The young Harvestman scout, Mark Rider, is a brisk and energetic Spring with green-streaked skin mottled with bark patches, grassy hair and bright, bright lemon yellow eyes. He's dressed in armour which is worn, but serviceable, and has a longbow, a dagger and a Glock.
Once he has gathered a group together, he sets out across the river to the slopes of Mount Mischance, taking the path down the mine to the very bottom and the still pool there. Being a responsible sort, if not the most martially gifted, he nonetheless warned all members of the group about the perils of the lightsippers -- or lifesippers, should one prefer their less friendly appellation, protecting himself from their attacks with a veil of sharpened thorn vines.
He pauses once the party has gotten out of the caves, taking stock .. and giving the healer time to work.
It's a lovely day above the Thorns. Below them, where the group lingers, the bright sunlight above is weakened, shaded, only fleeting dappled glimpses tearing through the strangling labyrinth of briars and tangled trees.
The mermaid travels light on her feet, and insubstantial: she left little footprints if any before she Separated, and none once she became intangible. With what looks like a map case across her back, and a blue-green otter in a sling on her back. She absently chews on the bit of meat that Iris offered her; the insubstantial mermaid, a wisp that's seen through, map case and all, can pick up small objects still, and maybe Etsy's just showing off. Or maybe she just can't resist the urge to chew on proffered meat. Rocking absently back and forth on her toe-tips, she hums to herself, an absent little siren's song, swaying in a current that only she feels.
Why is C.B. Alexander here, anyway? It's not like anyone invited him along, but he was in the right (wrong?) place at the right (wrong?) time, and decided to join in on this excursion, for better or for worse. Fortunately, he was as prepared for the Hedge as he can get, wearing a combo of reinforced and camo gear and basically looking like some survivalist gone Lost. Rather than his usual Leftist-button-covered messenger bag, he's got on a camo backpack, out of which currently peeks the gray and white fluffy paper head of Yossarian, his HBC cat. He's walking somewhere near the back, scowling to himself, kicking rocks, muttering things about stupid excursions as white and blue and silver lightning crackle protectively all around his form.
Iris usually makes of herself a good target. A bright, colorful, wildly plumaged target. Today is no exception, even if she has done something rather atypical for her and actually put on armor and brought a weapon with her. The fact that tie-dyed kevlar vests are actually a thing might be a surprise to some people, but apparently Iris knows where to buy them, or at least who to talk to in order to get more colorful body armor. At least the long bow she's carrying is normal, even if the fletching on all the feathers she brought crosses the entire visible spectrum. There's an all too eager grin on her face, like she's just waiting for everything to go wrong so she can do something AWESOME.
Ash was, of course, completely unprepared for a trip through the Everdark. He doesn't even really know the local Hedge yet. He was encountered by the Harverstmen as he plodded slowly through the Hedge, in no particular hurry to go anywhere. Being the weekend it hadn't seem like a very good time to meet up with the head of the Greenies to talk about a job so he was occupying his time getting the lay of the land. Fortunately for him he had a large basket woven from plant-growth slung over one shoulder that was practically overflowing with blushberries from a trove he apparently stumbled across, along with a double-handful of catseye clover, so while he lacked the proper protection for the journey through the caves the seven foot tall giant nevertheless emerged looking absolutely fine, though he did wonder why no one else seemed to think to bring their lunch with them.
Ashe is without a very large Gargoyle today. Byron must be having a night off. The Shadowsoul floats along as the cross from the Everdark and then her feet hit the ground again once out. The Black Apple pendant that sits on her bare throat digs in once they have started again. The pendant plumps up with her blood as they walk. Her rifle is settled over her shoulder as well. She doesn't think she's going to need to use it though.
Behind them, in what he would later demand was merely 'defending their flank', was Cassian. The movement of Scouts near his cold little world drew his attention, but it wasn't until he noticed a pair of familiar footprints that he seemed interested beyond torturing the poor, under-talented scouts. It wasn't their fault--After all, Darkness was his legacy.
Stooped low, Cassian's stilleto fingertips brush over Etsy's footprints, as thin, knife-blade ears are perked to the sounds of their fellowship. He was armored, as usual, and the bow remained slipped over his shoulder as he followed along--If we he was spotted he didn't want anyone getting the wrong idea. A sniff of the air, and in a moment Cassian is gone again, following the foliage to catch up. He had to be extra cautious in the Dark, and it slowed him down.
Alonso has worked rather closely with the Harvestmen on more than one occasion, owing to his friendship with their cockroach in chief. So he's an easy one to pull into these shenanigans. So he collects his gear and follows the others through the Mischance and the Everdark and winds up out ahead of the group once they emerge, his hedgebeast eagle on his shoulder and his bow in his hand as he surveys what little can be seen of the path ahead. Briars don't precisely make for distant horizon lines. "So," Alonso inquires of their guide, "what has brought us this far out this evening, eh?"
Mark Rider turns from his inspection of the path when Alonso speaks to him, hand never leaving the vicinity of his gun. His voice is a fairly average tenor, unremarkable, but assured when he explains, "There were signs of a fairly large group. Boots, not hooves or claws. I caught a glimpse, but they had some scouts out, so I came back. We're going to have to go off-trod, more likely than not." Speaking of which, he turns to Etsy to assure, "I'm real glad you came along, Greenie." Taking a step aside so he can see the rest of the group, he raises his voice enough to be heard to the back and tells them, "Everyone, form up. If you can fight, stick to the outside. Noncombatants, take the middle. I'll go point. Who's taking tail?"
C.B. is giving Etsy a rather wide berth, but he wanders somewhere up next to Alonso when his fellow Harbinger speaks to Mark Rider. Gives him a sort of squint-eyed upnod, though doesn't linger on Alonso long for whatever reason. Instead, he frowns over at Mark and asks, "Define 'fight,' grasshead. I mean, I have guns, but I'm not exactly a soldier. How bad do you think this's gonna be?" He squints harder. Squint, squint, squint! "Or do you even have any idea? We just fleshy meatshields to you?"
"I've got the tail!" Iris declares at that, and she turns around to wiggle her actual, literal tail back and forth before taking up a position where she can watch the party's backtrail. Though for anyone who knows Iris, they might realize that's likely to last about as long as it takes for an enemy to appear in front of the group. Then she'll probably just charge into the midst of them. "I don't know about you, but I am a flesh meatshield," she remarks to CB. "An awesome one."
Humming gently to herself, Etsy flashes the scout a smile that shows no teeth, sweet and delicate. She listens, her sea-change eyes sliding from mildly-brackish to deep-olive, the darker, mid-deep waters. "Is a gladness to be doing a goodness as Greenies and be here, a Harvestmans," she asserts. Just as CB is giving her a wide berth? Etsy somehow manages to keep most of her back to CB preeeeetty much all of the time. She couldn't more obviously be ignoring him if she wrote SHUN SHUN SHUN down her back. "If is getting a stucks, can get the everyones out of a Hedges, is why am bring the mirrors and the mrbl."
The otter, perched in its carrier, leans its head on Etsy's shoulder, its blue, feathery eyebrows -- a bit like feelers -- waving gently in an unseen breeze, the same way Etsy gently rocks back and forth in a current only she feels. Her ridiculously-strong Mantle spreads out around her, sprawling vines and tiny white flowers, the sea-scented air washing clean around her like a lovely Spring morning.
"I'll take the tail..." Ashe states as she lifts an alabaster looking hand. The Shadowsoul then starts to drops back a few feet, but Iris calls it first. There's a smile, "Or she will." there's a nod to that. She then keeps her eyes focused on the surrounding hedge. Not minding a fight if they have to get into one, but not wanting to get in the way of others.
C.B. turns his squint upon Iris -- then his squint turns into a wide-eyed stare. "What the /hell/ are you wearing?" he has to ask, gesturing to the tie-dye Kevlar vest because...well, does he need a reason? Then he says, "No, I'm nobody's fucking meatshield -- not without cause." He's not in the Freehold, he sure as heck ain't gonna die for it. He watches Etsy for a moment and mutters under his breath, "Yeah, get everyone out of here except me, no doubt." But he actually sounds like he feels a little guilty or something? For whatever reason.
"No, you takings a tail, minute is fights, is Iris going AWESOMES, and will do a charging," Etsy asserts, and then the mermaid just can't help herself and spits, venomous as a snake, "You got your free trip, asshole."
Mark Rider watches C.B. when he wanders up toward the front, yellow eyes alert. The insult goes unremarked upon, and he keeps his voice pitched to be audible for the entire group. "No fight at all, if all goes well, but I saw at least five heavily armed humanoids. Standard procedure to check up on strangers between the Market and our Gates, sir. We don't want You Know What slipping agents in without our knowing."
Since it seems the tail issue has been arranged to the group's liking, he lifts a hand and indicates the trod ahead. "Let's move out. Keep an eye out for tracks. I'll lead us up to the point where I saw them last." And with that, he starts out, walking at a brisk, purposeful stride which covers ground without being too wearying.
Ash just remains silent and watches as everyone mills about. He's a complete newcomer here and with no clue as to who the players are the huge woodblood decides it best to keep his own council.
It wasn't spoken, but, Cassian loved a fight. Why wouldn't he? Stooped low, with a knife-ear perked high to listen, he observed. It wasn't until the Chromatic Dragon decided to take up the rear that Cassian adjusted, relaxing to avoid the reptile's senses. He'd have to give her a few paces extra--She was a little more aware.
C.B. is usually acerbic and argumentative, but he just sighs when Etsy gets venomous at him. He actually cringes and looks away, at pretty much /anything/ but her. Yossarian pokes his fluffy head out of the backpack and says to C.B., "We will find a way. Don't worry." "Who's fucking worried?" mutters the Wizened, sighing and adjusting the backpack.
Mark Rider gets a nod, although a dubious eyebrow raise as he's called 'sir.' "Alright, fine. We'll see how this goes." That's his way of saying he will take the perimeter. He withdraws a pistol from the concealed strap at his hip and turns the safety off, frowning as he starts to tromp along.
"It's a tie-dyed kevlar vest," Iris explains, because that's exactly what it is, and she looks down at it. "Why, did it look like something else? I haven't turned it into a token by accident, have I?" She sounds like she's concerned she actually might have. Then she looks back up, grins at CB with a mouth full of terrifying dragon teeth, and says, "they're our comrades! What more cause do we need? From each according to their ability, and all that jazz." And then she gives Ashe a little salute and admits, "an Etsy is probably right. You take the back, I'll take the headlong charging into danger. Or into successful conversation, if that's what we end up doing." Then she follows after Mark Rider.
"Iris is right, Mark. She'll soak up whatever trouble hits our tail for certain. We've worked together before." Alonso gives Iris a lift of his empty hand and a sort of salute. Hello. Thank you. Yes, good choice. "I'll watch your back, for that matter." Alonso lifts his bow in indication towards their scout. "Just try not to get into any trouble I can't kill, eh?" Alonso gives the younger scout a wry grin, then turns his attention over to C.B. "Everyone is equally expendable, comrade. Just find a place you know you will be useful, and be as useful as you can be until you are dead." He claps the other man on the shoulder twice, giving him a broad and easy smile. "Like a true communist." With that, Alonso turns his attention back to the task at hand, which for him appears to be shadowing their lead scout.
Ashe's reaches up to poke at one of the stitches in her cheeks. Damn annoying things sometimes. That's when the bat at the back of her neck skitters out and onto the top of her head, "Where are we?!" he squeaks at her in a soft, but concerned tone. "We're in the hedge." she tells him with no concern. Uvall then flattens himself onto her head and sticks his wings up like he's a huge bow.
C.B. snerts at Iris. "You look like you're part of Ken Kesey's SWAT team. It's ridiculous." To Alonso, C.B. has to nod, though he looks a bit chagrined. Almost like he's been caught doing something bad. "I just like to know /why/ I'm about to die, y'know? That's a fair enough question, isn't it?" He's actually ended up walking along probably not far from both Iris and Alonso, in fact, lightning and gun at hand.
The illusory-looking, insubstantial mermaid beams at Iris when she uses the mermaid's own phrasing to talk about her, and goes back to humming to herself, some pop-sounding little love song kind of thing. Etsy is a cheerful mermaid today, far more cheerful than usual, even setting aside her brief spit of venom at CB. She takes a spot nearish to the front but not right at the front, because she's the healer, and you don't put the squishies in the vanguard. Even if the squishies are the insubstantial, hard-to-hit squishies.
He may be young, but he knows where he's going, and he follows the trod unerringly on its path through winding trees and massive roots. Several times, there are tracks of some kind or another, and each time, he halts the group to examine them, but none are what he is looking for. Eventually, after a good half hour of walking through the tangled, thorny labyrinth of vine-strangled trees, he calls a halt again. "Here. I was here when I first saw them off the path." He steps up to the edge, carefully parting the thorns with gloved hands, then moves a few steps to the side to check another area, searching, but not yet leaving the trod. "Look for bootprints."
As everyone is told to start looking for bootprints Ash turns his shaggy head skywards and starts looking around at the branches of the nearby trees. Apparently the large woodblood is something of an idiot.
"You're not going to die," Iris scoffs, making a dismissive wave with a taloned hand. "Well, I mean, you are, because it's a natural consequence of living, but I don't think you're going to die today, in any case." She follows Mark, chattering all the while like being in dangerous places like this is just a casual stroll. Because she's crazy.
Ashe and Uvall stop when the halt is called and the creepy duo start to look for bootprints. There's a bit of a look around and towards the back. But she doesn't spot anything right off the bat. No pun intended. She gives a look up towards the front after that. Seeing if anyone else caught anything.
C.B. frowns as he looks around for bootprints, but sharper eyes see them first. To Iris he scoffs back, "Says the lady with the tie-dye Kevlar vest. Yeah, forgive me if I don't take everything you say as the highest wisdom." So judgmental! Then he takes a beat-up flask out of the pocket opposite his holster, unscrews it, and takes a long drink.
"If you do die today, C.B., I'll be sure to clean your browser history." Alonso gives the man another sidelong glance, and another grin. Apparently he's taking all of this as another day at the office. When they finally do reach their destination, Alonso moves to the edge of the trod and pulls a dagger out to begin poking at the foliage and cutting some of it away to get a clearer view of the soil beneath it all.
Cassian was getting bored. They hadn't even made contact with the enemy and already people were arguing. For a moment he considered just opening up a part of the Hedge to see how they'd react to whatever existed in the periphery of their current location, but, somebody would end up calling it a 'Greivance' and try Dueling him.
OHH--Hey, a bat. Wait--Could the bat see him? Dragons used their tongue to smell, right? What did bats use? Does a bat have to squeak when it uses echolocation? Cassian is now lost to thoughts on Bats.
For once, Etsy actually looks at CB. This is clearly why she doesn't see the bootprints first: because she's turning around to stare at the Wizened. Even insubstantial, that's one hell of a stare. She flicks her flower-strewn hair and turns her back again, humming to herself, and points -- but not until well after the Spaniard has spotted the footprints in question.
"Ah. Well done, Mark. Right to the spot." Alonso nods his confirmation to Iris and rises back to his feet, sheathing his dagger once more behind his back. "I believe our dragon has the right of it. If they spotted you, they might have left a rear guard to lay an ambush, so we ought to be a bit more careful from here on out." He ticks his chin towards Mark, "Shall we?"
Mark Rider backtracks to where Alonso is searching, nods, and tells the rest of the group, "Stay close, and don't forget to look up. Some of the beasties around here like to lay ambushes. Just glad the giant spiders don't tend to come this far out..." He waits a moment, then moves cautiously off of the trod, holding the thorns back for those behind him to follow.
C.B. takes one last quick...okay, long drink before recapping the flask and putting it away again. He listens to Alonso, then Mark, and immediately stares up at the canopy, like he's expecting something to drop down on them at any moment as he follows along. "You really know how to inspire a group with confidence, you know that?" he snipes at Mark, because he can. Someone needs to put a combination lock on that mouth.
"Oooh, giant spiders. Are they cute?" Iris asks, and not with any evident sarcasm. More like she's actually eager to experience this novelty. See previous references to her sanity. "I've been learning all about the importance of looking up, though. Lots of things like to hide in the trees these days." Then she heads after Mark. And actually stops talking, too.
Mark, still calm, holds the thorny brambles back to keep them away from even C.B., only quietly telling him, "Not here to give you confidence, sir. Here to keep you alert so you don't die. Only polite."
"Do we need an aerial view of what's coming up?" Ashe asks of Mark as they continue on. Because she had a bat and well...other tricks. The mention of giant spiders makes the Autumn look to Mark. "Well, if they come out this far we're going to either ride one home or have hedge ingredients." she chuckles darkly as they go along.
"You have a looking ups, I have a looking forwards, and then a switches," Etsy asides to her hedgebeast; the mrbl's blue-gren fur shimmers whenever thin amounts of sunlight get through the canopy and manages to touch on its fur. The mermaid slides in to the shadows, insubstantial and unseen as best she can be. The otter's little human-like hands absently play with her hair. It likes the flowers, apparently. It pulls out a flower that doesn't belong there, though, a lily that is a slightly different color than the others, and smacks the mermaid on the head with it, twice, before ripping it apart in a fit of apparent pique.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever," C.B. mutters at Mark. He's keeping his voice down, but it doesn't stop him from rambling as they go along. "Doesn't matter. Would take more than cheerleading from a guy with ladybugs in his ears to give /me/ any confidence." He snorts over at Iris, shaking his head at her. Yossarian's big yellow eyes gleam out at the world, but he is much less mouthy than his Lost companion.
"You will complain about the food in heaven," Alonso sighs towards C.B. before ducking off the trod and onto the trail of their quarry. He's quiet now, keeps generally low to the ground, and advances on light feet, picking his way forward.
Mark looks to Ashe, considering the branches overhead. "Couldn't hurt, ma'am, if you're offering." He keeps his voice down, and once the rest of the group is through the border of the trod, he edges along toward the front again, searching for the prints. Certain of the party may notice hints of oddly shaded blue and golden foliage in the corner of their eyes, but when next they look, those signs are gone. They are still visible ahead, however.
Ashe gives a nod to Mark, "On it." the woman states. Then she's reaching up to pet Uvall. The Fairest closes her eyes and after a tap from her Uvall flits up into the air, wings flapping as he climbs higher. And suddenly there isn't Ashe anymore, just a large bat with wings that follows Uvall. Creepy Autumns.
"Not going to heaven anyway," C.B. grumbles to Alonso, but he's trying to keep his voice down, too. Still, what's a wacky adventure without some witty banter, eh? Nothin', that's what. Which is why he adds: "'Sides, not like it exists." He stares up, suddenly startled, as Ashe turns into a bat and follows Uvall up into the heavens. It briefly distracts him from the odd foliage, and the look about him is getting increasingly more paranoid. He holds the gun a little closer to his face.
"Nice!" Iris says, watching the bat fly off into the air, because it is kind of a cool trick. Then she continues on her way, unconcerned and overly confident as she usually is. It's probably not wise, but it has always worked out for her before. She may as well be on a walk in any normal park, for all the worry she displays.
Cassian kept a loose follow until Ashe decided to ... well, go batty. That certainly made things a little easier for him. So, he's able to draw a bit closer towards the group. Though he remained actively trying to avoid detection, he was getting over it.
Mark moves cautiously along the track, walking to one side of it rather than ruining the trail with his own footprints. Once, he glances back at the group behind him in minor annoyance, but doesn't say anything. Just as he is straightening, an arrow *thup*s into the soil a foot from his left boot.
"Why are you following me?" A voice comes from the trees ahead, though there is no one visibly there.
Ash continues to stride along with the rest of the group. He has only a basic knowledge of stealth and is far from graceful but his extremely tree-like nature helps the woodblood move through the forest without significant disruption.
"I have no idea!" is the immediate answer from Iris, because she's super helpful that way. "I just wanted to go on an adventure." The rainbow dragon peers around, looking for things out there that might be sources of danger. Like whereever the arrrow came from.
The mermaid is silent, seeking the source of the voice. Her mrbl continues shredding that mismatching Lily until there's nothing of it left, and throws it on the ground like it's in a Lonely Island video and its dad isn't a phone.
C.B., already on the alert now, levels his gun at the arrow with shaky hands. "Who's there?!" he yells out, though nowhere near at the top of his volume (which is considerable). Some of the lightning around him spurts and sparks. "Jesus, Acid Trip, shut the hell up!" That's to Iris. Congrats, he just gave you a nickname.
When the arrow appears, Cassian becomes interested. Moving slowly, he creeps along and pulls the bow from his own back. Shadowy-orbs examine the area as he tries to sense what was out there. Dinner, perhaps?
Ashe's bat ears swivel about when she hears the voice from below. Well, that wasn't good. And they weren't even following anyoone. But what she does spot makes her curious and the bat continues to fly, circling for the moment. Watching what something is doing. Then those large wings push the air and she starts to circle down back towards the group, "Three armed in the trees ahead, but don't look hostile. Very wary though. Something has them spooked." she tells them.
SomeTHING? No, try SomeONE. Or someoneS, really. Unless Iris can do creepy shadows, someone else in that group is crazy powerful (cough Cassian cough) and they can't -see- them.
Iris' answer is, itself, answered by brief silence, then a different voice demanding, "Yeah? What do YOU call tracking someone's backtrail, lady? I'd call that following."
The ephemeral mermaid pokes her head out of the shadows where she's been hiding in the middle of the crowd, her eyes going anime-large. No one has ever been less threatening in the history of non-threats than a tiny mermaid standing on her tip-toes, carrying an adorable silvery-blue otter who's still throwing little bits of shredded water lily (that don't match Etsy's hair) onto the ground in fits of mustelid pique. "Oh! I can do an explains!"
"Is all -- mostly all -- members of a Freehold local," the mermaid offers, ever-so-gently, tilting her delicate face to one side and then the other, calling into the Hedge. Her webbed hands flip as though she's treading water that no one else can see. "Those not being a members is doing a helps. So, all come together, to investigate a things we do not knows, near to homes of ours. I am a mermaid of Fate's Harvest, name of Esther Swift, and so glad to have a meets! Can maybe all come out to have a talks? Do so VERY much like to have a talks with friends that are new. So VERY impressed with disappearing skills, even better than mine," she purrs, that siren's song playing off the trees as she rocks back and forth. "But is best to be better friends by seeings. Can see me! Even if is see-throughs, can still sees. No harm means, us, to you, if no harm means, you, to us. Yes? So come, and have a talks with friend new, who is Etsy, that is Esther Swift, a mermaid, thank you!"
Cassian considers the groupings for a moment, thoughtfully. Something was off. A foot slides forward, as he settles into a gentle, stooped stance. Dark grasses sway at Cassian's feet. An arrow is knocked, but the drawstring remains in place. "In point of fact, I'm not following you. I'm following -them-," says the voice of Cassian. Some of them would recognize it. Others wouldn't. "They're very loud, aren't they?" says the Darkling towards the hidden figures.
"What she said!" Iris calls after Etsy's words, ignoring CB's suggestion to stay quiet. "Also, I didn't say we weren't following you, just that I wasn't sure why we were. We totally were, I just wasn't paying that much attention to the reasons why. I'm just the meatshield in case someone decides to attack my friends." She pauses for just a moment before she adds, "it would be way more awsome if no attacking happened and I just made new friends to protect, though." She then turns to flash a grin at Cassian and admits, "I am very loud. Obviously I'm not trying too hard to sneak up on anyone, right? I'm wearing a tie-dye kevlar vest for goodness sake!"
C.B. sighs, putting his fingers to his forehead and squeezing there, like he has a headache, as he shakes his head. "She barely speaks /English/; how the fuck are they supposed to understand her?" he mutters to himself, but he doesn't immediately go to add something to what Etsy he has to say. After this brief attending of his pounding head, he goes back to pointing a gun straight ahead because, um. Etsy's sweet words aside, these guys just fucking shot at them! Then he's /glaring/ at Iris, a completely incredulous look on his face.
Another voice in the shadows, somewhere out in thorns, perhaps a little further to the left of the original speaker, and maybe a touch further away as well. "What? Say that again? It sounds like someone got dropped on their fucking head." And then Iris speaks up and there's a grunt from the darkness. "Yer still follwin' us!"
"You are walking through their home," Ash says, finally speaking up. "If someone were to do that to you would you not be following them and trying to find out what they are up to?" he asks.
"We aren't following anyone unless these bootprints belong to you and I'm guessing they don't. So calm down." Ashe states. "And who are those guys in the trees that look concerned?" the Black Apple asks. "We've no business or quarrel with you. So I'd appreciate it if you'd quit putting arrows at the feet of our Harvestman." the Bat puffs up. "I apologize if we crossed over your dwelling. But can assure we mean you no harm. There was a large group that we are looking for. You are not them." she states clearly.
The mermaid looks vaguely confused: she knows she's extremely convincing, despite how she talks. Etsy shrugs a little bit, fades back into the group.
"Hey! Why don't you assholes just come out and talk to us, face to face?" C.B. finally bellows, figuring, hey, if Etsy really is persuasive, despite the way she talks, then maybe those people will be calm enough to come out and chat them up without shooting more arrows. "/We're/ not the ones shooting at /you/, huh? Come out where we can see you!" He'll probably regret this!
Mark seems very impressed with Etsy's attempts to persuade the strangers, once he stops looking at the distraction of the lily shredding otter.
The first voice mutters, "They might be telling the truth," seeming halfway convinced. The second voice, less convinced, stares at the Darkling who just appeared out of -flipping nowhere-, then pointedly drops down to the Hedge below. Plainly more fae than not, he seems a creature of shadows, thorns and narrow leaves, skin rough and bark-like, eyes narrow and dark. "We didn't shoot him. We could have. He gave us ample time."
Mark scowls at this.
Alonso is rather nonplussed at this point. Rather than chat with those they've come upon, Alonso's attention is directed at Mark. The Harvestman. "What were our orders. Precisely." There's probably an implication to the question, given the Spaniard's newfound dry tone of voice.
Ashe doesn't argue over the semantics of the sentence. She nods her batty head as she flaps her wings, "We aren't following you. If there is someone behind us then they are doing a damn good job of hiding." she adds. "May we pass without issue?" the Black Apple asks.
The mermaid stays in the midst of the group, folding her see-through hands in front of her, her face still as calm water. Etsy's Mantle splays out around her, as she waits, in silence, for bodies to heal, or something of the like.
Mark tells Alonso, "I quote, 'Find out what it is.'" The man looks down at the stranger's booted feet, then up at the stranger, then up at the tree the stranger hopped out of, narrowing his eyes, but seems dissatisfied by what he sees. The fact that the third voice is moving prompts a loosening of his gun in its holster, but he doesn't draw it. Yet.
The first voice, still in its tree, calls down, "What's Fate's Harvest, anyway? Haven't heard of that before." His tone is the least hostile, still the most convinced by the collective diplomacy of the strangers below.
"It's our Freehold. It was founded in 2016. So probably a bit new for some." Ashe states the men in the trees. She didn't sound short. Just diplomatic. When one of them starts to move there's a squeak to Uvall to keep an eye on them. And yes, she's still talking as a bat. "So who are you then?" she asks them.
C.B. has his gun trained on the dude who's just jumped down, but he then points it more towards the ground. He doesn't answer the Fate's Harvest question because -- he's not a member! Screw those guys. "Alright, what's your deal?" he asks the one in their midst, raising his chin and giving him his best squinty-eyed stare. "State your name and purpose and maybe we won't make fun of your dress sense." This coming from the guy in nearly-full camo.
Alonso seems to have relaxed somewhat, since everyone is more invested in conversation than stabbing one another. Given one of the strangers has come to ground and seems keen to chat, Alonso slings his bow back over his shoulder and begins pacing forward. Along the way, he plucks the arrow out of the ground which had landed at Mark's feet. He spends a moment inspecting it as he walks forward, then offers it out to the other darkling, fletching first. "Your lot dropped this. If you intend no harm to us, and we none to you, we can be friends and comrades. I am called Alonso." A hand is offered out, too, for the purposes of shaking. "If either of us intended bloodshed, some of us would be bleeding. It seems to me we are only delaying the inevitable sharing of drinks."
Iris is currently blessedly quiet, watching their potential friends or foes with unblinking lizard eyes. At least her bow is being held low, no arrow drawn and nothing pointed at anyone. When Alonso steps forward and says what he does she grins, which shows dangerous teeth but doesn't seem to be meant as a threat display. "I could get on board for the drink sharing."
"On this day, mrbl friend, will have a best speakings of English normals, and will do this speakings. If I don't, oh well, because is only for a day," Etsy offers over her shoulder, and the otter grunts, "Okay, fine. I'm still mad at you." Etsy sighs, "I know, mrbl. But can we talk about it later?"
"As I said before -- and no, no one dropped me on my head, that's just the way that I normally talk, friend -- Fate's Harvest is our freehold. We came to find what made the disturbance in the Hedge." Etsy's language shifts profoundly, and as simply as that, when the pledge with her hedgebeast snaps into place with a tangle pop of the Wyrd. "As my friend the Spaniard says, we are simply putting off the inevitable sharing of drinks and conversations. Shall we skip the posturing and get to the part where there's drinking, and food? I do so very much like food, especially meat." Ah, so, that's not a pod person, and definitely still Etsy: tiny, delicate, sweet, siren.
"Well, I don't want to be anyone's friend," C.B. says, probably just to be contrary, as he eyes up the strangers. "As much as I like drinking, we don't exactly have a reason to do that with you. For that matter, I don't really have a reason to do that with -- anybody here." This is said as he looks around at the others. "So, fun and games aside, who are you people, why are you out here, and if /you/ didn't shoot that arrow, did you see who did? My name's Charlie, by the way." Which it most certainly...is not!
The darkling on the ground, more suspicious than his companion still in the trees and LESS suspicious than the stalking third circling the group, considers Alonso on his approach, then holds out his left hand to accept the arrow, nodding, and looks briefly down at the offered hand before accepting it as well, if briefly. "Zion." His response is short, still somewhat suspicious.
The first voice, the most open of the three, gains a more visible source as well, as an even less human Changeling drops down to earth, a bow in hand, strongly reminiscent of moss-dripping trees. "Arkham. I shot the arrow, and I left the footprints. Forgot my Smoke."
And the third, stepping out on the path that is not a path a little ways away, tall and thin, and wearing dark greens and greys, the clothes modern... mostly, save for the hooded cloak worn to one side, a longbow in his hands, and a pair of antlers riding high on his forehead, growing out at the line of his honey brown hair. his eyes are large and black, doe-like, and one of his antlers is mostly missing, shorn off at an angle that matches a scar across his temple, and the fact that he's missing most of that ear. "Ankh." Also giving his name.
"Well, a pleasure to meet you all," Iris says, then with a grind she amends, "a rather tense pleasure so far, but none the less. I enjoy a little tension now and then. I'm Iris." She lifts a taloned hand and waves to the trio.
Cassian didn't like being flanked. His chin dips a moment, as he reaches out to try and sense where they each were. Mentally, he makes a note of his compatriots--Where each of them stood. "Hail to thee, Arkham. You've ruined my hunt. But I suppose their quarry was over anyhow, if the tracks were yours. I am Cassian," he offers.
When everyone decides that introductions are in order, Ashe assumes her natural form. The Shadowsoul waits until the three men have stated their names and gives a nod, "It's good to meet you all. I'm Ashe." she tells them. "Have you gents seen anything strang..." and then her head whips around when she hears an unknown voice at the back of the group and she stares at Cassian. That was strange indeed.
"Zion. Arkham. Ankh. Arkham, thank you for not trying to kill our young Harvestman. He's a good fellow." Alonso then gives a glance backwards to C.B., making a face that is a rather a bit frustrated. His head shakes a bit before his attention returns to Zion, "Ignore that one." There's a beat before the spaniard folds up his arms and rests back on his heels a bit. "Are you a motley? Part of another freehold nearby? On the hunt for something? We've been dealing with a marauding hob army of late. They sometimes range near the market, so I'd keep my eyes up. They've created some truly nasty briarwolf-like creatures. Distressing."
"As I said previously, I'm Esther Swift, but most everyone who knows me, and especially my friends, call me Etsy. You may therefore call me Etsy. I am a mermaid of Spring," as if the Spring part wasn't totally obvious, and she glances aside at CB.
"Really profoundly not helpful," the mermaid offers, rather mildy comparatively, and rolls her shoulders.
C.B. jumps a little as Cassian speaks, too, but then Alonso's throwing him under the bus! "No, don't ignore me," C.B. exclaims, storming right up to Zion. "I have a right to give my opinion, too." But for now, he just stands there and glares at him, arms folded, still holding the pistol. Feeling Etsy's eyes on him, he sideglances back with a paranoid sort of look. "You would think that no matter what I said," he says under his breath, teeth gritted.
Mark, upon seeing that no one seems to be spurting blood from sudden leaks, offers, "Mark," as his name. He frowns at Alonso's back, but doesn't correct him. Technically, he IS both young and a Harvestman.
Arkham, the mossy tree-man, glances at CB, then at Alonso, head tilted. "We're part of a Freehold nearby." Toward Alonso more directly, he asks, "Do you have whiskey?"
Almost speaking over Arkham's last comment, Zion demands, "Arkham! How do we even know they aren't--" and then there is a C B getting in his face. The young man scowls, transferring that scowl from CB to Etsy and back again, the interaction and antipathy noted. "Look, we don't want to hurt anybody. We're just passing through the area. There hasn't been another Freehold here in..."
Arkham helpfully provides, "Sixty years."
Ashe's eyes lock on the men when they talk about a Freehold not being here in sixty years, "The one prior was the Silver Tree." she tells them. "I'm guessing you were not previous members...unless you are long of days." she looks to them. She was curious either way really.
"It's entirely possible," Iris points out with an unconcerned shrug, like it makes total sense to her. "I first bailed on Arcadia in the sixties, although I wasn't in this area until just recently. I have no idea what was around here." Her transparent nictitating membrances slide over her eyes and back as she regards the strangers. "I'd be curious to know more about the old Freehold, though."
C.B. sighs. Deeply. He steps past Zion, scowling back, and takes out his battered old flask, shakes it -- okay, it's not empty -- and hands it out to Arkham. Will he take it? Well, it's there. A curious look is given to Ashe as she stares details about the Silver Tree. "Well...Freeholds are overrated, anyway," he /has/ to add, because he's got a big mouth and it's what he does. Though on edge, he seems slightly less jumpy and incendiary than before. Slightly. Also, he gives Iris a look over his shoulder at something she says, though he doesn't elaborate. Back to the strangers in their midst.
"Hail to thee...?" The Antlered and incredulous Mr. Ankh repeats, glancing over to his friends a moment and then back to the Lost of Fates Harvest, and others, shaking his head just a little bit. "At least sixty..." Ankh adds, less then helpfully.
He moves to join his friends, and looks a little more interested when someone mentions the possibility of whiskey. "I'll even take gin, anything's better than Deep's 'wine'."
"Generally speaking, when someone is antagonistic, and working to undo all of the diplomatic efforts of an entire other group of people, I think what they're doing is really profoundly unhelpful regardless of what my personal feelings on that particular individual is," the mermaid trills easily, still swaying back and forth on her fins, stuffed into those slippers as they are. Her hands absently work the air. "Honestly, please don't pay any attention to C.B., that's the one up in Zion's face. He might feel guilty about it later, but he hasn't apologized to me yet, so don't hold your breath."
"Yes, we rather have heard that there wasn't a Freehold here for a long time. Ours is new, as Ashe said," and Etsy sways still, "But we have a Wyrd-granted Crown, and have had for several Seasons." She clears her throat. "I can bring drinks, if no one thought to." This comes with a glance to Harvestman Mark, as if asking for clearance to do so. "I mostly have mead, I'm very sorry. I don't drink or eat anything made from plants."
"Spaniard," Alonso informs Arkham regretfully, "not one for whisky, I am afraid. I do have a wineskin, if you're not too particular. Beggars can't be choosers." Alonso peels said skin off of his buffcoat and uncaps it, taking a squirt himself before offering it over with a nod. Indicating it is either not poisoned, or poisoned by a man clever enough to take the antidote first. When C.B. comes to get in Zion's face, Alonso turns on C.B. and inserts himself between the two men. The wineskin, if accepted, is handed off. If not, it is dropped, in favor of Alonso resting a hand on the hilt of his sabre. "That is enough, C.B. If you cannot be civil, I see no further purpose for your presence. You will be disappointed at how it goes for you if you continue down this road. Do you understand me?" Calm and collected as he seems determined to always be, the darkling stands his ground just the same.
"They were all killed. At least the ones that didn't manage to sneak away or not be found that is." Ashe states as she looks to Iris. Then back to the men, "The information about the former Freehold we had to dig for. And we didn't know about it until months after ours was founded. What do you know of the Silver Tree?" she asks them.
"Interesting. By who, I wonder? Someone who deserves a thorough stabbing, I would imagine," Iris says about the previous freehold, ignoring whatever looks CB gives her for whatever reasons, since she doesn't know what they are. "I don't imagine I need to know much about them to figure they're not friends, if they killed off a Freehold."
C.B. starts to turn red as the others throw him under the bus. He's still holding out his flask -- of bourbon, so yes, it's whiskey -- to Arkham. Of course, then Alonso is in his face -- and C.B. takes a step back, nearly dropping his flask in the process. Intimidated? Yes, he does seem to be, a bit. The lightning around him crackles. He narrows his eyes and stares right into Alonso's, but he says nothing. For a change! Just stands there, still holding the flask, and waits to see what happens. The flush on his pale cheeks remains.
Cassian eyes Ankh a moment. Hard. "My apologies if my manner of speech is somehow bitter to your ears, friend, I was being courteous. You're being less so," he declares. Cassian was a quiet thing by nature, but he was not a meek thing. He was also a cold, calculating and capricious thing--It was the Wyrd, really, and there was so much of fae here that practicality seemed to fade a bit within his mind. Cassian turns from them a moment and steps away. He approaches what otherwise seems to be the periphery of the Hedge itself. As he grows closer, the blackened bark of the trees begin to shape at the raising of Cassian's hand. Branches twist together, meeting and curving together in a display of whimsical obedience. When the movements cease, a smallish throne of nature has been formed, which Cassian dips into gently to sit. "Near is a strange word. Freehold of the Soundless? That would be Near to us--Out there--But here is different. Here, we're as close to anywhere as my Mermaid friend there is as close to being an Ogre," Cassian says, waving a wrist in Etsy's direction.
Arkham gives Ankh a wounded look. "Waterdeep tries too hard, but it could be worse. He just needs to let it settle more. I read a book on it last time we stopped." He does start to reach for CB's flask, but the Spaniard makes him hesitate. Never get between a guy with a saber and his target.
Zion, still wary, seems willing to at least try a -teensy- bit of Alonso's wine. Seeing as Alonso's busy, he keeps the skin, then remarks sidelong to Ankh, "Don't listen to Ark. THIS is wine. 'deep's shit is horrible."
When CB isn't stabbed immediately, Arkham accepts the flask with a nod of gratitude and a small, appreciative sip. See? Peaceful. He even tells Ashe, "They were good people. Mayor Jack's father was a friend." Right. A friend. And yet, not a one of these three looks a day over twenty-five, and most could barely pass for twenty-one.
Ashe's stitched smile curls down into a frown, the fresh rivlets of blood going as she does. "Wait...Mayor Jack's father was a member of the Silver Tree?" she asks them. Something wasn't adding up in her brain. Ages seemed off. "You guys look really young for that timeline. I mean no offense. But you don't look over mid twenties to be honest." she states.
Mark belatedly agrees to Etsy's alcoholic proposal!
His flask taken, and the three strangers seem relatively peaceful, C.B. finally puts the safety on his gun and holsters it again. But he's twitchy and uneasy now -- moreso than before -- and he stands there stiffly, arms folded, shoulders high. The sight of Cassian creating a little seat out of the Hedge, and his words, gets a dark, skeptical look from the Wizened. Perhaps he is uneasy around such an obvious display of power? He opens his mouth, about to say something, when Ashe bets him to it. So. Enjoy a little more of silent C.B. Seems he'll be like this...for at least a little while.
Reaching for the mirror at her waist -- an old-fashioned metal hand mirror, hanging from a loop on her belt, which gleams despite its apparent age, as if at some time before someone Artificed it into shininess -- Etsy looks into it, and... frowns. And then her hand slides through the metal reflective surface, coming out with wine bottle sized bottles of mead, one after the other.
Of course she has a mirror rigged in a fridge where the light stays on and she keeps her special favorite booze. What kind of Fairest do you take her for?
Ahnk gives Cassian a look, raising an eyebrow at him. "Bitter? No, just wondering why so many folk try and talk like they are in an amateur production of Shakespeare in the park." and he flashes the man a smile before moving over towards Arkham and makes to steal C.B.'s flask from him, taking a long pull before handing it back.
As other people are talking however, the faintly cross Deer-Man looks more and more interested. "Place sounds interesting..." a glance to his friends, and then the group of other lost, and then back to his friends "You know, my brother and I were planning on heading Earth-Wards anyway, we'd love to check it out." glancing to Mark, as he seems to be the one in charge, or at least the one some people are deferring to. "You guys mind some out of town guests? Share some beers, stories on the road. We gotta head back to our friends tonight, but soon yeah?"
"I sure don't mind, but I'm an out-of-town stranger of sorts myself. I just moved to the area a few weeks ago." Iris grins at the deer-man. "For the most part anyone who's not causing trouble seems to be accepted, and some people who cause trouble are too. For certain definitions of trouble." She shrugs her shoulders. "I wouldn't mind getting a drink and swapping stories."
Ashe's Mantle starts to rise when none of them answer her question. The Autumn takes a deep breath though and stamps the urge to shoot someone in the knee down. As they talk about getting back to their friends the Shadowsoul looks curious, "There are more of you out here?" she asks them.
Look, this is how people make friends with Etsy, so this is how she makes friends, too: "Here," she offers, handing winebottle-sized bottles of really good mead over to each of the three of them. "Come on and let's drink, absolutely. Out of town guests are welcome, stories are wonderful -- they're my favorite. My will-be-motleymate Regina is a Knight of the Knowledge of the Tongue, she's an amazing cook, the absolute best cook I've ever known, better than anyone, and she's got some really incredible leftovers in this fridge. If you'd like some food, too, here... " And her hand dips back through, coming up with a wrapped plate of sashimi, "This is from lunch, and there's chicken, and... oh hi Regina!" she waves the fingers holding the plate down at the mirror, adding, "She opened the fridge. She can't see me, but it's the thought that counts." Passing off the sashimi to whoever will take it, she comes back with a note in her hand that reads 'Bon Appetit!' and laughs aloud. Some people talk about laughing musically, but the mermaid laughs in arpeggios. "Well! I imagine she'll be putting fresh food in the fridge in a moment here, because she does love to feed people, and as I said, she's very best chef I've ever known. Shall we?" Her eyes have no pupil, no iris, just sea-change sclera, but she tilts her head from one to the other of each of the three. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Ashe, I didn't hear your question, I didn't mean to talk over you. I was kind of occupied getting food!" Her smile is close-lipped; the mermaid shows no teeth when she smiles.
Mark seems gratified that Ankh is treating -him- like he's leading something, finally speaking up to agree, "You can meet us at the Wayhouse. It's marked. Tamarack Road, by the cliff drop down into the forest. Hospitality." The all-important word.
Arkham seems mightily interested in those bottles of booze. And tempted. He glances aside at Zion, then at Ankh, as though gauging their opinions of accepting the gifts. Ashe gets a light, "We're older than we look. Atlantis gets around a lot. He was a good man, though. Wonder what ever happened to him..."
"Atlantis is Mayor Jack's father?" Ashe asks. The Custodian Elect is trying to drag more information out. It's not going well. "How are you guys staying so young looking? Fountain of Youth out here or something?" she chuckles to that.
Cassian may have become bored, but, he wasn't without an interest in listening for information that one day may become useful. So, as the others spoke, and drank, Cassian relaxed and fiddled with one of the broadhead arrows he'd brought. Whilest sitting in his comfortable hedge-shaped chair.
Zion glances at the bottles, shrugs, and shakes his head at Ashe, giving his attention to the questions regarding the Silver Tree. "Atlantis is ours. Bert was Jack's father. He protected that town through Hell and high water, until...well. We were out in Montana at the time. Ankh and Morpork can tell you about it. They were there." Social graces not being his specialty, he nods to the group, gives ALonso back his wine, and turns on his heel to start walking off into the Hedge, a small stone drawn out of his pocket.
Ashe gives a look to the others and there's a nod to them, "Thank you for coming out this far." the Shadowsoul states. Then there's a look back to the group of gents and she nods to them, "Be safe in your travels. I hope to speak with you again." she tells them. She had more questions than answers for the moment. Uvall is touched again and Bat Ashe flies off with Uvall trailing after her.
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