[Changeling IC] Time's Wings: Dark Omens

[Thanqol]

There some ill planet reigns

- Hermione, The Winter's Tale

Time's Wings

A game of Changeling: The Lost

STARRING
Mercia the Flower Knight, the Huntswoman
Longarms, the Huntsman
Isaac, the Pilgrim
Jack Gladwin, the Thief
Lily, the Maidservant
Aelas, the Herald
Edmund, the Chef

OOC Thread

[Thanqol]

"This story is not about you," said Mercia the Flower Knight.

"I know it feels like it is. I know all the pain you're feeling seems like it should be important; how could it not be? Isn't there so much of it? But even if it's difficult for you to see beyond it you have to realize that none of this pain that you are feeling flows on to anyone else. If I torture you to death then no one will swear to avenge you. You have a son? I could do this in front of him and throw your mangled body at his feet and all he'd get is therapy. The simple fact is that your pain is minor. Your love is insignificant. The love that others feel for you is conditional. Would your husband eat his own father alive if you asked him to? No? Then you don't understand what a real romance is like."

She lit a cigarette. She'd started smoking at first because they'd fit the image of the hard-bitten private detective but they'd become a habit. She even packed her saddlebags with extras so she could take them home with her when the hunt was over. She put her lighter down on the tray of bloody dentist tools.

"I wish I knew what that was like," she said.

She'd never had that wish before. Every time her heart was ripped from her ribs and filled with the raw desire of the Kindly Ones they always added some part of themselves as well. She didn't know why - perhaps they had to. But it was always the worst part. It made everything so much more difficult.

She extinguished the cigarette in a pool of blood.

"I'm not the main character either," she said. "We're all irrelevant here. We're all the slaves to a love greater than either of us could ever imagine. We're all cursed with irrelevance because our hearts aren't big enough to stand on their own. So that's why it doesn't matter that I have to torture you, and it's also why by the time I'm done you'll be entirely broken. Neither of us have hearts big enough to think of anything but ourselves. And we can find a common understanding in that."

She kissed her prisoner. Curiosity compelled her. Maybe she did feel love? Maybe a kiss would break the spell? Maybe that moment of commonality was enough - a spark that might light a fire?

She wiped the blood from her lips. She was disappointed. She didn't know what she was supposed to feel but that wasn't it.

*

The Flower Knight walked out of the public restroom - a little stone box on the edge of the beach - wiping the blood from her hands with a thick black cloth. She looked out at the moonlight atop the waves and felt nothing. Longarms was sitting on the sand, typing furiously into his mobile phone. Mercia still remembered the look in his eyes when she'd pulled it out of the prisoner's pocket. He'd been using it non-stop ever since.

"How'd it go?" he asked.

"I think we're done," said Mercia. "She'll obey."

"Good," said Longarms, looking up but still typing. He looked pathetic, she thought. Like a junkie. Not the handsome and daring goblin prince she'd heard about in legends. There were beads of sweat on his forehead. Like he couldn't type fast enough. She wondered if she looked that pathetic as well. Was that enough of a connection for love to grow in?

"So," he was still talking. "What does she know about this monster that's supposedly going to stop us?"

"Not much," said Mercia. "The Autumn King is keeping that secret well. But I do not get the impression it is a bluff."

She pointed up at the moon. "There are too many signs."

"We'll need to deal with that, then. Oh, that's funny," said Longarms. "We've never had a turf war before. And I don't think we've ever been the good guys before either."

Mercia actually stopped and blinked. "The good guys?"

"Yeah!" said Longarms, jumping to his feet and grinning - and in that moment he was again The Grabber in all his splendour. "What else would you call two unlikely heroes acting to defend the natural order, and overthrow a regime founded on fear and human sacrifice? We're the protagonists this time around!"

Mercia was silent.

*

Pilgrim! You are being hunted.

Motorcycles adorned with lanterns and candles roar across the dirt paths of the sugar-cane fields. Here and there you catch glimpses of the Chariot of the Summer King - a Toyota Hilux pulled along by four motorcycles, the back filled with a massive bonfire. There are thirty of them or more, howling and roaring like beasts. The Summer Court is out in the fullness of its splendour and it has come for you.

You know enough to know that the King is mad, and you know enough of madness to know that is reason enough for him to pursue you. So too do you know enough of the hunt to know you could vanish if you so choose - but that is complicated by the fact that you are not alone. Aelas is with you and she is quick to tire.

Aelas! You are being hunted! The chaos and rumble of engines and pounding lights through the sugar-cane and the roaring of road warriors is not as familiar a sight to you as it is to the Pilgrim. Unlike the Pilgrim, though, you are not used to fighting monsters - these are people, at the end of the day, and though madness is a fuel it is not the spark. You can roll Wits+Socialize at a -1 to learn from their shouts what their motive is for this chase.


Edmund! You are being hunted - by bargain prices!

You are in Gustav's Gabled Gazebo of Grandeur. Despite all suspicions to the contrary, Gustav does not actually seem to be any sort of Fae creature. As far as you can tell he's a completely ordinary, checked-out elderly conman who's currently trying to scam you into some real estate. You need a place to start a restaurant, Gustav needs all of your money and all of the money you will earn in the future, a compromise can certainly be reached.

"So, listen kid, I'm getting old and while I'm struggling to make a living at all, I'm also struggling to find good places to eat out in this town," said Gustav. "Maybe these negotiations will go easier if I can taste some of your cooking and know exactly what it is I'm going to be sponsoring."


Lily and Jack! You are hunting the King of Winter!

Specifically he is locked in his room, refusing to come out, and responding to any text messages with a frowny-face emoticon. He's not in any trouble or anything - he's just too depressed to get out of bed. This is a problem because he's due to speak at a meeting of the Kings tonight and he represents the only potential voice of sanity at what is shaping up to be a pretty lunatic gathering.

So it has fallen to you, through the magic of default, to get him out of bed, get him dressed, and get him out to a meeting where he can vote not to feed the entire town to a giant bearsquid.

Right now he's pretending not to be in but you saw the light turn off when you got close so you're pretty sure he's inside. The door is locked. What do you do?

[Elanorin]

Lily and Jack! You are hunting the King of Winter!

Specifically he is locked in his room, refusing to come out, and responding to any text messages with a frowny-face emoticon. He's not in any trouble or anything - he's just too depressed to get out of bed. This is a problem because he's due to speak at a meeting of the Kings tonight and he represents the only potential voice of sanity at what is shaping up to be a pretty lunatic gathering.

So it has fallen to you, through the magic of default, to get him out of bed, get him dressed, and get him out to a meeting where he can vote not to feed the entire town to a giant bearsquid.

Right now he's pretending not to be in but you saw the light turn off when you got close so you're pretty sure he's inside. The door is locked. What do you do?

"Um, You Grace?" Lily hesitates but knocks three quick soft knocks on the bedroom door. It's like she has the gentle unobtrusive yet clearly audible knock down to a fine art. "Is there anything I can get you?" she tried, her voice as soft and clear as her knocking. She leaned in close to rest her ear to the door, her eyes turning to Jack's shoes, and then his hands.

[stveje]

Lily and Jack! You are hunting the King of Winter!

Specifically he is locked in his room, refusing to come out, and responding to any text messages with a frowny-face emoticon. He's not in any trouble or anything - he's just too depressed to get out of bed. This is a problem because he's due to speak at a meeting of the Kings tonight and he represents the only potential voice of sanity at what is shaping up to be a pretty lunatic gathering.

So it has fallen to you, through the magic of default, to get him out of bed, get him dressed, and get him out to a meeting where he can vote not to feed the entire town to a giant bearsquid.

Right now he's pretending not to be in but you saw the light turn off when you got close so you're pretty sure he's inside. The door is locked. What do you do?

Jack can sympathize. When you wake up and it's one of those mornings, Jack too would rather just stay in bed. If you're going to be fed to a giant sea monster at high noon, you can at least spend your last few hours feeling warm, cozy, and truly sorry for yourself. Since, you know, no one else is going to.

Hopefully the King just needed someone to feel sorry for him so he can get up and do his job, then get back to bed, because otherwise Jack got out of his own warm, cozy bed for nothing, and he'd feel really, truly f'ing sorry for himself if he ended up being eaten by an oversized squid now.

He could probably pick the lock on the door in two seconds flat, but no doubt the King expects as much, and a good thief never does the expected. If he were the King, wanting to be left alone, he'd have barred the door from the inside - then picking the lock wouldn't do much good anyway - and probably trapped it to high heaven just because he could. Jack begins to look around, trying to recall the layout of the house both in and out. Maybe there's a window, or even better, a crawl space or something above the King's room. A window is pretty obvious, but not as obvious as the front door, but maybe the King hasn't considered the ceiling of his room.

[Raz_Fox]

Amusingly enough, this is just like that one time in the wilderness and the nest of spade-headed serpents. Well, almost. The surrounding flora isn’t on fire yet.

You are quite right; if Aelas wasn’t here, and her without her noble steed, our friend Isaac would be off and away like a shot. Moving over treacherous terrain at high speed while evading others is, as fortune would have it, a pastime that he has become quite familiar with. His legs are long and his grip is sure, and moreover, he has been wandering where he will ever since he returned.

Not solely to go about marveling at the town, which seems just as much a wasteland of the soul as it did when he was other than he is now, and not simply to return to the solitude to which he has often been accustomed; rather, his long walks and evening roamings have been carried out with a firm and deliberate purpose, namely, to survey the wild and lonely places and make himself familiar with the terrain in preparation for such a time as this. If anything, he is grimly disappointed that the necessity of his work has so quickly come into focus.

But Aelas! Now therein lies the trouble: she is nimble and sure of foot, and would give even Isaac a run for his money in a hundred-meter, but she is accustomed to riding a rainbow unicorn through space, not barreling through stalks of sugar-cane with no way of knowing when or where the culmination of the race shall come. The Pilgrim has in his bones a long, terrible willingness to endure until the race is won, which- and I must beg her pardon here- she has never had the inclination or necessity to pursue.

So here I shall lay out the Pilgrim’s resolve, before circumstance is bound to drive it askew: to make his way to Aelas’s side and bear her strong upon his back, and this being done, to become a spectre of swirling smoke that he might spirit her away from the hunt. All this without a word, for he is ill accustomed to such, even now.

[Anarion]

Aelas is indeed used to be borne across the stars. Distance to her has been the wild rush of interstellar winds, and the zipping and whipping of the starlight as dots stretched to threads of brilliant light in Butterfly's wake. She purses her lips and thinks, as she crouches with Isaac amid the sugarcane. The dense plants are a blessing, hiding even the soft rainbow sparkle that constantly suffuses her from the prying eyes of anyone more than a few feet away. Sounds carry from the chariot. Can she hear them? [2, 3, 5. edit: spending a willpower: 9, 3, 9]. They're nothing but distant, garbled shouts of rage and wild thrill as the chariot comes, but perhaps she can just make out what's going on.

Aelas is not looking at Isaac. Her head is cocked, her field of rainbow hair pools at the ground below her right shoulder, her eyes looking elsewhere, not here. She should call Butterfly, she is thinking. They could outrun anything, even a summer chariot on the wide roads of Australia. And Butterfly was probably feeling lonely too, they hadn't been apart for more than a day since the Pralinean Hurricane on Lexar-9, and, well, everybody knew you didn't ride a cosmic courser through an interstellar hurricane if you wanted all your limbs to be in the same dimension by the end of it.

Somewhere in this thought process, Aelas started to raise her fingers to her lips to whistle for Butterfly to come to them, but in the meantime, she almost certainly appeared to Isaac to be utterly helpless, crouching in the cane stalks and listening to some nonexistent sounds without moving when their pursuers were nearly upon them. So any slow shift of her hand for a whistle went unnoticed, and her own reverie was rudely interrupted when she found herself being bodily lifted.

"I-Isaac!? What are you doing?"

[Thanqol]

"We're going to have to leave the car," said Mercia.

"The hell you say?" said Longarms.

"It's hers," she gestured vaguely back at the restroom. "And if she shows up with no car there'll be questions."

"But it's like a billion miles back. We'll be walking all night," said Longarms.

"Then we'd better get started," said Mercia, stomping down the road. "And pray someone stops for hitchhikers."

"Um, You Grace?" Lily hesitates but knocks three quick soft knocks on the bedroom door. It's like she has the gentle unobtrusive yet clearly audible knock down to a fine art. "Is there anything I can get you?" she tried, her voice as soft and clear as her knocking. She leaned in close to rest her ear to the door, her eyes turning to Jack's shoes, and then his hands.

You hear the soft murmur of sheets, and then a very artificial stillness as the King plays dead.

As you're in his house right now you can see many aspects of King Kent's life laid out around you. There is of course the laundry; strewn everywhere and not really in the habit of being washed. The clothes cycle right now seems to be Body > Floor > Body. There is the shelf full of a random collection of cassettes, vinyl records and CDs. Surprisingly it is organized, but infuriatingly it's organized by colour. There is the wardrobe filled entirely with sports and surfing trophies to the point where not one drawer can close properly. There is the kitchen with a single knife embedded almost to the handle in the door. It's been there for long enough for an enterprising spider to build a web around it.

The one part of it that demonstrates any sort of taste are the posters. Compelling minimalist designs of beaches, airplanes, and tropical environments. A lot of them have the words FLY QUANTAS prominently on them. King Kent makes his money doing advertising and his designs are actually pretty good.

Jack can sympathize. When you wake up and it's one of those mornings, Jack too would rather just stay in bed. If you're going to be fed to a giant sea monster at high noon, you can at least spend your last few hours feeling warm, cozy, and truly sorry for yourself. Since, you know, no one else is going to.

Hopefully the King just needed someone to feel sorry for him so he can get up and do his job, then get back to bed, because otherwise Jack got out of his own warm, cozy bed for nothing, and he'd feel really, truly f'ing sorry for himself if he ended up being eaten by an oversized squid now.

He could probably pick the lock on the door in two seconds flat, but no doubt the King expects as much, and a good thief never does the expected. If he were the King, wanting to be left alone, he'd have barred the door from the inside - then picking the lock wouldn't do much good anyway - and probably trapped it to high heaven just because he could. Jack begins to look around, trying to recall the layout of the house both in and out. Maybe there's a window, or even better, a crawl space or something above the King's room. A window is pretty obvious, but not as obvious as the front door, but maybe the King hasn't considered the ceiling of his room.

While it looks like the security is just a pair a drawn curtains, you are right to not count on any Changeling being that defenceless. Luckily the King's sloth has undermined his security - your investigation reveals a scribbly little signature on the wall. You know that's the Loophole to a fairly common defensive Contract. The upside is that you're fairly sure it's on it's non-lethal setting so the worst that'd happen to you trying to break in is being knocked out cold - the downside is that the magic naturally sprawls out to cover all approaches.

But coming in through the attic would still be one hell of an entrance.

[To sneak in you'll need a dex+larceny check at -3. Failure means you take 6B damage.]

Aelas is indeed used to be borne across the stars. Distance to her has been the wild rush of interstellar winds, and the zipping and whipping of the starlight as dots stretched to threads of brilliant light in Butterfly's wake. She purses her lips and thinks, as she crouches with Isaac amid the sugarcane. The dense plants are a blessing, hiding even the soft rainbow sparkle that constantly suffuses her from the prying eyes of anyone more than a few feet away. Sounds carry from the chariot. Can she hear them? [2, 3, 5. edit: spending a willpower: 9, 3, 9]. They're nothing but distant, garbled shouts of rage and wild thrill as the chariot comes, but perhaps she can just make out what's going on.

Lot of shouting, lot of very directed anger, no gunfire, extremely spread out pattern - the shape of the hunt aligns like the Moons of Mirrodin. Someone's gone missing and they decided to blame the new guys in town. They're looking to capture you and interrogate you to find out if you're responsible.

[stveje]

While it looks like the security is just a pair a drawn curtains, you are right to not count on any Changeling being that defenceless. Luckily the King's sloth has undermined his security - your investigation reveals a scribbly little signature on the wall. You know that's the Loophole to a fairly common defensive Contract. The upside is that you're fairly sure it's on it's non-lethal setting so the worst that'd happen to you trying to break in is being knocked out cold - the downside is that the magic naturally sprawls out to cover all approaches.

But coming in through the attic would still be one hell of an entrance.

[To sneak in you'll need a dex+larceny check at -3. Failure means you take 6B damage.]

Making an entrance is a good way to get someone's attention. It's a risk, true, but so is getting eaten by squidzilla. Jack signals to Lily that he's going to try to find a way in, then slips silently like a shadow towards the attic.

Dex+Larceny-3 = 5: 8, 2, 7, 2, 7.

[Raz_Fox]

What is the Pilgrim to say? There are many things that all intersect in his decision, most of them burning at the level of sheer instinct. Look about you: the cane fields are thick, and he knows clever tricks to become nothing but smoke upon the wind, not even leaving a trail to be followed; calling upon a radiant horse that burns like a prism would leave a trail that even a blind man could follow, cane stalks whipping upon the beast's flank, leaves like knives lashing your fair face. Look about you: the sugar cane will not serve us as a hiding place for long, and I do not trust this man whose head burns like a furnace not to set the fields alight to drive us out, doing wrong by the ones who work the land and sending you stumbling headlong away, for all that fire has no sting to someone who has passed through it and secured its blessing. We are alone, and I have carried heavier than you before when the wagons would not pass along the road, scraping my nails against the rock as I climbed, and how they pressed their faces against my back and the mane that grows there even now. Allow me to serve you in this; I will not see you harmed, though the King of Summer himself sets against me.

He swings her up onto his back, her arms at his shoulders, and leans forward like a stalking animal, ready to run on two limbs or four as needs must. (Can she feel the veins of his thick neck beneath her hands?) His toes dig into the earth, and beneath the herald his body tenses with power, thrumming through him like fire.

"Leaving."

He lunges forward, and as he does so, he unfolds just so and becomes smoke, wreathed in his own shape; he billows about the cane stalks, flowing through them without so much as a breath of wind, two blue embers burning in the thick mass that shapes itself into the false image of his head, and behind him flowing a shower of sparks like fire-crackers, blue and green and bloody orange. Dig your fingers into the wire-rough charcoal of his hair, my girl, still strangely there beneath your hands, even as the world swims in strange wisps about you, even as he nimble and sure makes his way out towards Prosperpine, hoping to break the cordon by simple virtue of being untouchable, unstoppable, and very fast.

Perhaps they will seek to use magic to catch him, or use their cars to run you down and bring you into the overwhelming presence of the king, but once Isaac bursts forth from the sugar cane the two of you will have the advantage of surprise, and more than that, you will have a road and room to call for a horse, and that will see you safely away into Prosperpine; and if he must choose between the two of you to see to safety, even if that safety is fleeting, he will choose you without a moment's hesitation, Aelas.

(Yes, you and I know that our lovely Butterfly is a car, but he does not, not yet, I think. Besides, Butterfly is picky, and they only carry one no matter their shape- and our Isaac being quite difficult to cram into anything short of a jeep, besides.)

[Anarion]

Aelas clutches tightly, her hands in the shock of the Pilgrim's hair, her knees pressed around his neck, though not sooo tightly that they'd stop him breathing. And then the world is mist and smoke and Aelas can't stop a shriek, a mix of terror and delight all in one, though she swiftly puts a hand over her own mouth and holds on with the other. This isn't like riding Butterfly. The speed there was wild and free, beautiful and far-reaching. This, this is close, wrapping and caressing her, shrinking her whole world so that it's just her and the pilgrim. She ought to be afraid, but this is too nice.

"They're looking for someone who's missing" she breathes into his ear as they run. "I could hear them, the way they're shouting. They think we took them, but they're wrong. Maybe...if we found the person who's lost..." She trails off. Isaac is the guide for where to run, she's the one being carried.

[Elanorin]

You hear the soft murmur of sheets, and then a very artificial stillness as the King plays dead.

As you're in his house right now you can see many aspects of King Kent's life laid out around you. There is of course the laundry; strewn everywhere and not really in the habit of being washed. The clothes cycle right now seems to be Body > Floor > Body. There is the shelf full of a random collection of cassettes, vinyl records and CDs. Surprisingly it is organized, but infuriatingly it's organized by colour. There is the wardrobe filled entirely with sports and surfing trophies to the point where not one drawer can close properly. There is the kitchen with a single knife embedded almost to the handle in the door. It's been there for long enough for an enterprising spider to build a web around it.

The one part of it that demonstrates any sort of taste are the posters. Compelling minimalist designs of beaches, airplanes, and tropical environments. A lot of them have the words FLY QUANTAS prominently on them. King Kent makes his money doing advertising and his designs are actually pretty good.

Right.

While Lily was just about to settle in for a good solid hour of gentle but persistent one-sided negotiations through a shut door she noticed Jack heading off to find some way in that wasn't the door.

Lily frowned to herself and took a moment to think. She didn't really know the King. She didn't even know why he was locking himself in refusing to see or talk to anyone. Nor did she know how he'd react to Jack breaking in to his sealed up hideaway. While she felt she knew Jack a bit better, and liked him, she really wasn't sure how tactful he was going to be here, and this worried her.

She bit her lip nervously. Jack heading off had escalated this faster than she had been prepared for. Why was everything insisting on happening so quickly since she got back? Why couldn't everyone just... slow down? She felt a pang of sympathy for the King, if she had somewhere to call home like this she'd be sorely tempted to seal herself in it too and not come out for a few days and now they were about to deny him that.

No, she really shouldn't leave this to Jack to deal with alone. She needed to get in there too. Quickly.

"It's okay. I understand," she said softly at the closed door. "You don't have to come out. I'll come to you, Your Grace," she offered as if this was doing him a favour. She wrapped her arms about herself in a little hug and drew deep breaths of air in to her lungs. The air seemed to dilute her small frame until her shape was more wisps in the air suggesting her form than an actual girl stood outside a shut room. Then she stepped forwards, passing through the wall, and the rooms around her seemed veiled in Twilight.

[Using Whispers of Morning to get in to the King's room.]

[Thanqol]

"Do you hear that?" said Longarms. "It sounds like someone yelling?"

Mercia turned her head and for a moment the two stood still. Longarms produced a set of binoculars from his pockets and stared out into the distance.

"Looks like a fire," he said. "Should we investigate?"

"It looks like several fires," said Mercia, taking the binoculars from his hands. When she looked through them all the colours were inverted; the sky above was the creamy white of expensive paper and on the horizon boiled a sucking void. "I've seen it before. Summer."

"Oh, so jackpot then?" said Longarms, producing a fully assembled sniper rifle from the same bag he got the binoculars.

"I'm not sure," said Mercia. "The prisoner said he's still wearing the Crown. I don't know if that means the Contract of Summer is still in place. If we engage we might not be able to retreat."

"Only one way to find out!" said Longarms. Mercia put her hand on his rifle and lowered it.

"No. We need more information." Longarms gave her a dirty look. "Don't be like that," she said. "Call your pets. We don't need to risk ourselves this early in the Hunt."

Making an entrance is a good way to get someone's attention. It's a risk, true, but so is getting eaten by squidzilla. Jack signals to Lily that he's going to try to find a way in, then slips silently like a shadow towards the attic.

Dex+Larceny-3 = 5: 8, 2, 7, 2, 7.

A delicate brush to gently scrape away a load-bearing cobweb, a polite but vexing riddle to the invisible goblin who stands waiting with a club - these are the tools you wield, and with such grace that none might mark your passage.

No, she really shouldn't leave this to Jack to deal with alone. She needed to get in there too. Quickly.

"It's okay. I understand," she said softly at the closed door. "You don't have to come out. I'll come to you, Your Grace," she offered as if this was doing him a favour. She wrapped her arms about herself in a little hug and drew deep breaths of air in to her lungs. The air seemed to dilute her small frame until her shape was more wisps in the air suggesting her form than an actual girl stood outside a shut room. Then she stepped forwards, passing through the wall, and the rooms around her seemed veiled in Twilight.

[Using Whispers of Morning to get in to the King's room.]

And all at once you are both inside the room of the Winter King, King Kent Derbyshire, first of his name, king of the Andals and the First Men.

Messy but not filthy. Designed so that as much as possible can be done without leaving bed - there is a television hooked up to a Nintendo, a bottle of water and bag of snacks, and a bed laden with blankets so as to keep out the autumn chill. Underneath those blankets is curled the mighty king, burrowed in snugly as though expecting hibernation. There is a start from the blanket pile as you make your entrances - dropping through the ceiling and walking through a door are two very impressive ways in - but it rapidly peters out and the concealment in the blankets is maintained. "What?" he demands in the defeated and surly tone of a depressed teenager.

Perhaps they will seek to use magic to catch him, or use their cars to run you down and bring you into the overwhelming presence of the king, but once Isaac bursts forth from the sugar cane the two of you will have the advantage of surprise, and more than that, you will have a road and room to call for a horse, and that will see you safely away into Prosperpine; and if he must choose between the two of you to see to safety, even if that safety is fleeting, he will choose you without a moment's hesitation, Aelas.

(Yes, you and I know that our lovely Butterfly is a car, but he does not, not yet, I think. Besides, Butterfly is picky, and they only carry one no matter their shape- and our Isaac being quite difficult to cram into anything short of a jeep, besides.)

As you emerge, the net finds you - thick and weighted and quite uselessly solid. It passes through your smoke body and lands in a tangled pile woven through the cane. Not getting the message, the ogre who threw it launches himself in an impressive full-body tackle at your midsection and resultingly winds up tangled in his own net. Comical - but for his bellowing attracting the hunters, and you may not be so lucky a second time.

But you have some road to yourself, you have an opening to foil your pursuers - you have time to build a lead, summon a vehicle, or use other magic should you desire.

[Anarion]

As you emerge, the net finds you - thick and weighted and quite uselessly solid. It passes through your smoke body and lands in a tangled pile woven through the cane. Not getting the message, the ogre who threw it launches himself in an impressive full-body tackle at your midsection and resultantly winds up tangled in his own net. Comical - but for his bellowing attracting the hunters, and you may not be so lucky a second time.

But you have some road to yourself, you have an opening to foil your pursuers - you have time to build a lead, summon a vehicle, or use other magic should you desire.

Now, Aelas puts a finger to her mouth, and her single clear whistle pierces the silence of the open road, calling to the vrooming engine, and from out of nowhere, there is Butterfly, a jet black Ferrari, the rearing stallion prominent on the vent. [spending 1 glamour]. She turns to Isaac as she climbs off his back, running a hand gently along his shoulder as she does so. "Butterfly can only carry one person. I'm guessing you want me to get in there and get moving, right Isaac? I can do that, but I'm gonna rev the engine reaaaal loud and they're all gonna chase me down the road until I find somewhere safe or I run into whoever they're looking for. But you're gonna find the person they're looking for, okay? This is all just a misunderstanding." Aelas smiles because everything is fine and she's pretty sure this is gonna be fun, even though she has to leave Isaac behind.

[If Isaac agrees, I think this would qualify as a 1 willpower joy regain under "deny helping others to maintain your joy"]

[stveje]

And all at once you are both inside the room of the Winter King, King Kent Derbyshire, first of his name, king of the Andals and the First Men.

Messy but not filthy. Designed so that as much as possible can be done without leaving bed - there is a television hooked up to a Nintendo, a bottle of water and bag of snacks, and a bed laden with blankets so as to keep out the autumn chill. Underneath those blankets is curled the mighty king, burrowed in snugly as though expecting hibernation. There is a start from the blanket pile as you make your entrances - dropping through the ceiling and walking through a door are two very impressive ways in - but it rapidly peters out and the concealment in the blankets is maintained. "What?" he demands in the defeated and surly tone of a depressed teenager.

"We're sorry to disturb you, Your Grace," Jack said and bowed as one does before one's king. Out of the corners of his eyes he studied his surroundings, as he always did when entering a new room. Old habit. His eyes passed over the Nintendo and made a note of it. He had to admit he was rusty on the social graces, but maybe his plan could work with Lily's aid. Lily, who had all that social nicety down to an art. Maybe he should have talked the plan over with her first, but ... well, when you were in the moment, sometimes you had to rely on an unspoken understanding. He threw her a glance, and memories came flooding back, of his time with Veronica, working as a team, supporting each other. With the memories came sadness, but also a sense that maybe he could do it. Maybe they could do it. "We thought maybe you wanted some company," he said, as if the king hadn't done his best to give the exact opposite impression. "Play a game or something." He put it out there casually, an offer for some simple distraction, not a challenge. But Jack thought he knew gamers; they couldn't help but make it a challenge, in his experience. Once they got started ...

He hoped they weren't in too much of a hurry.

*

Health 7/7
Glamour 5/10
Willpower 4/4

[Elanorin]

And all at once you are both inside the room of the Winter King, King Kent Derbyshire, first of his name, king of the Andals and the First Men.

Messy but not filthy. Designed so that as much as possible can be done without leaving bed - there is a television hooked up to a Nintendo, a bottle of water and bag of snacks, and a bed laden with blankets so as to keep out the autumn chill. Underneath those blankets is curled the mighty king, burrowed in snugly as though expecting hibernation. There is a start from the blanket pile as you make your entrances - dropping through the ceiling and walking through a door are two very impressive ways in - but it rapidly peters out and the concealment in the blankets is maintained. "What?" he demands in the defeated and surly tone of a depressed teenager.

"We're sorry to disturb you, Your Grace," Jack said and bowed as one does before one's king. Out of the corners of his eyes he studied his surroundings, as he always did when entering a new room. Old habit. His eyes passed over the Nintendo and made a note of it. He had to admit he was rusty on the social graces, but maybe his plan could work with Lily's aid. Lily, who had all that social nicety down to an art. Maybe he should have talked the plan over with her first, but ... well, when you were in the moment, sometimes you had to rely on an unspoken understanding. He threw her a glance, and memories came flooding back, of his time with Veronica, working as a team, supporting each other. With the memories came sadness, but also a sense that maybe he could do it. Maybe they could do it. "We thought maybe you wanted some company," he said, as if the king hadn't done his best to give the exact opposite impression. "Play a game or something." He put it out there casually, an offer for some simple distraction, not a challenge. But Jack thought he knew gamers; they couldn't help but make it a challenge, in his experience. Once they got started ...

He hoped they weren't in too much of a hurry.

Lily certainly wasn't in a hurry. She caught Jack's glance her way and while she didn't fully meet it, her eyes rose no higher than to his shoulders, she offered a tiny and brief smile instead by way of accepting the joint effort.

Game? Lily's eyes did a second scan of the room and only then noticed the thing that looked like it could be a console. In truth she was not a very experienced gamer though she'd tried it a handful of times a lifetime ago with friends whose names she barely remembered anymore. It was a good plan, she decided, the memories that came back were of friendly rivalry and laughter and surprising honesty eased by having your eyes glued to a screen rather than facing each other.

"And maybe some pizza?" Lily added joining in to Jack's plan. Perhaps she ought not to have worried about Jack's sense of tact, he was clearly quite good at this.

[Rolling to Assist Jack: Manipulation+Socialize: 3, 8, 2, 9, 1, 10, 10, 8, (10 again: 4, 10 (10 again: 5))]

Health: 7/7
Glamor 5/10
Willpower: 5/5

[stveje]

[Rolling to Assist Jack: Manipulation+Socialize: 3, 8, 2, 9, 1, 10, 10, 8, (10 again: 4, 10 (10 again: 5))]

Manipulation+Socialize+Wyrd+Mantle+Assist = 3-1+1+3+6 = 12 : 7, 7, 9, 7, 6, 4, 4, 2, 3, 6, 3, 1

A tie? On those odds? I need to sacrifice a goat to the dice god, clearly. F'ck it, I'll spend Willpower rather than have another contest: 4, 9, 9

3 successes beats 1. I don't know yet if it costs me glamor, as we haven't seen yet whether he challenges Jack or Jack has to challenge him.

Health 7/7
Glamour 5/10
Willpower 3/4

[Raz_Fox]

Were this some other sort of story, our friend might here slip the viewing audience a wry glance, the arched eyebrow communicating clearly that performing an investigation into a missing persons case is clearly not his forte; perhaps he would sardonically point out that if Aelas here needed something heavy lifted, he was her man. But this is not that sort of story, and the Pilgrim is well used to being given an open-ended and ill-defined task to complete. Instead, he nods, emerging bodily from the smoke, which runs in streaming rivulets into his natty button-down, there to coil lovingly against his rough skin.

He watches her leave without so much as a word, a receding mountain in the rear-view mirror. Then he waits, listening to the cracking and creaking of the sugar cane as the pursuit catches up. Somewhere, distant, there is the whine of power generators; the creak of a windmill brushed by the dying hand of the breeze; the roar of an engine injected with fuel and let loose to run. Strange sounds, wondrous strange.

Ah, and there’s the call that he’s been spotted. It’s miles back to town, over field and fence and dry-gulch, and should they catch him, they will teach him terrible new fires. Well, let them try. Isaac is the master here, and swift are his footfalls; he’ll vanish into the land his friend, and let them waste their gas in circling.

[Using Elusive Gift and spending a point of WP, rolled with the shiny Onyx Path dice app. 4 Successes, contested by Wits+Composure+Wyrd of lead pursuer. If Isaac wins, he can hide for an hour completely undetected from the pursuit, and then will trigger Light-Shy using its catch and make his way into town.]

Health 9/9
Glamour 5/10
Willpower 5/6

[Thanqol]

"They're out in force," Longarms translates from fruitbat. "The whole lot of them. And they're coming in this direction."

"They're following us!" said Mercia in shock. "They're hunting us!"

"Sounds like," said Longarms grimly. "Looks like we're not as stealthy as we thought we were."

"Or they're more paranoid than we thought. Sh*t," said Mercia, "They'll have our scent. Do you have any spare iron?"

Longarms made a face, but he unloaded the clip from his gun - a handful of iron bullets. He crushed them in a jade mortar and pestle and cast the dust around him like sand. "Right, that should break any magic they're using to follow us," he said.

"Let's get out of here then," said Merica. "Double time."

"And maybe some pizza?" Lily added joining in to Jack's plan. Perhaps she ought not to have worried about Jack's sense of tact, he was clearly quite good at this.

[Rolling to Assist Jack: Manipulation+Socialize: 3, 8, 2, 9, 1, 10, 10, 8, (10 again: 4, 10 (10 again: 5))]

There's no response at first, and then a pale set of hands emerge from under the blankets and pick up the controller.

Challenge accepted.

as we haven't seen yet whether he challenges Jack or Jack has to challenge him.

It's easy enough to manoeuvre so Lily challenges Kent, and Kent challenges you so it does count for the loophole.


It is shocking how deep the muscle memory of Mario Kart runs. It's like riding a bike - within a matter of minutes all those old instincts congeal and you're all executing perfect drifts, expertly navigating canyons, and cursing the communist tendencies of the cursed Blue Shell like it was only yesterday. And really, when you think about it, this is natural. Each of you have probably spent more hours playing Mario Kart than you have spent doing your math homework.

The pizza also helps. It's the most normal your lives have been in living memory.

Over the course of the game Jack is able to analyse the King's playstyle and, through it, his personality. His lazy turns, lack of propensity to take difficult shortcuts, and choice of Wario indicate that his Vice is, in fact, Sloth. That was predictable enough; his way to recover from emotional desolation is to hide out in bed, after all. More interesting is the moment when you're screaming down Rainbow Road and you hear the first words you've heard from him all evening: "This is a really beautiful course,"

Whatever else the King is, the one thing that can stir his soul out of despondency is beauty; his Virtue is Artistic.

Finally, you notice that his play has severe self-destructive tendencies. Most of the time when he loses it's because he seems to have sabotaged himself. It's comedic when he slips on his own thrown banana peel but some part of him wanted that to happen. It's a subtle but meaningful motion to one looking for it: one of his aspirations is to punish himself for his sins.

In the end, though, it's Jack who rocks across the finish line. The King puts the controller down. He's not better now, but he'll at least talk to you at this point.

Now, Aelas puts a finger to her mouth, and her single clear whistle pierces the silence of the open road, calling to the vrooming engine, and from out of nowhere, there is Butterfly, a jet black Ferrari, the rearing stallion prominent on the vent. [spending 1 glamour]. She turns to Isaac as she climbs off his back, running a hand gently along his shoulder as she does so. "Butterfly can only carry one person. I'm guessing you want me to get in there and get moving, right Isaac? I can do that, but I'm gonna rev the engine reaaaal loud and they're all gonna chase me down the road until I find somewhere safe or I run into whoever they're looking for. But you're gonna find the person they're looking for, okay? This is all just a misunderstanding." Aelas smiles because everything is fine and she's pretty sure this is gonna be fun, even though she has to leave Isaac behind.

For a moment it ceases to be Changeling and starts to be Apocalypse World. For a moment you're riding historic on the Fury Road, pursued by a mob of screaming Warboys on bikes and utes. Butterfly roars and your spine turns to jelly as you scream down the unpaved dirt road.

This is a chase scene; you start at three successes, if you hit eight successes total on extended dexterity+drive rolls you hit the freeway where the sheer speed of your car will be able to leave everyone else in the dust. The distance between you and the Summer Court is determined by the difference of successes between you and them; if they match your successes they're close enough to ram or board you.

[Summer Court roll: 7,1,10,4,10,9; nothing on the 10s. Their total: 3, your total: 3]

And close they do - in the time it takes you to pull away suddenly they are all around you. A biker made out of lightning smashes in the window next to you with a crowbar. There's a huge jolt as the King's Hilux rams directly into Butterfly's rear, knocking out both of your tail lights and your rear license plate. More are pulling up around you with chains and baseball bats and torches.

Ah, and there’s the call that he’s been spotted. It’s miles back to town, over field and fence and dry-gulch, and should they catch him, they will teach him terrible new fires. Well, let them try. Isaac is the master here, and swift are his footfalls; he’ll vanish into the land his friend, and let them waste their gas in circling.

[Using Elusive Gift and spending a point of WP, rolled with the shiny Onyx Path dice app. 4 Successes, contested by Wits+Composure+Wyrd of lead pursuer. If Isaac wins, he can hide for an hour completely undetected from the pursuit, and then will trigger Light-Shy using its catch and make his way into town.]

You are gone. Gone gone gone - these hills are yours, these fields are yours, these lands are yours. None can find you.

But you might find someone else - you're not alone in these hills. Roll wits+survival at -3; if you succeed you discover the two Huntsmen on your way and may observe them undetected.

[Raz_Fox]

[Incredibly, on two dice, 1 Success.]

Have you ever entered into a room with your mind already focused on something else? You go through the routine, eyes flickering from task to task, not seeing some new object or stealthy visitor until they are pointed out to you?

That is what it is like to be in Isaac’s presence when he is being so quiet and canny that everyone’s attention passes him by. The eye slides right off, seeing nothing but a swimming of dust in the lid or a shadow blending into all the others. No footfall he makes, and nothing trembles in his wake. And it is in such a state that Isaac stumbles upon the Huntsmen.

They move as predators: this is what he thinks to himself. One wreathed in cigarette smoke, and this bothers him; he once smoked. The aroma dredges up deep, unpleasant memories, ones he flinches from. Better to think of burning. The other, somehow familiar; the connection will come to him eventually. Whatever they are, they are not human, though that is not what troubles him. His closest friend is not human, either, and he rubbed elbows with many strange things that could, in their own odd way, be trusted in the wilderness. No, it is the fact that they are predators. Predators such as he has not seen since ascending.

He studies them, unseen, unfelt, unblinking. If you do not know the hunter as well as it knows itself, you may very well regret it during the quiet hours of the night.

[Anarion]

For a moment it ceases to be Changeling and starts to be Apocalypse World. For a moment you're riding historic on the Fury Road, pursued by a mob of screaming Warboys on bikes and utes. Butterfly roars and your spine turns to jelly as you scream down the unpaved dirt road.

This is a chase scene; you start at three successes, if you hit eight successes total on extended dexterity+drive rolls you hit the freeway where the sheer speed of your car will be able to leave everyone else in the dust. The distance between you and the Summer Court is determined by the difference of successes between you and them; if they match your successes they're close enough to ram or board you.

[Summer Court roll: 7,1,10,4,10,9; nothing on the 10s. Their total: 3, your total: 3]

And close they do - in the time it takes you to pull away suddenly they are all around you. A biker made out of lightning smashes in the window next to you with a crowbar. There's a huge jolt as the King's Hilux rams directly into Butterfly's rear, knocking out both of your tail lights and your rear license plate. More are pulling up around you with chains and baseball bats and torches.

"GET OFF MY CAR! OFF, OFF OFF!" Aelas is completely flipping out, and as she does so, a storm brews above her head. It looks like a star rises from her hair, slowly gathering dust and spinning, and as it does, it whirls into an inferno, spitting out blazing matter faster and faster, making the space all around the car into a corona of blazing meteors. Oddly, not a one of them strikes the car itself, Butterfly is completely immune, but everyone on the car is caught in the blaze, and is subject to the Inferno environmental tilt. Aelas does not stop screaming either, her shrieks echoing over the road. [Invoking Elemental Fury with loophole and the Fairest bonus to not harm Butterfly or Aelas herself, Inferno Tilt (-2 to all physical rolls for those affected, after 2 turns take 2B/turn due to smoke, after three take 1L/turn from fire and dex+stam or catch fire themselves. Note that the WoD rules have each chase roll as representing 10 normal turns.)]

She also floors the pedal and goes, fast as Butterfly can carry her. You can hear the engine roar, and perhaps that's actually the sound of the horse's neigh as it rears and charges. [dex+drive: 2, 9, 3, 4, 10. 3. 2 successes. Edit: forgot to count Butterfly as equipment. I think since she's got doubled speed special that she'd count as a top class car, and add 3 dice, if you disagree, knock off from the right. 4, 10, 6. 3. So 3 Successes total. ]

Glamor 4/10
Clarity: 6/6
Health: 6/6
Willpower: 6/6

[stveje]

There's no response at first, and then a pale set of hands emerge from under the blankets and pick up the controller.

Challenge accepted.



It's easy enough to manoeuvre so Lily challenges Kent, and Kent challenges you so it does count for the loophole.


It is shocking how deep the muscle memory of Mario Kart runs. It's like riding a bike - within a matter of minutes all those old instincts congeal and you're all executing perfect drifts, expertly navigating canyons, and cursing the communist tendencies of the cursed Blue Shell like it was only yesterday. And really, when you think about it, this is natural. Each of you have probably spent more hours playing Mario Kart than you have spent doing your math homework.

The pizza also helps. It's the most normal your lives have been in living memory.

Over the course of the game Jack is able to analyse the King's playstyle and, through it, his personality. His lazy turns, lack of propensity to take difficult shortcuts, and choice of Wario indicate that his Vice is, in fact, Sloth. That was predictable enough; his way to recover from emotional desolation is to hide out in bed, after all. More interesting is the moment when you're screaming down Rainbow Road and you hear the first words you've heard from him all evening: "This is a really beautiful course,"

Whatever else the King is, the one thing that can stir his soul out of despondency is beauty; his Virtue is Artistic.

Finally, you notice that his play has severe self-destructive tendencies. Most of the time when he loses it's because he seems to have sabotaged himself. It's comedic when he slips on his own thrown banana peel but some part of him wanted that to happen. It's a subtle but meaningful motion to one looking for it: one of his aspirations is to punish himself for his sins.

In the end, though, it's Jack who rocks across the finish line. The King puts the controller down. He's not better now, but he'll at least talk to you at this point.

Jack would like this moment to last, but what Jack wanted had never really been anyone's concern, not even Jack's own. As wonderful as the old memories and normality felt, part of Jack was busy paying close attention and making plans.

If sloth was the problem, perhaps sloth could be the solution too.

"Do you have to be physically present to cast your vote at this meeting of Kings?" he asked casually while picking up a slice of pizza.

[Thanqol]

[Incredibly, on two dice, 1 Success.]

Have you ever entered into a room with your mind already focused on something else? You go through the routine, eyes flickering from task to task, not seeing some new object or stealthy visitor until they are pointed out to you?

That is what it is like to be in Isaac’s presence when he is being so quiet and canny that everyone’s attention passes him by. The eye slides right off, seeing nothing but a swimming of dust in the lid or a shadow blending into all the others. No footfall he makes, and nothing trembles in his wake. And it is in such a state that Isaac stumbles upon the Huntsmen.

They move as predators: this is what he thinks to himself. One wreathed in cigarette smoke, and this bothers him; he once smoked. The aroma dredges up deep, unpleasant memories, ones he flinches from. Better to think of burning. The other, somehow familiar; the connection will come to him eventually. Whatever they are, they are not human, though that is not what troubles him. His closest friend is not human, either, and he rubbed elbows with many strange things that could, in their own odd way, be trusted in the wilderness. No, it is the fact that they are predators. Predators such as he has not seen since ascending.

He studies them, unseen, unfelt, unblinking. If you do not know the hunter as well as it knows itself, you may very well regret it during the quiet hours of the night.

You follow them, away from the distant fire. They move swiftly, not speaking, jumping fences and striding across the fields with the steady motion of those who know how to pace themselves.

They reach the road. The autumn moon emerges from between the torn clouds, and a single streetlight provides a puddle of golden warmth. And for a second you catch a glimpse of metal.

The man picked this moment perfectly - a strong light source, fresh moonlight, and no easy cover. He holds an iron mirror in his palms and is using it to look around in all directions - and spiteful iron will happily stare right through your Contract. Hunters, you called them, and you were right to do so.

[Wits+Stealth at -6 to avoid detection.]

"GET OFF MY CAR! OFF, OFF OFF!" Aelas is completely flipping out, and as she does so, a storm brews above her head. It looks like a star rises from her hair, slowly gathering dust and spinning, and as it does, it whirls into an inferno, spitting out blazing matter faster and faster, making the space all around the car into a corona of blazing meteors. Oddly, not a one of them strikes the car itself, Butterfly is completely immune, but everyone on the car is caught in the blaze, and is subject to the Inferno environmental tilt. Aelas does not stop screaming either, her shrieks echoing over the road. [Invoking Elemental Fury with loophole and the Fairest bonus to not harm Butterfly or Aelas herself, Inferno Tilt (-2 to all physical rolls for those affected, after 2 turns take 2B/turn due to smoke, after three take 1L/turn from fire and dex+stam or catch fire themselves. Note that the WoD rules have each chase roll as representing 10 normal turns.)]

She also floors the pedal and goes, fast as Butterfly can carry her. You can hear the engine roar, and perhaps that's actually the sound of the horse's neigh as it rears and charges. [dex+drive: 2, 9, 3, 4, 10. 3. 2 successes. Edit: forgot to count Butterfly as equipment. I think since she's got doubled speed special that she'd count as a top class car, and add 3 dice, if you disagree, knock off from the right. 4, 10, 6. 3. So 3 Successes total. ]

[So Butterfly's equipment bonus doesn't apply here - although if you're prepared to video yourself driving down a pothole filled dirt country road in a Ferrari then I'll change my tune. In this specific environment the dirtbikes and offroad vehicles have the edge - but that's also why reaching the highway ends the chase, because none of them can keep up with your fancy car on a real road with no traffic.

Roll: 5,5,3,7,3,7 - nothing!]

Unfortunately for Aelas, she happens to have targeted the one social organization of people statistically by far the most likely to have some form of fire immunity. A couple of the Summer Court peel off from the fire vortex but the vast majority of it just lean into it.

They return fire in kind. A Molotov cocktail sails spectacularly through the air and smashes onto your windshield. Your vision, already pretty on-fire-y, goes to full scale fire in all directions. Butterfly's windscreen wipers batter ineffectually against the burning petrol, leaving smears of melted plastic.

The canefields all about are ignited by this point as well. Somewhere some insurance company is going to have a bad day.

Jack would like this moment to last, but what Jack wanted had never really been anyone's concern, not even Jack's own. As wonderful as the old memories and normality felt, part of Jack was busy paying close attention and making plans.

If sloth was the problem, perhaps sloth could be the solution too.

"Do you have to be physically present to cast your vote at this meeting of Kings?" he asked casually while picking up a slice of pizza.

"I don't know," said the King uncertainly "I mean... it's not like there's a rule that says I do..."

[Convincing him to delegate you his authority is manipulation+persuasion, with a +3 because you're leaning on his Vice]

[Anarion]

[So Butterfly's equipment bonus doesn't apply here - although if you're prepared to video yourself driving down a pothole filled dirt country road in a Ferrari then I'll change my tune. In this specific environment the dirtbikes and offroad vehicles have the edge - but that's also why reaching the highway ends the chase, because none of them can keep up with your fancy car on a real road with no traffic.

Roll: 5,5,3,7,3,7 - nothing!]

Unfortunately for Aelas, she happens to have targeted the one social organization of people statistically by far the most likely to have some form of fire immunity. A couple of the Summer Court peel off from the fire vortex but the vast majority of it just lean into it.

They return fire in kind. A Molotov cocktail sails spectacularly through the air and smashes onto your windshield. Your vision, already pretty on-fire-y, goes to full scale fire in all directions. Butterfly's windscreen wipers batter ineffectually against the burning petrol, leaving smears of melted plastic.

The canefields all about are ignited by this point as well. Somewhere some insurance company is going to have a bad day.

[Fair enough. Dex+drive: 9, 2, 3, 2, 7. 6/8 successes.]

Butterfly zooms through the dirt road, flying over bumps and rumbling over ditches. This isn't her best pace, she's a horse that's used to running along intergalactic roads of starlight and solar wind, and the smooth open roads would at least get her closer to that. Aelas doesn't maintain her rage for more than a minute or so. it's not a natural emotion for her, and she can see out the mirrors that it's already worked on everyone that it's going to work on. She's still really upset about them hitting Butterfly, that is super uncool, but she's not so intense about it. Instead, she rolls down the window a crack and shouts out to whoever is still hanging onto the car: "Hey! Hey! Uh...guys, like, whoever you're looking for, I don't know where they are and I probably haven't met them yet. But I could help you look if you want! Wanna tell me what they look like, and if I see them, I'll let them know there's a giant convoy of flaming trucks and dune buggies looking for them, okay?"

[Raz_Fox]

[Unsurprisingly, I did not succeed on a chance die.]

A clever man, certainly. An adaptable man, indeed. In that small circle of impassive iron, an image flashes for but a moment: a dark man, huge and stooped, heavy-horned and wearing second-hand bespoke jorts purchased from a disreputable gazebo salesman, and those eyes, two burning candle-lights, like the headlights of a distant vehicle, an unnaturally vivid blue.

The Pilgrim nods once in the mirror, and the image is so small within that it might be hard to discern but for those spiraling horns, but it is there. A nod of fair play, a nod without fear. Then he is already bounding away, low to the ground, invisible but through that small mirror. When your opponent makes a fine defensive play, adapt without anger, but move swiftly or you will be thrown aside.

[Thanqol]

"Bingo! Who's the smartest?" said Longarms. He awkwardly levelled his rifle, haphazardly aiming while looking through the mirror. "I got him, I got him, I -"

Mercia knocked the gun out of his hands.

"What the hell!?" said Longarms.

"Idiot!" she hissed. "It's autumn! We have to give them warning before we come for them. It's the contract."

"But he's right there," whined Longarms plaintively.

"I know," Mercia snarled. She knew exactly what he was feeling - the pounding roaring in the place that used to be her heart and was now filled with a single-minded desire to hunt and bind. "Blood of Mars, I know. But we can't."

She sighed, and then bent down to touch the Pilgrim's footprints. "But we're not leaving this empty handed," she said. "We know what he looks like now. We know he can turn invisible. We know his size, shape and speed. We know the impression of his shoes. We know he's here. We have a lot to go on."

Longarms bent to take a photograph with his cell phone camera of the soft dirt. A brief flicker of light from the flash.

"Now we need to go," said Mercia. "And fast - before he calls on Summer."

The Huntsmen began to run.

[Fair enough. Dex+drive: 9, 2, 3, 2, 7. 6/8 successes.]

Butterfly zooms through the dirt road, flying over bumps and rumbling over ditches. This isn't her best pace, she's a horse that's used to running along intergalactic roads of starlight and solar wind, and the smooth open roads would at least get her closer to that. Aelas doesn't maintain her rage for more than a minute or so. it's not a natural emotion for her, and she can see out the mirrors that it's already worked on everyone that it's going to work on. She's still really upset about them hitting Butterfly, that is super uncool, but she's not so intense about it. Instead, she rolls down the window a crack and shouts out to whoever is still hanging onto the car: "Hey! Hey! Uh...guys, like, whoever you're looking for, I don't know where they are and I probably haven't met them yet. But I could help you look if you want! Wanna tell me what they look like, and if I see them, I'll let them know there's a giant convoy of flaming trucks and dune buggies looking for them, okay?"

[2,4,7,1,3,5 - nothing, still at 3, oof]

Clinging to the side of your car for dear life is a gargoyle looking girl, made out of roughly cut gothic stone with razor sharp talons and huge bat ears. "Hi there," she says with remarkable calm - wherever she's from was evidently way more intense than a mere car chase on a flaming Ferrari. "Hunting male and female. Kidnappers. Heading in this direction. Sorry don't know more!"

She smiled to show there were no hard feelings. Then she ripped off the metal covering the fuel port to the car, and started unscrewing the cap while awkwardly trying to ignite a cigarette lighter with her rear claws.

[Unsurprisingly, I did not succeed on a chance die.]

A clever man, certainly. An adaptable man, indeed. In that small circle of impassive iron, an image flashes for but a moment: a dark man, huge and stooped, heavy-horned and wearing second-hand bespoke jorts purchased from a disreputable gazebo salesman, and those eyes, two burning candle-lights, like the headlights of a distant vehicle, an unnaturally vivid blue.

The Pilgrim nods once in the mirror, and the image is so small within that it might be hard to discern but for those spiraling horns, but it is there. A nod of fair play, a nod without fear. Then he is already bounding away, low to the ground, invisible but through that small mirror. When your opponent makes a fine defensive play, adapt without anger, but move swiftly or you will be thrown aside.

They do not follow - for a moment you are sure they will, for a moment you can feel the fire roaring on your heels and the furious glare of predatory eyes burning a hole into your back - but they don't. A glance over your shoulder shows a flicker of two shadowy shapes leaping over a fence and sprinting away through the cane fields. Some alien logic or kindly mercy has saved your skin this day, and the cold wind of autumn bats at your hair and face with playful talons, like a Siberian housecat.

Your options are, again, infinite, but the obvious two are to return to the town, or to dare your already overstrained luck by continuing the hunt.

[Anarion]

[2,4,7,1,3,5 - nothing, still at 3, oof]

Clinging to the side of your car for dear life is a gargoyle looking girl, made out of roughly cut gothic stone with razor sharp talons and huge bat ears. "Hi there," she says with remarkable calm - wherever she's from was evidently way more intense than a mere car chase on a flaming Ferrari. "Hunting male and female. Kidnappers. Heading in this direction. Sorry don't know more!"

She smiled to show there were no hard feelings. Then she ripped off the metal covering the fuel port to the car, and started unscrewing the cap while awkwardly trying to ignite a cigarette lighter with her rear claws.

"Woah, kidnappers. That's seriously uncool. If I find them, I'll, uh, like, well, probably avoid them so they don't kidnap me, but I'll try to get them to chase me towards you guys, okay? So how about you let go and...hey, hey, no! No! Bad gargoyle! Don't touch that!"

While she's still flooring the pedal, Aelas grabs a handful of soil and sprinkles it out the window behind her into the Gargoyle's eyes.
[Dream of the Earth with Loophole. 4 - 3 - 7 - 10 - 10 - 5 - 9 - 5 - 5. 10 agains: 1 - 4 : 3 successes opposed by her composure+tolerance roll or she falls into a deep sleep.]

Meanwhile, the freeway is almost in sight, it's so close. [3 - 4 - 8 - 10 - 1. 10 again 3. 8/8 successes] Aelas is ready to break away on the open road if Butterfly is still up for it.

Glamor 4/10
Clarity: 6/6
Health: 6/6
Willpower: 6/6

[stveje]

"I don't know," said the King uncertainly "I mean... it's not like there's a rule that says I do..."

[Convincing him to delegate you his authority is manipulation+persuasion, with a +3 because you're leaning on his Vice]

"Then there's no reason you couldn't send someone in your stead," Jack said, then glanced at the screen. "I could even patch you through via your screen, if you want to watch from here. You just have to turn it off." A black screen is reflective, like a mirror, at least somewhat, and this one had already reflected Jack's face. It could work. "And if you get tired of watching, you just turn it on." It sounded very tempting. And reasonable. Or they could just set up some kind of video stream, but Jack wasn't good enough with tech for all that, and it already sounded like a lot of work. His way would be simpler, he figured.

Manipulation+Persuasion+3 = 7 : 8, 7, 2, 10, 4, 6, 4, ten again 4; 2 successes.

[Thanqol]

"Woah, kidnappers. That's seriously uncool. If I find them, I'll, uh, like, well, probably avoid them so they don't kidnap me, but I'll try to get them to chase me towards you guys, okay? So how about you let go and...hey, hey, no! No! Bad gargoyle! Don't touch that!"

While she's still flooring the pedal, Aelas grabs a handful of soil and sprinkles it out the window behind her into the Gargoyle's eyes.
[Dream of the Earth with Loophole. 4 - 3 - 7 - 10 - 10 - 5 - 9 - 5 - 5. 10 agains: 1 - 4 : 3 successes opposed by her composure+tolerance roll or she falls into a deep sleep.]

Meanwhile, the freeway is almost in sight, it's so close. [3 - 4 - 8 - 10 - 1. 10 again 3. 8/8 successes] Aelas is ready to break away on the open road if Butterfly is still up for it.

Good news and bad news; your charm works, but this particular gargoyle is extremely used to sleeping in totally bizarre places, so she just sinks her claws into the side of the car, tucks her wings in, and goes to sleep right there, still hanging perfectly steady off the side of Butterfly as you tear down the highway.

And that's bad. Because now you're an actual kidnapper.

You can either pull over and prise the sleeping gargoyle off the side of your car, which will get you caught, or you're looking at a four dice Clarity roll, and add an extra dice to the roll from the emotional rush of being hunted yourself so recently. This is the kind of experience that can make you question the reality of your surroundings and trigger buried coping mechanisms for handling a life of madness.

"Then there's no reason you couldn't send someone in your stead," Jack said, then glanced at the screen. "I could even patch you through via your screen, if you want to watch from here. You just have to turn it off." A black screen is reflective, like a mirror, at least somewhat, and this one had already reflected Jack's face. It could work. "And if you get tired of watching, you just turn it on." It sounded very tempting. And reasonable. Or they could just set up some kind of video stream, but Jack wasn't good enough with tech for all that, and it already sounded like a lot of work. His way would be simpler, he figured.

Manipulation+Persuasion+3 = 7 : 8, 7, 2, 10, 4, 6, 4, ten again 4; 2 successes.

"... ok," said the King, turning off the screen. "You can speak for me. Thanks, Jack."

A weary thumbs up briefly showed from under the blankets.

[Anarion]

Good news and bad news; your charm works, but this particular gargoyle is extremely used to sleeping in totally bizarre places, so she just sinks her claws into the side of the car, tucks her wings in, and goes to sleep right there, still hanging perfectly steady off the side of Butterfly as you tear down the highway.

And that's bad. Because now you're an actual kidnapper.

You can either pull over and prise the sleeping gargoyle off the side of your car, which will get you caught, or you're looking at a four dice Clarity roll, and add an extra dice to the roll from the emotional rush of being hunted yourself so recently. This is the kind of experience that can make you question the reality of your surroundings and trigger buried coping mechanisms for handling a life of madness.

Aelas doesn't think of herself as a kidnapper here. She probably can't just prod the Gargoyle off mid drive though. Still, the whole thing is giving her flashbacks. The Gargoyle is asleep, but Aelas starts talking to Butterfly in a kind of running banter.

[Clarity damage 7 - 2 - 3 - 10 - 8, 8. 3 successes.]

"Oh Butterfly, carry us to Rigel V. I want to see the rainbow falls, and the alpacacorns."
The car swerves onto the open road and zooms down the freeway.

"No, not to Jarban II, I hate Jarban II, ever since the dragon went there, it's nothing but lighting storms, and it makes my hair stand on end."
Aelas leans into the wheel and pulls into the fast lane.

"No, no, why are we going to Jarban II, I just said I hated Jarban II. Everyone is dead there, Butterfly! Why is the dragon making us go back?"
She floors the pedal, Butterfly goes as fast as she can down the fast lane, faster than any horse or car, Aelas is looking down into the wheel, heedless of the road, Butterfly will carry her wherever she'll carry her.

"I don't wanna go back there, Butterfly! I wanna see the Alpacacorns! Why are we going this way? Why? Why? Why?"
Butterfly goes wherever she will, and wherever the road carries a car going over 160 KPH.

[stveje]

"... ok," said the King, turning off the screen. "You can speak for me. Thanks, Jack."

A weary thumbs up briefly showed from under the blankets.

Jack bows his head, then looks at Lily, in case she has anything she wants to say or do before they leave the King to his slumber.