54 AM

Rikard, my friend, funny you should mention that. What with exposed skin wounds and the general exhaustion of the flight from Fairyland, I'm surprised your immune system is even bothering to clock in. It's about as effective as a hungover cop on Sunday morning. Can you hear that? That's a deep rib-shaking cough you've got there, the kind that makes the shield drilled and bolted to your bones tremble. The damp's in you, friend, and it's just going to get worse the longer you stay out here.

Mark the Sick Condition, and treat it as another -1 to rolls for now. It's going to get worse if you don't find shelter, and sharpish. So, to sum up: that's a blanket -3 to physical rolls, -2 to mental/social. Making your way along the cliffside's another tricky Dex+Athletics and you don't want to fail that one. You could hop the fence, of course, make it easier on yourself- then it's just grabbing that barbed wire with one hand and making sure you don't lose your way until you make your way to wherever those civilians are headed. Or you could try shimmying down the rope, but that's going to be a -4 total in this damn wind.

The thunder-bark of that awful cat rolls out awful close. From in front of you, 'less it's to one side or the other. Not that it matters, seeing as the thing can fly. For all you know it could be traipsing right behind your back on silent paws and opening up jaws full of- well, probably teeth. Who knows.

Go ahead and tell me what you do.

I flinch when I hear the cat bark; not because it scares me (though it does/should) but because my mind connects it to the voice of my angry mother yelling at me to get in out of the snow. Ma, not now, I got a tiger after me.

I can think of any one of a dozen things that'd make this climb easier but I don't have them on hand, or the kid to call them up. All I got is a gun freezing to my hand and years of practice at running. I shake frost from my eyes and keep a steady pace forwards into the storm, glancing back every time there's a sound, looking for a shadow heavy enough to put a round in.

[Dex+Athletics-3 = 3
8,10,3 (2 successes)
1]

Anarion

2016-05-27, 02:21 AM

I run hell bent towards that light and when I get there, I take a look around. Farmer's front gate, leads up along a short road to a house, right? If that's the case, I pull Bethanne up short and we walk, briskly, but not running up to the front door of the house and we knock politely, but firmly, ring a bell if there is one. You got that, firmly but also politely. We're not breaking down the door here, we're asking for hospitality. Politely.

I'm gonna be beat up by the end of it though, I can tell you that. I may have been out on the lamb for years and years, and taken on the form of a fox, but back here, my body is still that kid that left so long ago. You know, the one that sat in front of the computer too long and got way too pale and gangly for his own good. Sure, there's fox fur, you can't see the skin now, but still, I wasn't cut out for running or weathering a cold winter storm without a nice down coat and a warm cup of hot cocoa (no less than 3 marshmallows, minimum).

[3 dex+athletics -1 untrained -1 fatigue= 1 die but not a chance die. [roll0] failed. On that trend, I'll take upgrades to dramatic for $500, Alex.]

Elanorin

2016-05-29, 04:18 AM

There's a certain sort of feeling people get, sometimes, when they're out running with their backs to the wind. Like it's going to lift them up, like their steps are going to go out far too wide, like they're no longer in full control of where their body's going. I daresay that applies to you two, running down the road full-tilt towards the greasy yellow electric lights, a little bit of civilization out here in the Maine night. By my reckoning (not that you two have to pay too much attention to me and what I think) it's most likely the front gate of the farmer's land, the one with the fence you were skirting.

But here it comes, biting at your toes and your hips and your ears, a hungry whirling thing: a winter storm, and this one just about as bad as anything you saw when you were kids. Is it just your imagination, or is that light failing in front of you as the snow whips all about you? Surely just your imagination. Not like it's going to get blown out like a candle, leaving you here in the black with nowhere to go.

(They'll find you tomorrow, if that light goes out. Your bodies by the side of the road, blackblue toes like gangrenous seeds planted in the snow.)

Start rolling Dex+Athletics if you want to survive the night, and go ahead and tell me what you do.

I run hell bent towards that light and when I get there, I take a look around. Farmer's front gate, leads up along a short road to a house, right? If that's the case, I pull Bethanne up short and we walk, briskly, but not running up to the front door of the house and we knock politely, but firmly, ring a bell if there is one. You got that, firmly but also politely. We're not breaking down the door here, we're asking for hospitality. Politely.

I'm gonna be beat up by the end of it though, I can tell you that. I may have been out on the lamb for years and years, and taken on the form of a fox, but back here, my body is still that kid that left so long ago. You know, the one that sat in front of the computer too long and got way too pale and gangly for his own good. Sure, there's fox fur, you can't see the skin now, but still, I wasn't cut out for running or weathering a cold winter storm without a nice down coat and a warm cup of hot cocoa (no less than 3 marshmallows, minimum).

[3 dex+athletics -1 untrained -1 fatigue= 1 die but not a chance die. [roll0] failed. On that trend, I'll take upgrades to dramatic for $500, Alex.]

Bethanne is running with the fox and as the storm hits she closes the gap between them as if running huddled together will lessen the effort. She is ploughing through the storm like a battering ram, grabbing the fox to ensure he keeps up.

She is reluctant to slow down for the sake of politeness but concedes to close that last distance in a reluctant hurried skulk.

[I'm going to spend 1 Willpower here for 3 extra dice.
1 dex + 1 athletics -1 fatigue +3 willpower = 5, 9, 4, 4]

Raz_Fox

2016-05-30, 05:14 PM

Rikard, I'll be honest with you: that's one hell of a walk. Gonna need one more Dex+Athletics; you're surviving the storm, but if you're trying to make your way between the fence and the cliffside, one wrong step and you're gonna be hitting the asphalt fifteen feet below. What are your shoes like? Got good grip on 'em? Or are they wet and frosting over and so cold you might as well have shoved your feet in a bucket of ice water? Can you feel your feet any more?

Bethanne, you might be the only reason the two of you make it to the door. Little kid like the fox here, he might have just blown away in the storm. His eyes look a little unfocused, don't they? Awful scary, that. But he rap-tap-taps on the door, his hand shaking, looking for all the world like he's ready to fall over. Jack, I'll be blunt: pick up the Sick condition, too. You'd best hope whoever's in there has some chicken soup for you.

Your first knock goes unanswered, but I bet you knock twice, don'cha? Don't want to freeze to death and all. And, of course, you ring the bell, which is an actual little bell hanging by the door, no fancy push-the-button bit of faerie-wiring here, no, you're back in town and back in town means normal, cobbled together, and poor. Not that the cobbled-togetherness bothers you, if I read you right; you seem like the sort of young man who'd always throw together something on his own dime and make it work sweeter than if he'd bought it at the store.

There's a jostling, a jumbling, the sound of somebody inside. An inarticulate blossoming of a human voice on the other side of the door: loud, forceful, incoherent. Tramp, tramp, tramp, the shadow of somebody visible through the old glass in the center of the door. The door opens half an inch, enough for them to see you.

"Go away." The voice has gravel in it, and the bass rumble of a truck backing up, and more than one can of beer. Definitely more than one. Sounds like it's coming from about your height, Jack, and you can see something through that half-inch like a burning cinder in the dark. It's looking at you, boring you through. "I ain't trucking with no Court business, nor no Market business, nor none of vagrants, not tonight. Ain't you got any decency? Bothering me, on my land, on Christmas bleedin' Eve? It's unholy. The Baby Jesus only gets his presents once. Go shove your heads in a snowbank."

Elanorin

2016-05-31, 10:01 AM

Bethanne, you might be the only reason the two of you make it to the door. Little kid like the fox here, he might have just blown away in the storm. His eyes look a little unfocused, don't they? Awful scary, that. But he rap-tap-taps on the door, his hand shaking, looking for all the world like he's ready to fall over. Jack, I'll be blunt: pick up the Sick condition, too. You'd best hope whoever's in there has some chicken soup for you.

Your first knock goes unanswered, but I bet you knock twice, don'cha? Don't want to freeze to death and all. And, of course, you ring the bell, which is an actual little bell hanging by the door, no fancy push-the-button bit of faerie-wiring here, no, you're back in town and back in town means normal, cobbled together, and poor. Not that the cobbled-togetherness bothers you, if I read you right; you seem like the sort of young man who'd always throw together something on his own dime and make it work sweeter than if he'd bought it at the store.

There's a jostling, a jumbling, the sound of somebody inside. An inarticulate blossoming of a human voice on the other side of the door: loud, forceful, incoherent. Tramp, tramp, tramp, the shadow of somebody visible through the old glass in the center of the door. The door opens half an inch, enough for them to see you.

"Go away." The voice has gravel in it, and the bass rumble of a truck backing up, and more than one can of beer. Definitely more than one. Sounds like it's coming from about your height, Jack, and you can see something through that half-inch like a burning cinder in the dark. It's looking at you, boring you through. "I ain't trucking with no Court business, nor no Market business, nor none of vagrants, not tonight. Ain't you got any decency? Bothering me, on my land, on Christmas bleedin' Eve? It's unholy. The Baby Jesus only gets his presents once. Go shove your heads in a snowbank."

"M-merry Christm-mas," Bethanne manages between chattering teeth as she shoves herself forwards to the barely open door to speak to the man inside. "I'm r-really sorry to bother y-you but we're freezing with nowhere to go. We won't be t-t-trouble, ah, promise. I can cook. I can cook for all of us. I-if y-you like."

[Assuming this is a... Persuasion Roll? : Manipulation 4 + Persuasion 5 + Night Time 4 - fatigue 1 = 9, 7, 9, 6, 2, 3, 2, 3, 8, 2, 6, 7]

Thanqol

2016-06-01, 03:04 AM

Raz_Fox

2016-06-01, 06:43 PM

The door opens as soon as the word "promise" leaves your lips, Miss Night. All creak in the hinges and scrape against the mat, that door is, and on the other side's a nightmare: a cinder-eyed, barrel-chested woman with a lower jaw stuffed too full with steel stake-teeth. And I mean it when I say she's cinder-eyed, folks, two bright coals glimmering away where her eyes should properly be. She only comes up to Jack's height, but her ashy hair's a curly bush that adds a little to her stature.

And isn't this just the way of the world? She's wearing a flannel shirt that strains at her shoulders, striped pajama pants, and no shoes. Not exactly the sort of thing a monster is supposed to be wearing, not in the least.

"That's a promise, then?" There's a cigarette clenched between two fingers and a thumb, which she uses like a conductor's baton. Her voice comes welling up from some pit down deep in her lungs. "That you and him, no matter what, won't cause me no trouble?" She pauses for a moment, looking you hard in the eye, and the moment's gone too fast before she bellows: "Out with it, I don't have all night and you're letting the snow in, you mealy-mouthed pollywogs."

Go ahead and tell me what you do.

Step. Step. Step. Step. The whole wide world reduced by the blizzard down to the space between one foot and the next. On one side of you, Ace ****, razor wire and tin cans and wood, and turf, and earth, and snow, with ice hiding in the spaces between. Crunch. The white looks washed-out and grey all around you, like you dragged those film-grain nights back from Fairyland with you. Like Milton said, wherever I am is hell, and hell is you, making your way through the snow.

Someone tells you to get going. They're there in the corner of your eye: a half-glimpsed figure, on the other side of the fence, hand held up to shield eyes from the whirlygig snow buffeting the world.

They're not there when you turn your head to get a better look. But it's dark out, and if they stepped back-

The tin cans are rattling slow, and not with the wind at all.

And there's the yellow pool of light in the darkness in front of you. And the long, slow yowl of something behind you, coming up fast.

Go ahead and tell me what you do.

Anarion

2016-06-01, 07:02 PM

The door opens as soon as the word "promise" leaves your lips, Miss Night. All creak in the hinges and scrape against the mat, that door is, and on the other side's a nightmare: a cinder-eyed, barrel-chested woman with a lower jaw stuffed too full with steel stake-teeth. And I mean it when I say she's cinder-eyed, folks, two bright coals glimmering away where her eyes should properly be. She only comes up to Jack's height, but her ashy hair's a curly bush that adds a little to her stature.

And isn't this just the way of the world? She's wearing a flannel shirt that strains at her shoulders, striped pajama pants, and no shoes. Not exactly the sort of thing a monster is supposed to be wearing, not in the least.

"That's a promise, then?" There's a cigarette clenched between two fingers and a thumb, which she uses like a conductor's baton. Her voice comes welling up from some pit down deep in her lungs. "That you and him, no matter what, won't cause me no trouble?" She pauses for a moment, looking you hard in the eye, and the moment's gone too fast before she bellows: "Out with it, I don't have all night and you're letting the snow in, you mealy-mouthed pollywogs."

Go ahead and tell me what you do.

I wriggle free of Bethanne's warm fur (somewhat reluctantly I confess) and cut in before anybody does anything untoward. "To the extent that...*a-achoo!*" I try to at least put my sleeve in the way and sneeze into cloth and fur, not onto the little cinder woman. "Ahem, to the extent that we can control it, we'll gladly make that promise. You can seal my words right here, no resistance. I promise, for the both of us, that we won't do anything to intentionally cause you trouble."

You don't run around Faerie for decades without figuring out that you never promise something that's beyond your power to deliver. It goes really, really badly. Ask me about Ann Smith sometime, or old Schmitty. It goes badly, okay? And I'm sure any changeling who isn't a total jerk knows that too.

Thanqol

2016-06-03, 02:52 AM

Step. Step. Step. Step. The whole wide world reduced by the blizzard down to the space between one foot and the next. On one side of you, Ace ****, razor wire and tin cans and wood, and turf, and earth, and snow, with ice hiding in the spaces between. Crunch. The white looks washed-out and grey all around you, like you dragged those film-grain nights back from Fairyland with you. Like Milton said, wherever I am is hell, and hell is you, making your way through the snow.

Someone tells you to get going. They're there in the corner of your eye: a half-glimpsed figure, on the other side of the fence, hand held up to shield eyes from the whirlygig snow buffeting the world.

They're not there when you turn your head to get a better look. But it's dark out, and if they stepped back-

The tin cans are rattling slow, and not with the wind at all.

And there's the yellow pool of light in the darkness in front of you. And the long, slow yowl of something behind you, coming up fast.

Go ahead and tell me what you do.

So believe it or not I ain't never fought no cougar in no snowstorm before, so all that training on how to tactically engage armed suspects in crowded urban environments ain't doing me a whole lot of good right now.

But hey, better to go with what you know then to make up new sh*t on the spot. I run forwards, yell "POLICE" at the top of my lungs, kick in the door, instantly scan for visible weapons, and then drop into a crouch for cover immediately behind the doorway on the inside of the house with my weapon drawn. By the book, as textbook as it gets.

[Indulging my vice by way of kicking in the door in the middle of an awkward negotiation: Willpower back to 4/6]

Raz_Fox

2016-06-03, 01:48 PM

Right, Ears. Turns out all that learning you picked up while out of town sure comes in handy every now and then, don't it just. The cinder-woman's expression softens just a little, looking your sorry state over, and she grumbles: "Well, then, don't you two scuff up the carpet, ain't got time to clean it for every vagrant that comes wandering through town. Get yourselves in, sharplike, ain't leaving this open for the black wind to come sweep us up. In, in, in!" She waves you in with the cigarette, into a house that ain't much like you might be expecting.

Go 'head and take a Beat, little Reynard. You'll earn it well enough.

For one thing, most houses have heating on in the winter. Not this one. Ain't a lick of heat here, 'cept from the candles. Did I mention the candles? Well, they're mentioned now. Candles all over the place, flickering in the wind that's being let in. Red candles, white candles, black candles, blue candles. Candles heaped up on plates, ringing the empty frame of a mirror on the wall across from the door, casting their unsteady light all over the room on your left, the one that looks like a junkyard met up with a living room. Small, vacant-eyed television set, low table covered in papers and wax and beer cans, cigarette burns on the carpet, ashtray that looks like the last resting place of a thousand white-and-golden coins, shadowed pictures hung up on the wall taking up space next to the crosses, and a radio softly crooning White Christmas from the corner. Smells like smoke and wax and artificial fruit and burnt things, like the breath of someone's chain-smoking grandmother, and the whole effect's enough to make a body wonder whether Fairyland's always creeping in to the fields we know, and it's only now that you've got eyes to see it.

"You're two lucky I ain't heartless," she says, as she starts to close the door, pushing against the howling wind, and over her shoulder can be seen a sprinting figure. "Haven't the time to be all hero, like Jack-"

Wham bam door-shaking thump hinges groaning all a-tumble here comes Rikard Rothbrook, knocking over the world in his hurry, shoulder at one side of the door and then right at the other, hands on his bloody-pommeled firecracker, one eye out to watch for the cougar.

All the candles in the house turn into tall tongues of flame, flickering Pentacostal will-o'-the-wisps that threaten to singe fur, watch your step now, don't get yourselves terminally warm too quick. And two hands like industrial presses lock around your neck, Rikard, strong and implacable as a car bearing down on you, as the cinder-woman defends her house. She ain't even saying nothing, no, she's just looking to choke you out from behind your back and be done with it.

Take yourself 4B in damage and hope someone speaks up for you in this house of fire and stone.

Ears? Bethanne? Go ahead and tell me what comes next.

Anarion

2016-06-03, 02:12 PM

Ears? Bethanne? Go ahead and tell me what comes next.

There are a lot of ways to talk. Not all of them even require speech. Now, me, I'm not the sort of fox that does well shouting at the top of his lungs. I'm a fast talker, a thinker, a maker, quick fingers and inventive mind. And right now, what we want is calm. No guns, no fire no loud noises or frightened folk. Just a little *Achoo* a little chicken soup and a warm bed to snuggle in for a night.

I put a hand on each of them. A soft hand, soft paw, gentle pressure. Just enough for the cinder woman to feel the resistance on her choking arm, and enough for Rickard to have his gun pressed down.

"Shh" I say. Then I sniffle, and cough into my arm, and try again. "No need for fighting, right? Nobody here doing nothing but sheltering from a storm in a nice warm place. No need for guns, yeah? We're all friends here. Or friends to be."

Just soft paws, soft voice, talking quickly, sure, sure, but soft, calming. No need to fight.

[Manipulation+Persuasion-2 for being sick and tired=5 dice. Let's go ahead and willpower on this one too. We could all use some rest. [roll0]]
10 again is an 8, 3 successes.

Elanorin

2016-06-04, 06:55 PM

I wriggle free of Bethanne's warm fur (somewhat reluctantly I confess) and cut in before anybody does anything untoward. "To the extent that...*a-achoo!*" I try to at least put my sleeve in the way and sneeze into cloth and fur, not onto the little cinder woman. "Ahem, to the extent that we can control it, we'll gladly make that promise. You can seal my words right here, no resistance. I promise, for the both of us, that we won't do anything to intentionally cause you trouble."

You don't run around Faerie for decades without figuring out that you never promise something that's beyond your power to deliver. It goes really, really badly. Ask me about Ann Smith sometime, or old Schmitty. It goes badly, okay? And I'm sure any changeling who isn't a total jerk knows that too.

Bethanne didn't. Then again, perhaps she is indeed a jerk.

Not an idiot however and it was quickly dawning on her that fox had just stepped in to fix something, save her, from blundering head-first in to a trap. While she was surprised, and a little confused, the fox had earned enough trust for her to remain still and silent as he negotiated.

Right, Ears. Turns out all that learning you picked up while out of town sure comes in handy every now and then, don't it just. The cinder-woman's expression softens just a little, looking your sorry state over, and she grumbles: "Well, then, don't you two scuff up the carpet, ain't got time to clean it for every vagrant that comes wandering through town. Get yourselves in, sharplike, ain't leaving this open for the black wind to come sweep us up. In, in, in!" She waves you in with the cigarette, into a house that ain't much like you might be expecting.

This cinder-woman, and her house, was anything but inviting and Bethanne was wondering when she'd be able to leave as soon as she set foot inside. What was that awful smell?

"You're two lucky I ain't heartless," she says, as she starts to close the door, pushing against the howling wind, and over her shoulder can be seen a sprinting figure. "Haven't the time to be all hero, like Jack-"

So believe it or not I ain't never fought no cougar in no snowstorm before, so all that training on how to tactically engage armed suspects in crowded urban environments ain't doing me a whole lot of good right now.

But hey, better to go with what you know then to make up new sh*t on the spot. I run forwards, yell "POLICE" at the top of my lungs, kick in the door, instantly scan for visible weapons, and then drop into a crouch for cover immediately behind the doorway on the inside of the house with my weapon drawn. By the book, as textbook as it gets.

Wham bam door-shaking thump hinges groaning all a-tumble here comes Rikard Rothbrook, knocking over the world in his hurry, shoulder at one side of the door and then right at the other, hands on his bloody-pommeled firecracker, one eye out to watch for the cougar.

All the candles in the house turn into tall tongues of flame, flickering Pentacostal will-o'-the-wisps that threaten to singe fur, watch your step now, don't get yourselves terminally warm too quick. And two hands like industrial presses lock around your neck, Rikard, strong and implacable as a car bearing down on you, as the cinder-woman defends her house. She ain't even saying nothing, no, she's just looking to choke you out from behind your back and be done with it.

Take yourself 4B in damage and hope someone speaks up for you in this house of fire and stone.

Ears? Bethanne? Go ahead and tell me what comes next.

Bethanne's not good with surprises. They rarely bring anything good, and all these sudden and loud noises, doors suddenly bursting open, flaming candles, creepy creeps trying to kill trusted ally... it's enough to make her fur stand on end, her claws to twitch and the candlelight to reveal her white teeth.

There are a lot of ways to talk. Not all of them even require speech. Now, me, I'm not the sort of fox that does well shouting at the top of his lungs. I'm a fast talker, a thinker, a maker, quick fingers and inventive mind. And right now, what we want is calm. No guns, no fire no loud noises or frightened folk. Just a little *Achoo* a little chicken soup and a warm bed to snuggle in for a night.

I put a hand on each of them. A soft hand, soft paw, gentle pressure. Just enough for the cinder woman to feel the resistance on her choking arm, and enough for Rickard to have his gun pressed down.

"Shh" I say. Then I sniffle, and cough into my arm, and try again. "No need for fighting, right? Nobody here doing nothing but sheltering from a storm in a nice warm place. No need for guns, yeah? We're all friends here. Or friends to be."

Just soft paws, soft voice, talking quickly, sure, sure, but soft, calming. No need to fight.

Once more fox steps in to save the moment from unknown imminent disasters, this was clearly his talent. But still, whether it underlines or undermines his efforts to mediate, Bethanne lets out a low growl of waning from behind him.

Raz_Fox

2016-06-04, 10:00 PM

"All friends here? I don't know you lot from Jude," the cinder-woman says, contemptuously. But she releases her hands from around Rikard's neck (and they're shaking, the veins on the back of those rough hands are the same color as her burning eyes, and they're trembling) and instead slams the door shut. The wind's howling outside fit to wake the dead, the candle-flames are dwindling down, leaving only dancing afterimages in your eyes- well, save for you, Rikard. I think the black stars from in front your eyes are the sort that you get when you suddenly get air again. Tastes good, don't it? Even when it's all smoke and soot and ice on the back of the tongue.

"But you're in," she continues, her eyes going from you, Ears, to you, Bethanne, to Rikard, and back to Ears. "Damn fool I am. But I let you in, and I'll drown before I let you out on a night like tonight. Ain't right. I'll regret it, no doubt, most like you're with the slavers, or hunter's hounds, but I'm better than some folk around here, believe you me." The candles are little wisps now, stirring gently with the breeze of the house.

Now, to Rikard, she adds: "And if I see that thing out again while you're under my roof I'll see you dead first, lawman or no lawman, and you can seal my words on that. I ain't survived this long just to see someone shoot me dead in my own house. I have rights, you know. Constitutional rights. Natural-born citizen of these United States. I know my rights."

Thanqol

2016-06-05, 03:16 AM

I ain't in much state to comment on the lady's rights, being as I am choking and gasping for breath on all fours.

I'm on 6B/7 so I ain't up to much right now. I'll be with you in a bit.

Anarion

2016-06-05, 03:56 AM

Elanorin

2016-06-05, 05:26 PM

"Could use more damn fools in the world, if you ask me." I manage a weak smile before another cough. It's better with the door shut and the wind out, but I still feel like there's a burr that's managed to lodge its way into my throat, pitch a tent, and settle in for a long night of irritation. "I'm Jack, the choking fellow is Rickard, he's a little overzealous but he cares I think, and I'll let the lovely lady introduce herself. Don't suppose you've got any chicken soup? Or a name? Soup's more important though."

"Bethanne," Bethanne said simply, if a little awkwardly, unsure what else to fill her introduction with. All the ususal polite phrases seemed redundant in their current situation. Besides, she was increasingly distracted and concerned with Rikard and the state he was in down on the floor. "Thanks," was all she managed to add before pushing passed the others and kneeling down by Rikard.

She took his face in her hands and checked how he was doing, if he was about to pass out. Her movements were clumsy, old half forgotten instincts, this was muscle memory, but she had so many new muscles since she last did this.

"You going to live, hero?" she asked, with a hint of sarcasm.

Raz_Fox

2016-06-05, 06:49 PM

The cinder-woman opens her mouth to answer you, and the wind rattles the door so hard you could swear something was pounding on the glass in the middle of the door. She reaches over Rikard's head, wordlessly, and slams the deadbolt on the door into place, locking the storm out and you in. Then she makes the universal gesture for being done with something onerous: wiping off her palms on each other, then on her fuzzy pajama pants. Those hands are still shaking.

"Rikard. Like Rikard Rothbrook? Is that him? Should have stayed out there, then, if you ask me. He ain't nothing but trouble, breaking his momma's heart like that, running around breaking into other folk's homes, shaving his head and all. Not that he looks particularly shaved. Maybe it ain't the same Rikard. One way or the other, he's in, and here I am, forced to play host to three beggars, on Christmas Eve of all nights."

You might have expected her to shuffle, but that sure isn't shuffling. It's a stiff gait, the sort that people get when they've had back trouble, but there's a confidence to it nonetheless. She starts to head back and rightwards, towards the right-angled hall opposite the living room. "I'm Jackie. Jackie Blacktooth." And that's a name you should know, Rikard- and probably you too, Bethanne. The Blacktooth family was staying afloat, right up until Fenton Blacktooth's rebellious hellion of a daughter lit out to go to New York, leaving him heartbroke and alone in the world, and that so soon on the heels of his wife (who was your mother's cousin, Rikard, if I remember correctly) passing away from the cancer. He carried on for a while, flirted with girls half his age, and passed away unexpectedly while at home. Jacqueline didn't even bother coming back for his funeral, but unexpectedly moved back to the farm and became a recluse, oh, six years ago?

The Blacktooths could have been something. But then life broke them over its knee, and all that's left is Jackie Blacktooth, with an oversized lower jaw and burning cinder eyes in a house that smells like hell and is colder than an ex's heart.

"Now, I might have some soup in the larder? Don't rightly remember what all's in there. Help yourselves to it. There's something in the crockpot from Tuesday, I think, if you want to warm it up. Feel free to crack open a can or two, it's weak pig-grease swill but it's what I've got." She turns the corner, leaving you alone for a moment in the foyer. White Christmas has transitioned to Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas, the wind's screaming fit to burst but you're indoors, there's blood and snow and frost-rime smeared all over the three of you, and you're all alive.

I don't know about you, but that sounds pretty exciting to me.

Thanqol

2016-06-05, 07:23 PM

"Bethanne," Bethanne said simply, if a little awkwardly, unsure what else to fill her introduction with. All the ususal polite phrases seemed redundant in their current situation. Besides, she was increasingly distracted and concerned with Rikard and the state he was in down on the floor. "Thanks," was all she managed to add before pushing passed the others and kneeling down by Rikard.

She took his face in her hands and checked how he was doing, if he was about to pass out. Her movements were clumsy, old half forgotten instincts, this was muscle memory, but she had so many new muscles since she last did this.

"You going to live, hero?" she asked, with a hint of sarcasm.

Jesus she's gorgeous up close. "Yeah," I gasp even though my throat is developing a purple necktie. "Give me a minute, I'll be fine."

The cinder-woman opens her mouth to answer you, and the wind rattles the door so hard you could swear something was pounding on the glass in the middle of the door. She reaches over Rikard's head, wordlessly, and slams the deadbolt on the door into place, locking the storm out and you in. Then she makes the universal gesture for being done with something onerous: wiping off her palms on each other, then on her fuzzy pajama pants. Those hands are still shaking.

"Rikard. Like Rikard Rothbrook? Is that him? Should have stayed out there, then, if you ask me. He ain't nothing but trouble, breaking his momma's heart like that, running around breaking into other folk's homes, shaving his head and all. Not that he looks particularly shaved. Maybe it ain't the same Rikard. One way or the other, he's in, and here I am, forced to play host to three beggars, on Christmas Eve of all nights."

"I don't... have any... frankincense, sorry," I wheezed out between coughs. I developed the sense of mind to stick my gun back in its holster. It didn't feel like it liked that.

The hell's she on about? Is she mixing me up with one of my brothers? Probably. Gustav was always a second storey man.

Anarion

2016-06-07, 01:03 AM

"Merry Christmas, one and aa-chaha" I try to be lighthearted, wind up in a cough. Sigh. Rickard is taking it better than I am, but he looks beat up, I can see it in his eyes, more sunken than normal, bags underneath, the slump of his shoulders as he works to get up. Bethanne is about the only one who's okay here and even she's exhausted. I make a motion for anyone who wants to follow me to go see what's in the larder or the crockpot. I'll take whatever smells edible. I could really go for some meat, to be honest. Sweet, succulent red meat, still just a little bloody would be so, so good.

Elanorin

2016-06-07, 02:18 PM

Jesus she's gorgeous up close. "Yeah," I gasp even though my throat is developing a purple necktie. "Give me a minute, I'll be fine."

"Okay..." she accepted, a little reluctantly, not entirely sure she believed him but unwilling to press the issue. "Well if that changes, let me know, I might help." It was not so much a reluctance to help, more a lack of faith in her own ability to actually make things not-worse. She offered a quick apologetic smile before getting back up with a tired groan.

I make a motion for anyone who wants to follow me to go see what's in the larder or the crockpot. I'll take whatever smells edible. I could really go for some meat, to be honest. Sweet, succulent red meat, still just a little bloody would be so, so good.

Leaning more heavily on walls and door frames than she cared to admit she too found her way to the kitchen, although, unlike fox, she was staying well clear of anything that smelled meaty as she sniffed and peered in pots, cupboards and larders.

"I could sleep for a week. On the floor if I have to. It's perhaps not a dream haven, but we've been lucky here," she commented as she leaned down and sniffed the content of the crockpot.

Raz_Fox

2016-06-07, 07:05 PM

The kitchen's accessible through the dining room: both the turn on the right and the back of the living room empty out into it. The lights, when switched on, bathe the frigid room in a warm orange glow- if you lot even bother to turn them on. You could just keep navigating by candlelight. How many miles to home? And you lot know the rest of that rhyme, so I won't bother with telling you the rest.

Countertop, messy as anything, to the right, and a crockpot that has what looks like heavily congealed beef stroganoff in it. The entire thing might count as a solid now, and probably needs to be removed with a crowbar. There are Burger King wrappers and Bud Lite cans stuffed in the trash, along with eggshells and potato rinds and something that might be a rotten onion. Sink, too. Two cups stacked up in it.

To the left, refrigerator (with a box full of eggs, fresh ones, straight from the hen, and chicken meat down in the meat drawer, and several six-packs of beer) and a pantry (with old soup cans, half-empty bags of pasta noodles, a bag for potatoes, a bag for onions, spices on a rack on the inside of the door). Enough to make a meal for you three, I think.

The cinder-woman herself is rummaging around in the rooms adjacent to the dining room, murmuring to herself, just at the edge of hearing.

Thanqol

2016-06-08, 05:34 AM

Anarion

2016-06-08, 01:16 PM

I find my voice.

"There is something out there," I manage. "A rider. A tiger. It's still out there." I swallow painfully and make my circuitous way to my feet. "We are not safe." My gun slips into my hand and I absently holster it again. "I can fight it."

I don't care what startling revelation there is, I'm making soup. I grab the cleanest pot I can find, pray there's a can opener, and get started.

"You sure that's not just Santa Claus and his reindeer getting a new look?" I crack. It's not really going to lighten the mood, but hey, gotta try something. Folks are looking for advice though, I can read that plainly on all their faces. My ears droop, but I keep on stirring the soup as the pot warms up. The smell of chicken mixes with the rest of the house and makes it just a little more palatable, at least if you're a meat eater.

Making soup is nice. Simple, just warm it up, make sure it cooks evenly and doesn't burn on the bottom. It helps me think. We just ran through the Hedge, we got all the way back to where we wanted, we got indoors in a blizzard, on Christmas Eve no less! I'm not one for all that fate BS, but there is such a thing as taking too long examining the teeth of your gift horse.

"Rickard, it's Christmas. We're indoors and safe on a night where it's snowing so hard that your tiger rider will be clawing your throat out before you figure out what direction to aim your gun. If you're hell-bent on doing your job, check all the entrances, make sure they're secure, and keep this house safe."

There, that ought to at least keep him busy until I can serve this out.

[Regaining 1 willpower for quiet soup-making introspection time.]

Elanorin

2016-06-09, 04:11 AM

Countertop, messy as anything, to the right, and a crockpot that has what looks like heavily congealed beef stroganoff in it. The entire thing might count as a solid now, and probably needs to be removed with a crowbar. There are Burger King wrappers and Bud Lite cans stuffed in the trash, along with eggshells and potato rinds and something that might be a rotten onion. Sink, too. Two cups stacked up in it.

Bethanne tried her best not to grimace at the congealed gloop in the crockpot which, even when it was fresh, would have made her take a step back. She carefully replaced the lid and cautiously walked away, as if it was a wild animal prone to pounce.

To the left, refrigerator (with a box full of eggs, fresh ones, straight from the hen, and chicken meat down in the meat drawer, and several six-packs of beer) and a pantry (with old soup cans, half-empty bags of pasta noodles, a bag for potatoes, a bag for onions, spices on a rack on the inside of the door). Enough to make a meal for you three, I think.

All this meat, the smell of it was killing even her ravenous hunger, but those eggs seemed promising and she nabbed a couple, together with some noodles and then went about scrubbing enough equipment utterly clean to make herself some egg fried noodles. She wasn't about to have fought through what she'd just faced just to catch some disease in this place.

"There is something out there," I manage. "A rider. A tiger. It's still out there." I swallow painfully and make my circuitous way to my feet. "We are not safe." My gun slips into my hand and I absently holster it again. "I can fight it."

"You sure that's not just Santa Claus and his reindeer getting a new look?" I crack.

Bethanne threw a quick look fox's way and a quick half smile. She appreciated the light comment in everything that was going on.

"Rickard, it's Christmas. We're indoors and safe on a night where it's snowing so hard that your tiger rider will be clawing your throat out before you figure out what direction to aim your gun. If you're hell-bent on doing your job, check all the entrances, make sure they're secure, and keep this house safe."

Bethanne watched the exchange from what she was doing. "Perhaps it's wise not to dismiss his instincts," she tried, feeling a slight urge to defend Rikard but didn't want to offend the fox. A tiger and a rider, it was hard not to let her thoughts go to those that hunt them. Could they be here? Could this house really keep them safe?

Thanqol

2016-06-09, 06:15 AM

Raz_Fox

2016-06-10, 01:02 AM

"There ain't a single thing I'd prefer than to kick up my heels right now," I said, and if you were looking at me you'd believe it. "But it was right behind me a minute ago and I got no cause to think I lost it. Excuse me, ma'am? You know anything about fellas with whips of lightning and flying tigers?"

"Ain't a tiger, as far as anyone can tell," Jackie says, coming back into the room half-hidden behind blankets and sweaters. These, she dumps on the dining room table in a haphazard heap. Fuzzy thick ones and big black ones and one huge comforter that looks like it was made out of two fully skinned bears. "I haven't been near that thing, myself, wouldn't catch me attracting the attention of a Huntsman." There's a capital-H that comes spilling out between her iron teeth. "Not the black wind, not Koschey neither, nor the Widow's Daughter, none of them ain't nothing to be trucked with if you like being back and home. Clockmen, those you can brawl and tussle with and have a chance of walking away, and somewhere around here I think I have one's arm I took away with me as a trophy from a scrap we had down on the south pasture."

She picks up one sweater- a hideous shade of green, the sort that's found nowhere in nature, not even in the deepest depths of the Amazon- and hands it to whoever's nearest. It's too big for her, but might fit our ace detective or Bethanne. Would probably swallow up little Ears whole in its cavernous depths. "But the black wind, I hear from Rider, who tried to fight her once, the black wind rides the meanest, nastiest lynx you ever did see. Hollow lightning sounding in its eyes and a growl like a hurricane rising. But this is my house."

She raises her voice, and the inside of her throat is too bright to be properly natural. "You hear that? This is my house! So get you going, and trouble someone else!"

The thunder-peal that follows is enough to make the crockpot on the counter dance a momentary jig on its supports.

"They have to play by their rules," she says, in the shocking silence of the after-percussion. "And everyone knows your house is where you bunker down for the storm. She'll be off by morning, I warrant you. It'll be a long night, sure enough, but as long as you don't open up holes in my house and draw down worse things than her, we'll be safe enough."

Elanorin

2016-06-13, 01:53 AM

"Ain't a tiger, as far as anyone can tell," Jackie says, coming back into the room half-hidden behind blankets and sweaters. These, she dumps on the dining room table in a haphazard heap. Fuzzy thick ones and big black ones and one huge comforter that looks like it was made out of two fully skinned bears. "I haven't been near that thing, myself, wouldn't catch me attracting the attention of a Huntsman." There's a capital-H that comes spilling out between her iron teeth. "Not the black wind, not Koschey neither, nor the Widow's Daughter, none of them ain't nothing to be trucked with if you like being back and home. Clockmen, those you can brawl and tussle with and have a chance of walking away, and somewhere around here I think I have one's arm I took away with me as a trophy from a scrap we had down on the south pasture."

She picks up one sweater- a hideous shade of green, the sort that's found nowhere in nature, not even in the deepest depths of the Amazon- and hands it to whoever's nearest. It's too big for her, but might fit our ace detective or Bethanne. Would probably swallow up little Ears whole in its cavernous depths. "But the black wind, I hear from Rider, who tried to fight her once, the black wind rides the meanest, nastiest lynx you ever did see. Hollow lightning sounding in its eyes and a growl like a hurricane rising. But this is my house."

She raises her voice, and the inside of her throat is too bright to be properly natural. "You hear that? This is my house! So get you going, and trouble someone else!"

The thunder-peal that follows is enough to make the crockpot on the counter dance a momentary jig on its supports.

"They have to play by their rules," she says, in the shocking silence of the after-percussion. "And everyone knows your house is where you bunker down for the storm. She'll be off by morning, I warrant you. It'll be a long night, sure enough, but as long as you don't open up holes in my house and draw down worse things than her, we'll be safe enough."

Bethanne snatched the acid green sweater, and a blanket too for good measure, and wrapped herself up good and proper and curled up with her eggy noodles as she listened.

At the end of the explanation, she thought for a moment, glancing up towards the raging thunder above, "so... that's a... Hunter? What does she hunt?"

Anarion

2016-06-13, 05:28 PM

"Well, there ya go." I serve out the soup and take a sip. Drinking something warm on my scratchy throat is like heaven. "So, how often does this sort of thing happen? Do we need to buckle in every night?"

Thanqol

2016-06-14, 01:52 AM

Raz_Fox

2016-06-15, 12:30 AM

Bethanne snatched the acid green sweater, and a blanket too for good measure, and wrapped herself up good and proper and curled up with her eggy noodles as she listened.

At the end of the explanation, she thought for a moment, glancing up towards the raging thunder above, "so... that's a... Hunter? What does she hunt?"

"You're in a house with four folk what came back from the place where nightmares come true," Jackie said, "And you have to wonder what they hunt? They hunt stragglers. Escapees. Children, when they can get them." Her smoker's gravelpit voice is awful calm when she says that. She roots through her shirt pockets until she finds a cigarette, lights it between her teeth.

"Well, there ya go." I serve out the soup and take a sip. Drinking something warm on my scratchy throat is like heaven. "So, how often does this sort of thing happen? Do we need to buckle in every night?"

Jackie shakes her head. "Course not. We'd kill them, wouldn't we?" She takes a long drag on the cigarette. "They're like, like sharks. Smelling the blood all out in the water. They move sharpish and hit hard as a truck, but they know that we'd figure out how to kill them if we knew when they were coming. Eventually. Least, that's how I see it. Some folk down in town would tell you it's their rules, but nuts to them."

A pen comes out, and so does a slightly damp notepad. "Huntsmen?" I ask sharply. "Who do they work for? Do they have any associates?"

"The people on the other side. Don't know what you mean by associates, but Mallory's in the same business. They get rich by pulling folk back." The candles all around flicker dangerously in no wind. "Least Mallory does. Don't know if the Huntsmen do it for money. Probably. Or maybe not. Who knows."

She shifts uncomfortably, looking at the three of you again as if for the first time. The look of someone having a spat between their conscience and their selfishness. "Look. The three of you, you're out new, right? Huntsman biting at your heels, trying to take you back before you've got your feet under you, and you come and bang on my door, and on Christmas Eve, too. Well, I'm not about to turn you out, but you need to know that I'm not part of the Court games or the Market politics or any of that, and don't drag it to my door. There are people who will tell you that you need to do as they say and there are people who are just out to get you, and the safest place is at home, where you don't have to listen to any of their lies and compromises and self-serving trash. That's what I have to say and I've said it."

She pauses for a moment, then blurts out as an addendum: "None of them. Not the three old men, not Jack, not Rachel, not Heath and certainly not the damn cold bitch out there watching from the woods, and not the goblins either. And you're welcome to take it or leave it, but don't come banging down my door to cry to me when they do you wrong. Go home and treat it well and don't let the hunters in. That's what I have to say. And I'll give you a ride into town tomorrow, my mother raised me right, but don't think I'm a vagrant's hostel. That's for the Freehold."

There's a look of what might be embarrassment for saying so much on her thick-jawed face, and she is awkwardly silent before blurting out, "And don't you go agreeing to anything at Market without being careful. They'll fleece you, they will."

Elanorin

2016-06-15, 04:32 PM

She shifts uncomfortably, looking at the three of you again as if for the first time. The look of someone having a spat between their conscience and their selfishness. "Look. The three of you, you're out new, right? Huntsman biting at your heels, trying to take you back before you've got your feet under you, and you come and bang on my door, and on Christmas Eve, too. Well, I'm not about to turn you out, but you need to know that I'm not part of the Court games or the Market politics or any of that, and don't drag it to my door. There are people who will tell you that you need to do as they say and there are people who are just out to get you, and the safest place is at home, where you don't have to listen to any of their lies and compromises and self-serving trash. That's what I have to say and I've said it."

"Home," Bethanne echoes and falls in to deep brooding thought, stirring her noodles absentmindedly in to interlacing swirls on her chipped plate. The word tasted soft and inviting, but foreign and distant. It was a long time since she last felt a claim to it. So long. Time had passed, both in her mind, in her nightmare and in her heart, but deep down, she had always held on to this tiny glimmer of hope that away from all the madness, the real world Waited, that it held its breath for her, in suspense for her return. Even as she run to beyond exhaustion, through the thorns with these strange... allies? She imagined that same summers day to await her as she burst through the undergrowth out on to open inviting golden fields basking in sunlight.

As one Christmas song followed after another, the tunes carrying from some other room in the house, it was as if the chill of the howling wind blew straight through the walls, through her blanket, fur, and straight to her heart, and she felt a sudden shiver that nearly had her jump in her seat. It wasn't July anymore. That much was clear, and only now did she allow her mind to let that truly sink in.

If it wasn't summer anymore... then just how much time had passed here?

She was almost certain she did not want to know, and so she stared down at her noodles that were now arranged in to some strange edible rendition of Starry Night, listening to the others talk, as long lost familiar faces played in her mind.

Anarion

2016-06-16, 01:40 PM

"That's a lot of names to keep straight." I raise the bowl and sip at my soup while I think. "Maybe too many, and folks selling other folks back to their keepers, that doesn't seem right. If there's one thing we all ought to have in common, it's trying to be free, yeah?" I down the rest of the bowl, trying to avoid slurping, but failing at it. I lick my lips, sharp canine teeth flashing in the dim light. The last time I had soup like this had been in a little diner, out in the backcountry when I was running. Sweetest little lady running the place. I'd been so sad when she started up one of those ticks that meant she was a robot and I'd been forced to bolt out the back door, hijack a truck, and get money by making the delivery of 500 boxes of bath soap listed on the cargo manifest. That had been a good one.

Gotta keep focused on the here and now. "So, all those names, some bad folks. How about the good ones? Suppose a guy wanted to stick around here, find someplace nice to live so that he doesn't have to freeload on generous and lovely ladies such as yourself, yeah? Who'd he want to talk to?"

Thanqol

2016-06-17, 07:01 PM

Kidnappers. Corruption. Enchantment. In Embrook? Did this place turn into something other than a sleepy small town when I was gone? Maybe. I'm starting to get the impression my experience wasn't a once-off.

"Who's in charge around here? Still the mayor, right?" I ask, though the reluctance in my voice maybe lets on that I'm not entirely sure if she wasn't about to say Dracula.

Raz_Fox

2016-06-17, 11:26 PM

Gotta keep focused on the here and now. "So, all those names, some bad folks. How about the good ones? Suppose a guy wanted to stick around here, find someplace nice to live so that he doesn't have to freeload on generous and lovely ladies such as yourself, yeah? Who'd he want to talk to?"

A bark of laughter, followed by the wind rattling loudly at the windows. Maybe too loudly. But the wailing dies away, and so too the sound of Jackie's laughter: loud, too loud, too big for the little room. Too bitter for Christmas Eve, too. I'm not the only one who heard that, right? The nasty tinge, the pain in the smile. "Depends. Want to live nice and easy and free? Pick two. Nice and easy, go down to the harbor and talk to Ashe's girl. Easy and free? Go find yourself someone's old flooded-out property and say it's yours now. Nice and free? Don't know no one who's managed it. Maybe when the King was around, but that's before my time. The proper one, mind you, not Jack down at the Firehall."

She takes a step back, pulls out one of the dining room chairs, takes a seat, leans back casual-like. Trying to put either you or her at ease, reassure everyone that she wasn't there to lecture at you three. "That said. That being said. I won't hear a thing against Jeremiah down at the museum. He'll point you lot straight, he will, if asked. But there's only two ways to live in Embrook if you've been back there: either you get involved in Politics," she stops to spit into the carpet, "Or you do as I do and stay out of it all. And the Politics is chains, just as sure as anything."

Kidnappers. Corruption. Enchantment. In Embrook? Did this place turn into something other than a sleepy small town when I was gone? Maybe. I'm starting to get the impression my experience wasn't a once-off.

"Who's in charge around here? Still the mayor, right?" I ask, though the reluctance in my voice maybe lets on that I'm not entirely sure if she wasn't about to say Dracula.

"In charge? Weeeeell," she says, drawing out the word, "If you are talking about city taxes and everything, it's still Do-nothing Dogwood, sure enough. Couldn't find his own ass if he had a map. If you're talking about the Politics, though, it's Jack and Miss Ashe. Jack- you might not know him- he owns some land south of town, runs a militia to make sure regular folk don't run into the Huntsmen and the Clockmen and anything else that comes crawling out from the thorns, and says that he's in charge of the other seasons. He speaks for summer. Miss Ashe says her uncle ain't dead, just gone, and she'll be in charge until he returns, thank you very kindly, and she speaks for autumn. The three old men won't throw their support one way or the other, seeing as one's an ass and the other's too gentrified, if you get my meaning, and the Other One doesn't do anything that doesn't benefit her, so they're stuck arguing over it. Jack's got final say for most everything that happens outside of town, though some places he don't dare to go, and Miss Ashe gets her way most often in town. You follow me?"

Anarion

2016-06-18, 02:06 AM

Elanorin

2016-06-18, 04:19 AM

Bethanne was gradually rising from her inner thoughts, slowly becoming aware of the conversation around her. There seemed to be a lot going on, she was overwhelmed by the amount of Enchantment that seemed to now saturate this place. Had it always been this way? Had she just utterly failed to notice? Or did it start after she left? How many others were taken? Anyone she knew? Bloody h- did they all assume her dead?

Did she have a grave?!

The voice of fox cut through before she descended in to another brooding episode and she threw a quick glance around and went about to finish her meal quietly. Just listening.

"Well, I'll want to take some notes, but sure, I follow." I smile a feral smile, all those canine teeth. "Seems to me, for keeping out of things, you know a lot of folks in town, and you know what they're about. That's good Politics, yeah?" I give it that little extra emphasis that she's been putting on there. Truth be told, I was already getting into it before I left and changeling or mortal or even Fae themselves, the fact of the matter is that you don't get what you want by standing around letting other people make decisions for you.

"Well, if Jeremiah comes highly recommended, I'll be sure to go pay him a visit when the weather lightens up tomorrow. Good cheer on Christmas Day, I'd hope. But if I'm being honest, I think I'd like to meet this other Jack. If he's half as competent as me, we'll get along great." I cough and the smile slips a little, and I see I'm out of soup. I take another bowlful from the pot and start working on that. "After a good night's sleep though. Beauty sleep is very important." I give a glance at Bethanne with that one, she's buried in her noodles, but I hope she catches in my voice who I'm thinking of when I say beauty.

Bethanne froze for a moment mid-chew as she felt the words direct themselves towards her. She even caught the glance in the corner of her eye and was for a couple of seconds utterly stunned. He spoke of going to sleep and looked to her.

Did... did he... just... make a move to sleep with her? Tonight?

She did not know where to put that and awkwardly just continued chewing her food, wishing there had been more of it on her plate to give her a longer lasting distraction. For anyone looking, there came a subtle pink to her cheeks.

Thanqol

2016-06-18, 09:04 PM

So there's context here that I'm not getting and rules in place that I don't understand. The Dame's talking like a warbly magpie explaining all the different local air currents, so used to a certain kind of context she's forgotten that the badger can't fly. At least the kid seems to be following along, I just feel kind of lost and wishin' I was back on the hunt. So I'm starting to tune out of specifics and instead just focus on eating something.

I do catch the kid making a pretty blatant pass at the lady, and I give him a bit of a disapproving glower. Ain't the time or the place - and you haven't even met her parents yet.

Raz_Fox

2016-06-20, 12:20 AM

"Well, I'll want to take some notes, but sure, I follow." I smile a feral smile, all those canine teeth. "Seems to me, for keeping out of things, you know a lot of folks in town, and you know what they're about. That's good Politics, yeah?" I give it that little extra emphasis that she's been putting on there. Truth be told, I was already getting into it before I left and changeling or mortal or even Fae themselves, the fact of the matter is that you don't get what you want by standing around letting other people make decisions for you.

"Didn't always," she admits. "Thought I could work with them. Didn't like their choice of friends. Still get lunch with Rider every now and then. She's good, for being sworn to summer. They're the ones with fire in them, you'll see. Like me." She laughs: the sound of an industrial machine backfiring. "Now it's just us Blackteeth and the candles. And you, for the night."

Outside, the storm is beginning to blunt. The wailing outside sounds less like the sound of a cat balancing itself on every raindrop and more like regular bad weather, leaving everything in its wake iced-over and so cold to touch that it'd leave burns on your hands if you went and grabbed it without gloves. Ever grabbed something so cold that it left your hands useless for the rest of the day, numb and then throbbing in pain?

I'll tell you a secret. The snowflakes have thorns on them. All of them do. It's just that microscopes don't know the right way of looking at them yet.

"Well, if Jeremiah comes highly recommended, I'll be sure to go pay him a visit when the weather lightens up tomorrow. Good cheer on Christmas Day, I'd hope. But if I'm being honest, I think I'd like to meet this other Jack. If he's half as competent as me, we'll get along great." I cough and the smile slips a little, and I see I'm out of soup. I take another bowlful from the pot and start working on that. "After a good night's sleep though. Beauty sleep is very important." I give a glance at Bethanne with that one, she's buried in her noodles, but I hope she catches in my voice who I'm thinking of when I say beauty.

Jackie opens her mouth to say something, and then thinks twice of it. Finally, she hooks her thumbs in her shirt pockets and says, "Well, living room's there. Couch, chairs, should be good for the night. Bathroom's next to my room, don't leave a mess." This profound pronouncement done, she pushes past you, Rikard, to get at the fridge again. Takes out a can of beer. Pauses for a moment. Takes out another. "Don't let anyone else in. That's trouble, and I don't want it. And merry Christmas, for what it's worth."

Anarion

2016-06-20, 12:52 AM

Well, that's as good a signal as any. I head over to the couch to lie down. I saw the disapproving looks, I'm not blind. So I'm not gonna force anything. The lady can sleep wherever she likes. I'm small though, and there's plenty of room on the couch. That's as far that goes from end.

Thanqol

2016-06-21, 08:06 AM

I grab a chair, turn it to face the door, and sit down in it with my gun in hand.

Sure, the lady says hunters follow the rules... but I was a hunter and I know that the rules will only last some people until it's more convenient to break 'em. And I don't reckon that I'm going to trust the life and livelihood of myself and all these others with being on the wrong side of convenient.

Sleep might creep up on me. Fever dreams along with it.

Elanorin

2016-06-21, 04:04 PM

Bethanne rises with the others and finds a large armchair that looks comfortable enough to pass out in. She throws a glance at each of her fellow refugees as they find their chosen resting spots. She's grateful for Rikard taking position by the door and watching him settle there relaxes her shoulders.

She contemplates pulling up a foot rest to her chosen armchair but seeing fox snuggle up on the large couch causes her to hesitate. It's with a tinge of something akin to guilt that she instead shoves the huge piece of furniture over to the other end of the sofa. She grabs every last spare item of knitwear/blankets/towels to pile over herself in a futile attempt to warm the chill in her bones.

The armchair is as comforting as it's comfortable, it holds her like a loyal embrace that asks for nothing. She listens to the breaths of the other two, how their rhythms differ and how they change as they each relax towards sleep.

It's with a deep shuddering sigh that she finally surrenders to the armchair, closes her eyes, and stretches her feet on to the sofa and falls asleep.

Raz_Fox

2016-06-22, 10:11 PM

Right. So. Christmas Eve. I have a present for you three, waiting here all wrapped up in an ivory bow. It's a choice. Yes, you! You get to choose, even if it's a choice buried down so deep that you don't even properly know that you're making it.

Two gates open up in your head. They're big, princely things, the sort that are all proper mythic. One of them is made of spiraling horns. Goat horns, deer's antlers, the long curvy sort that come from strange African animals, bull horns and jackalope horns and even stranger things than that. All of them are bleached and bound together into the frame by thorns, and through that door is slipping into the Hedge again, but only for a night. It's to be a fruit hanging on a tree somewhere, all curled up into its skin, the sound that your dreams make a quiet hum in the cold winter evernight on the other side of the mirror.

Taking this option means that your body will fade out from where it lies in Jackie's living room, but you'll regain a point of Willpower. And between you and me, I don't see a reason you shouldn't take it tonight. The monsters aren't over there tonight.

But if you're certain that you aren't going to let yourself slip through that gate and become the sort of thing that dreams are made of, then I guess you could go through this other gate here. It's made out of ivory, a dozen massive tusks carved into fluting pillars that converge like willow branches up at the apex. And that gate means that your body stays here, and you don't dream. Nothing goes through your head tonight. You are in the depths of the black pit that's somewhere in the back of your head, but you're here.

If you do that, then take no Willpower regain. But you'll know that your body and your soul are both in the right place, at least for the night.

This choice is one you've gotta make every time you lay your head down to rest, and you know that, somewhere deep down, just to the right of your heart. Good luck making the right one.

Oh, and Ears? Rikard? Go ahead and roll me Stamina+Resolve, and erase all but 2B from your sheets. Sickness ain't no fun at all. Miss Bethanne, you'll wake up fit as a fiddle, but ugly as sin- sorry about that, but at least you'll still have your health, and that's a good thing to keep.

Whatever gate you go through, whichever choice you made, you'll wake up on Christmas morning with the radio still crooning faintly in the corner, and three cans of beer waiting quiet on the table next to a heaping plateful of eggs, all salted and peppered and buttered. Jackie ain't got much, but she's got that for you, and don't look it in the mouth just because it don't have no bow on it.

Y'all ask her for a ride into town or are you planning to just hike on once you've had a chance to freshen up and get eggs in your belly? Go ahead and tell me what you do.

Anarion

2016-06-23, 02:19 AM

Thanqol

2016-06-23, 09:50 PM

Taking this option means that your body will fade out from where it lies in Jackie's living room, but you'll regain a point of Willpower. And between you and me, I don't see a reason you shouldn't take it tonight. The monsters aren't over there tonight.

But if you're certain that you aren't going to let yourself slip through that gate and become the sort of thing that dreams are made of, then I guess you could go through this other gate here. It's made out of ivory, a dozen massive tusks carved into fluting pillars that converge like willow branches up at the apex. And that gate means that your body stays here, and you don't dream. Nothing goes through your head tonight. You are in the depths of the black pit that's somewhere in the back of your head, but you're here.

Oh, and Ears? Rikard? Go ahead and roll me Stamina+Resolve, and erase all but 2B from your sheets. Sickness ain't no fun at all. Miss Bethanne, you'll wake up fit as a fiddle, but ugly as sin- sorry about that, but at least you'll still have your health, and that's a good thing to keep.

I'll take the dreams for willpower and the roll at 10,7,6,1,2 - 1 success.

Whatever gate you go through, whichever choice you made, you'll wake up on Christmas morning with the radio still crooning faintly in the corner, and three cans of beer waiting quiet on the table next to a heaping plateful of eggs, all salted and peppered and buttered. Jackie ain't got much, but she's got that for you, and don't look it in the mouth just because it don't have no bow on it.

Y'all ask her for a ride into town or are you planning to just hike on once you've had a chance to freshen up and get eggs in your belly? Go ahead and tell me what you do.

Well, I'm down to a shirt and tie so despite my first instinct being to take the hike I reckon I'll ask for either a ride in or a winter coat to borrow. "After that I reckon I'll meet up with my brother until I'm back on my feet and can..." I wave my hand like I'm trying to wave away years of chasing a demented serial killer all across the nation. "You know, get back on my feet."

Anarion

2016-06-24, 12:27 AM

Oh, yeah, I'd gladly take the ride. Forgot to mention that. I'd like to check the bank, there's an old account I'm guessing is not so old and still open, and then meet some of these folks, Jeremiah and Jack in particular.

Elanorin

2016-06-24, 03:45 AM

Right. So. Christmas Eve. I have a present for you three, waiting here all wrapped up in an ivory bow. It's a choice. Yes, you! You get to choose, even if it's a choice buried down so deep that you don't even properly know that you're making it.

Two gates open up in your head. They're big, princely things, the sort that are all proper mythic. One of them is made of spiraling horns. Goat horns, deer's antlers, the long curvy sort that come from strange African animals, bull horns and jackalope horns and even stranger things than that. All of them are bleached and bound together into the frame by thorns, and through that door is slipping into the Hedge again, but only for a night. It's to be a fruit hanging on a tree somewhere, all curled up into its skin, the sound that your dreams make a quiet hum in the cold winter evernight on the other side of the mirror.

Taking this option means that your body will fade out from where it lies in Jackie's living room, but you'll regain a point of Willpower. And between you and me, I don't see a reason you shouldn't take it tonight. The monsters aren't over there tonight.

But if you're certain that you aren't going to let yourself slip through that gate and become the sort of thing that dreams are made of, then I guess you could go through this other gate here. It's made out of ivory, a dozen massive tusks carved into fluting pillars that converge like willow branches up at the apex. And that gate means that your body stays here, and you don't dream. Nothing goes through your head tonight. You are in the depths of the black pit that's somewhere in the back of your head, but you're here.

If you do that, then take no Willpower regain. But you'll know that your body and your soul are both in the right place, at least for the night.

This choice is one you've gotta make every time you lay your head down to rest, and you know that, somewhere deep down, just to the right of your heart. Good luck making the right one.

Whatever gate you go through, whichever choice you made, you'll wake up on Christmas morning with the radio still crooning faintly in the corner, and three cans of beer waiting quiet on the table next to a heaping plateful of eggs, all salted and peppered and buttered. Jackie ain't got much, but she's got that for you, and don't look it in the mouth just because it don't have no bow on it.

Y'all ask her for a ride into town or are you planning to just hike on once you've had a chance to freshen up and get eggs in your belly? Go ahead and tell me what you do.

After going through the kind of ordeal that she just had, there was not even the slightest temptation to choose the Gate of Horns. She'd fought her way here and here is where she would remain. She did not falter for a moment as she chose the ivory gate, and she knew, this is the choice she would keep making. The terror of what might await in the alternative was just too cold.

After waking up, stretching stiff limbs, having eggs and generally tend to morning-type needs, Bethanne watched/listened to the other two make their plans. She still dreaded seeking out life in town, as much as she longed for it, there was an icy lining to her anticipation, the kind that creeps over your shoulders when you just Know you're about to be hurt, but not how, when or where.

Her eyes went from Rikard, to fox, back and forth.

"Can I come with you?" she asked, her voice dull and raspy again. She intentionally remained vague as to which of them she was addressing.

Anarion

2016-06-24, 04:14 AM

I look Bethanne over, her voice rasping. I wonder what she expects. Does she think that we'll all care what she looks like during the day instead of at night? I can't control every animal instinct I feel, I admit, but I met her during the "day" and she didn't endear herself to me because of her pretty smile or her nighttime curves. It was more the desperation and the sincerity.

I wonder if she'll be a summer. I'm leaning towards it, myself, but she strikes me as a winter, a girl who wants to find someplace safe and hide there. Assuming all the seasons even hold sway here. Maybe it's just eternal summer and fall.

"Yes. You'd be welcome company."

Raz_Fox

2016-06-26, 12:02 AM

I'm not afraid. That's dumb, I've been doing nothing but running for decades, fear is the primary motivating emotion. But I'm not afraid. I'm not afraid of what I am, I'm not afraid of what I can do. Not today, not here, not yet. So I'll go through the gate of bone, and send myself who knows where, and come back feeling better for it. I'm sure you meant a point though, since dots are the permanent thing.

I did indeed say a point, friend. Point's what I meant, too.

I'll be spending that shiny new willpower though.
[stamina+resolve+willpower=7. Are there any penalties on this roll? Just knock off from the right if needed. [roll0] 10 again is a 6, so I'll be mighty sad if there's a penalty.

Right. Mark that you got one success, and keep some kerchiefs near: you're going to need 5 successes to end the condition. And it wears out your body something fierce when you get in a fight, so try to avoid that.

Oh and lastly, Jack didn't take any damage. Did you want me to add 2B to him or just leave him as is?

You got a success during the night, so don't mark it.

I'll take the dreams for willpower and the roll at 10,7,6,1,2 - 1 success.

Same as Ears, mark that one success and hope you get better soon.

Well, I'm down to a shirt and tie so despite my first instinct being to take the hike I reckon I'll ask for either a ride in or a winter coat to borrow. "After that I reckon I'll meet up with my brother until I'm back on my feet and can..." I wave my hand like I'm trying to wave away years of chasing a demented serial killer all across the nation. "You know, get back on my feet."

So Jackie got herself up early, cooked breakfast, and then saw herself out to take care of her land. She gets back in just about when you are coming to the conclusion that you should get going. She's not bundled up too bad: snow jacket, practical boots, scarf thrown around her shoulders. The heat radiating off her probably helps curb that wintery bite, but the condensation on her skin makes her look like she's been walking through the rain both ways.

"If you're planning to get to town," she says, brushing herself off, "You might want to head out now. Sky's clear as a baby's eyes, and who knows when it'll start snowing again." The candles are still burning. Did they snuff out during the night? Not that any of you would know; two of you weren't even here, and one of you was dead as a corpse to the world. "Are the three of you from around here, or are you going to be headed off out of state?"

Anarion

2016-06-26, 01:19 AM

"I'm from around here, myself. Not too eager to see family just yet, though I'd like to find out what happened to me this side of the Hedge. But, I plan on sticking it out. This is where I came out, so this is the place I ought to be, right? And actually, can we stop at the bank first? There's something I want to check."

Thanqol

2016-06-26, 05:10 AM

I sneeze and spend a few unlovely moments looking around for a tissue. I miss a few words, which I regret. I hear the fox saying something about a different him and I give him a look like, what? "What about them Huntsmen?" I ask. "Strikes me as unlikely that they gave up the hunt so quick." I'm watching walls and windows and I don't buy this idea of safety. Heck, this place seems even less real to me than it did last night.

Elanorin

2016-06-26, 05:43 PM

"Yes. You'd be welcome company."

Bethanne smiled gratefully to fox. The lack of reply from Rikard spoke plain enough and she took the hint and stepped a step up to fox once she was ready to go.

"I'm from around here, myself. Not too eager to see family just yet, though I'd like to find out what happened to me this side of the Hedge.

I hear the fox saying something about a different him and I give him a look like, what?

The question was on Rikard's face but spoke itself with Bethanne's voice; "...what?" she asked, lost, and a little embarrassed for missing something she felt she ought to know.

Anarion

2016-06-27, 01:38 AM

The question was on Rikard's face but spoke itself with Bethanne's voice; "...what?" she asked, lost, and a little embarrassed for missing something she felt she ought to know.

I shrug sheepishly, I didn't mean to attract that much attention. "I just thought. Well, when the old man recruited me, he said my family wouldn't worry, and he deposited money in a bank account for me, and I don't know how long it's been, but probably a few years at least. Am I supposed to be dead? Or did they say I left, ran away maybe? Did he send someone to replace me? I want to know, and I'm gonna start with the account."

Elanorin

2016-06-27, 03:58 AM

I shrug sheepishly, I didn't mean to attract that much attention. "I just thought. Well, when the old man recruited me, he said my family wouldn't worry, and he deposited money in a bank account for me, and I don't know how long it's been, but probably a few years at least. Am I supposed to be dead? Or did they say I left, ran away maybe? Did he send someone to replace me? I want to know, and I'm gonna start with the account."

Those were the exact questions Bethanne was decidedly avoiding asking about herself. But helping fox find those answers about himself promised to be a good way of avoiding her own. Plus, helping was good, right? Helping, and not tearing his spine out with her teeth. Yes, helping.

"I see," she said, banishing thoughts of violence from her mind with a faint squirm. They were so graphic she half wondered if the others could sense them. "Sounds like a good place to start. Besides, sooner or later you'll need money," she commented, trying her level best to sound supportive, and went with him outside.

Raz_Fox

2016-06-27, 11:46 PM

I shrug sheepishly, I didn't mean to attract that much attention. "I just thought. Well, when the old man recruited me, he said my family wouldn't worry, and he deposited money in a bank account for me, and I don't know how long it's been, but probably a few years at least. Am I supposed to be dead? Or did they say I left, ran away maybe? Did he send someone to replace me? I want to know, and I'm gonna start with the account."

Jackie seems to be operating under the assumption that she's going to end up taking you into town, shuffling about and grabbing her keys, and wouldn't you know it, she chooses the wrong time to tune into the conversation that the three of you are having. She shoots you a look. The look that says that she's not only disappointed in you, but in herself, retroactively, for assuming she would not be disappointed in you.

"You got recruited?" She asks, her voice low. "How'd you say you left, again?"

Anarion

2016-06-28, 02:17 AM

Thanqol

2016-06-29, 12:23 AM

Jackie seems to be operating under the assumption that she's going to end up taking you into town, shuffling about and grabbing her keys, and wouldn't you know it, she chooses the wrong time to tune into the conversation that the three of you are having. She shoots you a look. The look that says that she's not only disappointed in you, but in herself, retroactively, for assuming she would not be disappointed in you.

"You got recruited?" She asks, her voice low. "How'd you say you left, again?"

I catch that look and it's interesting. My mind's still on the hunters and I make the connection - Jackie's been pretty sure in her walls and her understanding of the rules but she's worried about infiltrators. That must mean that the hunters have something worth bargaining for, or some way to control people. Is the fox one? I don't know. I don't know him well enough to say but I'm sure going to keep an eye on him now.

It feels refreshing, actually, to have something to watch for. I spent a long time on edge and was worried I was going to have a hard time adjusting back to the country, like uncle Gustav when he came back from Kosovo. But while Gustav wound up finding that the only person who had need for a killer's skills was himself on a job that'd set him for life I'm starting to suspect there's going to be a lot here to keep me busy.

Elanorin

2016-06-30, 02:47 AM

Raz_Fox

2016-07-02, 01:32 AM

The woman had done them great service by taking them in and sheltering them, and feeding them, for the night, but something in her tone when she asked fox how he left made the fur on the back of her neck rise and Bethanne shot the woman a suspicious look. The air tasted like there was an accusation in it but she could not see it and that fired up the protectiveness in her, she wasn't sure she'd have made it out if it weren't for these two.

"Why does it matter how he left?" she snapped.

"There's a difference between escaping and being let go," the response comes, sharp and solid as the jaws of a steel hunting trap closing on an animal's leg, "And between being let go and being sent out. Me, I clawed my way out. I burnt and I twisted and I tore my way free, all on my own hide. But some people, they come back, they smile, they say pretty words, and then when it's just you and them in a room they'll try to take you back. Because they didn't escape. They got let go like a dog off its leash, just waiting for the whistle."

She turns to you again, lil' Ears. "Watch your words. Weigh 'em. Know what you mean and what you say. There, I've said it, that's my advice for you. Can't help it. Don't go making trouble, don't go telling folk that you got paid to work for one of them back over there, and don't you bring Jack or Rachel down on my head for what I've given you. And don't you tell folk you've picked a side until you know damn well what the sides are. And- ah, if I keep going we'll be here all morning. Am I taking you lot to High Street or what?"

Regardless of the answer, she takes her keys and stumps her way through the lot of you, shooing you out of the house. Unless you've got some particular reason for making a stand- and as far as I can tell, you don't- that leaves the four of you outside on Christmas day.

Morning's nice. Cold. Sky's a startling robin's egg blue; not a cloud to be seen to the north, south, east, or even the west. The cold makes breath steam into momentary fog, leaving little thorn-prickles of frost on your lips, down your throat. Off to your left is the rise of the slope and what looks to be a pasture, all swaddled up in a pristine blanket of snow. Not a cat's paw to be seen, just the heavy icing-over bootprints where Jackie left snow melting in her wake.

(If you look close, you can see it pooling in her footsteps right now.)

She's got a 1988 Ford pick-up parked on the right side of the house with room for four, technically. Very technically. Bethanne, I'm sorry to say, but I have a feeling that you'll find it very cramped- and if you look inside there, peer in through the windows, you'll see that it's not exactly a particularly clean ride, either. The entire thing's an ashtray, and crumpled fast food wrappers and discarded gloves and wooden planks litter the back seats.

Still up for that ride into town?

Anarion

2016-07-02, 01:46 AM

My ears droop to my head, and my whiskers fall a little. "Look, I messed up, when I left, y'know? I didn't know anything and I thought I'd be in there forever. Don't know how old you think I am, but...no never mind, you're right. Don't do anything stupid, right? That's good advice." I let out a deep breath.

"I'd, yeah I'd still be greatful for a ride. I want to stop at the bank to see if there's any traces of me left, and then meet Jeremiah. I'd be very greatful if you could get me there."

Elanorin

2016-07-03, 08:31 AM

Anarion

2016-07-03, 08:37 AM

"He's no backstabbing spy," Bethanne declared to the woman as she stomped passed her. She wasn't sure why, but she felt compelled to say it plain and clear and out loud.

She peeked in to the car and had hesitated, but she knew fox wanted a ride, and she was decided to go with him.

"Uhm... after you," she muttered.

I'm tempted to say ladies first, but I don't want to start a three stooges routine here at the car door. I settle for jumping in (I'm small enough the truck practically swallows me up like a 5 year old), and then pat the seat next to me to beckon Bethanne to join.

Thanqol

2016-07-04, 12:02 AM

I like this car. It's got the sense of a machine that'd drive through a briar patch and be glad it killed something that day. Now, that said, that back seat was looking mighty cramped and I had to weigh up the forwardness of cramming in next to a girl.

It took a moment but I went and sat in the trailer. The decision troubled me, mostly because I couldn't tell if I would have made the same decision if it was after dark and Bethanne was full of moonlight. Was I only interested in a pretty face? Well, I'd have some time to contemplate that by myself sitting alone in the back.

Elanorin

2016-07-05, 04:11 AM

Bethanne did not like this car. It's not that it's clearly long past its heyday, even by her untrained eyes, but most importantly the shocking state it was being kept in. The feeling was new and surprising; she never thought of herself as a neat freak in any way but surely the state of this thing was shocking to anyone, right? Right? Holy f- was there green fur on that half eaten bit of whatever?!

She shifted uncomfortably in the seat, moving her feet away from the offending wrapper. She was feeling self conscious; her gratitude and desire to be polite was fighting tooth and nail with outright nausea. On top of it all she felt positively huge in this thing. Yet another feeling she was not used to feeling, and most who would look on her wouldn't be able to understand why. She did not enjoy it at all; she was completely trapped in this thing, and it would take far too little effort to end them in here. She'd barely have to get out of her seat, she realised, as brutal images of violence played out in her mind. Even Rikard, who sat demonstrably out back.

What was that about? Was she really that horrid in daylight? Perhaps it's worse here. Wait. Did she smell? Oh God, please, no. Bethanne took a slight sniff, as stealthily as she could. Well, yes, she needed a bath, more than ever before. But surely these were extenuating circumstances?! She'd done her best this morning but did he see the state of this woman's bathroom?

Jerk.

She squeezed her hands between her knees, closed her eyes and endured, edging away from fox, just in case she did smell worse than the truck. He had a fox nose after all.

Raz_Fox

2016-07-05, 03:45 PM

The car rumbles to life. There's a particular feeling associated with every car in the world, a small spark of something lurking just behind the engine, and this car has a soul like its owner: old, stubborn, and smelling like smoke. Jackie takes a moment, lights a cigarette, takes a long drag on it. She pointedly doesn't ask if this will bother anybody; her breath smells like exhaust fumes already, and the smell of the cigarette blends into the smell of her cinder eyes. At least the A/C is working, blowing slowly warming air into the vehicle. Then it's a shifting of gears and pulling back out onto the road, at speeds that are not very suited for heavy snow. The road's ice-slick and there's an awful moment of are-we-going-to-spin-out, before Jackie gets you all moving forward into town.

Rikard, there's an old plastic tarp in the back that's probably the least cold place to set yourself down. You've got the unenviable position of having to deal with the occasional sharp turn and the cold air whistling past you, but that's not what I'd like to focus on. What I'd like to point out is this: you didn't see someone standing by the fence as you were pulling out. At least, the second time you looked. First time, looked almost like there was someone watching you leave. Didn't catch more than a glimpse, though.

(Black beard, winter jacket, hand held over his eyes to cut down on the sun's glare on the snow.)

The road down into town (you're southbound now) is a winding one at best, and through the trees on your left the sight of the sea occasionally breaks through: cold and shining and made all of whorled glass until you look close and see the movement of the water. This is too far south for predominately pine trees, so you get bare branches, skeleton limbs where birds roost and watch you pass. Occasionally a car passes you on the way, and Jackie slows her vehicle enough to make sure that the both of you can squeeze past, only to accelerate after.

And then you're out of the trees and there's the sign of the Exxon station that's on the street corner of Green and Market, which (after ten minutes and two lights) will take you to High Street, and Embrook proper. Go ahead and let me know what's on your mind seeing that, seeing the old dilapidated stores on the north side of town, the chain-link fences caging in overgrown lawns, the sign for Embrook General Hospital coming up on your left, the bump of Market Street under the wheels, the convenience store that you, Ears, got kicked out of that one time, the Christmas lights on the front porch of the Mom and Pop Diner, the tinsel and the snow and the old washed-out building that I'm sure one or two of you remember as the best shoe store in fifty miles, now empty and barren.

Elanorin

2016-07-06, 01:59 AM

It was strange to see Embrook, in so many ways. Seeing it now somehow finally highlighted to her just how much had happened since she left. Not only had she been changed in ways that defied belief (indeed she didn't imagine anyone but fox and Rikard would ever be able to hear the truth without thinking her in need of some emergency psychiatric help), but seeing how time had clearly passed here somehow accentuated it, it finally made the nightmare... real.

She only now realised that she had held on to the hope that coming back here it would all just evaporate away like a bad dream upon waking. But it was still There, somehow even more than ever. She was suddenly even more aware of her beastly shape, even more so than her outward human one. Then they passed the sign declaring Embrook General Hospital and it stole a shaky sigh from between her teeth. She looked at her hands- no her paws, and their claws, how could she ever practice again? With these? Could she ever go back? The hospital had been her home more than her apartment ever had.

She tried to push it out of her mind, relieved that they were chasing after fox's past rather than hers. Her eyes watched the town pass by and it was only now that the thought occurred to her that it all looked so... run down. She remembered the storm, it had ruined so much, and when she disappeared the clearup was still under way. Surely it should all be back on its feet by now? Had they really lost that much?

Then, at last, the question spoke itself, before she could stop her mouth giving voice to it;

"What year is it?" she croaked softly, still staring out the window, her daytime rough voice was even coarser than before from barely contained emotions.

Anarion

2016-07-06, 10:38 AM

I suppose you're expecting me to get all nostalgic, right? Like, oh that's where I tried to shoplift like an idiot that one time, and that's where I tried to shoplift like someone who is not an idiot the other eight times, and even though is where my dad used to take me for icecream when I was just a wee fox kit that wasn't a fox kit, blah blah blah.

Nah. Look, there's a lot to take in here. Too much really. Scenery, real world scenery that you know is real and makes you realize all the old stuff was shifting like a dream even though you thought that was real at the time and then wondering if you're in some kind of double bluff by the boss as a new trick. And the old stores, I'm too busy trying to figure something out that's eating at me to really wax nostalgic. The timing is wrong. I knew things were bad before I'd left, I grew up in this town and not in the long ago past, but it's not putting itself together right. People should have left, or it should have gotten better. People don't sit on things like this for...well Bethanne's question rings out and I'm wondering that one myself. The timing just isn't right and I can tell it hasn't been that long. Not the 40 or more years I've been through, the 40 years of age without wisdom that I'm not willing to share with anyone because if they knew I was really pushing 60 they'd all look at me differently and I don't think I could handle pity right now.

And then there's the car itself, the extension of our lovely host, Jackie. Looks broken down, but everything works. I wonder about that, I don't think other folks are gonna be like that, not with Rickard, Mr. Crazy Gun Nut, sitting there, and the image of Bethanne ravaging the dog chasing me still shines in my head. Why'd she do that, and can she control herself now that she's back.

And then there's the closed shoe store, and I'd be sad but to be honest what I'm thinking right now is that there's an abandoned storefront that looks like it's been sitting for a while, I'm a fellow that just might have a bank account, and I could really use a place to set up shop.

Thanqol

2016-07-06, 08:27 PM

"Huh," I mutter, looking out at the economic desolation. "Guess they must have elected Bush."

It doesn't exactly cut home to me because I ain't looking at this place like home. I'll spare a thought about the poignant fleeting beauty of a decaying corner store after I finish scoping the corners for sabre tooth tigers. I can't bring myself to look at where the light used to be when there are so many shadows left to check.

Heck, I even got to keep an eye on the kid now. And look for someone with a beard. My gun's in my hand like it hates my pocket. I'll relax when I know it's safe and not before.

Raz_Fox

2016-07-07, 11:28 PM

Then, at last, the question spoke itself, before she could stop her mouth giving voice to it;

"What year is it?" she croaked softly, still staring out the window, her daytime rough voice was even coarser than before from barely contained emotions.

"2002," Jackie says, with what might almost be tenderness. "Hope you weren't gone long. Some people, they get it good, they come back soon. The rest of us just do what we can."

And then there's the closed shoe store, and I'd be sad but to be honest what I'm thinking right now is that there's an abandoned storefront that looks like it's been sitting for a while, I'm a fellow that just might have a bank account, and I could really use a place to set up shop.

Good thinking. Guess all that time with the old man must have taught you a few tricks or two, huh?

It doesn't exactly cut home to me because I ain't looking at this place like home. I'll spare a thought about the poignant fleeting beauty of a decaying corner store after I finish scoping the corners for sabre tooth tigers. I can't bring myself to look at where the light used to be when there are so many shadows left to check.

Heck, I even got to keep an eye on the kid now. And look for someone with a beard. My gun's in my hand like it hates my pocket. I'll relax when I know it's safe and not before.

Right, so. Ain't no saber-toothed tigers out and about this morning, no no no. Sky's clear enough, no mysterious shadows skulking down alleyways, nothing to fear. Nothing to fear.

Then why are the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end anyhow?

So. Bridge coming up. Big old one, been here longer than your grandparents, the space between Market Street and High Street. Underneath it rushes the Tamber towards the sea, all tumbling down rocks and butting up against the bridge supports. Once upon a time there were decorations on the bridge, but they've been gone longer than who knows. A bouquet of flowers hangs, forlorn, on the seaward side of the bridge, likely a memorial for a roadside accident.

Jackie's car gets on the bridge, and all the noise in the world stops. The sound of the car churning beneath you snaps to silence like a television being switched off. There's no sound of tire on gravel, no sound coming from the truck's A/C frantically trying to keep you two warm, just the sound of your hearts thumping in your chests and the sound of the river beneath you. Even you can hear it, Rikard- the sound of your body and the water, and nothing else.

Then she's over, quick as she was on, and noise comes creeping back out from all the little places where it was hiding. Jackie is blinking and glances over at you, Bethanne, for just a moment, as if to ask: did you do that, or did you notice that at all? Then she shrugs and keeps her eyes on the road.

She passes the toy shop, the World Coffee, the auto repair place, and then pulls up in front of First National. There's parking behind the building, like there is for most of the buildings on High Street, so it's an implicit request to get on out. First National itself looks just about the same: the same flyers in the windows, the same smiling woman on the advertisement letting you know the many advantages of relying on First National for all your credit services, the whole shebang. Shouldn't be too hard to go in and check on your money, yeah?

Yeah.

Elanorin

2016-07-11, 05:14 PM

"2002," Jackie says, with what might almost be tenderness. "Hope you weren't gone long. Some people, they get it good, they come back soon. The rest of us just do what we can."

8 years. Well, there it was. 8 years, that had been her sentence. It was at once far less than she felt had passed but at the same time far more than she was willing to concede. 8 years. Gone. Lost. 8 Christmases, 8 lots of birthdays, 8 Halloweens. They'd all come, and gone, and come again. Without her.

"Oh," she managed, and felt stupid. She didn't know what to say but in retrospect she felt certain that it was anything other than 'oh'.

She was grateful to see the bank. It offered distraction, and she took the offer gratefully. She in gracefully got out of the car and peered through one of the window.

"Christmas Day. Will it really be open?"

Anarion

2016-07-11, 06:45 PM

The silence. That was weird. Ears looks back at Jackie, shrugs. There's a lot of shrugging. Gets out of the car. 2002. He hadn't been gone long. 40 years had passed and he'd been gone, what, a couple maybe? Should have graduated from college now, not like that was going to happen. Still, 40 years gone. Was that disappointing? He'd sort of hoped he would get back and all the flying cars would be up and running, maybe a jetpack or two, maybe they'd at least have figured out cold fusion. Instead...nada. It's like none of it ever happened. Had it happened? Maybe he'd dreamed it all. Without even a memento beyond his long snout and sharp teeth, what could he say? Hi, I'm Fox Van Winkle would have been way cooler.

Bethanne was saying something. "Open? No, probably not, maybe they'll have one person though. But they don't need to be open, I just need an ATM to deal with my curiosity. And if somebody is here, well, we can go say hi, right? Tell them the story of Scrooge, the old man, not the duck, and if things go my way, buy them a candy cane."

Ears takes a look towards the bank and sees what there is to see. Is it open?

Raz_Fox

2016-07-11, 11:50 PM

It's called a "bank holiday" for a reason, after all- an excellent catch. The bank's windows are dark and dim, but the ATM sitting just outside is usable, obviously. I mean, if it weren't usable, there wouldn't be someone up there using it. Just a guy out on High Street with a buddy on Christmas morning, bundled up in a windbreaker that's too big for him, working the magic of the electronic commerce. A whirr, a hiss, and it spits out bills like an animal.

The man at the ATM collects his bills, one at a time, counting them carefully. If your arrival registered with him at all, he shows no sign. He slips out a shiny brown wallet, deposits the bills carefully in its folds, and returns the wallet to its home like a soldier holstering his gun. He turns, and notices you stepping out of the vehicle, Ears. The other man turns with him. And they're the same man.

Like, this is closer than familial resemblance. They're the same down to the slight five-o-clock shadow, the jaw, the way the right eye is slightly larger than the left. Same man, like a mirror reflected. And they're both looking at you without saying a word, staring very intently at you, Ears, and being very still while doing the staring.

Rikard, on the other side of the road, a man looks up from a shop window. He has slight five-o-clock shadow and is wearing a puffy winter jacket, and he looks up sharply, like a dog hearing an invisible whistle. He starts to cross the road, looking at Jackie's vehicle without bothering to disguise the direction that he's looking.

So. What do you do?

Anarion

2016-07-12, 12:10 AM

Remember Ears, you're not inside anymore. Not everyone is a robot or a hunter, or a robot hunter. Just because something is weird doesn't mean it wants to kill you or drag you kicking and screaming back there. Probably.

I wave a hand, friendly like. "Uh, howdy neighbor, you all done there?" I try to smile, like there's nothing wrong with this situation at all. Maybe there isn't, right?

Thanqol

2016-07-12, 02:43 AM

Right, so. Ain't no saber-toothed tigers out and about this morning, no no no. Sky's clear enough, no mysterious shadows skulking down alleyways, nothing to fear. Nothing to fear.

Then why are the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end anyhow?

I trust my neck hairs a lot more than I trust my lying eyes, thanks.

Jackie's car gets on the bridge, and all the noise in the world stops. The sound of the car churning beneath you snaps to silence like a television being switched off. There's no sound of tire on gravel, no sound coming from the truck's A/C frantically trying to keep you two warm, just the sound of your hearts thumping in your chests and the sound of the river beneath you. Even you can hear it, Rikard- the sound of your body and the water, and nothing else.

Always hated that damn bridge.

Like, this is closer than familial resemblance. They're the same down to the slight five-o-clock shadow, the jaw, the way the right eye is slightly larger than the left. Same man, like a mirror reflected. And they're both looking at you without saying a word, staring very intently at you, Ears, and being very still while doing the staring.

Rikard, on the other side of the road, a man looks up from a shop window. He has slight five-o-clock shadow and is wearing a puffy winter jacket, and he looks up sharply, like a dog hearing an invisible whistle. He starts to cross the road, looking at Jackie's vehicle without bothering to disguise the direction that he's looking.

So. What do you do?

Dealing with a team. Multiple suspects, context I ain't aware of. The twins have their eyes on the kid but this third guy looks like the muscle. I step down out of the truck, hand in my pocket - gun got into that pocket too, as it does - and face this guy coming at us down. No need to posture or chest-beat, just give him a look like whatever he does next better not be impulsive.

Elanorin

2016-07-12, 04:24 PM

"I always preferred the duck, to be honest," Bethanne commented, while still peering through the windows. She didn't move away from the window once she had determined that the bank was indeed closed. Bank Holidays were still the same even in the future, it seemed. It was both comforting and a little frustrating how such a mundane thing had remained unchanged.

She turned to watch fox address some people over by the ATM with lukewarm interest until she noticed how they seemed to stare at him. The fur at the back of her neck rose she watched but she remained still and silent.

Raz_Fox

2016-07-14, 11:39 PM

There's one of those long, slightly-too-long drawn-out silences. Jackie has her head down in the truck, fumbling for something in the small recess beneath the radio; it doesn't look like she's noticed whatever's going on here. There are two men staring you down, Ears, and one who stops when he's made it halfway across the street, looking at Rikard intensely. But even on Christmas morning, those sorts of silences can't last forever.

And just on the edge of hearing there's a sort of tick tick click tick tick click

The man in the puffy jacket puts his hands in the jacket pockets and glances up at the sun, which is backwards, right? You use your hands to cut down on the glare, everyone and their dog knows that. Then he sheepishly keeps crossing the street, angling himself that he'll walk past the car and Rikard and not end up right on top of you, like he'd originally been walking.

One of the two men staring you down, Ears, coughs. "Sorry. Sorry. Must have mistaken you for someone." He puts his hands in his pockets and starts walking away, a little stiffly, without any further conversational escape gambit. The other man offers a hand and says, "Do I know you? Name's on the tip of my tongue. Help me out here?"

The hand is offered and he is still standing between you and the ATM, and he is smiling. If you blinked a few times, the weirdness might go away. Sweep it all under the rug, just get your money, how's that sound?

Thanqol

2016-07-15, 12:16 AM

There's one of those long, slightly-too-long drawn-out silences. Jackie has her head down in the truck, fumbling for something in the small recess beneath the radio; it doesn't look like she's noticed whatever's going on here. There are two men staring you down, Ears, and one who stops when he's made it halfway across the street, looking at Rikard intensely. But even on Christmas morning, those sorts of silences can't last forever.

And just on the edge of hearing there's a sort of tick tick click tick tick click

The man in the puffy jacket puts his hands in the jacket pockets and glances up at the sun, which is backwards, right? You use your hands to cut down on the glare, everyone and their dog knows that. Then he sheepishly keeps crossing the street, angling himself that he'll walk past the car and Rikard and not end up right on top of you, like he'd originally been walking.

Freya! I almost shot the bastard when he shoved his hands in his pockets - the situation wasn't helped by the fact that my hands were currently holding a gun within my own pockets so my mind was on that topic already. I force myself to withdraw my hands from my pockets empty, take a bit of a steadying breath, remind myself that there are all sorts of rules about the use of deadly force - but keep my eyes out for whoever else is lurking about.

Anarion

2016-07-15, 12:51 AM

Elanorin

2016-07-15, 01:55 PM

I take the outstretched hand. Insanity, madness! Every little foxy instinct in my body says run. Flee. Hide. Do not trust, do not accept. And whatever you do, don't put yourself in someone else's physical power. Never, never, never never! I shake his hand. "Jack...name's Jack. And you are...?"

Bethanne's instincts were in partial agreement; she did not so much feel the inclination to flee, but certainly her instincts were joining the chorus on not to trust. Regardless she remained resolved to stay put, until fox reached out and took his hand. That very instant she stood away from the window and was immediately at his side, taking a foxy arm firmly in both hands and standing much closer than she ought to. Yes, she was very much playing the intimate other without saying so many words as she stared this other man down, making it very clear that fox had allies. She smiled politely, showing a little more teeth than necessary.

Raz_Fox

2016-07-18, 11:26 PM

"Nice to meet you, Jack." The man nods, approvingly. "I'll catch you later." The request for a name in kind, in turn, slides by the straightness of his teeth, the firmness of his grip. His eyes are sour things, not malevolent, but not right, either. "Sorry for the inconvenience. Happy Christmas." He pulls his hand away- perhaps just a bit too fast, perhaps looking to Bethanne's wicked smile- and starts down the street, his boots crunching on the thin layer of snow that covers the sidewalk.

A moment later, Jackie starts to pull away, her pickup sputtering as it kicks into life. If there was anything going on, she would have told you, right? Right. She's been nothing but helpful thus far, she wouldn't just throw you into a situation where you were in danger. No danger here.

There's oil dripping from the ATM, ever-so-slightly sliding down from the card slot. It hasn't been doing that for long, it looks like- the first few drops are still inching down the machine, sluggish in the cold, a noxious sort of black. But it's still usable, right? Right. Right. The man's walking down the sidewalk, and his friends are nowhere to be seen, though they were here just a moment ago, weren't they?

It's Christmas Morning and you have money to withdraw from a slightly suspicious ATM, a pick-up headed down the street, and several more mysteries opening up like a particularly complex flower.

Anarion

2016-07-19, 01:59 PM

Thanqol

2016-07-19, 09:10 PM

Anarion

2016-07-19, 09:49 PM

It's actually pretty relieving hearing that it wasn't just me being paranoid. "I think we interrupted a heist or something," I mutter, pointing at the oil on the machine. "Two guys working the screws, one guy on lookout."

"You think? I mean, those guys seemed pretty well dressed and they all looked kinda the same, you really think they needed to hit up an ATM for a few hundred bucks on Christmas day? That's either desperate or there's something special about this that would make it worth their while, y'know?"

Thanqol

2016-07-19, 10:13 PM

"You think? I mean, those guys seemed pretty well dressed and they all looked kinda the same, you really think they needed to hit up an ATM for a few hundred bucks on Christmas day? That's either desperate or there's something special about this that would make it worth their while, y'know?"

"Same question, why hit up an ATM on Christmas day? Are they going to take that cash down to the gas station?" I say. "Might be vagrants, drifting from town to town hitting machines when no one is watching -" investigate, corroborate, hunt, hunt them down and bring them to justice "- but I don't have any evidence yet."

Elanorin

2016-07-20, 01:45 AM

Well, withdrawing from an ATM isn't particularly exciting. Let's just say I get enough cash that we'll be comfortable having meals and making any purchases that will be needed for the next few days. I'm not about to buy a car or put a deposit down on that storefront (not yet, at any rate), but it's reassuring to know that I've got some money sitting there just earning interest when I need it.

I walk back over to Bethanne and Rikard, and let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. I ease my shoulders from the tension too. "So...uh, that was weird, right? Everyone thought that was weird, not just me?"

"Weird." Bethanne confirmed, keeping her stranger distance once more and hugged herself tightly in the cold.

"You think? I mean, those guys seemed pretty well dressed and they all looked kinda the same, you really think they needed to hit up an ATM for a few hundred bucks on Christmas day? That's either desperate or there's something special about this that would make it worth their while, y'know?"

"Same question, why hit up an ATM on Christmas day? Are they going to take that cash down to the gas station?" I say. "Might be vagrants, drifting from town to town hitting machines when no one is watching -" investigate, corroborate, hunt, hunt them down and bring them to justice "- but I don't have any evidence yet."

"Well they didn't try to kill us so they're still on my Christmas card list," Bethanne said, shivering, slowly walking on the spot to help the circulation to her feet. "If I had Christmas cards, that is... and it wasn't Christmas like... today..." she muttered, realising her choice of words had been stupid. She moved on. Fox had his money and that was the extent of the matters that had just transpired that mattered.

"You got your money? Could the next stop be something indoors-ish?" she asked, visibly shivering.

Anarion

2016-07-20, 11:42 AM

"Weird." Bethanne confirmed, keeping her stranger distance once more and hugged herself tightly in the cold.

"Well they didn't try to kill us so they're still on my Christmas card list," Bethanne said, shivering, slowly walking on the spot to help the circulation to her feet. "If I had Christmas cards, that is... and it wasn't Christmas like... today..." she muttered, realising her choice of words had been stupid. She moved on. Fox had his money and that was the extent of the matters that had just transpired that mattered.

"You got your money? Could the next stop be something indoors-ish?" she asked, visibly shivering.

Seeing her shivering, I move back closer to Bethanne, though I hesitate taking her arm in the way that she had taken mine earlier. "Sure, indoors sounds great. Why don't...why don't you pick the next stop, Bethanne? I'd like to visit, what was his name, Jerome I think, at some point, but there's no rush and he's probably not even around since it's Christmas day. So let's go where you want, next."

Elanorin

2016-07-21, 07:00 AM

Seeing her shivering, I move back closer to Bethanne, though I hesitate taking her arm in the way that she had taken mine earlier. "Sure, indoors sounds great. Why don't...why don't you pick the next stop, Bethanne? I'd like to visit, what was his name, Jerome I think, at some point, but there's no rush and he's probably not even around since it's Christmas day. So let's go where you want, next."

Where did she want to go? She wasn't so sure now that the choice had been given to her. There was a whole lot of places she didn't want to go. Home. The hospital. The cemetery. Anywhere near her old neighbourhood.

"Have you got enough for a hotel room? Hotels are still open, right? I think there was one up on Lincoln? I'd love a hot shower. We can all share and I-I'll pay you back." She needed some fresh clothes too and decided to keep her eyes open for an open launderette which might have some a basket of unclaimed items. Anything to get the smell of Arcadia out of her nose.

Anarion

2016-07-21, 01:29 PM

Where did she want to go? She wasn't so sure now that the choice had been given to her. There was a whole lot of places she didn't want to go. Home. The hospital. The cemetery. Anywhere near her old neighbourhood.

"Have you got enough for a hotel room? Hotels are still open, right? I think there was one up on Lincoln? I'd love a hot shower. We can all share and I-I'll pay you back." She needed some fresh clothes too and decided to keep her eyes open for an open launderette which might have some a basket of unclaimed items. Anything to get the smell of Arcadia out of her nose.

"Sure, the three of us can check in for a night. I can't afford to put us up permanently, but for a day of luxury, should be nice. Oh, maybe they have hot cider!" The thought of hot cider gets my ears twitching in excitement and if you didn't blink that might even have been a tail wag for just a moment there.

Thanqol

2016-07-21, 11:36 PM

They'd just gotten up and already they were talking about hotels? Hadn't there been an opportunity for a shower back at the farm? Rickard looks at this scene for a moment and wonders if there's some sexual subtext going on here. He must have missed something.

"I've got some things I need to sort out on my own," said Rickard, rubbing his chin a little. "I'll meet up with you later."

Would he have said that if it was night time? Would he even have thought that? It gnawed at him.

Elanorin

2016-07-22, 02:22 AM

"Sure, the three of us can check in for a night. I can't afford to put us up permanently, but for a day of luxury, should be nice. Oh, maybe they have hot cider!" The thought of hot cider gets my ears twitching in excitement and if you didn't blink that might even have been a tail wag for just a moment there.

A small smile came to her lips at the excitement and the enviable ability fox seemed to have to find silver lining to this whole situation.

They'd just gotten up and already they were talking about hotels? Hadn't there been an opportunity for a shower back at the farm? Rickard looks at this scene for a moment and wonders if there's some sexual subtext going on here. He must have missed something.

"I've got some things I need to sort out on my own," said Rickard, rubbing his chin a little. "I'll meet up with you later."

Would he have said that if it was night time? Would he even have thought that? It gnawed at him.

Her smile faded. Was he ditching them? Was it something she said?

"W-we can come with you. Hotel can wait," she offered, "sorry if it was a silly idea, I-I just don't know where to start," she said honestly, her eyes on Rickard, worried.

Don't leave. Please don't leave.

Anarion

2016-07-22, 03:35 PM

Thanqol

2016-07-23, 08:16 AM

Freya the girl could manage the waterworks. "Well, you can come if you want," I said, "but it ain't going to be particularly riveting or glamorous work." And I sort of emphasize that a bit because it's a bit embarrassing that I even know to do this, even though it is the season.

Anarion

2016-07-23, 12:39 PM

I give a little up down of the shoulders. Fine by me it says. Cider can wait and I don't need to splurge the whole bank account at once. I'm going where Bethanne leads. Because I asked her.

Elanorin

2016-07-24, 06:02 PM

I thought about saying something there, but seeing Bethanne's smile fade like that, I didn't think anything I said would be more effective. I moved up and took her arm, though, like she had with mine. Something about the way she was standing said she needed a little help keeping on her feet just then.

She felt foxy hands gently but supportively on her arm. Was it his way of silently agreeing with her? It felt like he was mirroring her own move minutes before, but the situation was so different; there was no threat here.

Freya the girl could manage the waterworks. "Well, you can come if you want," I said, "but it ain't going to be particularly riveting or glamorous work." And I sort of emphasize that a bit because it's a bit embarrassing that I even know to do this, even though it is the season.

The worry lines on her face melted away. "Sounds good. I'm not exactly set for glamour anyway, as you can see," she said, with a self-depreciating smile. She glanced to fox for his opinion,

I give a little up down of the shoulders. Fine by me it says. Cider can wait and I don't need to splurge the whole bank account at once. I'm going where Bethanne leads. Because I asked her.

and returned her gaze to Rickard and nodded, "it's decided. Lead the way." That small smile returned. They were still sticking together.

Thanqol

2016-07-24, 06:24 PM

Anarion

2016-07-26, 02:53 AM

So thing is, 'round Christmas time everyone gets feeling all charitable and dumps loads of clothes outside charity bins and Salvation Army stores.

My family, not exactly being financial masterminds, have long been in the habit of raiding these for Christmas gifts. Like a big ol' open air departmental store.

I'm here to pick through for a new suit - on account of having worn this one for what might be two years - and a few changes. Not glamorous but can't beat that price, and you find some weird and unique stuff. Someone should write a song about that.

I wrinkle my nose.

Where was the Salvation Army? I didn't want to hike halfway across town just to rummage through storage bins for things we didn't really need. Most of them probably just had coats or sweaters in them anyway, people gave out warm stuff to the homeless, not business suits with ties. If Rickard wanted a suit, he should get a job, he obviously knew how to be a detective. Not make us go around scrounging through the city. Hell, I might have bought him a suit if he'd asked (a cheap one, mind), I was just offering Bethanne a hotel room for goodness sake!

But I don't say all that out loud. I wrinkle my nose and I stay near to Bethanne (it's her call if I let go of her arm, I don't put much pressure, but if she wants me to stay where I am, I'll just walk right along with her). And I follow Rickard where he goes and hope that nobody is watching him steal from the poor and that he finds what he's looking for quickly so we don't have to rifle through 50 different barrels. So, like I was asking, where is the Salvation army and does Rickard really find all this stuff?

Raz_Fox

2016-07-28, 11:41 AM

The Salvation Army's about a fifteen-minute walk down High Street, and then another five minutes down Rush Lane, towards the bay, downhill along a sidewalk that's seen better days. It's about as cracked and all broken up as someone with a very, very bad case of unmoisturized skin. Someone's strung a line of small Christmas lights, like a winding vine budding bright little reds, blues and purples, all along the fencing on your left as you go, and then, squeezed between a barber's shop and a Kinko's, there's the Salvation Army.

Just between you and me, you're unlikely to find a nice suit jacket there, of all places. Wind's in the east, and it's telling me: beggar's market, beggar's market. But there are all sorts of knick-nacks and geegaws and cheap outgrown clothes in a place like that, so it's as good a place as any to canvas for some reinvention of your look.

There are three stray cats just lounging around the outside of the Salvation Army. They yawn disapprovingly as you approach.

Elanorin

2016-07-29, 03:00 AM

Bethanne gently patted fox's hand on her arm, gave him a warm smile and silent thank you and then gently encouraged his hand away before they all turned and left.

She silently watched the buildings they passed as they walked. Many were still familiar, but there was the odd change (or perhaps she just remembered wrong) and although the town looked almost ghostly quiet, it was clear it was at least trying to move on, albeit not very successfully.

She watched Rickard hunt for a suit and it only took her a couple of moments before she joined in. She had already planned to try to find new clothes and she didn't care much as to how. This was better than breaking in to a department store. She wasn't quite so picky as him, though, she just wanted some clean jeans and a jersey top that vaguely fitted and a warm coat. She rummaged for a bag of some kind too to keep a couple of changes of clothes in but could only find a Monsters Inc one with We scare because we care on it. Not ideal, but it would have to do. She filled it, shouldered it, and then went to pat the cats.

"Not a bad idea, this," she said to Rickard as she scratched a ginger cat behind the ear. It was oddly soothing. "Do you have any more ideas on where we start? I've been in rough spots before but never quite like this. I mean, should we make up new names? How do you build a false identity? Should we leave for somewhere we won't be recognised? You need a stack of paperwork to get a place to live, even just a cell, that's assuming we somehow get an income." She picked up the cat and held it close as she stroked it, it felt comforting and calming, likely it was the reason her voice didn't break with emotion as she spoke.

Anarion

2016-07-29, 03:23 PM

"Not a bad idea, this," she said to Rickard as she scratched a ginger cat behind the ear. It was oddly soothing. "Do you have any more ideas on where we start? I've been in rough spots before but never quite like this. I mean, should we make up new names? How do you build a false identity? Should we leave for somewhere we won't be recognised? You need a stack of paperwork to get a place to live, even just a cell, that's assuming we somehow get an income." She picked up the cat and held it close as she stroked it, it felt comforting and calming, likely it was the reason her voice didn't break with emotion as she spoke.

"I think we ought to talk to Jerome, myself." My squeaky voice carries over a little distance, bouncing off the clothes barrels like a marble rattling around the pavement. I haven't been willing to go up to the barrels, and if you didn't know better, you might think I was embarrassed to be seen with Bethanne and Rickard just now. I try to walk over closer to the cats and away from Rickard, make it less obvious. Distasteful, all of this. We could have just gone shopping, did they both think I was so stingy?

I shake my head, trying to clear out my own thoughts and pay attention to Bethanne. "I know that Jackie told us not to get involved, and I'm sure it's good advice, but that means there's something to get involved with. And that means other people like us, yeah? People who are established here, who've got plans and magic and all that stuff, right? And sure, they're gonna want something because pretty much everybody wants something and nobody believes that anybody else will just do something out of the goodness of their hearts." I shake my head again, my little ears bounce and flounce about and my whiskers bob as I try to get my thoughts in order. There's a whole bit of politics building up there, but I'm not going to get into it, I'm going to stay on point here. "So, fine, they want something and we want something: a place to live, a job to do, money in our pockets, a way to keep safe and...I dunno, we'll see, me, I'd like a fast new computer to start with and then maybe a workshop, but we'll have to see. If the stuff they want in return's no good, then we'll find some other way to make ends meet. But, I dunno, I'm just guessing here, but if there's folks that want good stuff for this little town, I'm not gonna fight them over it just cuz they're calling the shots."

Thanqol

2016-07-30, 07:13 PM

I find a green jumper and a blue necktie - they look a bit Ned Flanders but that's actually what I'm going for. Nonthreatening. People in this small town gossip and I want the gossip to be more along the lines of 'Oh, Rickard looks nice, where has he been?' than 'I saw a homeless man that looked like Rickard'. I do also pocket a set of designer sunglasses (people just throw those away) for when it's time for serious business.

A few more things in the bag - grandpa clothes mostly.

"A false identity's a big commitment," I say. "And they range from a fake license to a whole new legal person. What people get depends on what they want to use it for - is it a way to score beer and not be bothered, a way to hide and never be found, or a stepping stone to getting your real identity back? You prepared to duck and lie to everyone you've ever known?"

I straighten the necktie. "I ain't."

Elanorin

2016-07-31, 04:51 AM

Bethanne listened to the two of them quietly, stroking what was now two cats. They clearly needed a bath (who didn't) but she didn't feel she could hold that against the poor things. They were really quite affectionate the way only cats who are in the process of claiming ownership can be.

There was wisdom in fox's words. If there were others like them here then speaking to them must be the best place to start, if others had done this then they would have good advice on how to get on your feet. Provided they could be trusted, which the slightly unsettling woman from last night seemed to say they couldn't be. Now there was a pickle.

Bethanne tried to hide the fact that something Rickard said, or perhaps just his tone, made her shrink a little. She kept her eyes on the cats to deflect attention but in truth she felt admonished. She didn't want him to leave but she felt he was holding that against her. He just seemed so... confident. And that confidence was just a little too easy to want to hide behind. He seemed so ready to just charge in and tackle everything head on. She really didn't know if she could do that; face questions about where she'd been, why she now looked like she some kind of hideous creature. It was different for him, look at him.

"Talking to this Jerome does seem to be a good place to start. If there are others like us there might be some useful advice there. We should probably at least hear what he has to say, if anything," she conceded, still patting the cats thoughtfully before looking up at fox, "but I think I'd rather go tonight. If that's alright?"

Thanqol

2016-08-01, 11:32 PM

Anarion

2016-08-02, 04:03 AM

"Tonight is so far away though." My ears droop even though I try to put on a good face. I really wanted to get my bearings as soon as possible. I mean, yes, we could have checked into a hotel and I'm fine indulging, but wandering around the city the way that Rickard is doing here is dangerous. "Jackie lives outside of town and she keeps quiet. But we're not going to, isn't that right?" I give Rickard a pointed glance. "We can't just run around town and not expect to get any attention, even on Christmas day. If there's politics and you run around blind, you just wind up stumbling into something without knowing where everybody's lined up. We should go see the one person we've been told won't steer us wrong or else keep our heads down until we do it later."

Bethanne, I'm sure that what worries you is the fact that you don't look the way you want to look right now, but I promise you that Ears hasn't a clue what's eating you here.

Elanorin

2016-08-03, 05:22 AM

"Tonight is fine by me," I said. "But I've got what I need here."

I leave the moment open in case anyone wants to suggest anything but even now I'm not thinking in terms of hanging out and relaxing. There are too many potential threats in this town for me to rest easy.

"Tonight is so far away though." My ears droop even though I try to put on a good face. I really wanted to get my bearings as soon as possible. I mean, yes, we could have checked into a hotel and I'm fine indulging, but wandering around the city the way that Rickard is doing here is dangerous. "Jackie lives outside of town and she keeps quiet. But we're not going to, isn't that right?" I give Rickard a pointed glance. "We can't just run around town and not expect to get any attention, even on Christmas day. If there's politics and you run around blind, you just wind up stumbling into something without knowing where everybody's lined up. We should go see the one person we've been told won't steer us wrong or else keep our heads down until we do it later."

Bethanne, I'm sure that what worries you is the fact that you don't look the way you want to look right now, but I promise you that Ears hasn't a clue what's eating you here.

Seemed clear enough, if only because Rickard seems to understand my worries perfectly.

"Isn't there some quiet information gathering we can do in the meantime on our own? Maybe sneak in to the public library - it's hardly Fort Knox, and it has computers, last I looked. We could do some searches, check the public records too, if nothing else," she suggested.

Thanqol

2016-08-03, 09:44 PM

Anarion

2016-08-04, 12:09 AM

"If you want to talk politics, how's about not barging into the local bigshot's Christmas lunch and giving him three new problems? What if he's with his kids? That the kind of first impression you want?" I said abruptly.

"No, no I guess not. Where's that leave us? Christmas Day at the library? They'll think we're homeless, if they're even there. Every shop's liable to be closed today. We're from a small town, there's no emergency coffee shop for the corporate suits to get their work done, no big city food joint that's open past midnight."

I don't know why, but this really has me despairing. I feel alone out here and the two lost souls with me don't help. There's nowhere to go, nothing to do, just hours and hours to burn while we hope that sitting on the street doesn't leave us exposed to evil lightning tiger Santa Claus. I put my head in my hands and just stand there. I don't know what to do.

Thanqol

2016-08-04, 12:34 AM

"No, no I guess not. Where's that leave us? Christmas Day at the library? They'll think we're homeless, if they're even there. Every shop's liable to be closed today. We're from a small town, there's no emergency coffee shop for the corporate suits to get their work done, no big city food joint that's open past midnight."

I don't know why, but this really has me despairing. I feel alone out here and the two lost souls with me don't help. There's nowhere to go, nothing to do, just hours and hours to burn while we hope that sitting on the street doesn't leave us exposed to evil lightning tiger Santa Claus. I put my head in my hands and just stand there. I don't know what to do.

"If only there was some sort of institution dedicated to helping the desperate that was guaranteed to be open on Christmas...?" I say to the kid, letting my fingers tap the large cross on the salvation army bin.

I don't have a huge amount of sympathy for the kid. It's getting ever more plain that he's never been broke on Christmas before. Emergency coffee shop!? Well, la-de-da Mr. Moneybags!

Elanorin

2016-08-06, 03:51 AM

"No, no I guess not. Where's that leave us? Christmas Day at the library? They'll think we're homeless, if they're even there. Every shop's liable to be closed today. We're from a small town, there's no emergency coffee shop for the corporate suits to get their work done, no big city food joint that's open past midnight."

"I wasn't expecting the library to be open," Bethanne clarified. "But how hard can it be to sneak in to? It's the public library of a tiny sleepy town. Not exactly the private residence of Tony Stark." In truth she was very much preferring the thought of breaking in to an empty library than to use it when it was open and populated with pensioners and women with babies.

"If only there was some sort of institution dedicated to helping the desperate that was guaranteed to be open on Christmas...?" I say to the kid, letting my fingers tap the large cross on the salvation army bin.

"Good idea for a meal," she conceded, although it would probably be packed full of people,which was less than appealing.

"So, no takers for the library then?"

Anarion

2016-08-06, 07:59 PM

"If only there was some sort of institution dedicated to helping the desperate that was guaranteed to be open on Christmas...?" I say to the kid, letting my fingers tap the large cross on the salvation army bin.

I don't have a huge amount of sympathy for the kid. It's getting ever more plain that he's never been broke on Christmas before. Emergency coffee shop!? Well, la-de-da Mr. Moneybags!

Sometimes there are things that just don't occur to you. Jack had never hidden in a church or sought sanctuary. He wasn't sure he believed in any god.

"I wasn't expecting the library to be open," Bethanne clarified. "But how hard can it be to sneak in to? It's the public library of a tiny sleepy town. Not exactly the private residence of Tony Stark." In truth she was very much preferring the thought of breaking in to an empty library than to use it when it was open and populated with pensioners and women with babies.

"Good idea for a meal," she conceded, although it would probably be packed full of people,which was less than appealing.

"So, no takers for the library then?"

"I dunno. I'm not gonna tie break, I don't care which one we do. You two decide."

Thanqol

2016-08-07, 06:51 PM

"Well, I've just had breakfast so I ain't got no objections to the library," I say.

Raz_Fox

2016-08-10, 12:15 AM

Library's got a skeleton crew today. And, from the looks of them, all human, so no need to worry about that. I mean, what with one thing and another, I'm sure you all might have started to think that there weren't no one normal left in all the world. Between Jackie, the ATM men, and the hideous acne of the young man who manned the counter at the Salvation Army, the world hasn't been throwing you much normality. So when you step into the library, that low one-story building which is all shelves and side rooms, lit with orange-yellow lamps (city budget still don't cover putting in a new lighting system, see, so they're relying on one that was put in back when your grandparents were kids), it's probably mighty comforting to see that Becky Brown's sitting at the circulations desk with her nose in a book, not paying much attention to anything at all, which most likely means that her boss, Popeman, is rooting around the back dealing with whatever arcane processes are needed to keep a library running smoothly. Oh, and there, to your left, there's Joshua Peterson and Matt Bronny, playing checkers underneath lamplight. Rain or shine, Joshua and Matt'll be here, like clockwork, for their game. Ordinary, very human, not magic at all, people.

Young Miss Brown's all too happy to answer the basic questions: over there's The Computer (a big, bulky thing that probably makes Ears cry just to look at the grease stains on the monitor) and, um, like, the news has been fine, she guesses, not much going on in the world other than The War In Iraq and the President putting his foot in his mouth again, oh, and her mom's going to be having a combined Christmas dinner for the Browns and the Heaths, since Danny's been not-very-okay lately. Like, not criminal not-very-okay, like not-feeling-okay not-very-okay, you get her? She's not suggesting for a minute that Danny would ever, you know, do stuff like that, it's not Christian to bring up what people might have do ne back when, you know?

For such a small library, it's easy to get a little turned around in the stacks. A lot of the signs that once proudly declared what was where have faded and rusted over, and all the lights look the same. But there's no extra space, heavens, no. Pretty sure, at least.

I'm sure we can assume that you'll know the basics after some not-very-suspicious Google searches. What happened last year, what's been going on since you left, what's in style now, what your name means to the world. All that jazz.

See, it's what happens after that's interesting. Library door opens, two people come stamping in, huffing and puffing and dusting snow off their big, bulky jackets: looks like you've spent long enough in this windowless place that the weather's started to turn a little more towards the letting-things-come-down. There are two of them, as I said: one is tall and one is small. One is a slouching-and-still-six-foot built-like-a-linebacker fellow with a big old ram's horn curling out from one side of his head, just on the one side, mind you. He's doing his very best to be still and not bump into anything. The other one is swallowed up by an ill-advised beanie and an equally ill-advised puffy snow coat, and sprints into the stacks just as soon as half the snow on that coat has been knocked to the floor, leaving the first one- the big one- to shuffle after, waving a little awkwardly at Joshua and Matt. Doesn't look like he's noticed you lot yet.

Go ahead and tell me what you do, or if there's anything else what needs saying.

Thanqol

2016-08-10, 01:17 AM

It's only after I manage to not blow the gentleman away on account of him bursting into the room and then making a sudden movement that I start to wonder if I've got a problem. On the one hand, it was probably a bit of an overreaction, on the other hand he just accelerated to combat velocity in a library and I have some past experience with that kind of thing. But knowing what I know, is that really an instinct I want to go soft?

But even so, these folks look mighty suspicious, and I don't know 'em. So I come in towards the small one from an angle which keeps the big one in my field of view and open my mouth to introduce myself - but instead I find myself just ominously pointing at the sign which says 'Quiet' and then raising my finger to my lips while my hand clenches a death grip on the revolver in my pocket.

It's... well, it's a library. Why should I be polite when this joker doesn't play by the rules?

[Vice: By the book, prioritizing enforcement of the library rules above being friendly to supernatural strangers]

Anarion

2016-08-10, 01:57 PM

I am on the verge of tears at getting back on the Internet. The world is alive and well. Napster, eh, not so much, but they dug their own grave and just like I'd thought, hundreds of sites popped up faster than The Man could take 'em down. Information wants to be free. I posted a couple messages, asked for anyone local, said I was interested in setting up a workshop commune, was anybody interested in using it?

So engrossed am I that when Tall and Small come in, I'm busy hunched over the computer screen, ears perked up, eyes glinting, fingers typing away. I look up though when Small starts his little race and I'm signing out of IRC and getting up when I see Rickard's hand back on what I'm guessing is that gun of his. Me, I'm going to follow Small, see just what the fellow is running towards. I'll say "hi" though, give him a little wave soon as I can get his attention.

Elanorin

2016-08-12, 02:37 AM

It was Bethanne's ears turn to droop when she realised that getting in to the library would not involve minor breaking and entering. She'd really hoped this place would have been empty.

She slumped together, trying to make herself seem as unremarkable and forgettable as possible as they came inside and she hovered behind fox as he sat down at the computer. She watched him with mild confusion; she had no idea what half of what he was doing even was. Her internet use amounted to little more than search engines and e-mail. Fox however, he seemed like he navigated better with a keyboard than he did with his own feet. She smiled, giving herself a mental pat on the back for suggesting the library.

It was more Rickard's sudden reaction that caused her to look up than her noticing the two figures entering. She followed his gaze and briefly studied the two, her attention gravitating more towards the big one but she was disinclined to act, even more so as she noticed her two new allies doing so. No need for her to barge in and put her big paws where they're not wanted.

Instead she slumped down in to fox's vacated seat, it was still warm and the feeling made her want to smile. She'd almost forgotten what that felt like, warm. She absentmindedly typed in some queries of her own while she kept glancing up over the screen at the big creature. Was it bigger than her? Hm. Could she take it? Of course she could.

For once that notion filled her with a strange feeling of pride rather than shame and she wasn't quite sure what to do with that.

Raz_Fox

2016-08-13, 11:58 PM

Sending out a flare, eh, Ears? Asking the world if there's anybody else who feels like you do, who sees too many walls set up all over the world: invisible walls, all dreamstuff thorns and brambles asking you to stay in the proper lane, please, and don't you wander too far off the road. Between you and me, I wonder what you think of the detective: you haven't seen too much of him yet, but I think there's an iron in him that won't let him cross those lines, wander over those walls.

Anyway. You sure you want to follow Small into the stacks? Small is moving fast and the stacks are... well, not designed for easy navigation. You could get in after him, but you'd be a hop and a skip away from the eyesight of everyone else. I mean, you could just ask Tall here, who'd be easy to step in front of, what exactly's going on- but you, Rikard, you wanted to enforce that rule, didn't you? Better make a choice about it quicklike.

Anarion

2016-08-14, 12:25 AM

I'm after Small, sure as sure can be. Call it a kinship. Little Ears going after little Small. It's where I ought to be, or that's how I feel at any rate.

Thanqol

2016-08-14, 05:26 PM

Anyway. You sure you want to follow Small into the stacks? Small is moving fast and the stacks are... well, not designed for easy navigation. You could get in after him, but you'd be a hop and a skip away from the eyesight of everyone else. I mean, you could just ask Tall here, who'd be easy to step in front of, what exactly's going on- but you, Rikard, you wanted to enforce that rule, didn't you? Better make a choice about it quicklike.

I'm after the small one, if only to shush him, just like I said.

Raz_Fox

2016-08-14, 05:52 PM

So. The two of you, you corner Small in the hobby section, which is two right turns away from eyeshot of anybody else. And I do mean corner, since the shelf is flush up against a dark wooden wall. Small's fingers brush against the spines of books, and mumbling comes from the space between beanie and coat. Small turns to look at you once the two of you fill the space between the shelf and the exit, and bares fangs.

Fangs. Yep. Short, inhuman-looking fangs. "What the two of you want," Small says. Small is... well, you could make a case for Small being a young and shaven man or a particularly strong-cheeked woman, and the voice isn't helping matters, being at that nexus point between the sexes. Besides, it's rude to make assumptions about people based on the way they look, anyhow. So we'll use "them" for now.

They look you up and down. "Ain't seen you around before. Who sent you? What's your angle?"

You can hear shuffling behind you; Tall is probably on his way over. Probably.

Bethanne, you can see Tall stop in front of the stacks, sigh, and then trudge on in. You want to follow after, or is that seat cozy and warm enough for your tastes?

Thanqol

2016-08-14, 06:25 PM

So. The two of you, you corner Small in the hobby section, which is two right turns away from eyeshot of anybody else. And I do mean corner, since the shelf is flush up against a dark wooden wall. Small's fingers brush against the spines of books, and mumbling comes from the space between beanie and coat. Small turns to look at you once the two of you fill the space between the shelf and the exit, and bares fangs.

Fangs. Yep. Short, inhuman-looking fangs. "What the two of you want," Small says. Small is... well, you could make a case for Small being a young and shaven man or a particularly strong-cheeked woman, and the voice isn't helping matters, being at that nexus point between the sexes. Besides, it's rude to make assumptions about people based on the way they look, anyhow. So we'll use "them" for now.

They look you up and down. "Ain't seen you around before. Who sent you? What's your angle?"

"No running in the library, kid," I say. "Show some respect."

Sometimes it's that simple.

Anarion

2016-08-14, 07:03 PM

"No running in the library, kid," I say. "Show some respect."

Sometimes it's that simple.

I shrug, look at the cop, shrug again, look back at Small. "Lookin to meet new people, I guess, make sure this fellow..." I do a thumb gesture at Rickard, "doesn't get too angry for no reason. S'about it."

Raz_Fox

2016-08-14, 07:24 PM

The warning from Mr. Black-and-White over here goes right through one of Small's ears and out the other. You can see the brief flash of consideration and then rejection that flies through their mind. Respect? What the fresh Sam Hill is that?

So Small turns their attention instead to you, Ears. "New people. Not from around here? Just got back? Made any affiliations, and are you free this evening if so? I might just have a thing for you. A big thing. Food is involved. Free food. Interested?" Small waits a moment for a response, but then turns away from the two of you and starts rummaging for a book, something twitching underneath his beanie in your general direction.

Anarion

2016-08-14, 08:29 PM

Elanorin

2016-08-15, 06:28 AM

Bethanne, you can see Tall stop in front of the stacks, sigh, and then trudge on in. You want to follow after, or is that seat cozy and warm enough for your tastes?

Bethanne mirrored the sigh with one of her own, the President would just have to wait a minute or two. She grabbed a book, any book, the nearest book, and dashed after Tall to intercept and cut off, thrust the book at them with a vague attempt at a helpful smile (that she had a sneaky feeling came out looking goofy if not outright frightening).

"Here. You dropped this," she said in her very best you-can-thank-me-now-but-I-will-pretend-it-was-no-effort voice.

Raz_Fox

2016-08-17, 11:45 PM

Small smiles, slides a Jumbo Book of Songs for All Occasions out of the shelves, grunts a little at the weight. "Eddie, come over here and- dammit, Eddie. Here, black-and-white, you take this one." They shove the book expectantly in your general direction, Rikard, and keep talking. "We're members of the local governing body, Eddie and me: the Friends of Fire. Heard of us? From the innocent-as-soap looks on your faces, gonna guess not. 's okay. Can't be expected to know everything. How long you been back?"

They don't wait for an answer. "Life being back here, it's tough, right? Especially for those of us who, for one reason or another, can't go home, it's a whole thing. Makes Christmas dinner a real bummer for a lot of people, knowing who they should be with. Soooooo the High King of Embrook opens up our doors for anybody who needs a real turkey dinner tonight. Potluck, technically, but if you're out of a kitchen, just show up and give us a bit of somethin-somethin, the good black magic," they say, rubbing two fingers and a thumb together. "Adds flavor to food, you know. You ain't had turkey til you've had it soaked and broiled in righteous wrath."

They pull another songbook from the shelf, then look back over at you. "Interested? Knew you would be. It's good company, singing, good way to get to know how things work around here. Yeah? Yeah. Just... y'know, don't tell Brightman I invited you. It's a whole thing. Play dumb."

So, Bethanne, you're holding this book out to Tall, and I'm pretty sure you surprised him, you know, with your whole face thing, because he swings around- and he's got that sort of coordination where his head's the first thing that gets where he wants to be and the rest of his body just follows sheepishly after- and says "Oh fudge," much louder than is appropriate for a library, and three heads turn to look at the two of you, and generally it's just really awkward, especially when he realizes that he's got his fists up to defend himself against you, and here you are holding a book out to him, and he really did yell fudge.

Becky Brown points to the big QUIET sign near the front, and then goes back to reading her book. She already came in on Christmas day to make sure that this pillar of the community was open, that's already more than enough work for her.

"Awww, geez, did, did I knock that over?" His voice is like a knife dragged across wet paving stone, a hoarse rattle that belongs in children's nightmares. "Or... wait, was, was I carrying this book? Hey, was I carrying this and then, then dropped it? I, uh, sorry, uh, here, I, I guess this, um, I must have been holding this book for, for reason. Do you know... um, I understand if you don't, but, well, do, do you know why I was carrying... Ass-mov? Asmoff? How do you say this?" His heavy off-white brow furrows, and it strikes you that the texture of his skin is remarkably craggy and pitted, like concrete, or old weathered stone. "Um, this, uh, Short History of Biology by the Ass... by this guy, this Isaac guy, I mean, I, I know you wouldn't really, just wondering, must have slipped my, you know, oh sugar, Nat's gonna be ticked I'm dropping her book, sorry, sorry, thank you, uh... s-sir? Thank you, lots, sorry to make, um, scene, like this. Like. Yeah. Sorry."

He holds the book close to his chest, without a trace of irony or deception, as he thanks you for picking up his book. You know, the book you picked up off a shelf next to the computers, the one that had come nowhere near him until you told him he'd dropped it.

Anarion

2016-08-18, 01:49 AM

"Sounds good. Will you be there tonight, uh...Eddie's the other guy, so you would be? I'm Jack by the by" I hold it out my hand for a shake between him shuffling books. Rickard, you're on your own as far as handling the heavy stuff, I'm barely clearing Small's head height here, so I'm no good to you on that front, of course.

Elanorin

2016-08-18, 08:23 AM

Bethanne's smile falters a little as guilt prickles at the back of her mind, it was just about to launch in to force proper when- wait- 'sir'?

That- well that was- I mean- it's an innocent enough mistake- people must get mistaken all the time for- for- for, well... Sir? Really? Was that really- how-?

"Oh. It's okay. I mean, it could have been my mistake. Uhm... yes. And it's Asimov. His fiction's better."

Well, he was clearly at a loss here, either he genuinely didn't realise what she'd done or he was just too embarrassed or awkward to openly call her out on it. Shoot, she felt like she'd just laughed at a three-legged puppy for limping.

'Sir', though?

"I'm Bethanne. What's your name?"

Thanqol

2016-08-18, 11:30 PM

Urgh, he's a talker. And the kid's a talker too. And now the talkers are talking to each other and it's never going to stop.

I put the book right back on the shelf where it came from on account of not being particularly positively inclined towards some sort of self-proclaimed black mage and library-talking-person. Ain't your pack mule, son.

Raz_Fox

2016-08-19, 12:44 AM

"Nats," Small says. Should we keep calling them Smalls now that you know their name? Or, at least, the name they've given you? Seems like it'd be easier to just start calling them Nats from now on. So, Nats it is. "Funny thing, actually, you caught us as we were getting some stuff for- ha, look at this guy," he says, pointing at Rikard mirthlessly returning the Jumbo Book of Songs for All Occasions back onto the shelf. "What a kidder. But seriously, you should come, Jack. We do good stuff in the community. Not just me and Eddie, mind you, we're not even Thanes, there's a lot of us all trying to do this community some good. Keep the things going bump in the night on their guard, and go bump right back at them. Not saying you need to sign up right when you join," Nats says, sliding the Jumbo Book of Songs for All Occasions back out of the shelf, because not even a grumpy Rikard is going to stop them from having their book, "Just show up for the turkey and the sweet potatoes and the singing, yeah? We'll show you a good time."

"Nice to meet you, Beth- Beth Anne?" Eddie says, still holding that book like a life preserver. "That's- don't meet a lot of, uh, guys named that. Is it like, one of those names that goes both ways? Huh. Nice to meet you, Beth Anne. I'm, uh- oh, geez," he says, looking back over his shoulder into the stacks. "Sorry, geez, I, Nats probably needs me. Not, needs-needs, but, you know, sorry, thank you for picking up my book, you're very nice, thank you!" He turns and hurriedly starts lumbering down the trail that your compatriots and his companion traveled down.

Anarion

2016-08-23, 01:24 AM

"Yeah, well, I'm not signing up or anything but, uh, thanks for the invite. I'll definitely think about, will be there if I've got no other plans, at least." I mean, gotta play a little hard to get, right? If you just offer to jump into bed right off the bat, they'll think you're not worthy anything, right?

Elanorin

2016-08-23, 05:06 AM

"Nice to meet you, Beth- Beth Anne?" Eddie says, still holding that book like a life preserver. "That's- don't meet a lot of, uh, guys named that. Is it like, one of those names that goes both ways? Huh. Nice to meet you, Beth Anne. I'm, uh- oh, geez," he says, looking back over his shoulder into the stacks. "Sorry, geez, I, Nats probably needs me. Not, needs-needs, but, you know, sorry, thank you for picking up my book, you're very nice, thank you!" He turns and hurriedly starts lumbering down the trail that your compatriots and his companion traveled down.

Bethanne's jaw hung open in complete and utter amazement at this guy. Could anyone be this clueless? It had to be an act, right? It had to, and- and- argh it was outright rude!

She tried her best to rationalise it all, calm her surging temper and hurt pride with every flavour of reason for his behaviour being innocent and genuinely mistaken. Failing to reply with his name was just a mistake from being distracted, right. And she did not look her best in daylight, so, well, some people might, well. Surely he'd be suitably mortified if he realised what he'd done. Of course he would, look at him he was- he was- he was-

No. Way.

"It's Bethanne!" she spun round and snarled after him, losing the battle with her temper. "Not Beth. Anne. Not Bethayne. Not Bethany. Bethanne. And no, it doesn't go both ways! It's a girl's name, for girls, because I'm a girl, you thickheaded idiot! Now, apologise and introduce yourself or I will bite your head off!" she growled behind bared misaligned teeth.

Screw the quiet sign.

Raz_Fox

2016-08-24, 12:01 AM

"Right," Nats says, with a wink your way, Ears. "Take the state road out of town southbound, third exit and then take a right, then just keep a-goin until you come to the Sunshine Ranch. Ask for the Friends of Fire. Tell 'em Nats sent you. Things start about 6:00, people come and go but the party don't stop until everyone's had enough. And- hey, you hear something?"

Far off- surely not that far off, right? You're only a few bookshelves over, it shouldn't sound so muffled and distant. And by it, I mean the tongue-lashing that Bethanne is giving someone. That roar! Unmistakable. Rikard, I would recommend reminding everybody involved to quiet down, seeing as you are the lawman here.

Bethanne, you have destroyed the social contract of this library, I hope you are proud. There are disapproving shushes from the one (1) librarian and the two (2) old geezers trying to play chess in the quiet of a Christmas afternoon.

You have also wrecked this changeling's cool, any of it that may have still been remaining. He's hiding his big, broad face behind the book and- oh, god, he's going to back up right into the shelves. Yep, there he goes, backpedaling, and the shelf is starting to tip- interested in helping him catch that, or are you content to see chaos spreading as a result of you losing your temper?

Elanorin

2016-08-24, 03:08 AM

She's done well, don't you think? She's held it together for, well, not quite 24 hours but it was getting close! Right? Y'know seen from her perspective it's perfectly reasonable for her to blow right now. She's been holding on to calm for dear life, this guy was pushing her buttons in a way that's just plain inhuman, and neither of her friends are in sight. So, yes, she's lost it.

Bethanne saw the- no, no this isn't Bethanne. Anger has surged and claimed her mind and all her compassion, empathy, fear and every other thing that makes her Bethanne is instantly muffled and shut away in a small dark room somewhere far back in her mind. A room that has seen far too much use. Her mind is ruled by anger now, this is The Beast, fresh from Arcadia, and it thirsts for fuel to stoke its own anger further and further. Being shouted at in return, attacked, a fight, yes. A cowering target, hmm it'll do, it does soothe it somewhat, enough to halt its advance. But sweet sweet destruction? Now that is like cool silk to a wound, icy drink of water in baking summer heat. Utterly irresistible.

The shelves topple, it could leap in, stop it, but doesn't. With morbid curiosity it halts, watches, a wicked light in its eyes and a small smile of anticipation spreading over fangs and crooked teeth alike, as it anticipates the sweet sweet cacophony of crashing bookshelves and the disruption of painstakingly categorised and neatly ordered books.

The more the better.

Thanqol

2016-08-24, 06:00 PM

Shelves are falling.

I grab the fox and shove him out of the line of falling bookcases. Then I brace myself against the falling cases and hope I'm strong enough to not get crushed.

Anarion

2016-08-24, 06:05 PM

I'm listening to the directions, nodding along, not really paying that much attention to Rickard's antics until I hear Bethanne shouting. I turn to look and then suddenly I'm flat out across the floor and what the hell is going on? What is Bethanne even doing? Did she go crazy? I try to crawl over to her while avoiding falls shelves and debris.

Raz_Fox

2016-08-26, 10:24 PM

A'right, Bethanne. If you want, go ahead and roll your Presence on this. I would say to add your Intimidation, but you ain't got the skill to frighten a cat on purpose; just happened you stumbled across someone as skittish as a kitten. And speaking of cats, here comes Nats, bounding out of the shelves with not so much as a thank you to the person grimly holding up bookshelves while the lumbering behemoth tries to catch his balance, mumbling apologies to everyone in the room: to you, Bethanne, for getting your name wrong, and to you, Rikard, unseen but not unfelt for your contributions, and to the patrons of the library, the two old men playing their game, and to the librarian who, despite her youth, is looking as shocked as someone charged with keeping things neat must be. And here she comes, getting up from her seat, looking absolutely appalled and asking just what is going on here, you know I'm going to have to reshelve all those books, right, will the two of you please calm down, and there's a hint of fear on the edge of that request because you, Bethanne, are a scary disheveled lady yelling at some poor clumsy sap.

But that doesn't matter so much, does it? Because Nats?

Nats is pulling off gloves and, my, those nails look sharp. And they're lengthening, like a cat's claws, as Nats casually stretches her fingers.

"With the stiff and the good-smelling kid, or just a roughhouser who got hit in the face with the ugly stick?" She's shorter than you, bundled up in a big puffy snow coat, and there's a glint in her eye of- no, that's not glee. You'd expect glee, right? From someone who's willing to show off their sharp claws and insult you that glibly? But there's just anger, welling up. "Either way, why don't you apologize to my friend for scaring him? I mean, unless you were just asking him for a kiss and that sent him running for me."

"It's my fault, Nats-" Eddie starts to speak, but Nats holds up one hand and he falls silent.

"If you wanna dance," Nats says, "Let's go outside and avoid messing up Popeman's haunt any more. Unless you just want to apologize and let us on our way."

Oh, by the way, Rikard? Go ahead and roll Strength+Athletics for me, -2 for the big bag of bricks that someone's shoved against the other side of the shelves. At least that feels like bricks, no way this guy is just flesh and blood. You won't like failing it, trust me.

Thanqol

2016-08-27, 06:43 AM

Oh, by the way, Rikard? Go ahead and roll Strength+Athletics for me, -2 for the big bag of bricks that someone's shoved against the other side of the shelves. At least that feels like bricks, no way this guy is just flesh and blood. You won't like failing it, trust me.

Hup.

Roll(4d10)+0:
8,10,9,2 - 4

Easy. Lift with your knees. Like the poster says.

And... back we go.

Elanorin

2016-08-27, 11:02 AM

A'right, Bethanne. If you want, go ahead and roll your Presence on this. I would say to add your Intimidation, but you ain't got the skill to frighten a cat on purpose; just happened you stumbled across someone as skittish as a kitten. And speaking of cats, here comes Nats, bounding out of the shelves with not so much as a thank you to the person grimly holding up bookshelves while the lumbering behemoth tries to catch his balance, mumbling apologies to everyone in the room: to you, Bethanne, for getting your name wrong, and to you, Rikard, unseen but not unfelt for your contributions, and to the patrons of the library, the two old men playing their game, and to the librarian who, despite her youth, is looking as shocked as someone charged with keeping things neat must be. And here she comes, getting up from her seat, looking absolutely appalled and asking just what is going on here, you know I'm going to have to reshelve all those books, right, will the two of you please calm down, and there's a hint of fear on the edge of that request because you, Bethanne, are a scary disheveled lady yelling at some poor clumsy sap.

But that doesn't matter so much, does it? Because Nats?

Nats is pulling off gloves and, my, those nails look sharp. And they're lengthening, like a cat's claws, as Nats casually stretches her fingers.

"With the stiff and the good-smelling kid, or just a roughhouser who got hit in the face with the ugly stick?" She's shorter than you, bundled up in a big puffy snow coat, and there's a glint in her eye of- no, that's not glee. You'd expect glee, right? From someone who's willing to show off their sharp claws and insult you that glibly? But there's just anger, welling up. "Either way, why don't you apologize to my friend for scaring him? I mean, unless you were just asking him for a kiss and that sent him running for me."

"It's my fault, Nats-" Eddie starts to speak, but Nats holds up one hand and he falls silent.

"If you wanna dance," Nats says, "Let's go outside and avoid messing up Popeman's haunt any more. Unless you just want to apologize and let us on our way."

[Rolling 4d10: 5, 7, 9, 8]

"Apology accepted," she growled at the bumbling idiot, before her eyes turned to the fast approaching cat. Noting the gloves coming off.

Just as the anger was about to simmer down at the soothing destruction and the complete shower of apologies, that feral smile widened further at the new challenge. Kitty wasn't the only one with claws.

"Yeah, let's go outside," she snarled, taking a step towards this Nats, "so we can find you a tree to run up and hide in."

Anarion

2016-08-27, 05:00 PM

[Rolling 4d10: 5, 7, 9, 8]

"Apology accepted," she growled at the bumbling idiot, before her eyes turned to the fast approaching cat. Noting the gloves coming off.

Just as the anger was about to simmer down at the soothing destruction and the complete shower of apologies, that feral smile widened further at the new challenge. Kitty wasn't the only one with claws.

"Yeah, let's go outside," she snarled, taking a step towards this Nats, "so we can find you a tree to run up and hide in."

A hand on Bethanne's shoulder. It's Ears, but I couldn't tell you if she's paying attention to that. "Is this really the best time? I'm not sure we want to make new acquaintances by taking it out back for a fight, and...well does your, uh, makeup include removing scratches for a party this evening?"

Raz_Fox

2016-08-29, 12:53 AM

Bookshelves settle back into place, though they've spilled their guts all over the floor. Big thick almanacs obscenely mounting wilderness survival manuals, books on Niagara Falls spine-twisted underneath encyclopedias, great big piles that young Brown's going to have to spend the rest of her afternoon picking up and sorting back into place. Speaking of that young librarian, she's giving the small fracas here a wide berth; she's sworn to care about the library, but defusing fights between people is outside her pay grade. Were her boss here, well. Well! The fight, I don't think you'd have to worry about that. Not with Miss Popeman glaring acid down your throats.

"Meet you in the side lot, bitch." Nats snaps her fingers, and Eddie snaps to attention, trying to get all of his oversized body under control, following in the small woman's footsteps. Nats, for her part, walks past you, Bethanne, cool as a cucumber. Not hopping up and down all fiercelike, no, not her. She's got poise, and a swagger like a tomcat who's king of the back alley.

The entire effect is ruined when Nats realizes that she hasn't actually checked out the books, that young Brown is fussing over the books knocked off the shelves, and so she stops to reach over the counter and start scanning the books out, including the Asimov book that Bethanne handed Eddie. It just knocks the whole moment right off into farce, and she knows it, and the two men playing their game by the front window know it, and whatever they think of this whole affair, they ain't telling.

Elanorin

2016-08-30, 05:23 AM

A hand on Bethanne's shoulder. It's Ears, but I couldn't tell you if she's paying attention to that. "Is this really the best time? I'm not sure we want to make new acquaintances by taking it out back for a fight, and...well does your, uh, makeup include removing scratches for a party this evening?"

Bookshelves settle back into place, though they've spilled their guts all over the floor. Big thick almanacs obscenely mounting wilderness survival manuals, books on Niagara Falls spine-twisted underneath encyclopedias, great big piles that young Brown's going to have to spend the rest of her afternoon picking up and sorting back into place. Speaking of that young librarian, she's giving the small fracas here a wide berth; she's sworn to care about the library, but defusing fights between people is outside her pay grade. Were her boss here, well. Well! The fight, I don't think you'd have to worry about that. Not with Miss Popeman glaring acid down your throats.

"Meet you in the side lot, bitch." Nats snaps her fingers, and Eddie snaps to attention, trying to get all of his oversized body under control, following in the small woman's footsteps. Nats, for her part, walks past you, Bethanne, cool as a cucumber. Not hopping up and down all fiercelike, no, not her. She's got poise, and a swagger like a tomcat who's king of the back alley.

The entire effect is ruined when Nats realizes that she hasn't actually checked out the books, that young Brown is fussing over the books knocked off the shelves, and so she stops to reach over the counter and start scanning the books out, including the Asimov book that Bethanne handed Eddie. It just knocks the whole moment right off into farce, and she knows it, and the two men playing their game by the front window know it, and whatever they think of this whole affair, they ain't telling.

Bethanne felt the hand on her shoulder, that light touch, it could only belong to one person that she could think would ever do such a thing. She didn't turn to acknowledge him, but she managed to hold back the angry yanking away that had been her instinctive reaction.

She watched Nats swagger past, eager to get her claws in to the little witch, until, the moment suddenly turns in to utter parody. Bethanne saw how instantly a dangerous scene in a moment turn to ridiculous, and she saw Nats bear the brunt of the humiliation of it. And she knew it. And she took it anyway, why?

Bethanne looked at the books as each was checked in and stacked. Then she turned to look over her shoulder at Ears. Her anger was simmering down. She'd seen something in Nats that she actually respected, though it wasn't not her taste in literature. What was a hellcat like that doing with all those books anyway?

"Let's go," she said softly under her breath to Ears with a small nod of concession. She did not wait, but grabbed her Monster's Inc backpack and left, passing Nats and her books without a word.

Thanqol

2016-08-31, 12:18 AM

I take my eyes off for a few seconds and this happens? I put a few books on the shelves and then step around a corner to block Bethanne.

"Ms. Blessed, Ms. Nats," I say, "you are not getting into a tragic bum fight in the parking lot outside a public library." I say this slowly, patiently, but with more than a little contempt. This situation is pathetic and laughable and I don't care who I have to offend in the process of reminding everyone of that. "I can and will bust both of your asses for vagrancy, battery and disturbing the peace."

I am still a cop.

Anarion

2016-08-31, 02:09 AM

"He just got back, thinks he's a cop" I lean over and whisper to Nats. "Best to play along."

Elanorin

2016-08-31, 04:10 AM

Raz_Fox

2016-08-31, 11:24 PM

Outside, the snow's coming down all thick fat swirls. If you'd fought- not that it's looking like you will, Bethanne, given that Nats seems unwilling to press the issue with Rikard glowering at her- it would have been mighty cold weather to tussle in. Nats swings a messenger bag from one shoulder, folding the top shut to keep the books safe inside.

"Summer always pays its debts," Nats hisses at you, Bethanne. "You mess with my Eddie again and I'll kick your ass. I'll kick your fox's ass. I'll kick anyone's ass. If I messed with the big lug, I'd kick my own ass."

"You do mess with me," Eddie says morosely.

"There's a difference between teasing and messing, Eddie," Nats says. Between this and checking out the library books, she's lost her thunder and she knows it. "Still. It's Christmas, we've got the potluck, if you come tonight I won't get in your face. Guarantee it on the King's name. If I messed with you during that, he'd kick my ass."

She trudges off, and Eddie follows after, leaving heavy tracks in the snow.

Right. Where to next, intrepid explorers?

Thanqol

2016-08-31, 11:34 PM

Well, that seems settled.

I make a brief diversion to pick up any books that had fallen that I had missed and make sure the shelf was orderly. It was nice when it was orderly. I for the moment appreciated a calm library without any weirdoes looking to get in a fight.

But this king sounded like some sort of organized crime figure and if nothing else it would be good to clap eyes on all the weird troublemakers in my town. There was something under the surface here and I wanted to dig it up. Maybe I was just a sucker for intrigue.

So my vote is to skip ahead to that event, but I'm happy to detour if anyone else has business to attend to first.

Anarion

2016-08-31, 11:45 PM

"I want to see Jeremiah. Now, even though it's Christmas day. If there's a big event going on tonight, that changes things, and I bet he's around making preparations. Jackie thought we could trust him, and whether it's crimelord, king, or local mayor, I'd rather not walk in blind."

Elanorin

2016-09-01, 04:10 AM

"Summer always pays its debts," Nats hisses at you, Bethanne. "You mess with my Eddie again and I'll kick your ass. I'll kick your fox's ass. I'll kick anyone's ass. If I messed with the big lug, I'd kick my own ass."

"You do mess with me," Eddie says morosely.

"There's a difference between teasing and messing, Eddie," Nats says. Between this and checking out the library books, she's lost her thunder and she knows it. "Still. It's Christmas, we've got the potluck, if you come tonight I won't get in your face. Guarantee it on the King's name. If I messed with you during that, he'd kick my ass."

"I've got no issue with Eddie," Bethanne hisses back with narrowed eyes, meeting Nats glare with her own. "He made a mistake and apologised for it, far as I see it, the issue is closed. We're good. Nosy little busybodies interfering in business not their own, on the other hand... but, as you say, it's Christmas."

She trudges off, and Eddie follows after, leaving heavy tracks in the snow.

"Merry Christmas!" Bethanne calls after them, not entirely able to keep the taunting tone out of her voice.

"I want to see Jeremiah. Now, even though it's Christmas day. If there's a big event going on tonight, that changes things, and I bet he's around making preparations. Jackie thought we could trust him, and whether it's crimelord, king, or local mayor, I'd rather not walk in blind."

"Okay," Bethanne mutters, diverting her eyes away from either of her two companions. "Fine, let's go," she sighs, the last of her anger rippling away. She was not crazy about seeing this guy before changing, she felt he was someone worth making an impression on. But she'd had it with making suggestions, it clearly wasn't her forte. Besides, she was embarrassed enough about the episode in the library that she'd pretty much go along with anything now just to not have to speak up and be argued at.

"What's this big party thing everyone's on about anyway?" she asked as they went.

Raz_Fox

2016-09-02, 11:57 PM

As you three know- because it's hard to grow up in a small town and not know the small-town secrets, the bits of other people's lives that are strange, that get walled away by sheer numbers in the big city- Jeremiah is the Chief Curator of the Embrook Viking Museum, which packs a surprising amount of strange and wonderful things into three rooms and a gift shop. It helps that Jeremiah, a man as old as Methuselah himself, has enough sense to put up cultural Native artifacts alongside the odd belt buckle and rune-scored stone: woven baskets and arrowheads sitting comfortably next to the withered-away handles of ancient swords, next to large printed signs explaining little facts about our Viking ancestors.

Jeremiah runs the museum, cleans up after lockup, eats lunch and dinner at the cafe across the street, and lives in a shack down the road from the museum. I wouldn't wager any of you ever saw old Jeremiah outside of that routine. Never at the grocery store, never at church, never at the doctor's office.

Museum's closed for the day, so I assume that the three of you troop over to his old shack, which, really, looks like someone's garden shed. He can't really live there, right? There's a chain-link fence that runs around his property, and inside that fence is the most overgrown bunch of foliage and trees anyone's ever seen. You have to push branches out of the way, step over creeping vines that have rudely stretched their arms out over the trampled-down dirt path that leads up to his sheet-metal front door, and deal with snow dropping down on your heads from higher branches.

Funny thing, really- everything outside that fence is normal enough for land that's being eaten up by nature again. A cleared-out patch of land that's overgrown with weeds, a bit of asphalt that's being broken-up by shoots, a broken lumber heap. But inside that chain-link fence, the trees grow high and everything grows in between them.

Go ahead and roll me Wits+Composure, everyone.

Anarion

2016-09-03, 01:16 AM

[roll0]
Scratch off a die on the far right if being sick applies to this sort of roll.

Thanqol

2016-09-04, 01:26 AM

4,7,10,1,- 8. I'm good on mysterious dice rolls. There's plus some dice if it's a perception thing due to Clarity but I figure you can handle that.

Elanorin

2016-09-04, 03:37 AM

5, 4

It's almost as if I have trouble with self control.

Raz_Fox

2016-09-05, 01:15 AM

A'right, so. Rikard, Ears- the two of you catch sight of Jeremiah. He's sitting, cozy as you please, in a wicker chair half-hidden among the foliage and the snow. There's a tatty old umbrella set up above his seat, and he's bundled up, but it's hard to miss the fact that he looks somewhat different than you might remember. For starters, his head's the head of a crow. Or a raven. Not that you'd know the difference without doing some beak inspection.

And he's watching you. At least, I think he is? It's hard to tell with those glassy black eyes of his. Hard to tell from this distance whether he's got anything that would make your life uncomfortable in his hands. Too much brush blocking your view.

Bethanne, snow trickles down the back of your shirt. The cottage looks like there's nobody home, but between you and me, I think you'd best go and knock.

Anarion

2016-09-05, 01:21 AM

I'll make straight for him then. I get ravens (or crows, it's hard to tell since size is irrelevant with a beastman and I can't see whether there's a crest behind his head from this angle peaking out of the foliage), I'm a fox, we have an understanding, it's one of those fundamental species things, where we all have our place in the forest and the city. Well, at any rate, that's what I'd like to think, y'know? And Jackie did say to go see him, so I'm trusting her word here that he'll be the sociable sort. Anyway, like I said, I'll make straight for him. Not, like, sprinting or anything, no need to be startling anybody, right, that'd be no good at all. How's he react to the sight of us coming right over to him from a distance? I'd give a little wave and a hello once we get in voice range, something friendly like. That's me, Ears, Mr. friendly fox, which is definitely the primary thing that foxes are known for.

Elanorin

2016-09-05, 03:50 AM

This place, no disrespect, looked like a bit of a dump. Let's be honest. But beggars can't be choosers, she didn't have a home at all and a dump was better than a park bench covered in aaaaaaaaaaaaaugghh snow!

Bethanne yelped and had a violent full-body shudder at the snow trickling down her back. She pulled her clothes tighter around her and gave the snow-covered branches suspicious glares as she negotiated her way towards the front door. She tried a couple of semi-subtle peeks through any window but got the very strong feeling this was one empty house. Fox was distracted by something in the, uhm, 'garden', so she figured it was up to her to

"Hello?" she called out aloud and knocked three loud knocks on the door.

Thanqol

2016-09-05, 07:13 PM

Raz_Fox

2016-09-06, 10:50 PM

Anarion

2016-09-07, 01:02 AM

"I...that is, Jackie from outside of town said we ought to come see you. We're new. Not new to town but...new to...to...this. All this." Ears gestures in a broad sweep of the arm that manages to implicate pretty much the entire universe in under a second.

"And she said you'd be honest with us, tell us about, well, politics I guess. I dunno, I've got, like, opinions about stuff and Jackie said not to get involved, but I want to get involved, and now we're invited to this potluck party tonight, like from this little cat girl, Nats, who's all chummy with me, right, but then my friend here..." vague gesture towards Bethanne who's managed to wander off and pound on the empty cabin for some reason "...Uh, my crazy friend here gets a little rude and all of a sudden it's 'rawr claws in the back alley' y'know? But I still want to go to the party and I wanted to come find you now instead of meeting a whole bunch of people and stumbling blind into a bunch of stuff."

Deep breath.

"So, I guess what I'm asking is what should I, what should we be asking about? What do we need to know to get by in town?"

Elanorin

2016-09-07, 04:27 AM

The sharp clack of a beak. The twist of a head, catching you, Ears, clean in the center of his eye. (And doesn't this just explain the occasional jerky movement, the turn of a shaggy dark head, the trembling that other people might have put down to nerves going in old age? Doesn't it just.) "Evening," he says, his beak hanging open unnaturally as he pronounces the vuh. People aren't supposed to speak with beaks, after all.

If God had meant for it, well, we'd have them already, wouldn't we?

"Look, I don- oh!" Bethanne jumped a little when she noticed the bird-man. It was not what she expected to find here at all and the way he spoke really just unsettled the whole image even more.

"Or close 'nuff to it, anyhow. Now, what are the three of you doing on my property? It's one of the last things we've got left that's ours, anymore: the fences we put down on the land. Houses we build. That's why we always have to invite them in, one way or the other." Your guess is as good as mine as to how happy he is to see you, or whether he's seen Rikard's gun yet. Bird heads are weird.

Goodness, look at that bird head. And those eyes. How does he even talk with that beak?

Bethanne could not stop herself from staring, sure, she wasn't one to speak, she was hardly the picture of humanity herself, but a bird? It was both eerie and fascinating at the same time. And a little sad.

"I...that is, Jackie from outside of town said we ought to come see you. We're new. Not new to town but...new to...to...this. All this." Ears gestures in a broad sweep of the arm that manages to implicate pretty much the entire universe in under a second.

"And she said you'd be honest with us, tell us about, well, politics I guess. I dunno, I've got, like, opinions about stuff and Jackie said not to get involved, but I want to get involved, and now we're invited to this potluck party tonight, like from this little cat girl, Nats, who's all chummy with me, right, but then my friend here..." vague gesture towards Bethanne who's managed to wander off and pound on the empty cabin for some reason

How do you kiss someone with a beak? Can you even? Oh, God, what if he can't. Ever. What a horrible fate; to know that even if the right moment and person came...

Bethanne's face fell sad, but then,

"...Uh, my crazy friend here gets a little rude and all of a sudden it's 'rawr claws in the back alley' y'know?

Hey! What- they started it!

Bethanne's face went from sad through surprise and indignant in seconds but kept her mouth shut for now. Crazy, huh? She settled a dark glare on fox's back and crossed her arms over her chest and began nursing a grudge.

But I still want to go to the party and I wanted to come find you now instead of meeting a whole bunch of people and stumbling blind into a bunch of stuff."

Deep breath.

"So, I guess what I'm asking is what should I, what should we be asking about? What do we need to know to get by in town?"

Thanqol

2016-09-07, 04:57 PM

"While my friend here may be lookin' for some mentor figure to walk him around the tough decisions he ain't talkin' on my account," I said. "I'm here to mention that I ain't going to go easy on anyone just because they've had it tough. If your folks don't know better than to avoid fights -" or talk too loudly in a library "- then they're going to be spending a couple of nights down in a nice iron cell, so you might want to set a better example."

Raz_Fox

2016-09-08, 09:22 PM

Anarion

2016-09-08, 10:12 PM

"He's here?" I'm not talking to anyone, just to myself. "He's here. He works with the mayor, and he didn't know about my account." I'm grinning. "He didn't know, that means he took up from before...took a different route than I did..." I'm grinning all over. I'm still here in this town. That's big, that's something I'd wanted to know, and now I've got a lead to go find me. Not today, not on Christmas I don't think, wouldn't want to upset the folks, but tomorrow. I walk in after the old crow, wondering to myself about kings and fairy tales.

Elanorin

2016-09-09, 11:35 AM

Jeremiah is quiet for an unsettling span of time. Snow drifts downwards, all quietlike, and still he sits, and still you are: an earnest young man trying his best to get answers about what's going on, a young woman whose hurt feelings mask a deep well of compassion that's going to get her in trouble one day, a policeman leaning on what he knows best to get him through the day.

"Being over there breaks people," he says, finally. His beak moves, jerkily, like he was a puppet on a low-budget fifties' kid's show. "Other people- regular people- can't see what we see. I've been like this since the first time you-" He points one crooked almost-talon at you, Rikard- "Came into my museum with your siblings in tow. You stay like this. There's all sort of disagreement about what to do with being back. Used to be we had a..." His beak closes, and he sits there, like someone cut his strings and left him to sit on that chair.

"An organization," he says, after a moment, jerking back to life. "I say organization. Kingdom, we called it. Lords and ladies of our own. Thumbing noses at the ones over there. Now the king's gone and the throne's empty, and everybody in town picks sides."

He finally stands up, snow tumbling off his shoulders. "If you come inside, I can explain things further. If not, just know this: something with your face lives here. Yours works with the Mayor," he says, pointing at you, Ears. Then, to Rikard. "Yours... is trouble." Then, to Bethanne. "And yours... manages my prescriptions, if I have the right of it. Troubling. Troubling."

He hobbles, leaning on a cane, between you, muttering something to himself with a click-clack of his beak. One hand is waved in invitation towards the door of his small shack.

The news of someone here impersonating her hit her like a brick in the face and almost every emotion collided at once. Did... did everyone think she was still here- that nothing had happened?! Nothing?! She looked at her paw-hands and felt nausea rise at the thought of being faced with being labelled the imposter of the two. But wasn't she?

She had briefly looked up the hospital when they were in the library but she thought her name featured just as an honorary - not as an active member of staff! She at once wanted to run away and confront it all head on. Without really seeing where she was going, she followed fox inside. It seemed the thing to do.

"W-was the king killed?" she made herself ask, but really, not even she thought her voice sounded interested in the answer. Her head was spinning, the floor felt unsteady, but more than anything... she felt hot.

Thanqol

2016-09-10, 04:49 AM

Anarion

2016-09-10, 06:39 PM

"So you're saying there are dopplegangers of us hanging around?" I ask. "Is there any reason why I shouldn't just blow them away?"

It's a serious question. I know just enough about the occult to know that ain't no good ever came from any supernatural impersonators. The thought that these creatures might be anything other than shapechanging monsters ain't never going to cross my brain of its own accord. My question is more from a place of, are they going to have friends, or weird powers, or can only be killed by silver knives or what-have-you.

"No!" Ears turns towards Rickard. You can see his whiskers twitching, ears tense, teeth bared in a snarl that hadn't come consciously to his face. He looks Rickard over, thinks better of his initial reaction, runs a hand through his fur, tries to calm down. "I...I want to meet him, I want to see...please don't."

Thanqol

2016-09-11, 10:19 PM

"No!" Ears turns towards Rickard. You can see his whiskers twitching, ears tense, teeth bared in a snarl that hadn't come consciously to his face. He looks Rickard over, thinks better of his initial reaction, runs a hand through his fur, tries to calm down. "I...I want to meet him, I want to see...please don't."

Maybe there is something to the kid being a plant. I'm not much inclined to trust to begin with and we're rapidly heading towards active suspicion.

"It ain't human, never was human, and we ain't got no rightly idea what it'll set it off," I said. "I've met its type before. It ain't just your life you're playing with here."

Raz_Fox

2016-09-11, 11:00 PM

The inside of the shack is a cramped mess of- well, it's hard to say what everything exactly is. Furniture, plants, corkboards, moldering paperback books, hanging ivy, a stone knife hanging from the ceiling right over the door- a very sharp stone knife. Don't brush your head against it.

Jeremiah makes a series of whistling clicks: long, avian noises that don't belong in any human throat. Chairs are pushed forward from the clutter: four, draped in vines, almost looking ready to fall apart. Rusted screws, splintered backs, and mismatched arms. I can't entirely promise you, in good conscience, that you're not in a deleted scene from Jim Henson's Labyrinth.

Except Jeremiah's not a muppet. He's too unnatural to be a muppet. Even muppets wouldn't move their heads like that.

He bends over something that might, at one point, have been a counter, and starts fiddling with what looks to be a book of matches.

"W-was the king killed?" she made herself ask, but really, not even she thought her voice sounded interested in the answer. Her head was spinning, the floor felt unsteady, but more than anything... she felt hot.

"Probably," he says. "There's the argument, though. His ward says that he's still alive, just lost in the Hedge. The King of Summer says he's dead. My friends and I don't have the authority to give what strength we have left to either side. And the lady of this season- close the door, would you- she and hers don't do our politics."

Snap. The match in his withered fingers(?) sparks to life, and he starts what seems to be a cooking stove, a light thing of tarnished metal that would fit in a backpack.

"Let me start again. There once was a man named Ashfinger who knew the secrets of high Faerie and low Hell, who could run faster than any Huntsman, who could think sharper, speak sweeter, and he caught Autumn in a deal, and he was the High King of Embrook's freehold. That's what we call a collection of us, who tumble through back and forth from Fairyland and our homes, who've seen terrible things and need to be around people like us who can see the world as it is. Four courts: Spring-" And here he jabs a finger at his own chest. "Summer, Autumn, and Winter. Kings and queens, because we can't afford democracy, not with Fairyland knocking at the door, asking us to come back."

He rummages in a pile of junk, comes up with an old pot, starts sweeping snow off his shoulders into the pot. "Our Queen says that the best way to live after Fairyland is to live, you understand me? Encourage people to come, strangers to see our town, remind us that there's more to the world than Fairy folk. Without her, we wouldn't have the museum. Summer used to be about protecting people from the dark, but nowadays they seem more interested in throwing their weight around and telling us all that they're in charge. Autumn's always been about secrets, the thorns and the magic. And the fear. Won't say more about them than that. You can go ask them what they're about yourself, if you want."

The pot makes its way onto the camp stove, snow melting into slush melting into water. "Don't go looking for Winter. If you join a court, folk will explain the ways to get in touch with them. They can kill your doubles, if you want. Or they can stitch you up, mend your woes. Or they can bury something so deep that not even the thaw will touch it. But there will be a price, I'm warning you now."

"So you're saying there are dopplegangers of us hanging around?" I ask. "Is there any reason why I shouldn't just blow them away?"

It's a serious question. I know just enough about the occult to know that ain't no good ever came from any supernatural impersonators. The thought that these creatures might be anything other than shapechanging monsters ain't never going to cross my brain of its own accord. My question is more from a place of, are they going to have friends, or weird powers, or can only be killed by silver knives or what-have-you.

It isn't until he's finished that long speech about courts and seasons (which, between you and me, is ridiculous, isn't it?) that his mind seems to wander back to your question, Rikard. "As to your doubles... well. I don't like them. But there's trouble if you kill them before you're ready. The High King made a law that only you can kill your double, and it's still upheld by both Summer and Autumn. Winter sneaks around it. Way I've heard it, they ask for a few teeth or a finger, and then that double vanishes and it's up to you to step back in."

"But it's the stepping back in that's difficult." Can you hear it? He's starting into that soft, confident voice, the one he uses at the museum to explain things to children. It's a kind voice, and one that's holding back his excitement at explaining things. "They're like you, but not you at the same time. Mine lives out west on a reservation, and he doesn't come here to trouble me, and I don't go back home to trouble him, but he doesn't have half my wit. My... Keeper, my wit was the only thing she couldn't breathe back into him, was why she took me in the first place. He makes a hash of what life he has, and if I were to kill him and take his place, I'd have to pretend to be a fool, or make up some good excuse as to why I don't remember all of his friends, and why I'm making good decisions for the first time in his life, seeing as he's had a long while to drive my good name into the mud. I'd be play-acting for the rest of my life, either way, and some people can do it, but it takes a toll on you all the same."

"For example, you-" he points at you, Bethanne- "You think you could go rip your double's head off and then step right back in to filling out prescriptions? She's most likely had a good amount of time to get to know all her patients, and if you ate her rotten heart and put on her white coat, you'd have to hit the ground running making connections, trying to fake like you remember what everyone's ailing from and what she told them to do for their aches and bruises. Of course, you could spy on her, but that's difficult, especially if you don't know any mirror tricks. And you could pay Winter to spy on her, but their prices are high. Might turn out not to be worth what you lose."

"And you," he says, pointing at you, Rikard, "you'd have to come up with an explanation for where you went all these years. Haven't seen you around town in the longest time. Heard that your mother was worried fierce and that you'd dropped out of the force, and from our sort of folk, I hear that you're trouble. A stalker, a watcher-of-magic-places. Killer, if pressed."

He turns, spits in the pot on the stove. The smell of rich, spiced tea starts filling the shack.

"Any more questions? You deserve to know the ins-and-outs of what's going on in this town, and I've got time before the Knight and the Skald come over for cards."

Thanqol

2016-09-11, 11:29 PM

"And you," he says, pointing at you, Rikard, "you'd have to come up with an explanation for where you went all these years. Haven't seen you around town in the longest time. Heard that your mother was worried fierce and that you'd dropped out of the force, and from our sort of folk, I hear that you're trouble. A stalker, a watcher-of-magic-places. Killer, if pressed."

"Easy enough. Undercover assignment in a big city," said Rickard. "Or some time in the forces. Ain't far from the truth anyhow,"

I can imagine the life that the impersonator is living; I was living it myself for a while there. And that's what concerns me. If he can do half as well as I can he'll be a ghost, a sniper, a hunter - and utterly fearless. He'll know the lay of the land and I get the feeling he'll know I'm coming.

Hell. Just the thought puts me on edge.

Good news is anyone who been following the case I know him to be following will have some kind of police file on him. Maybe they'll reckon he's a Marine gone off the reservation. But he won't be on the force 'cause the force will be compromised. That means that life is there for my taking - but my first case will have to be tracking the bastard down.

I can't rightly think of anything else. There ain't no bigger threat.

He'd think the same thing about me.

He turns, spits in the pot on the stove. The smell of rich, spiced tea starts filling the shack.

Guess I'm going thirsty.

Elanorin

2016-09-12, 02:30 AM

"I don't even know if the kind of life she's turned mine in to over 8 years is something I'd even want," Bethanne confessed and cautiously sat down on one of the offered chairs, half expecting it to give up the ghost under her and send her crashing down. "At the same time it feels impossible to try to create a new life with her around. It's not that big a town, I'm bound to bump in to people she knows, friends, her- my family..."

She slumped together and stared in to thin air, wondering to herself if running off to Europe or somewhere was her only option. It was upsetting. She'd only just got home again, she'd fought tooth an nail to get here and yet somehow it was still out of her reach.

"So, this party tonight," she made herself say with a hoarse throat, "was this at one of these... courts?" she asked Ears.

Anarion

2016-09-12, 04:57 PM

Maybe there is something to the kid being a plant. I'm not much inclined to trust to begin with and we're rapidly heading towards active suspicion.

"It ain't human, never was human, and we ain't got no rightly idea what it'll set it off," I said. "I've met its type before. It ain't just your life you're playing with here."

"So that's the way of it, huh? Shoot anything you don't trust, figure it out after it's dead?" I'd have more to say, but Jeremiah starts talking and I settle for a glare at Rickard instead.

"So, this party tonight," she made herself say with a hoarse throat, "was this at one of these... courts?" she asked Ears.

"Friends of fire, is what Nats called it. Said she and, Eddie was the other guy, right? That she and Eddie were part of the local governing body, called it the friends of fire. They're the ones hosting the potluck. I'd guess that's...uh, summer maybe? Fire sounds like a summer thing. Or maybe a fall thing, but I'd think summer." Ears turns to look at Jeremiah, "Or, uh, maybe I should stop BSing and just ask you. Friends of Fire, who are they and uh, what would we be stepping into going to their party tonight?"

Ears thinks for a moment and throws out a couple more questions in no particular order. "What if I don't want my old life back, or whatever life my double has now? What if I don't want to kill him either. You..." points at Jeremiah, "said that yours doesn't bother you and you don't bother him, so we don't have to kill them, yeah? What if I want to meet mine, stop by the old house, say hi, see how he's been treating Mom and Dad, maybe buy a burrito (they still sell burritos at that place downtown, right?)? Is that a problem, would I get in trouble for it?" You can hear pretty clearly in Ears' tone of voice that when he says "get in trouble" he's not wondering about whether he should do it or not, just how secret he needs to be about the whole thing. Thinks for another second, adds another question. "You didn't say anything about my double, Jeremiah. Why's that? There something wrong with him?"

Thanqol

2016-09-13, 12:12 AM

"So that's the way of it, huh? Shoot anything you don't trust, figure it out after it's dead?" I'd have more to say, but Jeremiah starts talking and I settle for a glare at Rickard instead.

"You never had a dog that went bad, did you? You can love that dog. Give it everything. Be its family. But it'll still pull you down and bite your arm for reasons you'll never understand. Because it ain't a human and you can't ever know what it thinks," I said. "And this ain't a dog, bred through generations to love people like itself. It's a wild thing made by someone you don't know to fill a purpose you can't know, and its whole existence is spent lyin' to people.

"You goin' up to it and asking it to lunch is like my sister trying to pat a wolf because it was big and fuzzy. She lost two fingers and damn near an eye. You don't know this thing. You don't know what it thinks or what it's seen. You don't even know if it thinks. It ain't a person. I ain't saying don't have a dog but I am saying don't pet no wolf."

Raz_Fox

2016-09-13, 12:45 AM

If anyone's interested, there's tea available in some Official Embrook Viking mugs. Spit-tea, but still, smells like tea. Jeremiah pours himself a mug, curls his fingers(?) around it, watches Ears and Rikard argue with those glossy black eyes of his. Watches. Waits. Listens.

"You never had a dog that went bad, did you? You can love that dog. Give it everything. Be its family. But it'll still pull you down and bite your arm for reasons you'll never understand. Because it ain't a human and you can't ever know what it thinks," I said. "And this ain't a dog, bred through generations to love people like itself. It's a wild thing made by someone you don't know to fill a purpose you can't know, and its whole existence is spent lyin' to people.

"You goin' up to it and asking it to lunch is like my sister trying to pat a wolf because it was big and fuzzy. She lost two fingers and damn near an eye. You don't know this thing. You don't know what it thinks or what it's seen. You don't even know if it thinks. It ain't a person. I ain't saying don't have a dog but I am saying don't pet no wolf."

"No, you've got the right of it," Jeremiah says. "These things, they're wrong, one way or another. Sometimes it's a bad wrong. Sometimes they're better at being you than you were. Sometimes they're just... off. You need to step careful around them. But here's the rub: they look like normal. Like you used to. All the time. They fall all to pieces once they die, once the magic's gone, but until then, only way to know is to find the original."

"And you and me, we know that not everyone stuck over there has made their way back. Will ever make their way back. You fall for some cute girl, just a normal person who never got dragged through the thorns? Might be a patchwork doll made by Them over there. Only one way to know for sure. I've known people who can't handle the pressure, the not-knowing. Either they stop talking to folk who ain't part of the survivor's club, or they start killing everyone who might be a double or a clockwork soldier, and sometimes they get blood all over their hands and realize too late that this one wasn't from Fairyland."

"Then it's just a race to see whether it's Summer or Winter or the Market that puts them out of their misery."

He sticks his beak in the mug, slurps up a long gulp of tea.

"Now, you, MacDougall? Your double works with the mayor. That's all I know, sorry to say. We used to have some channels with Town Hall, but nowadays you have to go through Autumn to get anything done around there." There's a definite grumble to his tone there. "As for Natasha and Edward, they're both Summer hotheads. Jack Dusk," and there's definite disdain there, "the Summer King, always hosts a Christmas potluck for anyone who doesn't have a family to eat Christmas dinner with. Really, it's mostly just Summer down there. Food's good, nobody ever pulls a knife with Jack's eye right on them, and there are worse ways to get to know that court."

"Of course, back in the day, back in the day, we had parties. Glamour on tap, music to dance to, fairy lights dancing up and down the tent poles... the High King tasked us with reminding everyone why it was important that we left Fairyland. Why this world is worth keeping. That we've got beauty of our own. Spring! Smiling Jenny would give gifts, and they were always exactly what you didn't know you wanted. Now there's me, and there's Ray Hollack who runs the graveyard, and Riddleman John who keeps the north side of town, and young Elijah, and Luke at the school. And we keep the lights on, but not much more than that."

Elanorin

2016-09-13, 04:13 AM

Anarion

2016-09-13, 11:46 AM

"You never had a dog that went bad, did you? You can love that dog. Give it everything. Be its family. But it'll still pull you down and bite your arm for reasons you'll never understand. Because it ain't a human and you can't ever know what it thinks," I said. "And this ain't a dog, bred through generations to love people like itself. It's a wild thing made by someone you don't know to fill a purpose you can't know, and its whole existence is spent lyin' to people.

"You goin' up to it and asking it to lunch is like my sister trying to pat a wolf because it was big and fuzzy. She lost two fingers and damn near an eye. You don't know this thing. You don't know what it thinks or what it's seen. You don't even know if it thinks. It ain't a person. I ain't saying don't have a dog but I am saying don't pet no wolf."

"Look, I'll be the first to say it's dangerous, but a creature made of magic isn't the same as a dog, and you damn well know it. If it's good enough to live my life, or yours, then it thinks, and feels, and uses logic and stuff like that. Maybe it ends up being against you, maybe Jeremiah is right and there's no avoiding a fight, but if you're so hell bent on shooting every damn one of them before you even know what they're like, maybe you should join those Winter guys and take a job on the hit squad, yeah? You can count me out of that, though."

If anyone's interested, there's tea available in some Official Embrook Viking mugs. Spit-tea, but still, smells like tea. Jeremiah pours himself a mug, curls his fingers(?) around it, watches Ears and Rikard argue with those glossy black eyes of his. Watches. Waits. Listens.

Ears looks at his mug, sniffs it, thinks about it, starts to sneeze again, shrugs, and takes a sip. Might be good for the cold and all.

"No, you've got the right of it," Jeremiah says. "These things, they're wrong, one way or another. Sometimes it's a bad wrong. Sometimes they're better at being you than you were. Sometimes they're just... off. You need to step careful around them. But here's the rub: they look like normal. Like you used to. All the time. They fall all to pieces once they die, once the magic's gone, but until then, only way to know is to find the original."

"And you and me, we know that not everyone stuck over there has made their way back. Will ever make their way back. You fall for some cute girl, just a normal person who never got dragged through the thorns? Might be a patchwork doll made by Them over there. Only one way to know for sure. I've known people who can't handle the pressure, the not-knowing. Either they stop talking to folk who ain't part of the survivor's club, or they start killing everyone who might be a double or a clockwork soldier, and sometimes they get blood all over their hands and realize too late that this one wasn't from Fairyland."

"Then it's just a race to see whether it's Summer or Winter or the Market that puts them out of their misery."

"Alright, so most of them are messed up. Though, me, I'd get pretty mad at somebody that came along and tried to take over my life too. Anybody tried sayin to one of them 'y'know, you're better at being old me, keep at it, keep mom and pop company in their old age, I'll be over here doin my thing and we'll just say we're cousins if anybody asks about the resemblance."

He sticks his beak in the mug, slurps up a long gulp of tea.

"Now, you, MacDougall? Your double works with the mayor. That's all I know, sorry to say. We used to have some channels with Town Hall, but nowadays you have to go through Autumn to get anything done around there." There's a definite grumble to his tone there. "As for Natasha and Edward, they're both Summer hotheads. Jack Dusk," and there's definite disdain there, "the Summer King, always hosts a Christmas potluck for anyone who doesn't have a family to eat Christmas dinner with. Really, it's mostly just Summer down there. Food's good, nobody ever pulls a knife with Jack's eye right on them, and there are worse ways to get to know that court."

"Of course, back in the day, back in the day, we had parties. Glamour on tap, music to dance to, fairy lights dancing up and down the tent poles... the High King tasked us with reminding everyone why it was important that we left Fairyland. Why this world is worth keeping. That we've got beauty of our own. Spring! Smiling Jenny would give gifts, and they were always exactly what you didn't know you wanted. Now there's me, and there's Ray Hollack who runs the graveyard, and Riddleman John who keeps the north side of town, and young Elijah, and Luke at the school. And we keep the lights on, but not much more than that."

"Alright, so I'll pay a visit to the mayor's office sometime when things are quiet, maybe when they're all coming back after Christmas is done in a day or two. Anyway, I dunno who I want to side with here, but it sounds like tonight'll be a good time to meet some people in ways that don't involve stabbing and clawing. Sounds like I'm up for a potluck, anybody else want to come?"

"Sounds nice," Bethanne said, mentally imagining this fairy lights party of glamour- something along the lines of a Disney princess wedding and a Broadway musical finale. "What's stopping you having those kinds of parties again? Just because the king is de- missing, you can still have your traditions, no?"

"What's between you and this Jack Dusk? You clearly don't like him." She brought her cup to her face and then stopped herself. "Why did you spit in the tea?" she asked, bluntly.

Ears suppresses a chuckle at Bethanne's last question.

Thanqol

2016-09-13, 07:51 PM

So much talking. I've said my bit. I just sit and observe, eyes out for lies or danger.

Raz_Fox

2016-09-15, 12:26 AM

"Sounds nice," Bethanne said, mentally imagining this fairy lights party of glamour- something along the lines of a Disney princess wedding and a Broadway musical finale. "What's stopping you having those kinds of parties again? Just because the king is de- missing, you can still have your traditions, no?"

"What's between you and this Jack Dusk? You clearly don't like him." She brought her cup to her face and then stopped herself. "Why did you spit in the tea?" she asked, bluntly.

If you shotgun three questions at a man, one of them might slip by. The question about what, precisely, is stopping the Court of Spring from having wild parties goes, for the moment, unaddressed. Instead, he starts with the answer to the last question. "Because I'm magic. We're magic. It's second-hand loophole and party trick magic, for the most part, but ain't nobody comes back from Fairyland that doesn't have a bit of magic sticking to them."

"Over there, magic flows sweet as honey, common as dirt. You're recently back, you might remember some of it. Over here, not so much. Not too many ways to get the juice to make dreams come true. Staying up late and walking through folk's dreams. Going running through the Hedge and eating its fruit and drinking its water and hoping nothing too nasty comes out to eat you. Being around people who are feeling mighty strong emotions. All three of those ways have risks attached, though; the first two for you, mainly, the last one for the folk you're around."

"Some tricks don't even need more than a drop of juice. So I save on teabags and just let myself be surprised by whatever flavor the tea's gonna be today."

He takes a long sip, clacks his beak. When he starts speaking again, some of the enthusiasm has left his voice. Scratch that: a lot of the enthusiasm. No more enthusiastic tour guide, eager to help you new kids fresh off the thorns. He just sounds old and tired. (How old is he, anyway? Pretty damn. He was old when you all were just kids.)

"I don't want to be accused of dragging Summer's name through the mud any more than I might already have done, seeing as I'm a politician these days. Jack's... earnest. I'll say that. Hard to be around him and not know what his constituency wants. What he wants. What his predecessor wanted. And he's so brave, too. No cost too high if they get another big game trophy. Just remember that the rack of antlers nailed up in the barn came with a long price tag. If you ask Ray Hollack, he'll show you the graves that Summer bought."

"That answer your question, ma'am?"

Elanorin

2016-09-17, 06:53 PM

Anarion

2016-09-18, 02:08 PM

She was reluctant to admit it, but somehow, through the obvious distaste this birdman was showing for this Jack Dusk, Bethanne found herself actually looking forwards to this party.

"Pardon me if I don't share your love for surprises," she said and set her tea aside with a brief apologetic nod.

"Do you know anywhere we can stay? Anywhere... safe?" she asked, shifting uncomfortably in her seat as she left out a request for somewhere a bit more tidy. "It's pretty cold out, and money- well-" she tried to hide a blush and looked down, "I guess we need to find a way to get jobs somehow but... where to start."

"I want to buy the shoe store" Jack chimed in suddenly, his mind racing elsewhere with Bethanne's question. "Er, sorry, Bethanne, I didn't mean to interrupt, you just, it made me think about it since it's a big store and we could all probably stay in the upper floor if we got it all set up."

Thanqol

2016-09-18, 07:17 PM

Elanorin

2016-09-20, 01:36 AM

"I want to buy the shoe store" Jack chimed in suddenly, his mind racing elsewhere with Bethanne's question. "Er, sorry, Bethanne, I didn't mean to interrupt, you just, it made me think about it since it's a big store and we could all probably stay in the upper floor if we got it all set up."

Bethanne gave fox a stunned surprised look, her mouth open in silence for a moment before she spoke,

"I... I don't know anything about... shoes," she said, not sure what value she could offer to such an enterprise, though the thought of somewhere to live sounded very appealing.

"I'll take my chances with my family, no offense," I said, not exactly tempted by the prospect of squatting in a derelict building.

"Are you going to kill your double, then?" she asked Rickard, envying his confidence and certainty. She couldn't help but wonder if she was able to kill someone here, she had never thought herself able of killing anything larger than a wasp until she'd been taken. Still, being back here, it changed things. Somehow the notion of killing here was much more... severe. But then, wasn't this double really a part of that world rather than this one? Would killing her imposter really count as murder?

Thanqol

2016-09-20, 05:26 PM

"Are you going to kill your double, then?" she asked Rickard, envying his confidence and certainty. She couldn't help but wonder if she was able to kill someone here, she had never thought herself able of killing anything larger than a wasp until she'd been taken. Still, being back here, it changed things. Somehow the notion of killing here was much more... severe. But then, wasn't this double really a part of that world rather than this one? Would killing her imposter really count as murder?

"Well, my first instinct is to lock it up but I ain't got an earthly idea how practical that'd be," I said. "It sure as hell can't run free though. Even if it was just straight up me from five years back I don't think I'd think much different."

Elanorin

2016-09-21, 04:08 PM

"Well, my first instinct is to lock it up but I ain't got an earthly idea how practical that'd be," I said. "It sure as hell can't run free though. Even if it was just straight up me from five years back I don't think I'd think much different."

"Oh..." Bethanne said, then opened her mouth to continue the questions further but after a few seconds of open-mouthed silence she closed it again and decided against it. He probably knew all kinds of stuff she didn't. Asking more question would just make her look more stupid.

Anarion

2016-09-21, 04:52 PM

Ears just shook his head slightly at Rickard's intent to rip his own double out of his life. Privately, he figured Rickard might wind up in a jail cell and wouldn't that be hilarious, but he didn't really wish ill on him, so he just kept his mouth shut and waited for Jeremiah to respond.

Raz_Fox

2016-09-23, 11:10 PM

"Places to stay are always trouble," Jeremiah says, with what is probably thoughtful slowness. "I can talk with Sue who runs the King's Arms, get you a week or two free at the motel. It's not as safe as might be liked, no, not at all. Too thin. Too many people coming and going, and not just from this side of the fence. But it's the best we've got at present."

"You mention me to Sue tonight, she'll give you a key, no questions asked. Just try not to break anything. I know it might be hard- trust me, I went through this same as you. You're back and the world's gone all crooked since you left it. Just be strong. You came out for a reason."

He waves at the door idly and it creaks open on slow hinges: a silent invitation to leave if you're done with the talking.

Anarion

2016-09-23, 11:29 PM

Have you ever met someone new and spent hours talking with them, chattering about this, that, and the other thing, only to walk away the next day and feel like you don't actually know anything about them? That's how ears feels now as Jeremiah pretty much summarily dismisses the group. Sure, he's got a name to drop for a cheap room, and a faction for the party tonight, sure, but it's like the whole thing was tidbits, a little knowledge without really knowing anything. And he doesn't feel like he knows this new Jeremiah at all. It's all mysteries and nostalgia instead.

So, he slumps a little, starts to head out of the place, resolves to meet as many people as possible at the party tonight and especially this other Jack who's using his name.

Thanqol

2016-09-25, 07:22 AM

"Thank you for the hospitality," I say on account of being raised right and then go and make my way along.

Elanorin

2016-09-25, 12:08 PM

Well, Bethanne was already itching for this party so the door opening was enough to make her brush off and stand up. She waited for the other two to head out first and just held back a moment to enquire if the old birdman happened to know anywhere she could secure a dress suitable for this evening. With that little matter out of the way she thanked him for his time (but not for the tea) and left and hurried to catch up with the other two.

Raz_Fox

2016-09-26, 11:01 PM

Anarion

2016-09-27, 02:20 AM

A'right, so. Party's at the Sunshine Ranch, third exit out of town and then take a right, that's a decent hike or not too long of a car trip. Do you have plans for getting there, or are you just going to hoof it?

It's starting to get dark. Sky's gone grey, cold. Color of the sea at winter.

Best get going or go home. Not that you've got a home to get to, poor lambs.

If the choice is straggle in like a bunch of beggars or catch a cab, Jack will call a cab. We're not paupers here (well, he's not and that's good enough), and it would be nice to show up looking reasonable, even if our dish for the potluck is a store bought pecan pie grabbed in a rush at the only market still open before dinner. If it's a nice day with just a little looming gray sky and no threat of snow just yet, I've got no opposition to a nice country stroll.

Either way, the aim is to arrive looking reasonable, for what that's worth.

Raz_Fox

2016-09-28, 11:30 PM

Here we are. Sunshine Ranch.

Cab driver's thoughtful enough to take you all the way into the ranch. Ain't hospitable to man or beast out there, nosir. Snow's coming down again.

(Somewhere out there, Rikard, there's a black wind that remembers you. Might hear it when you get out of the car, floating high on the wind, miles distant. A storm coming again.)

So there's a handful of buildings at the end of the ranch road, where the cab pulls up. What look like two farmhouses, forming two sides of a square. The third side, an open-walled shed, tarps and planks and crates. Fourth side of the square, there's a barn, and it looks well-lit. Music coming out of it, faintly; closed doors. Should be some folk here tonight, judging from the number of cars and pickup trucks parked around the square.

So here we are, the three of you, and me, just watching you as you go and knock on the barn door. Which one of you was it, I wonder? Jack, with your store-bought vittles? Bethanne, the transformation hitting you as you walk from cab door to barn door, the night's gentle kiss pressed against your forehead, turning you into a bon-a-fide stunner? Rikard, with your gun sitting all eager in your hand, saying: hey, brother, you might need me tonight. You just might need me.

Well, whichever one of you it was, here's how it is:

Inside of the barn's what looks like the oddest community hall ever known to man. Bunch of wooden tables, all rivets and planks and benches, looking like they were made to be folded up and put away when not out with plates and cans of beer on top of them, all in the center of the barn, and in the middle of the whole barn, a circle where there ain't any tables nor chairs neither. The circle's been painted in, a gold disk with rays running in every which direction around it. It ain't actual gold, not if I'm any judge, but for just a moment it sparkles shiny enough to fool anyone. There are more of the tables stacked up by one wall- a lot of 'em. Come to think of it, this place could hold a lot more tables than it actually does right now. It's a bit sparsely attended, actually, only five tables or so, and only a few places at them taken. One of the tables has a bunch of crockpots and pans and bowls on it, and a ham right in the middle of the table, already partially carved. Next to that table are a few coolers: Budweiser cans and Coke bottles on ice.

Lockers line one wall of the place entire, on your left as you're coming in. Lockers and drawers and filing cabinets, all snug up against each other. Some locksmith probably made a killing providing all of those keys. There's what looks like an entire forge built into the other wall, connected to the chimney, and all around it barrels, and ingots of metal, and tools. Not all of those tools look entirely like what you'd expect- there's one made out of glass that's all undulations, and there's one with briars eating away into the handle, and there's one that looks something like a duck's beak made out of stone, hung up next to your everyday tongs and hammers and awls. And right in front of you, on the other end of the hall, across that circle in the floor, there's a stage with a podium, and that stage's got swords hammered into its rim: fairy swords, ones that look like long thorns and needles, with hilts like quicksilver molded about the handle. At least a good dozen of 'em.

On the rafter above the podium, someone's nailed a head: a grotesque head, more long equine skull than face, with huge awful stag's horns sprouting from it. The neck stump's ragged, pickled over, clotted and pustuled. And nobody else seems phased by the grisly sight.

See, they're a sight too busy being phased by you.

People's heads turn as you walk in. Some of them look just like you or- well, sorry, that's a turn of phrase you can't use anymore, isn't it? Sorry. Some of them look like normal people. There's an older gentleman in a ridiculously tacky Christmas sweater, the sort that has weird pixel-patterned reindeer on it. There's what looks like that homeschooling family from down the road a ways, all seven of the kids, the mom discreetly nursing the baby under a stained blanket, and the father, there, looking like a kestrel-headed Horus in denim and corduroy.

All right, not everybody's normal: some of them have obviously waded through the Hedge a time or two. Like, there, the woman in the wheelchair, looking at the world from behind ornate glass-and-brass lenses, and behind her, a titan in brass and steel and clock-parts, seven feet if he's an inch, his face an impassive Olympian mask. There, by the stage, fiddling with speakers, two hunched-over figures, one of them obviously Eddie even from this distance, the other one small and hunchbacked and dragging a lizard's tail behind it. Not Nats. She's deep in conversation with one of the homeschooling kids, cooing over the kid's nail gloss and ruffling her hair.

And, talking with the homeschooling mother, there's a well-built man in a buckskin jacket with a shaggy black dog's head, thick dreadlocks spilling over his shoulders. A crackling wreath of burning branches floats a few inches above his head. Hell of a fire hazard. He looks up when you lot enter, his eyes quite literally shining like low-beam headlights, and looks you over. Conversation lulls and dwindles, fizzling out.

Quoth Nats, after a moment of dead silence, looking up to see you: "Oh, hey, it's the folk I mentioned earlier. Y'know, the ones that seemed like they were-"

The man with the dog's head cuts her off; his voice is a deep, sonorous bass that's just a bit twisted, coming out of a dog's throat. He points directly at you, Jack, and his other hand's at his belt, and the gun sitting pretty there. "The **** you think you're doing back here?"

Jack, you've got no clue what he's talking about, but he's clearly angry and two seconds away from pulling a gun and very, very intent on you, personally.

Rikard, most of the people in this place are packing heat. It's one you vs. a lot of them, but they're clearly the aggressors here and your gun's trilling in your hand that you've got two stupid-ass civilians right next to you who are going to go down like punks when the shooting starts if you don't get them out of harm's way. And it's going to be shooting. Because that's always the way, isn't it? You know this number.

Bethanne, you are pretty as hell and the food in here smells really good and a man who looks like he's the magazine-supermodel version of the Beast (and has a crown of burning thorns over his head for some reason) is yelling at Jack.

Fire away.

Or should I avoid saying that? Bad luck and all.

Thanqol

2016-09-28, 11:59 PM

There's a rule that cowboy heroes have - never be the one to draw first. Wait for the bad guy to start to draw and then beat him to it. A game of seconds, reflexes and instincts. I ain't good at living by that all the time, specially not recently, but I'd like to try to.

I look around, thinking of myself like I just walked into a saloon that turned bad. It's an attractive image, to be totally honest with you. Like I'm in a movie like when I was a kid. Even with everything on a knife's edge this is the most alive I've felt since I got back here.

Ain't no fancy words gonna get anyone out of this one. We're dealing with anger and potential violence. The only way to get a lid on this is to promise that the violence isn't going to go the way anyone thinks.

I step in front of the fox, hand above my gun, and I stare the room down.

Elanorin

2016-09-29, 04:41 PM

"Wait!" Bethanne called out and reached out a halting hand as if it could somehow stop bullets. In an instant her heart was racing, adrenaline pumping and her breaths were reduced to fast and shallow sips of air. Her eyes were fixed on the man with the burning crown and, hell, even though he was threatening fox and she was on full defensive, that voice sent tiny shivers through her fur.

"We came here believing we'd be welcome," quick glance to Nats, and yes, it was brief but obvious; I will ****ing get you for this, before returning to the Beast, "If that's not the case, then, we'll leave and I offer my apologies for intruding on your festivities." It was amazing how clear and confident her voice spoke, it still took her by surprise, every change.

Raz_Fox

2016-10-01, 12:12 AM

Right. Rikard: that's going to be Presence+Intimidation, and throw your specialty in. Catch those headlight eyes and stare down a room full of armed folk: that's what you do best.

Bethanne, go ahead and roll Presence+Persuasion, and throw your Striking Looks in. Let's see how much of a stir you make.

Thanqol

2016-10-01, 12:20 AM

Elanorin

2016-10-01, 02:18 PM

Bethanne, go ahead and roll Presence+Persuasion, and throw your Striking Looks in. Let's see how much of a stir you make.

Spending 1 Glamor to only need 3 successes for Exceptional Success, 9/10 remaining (assuming this roll benefits from my appearance)
2+5+4 = 2,5,8,1,9,4,6,1,9,4,4

Anarion

2016-10-02, 01:25 PM

Ears's got a lot of stuff coming at him here. Bethanne and Rickard stepping up, trying to make a big show to the room, each in their own way. The whole room was packing (though really, this is small town America, that wasn't even all that weird, I mean, c'mon). And then dreadlocks Anubis here (who was probably other Jack, but we're going with Anubis because, again, c'mon) who was pulling out all sorts of god only knows what horse **** about coming back.

First instinct: eyes wide, ears down, tail up for balance, scamper the hell out of the way lickety split. But that wasn't gonna do anyone any good. And there was a part of Ears' panic that rode over even his fear of getting shot. It went something like this: I can't run. If I run, if I so much as start running, they'll chase. They'll chase, and then the dogs'll start chasing, and then the Hunter and I'll find out I was never really out. Can't run. Can't run. Can't run, if I start running I won't ever stop. Can't run.

So that option's out. Fight's just as bad, don't wanna fight. And Bethanne, bless her heart, was just gonna get them all out, but Ears had seen folks like Anubis here, and he'd probably just fix on them being not welcome and call her bluff on just turning and leaving. Make himself look a little mean, sure, but folks knew he was mean, respected him cuz he was mean, expected him to be mean. You could see it in his eyes (y'know, past the headlamps) that he took bein mean as his job.

So, Ears takes a little ginger step out from behind Rickard. Holds out his pie like it's a sacred talisman to be used in a holy ritual. I mean, it is, so he's at least doing it right. But anyway, holds out his sacred pie, takes another step out so he's fully visible, and he's thinking that maybe there's more than one bluff to be called here tonight. "Got no clue what're you're talking about, y'know, but uh, Nats there invited us..." quick glance to Nats, not with Bethanne's "oh screw you," more of a "back me up here, pal" included, "...and we brought pie, if you don't mind me setting it down." And then he takes another step, slowly, trying to calm down his twitching tail, headed towards the food table to put his pie down.

Raz_Fox

2016-10-02, 11:28 PM

I like that name, Jack. Hope you don't mind if I steal it for just a bit; it takes some of the bite away from this hulking man with fire hovering above his head. Dreadlocks Anubis it is. And Dreadlocks Anubis seems to be in something of a vice, clamped down on his hand which hangs dangerous above the hilt of his weapon.

(Yes, I know guns don't have hilts. Roll with it.)

See, there's a hard man standing here, promising with his monochrome eyes that the first person to go for their gun will die, and maybe the second, too. That's language that is understood within this barn. He's an unknown quantity, and that's enough to make folk pause before starting a damn foolish fight.

And then the one-two punch to the emotions that is Bethanne stepping forward, by all that's holy, that's enough to get anyone to stick their tails between their legs and apologize. Should be, right? You're standing there looking like a queen, terrible and beautiful. (Is this your real face, or the fake one? Or are they both real, like the moon? Do you think they'll say the same when they find out?) Stands to reason that Dreadlocks Anubis should relax, apologize, be all bashful and offer you some free beer to apologize.

But Jack, you're right, too: this man, whoever he is (most likely Other Jack, let's be honest, he's standing there with a literal magic crown over his head), he has to be mean, professionally. For a job. He's caught all up between his jobs and the cold metal of Rikard's eyes and the Queen that just swept into his barn and told him off. He looks to the side, looks off to someone else wheeling up next to him: a silent plea to get him out of the ditch he's just dug himself into.

So, wheels-woman. I mentioned her above, yeah? Late thirties, a festive Santa Claus blanket draped over her legs, and glass lenses over her eyes that seem bolted straight to her skull: too tight against the face to be natural. The lenses are opaque in the light, only showing reflections of wherever she turns her head: look, look close, you can see yourself in there, three stragglers and a pie. Behind her, pushing the wheelchair forward, is a vast clockwork automaton with a mask for a face, silent.

"Sorry," she says, and the apology's not directed your way. She raises one thin hand, adjusts a lens - like an optometrist. A, or B? She doesn't elaborate on, exactly, why she should be sorry, which is always irritating, right, when other people have an understanding about things but don't let the new folk in on what's going on. "Look. Either Ashfinger's back, which- no offense- you look somewhat small to be the High King returned. Or he's not, and we have guests to serve. Get on one knee or offer them a beer, your majesty."

Dreadlocks Anubis lets his hand relax, runs his other hand up over his forehead, tracing back along the ear. His shoulders are still tensed, and I wouldn't make any sudden moves at him, but y'all can step into the barn without getting pelted with bullets, if you want. Or you can walk out. Your choice.

Nats looks absolutely baffled by everything that's going on, and vaguely affronted that anyone would blame anything on her.

Oh, and Bethanne? That does indeed look like an Exceptional Success.

Since conditions are strange and arcane things, I'll just tell you straight up: next time you talk to the Summer King, you'll get whatever you ask for to the best of his ability to grant, and you'll mark a Beat for doing it.

Anarion

2016-10-03, 11:05 AM

Thanqol

2016-10-03, 06:16 PM

Weren't that simple? These folks scowl a big game but when I went travelling through the old country (Ireland) no bar would have backed down as easy.

But here go the talkers. Already the kid is starting to spew words like he ate a bad one. I'm just going to idle away from that mouth tornado and head directly towards wherever's serving the drinks. My totally bulletproof logic is that if I drink a bunch then I'll be able to get useful gossip from the 'tender - or at least make this evening go easier.

"My cup runneth dry," I say as I reach the coolers. "And the pretty lady I came in with ain't holding a drink yet neither," I add based on some unexamined instinct.

Elanorin

2016-10-05, 05:08 AM

Bethanne remained completely still, tension still in her spine, serious eyes still fixed on Anubis. Only her outstretched hand had relaxed back down, her shoulders were still square and her face held high. The room relaxed, as if everyone in it let out a collective breath, and movement and sound returned. Rickard moved off quicker and subtler than she'd seen him move before and fox slipped away to speak to the Summer King. Something inside her worried a little what fox was saying, how he phrased himself and if the threat was really over here, and as such she may have looked a bit like a statue stood among the resuming party.

Then, moments later, she shifted slightly, to face him more directly, and then she broke the gaze, casting her eyes down and making a slight respectful curtsy to the Summer King, which was really not much more than a tilt of her head to one side, and turned away, choosing to trust fox was safe.

There was righteous anger simmering in her chest and her eyes turned immediately to the source of it; Nats.

*

(Is this your real face, or the fake one? Or are they both real, like the moon? Do you think they'll say the same when they find out?)

I honestly do not know. I feel both myself, yet not, in either shape. By day I feel like the worst side of myself. Like all my bad traits and habits rush in and take over despite my best efforts to stave them off. By night I feel amazing, vibrant, strong, confident, the very best I have ever been. All the highlights of my life, all at once. I feel like I could rule the world. But it is a heady rush, like my mind is swimming in too much endorphin, in too much adrenaline, just one too many glasses of the very finest of wine, an amazing feeling, but not without the shadowed threat of an impeding hangover.

It is hard not to want to just sleep the entire day away, in wait for evening and all that the moon brings. As difficult as it might be during the day, the world around me is somehow more real and I have fought for reality too hard to waste it on sleep. And while night is amazing, I feel so free at last, I also taste the magic forced in to my mouth then, and I can still remember the smell of the hedge when the moon shines.

I think the closest I will ever be to who I was Before, is in that tiny moment as the sun sets or rises and the change is trembling through me. Where night and day meet and I am both and neither. For that brief moment my human face feels so much more real than at any other time, I sometimes wonder if, for that brief moment, it is my only one.

As for what they'll say when they realise my change by day... I don't know. I hope to find acceptance, somewhere. But... time will tell.

Raz_Fox

2016-10-05, 10:47 PM

Jack puts the pie down on the table, gingerly. Tension in the room is easing, so he lets his nerves relax a little, tail goes back to its normal position hanging down behind his pants, ears back up and perky, no twitches going on his face at the moment, teeth only very slightly bared in what he hopes is a friendly smile. Pie in place, he smooths out his shirt, composes himself a bit, resists the urge to lick his tongue and then run a hand over his head to catch any errant tufts of fur (that wasn't seemly in public) and lets out a breath he wasn't entirely conscious he'd been holding.

Then, some measure of composure returned, he walks over to Anubis. Not quickly, just, like, with purpose, if you follow my meaning. The kind of walk that, without saying a word, says "yeah, that sucked, like, for everyone, but it's only gonna get worse if we avoid each other, so let's just get this thing done now and pretend that we're all nice polite folks at least until we're in private." I realize that's a mighty specific statement for a walk, but I think Anubis there will get the gist of it.

So Jack walks over, puts out his little furry hand for a shake, and says "hi there. I'm gonna take a guess that you're Jack, King of Summer, is that right? It's a pleasure to meet you. My name's Jack, too, though I think I'd like to go by 'Ears' as a nickname. Dunno about this Ashfinger guy..." (let's all casually ignore the reference to Ears strongly resembling the missing high king, okay? Good) "...but no hard feelings, right?"

Anubis doesn't offer his hand. This close, he's actually kinda bright, what with the glowing eyes and the burning crown. Hard to look at, you know? And the more you talk, the more he starts to get this funny rumble in his throat, almost like he's coming to some conclusions he doesn't particularly like. Social convention is a shield, certainly, but if I were you, I certainly wouldn't want to go out back with this man alone.

Then he, oh-so-casually, glances over at your companions and straightens up, trying his best- from the looks of it- not to tear your throat out. Very kind of him. Very considerate.

"You have me right," he says, finally. "Jack Dusk. High King of Embrook. Means I do my best to keep people around here safe." His voice is like an idling car engine, one of the old ones that makes the car jump and vibrate when stopped. "You're awful well informed. New to town?"

There is no way this question is a trap, none. It's air-tight.

Weren't that simple? These folks scowl a big game but when I went travelling through the old country (Ireland) no bar would have backed down as easy.

Huh, that is funny, ain't it? Almost like they got some vested interest in making people feel welcome, outbursts aside.

Tell me: what's making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end? The big hound dog with the burning leaves over his head, who's listening intently (too intently) to Jack? The funny little man in the back with Eddie, who's sneaking glances your way in particular, and trying to make it look like he's not eyeing you up? The woman in the wheelchair and her personal giant, who are watching Jack dig himself down deeper in front of the affronted king? The head nailed above the stage, all rot and gangrene and antler? The hot tinge to the air, too hot for Christmas, making little trails of sweat trickle down your back?

It's gotta be something: this place is not safe. You know it. You are never wrong.

But here go the talkers. Already the kid is starting to spew words like he ate a bad one. I'm just going to idle away from that mouth tornado and head directly towards wherever's serving the drinks. My totally bulletproof logic is that if I drink a bunch then I'll be able to get useful gossip from the 'tender - or at least make this evening go easier.

"My cup runneth dry," I say as I reach the coolers. "And the pretty lady I came in with ain't holding a drink yet neither," I add based on some unexamined instinct.

The kestrel-headed Horus reaches down, grabs a can of Lite (and reaches up too fast with it, if he wanted to crack it over your skull-) and tosses it your way. "Until the ice coolers run dry," he says, his beak doing that some sort of nasty unnatural thing that Jeremiah's did, "whatever's in there is yours, soldier." He takes a can for himself, cracks it open, and starts pouring it into a mug with a long straw. Says "Samuel" on it, probably his name. "Soldier, right? You've got that look. I was in the National Reserve, myself, before I moved here."

There was righteous anger simmering in her chest and her eyes turned immediately to the source of it; Nats.

Nats is nonchalantly trying to extricate herself from the kids, scooting herself off towards Eddie. She may or may not be intending to lean on him if and when you start chewing her out over this. But- well, you're you. If you want to be there before she can scurry off, please, be my guest. Just- judging from the look on their mom's face, don't use more swearing in front of the kiddos, okay?

She looked about ready to commit regicide when Jack Dusk dropped that f-bomb in front of them, I tell you true.

Thanqol

2016-10-05, 10:57 PM

Huh, that is funny, ain't it? Almost like they got some vested interest in making people feel welcome, outbursts aside.

Tell me: what's making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end? The big hound dog with the burning leaves over his head, who's listening intently (too intently) to Jack? The funny little man in the back with Eddie, who's sneaking glances your way in particular, and trying to make it look like he's not eyeing you up? The woman in the wheelchair and her personal giant, who are watching Jack dig himself down deeper in front of the affronted king? The head nailed above the stage, all rot and gangrene and antler? The hot tinge to the air, too hot for Christmas, making little trails of sweat trickle down your back?

It's gotta be something: this place is not safe. You know it. You are never wrong.

They're all interesting. I mean that, getting to know these people strikes me as the same kind of practical as sitting down with a bunch of case files and known associates registers. If I had to finger one of them, though, it'd be the old lady. She's the sort who can make something happen without putting herself on the line.

The kestrel-headed Horus reaches down, grabs a can of Lite (and reaches up too fast with it, if he wanted to crack it over your skull-) and tosses it your way. "Until the ice coolers run dry," he says, his beak doing that some sort of nasty unnatural thing that Jeremiah's did, "whatever's in there is yours, soldier." He takes a can for himself, cracks it open, and starts pouring it into a mug with a long straw. Says "Samuel" on it, probably his name. "Soldier, right? You've got that look. I was in the National Reserve, myself, before I moved here."

"Dad was," I said, cracking the can. Lite beer is not my poison but I ain't going to turn my nose up. "Sniper, and a bit of a survivalist. Grandpa too. I'm just a cop from a real rough neighbourhood." Bluntness: "Who are these jokers and why the show?"

Anarion

2016-10-05, 11:11 PM

"You have me right," he says, finally. "Jack Dusk. High King of Embrook. Means I do my best to keep people around here safe." His voice is like an idling car engine, one of the old ones that makes the car jump and vibrate when stopped. "You're awful well informed. New to town?"

There is no way this question is a trap, none. It's air-tight.

Jack holds his hand out there. Long enough for it to be awkward. Because this is all about the awkward, isn't it? This is a man being unfair, leaping to every possible worst conclusion when, actually, for once to the surprise of everyone who knew Jack in his former life, he hasn't done anything wrong. Not a darn thing. Showed up, asked for shelter, chatted with some folks, tried to get to know some people in town, took some money out of his own bank account. Not a single goddamn thing wrong, nothing worth hiding, and here's the king of summer, talking about safety because of course a man with a gun who wants any excuse to do harm would talk about safety.

Hand drops, no shake, nothing cordial about it. Fine. "Jack, pleasure to meet you, really. I'm new back, but I grew up here, if you can believe it. I've been gone...a while. Stopped off at the museum to say hi to old Jeremiah today, see how things were doing, turned out that he's got a crow's head, who knew? Well, not me, right? But yeah, anyway, I asked him about town now that I'm, uh, different than I used to be, and wouldn't you know it, your name came up over the course of the conversation. He didn't give a description, but since this party's being hosted by Summer, and what with the flaming crown and all, I just sorta figured I could take a shot in the dark, y'know? I thought this would be a little more friendly party though, from what Nats said earlier. More ham, pie, and singing, less freezing the whole room to threaten the newbies. But what do I know, maybe it's just part of the welcome kit, right?"

Jack gives a little shrug, looks to see if any of this is having an effect on Anubis here at all.

I'm guessing this is a no, but is it worth asking about all those Door rules on old Jack here, and how Ears might convince him to be a little nicer? Or is this one of those initial impressions where the response to asking about a dice roll is a derisive snort?

She looked about ready to commit regicide when Jack Dusk dropped that f-bomb in front of them, I tell you true.

No jury in the land would convict her.

Elanorin

2016-10-06, 05:24 AM

Nats is nonchalantly trying to extricate herself from the kids, scooting herself off towards Eddie. She may or may not be intending to lean on him if and when you start chewing her out over this. But- well, you're you. If you want to be there before she can scurry off, please, be my guest. Just- judging from the look on their mom's face, don't use more swearing in front of the kiddos, okay?

She looked about ready to commit regicide when Jack Dusk dropped that f-bomb in front of them, I tell you true.

Bethanne was not inclined to cause a scene in front of a bunch of children (besides, it's Christmas for goodness sake - she's not a monster, oh wait, well, anyway) nor give Nats any chance of rallying an ally to her, especially not an overprotective mother. She was less concerned about Eddie, perhaps foolishly so. She really wanted to catch Nats on her own though and moved to intercept her halfway.

Wherever she caught her she immediately got right up in Nats face and growled, "This 'invitation' was, at best, a sick joke," she snapped. "For your sake it better not have brought us any real danger."

Hand drops, no shake, nothing cordial about it. Fine. "Jack, pleasure to meet you, really. I'm new back, but I grew up here, if you can believe it. I've been gone...a while. Stopped off at the museum to say hi to old Jeremiah today, see how things were doing, turned out that he's got a crow's head, who knew? Well, not me, right? But yeah, anyway, I asked him about town now that I'm, uh, different than I used to be, and wouldn't you know it, your name came up over the course of the conversation. He didn't give a description, but since this party's being hosted by Summer, and what with the flaming crown and all, I just sorta figured I could take a shot in the dark, y'know? I thought this would be a little more friendly party though, from what Nats said earlier. More ham, pie, and singing, less freezing the whole room to threaten the newbies. But what do I know, maybe it's just part of the welcome kit, right?"

Thank goodness Bethanne is otherwise distracted from hearing any of this or fox would have earned himself a brutal kick to his foxy shins.

Raz_Fox

2016-10-08, 12:22 AM

"Dad was," I said, cracking the can. Lite beer is not my poison but I ain't going to turn my nose up. "Sniper, and a bit of a survivalist. Grandpa too. I'm just a cop from a real rough neighbourhood." Bluntness: "Who are these jokers and why the show?"

"Dad was a sniper, you're- of course, should have known. You're a Rothbrook." There's some disdain there, definitely. Not the sort of reaction you might have hoped for. "For your information, we do more to keep this town safe than your crooked family ever did. I've got scars from literal nightmare monsters, and what does your brother do? Arrests people on fake drug charges. Real town hero, there."

The implication in his voice, the nastiness there, is that someone close to him got arrested by Sven, not that your brother's the talk of the town. Still. It's been a while, who knows what Sven's up to these days?

Want to pry more into what's going on in this barn, or what happened with Sven, or do you want to throw your drink in his face and start a fight? Whatever you want to do, it's yours on this magical Christmas night.

Hand drops, no shake, nothing cordial about it. Fine. "Jack, pleasure to meet you, really. I'm new back, but I grew up here, if you can believe it. I've been gone...a while. Stopped off at the museum to say hi to old Jeremiah today, see how things were doing, turned out that he's got a crow's head, who knew? Well, not me, right? But yeah, anyway, I asked him about town now that I'm, uh, different than I used to be, and wouldn't you know it, your name came up over the course of the conversation. He didn't give a description, but since this party's being hosted by Summer, and what with the flaming crown and all, I just sorta figured I could take a shot in the dark, y'know? I thought this would be a little more friendly party though, from what Nats said earlier. More ham, pie, and singing, less freezing the whole room to threaten the newbies. But what do I know, maybe it's just part of the welcome kit, right?"

Jack gives a little shrug, looks to see if any of this is having an effect on Anubis here at all.

Oh, it's having an effect. The effect is called, you already embarrassed this guy in front of everyone who looks up to him, and now you're trying to talk circles around him, and it's working, but he hates it. Like, really hates it. The two changelings next to him seem intent on you, watching you without comment- and it's a bit eerie being watched by the lady in the wheelchair, right? No way to tell if she's blinking or not, looking up at you.

From this distance, it's easier to tell that she's your age, almost. She's not a withered crone, just a young woman in a wheelchair with a habit of leaning forward with a crick in her neck, bundled up in blankets and a sweater and a scarf. And she's got the slightest frown on her face.

Before the king can speak again, she clears her throat. "It is good to meet you, Jack. The pleasure is all ours. You will forgive us for being jumpy: you understand that according to our Rights as free people, we bear arms. It is part and parcel of being free and staying free. The things that would hurt us strike in the dark, without much warning at all. A bit of jumpiness can save lives, but it can also make for," she laughs, and it's just too slightly chipper to be a real laugh, "awkward situations. When you have a Huntsman hammering on your door, you'll remember us and think to yourself, goodness, I'm glad that the High King and his posse are armed and ready to back you up. I'm sure that once you've settled in, all this will be a funny story to tell the new Changelings you meet."

She seems to think for a moment, and then adds, "Oh! Since we're on the subject, what do you intend to do to settle in?"

Jack Dusk tosses you a can of Lite after she says this, and isn't particularly concerned with whether you catch it or not. He's not, like, actually aiming at your face. Worst that's likely to happen if you fumble it is getting smacked in the collarbone with a can of beer and looking like an idiot in front of people while he does just his best to be nice to one of his guests.

I'm guessing this is a no, but is it worth asking about all those Door rules on old Jack here, and how Ears might convince him to be a little nicer? Or is this one of those initial impressions where the response to asking about a dice roll is a derisive snort?

This is indeed a really bad initial impression for Jack, yeah. You'd need to spend quite a bit of time in his company- the sort of time that you don't get unless you actually join up with this strange barn commune society- if you wanted to start prying open his doors. (Or just ask Bethanne, apparently.)

That said, you've got a chance to get a good initial impression with the wheelchair woman here. Not that it matters, really. What's the worst that a woman in a wheelchair could do, right?

Bethanne was not inclined to cause a scene in front of a bunch of children (besides, it's Christmas for goodness sake - she's not a monster, oh wait, well, anyway) nor give Nats any chance of rallying an ally to her, especially not an overprotective mother. She was less concerned about Eddie, perhaps foolishly so. She really wanted to catch Nats on her own though and moved to intercept her halfway.

Wherever she caught her she immediately got right up in Nats face and growled, "This 'invitation' was, at best, a sick joke," she snapped. "For your sake it better not have brought us any real danger."

So you catch up to Nats while she's nearly at the stage, close enough that Eddie and the man he's working with are within easy earshot, even as they get some Christmas music playing over the speakers. This close, you can see the face of the hunchbacked man with the lizard tail, and it's not an easy mug to look at. It's like some some twisted child put a lizard, a rat, a parrot and a farmer in a blender together. His cheeks are mottled skin and scales, one eye's sunk into the cheek and the other's had its eyebrow burnt away, his teeth are too large for his thin lips, and the look he gives you as you come over, as righteously angry as you are, is the kind that construction workers famously give any woman who walks into their line of sight.

"Catfight," he says to Eddie, in a voice that is the smooth, slow jazz of people. He does not deserve that voice. That is a voice that belongs on a late-night radio station, announcing classical music pieces.

Nats, for her part, is backpedaling. "Hey, hey, I didn't know that the King was going to flip out like that. I wasn't even around when all that stuff happened between Summer and Autumn, right? I am an innocent here, you gotta believe me. I thought, hey, you're good at getting angry, black-and-white back there likes being grumpy and looking like everybody's dad, you might like getting to know us, and if you want to get mad, firstly, good, secondly, though, I'm not the person you should be getting mad at! Get angry at the bastards who... who..."

She looks at you properly for the first time since you came in. "Did you go to a salon between the library and here? You look hot."

Elanorin

2016-10-09, 05:06 AM

"Catfight," he says to Eddie, in a voice that is the smooth, slow jazz of people. He does not deserve that voice. That is a voice that belongs on a late-night radio station, announcing classical music pieces.

Bethanne was much too dogmatically focused on pinning any and all blame she could muster on Nats to dignify that with even a glance.

Nats, for her part, is backpedaling. "Hey, hey, I didn't know that the King was going to flip out like that. I wasn't even around when all that stuff happened between Summer and Autumn, right? I am an innocent here, you gotta believe me. I thought, hey, you're good at getting angry, black-and-white back there likes being grumpy and looking like everybody's dad, you might like getting to know us, and if you want to get mad, firstly, good, secondly, though, I'm not the person you should be getting mad at! Get angry at the bastards who... who..."

"Didn't you? Didn't you? Oh do tell me who I should be getting mad at, because I think you knew exactly what we'd be walking straight in to here. I think you like to pick the fights but leave it to people with actual backbone to finish them. I noticed you had banked yourself front seat for the show when we walked in. And-"

She looks at you properly for the first time since you came in. "Did you go to a salon between the library and here? You look hot."

Bethanne lost a bit of steam at the sudden and unexpected compliment. Being told you were hot by the one you were tearing in to was... not how things were supposed to go. "Drop it," she snapped, uncomfortably.

Anarion

2016-10-09, 03:16 PM

What's the worst that a woman in a wheelchair could do, right?

You're kidding, right? Tell me you're kidding. I mean, seriously, she could say mean things.

Before the king can speak again, she clears her throat. "It is good to meet you, Jack. The pleasure is all ours. You will forgive us for being jumpy: you understand that according to our Rights as free people, we bear arms. It is part and parcel of being free and staying free.

Jack nods along here. He can tell she's not done speaking, so he wouldn't be so rude as to interrupt, but she's struck the right note for him, and you'll get no disagreement from Ears here about the right of every individual to exercise their own freedoms.

The things that would hurt us strike in the dark, without much warning at all. A bit of jumpiness can save lives, but it can also make for," she laughs, and it's just too slightly chipper to be a real laugh, "awkward situations. When you have a Huntsman hammering on your door, you'll remember us and think to yourself, goodness, I'm glad that the High King and his posse are armed and ready to back you up. I'm sure that once you've settled in, all this will be a funny story to tell the new Changelings you meet."

She seems to think for a moment, and then adds, "Oh! Since we're on the subject, what do you intend to do to settle in?"

"Well, I-"

Jack Dusk tosses you a can of Lite after she says this, and isn't particularly concerned with whether you catch it or not. He's not, like, actually aiming at your face. Worst that's likely to happen if you fumble it is getting smacked in the collarbone with a can of beer and looking like an idiot in front of people while he does just his best to be nice to one of his guests.

Oh come now, Ears has great hands, of course he catches the beer can. I mean, sure, the sudden thing flying at him causes him to interrupt himself mid sentence with a very distinctive "waaah!" that's half panic and half chagrin, but he's got hands on the beer and runs a hand across his head to try to smooth down the fur that's suddenly standing on end.

beat

Ears opens the beer, takes a sip. Mostly like water, easy to drink, just as he remembers it. He'd have finer tastes, himself, something German maybe, but that was for later. Ignore other Jack, answer the question. "Well, actually, I was, uh, thinking about opening a workshop. I saw the old shoe store is out of business, and I thought, maybe, there'd be a way to get a hold of the place and set up. I was pretty into tech before I left and you might not guess it with these fuzzy things..." Ears holds up his fuzzy little paws with their black tufts of fur, "...but I'm actually pretty good with my hands, can fix and build all sorts of stuff."

Thanqol

2016-10-09, 11:37 PM

"Dad was a sniper, you're- of course, should have known. You're a Rothbrook." There's some disdain there, definitely. Not the sort of reaction you might have hoped for. "For your information, we do more to keep this town safe than your crooked family ever did. I've got scars from literal nightmare monsters, and what does your brother do? Arrests people on fake drug charges. Real town hero, there."

The implication in his voice, the nastiness there, is that someone close to him got arrested by Sven, not that your brother's the talk of the town. Still. It's been a while, who knows what Sven's up to these days?

Want to pry more into what's going on in this barn, or what happened with Sven, or do you want to throw your drink in his face and start a fight? Whatever you want to do, it's yours on this magical Christmas night.

Now, I've thrown punches to defend my brother before. I've also told lies to the force to cover for him. He's my brother and we can trust each other with anything. He may be bent but he isn't broken and family is important.

But I also understand he is what he is and that folks might have legitimate grievances against him. And why I might be a bit twitchy about danger I'm not so impulsive when it comes to starting brawls. I need to at least give folks a chance to back down. "So, friend, why don't we stop talking about each others families? Don't want to ruin Christmas with shop talk," I say in a positively friendly tone.

Raz_Fox

2016-10-10, 10:47 PM

The wind outside starts picking up- you can hear it through the thick walls, over the Christmas music, over the muted conversation of people trying not to stare at you three newcomers. It's warm in here, hot against the skin, but it's a reminder that night's out there, and if the snow piles up, you might not be heading back out of this barn til morning.

Not that that should be a problem, right? After all, you're among friends you haven't made yet.

Jack Dusk's ringtone is the preset on his little NOKIA phone, small enough to look slightly ridiculous in his large palm. He slips it out of the pocket of his jeans and steps away to take a call, leaving Jack (the fox one, to be clear) with the woman in the wheelchair.

"Didn't you? Didn't you? Oh do tell me who I should be getting mad at, because I think you knew exactly what we'd be walking straight in to here. I think you like to pick the fights but leave it to people with actual backbone to finish them. I noticed you had banked yourself front seat for the show when we walked in. And-"

Bethanne lost a bit of steam at the sudden and unexpected compliment. Being told you were hot by the one you were tearing in to was... not how things were supposed to go. "Drop it," she snapped, uncomfortably.

"Hey, I'll finish a fight, I just didn't want you to start a scene in front of abso-friggin-lutely everyone," Nats says, puffing up. Eddie, behind her, starts to mutter that, hey, there's no need to get mad, let's not fight, please, it's Christmas, but Nats ignores him. "But if you're calling me a liar, I will end you. You. Me. Outside. Right now. You wanna go? I'll go. Let's go. I'll kick your pretty face. I mean your ass. I'll kick your ass. And your face. I'll kick them both. Then I will drag you back in here and you will have a delightful time. Because it's Christmas and the ham is great. Seriously, you should try it. After I kick your ass. Which I will. Right now. Let's go. Bring it."

At some point in this rambling diatribe, she makes the critical mistake of shoving you back, Bethanne, and getting all up in your grill about it. Eddie looks mortified behind her, holding up one hand and making a face like he can't believe what she's doing, while Nats- who has a lot of muscle corded in those little arms, from the feel of it- is deadly serious about the threat to go fight you, apparently.

Ears opens the beer, takes a sip. Mostly like water, easy to drink, just as he remembers it. He'd have finer tastes, himself, something German maybe, but that was for later. Ignore other Jack, answer the question. "Well, actually, I was, uh, thinking about opening a workshop. I saw the old shoe store is out of business, and I thought, maybe, there'd be a way to get a hold of the place and set up. I was pretty into tech before I left and you might not guess it with these fuzzy things..." Ears holds up his fuzzy little paws with their black tufts of fur, "...but I'm actually pretty good with my hands, can fix and build all sorts of stuff."

The woman smiles, and it might even be an honest one. "Oh, you're a craftsman? That's wonderful! We've been artisans and smiths for the past- oh, since before I joined the Court. Everyone has their own niche- I work in crochet, Prommy here is a fantastic smith, we've been looking for someone who's good at glassblowing- we used to be known for it, back before- well, it's been a long time since we had anyone who could make the glass sing like Barty Gallows could, and if you want, I can show you later-"

She cuts herself off, before laughing self-consciously. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm rambling. Do excuse me. As I was saying, if you are skilled with making things, there's no better Court to help you than Summer, and no better cause. Our Court is sworn to defend the town of Embrook from everything that comes from the other side of the Hedge. The other Courts couldn't do anything if we weren't holding the line and casting all the flotsam and jetsam of Faerie back out. And God knows there's a lot of it. Clockworks, Huntsmen, dream-cats, bugbears, mites... this town wouldn't be here if not for us. Not that we get much thanks for it."

"Speaking of thanks, doubtless you'll be getting offers from the other two Courts. Spring does its best, it really does, but it's a mess from an administrative standpoint, nothing ever gets done. And Autumn is... well, between you and me, they're going to run this town into the ground if they don't start working with us, but that's just my opinion. And, goodness, I don't believe I've given you my name."

She offers you a handshake. "Penny. Vizier of Summer."

Now, I've thrown punches to defend my brother before. I've also told lies to the force to cover for him. He's my brother and we can trust each other with anything. He may be bent but he isn't broken and family is important.

But I also understand he is what he is and that folks might have legitimate grievances against him. And why I might be a bit twitchy about danger I'm not so impulsive when it comes to starting brawls. I need to at least give folks a chance to back down. "So, friend, why don't we stop talking about each others families? Don't want to ruin Christmas with shop talk," I say in a positively friendly tone.

Roll me Manipulation+Socialize at a -2, Rikard.

Thanqol

2016-10-10, 10:56 PM

Roll me Manipulation+Socialize at a -2, Rikard.

So, negative one dice then? *Rolls chance dice*

10. Well what do you know. I somehow managed to fail to pick a fight.

Elanorin

2016-10-12, 05:58 AM

"Hey, I'll finish a fight, I just didn't want you to start a scene in front of abso-friggin-lutely everyone," Nats says, puffing up. Eddie, behind her, starts to mutter that, hey, there's no need to get mad, let's not fight, please, it's Christmas, but Nats ignores him. "But if you're calling me a liar, I will end you. You. Me. Outside. Right now. You wanna go? I'll go. Let's go. I'll kick your pretty face. I mean your ass. I'll kick your ass. And your face. I'll kick them both. Then I will drag you back in here and you will have a delightful time. Because it's Christmas and the ham is great. Seriously, you should try it. After I kick your ass. Which I will. Right now. Let's go. Bring it."

At some point in this rambling diatribe, she makes the critical mistake of shoving you back, Bethanne, and getting all up in your grill about it. Eddie looks mortified behind her, holding up one hand and making a face like he can't believe what she's doing, while Nats- who has a lot of muscle corded in those little arms, from the feel of it- is deadly serious about the threat to go fight you, apparently.

"Lead. The. Way." Bethanne snarls getting just as much up in Nats grill in return, resulting in them all but standing forehead-to-forehead, teeth bared.

At her sides her hands flex, nails sharp. No one seems to bat an eyelid so if she had the wherewithal to think right now she'd probably deduce that this place was pretty used to bust ups. But her mind was on nothing else than teaching this kitty-cat a damn lesson and take her down a peg or two. Or five. I mean, why hold back, right? Perhaps it would make the rest of them think twice before drawing weapons against them too. This was not the senseless raging Beast facing Nats, it was the cold and calculating, yet equally brutal, Beauty. The King may have stood down for now, but she very much felt she had something to prove to Nats and to this Court in general. This was as good a place to start as any.

[Intimidation roll?]

Anarion

2016-10-13, 01:24 AM

The woman smiles, and it might even be an honest one. "Oh, you're a craftsman? That's wonderful! We've been artisans and smiths for the past- oh, since before I joined the Court. Everyone has their own niche- I work in crochet, Prommy here is a fantastic smith, we've been looking for someone who's good at glassblowing- we used to be known for it, back before- well, it's been a long time since we had anyone who could make the glass sing like Barty Gallows could, and if you want, I can show you later-"

She cuts herself off, before laughing self-consciously. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm rambling. Do excuse me. As I was saying, if you are skilled with making things, there's no better Court to help you than Summer, and no better cause. Our Court is sworn to defend the town of Embrook from everything that comes from the other side of the Hedge. The other Courts couldn't do anything if we weren't holding the line and casting all the flotsam and jetsam of Faerie back out. And God knows there's a lot of it. Clockworks, Huntsmen, dream-cats, bugbears, mites... this town wouldn't be here if not for us. Not that we get much thanks for it."

"Speaking of thanks, doubtless you'll be getting offers from the other two Courts. Spring does its best, it really does, but it's a mess from an administrative standpoint, nothing ever gets done. And Autumn is... well, between you and me, they're going to run this town into the ground if they don't start working with us, but that's just my opinion. And, goodness, I don't believe I've given you my name."

She offers you a handshake. "Penny. Vizier of Summer."

Jack takes her hand, shakes it firmly, grins like he was still a teenager instead of closer to age 65. "Jack McDougall, but I really would like to go by Ears, I think. And please, don't cut yourself off on my account. I love hearing about cool things people make. I feel like, like, ah it's so hard to come up with the words for it" Jack is moving his paws about after the handshake, grasping at air as if he'd pull the words right out of space somehow. "Like, making things is a special, gift, y'know? It's a thing inside you that yearns to be free, and folks with talent will look for places where they can put it to work." Jack grins with a little chagrin. "Speaking of, Vizier of summer, huh? That doesn't sound like a bad offer, though being back a day, I hope you can forgive me if I say maybe and want to wait to hear the ones from the others, even if it's just to confirm that they're not as good. But really, enthusiasm like that, it's a darn good sell and I'll remember it if you ever need a favor no matter who I sign on with, alright?"

Raz_Fox

2016-10-14, 12:48 AM

"Lead. The. Way." Bethanne snarls getting just as much up in Nats grill in return, resulting in them all but standing forehead-to-forehead, teeth bared.

At her sides her hands flex, nails sharp. No one seems to bat an eyelid so if she had the wherewithal to think right now she'd probably deduce that this place was pretty used to bust ups. But her mind was on nothing else than teaching this kitty-cat a damn lesson and take her down a peg or two. Or five. I mean, why hold back, right? Perhaps it would make the rest of them think twice before drawing weapons against them too. This was not the senseless raging Beast facing Nats, it was the cold and calculating, yet equally brutal, Beauty. The King may have stood down for now, but she very much felt she had something to prove to Nats and to this Court in general. This was as good a place to start as any.

[Intimidation roll?]

Hmmm. Well. Seems to me that an Intimidation roll would be made if you want Nats to back down. But you don't want Nats to back down, do you really? You don't want her to look at your trembling hands, giddy with anticipation, you don't want her to see how much you're chomping at the bit to wreck her six ways from Sunday, no.

If you want to go for six rounds, bare-knuckle, Nats points the way to a small sidedoor, scarred with strange runes and smeared with oranges and reds, a side-portal for this fortress. It leads outside, into the cold and the dark, and she'll lead the way, and Eddie will follow, poor dear.

And then it's you and her.

So if you want to intimidate her into backing down, Presence+Intimidation.

If you want to teach her who she should really be afraid of, go ahead and roll Strength+Brawl.

Jack takes her hand, shakes it firmly, grins like he was still a teenager instead of closer to age 65. "Jack McDougall, but I really would like to go by Ears, I think. And please, don't cut yourself off on my account. I love hearing about cool things people make. I feel like, like, ah it's so hard to come up with the words for it" Jack is moving his paws about after the handshake, grasping at air as if he'd pull the words right out of space somehow. "Like, making things is a special, gift, y'know? It's a thing inside you that yearns to be free, and folks with talent will look for places where they can put it to work." Jack grins with a little chagrin. "Speaking of, Vizier of summer, huh? That doesn't sound like a bad offer, though being back a day, I hope you can forgive me if I say maybe and want to wait to hear the ones from the others, even if it's just to confirm that they're not as good. But really, enthusiasm like that, it's a darn good sell and I'll remember it if you ever need a favor no matter who I sign on with, alright?"

"Good to hear it, Ears. I'm glad that you got pointed our way- to be honest, even though we open our doors to everyone in town who doesn't have family to share Christmas dinner with, as you can see, not many people have taken the offer this year. Years past, we've gotten at least a few members from Spring, one or two from Autumn, but..." She shrugs her shoulders, helplessly. Evidently, things have recently gotten chillier between these seasonal courts.

And here's Jack Dusk, moving with determination now that he's off the phone, past you and towards Rikard. "Wind, moving southeast, on us. Rider's on the scene. Prometheus, with me."

The colossus behind Penny moves, falling in step behind Jack. Penny looks somewhat startled, and one hand forms a fist by her side. "Well," she says. "Looks like we've got one Christmas present left, and it's a damned Huntsman."

So, negative one dice then? *Rolls chance dice*

10. Well what do you know. I somehow managed to fail to pick a fight.

Horus gives a long exhalation, rubs the back of his neck. He glances over at his wife, and their eyes meet, and he makes the choice not to press the issue. His stance settles into the passive, that of a man who is yielding his strength and isn't going to dive across the table at you. You know these things, just as you know that his name is Theodore MacDonald, and that he works as a surveyor for the local logging companies. Good man, in his way. Never gave you any trouble on the beat, the one or two times you met him.

"You're right. This is a night for remembering that the winter's going to be over soon enough, not... not old grudges." He offers one hand to shake. "Good to meet you again, brother. Name's Theo. Been back on this side long?"

The King of Summer interrupts before you've got more than a space to answer, coming up behind you. "Theo, you're coming with me. You, monochrome-" he claps a hand on your shoulder, "do you want to go hunting with me tonight?" He bares his teeth, but there's honesty behind the question. Maybe he doesn't want you to stay here if he's going hunting. Maybe he honestly wants you and your bleeding gun, all warm and excited in your hand.

Ball's in your court.

Thanqol

2016-10-14, 05:26 AM

Horus gives a long exhalation, rubs the back of his neck. He glances over at his wife, and their eyes meet, and he makes the choice not to press the issue. His stance settles into the passive, that of a man who is yielding his strength and isn't going to dive across the table at you. You know these things, just as you know that his name is Theodore MacDonald, and that he works as a surveyor for the local logging companies. Good man, in his way. Never gave you any trouble on the beat, the one or two times you met him.

"You're right. This is a night for remembering that the winter's going to be over soon enough, not... not old grudges." He offers one hand to shake. "Good to meet you again, brother. Name's Theo. Been back on this side long?"

"I've -"

The King of Summer interrupts before you've got more than a space to answer, coming up behind you. "Theo, you're coming with me. You, monochrome-" he claps a hand on your shoulder, "do you want to go hunting with me tonight?" He bares his teeth, but there's honesty behind the question. Maybe he doesn't want you to stay here if he's going hunting. Maybe he honestly wants you and your bleeding gun, all warm and excited in your hand.

Ball's in your court.

"Do you have a hunting license?" are the first words that come out of my mouth.

I mean. What my brain wanted to say is that it's negative a billion degrees out there and all I got is this damn Mr. Rogers sweater and any deer will be huddled up miles from here and I'm not entirely comfortable leaving Ms. Bethanne alone here with all these weirdoes. But what my mouth says on big dumb reflex is 'do you have a hunting license' and now I got to front like that's what I meant to say because anything else is going to put me right back into the fistfight territory I just managed to squeeze out of, and even sticking the course isn't a sure bet.

Anarion

2016-10-15, 12:41 AM

The colossus behind Penny moves, falling in step behind Jack. Penny looks somewhat startled, and one hand forms a fist by her side. "Well," she says. "Looks like we've got one Christmas present left, and it's a damned Huntsman."

"Is this common? There was one last night too, chasing us when we got out of the hand. Rickard, black and white guy over there, he shot at it, and then we found some shelter, but, like, they can't come every night, can they?"

Elanorin

2016-10-16, 05:58 AM

Hmmm. Well. Seems to me that an Intimidation roll would be made if you want Nats to back down. But you don't want Nats to back down, do you really? You don't want her to look at your trembling hands, giddy with anticipation, you don't want her to see how much you're chomping at the bit to wreck her six ways from Sunday, no.

If you want to go for six rounds, bare-knuckle, Nats points the way to a small sidedoor, scarred with strange runes and smeared with oranges and reds, a side-portal for this fortress. It leads outside, into the cold and the dark, and she'll lead the way, and Eddie will follow, poor dear.

And then it's you and her.

So if you want to intimidate her into backing down, Presence+Intimidation.

If you want to teach her who she should really be afraid of, go ahead and roll Strength+Brawl.

Bethanne noticed Eddie following with amusement, what, was he to be Nats' second? Fine. Excitement and adrenaline was making her feel almost giddy as they left the busy barn. She'd finally get to do this, she'd been twitching ever since this afternoon with unresolved violence. She was looking forwards to this and it showed in her fast steps.

The cold and the dark mattered little, the moment she'd stepped out of the door she happily lunged at Nats with a snarl and without any further ado. No more damn talk.

[Rolling Strength+Brawl, plus resolving my Inspired condition to gain a Willpower point (and achieve Exceptional Success on 3): 1, 2, 4, 9, 5, 4, 9, 7, 1, 5 (so close... :smallsigh: )

Raz_Fox

2016-10-17, 05:39 PM

"Do you have a hunting license?" are the first words that come out of my mouth.

I mean. What my brain wanted to say is that it's negative a billion degrees out there and all I got is this damn Mr. Rogers sweater and any deer will be huddled up miles from here and I'm not entirely comfortable leaving Ms. Bethanne alone here with all these weirdoes. But what my mouth says on big dumb reflex is 'do you have a hunting license' and now I got to front like that's what I meant to say because anything else is going to put me right back into the fistfight territory I just managed to squeeze out of, and even sticking the course isn't a sure bet.

"Actually, yes. Go through the Sheriff's office and all. But hunting the servants of those damned fairies doesn't exactly need a hunting license. We're going to go kill something that can't die." He squeezes your shoulder- it hurts, a bit aching (still a bit under-the-weather from running around last night, after all), but it's doubtful he meant for it to hurt. "And anyone who hunts with me and can take orders with a cool head is good on my books. Yes or no. Can't stay long. This one rides the wind."

"Is this common? There was one last night too, chasing us when we got out of the hand. Rickard, black and white guy over there, he shot at it, and then we found some shelter, but, like, they can't come every night, can they?"

"No," she says, cautiously. "But also yes. There's always something here that shouldn't be. That's why we're here: to keep the fire lit and drive the darkness back over the Hedge. Huntsmen don't often show up in person, and when they do, it's trouble- and all our solutions with them are temporary. But it's what we do, because the alternative is rolling over and letting them take whoever they want."

"I'd love to keep talking, but I need to go attend to some business. Thank you for coming, little Jack: my apologies again for your unfriendly welcome. As long as you don't cause any trouble around town, you're good in our books."

As she wheels herself away, calling for someone named Hallam to give her a hand, the question remains: what exactly do these people mean by "trouble"?

Bethanne noticed Eddie following with amusement, what, was he to be Nats' second? Fine. Excitement and adrenaline was making her feel almost giddy as they left the busy barn. She'd finally get to do this, she'd been twitching ever since this afternoon with unresolved violence. She was looking forwards to this and it showed in her fast steps.

The cold and the dark mattered little, the moment she'd stepped out of the door she happily lunged at Nats with a snarl and without any further ado. No more damn talk.

[Rolling Strength+Brawl, plus resolving my Inspired condition to gain a Willpower point (and achieve Exceptional Success on 3): 1, 2, 4, 9, 5, 4, 9, 7, 1, 5 (so close... :smallsigh: )

[Okay, so. I rolled for Nats, using the Down and Dirty Combat rules, and: two 10-agains. 3 successes in total. Since you didn't get an Exceptional Success, it seems the dice have tossed a twist in this I wasn't planning on.]

Nats shucks off her coat right before you lunge at her, revealing a small and wiry frame, the physique of someone who was born to be a twig and has been doing serious workout routines ever since college. She takes a fighter's stance, and as you lunge forward, a huge, dark presence in the night, ready to swallow her up: she smiles.

You take her at the side of the head; she rolls with it, doesn't go down like a sack of bricks, but yowls, and comes in close. One- two- small gnat stings, compared to you, beautiful and terrible and- goddammit, she's still going, isn't she?

She has small hands, true. But she's also fast, and someone took the time to teach her how to fight hand-to-hand: how to take a punch such that it hurts, but doesn't put her down on the ground with the stars spinning over her head; how to swing with her hips, putting her weight behind a punch; how to keep you moving, constantly, reacting to her small side-steps and jabs rather than dominating the fight with your superior reach and power. You give her a magnificent punch right on the left side of her face, one that sends her sprawling and will definitely leave her with the mother of all bruises in the morning, but she rolls and bounces back up, hissing and spitting like a cat, and keeps going.

And the snow is turning to slush underneath you two, melting underneath her feet.

Finally, the two of you break, eyeing each other warily. She's got her hands up, like a prize fighter, and she's laughing like a crazy person. You've got aching little needle-pricks of pain all over, and I'd likely bet you're feeling like a bear that's been nibbled to death by a kitten. One more good punch would most likely knock you over on your ass. "Is that all you got?" she asks, trying to hide her own unsteadiness on her feet. "Hell, Eddie, I bet she should go join Spring and take up knitting and decorative crochet instead of running her mouth all over the place about how big and bad she is!"

Thanqol

2016-10-17, 06:02 PM

"Actually, yes. Go through the Sheriff's office and all. But hunting the servants of those damned fairies doesn't exactly need a hunting license. We're going to go kill something that can't die." He squeezes your shoulder- it hurts, a bit aching (still a bit under-the-weather from running around last night, after all), but it's doubtful he meant for it to hurt. "And anyone who hunts with me and can take orders with a cool head is good on my books. Yes or no. Can't stay long. This one rides the wind."

Oh, well that all seems in order then. "Sure," I say. Try as I might I can't actually find a reason to object to any of the things he's said. I do glance around for Bethanne but I don't see her or hear anything above all the talking. And that's got me a bit worried but I'm not sensing any sudden malice around me. I am a bit on edge now though.

Anarion

2016-10-17, 06:48 PM

"No," she says, cautiously. "But also yes. There's always something here that shouldn't be. That's why we're here: to keep the fire lit and drive the darkness back over the Hedge. Huntsmen don't often show up in person, and when they do, it's trouble- and all our solutions with them are temporary. But it's what we do, because the alternative is rolling over and letting them take whoever they want."

"I'd love to keep talking, but I need to go attend to some business. Thank you for coming, little Jack: my apologies again for your unfriendly welcome. As long as you don't cause any trouble around town, you're good in our books."

As she wheels herself away, calling for someone named Hallam to give her a hand, the question remains: what exactly do these people mean by "trouble"?

It's a good question.

Jack gives Penny a final smile as she goes on her way. Then stops, stays where he is, takes a sip of beer, decides it's okay, swallows the rest of it. He whistles to himself (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ED3UGIJTvV8) as he takes this excuse to shift over to a trash can near the side of the room, drop out the beer can (they probably didn't bother with recycling here, let's be real), and take stock of the place. It was a hell of a depleted room. Rickard and big Jack (that really wasn't going to do. How about quick Jack and tall Jack?) had gone out with their hunting party, which left the room much depleted. Bethanne was nowhere to be found, and for that matter neither were Nats and Eddy. Penny was off with her folks and Jack knew a social cue not to interrupt when he saw one. So, uh, who's left? Mom with her tykes? Anybody else even still in the room?

Elanorin

2016-10-18, 05:09 AM

You take her at the side of the head; she rolls with it, doesn't go down like a sack of bricks, but yowls, and comes in close. One- two- small gnat stings, compared to you, beautiful and terrible and- goddammit, she's still going, isn't she?

She has small hands, true. But she's also fast, and someone took the time to teach her how to fight hand-to-hand: how to take a punch such that it hurts, but doesn't put her down on the ground with the stars spinning over her head; how to swing with her hips, putting her weight behind a punch; how to keep you moving, constantly, reacting to her small side-steps and jabs rather than dominating the fight with your superior reach and power. You give her a magnificent punch right on the left side of her face, one that sends her sprawling and will definitely leave her with the mother of all bruises in the morning, but she rolls and bounces back up, hissing and spitting like a cat, and keeps going.

And the snow is turning to slush underneath you two, melting underneath her feet.

Finally, the two of you break, eyeing each other warily. She's got her hands up, like a prize fighter, and she's laughing like a crazy person. You've got aching little needle-pricks of pain all over, and I'd likely bet you're feeling like a bear that's been nibbled to death by a kitten. One more good punch would most likely knock you over on your ass. "Is that all you got?" she asks, trying to hide her own unsteadiness on her feet. "Hell, Eddie, I bet she should go join Spring and take up knitting and decorative crochet instead of running her mouth all over the place about how big and bad she is!"

Damn it felt good to fight. A good honest harmless punch-up in the slushy snow.

"All I've got?" Bethanne said, trying to scoff and only half succeeding, giving off something that sounded more like a choked bark. Her shoulder was sore as hell and promised to be like set in concrete in the morning. "I was just trying to help you reach this one tricky spot with your lovely tiny-winy little hands. I had an itch." She couldn't help the smile that was beginning to spread on her face, in truth, this was the first time she'd approached the feeling of fun in so, so long. It was an odd and alien feeling, but pleasant.

"Spring might be worth considering, if this is how 'Big Bad Summer' fights- by licking you." Bethanne grinned, smoothing some ruffled fur a little, "I must have been gone longer than I thought, time was you got treated to a dinner at least before anyone got that personal. You're a sweet little thing, but not my type."

Trashtalk was good, trashtalk was fun, hopefully it would last long enough for everything to be just a little less blurry.

Raz_Fox

2016-10-20, 06:18 PM

Oh, well that all seems in order then. "Sure," I say. Try as I might I can't actually find a reason to object to any of the things he's said. I do glance around for Bethanne but I don't see her or hear anything above all the talking. And that's got me a bit worried but I'm not sensing any sudden malice around me. I am a bit on edge now though.

This is the part that your narrator always gets lost in. The part that's stressful. The space between "we are going somewhere" and "we are in the cars and on our way." We'll move past it. Jack Dusk seems to be more comfortable now, less on edge: his deeprumble carvibration voice is calmly telling everyone what cars they're taking, who's pairing up with who, which shotgun shells to pick up.

You are offered a small package of bullets. (What do bullets come in? Boxes? Strips? What do the bullets of backwoods folk stay in? No matter: the container is nondescript. The bullets are not. When you get a look at one while the doors of the pickup are open, and the light's on, words in tiny print have been carved into the lead. The bullet is hot to the touch, like something that's been lying in the sun too long.)

Theo has the seat next to you, and he's got a hunting gun. Long-barelled, and the scope's been replaced by something's eye. It's made of glass, and does not blink, but it slowly rolls to look at you as you sit there, right on the edge of its peripheral vision. It's been chained down to the barrel with small, sturdy links.

Jack Dusk is driving. His burning crown has lowered itself to a low simmer, the color of dying embers. You didn't catch exactly when that happened.

The car's vibrations are killing your head. You've got a headache coming on like a bad hangover, like the morning after a woman you shouldn't have trusted, like waking up on concrete with blood in your mouth and your ankle cuffed to a pipe. Jack smells like sweat and wet fur, this close. Theo smells like burning metal. You can't breathe through your nose, all of a sudden, and the air's hot in your mouth.

"So how long have you known those two," Jack's asking, his eyes on the road and the sky. The wind's picking up against the windows.

It's a good question.

Jack gives Penny a final smile as she goes on her way. Then stops, stays where he is, takes a sip of beer, decides it's okay, swallows the rest of it. He whistles to himself (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ED3UGIJTvV8) as he takes this excuse to shift over to a trash can near the side of the room, drop out the beer can (they probably didn't bother with recycling here, let's be real), and take stock of the place. It was a hell of a depleted room. Rickard and big Jack (that really wasn't going to do. How about quick Jack and tall Jack?) had gone out with their hunting party, which left the room much depleted. Bethanne was nowhere to be found, and for that matter neither were Nats and Eddy. Penny was off with her folks and Jack knew a social cue not to interrupt when he saw one. So, uh, who's left? Mom with her tykes? Anybody else even still in the room?

Mom and the tykes, and she's trying to organize some of the older ones to clean up. It seems almost a normal family, come to think of it. Do they know that their dad's a beast-headed man? Do they understand what's going on here any more than you do? Strange times.

That said, there's still the hunchbacked man, looking balefully out from the side of the stage over the sparse room. Not that he's probably much for conversation.

This building was made for more people. It had to be.

The hunchbacked man looks at you and snickers. It's not a kind sort of snicker. Can there be a kind snicker, anyway?

Damn it felt good to fight. A good honest harmless punch-up in the slushy snow.

"All I've got?" Bethanne said, trying to scoff and only half succeeding, giving off something that sounded more like a choked bark. Her shoulder was sore as hell and promised to be like set in concrete in the morning. "I was just trying to help you reach this one tricky spot with your lovely tiny-winy little hands. I had an itch." She couldn't help the smile that was beginning to spread on her face, in truth, this was the first time she'd approached the feeling of fun in so, so long. It was an odd and alien feeling, but pleasant.

"Spring might be worth considering, if this is how 'Big Bad Summer' fights- by licking you." Bethanne grinned, smoothing some ruffled fur a little, "I must have been gone longer than I thought, time was you got treated to a dinner at least before anyone got that personal. You're a sweet little thing, but not my type."

Trashtalk was good, trashtalk was fun, hopefully it would last long enough for everything to be just a little less blurry.

"I- you- I don't- shut up, Eddie-"

"I didn't say-"

"What did I just say, Eddie? Gawd! Go ahead and take her side, why don't you? I swear, I don't know why we're friends!! Anyway, I know I'm not your- that's not important and why don't you go shove your head in a snowbank, in fact, I feel so strongly about this that I am now going to shove your head in a snowbank, right here, this one, get your head over here so I can shove it, I intend to do this right now!!"

She is now attempting to get you into a chokehold so that she can pull your face down to her level.

Go ahead and roll Str-or-Dex+Athletics-2.

Thanqol

2016-10-20, 11:12 PM

This is the part that your narrator always gets lost in. The part that's stressful. The space between "we are going somewhere" and "we are in the cars and on our way." We'll move past it. Jack Dusk seems to be more comfortable now, less on edge: his deeprumble carvibration voice is calmly telling everyone what cars they're taking, who's pairing up with who, which shotgun shells to pick up.

You are offered a small package of bullets. (What do bullets come in? Boxes? Strips? What do the bullets of backwoods folk stay in? No matter: the container is nondescript. The bullets are not. When you get a look at one while the doors of the pickup are open, and the light's on, words in tiny print have been carved into the lead. The bullet is hot to the touch, like something that's been lying in the sun too long.)

Theo has the seat next to you, and he's got a hunting gun. Long-barelled, and the scope's been replaced by something's eye. It's made of glass, and does not blink, but it slowly rolls to look at you as you sit there, right on the edge of its peripheral vision. It's been chained down to the barrel with small, sturdy links.

Jack Dusk is driving. His burning crown has lowered itself to a low simmer, the color of dying embers. You didn't catch exactly when that happened.

The car's vibrations are killing your head. You've got a headache coming on like a bad hangover, like the morning after a woman you shouldn't have trusted, like waking up on concrete with blood in your mouth and your ankle cuffed to a pipe. Jack smells like sweat and wet fur, this close. Theo smells like burning metal. You can't breathe through your nose, all of a sudden, and the air's hot in your mouth.

"So how long have you known those two," Jack's asking, his eyes on the road and the sky. The wind's picking up against the windows.

"Not long enough to trust them," I said, rolling the bullets around my knuckles, leaving the skin a little pink where they rest. Iron? It wouldn't be a nice twist if it turns out that iron scorches me now. That raises a lot of questions about just how much other-placeia I've taken in.

I roll down the window and nearly freeze my face off but at least I get a breath of air that isn't full of stink and testosterone. I have to close it after a second but that just brings the problem back with a vengeance. I hold my politeness for a minute but God is it bad and before long I just have to dare it and straight ask, "Now I ain't meaning to cause offense but I have to ask: have you bastards ever heard of soap?"

Thor and Odin I don't care if they blow me away on the side of the road if it stops me having to breathe their stench.

Anarion

2016-10-21, 01:13 AM

Mom and the tykes, and she's trying to organize some of the older ones to clean up. It seems almost a normal family, come to think of it. Do they know that their dad's a beast-headed man? Do they understand what's going on here any more than you do? Strange times.

That said, there's still the hunchbacked man, looking balefully out from the side of the stage over the sparse room. Not that he's probably much for conversation.

This building was made for more people. It had to be.

The hunchbacked man looks at you and snickers. It's not a kind sort of snicker. Can there be a kind snicker, anyway?

Alright, I'll bite. This is a lure, an old hunchback snickering, better come talk to him instead of getting to know the nice, kind family. But a snicker, well, there's no such thing as a kind snicker, no, snickers don't do kind, but there is such a thing as an interesting snicker. And this, this was interesting.

So Ears saunters over, grabs a soda on the way (one beer was enough, really, he wasn't very big), stands next to the hunchback and takes a sip and then starts it up. "So, pops, something tickling you, yeah? Maybe I got some ham on my face or somethin? Wanna let me in on the fun?"

Elanorin

2016-10-21, 02:47 AM

"I- you- I don't- shut up, Eddie-"

"I didn't say-"

"What did I just say, Eddie? Gawd! Go ahead and take her side, why don't you? I swear, I don't know why we're friends!! Anyway, I know I'm not your- that's not important and why don't you go shove your head in a snowbank, in fact, I feel so strongly about this that I am now going to shove your head in a snowbank, right here, this one, get your head over here so I can shove it, I intend to do this right now!!"

She is now attempting to get you into a chokehold so that she can pull your face down to her level.

Go ahead and roll Str-or-Dex+Athletics-2.

There was not a lot of resistance in Bethanne, partly because she now could not stop smiling (and smiling had an uncanny way of undermining angry fury) but partly because she really didn't want to resist another tussle. For some reason.

She would try to drag it out however, she wasn't going to go down in that snow drift without at least a token effort of digging her feet in to the frozen ground. It wasn't easy though, by the time Nats got a good hold on her she was already laughing despite herself, and she imagined they likely looked stupid, graceless and unimpressive. Thankfully there wasn't much by way of audience.

She wasn't entirely sure where it was coming from but by now the laughter was bubbling out of her mouth, through her fangs, utterly undermining her considerable strength.

If she did get the chance though, she was totally taking Nats down with her in to the snow.

6, 9
EDIT: Forgot the -2 so struck off the last 2 results]