[Nexus] The Hunting Grounds

[C'nor]

Originally Posted by ThirdEmperor

Forest

Damn. Time bought at least, that was something.

Once more the treant leans down and sinks it's hands into the earth, this time reaching not for the trees around them but for the water, the underground reservoir that has fed this forest for ages, allowing it to grow and prosper.

So to does it reach for the flames clinging to it's branches, sapping the heat from the fire until it gutters out, taking that spark of warmth and amplifying it a hundred fold before burying it deep underground, working next upon the very bedrock that holds them up.

This is a powerful spell and one that takes a fair bit of time in the doing, but Spreagadh won't be left to her own devices long. Climbing higher into the tree, to the very tallest branches, the dire centipede coils itself and springs down towards the fey, pincers ready to taste blood. The thralled creature is not very good at jumping but height should allow it to reach her, oblivious to the fact it is meant more as a distraction than a true attempt upon her life this time.

As the centipede enters the air around Spreagadh, it may find itself buffeted off-course by sudden gusts of wind, a further effect of the protection spell. And, of course, the mist surrounding the Leannan likely makes it rather hard to aim properly in the first place.

However, if it's still on target despite all of that, when it breaches the fog, it'll find itself in a section of clear air, facing a very annoyed fae, who slashes out with a thin knife the length of her arm, trying to take the thing's head off.

[ThirdEmperor]

Forest

Whether it's rebuffed by the winds or sliced in twain by Spreagah herself matters little, as either way it fails in it's objective and, being rather larger than the sustainable size for an exoskeletal insect, explodes in a splat of nasty yellowish guts upon hitting the ground. Quite unpleasant.

What heralds more unpleasantness fast on the way is that the ground beneath Spreagadh's hiding place is beginning to rumble, buckling upwards ever so slightly and growing unpleasantly warm to the touch as the treant works it's spell. What ever could the tree be planning, I wonder?

[C'nor]

[Forest]

How delightful. She always did want to see a volcanic eruption up close... Of course, not one specifically directed at her, but still.

However, whether or not that's actualy what it's doing, Spreagadh doesn't really care at this point. Fae in general aren't known for being very forgiving, with Leannan Sidhe being rather nasty even for them, and the treant has managed to get her quite angry at it.

So, ignoring the signs of imminent peril, she reaches out magically, drawing the death energies of the various trees that she shot, the centipede, and, if possible, all of the things killed to fuel the spell that the unusually ambulatory tree cast earlier, feeding them into yet more trees, and then harvesting everything once again, starting a swift-moving chain-reaction.

Until she stops it a few moments later, that is, having gotten plenty for what she's planning to do in a surprisingly short time, as each tree multiplied her effectiveness several times over, and forcing it straight into the ground, stopping at the reservoir beneath their feet; if it works as intended, every drop of water in it should become tainted, killing or, at the least, twisting, anything that comes in contact with it, including spells.

[Mr. Moon]

Hoodoo Forest

Spoiler

Originally Posted by Terumitsu

[Hoodoo Forest]

If the mammal had the facial muscles to smile, it's face would be pulled into a wicked grin as it stepped over the dying iguana. Instead, it simply settled with it's white fangs bared as it's jaw hung open just a bit, salivation dripping from it's incisors. Though a part of it's brain was being rather paranoid in suggesting that there might still be more, the rest of it was focused on it's perceived victory. And what better way to celebrate than by taking part of this bounty before it?

Unless something wanted to interrupt it, the beast would promptly begin ripping into the meat of the reptile, tearing out muscle and devouring it without a care as it sought out blood to sate it's maddening hunger. It wouldn't be particularly satisfying as it would be if it were a sapient being but gruel to an empty stomach was just as welcome as a steak. If left uninterrupted, then the beast would have reclaimed enough of it's faculties for a long minute of deep concentration. She would be quite vulnerable at this time but she could really care less given her current state of mind. If given the chance, the form of the wolf would be shed in favor of a wiry woman with a bald head. Perhaps unremarkably, her eyes changed little from one shape to the next as their dark amber color still reflected unsated hunger. Completely uncaring that she would be getting blood all over what looked like rather dirty urban combat fatigues, the fledgeling would then return to draining the iguana of all the blood she could get while mentally marking down that she was absolutely terrible at this whole shape-shifter thing.

The iguana is over twice her size, and is not lacking for blood or muscle. No doubt this is quite a feast, and no creature steps forward to challenge her claim to it.

However, before the shape-shifting vampire can quite sate her hunger, the great iguana suddenly turns to dust beneath her. Blood evaporates on her lips; muscle, scale and bone crumble and are blown off by a sudden gust of wind. As her meal vanishes, the vampire is suddenly gifted with a new piece of knowledge. The next time she transforms into her wolf form she will discover that her paws are micro-barbed and sticky like a lizard's, allowing her to climb vertical surfaces with ease.

The Crag

Spoiler

Originally Posted by Murkus

The Crag

Caesa's smile returns at Benvolio's rebuttal. She had never seen hell, and did not intend to, but she does not doubt his claim. Perhaps she was just fooling herself.

In any case, his question demands more attention. It's even taken her by surprise, this rampant curiosity about her wanderings. Perhaps this devil's looking for a deal.

Caesa keeps her fist closed, crushing the ash and snow between her fingers. The witch's eyes dance in the fire hypnotically as she meets his gaze. She'll hold it as long as Mercutio dares to look upon her.

"Old places. Mass graves and blood-soaked mead halls. Forests where an axe has never been swung." The witch sighs. "I cannot leave for long. These places, and the things that live there, they sustain me."

Mercutio considers this new information, letting the crackling roar of the fire fill the silence. As Casea catches his gaze the devil meets it with amber-coloured eyes, divided by narrow, horizontal goat's pupils. He examines her for several long moments; similar to but not entirely how a cat would examine a caged bird. There is hunger in his eyes, a burning desire for power.

"You're trapped, then. It must be hard, to only be afforded such a limited range of motion for all this time."

[Earl of Purple]

Forest- Mateo

Mateo chooses to ignore the hoof prints, at least for now, and investigate the scent instead. He'll be cautious, and making next to no noise as he travels through the under brush- part of it is intense training on how to move silently through a forest; part of it is supernatural stealth.

[Murkus]

The Crag

"Not always. I can cross between worlds, when the moon is right," Caesa claims, eyes still locked with the devil's. Should Mercutio look up, out of some sudden curiousity, he will find the moon plump and full. Its light might be sufficient to see by, if the fire weren't glowing between them. "But... still. When I can sleep, I dream of the mortal world. Of feasts and dance, light and warmth." Her voice is pained.

There is silence, after she speaks. Even the crows cease their squawking, perhaps bidden by some unspoken command. The witch decides to let Mercutio ask his questions, and leave her own curiousity out. She has time. All the time in this world and a thousand others.

[Mr. Moon]

Forest - Mateo

Off to investigate the peculiar scent of rotted flesh and burnt moss, is it? Mateo turns his back on the far-off lights, walks away from the hoof-prints. He has to cross the river, but this is hardly an event of enough importance to visit heavily upon.

After ten or so minutes of travel, Mateo makes it deeper into the forest. He leaves behind any visible trail, having to pick his way through tangled, thorny underbrush. The closer he gets to the smell, the worse it is.

With a startling suddenness, Mateo finds himself standing on the lip of a great, wide hole in the ground. It's wide enough to accommodate a beast at least twice and half again his size. The scent is very definitely coming from in there, and this close he can add to it the smell of perspiration and biological waste.

The Crag

Mercutio doesn't bother breaking his gaze to check up on the current condition of the moon. After all, he'd already seen it on his way down. The devil considers this piece of information. If she so longed to travel, would she be here if the time was right? There is the possibility that she's lying, but Mercutio doubted that. Devils had a taste for desperation, and he felt that the pained desire in her voice was real. There were two possibilities, then. The first was that the full moon facilitated her travels and she stayed behind to see what that choice would bring. While this was possible Mercutio did not put much weight on this theory, although he did not dismiss it outright. More likely, then, was that the full moon was not the right stage of the lunar cycle.

"What would you give, Ms. Cesea," Mercutio purrs, "to be able to escape this curse? To leave this place and once more experience the delights of the mortal world?"

[Terumitsu]

[Hoodoo Forest]

The fledgeling would wind up with a mouthful of sand before she realized that her meal had vanished on her. Only seconds later did she feel a biting cold sensation that numbed her body and left her shivering for some time. Divine power tended to do that to this breed of vampire after all. Especially the potent sort.

Still, the loss of her meal, as unsatisfying as it had been, was not fondly looked upon. Though her sanity was intact, she still wanted to bite something. Unfortunately, though her transformation had returned her to a form she was much more used to, it had not removed any of the wounds she had suffered. There wasn't even a tusk left behind to use as a support splint. Or maybe a makeshift spear to sharpen. Patting down her pockets, the fledgeling found a small carton of cigarettes that were still mostly intact. Though she would heal comparatively quickly, it would take much longer than the time before sundown. Still, there was little she could do for the moment aside from pull herself into the growing shadow of a hoodoo, light up, and wait until nightfall.

[Murkus]

Originally Posted by Moon_Called

The Crag

Mercutio doesn't bother breaking his gaze to check up on the current condition of the moon. After all, he'd already seen it on his way down. The devil considers this piece of information. If she so longed to travel, would she be here if the time was right? There is the possibility that she's lying, but Mercutio doubted that. Devils had a taste for desperation, and he felt that the pained desire in her voice was real. There were two possibilities, then. The first was that the full moon facilitated her travels and she stayed behind to see what that choice would bring. While this was possible Mercutio did not put much weight on this theory, although he did not dismiss it outright. More likely, then, was that the full moon was not the right stage of the lunar cycle.

"What would you give, Ms. Cesea," Mercutio purrs, "to be able to escape this curse? To leave this place and once more experience the delights of the mortal world?"

Caesa looks at him for a very long time. Her crows start to squawk amongst themselves again, but she takes no heed. The slim, strange witch finally decides on a smile, the peaceful one she had before.

"If you want my soul, you're going to leave empty handed," Caesa proclaims, lowering her fistful of ash to the ground but not yet letting go. Her other hand makes idle patterns in the snow. "But so you don't have to repeat yourself, I'll ask: what else does a devil want?"

[Mr. Moon]

Hoodoo Forest

Night takes a long time to come, and the only companionship that arrives to pass the time with the fledgling are the small lizards, rodents and insects who scurry from place to place.

However, as the hours finally pass, the fledgling is treated to a brilliant sunset. The sky is tinted crimson and amber, as though some great celestial beings were pitched in an epic battle.

Finally, darkness reigns. The vampire is in her domain.

The Crag

Mercutio snorts, chuckling in amusement. "Ah, souls. You mortal races are so attached to them, aren't you? No, I don't want that," he assures the witch, waving a hand dismissively. "Nothing so crude and boring. But allow me to answer your question of a question with yet another question." The devil's eyes glitter with amusement as he leans forward. "What does a witch whose been trapped in such a limited space for so very long have to offer?"

[Murkus]

The Crag

"You'd understand if you had one that was worth anything," Caesa counters scathingly, despite her voice remaining placid as an underground lake. Though when he poses this new question... it puts her back on the defensive - what can she offer him? Certainly not her service. Nor her power, lest the balance be undone to Fiendish ends. And she has no wealth or loved ones that remain. "All I can offer you is my knowledge and my counsel. I have nothing more to give you." She seems to say 'you' quite specifically.

Caesa does not allow Mercutio to speak again just yet. She launches into an explanation, voice darkening for a moment. "Though before that black tongue crawls out of your throat again with talk of mortal races, know that I bear no mortal kin. I am very, very old, devil, and very wise." While there's no modesty, there's no trace of boasting in her voice. "There was a time when men would die for my secrets."

[ThirdEmperor]

Forest

The treant certainly notices as the forest around it begins to wither, the leaves carried past it the wind turning from verdant green to dry orange and then finally to ash, it simply doesn't care. The living tree is quite certain it's latest incantation has this game won. Quite certain, up until the spell is torn from it's grasp and snuffed out by Spreagadh's own invocation.

Then the treant is quite concerned.

The spell's sudden termination does not end it's effects, oh no, things are too far gone for that. By now the reaction it had begun is well past the point of no return and the continued ritual served only to aim the impending destruction so only Spreagadh would be annihilated, instead of her and the treant both.

With an ear-splitting shriek the ground gives way and a great geyser of superheated, volcanic steam explodes upwards, only a few feet from where Spreagadh now hovers. I have little doubt that between the fey's speed and her wardings this one won't even come close. This one. But this is merely a precursor, a tiny fraction of the sheer amount of crud that's about to hit the fan.

The treant has little hope of escaping. It was a slow and ponderous being even before Spreagadh's ice bound it's limbs. But it can die a good death. Try to take it's enemy with it. Perhaps even gain the goddess's blessing to try once more. Using the spells Spreagadh cast upon the wind as a connection, it tries to reach out and suppress her magic, steal away any power that she can conjure, keep her from tweening away from the destruction.

[C'nor]

[Forest]

Tweening away is quite far down on her list of priorities at the moment. Much higher is killing the treant, even if she dies in the process. And, funnily enough, it very well might be the treant's own actions that allow her to. You see, while the connection is made easily enough, the spirit the fae invoked when she called on the east wind actively resists the attempt to use her as a conduit to suppress Spreagadh's magic.

And since the treant having a connection to Spreagadh also means that she has a connection to the treant, the Leannan then tries to force a rather nasty spell of her own down the channel, one that uses her connections to life and imagination; specifically, it should give whatever the treant fears most a temporary existence.

[Mr. Moon]

The Crag

"Such hostility!" Mercutio declares, although his voice betrays how very much he is enjoying this conversation. "I offer you freedom and you insult me so. I'm wounded, truly."

Casea's done it, though. Mercutio comes from a special little corner of hell, where secrets and knowledge is horded and mortal souls are subject to the dark curiosity of knowledge devils. By offering him secrets, Caesa has earned Mercutio's full curiosity and attention - for all the good and ill that brings.

"Very well, then," Mercutio weaves his fingers and leans his chin on them. "Your knowledge and your counsel. The first now, the latter whenever I desire it. In exchange for which I will grant you freedom of movement."

[Earl of Purple]

Forest- Mateo

It's a good thing that Mateo is the kind of vampire that can cross running water. Mateo will, when he reaches the hole, probe it with every sense he can whilst trying to hide his silhouette by crouching against a nearby tree. He can penetrate the darkness much better than a human could, and his sense of smell is protesting as it tries to smell anything else down there. His hearing is also very good, and particularly adept at picking up heartbeats; if there's one in the hole, and it's not too far away, he might be able to hear it and gauge the creature's size by how loud its heart is. Just because the hole can fit something much larger than he doesn't mean it is home to something much larger than he; the builder may be dead and its home reclaimed by some other creature, like a stoat in a rabbit's burrow.

[Terumitsu]

[Hoodoo Forest => Plains?]

Now this was much better. The forced fatigue of the sun was long gone and with it, the 'curse' changed to become more of a boon. Yes, there was still the relentless craving but it was at least somewhat appeased for now. Long enough for her to find a proper meal at least.

Still, even with a form she was much more comfortable with, the damage done from the earlier fight had hobbled her. Assuming one would excuse the bad joke, of course. It was unlikely that more.. Prey could be found around here though. It was still odd thinking of things in those terms now for the fledgeling. Although it wasn't much of a change from before her turning, some things still felt out of sorts even when they had no discernible reason to.

Putting out what had been her third cigarette in the sand, she stored the remainder in the carton and pocketed it before pushing herself to her feet with a groan. The leg still wasn't quite fit for real use but she could at least put a bit of weight on it now. So, using the occasional rock face as support, Ghoul would move eastward in search of something, or perhaps someone, that could help her with the 'problem' of a somewhat empty stomach. With luck, she might even run into them along the way...

[Murkus]

Originally Posted by Moon_Called

The Crag

"Such hostility!" Mercutio declares, although his voice betrays how very much he is enjoying this conversation. "I offer you freedom and you insult me so. I'm wounded, truly."

Casea's done it, though. Mercutio comes from a special little corner of hell, where secrets and knowledge is horded and mortal souls are subject to the dark curiosity of knowledge devils. By offering him secrets, Caesa has earned Mercutio's full curiosity and attention - for all the good and ill that brings.

"Very well, then," Mercutio weaves his fingers and leans his chin on them. "Your knowledge and your counsel. The first now, the latter whenever I desire it. In exchange for which I will grant you freedom of movement."

"No. You will grant me power. Energy. Something that can sustain me," the Witch protests. Although the simplest way would be to grant her a young body that doesn't need to suck life from the world. "And in return... what would you like to know? A charm, or a curse on your enemies? My paths through the Aether?"

[Mr. Moon]

The Crag

At Casea's offer Mercutio lets out a laugh, somehow managing to be dark and sinister in his merriment. "How weak you think me!" declares the devil. "Am I to you a child who can be tempted by such gaudy toys, charms and curses and pleasant strolls? No, my dear witch, it seems you misunderstand my intentions. Perhaps I was not clear." His smile falls from his lips and he fixes Casea with a deadly-serious stare. "When I say I want your knowledge, I do mean all of it."

Forest - Mateo

Mateo will discover that while the hole goes quite deep, its decent is a rather slight slope. From deep inside he can hear the rhythmic sound some great beast breathing in its sleep, no doubt amplified by its cavernous surroundings. Suddenly, with a great snort, the rhythm cuts off. It is replaced by an echoing sound of sharp inhaling, as though the owner of the breath were trying to identify a strange new smell.

[Murkus]

The Crag

"Of course," Caesa anticipated something like this, but had not expected Mercutio to be so demanding so soon. "But I couldn't possibly relate all that I know in a single night." She looks at him steadily, thinking he might have some dark magic in mind for such a purpose.

[Mr. Moon]

The Crag

It would appear that Caesa's suspicions, at least this time, are correct. Mercutio smiles dryly, standing up. "Fear not. I have access to methods to... accelerate the process."

Without waiting for an answer from the witch, Mercutio steps away from the fire. With a sweep of his tail, he clears out a semicircular area in the bones and detritus that so cluttered the ground. Vashti clings to his shoulder, hudling up into the curve of his neck. She wasn't particularly pleased with how close he was getting her to the crows. "If you'll excuse me, though, I need to gather some tools first. I'm sure I can trust you not to leave."

[Earl of Purple]

Forest- Mateo

Mateo isn't breathing, and is staying absolutely still; he doesn't have a heartbeat, so is likely nigh-undetectable by ear alone. However, he does have a unique scent. He smells of stale blood, humanity, and of fresh corpse. He doesn't smell of death, nor of grave-earth; he's not dead, not really, and he's never had a grave.

[Murkus]

Originally Posted by Moon_Called

The Crag

It would appear that Caesa's suspicions, at least this time, are correct. Mercutio smiles dryly, standing up. "Fear not. I have access to methods to... accelerate the process."

Without waiting for an answer from the witch, Mercutio steps away from the fire. With a sweep of his tail, he clears out a semicircular area in the bones and detritus that so cluttered the ground. Vashti clings to his shoulder, hudling up into the curve of his neck. She wasn't particularly pleased with how close he was getting her to the crows. "If you'll excuse me, though, I need to gather some tools first. I'm sure I can trust you not to leave."

Caesa isn't sure she trusts this fiend - no sane person truly would - but consents anyway. Perhaps she's got a chance after all. "By all means. I will commune with the Crag. But please, do not make me wait long."

The crows shriek at the pair, rather suspicious of the devil and his pretty bird, but make no move. They are an extension of her will, after all, however capricious the birds might seem.

[Mr. Moon]

Foest - Mateo

There is a deep, low grunt from deep inside the cave. The sound of movement, slow and lumbering. From the shadows, a great troll emerges. A burly, vaguely humanoid creature. He has at least enough modesty to wear a dirty loincloth, but naught else. Moulted green-grey skin is covered by thick, coarse black hairs. Muscles and fat ripple as he moves, walking on hind legs and knuckles like a gorilla. The smell of burnt moss seems to be coming from the troll. Looking around the darkness, his round and beady eyes come to a stop on Mateo. His bulbous nose flairs once, twice, as he sniffs the air, as if to make sure the scent that had roused him was, indeed, coming from the vampire.

And then it leans forward and roars.

The Crag

The devil smiles but does not further respond to Caesa, even though her demand that he be swift tickled him. As far as Mercutio was concerned, he had the card advantage in this little exchange. Perhaps she had some tricks he had not predicted, but so vain was he that her belief that she could make demands of him brought a smile to Mercutio's lips.

Crouching down, Mercutio's spade-tail dips into the dirt. He scratches out a pentagram first, before adding runes in between the lines and circles. Each mark is careful and deliberate, and would drive a mortal mind to madness if they tried to study it. When the portal is complete, he drops into a kneeling position, pressing his palm against the dirt. The runes begin to glow the bright red of hellfire, growing brighter and brighter until the light envelops Mercutio. Then with a sudden flare, the light disperses. Mercutio is gone, his runes with him.

[Murkus]

The Crag

Caesa does not avert her eyes when the light flares violently. She watches, all the way up to Mercutio's disappearance. The witch sighs, her breath visible on the mountain air.

The ancient crosses her legs beneath her, shutting those beady eyes. In a flash, the crows descend upon her, enveloping her like a blanket of twisting shadows, their cries echoing into the sky above. Face stony as the mountain, she falls into a trance, restraining her emotions for the time being.

The fire roars ever higher, lapping up a few falling flecks of snow with starved eagerness. A great storm comes. Any in the region would do well to seek warmth or shelter.

[Mr. Moon]

The Crag

At least an hour passes, maybe two, with no sign of the devil. Perhaps time moves differently between the Nexus and Hell. Perhaps he's occupied or having difficulty procuring certain elements of whatever plans he has. However, after a fair but not extraordinarily long absence, the devil returns.

With a puff of smoke and a flash of hell-fire, Meructio appears standing at the far side of the fire. He's holding a very large, very old looking tome, cradling it with both arms. Should Caesa not react to his arrival, he'll alert her to his presence with a very polite cough.

[Earl of Purple]

Forest- Mateo

A troll, hmm? Well, that's annoying; most trolls need fire or acid to kill properly, and both are things which are equally adept at killing vampires properly, too.

Mateo's not too worried, though; just because most trolls regenerate doesn't mean this one does. He's encountered both forms of trolls before; the non-regenerating ones tended to be slightly more dangerous- they were smarter, and willing to use common misperceptions to their advantage. He would roar back, but he can't compete with a troll. So he grins, showing off his enhanced fangs as his fingernails elongate, sharpen and curl slightly. He quickly lunges forwards, fangs and claws aimed at the troll's throat.

[Murkus]

Originally Posted by Moon_Called

The Crag

At least an hour passes, maybe two, with no sign of the devil. Perhaps time moves differently between the Nexus and Hell. Perhaps he's occupied or having difficulty procuring certain elements of whatever plans he has. However, after a fair but not extraordinarily long absence, the devil returns.

With a puff of smoke and a flash of hell-fire, Meructio appears standing at the far side of the fire. He's holding a very large, very old looking tome, cradling it with both arms. Should Caesa not react to his arrival, he'll alert her to his presence with a very polite cough.

Caesa's eyes flutter open at the cough, and the crows scramble away with a painful cacophony. They either hop away and peck at the bones or flutter back up the sides of the crag, but at least one eye of each never leaves Mercutio.

"I haven't been this impatient in a very long time," Caesa states casually. "Are you ready?"

[Mr. Moon]

Forest - Mateo

Mateo's claws merely scratch the troll's thick, bark-like hide. But his enhanced fangs have no trouble cutting through its hide to the blood that runs below. Tasting of moss, the reddish fluid runs down the troll's neck and past Mateo's lips. But not for long: With a roar of rage, the troll attempts to grab the vampire, and hurl him against a tree.

The Crag

"More or less." Mercutio smiles. "While I was in Hell, I got to wondering how, exactly, I could grant you the power you requested. I've come up with two options. The first is a recent acquisition of mine - an area of land with inherit magical energies I've been siphoning. It'd be a simple matter to transfer control of those energies to you, and I've no doubt it'll be a great boon to you. However it seems rather simple. And so I propose to you a second option." The devil sits, balancing his tome carefully on his lap.

"I have an enemy here, an enemy of great power. He possesses a Spark, you could call it. A great and powerful magical ability that provides the owner with the ability to command armies with but a word and travel throughout the multiverse. If subdued, I should be able to perform a ritual to transfer that Spark from him to you. But if that is what you desire, then you will need to play a role in the brute's defeat."

Mercutio leans forward, smiling as he watches Caesa, eager to hear her choice. He does, of course, fail to mention that he also possesses a Spark; although Caesa may be able to detect it in him now that he has described it to her.

[Murkus]

The Crag

The witch's face quickly becomes hard to read. Mercutio's certainly provided her with some interesting possibilities. She mostly considers the second option, for several reasons. Not only does it sound more prudent, if Mercutio fails to deliver the energy promised, she can always take his Spark.

"What sort of role?" Caesa asks. She typically uses proxies or her minions for dirty work, even if she's very capable of destroying an enemy alone. If it's fighting Mercutio wants her to do, on top of giving up her greatest secrets, he may owe her more than the Spark.

[Earl of Purple]

Forest- Mateo

Mateo resists being pulled off, but can't anchor himself just by his teeth. So he's thrown into a tree, possibly with a lump of troll-flesh still in his mouth. If so, he'll spit it out (in case it can grow into a whole new troll) and jump upwards, catching a branch and clambering along it to the trunk.