Outside 49: I don’t remember what it looks like either

[bc56]

Spilaio smiles awkwardly back at Nim. "Let's just... Keep going." Unless prevented, she'll open the doors and slither down the stairs through the mirror.

[Morty]

[Dismal Swamp]

Damon and Mister Slash will both have received summons to the gloomy bog that seems to currently serve as the court of the King in Rags. The place is as quiet as always, though neither of them has been there yet. The King is nowhere to be seen for now. Nor is anyone or anything else; there's not even buzzing insects or crawling reptiles here.

[Recaiden]

The doors slam shut. The mirrors open.
The elf and the water-spirit cross through, and the three serpentine travelers climb one last set of stairs.
Outside, the not-sun shines in the licorice sky, till Prada sweeps clouds over it, bringing suddenly the cool of nighttime.

Just beside the high doorway is a roadside inn of the style found in the far south, where the mountain of life rests: low furniture, sliding doors, the lights always hidden around a corner somewhere.
It will be warmer inside.

[Deathkeeper]

[Far From Hevar]

Nim shivers, rubbing his hands against his arms.
"Thank you, Prada. Mmmm, chilly though. Oh, back to your old look, Prada? I sssstill don't think I'd ever get used to ssssshapesssshifting." he hisses cheerily as he slithers off towards the inn.

[bc56]

Spilaio nods with Nim's chilliness. She's also cold, and she's partly warmblood. It must be worse for him. She slithers towards the inn, picking up a little speed. "That looks like a good place to rest and keep warm."

[Zefir]

Spider Cave

The surgery-bedroom isn't locked, and Karl can go poke around. One of the rucksacks is filled with clothes, mostly sturdy trousers and light t-shirts, but there's other stuff in there too. A leather wallet, containing a Riverside driving license, a small amount of money and a photograph of a baby. A single-shot derringer. A six-sided dice with a casino's logo on the six. A plastic bottle, half filled with water. Finally, in the bottom of the bag, there's a set of keys; it looks like there's car keys and house keys on there.

Another rucksack is filled with technical books on engineering, hydraulics, robotics, programming, spider anatomy and mechanics, plus notebooks filled with sketches of spiders, hydraulics, and so on. There's also a scientific calculator with a cracked screen and a book on cooking.

The third rucksack has some camping supplies in it. A small folding barbeque, a packet of water purifying tablets, a ground-sheet and sleeping bag, a box of shotgun shells (but there's no shotgun here, and they don't fit the derringer), a ball of string, a glass wand that feels slightly hot, a packet of energy bars and three tins of corned beef. The wand needs a command word, or else it doesn't work, but there's a small notebook in the bag with only one word written on it- ebmalf. If Karl says that a small flame appears on the end of the wand- a candle, or a lighter maybe.

Spider Cave

KArl studies through the stuff when he get's to the derringer he just put's it in his bag. In his world there were no guns, but as he spend time here he got aware of them. Police, criminals and other people wear it and likly use it in a regular basis. That also makes him know that the shotgun rounds belong to another of those guns, thought he couldn't say it will be a shotgun.
First of Karl takes the shells and hides them somewhere else. He had some experience that leaving hostile stuff behind can be dangerouse later. He will geab the keys, but mostly because he assumes they might be usefull here. The drivers licence likly draws his attention as it has apicture of the person who these rucksacks belong to and who has the other gun at worst. When it comes to the wand he will also stash it in his 'inventory' or bagpack. Kinda nice to have some loot out of this, too.

When he is done hiding and digging through stuff he will turn back to the path that leads away from the cells. unless something happens

[Recaiden]

"You can hardly help it, coming from a material kingdom the way you do." Says the great cobra understandingly.

They accompany Spilaio down to the inn, whose door slides open obligingly. There's a roaring fire in the common room's sunken hearth, filling the place with a bright warmth and smokiness.
The Sigil-Decorated Innkeeper bids them welcome from behind his desk, waving one arm at each of them.

[Deathkeeper]

[Mirror of Hevar]

"Kingdom?" Nim doesn't remember slipping information like that to Prada. He does remember telling Prada about how mortal kings work in the nexus. And saying that Prada's scales look very royal. Which they do. He feels like he's only gotten more appreciative of that royal gold color. And maybe a little envious.
"We'll be needing rooomsss." Nim observes. He doesn't know if they'll need money for something like that.

[bc56]

Spilaio immediately slithers over to the fire and curls up atop her tail by it. She'd probably be perfectly content to sleep there, but no doubt there are better accommodations in the inn. She doesn't understand the concept at all, so she doesn't help Nim with the buying of rooms.

[Gnrlshrimp]

[Dismal Swamp]

Though he probably should've expected it, Damon is none too happy to be summoned to a swamp. A damp, smelly, rotten swamp.

He makes a disgruntled hissing as he stalks through the swamp, black flames flickering around him to keep the worst of this unpleasant place off him.

Quiet. Empty. Perhaps the King in Rags means to show off with a flashy entrance?

"You have sssummoned." He hisses, looking around. "And I have anssswered. What would you assk of me?"

[Recaiden]

Nim, it's obvious you come from a Kingdom, and not the Egg-lands, or the Hives, or the Outside, or the East, or anything like that. The way you look, the way you move, the malleability of your history when away from home, it all adds up to one thing.
"Yess, of coursse. Did you not know there were immortal kingss too, over ssuch realmss?"

"Yes, yes. How many rooms?"
No coin needed, no sir. Only the fact that should you sleep here, you will not dream.

[Earl of Purple]

Spider Cave

A young woman's photograph is on the driving license, with a bored expression. She's got dark skin, bleached blonde hair and dark green eyes. It might be out of date, however; the license is about three years out of date.

The staircase at the end of the corridor heads down, deeper into the gloom of this abandoned bunker. Whether it was a medical laboratory or a prison specialising in medical torture is hard to determine- so far, at least. At the bottom of the stairs, there's a trap. A tripwire across the bottom of the step, hidden in shadow. Stepping on the wire will activate a robot of a different, non-arachnid design. The robot has a domed head and stubby limbs covered in thick rubber. It is concealed in a booth under the stairs, just about visible from where the wire is set. An antennae on the robot's head will spin as it activates, the first sign of it powering up- if the wire is tripped.

If it isn't, and Karl and the skeletons avoid stepping on it, the robot remains motionless and deactivated, and the door at the bottom of the stairs can be opened, revealing a large office space with desks and filing cabinets, most of which have been pushed aside and cleared to make room for a crude robotics factory. There's nobody to be seen, just another giant spider- the largest yet; this one couldn't leave the room, it seems- lying on the floor, legs splayed. Somebody has been working on it recently; the plating covering its head has been removed, allowing a glimpse at the hydraulics and motors that power it- as well as the mass of circuits and chips that control its movement.

Dismal Swamp

Mr. Slash is also approaching. The bogeyman is of average height, wearing a battered old suit that seems a little too small, with fingerless gloves on his hands and a massive old coat hanging from shoulders to ankles. A battered grey fedora is pushed down on his head. His face, what little is visible between the upturned collar of the coat and the brim of the hat pulled low, is covered in scars, and his left eye is clearly made of glass. "An' I'm here, too. Swamps aren't me natural habitat, ye could say." As he speaks, Damon may get a glimpse into his mouth- despite appearing human, that's a major clue that the bogeyman isn't any more. Instead of teeth, pressed into his gums are shards of broken glass, glinting and sparkling in the light.

[Arkhosia]

[The Joining House]

Spoiler

Show

[The Joining House]

The ladies erupt with tipsy giggles. "Giiirl! Soldiering and hunting ain't nearly the same! What gave you that impression--"

"Now, now," Fidella interrupts her friend. "She wants to learn how, that's clear. Went and fell into one of Vots' traps, by chance. You should know that hunting and tracking aggressive things is about all the Frescots do, cept' when meat is lean or fishing season is in. So how about this. I know what she can wager."

The table leans in. Fidella eyes Blanche chummily.

"You can shoot, real fine, I bet. The soldiers usually can, at least passably. So how about you wager... shooting lessons. For our boys."

"Oh, gods, yes, some of them are just awful!" The ladies chirp agreement.

"Does that seem fair?" Fidella blinks her wide, wet, gorgeous eyes at Blanche and wrinkles her face with a smile. It doesn't show her teeth, but it draws attention to the dappling of white spots on her cheeks. "I promise I'll teach you our games and give you a fair shake."

The catgirl's ears wilt somewhat as the rest of the table bursts into laughter, a shy smile playing on her lips. The embarrassment fades when Fidella pipes up, drawing her in with a glimmer of interest. Blanche's eyes meet the Frescot's. "Shooting lessons, eh? Well, I like to think I've got some skill. Sure, why not. I'm game."

- - -

As fairly and honestly as Fidella intends to teach Blanche, it still doesn't stop her from ending up on the losing side of the table. Games of chance were never her forte, and it's been a long time since she's played something face-to-face. She's drinking just as much as her new company throughout too, and by now the effects are certainly showing.

"Gosh, I guess I’ll be stuck here helping y’all out, huh?" Blanche sighs, leaning on an elbow and pressing lightly against of the Frescots beside her. "Er, not that I’m uh, complainin’ or anything? I wouldn't mind helping Vots with his aim an’ posture, y'know?" She glances over at Fidella with a tipsy smile. ”And y’all ain’t bad company, that’s for sure."

[Morty]

[Dismal Swamp]

The King's entrance isn't particularly flashy. Or is it even an entrance? One moment, the King in Rags is simply there. Was this dead tree him all along? Was it there to begin with, actually? All of them seem to blend together and one could swear they move and change places now and then. But now the fey lord is behind them, just out the corner of their eyes.

"I am glad for your prompt arrival. The reason I called you is simple. There is someone who must die. But more than that, I need you to make an example of them."

[Deathkeeper]

[Mirror of Hevar]

"No, I did. I thhink. We talked about it, I thhink? I told you I'd never actually met a king." It's hard to remember when your history is so malleable.

"Thhree, thhank you." Nim tells the innkeeper.
"Come on, Sspiliao, we're going to get you your own private room." Hopefully she's encouraged to go just a few meters farther.

[bc56]

Spilaio gets up and slithers towards Nim. "Okay, I *yawn* will be right there." She could do with a good, warm sleep. She's never slept away from her pool before.

[Gnrlshrimp]

[Dismal Swamp]

Ah, the understated sort of flashy entrance. Damon's quite fond of doing that sort of thing too, but he has to actually sneak round behind someone to do it. Can't just fey magic himself into existence like the King.

Damon's eyes remain fixed on Mister Slash, however. Another minion, it seems. Quite a contrast from the beauty of Ilpholin.

"A killing, iss it? And ssso you've called for your killerss, rather than your diplomat. Though I'm not ssure sshe ever needed a bodyguard. Sshe iss a capable fighter in her own right."

Damon takes a moment to dismiss the black flames that ripple around him and shroud him in darkness - as helpful as they are for providing some scant protection against the bog's unpleasantry, it's worth showing some sign of respect to the King in Rags. Pale white eyes stare unblinkingly at Mister Slash, set on an otherwise featureless black face, with a neutral expression. Damon's whole form is similarly dark and ethereal, clearly able to slip amidst the shadows in a blink of an eye. An axe and rapier lie sheathed about his waist, but aside from those and a couple of pouches full of something, he carries little else.

[Earl of Purple]

Dismal Swamp

"An example, is it? Good, good. Examples are always fun, shoving glass splinters under their tongues. A long time since I have tasted blood and violence." Mister Slash grins, revealing the glass replacing his teeth. Unlike Damon, the bogeyman is apparently unarmed, though he's slipped a hand into his pocket and may be holding a weapon there. "Are we two to work together, or compete?"

[Morty]

[Dismal Swamp]

"You are to work together." The King makes no comment as to whether Ilpholin required a bodyguard. "And you are correct, Damon. There will be no diplomacy on this task, simply death and sending a message with it. Your target is a fey, called Carrion Knight. They are an old vassal of mine." The water under the two ripples, showing the image of a strange figure. A black bird, by the looks of it, but clad in mismatched, rusty and jagged armor. It's unclear and vanishes quickly. "They refuse to pledge fealty to me again. This will not stand. The Carrion Knight is currently plying their trade in the Hunting Grounds, leading mortals to their deaths. Which is fortuitous, as it places them near the domain of Silent Feathers Drifting, an old fey with a debt to me. His loyalty wavers and he needs reminding of the price of defiance."

[bc56]

Kothar leads Hunter out of the city and into a thick forest, until they come to a small clearing. "We are here." Kothar gestures to a tree stump that looks recently cut. "Sit. It is time for your second lesson." The first lesson was back at the tavern, when Kothar asked Hunter to knock him over.

[Earl of Purple]

Secluded Forest

Hunter follows, and sets his trident and pack down before he sits. He looks at Kothar attentively.

[bc56]

"Good. Now close your eyes. Listen." Kothar pauses to let Hunter do so. "Relax. What do you hear?" What does Hunter hear? The wind in the trees, birdsong perhaps. More sensitive ears might pick out Kothar's breathing, or the rustling of grass and leaves beneath his feet as he shifts his weight.

[Earl of Purple]

Secluded Forest

"I hear the land-kelp rustling as the current flows through it. I hear the gulls crying in the trees, but... they're prettier gulls than I'm used to." That's all things he can hear, but he could hear more if he used his sonar. It doesn't work as well outside water, but it isn't treated as hearing by tritons. More like another sense they use when they must. "That's... mostly it, I think. I'd hear better underwater."

[bc56]

"Good. Keep listening. You will know when it is time to move." Kothar walks away from Hunter, into the trees. Does the Triton obey?

[Murkus]

[The Joining House]

The ladies somehow manage to make it fun despite the chain of losses. They're probably good at that. It might even be a bit of a hustle for some of them. Fidella just seems to be genuinely having fun with Blanche though. By the time the night is winding down, the interior of the Joining House has mostly returned to its pre-reception state, and it's mostly silent within.

The ladies - those of them who are still there and fully awake - erupt in a fit of considerably loosened giggles. The one Blanche is leaning on rocks her gently back and forth. "Don't worry, we won't tie ya up and keep ya in the cellar or nothin'."

Fidella, who's probably best kept her wits about her, turns an arm up and leans her chin on her wrist. "Ya wouldn't, huh? Aim n' posture, indeed." A lascivious chorus of 'ooooo' follows from the still-conscious ladies. The table is a mess of spilled drinks, chips, coins, cards, and dice. She slurs, "He seemed to be of the impression you'd prefer our company. Seeing as he lit out so quick and all."

[Arkhosia]

The Joining House

"I-I mean, I wouldn't mind it," Blanche admits with a slight rosiness to her cheeks as the woman presses beside her, before Fidella pipes up and a positively radiant blush creeps up to her cheeks.

"H-hey! Ah- I didn't mean it like that!" she protests. "I mean uh he's pretty attractive, I like his company a lot too-" The catgirl bites her lip. "I-I guess if he like, erm, asked?" she muses a little - until Fidelia's next comment makes her pause, blinking. "Wait, uh, you think? Did I- do you think ah scared him off? I mean he ain't entirely wrong, I kinda, er, swing both ways?"

[Recaiden]

"No, I did. I thhink. We talked about it, I thhink? I told you I'd never actually met a king." It's hard to remember when your history is so malleable.

"Thhree, thhank you." Nim tells the innkeeper.
"Come on, Sspiliao, we're going to get you your own private room." Hopefully she's encouraged to go just a few meters farther.

Spilaio gets up and slithers towards Nim. "Okay, I *yawn* will be right there." She could do with a good, warm sleep. She's never slept away from her pool before.

The innkeeper passes them little wooden keys to their respective rooms and points them down the hall.
Each room is plain but spacious, with their own fireplace, bed, bathroom, table, and tea set.

There is time to rest.

They are not the only guests - at least, not the only ones here besides the innkeeper.

At the crack of dawn (which could be any amount of time away) comes the sound of bugle and drums.
"Wake up and be readied: lord, freeman, and servant! War is come to the mountains."

[Earl of Purple]

Secluded Forest

Hunter stays put, listening to the world around him and Kothar's footsteps. He clutches his shark-tooth sword quite tight, because he's a little nervous, but doesn't really move.

[Gnrlshrimp]

[Dismal Swamp]

Sounds straightforward enough, no? Go to hunting grounds, kill rusty knight, send a message to this other fey in the process.

...

The King summoned two people to do this job.

"Thiss knight. You have doubtss over the ability of either one of uss to do thiss job alone." Damon states, staring down at the water. "What can you tell uss of what thiss knight iss capable of?"

[bc56]

Nothing out of the ordinary. Then a snap of breaking wood from head height, just outside the clearing. Is now the time to move? Or is it later? What does Hunter think Kothar expects?