[Changeling IC] Time's Wings: Dark Omens

[Thanqol]

Wits+Stealth = 8: 1, 7, 3, 8, 4, 10, 4, 7 ten again 4

Welp.

The Wyrd is indeed a thing of stories, but it resents being predictable in exactly equal measures to it's predictability. The strands of fate twist and snap...

You think you see something through the crowd. For a moment your attention is far ahead on that shuffling shape - and then "Jack! Oh, what a coincidence running into each other like this..."

It's not Bernie's voice. It's Jessica's.

She's smiling obliviously at the rotting pile of bones, meat and Hallmark greeting cards that looms over her. A crocodile skull leers down at her with bright crimson eyes.

"Haha yeah," it said in a voice that was so monstrous it didn't seem right that nobody screamed. "Fate sure is funny like that."

[Make a clarity check at 2 dice for the abrupt threat to your Touchstone. And while you're at it, tell me a little about Jessica.]

"Well, mayor bear, seems to me that your probably would be fixed if you just had another bridge over this chasm, one for going any direction you please!" Aelas smiled and she literally glowed with pride at her genius solution, her hair shimmering a merry yellow. "Now, I'm not a builder, but I bet I could find you one!"

She strides a little ways away to the forest and looks for an appropriate little cottage or cave. Perhaps Mayor Bear's home even has a nicely painted little front door? Regardless, she'll make do with what she can find. She knocks once, twice, and says out loud "Why it appears we have a guest! A master builder, indeed, and one who I'm sure will be more than happy to build you all a lovely new bridge! And in exchange, I promise to help the builder find a rare building material of her choice and get it for her!"

Then she opens the door...

Brombly's socks go up to her knees. Brombly's toes are the length and shape of drinking straws. Brombly's hat rotates in the breeze. Brombly's hands have a personality test in folded green paper.

"Brombly will make this quick," said Brombly in a brumbly way. "You can't cover a pot just by putting a lid on the top. You can't sail the ocean by balancing a ship on the surface. You can't build a bridge by stacking it over a hole. There is only one way to do these things properly - it's to go down to the bottom of the hole and carry the bottom up to the top. Once I've got the bottom of the hole I can make it so that the top is the bottom. That is how you make a bridge."

All the animals nodded sagely at Brombly's wisdom.

"You," she said to Aelas, "need to climb down to the bottom of the ravine and then bring the bottom up to me. Then I can build your bridge."

"Good stuff, good stuff." Edmund poured over the little hoard approvingly, and then snapped the folder closed. "Alright then; where's Borgit?"

He looked from face to face, looking for whoever could answer his question.

"Borgit? The Squealer? Now that might not be his real name, but I'm not one to just assume. You at least have his number, right?"

A hard task, to be sure. Since Borgit died squealing on Edmund's sword in the very first arc.

"Nobody by that name lives between here and Brisbane," said Mrs. Height with smooth confidence. "Though I am sure I can find him if it is necessary."

"Of course," Lily said, raising her right hand up, waiting for the cat to come to her and nuzzle her palm and get a good sniff before proceeding to pat, stroke, scratch and gently ruffle. The feeling of soft warm fur gave her thoughts new momentum and they continued to tumble.

Autumn bats you with a paw. "Not there!" he grumps, making it plain just how deeply you have offended him with your abysmal failure.

A slight adjustment seems to resolve the matter and the cat sinks into contented being-pattedness and purrs a selfish purr.

Autumn really had been the lesser of all the evils here. They had a heap of issues of their own but at least you could reason with them, at least they didn't terrify the living daylight out of her. Considering the other courts, that was saying a lot.

"Is there anything you want, Autumn?" she asked. "Other than pats."

"I'm really angry about Halloween," said Autumn. "Can you believe Spring gets Halloween here? Halloween and Autumn are meant to be the same thing," he grumps. "What do I get instead? Easter! When people see me they think, 'oh cool, chocolate eggs and hot cross buns' instead of 'how are we going to survive the winter?'. Hrmph! Stupid upside-down country."