[Changeling IC] Time's Wings: Dark Omens

[Anarion]

"Herald," says the Judge, speaking to Aelas. She is the only one he addresses for it is her duty to carry his words to the worlds beyond. His voice is familiar as the wind and falling into the role of Herald is natural as singing. "Announce to your peers that the ritual will begin imminently. Each of you has sinned profoundly and this will be taken into account when calculating your sentences, but, of course, freedom awaits as always in the fire."

Aelas bows in obedience, though she does not speak immediately. A herald needs certain things. She walks over to Longarms, after all there's a game to begin and she has to herald it properly. She reaches into his bag (yes, his bag, it's obvious that that's where things are) and pulls out her herald's staff, the one that the Judge had given to her but that she had left behind. Every herald has a staff [discreet summons with catch] and hers was a long, light cypress pole with a curl wrapping about itself at the end a full head taller than Aelas herself, but it came right out of that bag with no trouble, and Longarms could wait until the games were heralded properly.

That done, she rapped the staff upon the ground once, twice, thrice, and as the wind rose, her hair and swirled about her, glowing in every color madly as she raised her voice.

"THE JUDGE HAS COME. THE RITUAL SHALL BEGIN IMMINENTLY. EACH OF YOU HAS SINNED PROFOUNDLY AND THIS WILL BE TAKEN INTO ACCOUNT WHEN CALCULATING YOUR SENTENCES, BUT, OF COURSE, FREEDOM AWAITS AS ALWAYS IN THE FIRE"

and with that, she thumped her staff upon the ground once more and then awaited the commencement of the ritual.

[Thanqol]

Lily watches him, he was nothing like she had imagined him to be. She wasn't sure exactly what she had expected, perhaps a surly teenager in pizza-stained pyjamas, an all-black goth with more piercings than teeth, but it wasn't this.

She scooched over to him and started to help him right himself even if she wasn't exactly pulling him off the floor. She was on the floor herself and her efforts amounted to little more than to gather him up in her arms. She was a little scared to handle him too roughly, he felt fragile, as if his body was a manifestation of a brittle mind.

"For whom do you cry?" she asked.

He barely seems to hear you. He certainly doesn't respond. He's been caught in this state for as long as you've known him and a dude doesn't spend literally a month in bed weeping if he can be shaken out of it with a little care and a gentle question.

Academics 3 with folklore speciality: That said, a thought does occur to you - the legend of the Fisher King. The Arthurian King caught in a cycle of grief and mourning all the landscape changed to reflect his misery. With the magic of faerie being such as it is you wonder how much of the town's sicknesses might extend from its broken monarchs. You also wonder if this is not, in fact, any sort of natural depression - it seems so comprehensive, so resistant, so enduring it might have more common cause with a curse, or a wound.

[It's a manipulation+empathy roll at -10 to get through to him. Good luck. You can bring that number down by finding more information (magically or otherwise) about him.]

[Elanorin]

He barely seems to hear you. He certainly doesn't respond. He's been caught in this state for as long as you've known him and a dude doesn't spend literally a month in bed weeping if he can be shaken out of it with a little care and a gentle question.

Academics 3 with folklore speciality: That said, a thought does occur to you - the legend of the Fisher King. The Arthurian King caught in a cycle of grief and mourning all the landscape changed to reflect his misery. With the magic of faerie being such as it is you wonder how much of the town's sicknesses might extend from its broken monarchs. You also wonder if this is not, in fact, any sort of natural depression - it seems so comprehensive, so resistant, so enduring it might have more common cause with a curse, or a wound.

[It's a manipulation+empathy roll at -10 to get through to him. Good luck. You can bring that number down by finding more information (magically or otherwise) about him.]

Lilly pulled him a little closer and placed his head on her shoulder. She shuffled a little until she could rest her back against the side of the bed. She pulled his covers over to cover them both. She imagined the cold was as comfortable to him as it was to her but it felt kinder to wrap him up. She'd never seen a being so broken as this and it could not just be because he'd lost a dog or been dumped by someone. The way this town was, it just had to be more to it, and she had a feeling Spring was involved somehow.

She wasn't going to get much out of him like this, that much was clear. That only really left one thing. It was probably not a good time, it was probably unwise to do it alone. But since some people had more important things to do she was on her own and so she would do her best to deal with it... on her own.

She pulled over his pillows and puffed them up to lean her head on and then closed her eyes, her arms wrapped gently around the skeleton king, patting soft repetitive pats on his shoulder. Like that, she invited sleep, and hoped it would fall over him as well so she may meet him in Dreams one more time.

[TheAmishPirate]

Of course

The benches are rimmed in cold bluewhite light, and the wind that issues out of the tumultuous sky is hot

He was taken once, so why shouldn't he be again

you played the game for freedom that was the deal scoured red as a newborn lamb and pure, raw, skinned

the words the sage replied: of course, for how else could I have met you fill with fire, a cold bluewhite, on his neck, burned too deep to heal

when he stomps on the court, as is tradition, the stone splinters under his claws

the wind that raises cinders from his burned hair is hot, hot as the fires lit, and he cannot feel his finger's tips from the cold

only one goes free, and as always, as ever, as it should be, it will not be him

where is zotzie, why aren't they

they promised, they

the bluewhites of his eyes flare and lick at his sockets, and how could any of you have ever thought, ever thought, he was human again

and the greatest of these is chastisement

Game on.

And a single arm - hardly thicker than the beast's claw - blocked his way, and forbade even one more stomp.

"Well, tough. I got asked to play magic basketball, so we're gonna play magic basketball." And Aelas wanted it too, so suppose that meant the nays had it. But the big guy didn't budge so easy, no matter how much he silently nodded. Edmund too was fluent in the language of unspoken lies.

"Look. Bring it here." He put himself before the two of them. "Forget fire. Forget pain-stars. All you gotta do is..."

"...follow my lead." The Prince commanded.

Aelas bows in obedience, though she does not speak immediately. A herald needs certain things. She walks over to Longarms, after all there's a game to begin and she has to herald it properly. She reaches into his bag (yes, his bag, it's obvious that that's where things are) and pulls out her herald's staff, the one that the Judge had given to her but that she had left behind. Every herald has a staff [discreet summons with catch] and hers was a long, light cypress pole with a curl wrapping about itself at the end a full head taller than Aelas herself, but it came right out of that bag with no trouble, and Longarms could wait until the games were heralded properly.

That done, she rapped the staff upon the ground once, twice, thrice, and as the wind rose, her hair and swirled about her, glowing in every color madly as she raised her voice.

"THE JUDGE HAS COME. THE RITUAL SHALL BEGIN IMMINENTLY. EACH OF YOU HAS SINNED PROFOUNDLY AND THIS WILL BE TAKEN INTO ACCOUNT WHEN CALCULATING YOUR SENTENCES, BUT, OF COURSE, FREEDOM AWAITS AS ALWAYS IN THE FIRE"

and with that, she thumped her staff upon the ground once more and then awaited the commencement of the ritual.

Well wait a little longer, Herald.

Edmund stepped to half-court, every step perfectly measured and perfectly natural, and of course his gait took him precisely before the line. He planted his feet, crossed his arms, and no strength of star-spawned horror could move him.

(The Hunstmen could not resist a gloat, yes? To revel in a moment of triumph, when neither moment nor triumph was his? Especially when one of his quarry was so close, and so defiant?)

When the Hunstman had said their piece, Edmund's voice rang out,

"The defense will make its opening statements."

[Anarion]

"The defense will make its opening statements."

Aelas looks to Edmund with admiration. Obviously, there was a judge, this was a trial. And that meant...she had heralded the wrong thing! Oh no, oh no. The judge had said to say what she said, but he was a judge and Edmund was obviously right, and now she needed to do the heralding again! Yes, obviously, more heralding was needed, double time.

"THE DEFENSE WILL MAKE ITS OPENING STATEMENTS" she cried out to make sure that everybody around had heard.

[stveje]

"Oh yes, also undigested neighbourguest bait friend," said Jack brightly. "Lawbreakerman said not to eat the bait until he does the trick on the black goat and hit me until I agreed. But he didn't say anything about sharing. You want to eat the bait?"

Oh, a glimmer of good news. Well, better news ... better than feared, at least.

"If we eat her," not-Jack said carefully, "then we can't invite her to the next party. Then she can't be our friend anymore." That ship probably sailed the moment she was kidnapped by this monster ... unless they made her forget the whole ordeal. Jessica too, maybe. Note to self, find way to erase memories, or hide them somewhere they can't be found. Could come in handy here.

Does not-Jack know of such a thing? I assume not with no training in Occult, but that's what asking is for.

[Thanqol]

"Yes," the Judge Transcendent muses to himself. "The defense? Edmund is quite right, actually. It is good to see that he is still capable of impressing me. Now that every one of my errant wards has been returned to me and everyone is back at their jobs, then we may as well hang two birds with the same trial. Herald, announce for me that the goblin Longarms is a bottomless pit of degenerate larceny and he should be held to account for his many sins."

"Wait - wait wait wait," said Longarms, eyes filling with genuine panic. He was even daring to speak out of turn, even though he didn't have the courage to look the Judge in the blindfold. "I did my bit! I got you the prisoners! I didn't even shark you or nothing! At least, not yet! You've got to let me go free!!"

"Herald, inform the accused that I need do no such thing," said the Judge Transcendent blithely. "He must earn his freedom the same as any other. Begin the ritual!"

A comet struck the field. A burning sphere of glass smelted in star-heat and sanded smooth with interstellar debris. The sign is given. The game has begun.

While Longarms is distracted and disoriented, the two brutes he rustled up as backup lunge forwards. One is a troll thick and rocky and muscular, the other is three goblins in a trenchcoat standing atop each others shoulders. Even in this Longarms has cheated and it is three verses five. The troll sails directly at the Pilgrim with monotonic inevitability, while the goblins throw rocks and make rude gestures as they rush for the comet.

Lilly pulled him a little closer and placed his head on her shoulder. She shuffled a little until she could rest her back against the side of the bed. She pulled his covers over to cover them both. She imagined the cold was as comfortable to him as it was to her but it felt kinder to wrap him up. She'd never seen a being so broken as this and it could not just be because he'd lost a dog or been dumped by someone. The way this town was, it just had to be more to it, and she had a feeling Spring was involved somehow.

She wasn't going to get much out of him like this, that much was clear. That only really left one thing. It was probably not a good time, it was probably unwise to do it alone. But since some people had more important things to do she was on her own and so she would do her best to deal with it... on her own.

She pulled over his pillows and puffed them up to lean her head on and then closed her eyes, her arms wrapped gently around the skeleton king, patting soft repetitive pats on his shoulder. Like that, she invited sleep, and hoped it would fall over him as well so she may meet him in Dreams one more time.

You enter the realm of dreams. Through the gate of horn or the gate of ivory, who is to say?

But before you bridge into the King's dream you briefly pass through one of your own. Tell me of the dream you pass through as you enter his sleeping mind and how it reflects on your dress and manner. You may wish to take some things from your own dream because his will doubtless be dangerous.

Oh, a glimmer of good news. Well, better news ... better than feared, at least.

"If we eat her," not-Jack said carefully, "then we can't invite her to the next party. Then she can't be our friend anymore." That ship probably sailed the moment she was kidnapped by this monster ... unless they made her forget the whole ordeal. Jessica too, maybe. Note to self, find way to erase memories, or hide them somewhere they can't be found. Could come in handy here.

"Mirrorface will tell Jack more about this next party," said Jack sharply, almost threateningly. "And the first party. And where mirrorface gets his supposedly bottomless well of parties. Does it manufacture them? Does it dare?"

Does not-Jack know of such a thing? I assume not with no training in Occult, but that's what asking is for.

The Market is the best I can say. Memories are valuable and you can always turn a coin by selling a bad one.

[TheAmishPirate]

"Yes," the Judge Transcendent muses to himself. "The defense? Edmund is quite right, actually. It is good to see that he is still capable of impressing me. Now that every one of my errant wards has been returned to me and everyone is back at their jobs, then we may as well hang two birds with the same trial. Herald, announce for me that the goblin Longarms is a bottomless pit of degenerate larceny and he should be held to account for his many sins."

"Wait - wait wait wait," said Longarms, eyes filling with genuine panic. He was even daring to speak out of turn, even though he didn't have the courage to look the Judge in the blindfold. "I did my bit! I got you the prisoners! I didn't even shark you or nothing! At least, not yet! You've got to let me go free!!"

"Herald, inform the accused that I need do no such thing," said the Judge Transcendent blithely. "He must earn his freedom the same as any other. Begin the ritual!"

A comet struck the field. A burning sphere of glass smelted in star-heat and sanded smooth with interstellar debris. The sign is given. The game has begun.

While Longarms is distracted and disoriented, the two brutes he rustled up as backup lunge forwards. One is a troll thick and rocky and muscular, the other is three goblins in a trenchcoat standing atop each others shoulders. Even in this Longarms has cheated and it is three verses five. The troll sails directly at the Pilgrim with monotonic inevitability, while the goblins throw rocks and make rude gestures as they rush for the comet.

Insanity.

Noun.

To perform the same action over and over again, expecting a different result.

Did that count, though, when there's always a finger on the scales? A subtle wind, that cared not for the wishes of helmsman nor sails? He'd performed so many actions, in so many places, to so many people. And the Story decreed the same result, every time. Well. Maybe every time. The jury was still out on that one, and the day's evidence had stirred deliberations anew. But on the charge of madness, their verdict was unanimous; stacked scales, tricksy winds, it didn't matter. He was not right.

He was a fool.

He was standing at halfcourt, directly in front of the ball.

"Ah, hell with it," he grumbled, and cast off his cloak. Tall and proud he stood, starlight catching in his raven hair. His peasant rags could not hide his majesty, no more could a blade of grass conceal a lion. The troll must have been taller, surely, but now it seemed nothing more than a pale imitation of strength. But a glance from him, and the brute would certainly crumble to penititent dust. If the goblins could find words capable of besmirching his name, their tongues would burn to utter them. Longarms had called him here. The figure in the stars had commanded the game begin. But this night did not belong to them.

It proceeded at the Prince's behest.

[Activating The Royal Court. And this one's a doozy so I'ma just copy the effects here:

Setting himself up as leader during a meeting, the changeling can prevent violence from breaking out. No matter how rowdy or hostile negotiations get — even if that assassin came here fully intending to kill him — none of the people gathered can inflict bodily harm on another. If anyone present is under a supernatural coercion to commit violence, the changeling and the force behind the coercion engage in a Clash of Wills. This Contract does not stop violence if it's already started.

Fairest bonus: The Fairest's protection extends to Social interactions; targets can’t intimidate or threaten each other, but they can still engage in pleasantries to foster goodwill.

As no harm has yet to be done, violence has not yet started, and now cannot start. No insults, intimidations, or threats can be made. And unless I'm much mistaken, both handing down judgements and declaring a Hunt would fall into that category. ]

Edmund whipped his coat around the smoldering star, took it in his hands, and calmly strode off the field. It would not do to play with such a thing; why, if he were to pass it to one of his allies, they would certainly suffer harm. He couldn't have that. And if anyone should hold a different opinion on the matter, they were welcome to pleasantly discuss it with him while he was on his way to both dispose of this monstrous thing and secure a suitable replacement.

[Anarion]

Herald, announce for me that the goblin Longarms is a bottomless pit of degenerate larceny and he should be held to account for his many sins."

"Herald, inform the accused that I need do no such thing," said the Judge Transcendent blithely. "He must earn his freedom the same as any other. Begin the ritual!"

Insanity.
Edmund whipped his coat around the smoldering star, took it in his hands, and calmly strode off the field. It would not do to play with such a thing; why, if he were to pass it to one of his allies, they would certainly suffer harm. He couldn't have that. And if anyone should hold a different opinion on the matter, they were welcome to pleasantly discuss it with him while he was on his way to both dispose of this monstrous thing and secure a suitable replacement.

Aelas gathers herself for further announcements. "THE GOBLIN, LONGARMS IS...IS...THE UH...THE JUDGE NEED..." but Edmund is there, and he's taken his cloak off, and he's standing up straight. Straight! And suddenly she's that stupid high school kid that wandered off in search of knights in shining armor and her eyes were positively sparkling. Her whole body swirled in happy yellows and the words died in her throat. And then, when Edmund whipped his coat around and calmly strode away, well obviously, Aelas whipped her hair around in as good an imitation as she could manage, nodded once (very seriously!) and strode right after him.

[Elanorin]

You enter the realm of dreams. Through the gate of horn or the gate of ivory, who is to say?

But before you bridge into the King's dream you briefly pass through one of your own. Tell me of the dream you pass through as you enter his sleeping mind and how it reflects on your dress and manner. You may wish to take some things from your own dream because his will doubtless be dangerous.

Lily's own dream... it is as comfortable as it is shameful. It is winter. It is The Palace on a rare but lonely day. He is Away and the magic is abandoned to its own devices for a few precious hours. Or maybe they are days. She never could tell time here. The walls are cold, the fireplaces beat back the chill from outside just enough. Every room is lit with candles. It is quiet, through the tall led windows the snowy wind outside is all that can be heard aside from the crackling of the nearest fire.

For a few stolen moments she is no longer the slave, but the Queen. She dares to put on the vivid and impossibly beautiful dress she knew He hid in the wardrobe of one of the west wing bedrooms. It was as if it was woven from pure magic and wearing it was her only delight in this place. Then she dances, and as she did the palace filled with music, or maybe it was just in her mind, it was impossible to tell, and it didn't matter. Not while she was Queen. She danced, with whatever partner she found, a coat stand, a broom, or just on her own.

But she did not have time to dance now. For she must step outside and in to the snow. Last time she visited his dream she had sought to help him by serving him and she had barely reached him at all. Perhaps a fallen king has no use for a servant, but perhaps a Queen might just save him. She decided to keep the dress on and headed for the enormous front doors of the palace. They still frightened her, even here, in her own dream, but a Queen did not slip out the kitchen door.

She found her old satchel lying limp in a corner. Its worn leather and fraying shoulder strap just as she remembered it. She'd been wearing it when she had first been brought here and lost it soon after arriving. Inside it were the things she'd taken with her on her way to school that day. Keys. A phone. Some tissues. A wallet with only change in it. A small notebook and a pen. She smiled at the familiar items. It had been so long, she'd all but forgotten about this. Then she felt the weight of the little bag and pushed the items to one side to find something that decidedly had not been there before, a gun. A beautiful but frightening gun. She shut the bag quickly, but left it in there. Something was speaking to her and she needed to listen. She had no idea what she was going to face.

She pulled the strap over her head and hung the satchel over her shoulder to rest on her hip.

"You're looking to find the king?"

"Yes," she said.

"You'll need this, then."

She felt a weight on her head and looked over to the mirror to see a crown appear. Slender metal tendrils weaving in and out, knotting and twirling to form beautiful patterns, snaring sparks of light and setting them as jewels within its work. It fitted her perfectly, as if made just for her, and by the looks of it, it had been. Within its delicate filigree were little roses and snowflakes. It caught the light and reflected it in a dancing pattern on the floor and the walls, but only in the direction of the door. It was showing her the way. In the mirror she saw her dress shift to let the old worn messenger bag settle neatly in to a fold, easily accessible but almost hidden. The strap looked more like the sash of a royal order as it stretched across her body. She marvelled at the sight in the mirror, barely recognising herself. It was her yet not, it was a future her that she never got.

She pulled a rich fur-lined cloak over her shoulders and opened both doors at once, letting the snow burst through and swirl around her before she stepped out of her dream, hoping she was ready.

[Raz_Fox]

And here's our friend the Pilgrim catching up to Edmund with long, nervous strides. "...incorrect," he says. This isn't how things are supposed to go. You're supposed to put the star into play. There's no traditional first contact avoidance maneuver or whatever Edmund thinks he's doing here, and he can't even find the words to explain just how monumentally wrong this is. What they're doing is sacred, it's supposed to be, and just when he thinks he understands what's going on here the floor gets pulled out from under him again, leaving his stomach churning.

He's supposed to be the one who knows what's going on. The guide in the wilderness, the stoic mountain who endures. The trick is that the tasks are nigh-impossible, but they are simple, for all that. This is confusing and everything about this is wrong, wrong, wrong. What will the stars say? What will the Judge say? This is too much. There are ways this is done!

He reaches out to stop Edmund, but his claws fall short and his hand slumps once more to his side as he pads along, unable to even ask what is going on, what Edmund thinks he's doing, only able to express his disapproval through the way he looms at the princeling's side.

[Thanqol]

As no harm has yet to be done, violence has not yet started, and now cannot start. No insults, intimidations, or threats can be made. And unless I'm much mistaken, both handing down judgements and declaring a Hunt would fall into that category. ]

Edmund whipped his coat around the smoldering star, took it in his hands, and calmly strode off the field. It would not do to play with such a thing; why, if he were to pass it to one of his allies, they would certainly suffer harm. He couldn't have that. And if anyone should hold a different opinion on the matter, they were welcome to pleasantly discuss it with him while he was on his way to both dispose of this monstrous thing and secure a suitable replacement.

That snapped Longarms out of it. He recognized a Dirty Trick when he saw one and, no matter what else was going through his mind, the King of Goblins was not going to be upstaged. He snapped his fingers and made a set of hand gestures to his minions. It wasn't exactly sign language but any goblin could recognize when they were being told to distract a mark.

The troll burst out directly in front of Edmund, a goofy grin full of termites and sawdust. It spread its arms and three smaller goblins leapt upon its shoulders. Each of them was playing a musical instrument - a miniature grand piano, an accordion, and a set of cymbals. Immediately all three goblins began to play a cacophonous bashing of sound and the troll began to dance with all the fiery passion of Andalusia.

And in the midst of all that, Longarms grabbed the star from under Edmund's arm and replaced it smoothly with a cute little piglet. He was the Grabber, after all. He was so good at stealing things they made him king.

[Longarms is picking your pocket. He's excellent at it. Each of you can makes a wits+composure or wits+subterfuge roll at -8 to notice the attempt and stop him]

She found her old satchel lying limp in a corner. Its worn leather and fraying shoulder strap just as she remembered it. She'd been wearing it when she had first been brought here and lost it soon after arriving. Inside it were the things she'd taken with her on her way to school that day. Keys. A phone. Some tissues. A wallet with only change in it. A small notebook and a pen. She smiled at the familiar items. It had been so long, she'd all but forgotten about this. Then she felt the weight of the little bag and pushed the items to one side to find something that decidedly had not been there before, a gun. A beautiful but frightening gun. She shut the bag quickly, but left it in there. Something was speaking to her and she needed to listen. She had no idea what she was going to face.

She pulled the strap over her head and hung the satchel over her shoulder to rest on her hip.

"You're looking to find the king?"

"Yes," she said.

"You'll need this, then."

She felt a weight on her head and looked over to the mirror to see a crown appear. Slender metal tendrils weaving in and out, knotting and twirling to form beautiful patterns, snaring sparks of light and setting them as jewels within its work. It fitted her perfectly, as if made just for her, and by the looks of it, it had been. Within its delicate filigree were little roses and snowflakes. It caught the light and reflected it in a dancing pattern on the floor and the walls, but only in the direction of the door. It was showing her the way. In the mirror she saw her dress shift to let the old worn messenger bag settle neatly in to a fold, easily accessible but almost hidden. The strap looked more like the sash of a royal order as it stretched across her body. She marvelled at the sight in the mirror, barely recognising herself. It was her yet not, it was a future her that she never got.

She pulled a rich fur-lined cloak over her shoulders and opened both doors at once, letting the snow burst through and swirl around her before she stepped out of her dream, hoping she was ready.

On your left were rolling hills covered in verdant green grass, hills that had never known fence nor tree. On your right was the pacific ocean, rushing and crushing against a beach of white sand and patchwork-worn and jagged rock. Cliff faces wait defiantly for the day the ocean finally breaks them. The car runs so smoothly you might as well be flying along the road. The sun hangs cool and bland above and the sky is a sedate grey patched with blue.

The ocean is blue. You know the blue, you can see that rich, dark, black colour which darkens, darkens, darkens out as the salt waves roll out. But there is a blue beyond the blue, a monstrous shadow in the depths. A vast weight that fills you with wordless terror even glancing at it. This dream world revolves around that ocean and the immensity of what it conceals.

Bones are mix't in amidst the sands. Not bones of violence, this is not battlefield or graveyard. They are like driftwood, cast upon the shore without judgement or thought.

[Raz_Fox]

The Pilgrim knows fury.

He picks the troll up and tosses the troll back down. Legal move. One clawed limb pins the clanging clangorous jester down. How dare you? How dare you? Any of you? All of you? This is sacred! You wouldn't do this in a church, you don't do it on the field. You take it seriously because it's the way out. It's the only way out. It's what gives us meaning. That you're burning away all the bad parts of you. The prayer is the suffering.

"How dare you."

He looks up, into the sky, and sees there:

starlight that burned his eyes away

tears at the corners of his sockets

judgment

a small fluttering of bats' wings because a promise is a promise

and his voice breaks.

"How dare you? Here?" He licks his lips, which are too dry, cracked.

"Here?" Here they do not have respect. Here they do not need to be burned. Here the rites are a joke.

Here there is Aelas, and she does not need to burn.

"Why?" Why was my sacrifice not enough? Why do you want me to go back? Why do you want me to hurt? What did I do wrong? Did I not love Aelas and Edmund and Lily and the other one enough? Did I forget the words on my skin, they're all still here, I can recite them, just please, please, tell me. What can I do to make it right? How can I hurt for them?

I played everything by the rules. There are rules. You are rules. Why was that not enough?

[Elanorin]

On your left were rolling hills covered in verdant green grass, hills that had never known fence nor tree. On your right was the pacific ocean, rushing and crushing against a beach of white sand and patchwork-worn and jagged rock. Cliff faces wait defiantly for the day the ocean finally breaks them. The car runs so smoothly you might as well be flying along the road. The sun hangs cool and bland above and the sky is a sedate grey patched with blue.

The ocean is blue. You know the blue, you can see that rich, dark, black colour which darkens, darkens, darkens out as the salt waves roll out. But there is a blue beyond the blue, a monstrous shadow in the depths. A vast weight that fills you with wordless terror even glancing at it. This dream world revolves around that ocean and the immensity of what it conceals.

Bones are mix't in amidst the sands. Not bones of violence, this is not battlefield or graveyard. They are like driftwood, cast upon the shore without judgement or thought.

Lily pulled over at the next slip roadand drove down and on to the beach. She parked and turned off the car. She watched the terrifying sea, that seemed to wait for something, or someone. She really hoped it wasn't her.

She rolled down the windows to listen to the waves, trying to hear what manner of sound they made. Did they simply crash against the shore, just water to sand with nothing to tell, or was there a tone to them, telling of what they hid below, what they had seen as they rolled across the ocean to finally touch land?

Lily wondered if she would have to venture in to the sea. She really didn't want to, not least because it would get her dress wet.

[stveje]

"Mirrorface will tell Jack more about this next party," said Jack sharply, almost threateningly. "And the first party. And where mirrorface gets his supposedly bottomless well of parties. Does it manufacture them? Does it dare?"

"Manufacture? No no, one does not manufacture a party, one arranges it," not-Jack says. He knows that much. "But if you want to learn about parties, I know two people who can teach you much more than I can." He glances at his phone ... well, it's probably best to start with Lily rather than Aelas. Don't want to overwhelm him. "How are you with dreams?"

[Thanqol]

"Why?" Why was my sacrifice not enough? Why do you want me to go back? Why do you want me to hurt? What did I do wrong? Did I not love Aelas and Edmund and Lily and the other one enough? Did I forget the words on my skin, they're all still here, I can recite them, just please, please, tell me. What can I do to make it right? How can I hurt for them?

I played everything by the rules. There are rules. You are rules. Why was that not enough?

There was the flash of fire.

"Longarms plunges into the flame," announced the Judge Transcendent, the contemptuous curl in his voice cutting through all distraction. There was another impact as the star fell to the centre of the ring again. "Perhaps Isaac has forgotten how to focus? Herald, announce the beginning of the second round."

Already both goblins and troll were abandoning their instruments and racing for the star.

"Manufacture? No no, one does not manufacture a party, one arranges it," not-Jack says. He knows that much. "But if you want to learn about parties, I know two people who can teach you much more than I can." He glances at his phone ... well, it's probably best to start with Lily rather than Aelas. Don't want to overwhelm him. "How are you with dreams?"

The crocodile skull gave an uneasy recoil. "Mirrorface does not know?" it murmured. "After all the torments and teasing it has inflicted? Very well, lie to it. Jack is excellent with dreams, yes yes."

Lily pulled over at the next slip roadand drove down and on to the beach. She parked and turned off the car. She watched the terrifying sea, that seemed to wait for something, or someone. She really hoped it wasn't her.

She rolled down the windows to listen to the waves, trying to hear what manner of sound they made. Did they simply crash against the shore, just water to sand with nothing to tell, or was there a tone to them, telling of what they hid below, what they had seen as they rolled across the ocean to finally touch land?

Lily wondered if she would have to venture in to the sea. She really didn't want to, not least because it would get her dress wet.

The sea ached with betrayal, with sorrow. Bitter cold and saturated in hurt. The salt spray, the bones were fresh and clean but the ocean was as tears. Here and there bones hung together in ways they shouldn't rather than merely piling up, as though arranged. Hands emerged from the sand, improbably-hanging finger bones giving thumbs up or throwing gang signs. Skulls seemed to chatter their teeth. There were beach kiosks, a strange little round red building selling ice cream and sunscreen in the middle of nowhere, next to a public restroom. By the edge of the beach strange, rubber weeds grew in and amidst the sand.

Not-Jack and Jack were with you. Perhaps they'd been all along, it was hard to tell.

[Elanorin]

The sea ached with betrayal, with sorrow. Bitter cold and saturated in hurt. The salt spray, the bones were fresh and clean but the ocean was as tears. Here and there bones hung together in ways they shouldn't rather than merely piling up, as though arranged. Hands emerged from the sand, improbably-hanging finger bones giving thumbs up or throwing gang signs. Skulls seemed to chatter their teeth. There were beach kiosks, a strange little round red building selling ice cream and sunscreen in the middle of nowhere, next to a public restroom. By the edge of the beach strange, rubber weeds grew in and amidst the sand.

Not-Jack and Jack were with you. Perhaps they'd been all along, it was hard to tell.

"The King's in the deep, isn't he?" Lily asked, without turning her eyes away from the waves. "I guess we need a boat."

Then she turned and noticed not-Jack and his appearance sunk in for the first time. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened but she quickly closed it again.

"Uhm… is- is he... quite safe?"

[stveje]

The crocodile skull gave an uneasy recoil. "Mirrorface does not know?" it murmured. "After all the torments and teasing it has inflicted? Very well, lie to it. Jack is excellent with dreams, yes yes."

"What torments and teasing?"

What had he gotten himself into?

"The King's in the deep, isn't he?" Lily asked, without turning her eyes away from the waves. "I guess we need a boat."

Then she turned and noticed not-Jack and his appearance sunk in for the first time. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened but she quickly closed it again.

"Uhm… is- is he... quite safe?"

Jack, you mean.

He-whose-name-wasn't-Jack looked at the tears licking the bone beach, then around at the mention of needing a boat. A boat ... yes, he could get a boat! Surely. One of the kiosks or other buildings might have a boat sitting unused, chained up maybe.

"He's ... a challenge," he said. "He seems interested in, uh, parties and making friends. I've kinda promised him he can have two parties. First a dinner party, and I'm sure Aelas can arrange a second party of ... some kind."

[Anarion]

Aelas looks to Edmund, still regal in his splendor, and to the game proceeding, and to the Judge. He had told her to do something, but obviously without the proper wording, and she liked Edmund's plan.

She liked it quite a lot, actually, and people here were compelled not to do her violence. It also, quite frankly, was not entirely clear where here was, and she would bet you quasars to white dwarfs that Butterfly could appear here in all her splendor. She was the herald's horse after all. So, she whistles [-1 glamour] and there's her horse and she's already mounting her in motion, faster than any real horse because Butterfly is a cosmic courser and here, here, she is revealed in all the glowing splendor of her rainbow main that mirrors Aelas' own. It's almost blinding (but almost, Edmund has not permitted violence, after all) and she's ahead of the goblins, ahead of Longarms, ahead of the wind itself and making a darn good run at outracing Thought, if it were in this competition. So, she scoops up the orb and Butterfly is already sprinting back to Edmund and running after him and Aelas is laughing like she's utterly lost her mind, the flaming sphere mixing with all the other mutlichroma as she shoots like a jet out of the field, her last image of an arm beckoning Edmund and Isaac to follow and her calling over her shoulder "The second round has started!"

[Raz_Fox]

Isaac laughs. He laughs. He laughs because he is crying. He laughs. It is dry, hoarse, croaking. He has not laughed here before.

Around the goblins’ heads comes a flash of blue streaking from the sky, a skitterleaping gigglemockery, wings beating furiously as Aelas passes by, because a promise is a promise. Run, little delight, run and run and Zotzie shall do for you.

Isaac is emptying himself of himself. What will be left? This is ridiculous. Give him half a brick and a sock and he will tear down heaven to get an answer.

[Thanqol]

"The King's in the deep, isn't he?" Lily asked, without turning her eyes away from the waves. "I guess we need a boat."

Then she turned and noticed not-Jack and his appearance sunk in for the first time. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened but she quickly closed it again.

"Uhm… is- is he... quite safe?"

"Old King Kent?" said one of the skulls on the beach. "Why, he's right here! Ha ha! And over there! Ha ha!"

"Ha ha!" laughed the skull the first skull had been referring to.

"Ha ha!" laughed an unrelated skull.

"HA HA!" laughed the entire beach of bones, all at once.

"If it's a King you need, then pick one up!" said the skull. "If it's a boat you need, go join the yacht club. But if you want to take the waves? You have to surf."

"What torments and teasing?"

What had he gotten himself into?

Jack muttered tetchily to itself but did not elaborate.

Jack, you mean.

He-whose-name-wasn't-Jack looked at the tears licking the bone beach, then around at the mention of needing a boat. A boat ... yes, he could get a boat! Surely. One of the kiosks or other buildings might have a boat sitting unused, chained up maybe.

"He's ... a challenge," he said. "He seems interested in, uh, parties and making friends. I've kinda promised him he can have two parties. First a dinner party, and I'm sure Aelas can arrange a second party of ... some kind."

"Mirrorface has been elaborating on the mechanisms and vectors of manurranging parties, yes yes yes," said Jack pleasantly, picking up a femur and staring at it appraisingly. "Apparently all parties must go through both battered housewife and paint bucket, so here we are."

It sniffed and dropped the bone. "Battered housewife should store bones better. All the meat has burned off. Should go to my house, Jack's stock is much better."

There were boats about, but they were ugly, leaky, clunky, punctured, unseaworthy things - King Kent seemingly has a low opinion of boats. You could fix one up if the idea of manufacturing a surfboard out of skulls seems too dangerous for you to handle.

Serious note: It may legitimately be too dangerous for you to handle. Kent is a surfer and the waves hitting that beach look insanely scary.

Aelas looks to Edmund, still regal in his splendor, and to the game proceeding, and to the Judge. He had told her to do something, but obviously without the proper wording, and she liked Edmund's plan.

She liked it quite a lot, actually, and people here were compelled not to do her violence. It also, quite frankly, was not entirely clear where here was, and she would bet you quasars to white dwarfs that Butterfly could appear here in all her splendor. She was the herald's horse after all. So, she whistles [-1 glamour] and there's her horse and she's already mounting her in motion, faster than any real horse because Butterfly is a cosmic courser and here, here, she is revealed in all the glowing splendor of her rainbow main that mirrors Aelas' own. It's almost blinding (but almost, Edmund has not permitted violence, after all) and she's ahead of the goblins, ahead of Longarms, ahead of the wind itself and making a darn good run at outracing Thought, if it were in this competition. So, she scoops up the orb and Butterfly is already sprinting back to Edmund and running after him and Aelas is laughing like she's utterly lost her mind, the flaming sphere mixing with all the other mutlichroma as she shoots like a jet out of the field, her last image of an arm beckoning Edmund and Isaac to follow and her calling over her shoulder "The second round has started!"

You're dodging three goblin and a troll to get away with that ball. They're not particularly clever but they don't have to be to do a little grabbin'. They're not exactly Longarms though.

Roll Strength+Athletics, -3 penalty from the goon squad, and add Butterfly's merit dots as bonus dice on the pool.

[TheAmishPirate]

Isaac laughs. He laughs. He laughs because he is crying. He laughs. It is dry, hoarse, croaking. He has not laughed here before.

Around the goblins’ heads comes a flash of blue streaking from the sky, a skitterleaping gigglemockery, wings beating furiously as Aelas passes by, because a promise is a promise. Run, little delight, run and run and Zotzie shall do for you.

Isaac is emptying himself of himself. What will be left? This is ridiculous. Give him half a brick and a sock and he will tear down heaven to get an answer.

A hand clasps his shoulder. Turns him around. There stands a regal face so filled with thunder, there may be no room left for mercy.

"She needs you."

And Edmund is off, carving a path through the crowds by force of personality alone. He finds a taxi, slaps down a handful of bills, and commands, "Follow that rainbow!"

[stveje]

There were boats about, but they were ugly, leaky, clunky, punctured, unseaworthy things - King Kent seemingly has a low opinion of boats. You could fix one up if the idea of manufacturing a surfboard out of skulls seems too dangerous for you to handle.

Serious note: It may legitimately be too dangerous for you to handle. Kent is a surfer and the waves hitting that beach look insanely scary.

"We could use those old boats to make a board. Wood is a bit more stable than bones, I think ... we could still decorate it with skulls," He-whose-name-wasn't-Jack mused, clearly meaning to say should not could. "But it's been a long time since I surfed, and those waves may be a bit out of my league." He actually seemed sad at that; the idea of surfing obviously appealed to him.

Then he seemed thoughtful and added, "But what's the worst that could happen?"

[Anarion]

Aelas races and laughs and her world is a sparkling rainbow. And she waits. She keeps a firm hand on the orb, Butterfly galloping down the road of Proserpine like a streak of lighting. And she waits. Butterfly is still galloping, the cloppity clop of her hooves as she races over the asphalt and into the heart of town. And still, Aelas waits.

Why? Why isn't the sky changing? Her laugh quiets in her throat. Why is Butterfly still a horse?! She should be a car, there should be normal people, this shouldn't be happening. The star burns in her hands, flame of the heavens. "Butterfly, what's happening? Why isn't anything changing?" But the horse only whinnies.

Think Aelas, think. Edmund thought this would be fixed if we just took the game away, but it's not. Isaac's a dummy and is planning to sacrifice himself for everyone else, which is soooo not happening. Argh, she was not good at this. Where was Lily? Lily was the good thinker, she made all the plans and stuff and always seemed to know what to do. But she didn't seem to be anywhere and Aelas didn't know where to find her. Everything was broken, the Judge shouldn't be able to be here like this, there were promises, like with the seasons. It was the wrong season, that's the problem isn't it. It's the wrong season and that means the promises don't hold. It should be Autumn. How could she get them to change it? She needed both of them, summer and autumn to get together, they'd be able to fix it. She didn't know where Autumn was though, maybe she should have, but she couldn't remember. So, summer to start. This was gonna suck.

"Butterfly, head to the trash dump, fast as you can." "Whinny" said the horse and turned, their rainbow fire leaving an easy wake to follow.

[Raz_Fox]

That? That was the right answer, probably. If not the winning move, a fine one. One that gets our friend the Pilgrim moving, albeit in patterns old enough he can live by them for now. Defend. Protect who is yours. Be willing to make the sacrifice play.

In a storm of smoke, a pillar of swift wind, Isaac follows after the arcing rainbow, heedless, a danger to all in his path an they not be his outcast family. Bar no portal against this raging wind, and trouble not the bearer of the star, lest you be torn apart to be stitched once more whole by goblin apothecaries.

[Elanorin]

"We could use those old boats to make a board. Wood is a bit more stable than bones, I think ... we could still decorate it with skulls," He-whose-name-wasn't-Jack mused, clearly meaning to say should not could. "But it's been a long time since I surfed, and those waves may be a bit out of my league." He actually seemed sad at that; the idea of surfing obviously appealed to him.

Then he seemed thoughtful and added, "But what's the worst that could happen?"

"I really hoped not to get this wet," Lily said with a small voice, feeling both guilty and defeated as she gestured at her fantastical dress and crown. It wasn't like her to be vain, but this dress was Special. This dress was what had held her thin shred of sanity together in all those years of winter and darkness.

Lily did her best not to be disturbed by not-Jack's guest, and decided to just let all that stuff he just said slide but she couldn't quite take her eyes off him. He was like that concerningly large spider in the corner of the room that probably was just minding its own business and couldn't harm anything larger than a fly, yet you wanted to make sure you knew where he was.

"Why... why don't we fix up one of those bigger boats? Maybe the biggest one? It might take the waves better."

[Thanqol]

"Butterfly, head to the trash dump, fast as you can." "Whinny" said the horse and turned, their rainbow fire leaving an easy wake to follow.

The trash dump it is.

Still the Judge Transcendent looms in the sky. The ritual does not end just because you leave the ring. You have possession of the star and it is theirs to steal it.

At the same time, he does not stop you - nor does he seem surprised at your sudden exit. This, too, is your role - to bring his messages to the furthest corners of the cosmos. You were never made to wear chains - his words are inside you wherever you go, ready to burst from your throat when the time is right.

The world fades to the Hedge and the hedge fades to the world, like the lights of passing cars through a window at night. The rubbish dump is a heap of wreckage crowned with fires. Finally, the Judge speaks.

"Ah, yes. I know this one. He is a criminal who defied the Rituals and lead a mass escape. He, too, is called to judgement."

*

Edmund and Pilgrim's taxi screeched to a halt a few minutes behind Aelas. The driver - a cold, patrician man with black sunglasses and wearing a suit and tie that in no way fits his beat up white-checkered sedan - gives a murmuring "Cash only, friend."

It was a death defying ride. This guy's a lunatic behind the wheel.

"We could use those old boats to make a board. Wood is a bit more stable than bones, I think ... we could still decorate it with skulls," He-whose-name-wasn't-Jack mused, clearly meaning to say should not could. "But it's been a long time since I surfed, and those waves may be a bit out of my league." He actually seemed sad at that; the idea of surfing obviously appealed to him.

Then he seemed thoughtful and added, "But what's the worst that could happen?"

"I really hoped not to get this wet," Lily said with a small voice, feeling both guilty and defeated as she gestured at her fantastical dress and crown. It wasn't like her to be vain, but this dress was Special. This dress was what had held her thin shred of sanity together in all those years of winter and darkness.

Lily did her best not to be disturbed by not-Jack's guest, and decided to just let all that stuff he just said slide but she couldn't quite take her eyes off him. He was like that concerningly large spider in the corner of the room that probably was just minding its own business and couldn't harm anything larger than a fly, yet you wanted to make sure you knew where he was.

"Why... why don't we fix up one of those bigger boats? Maybe the biggest one? It might take the waves better."

Lily, to repair a boat is an intelligence+crafts roll (plus your repair speciality). It's an entirely doable task, but the penalty is at -3 because you will be facing terrible waves to come.

Formerly-Jack, remember you have a contract for helping people in situations like this. I think the original wording of the contract makes it surprisingly unhelpful - take it as a +3 bonus instead. Note to get the loophole through you've got to accept payment from Lily though.

[TheAmishPirate]

Edmund and Pilgrim's taxi screeched to a halt a few minutes behind Aelas. The driver - a cold, patrician man with black sunglasses and wearing a suit and tie that in no way fits his beat up white-checkered sedan - gives a murmuring "Cash only, friend."

It was a death defying ride. This guy's a lunatic behind the wheel.

He is, isn't he?

Edmund threw down a stack of bills, took note of the man's number for future reference, and left before the question of change could be asked. He strode into the junkyard after Aelas, expecting the Pilgrim to follow.

[Anarion]

Aelas does wait for Edmund and Isaac to get there. She wants to explain her plan before she starts a panic. Also, muscle kind of helps. "Okay, so, like, the Judge is here (bee tee dubs, he says that he knows the king of summer and calls him to judgment too) and we're stuck even when I raced all across town with this star thing. So, what I'm thinking is that, like, this isn't supposed to be possible, but it's happening cuz the seasons are all messed up and so we're not safe like we should be, so I want to get summer and fall together and have them do the season handoff and then that might let us, like, push the Judge away and get out of the ritual. And I came here first cuz I don't remember where fall hangs out sooooo...yeah, that's the plan."

[stveje]

"Why... why don't we fix up one of those bigger boats? Maybe the biggest one? It might take the waves better."

"Probably safer that way," he agrees, only a little disappointment, but it's overshadowed by the far more rational part of him.

Lily, to repair a boat is an intelligence+crafts roll (plus your repair speciality). It's an entirely doable task, but the penalty is at -3 because you will be facing terrible waves to come.

Formerly-Jack, remember you have a contract for helping people in situations like this. I think the original wording of the contract makes it surprisingly unhelpful - take it as a +3 bonus instead. Note to get the loophole through you've got to accept payment from Lily though.

Formerly-Jack certainly won't ask Lily for payment, what kind of loyal friend does that? But doesn't a good dog deserve a treat? Look how eager he is to help holding things, bringing the right stuff, saying words of encouragement ... who wouldn't reward such helpfulness? Who could look into those big puppy-dog eyes and not reach into their pocket for something?

*

Lily takes +3 on her Craft roll.

Health [ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ]
Clarity [A][M][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ]
Willpower [x][x][x][x]
Glamor [x][x][x][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ] Two less if Lily doesn't pay him something for his trouble