The group got a lovely, relatively warm day to travel in, for once. And by relatively warm, we mean actually above freezing oh my gosh does that even ever happen in Vermont?
Apparently it does!
Granted, there are still ice pellets falling from the sky, and there are a good too many feet of snow on the ground, but life could be worse.
Gathering at the mine, our intrepid adventurers start forth on their Noble Quest! Charlie O is there to give some last minute instructions and handle the nitty gritties of the pledge between Freeholders and non-, and to caution Cerise, in particular, against straying too far from the Changelings once they are in the Hedge.
Those instructions: go to the Market to get far from the Freehold territory, then look for copies of the brand on Neirin's hand. That, as a destination, should bring them to a source of information less insanely than going, "Hey Hedge! Bring me to Tall Bright and Sandy!"
The trip through the Everdark is as dark as usual (and anyone who doesn't have Elements 2 or spin around with a torch burning worm-fibers will take 1B if they were careful or 5B if they weren't), and given the .. ah, particular makeup of this traveling troupe, that is, ZOMG POWERFUL PERSON and zomg still-powerful-but-less-Fae-like people (+ Cerise), unsurprisingly, most of the natives take note of the group, watch where they are going, and leave them well enough alone.
The trek to the Market, therefore, is less terrible than it could be, though there is still a brief combat, a swarm of small rabbity creatures with fangs and bright, iridescent blue-violet fur-feathers easily dispatched.
The Quest begins!
Uschi... Uschi is quiet - practically the entire time, all the Ogress has done is occasional grunt out non-verbal cues to C.B., and stay towards the side-lines. Who would even pick up on her, anyway? Aside from the gaudy tassels on that battered leather jacket of hers, and that gentle sense of 'unsettling presence', Uschi is not particularly notable. Just some one-armed Ogress trying to make her way along, crushing the occasional small rabbity creatures in her ruddy right hand as they head to Market.
Maybe that's why Uschi's one working hand is so red -- crushing things.
Uschi's boots swing alongside the corpses of two rabbity-creatures, as the Farwalker does her barefoot trek through the Hedge, as feral as anything. This hasn't, of course, stopped her -- like many others -- from occasionally giving directions and insight to Ashe; if grunting, gesturing, and giving vague nods with a horn count as helping. Which it does. Uschi is super helpful.
But mostly, Uschi keeps her eyes on the edges as she lumbers along; looking out with keen eyed vigilance for... Whatever it is she assumes is lurking. Danger and duress, no doubt. Occasionally, those nocturnal eyes glint in Cerise's direction, but... But that must be coincidence. Same for the way the Ogress brushes close to the Mortal, on one or two or six occasions, sniffing... The air, right? Not trying for Cerise's hair. That'd be weird.
C.B. Alexander hates the Hedge. C.B. Alexander will let anyone within earshot know this, too, whenever it's not super-dangerous for him to say so. He's wearing his usual gear, all plaid and denim and Red Sox-capped, with his messenger bag slung across his personage. His plaid jacket hides that he's bristling with guns -- well, two guns. Kind of a lot, though. There's a crowbar sticking out of that thing, too, and some kind of weird, chrome-plated megaphone clipped to the side. Trotting down by his feet is the papery cat known as Yossarian, who's decided today that it's easier to travel by foot than in C.B.'s bag.
Anyhoo, he sticks somewhere near Uschi and Cerise, keeping an eye on both of them, but also on Neirin. And Ashe. And Vorpal. Because frankly, he doesn't trust any of these fuckers. And once they get to Market, he actually groans aloud, pausing to stop and dig out his hip flask for a nice, long drink.
The Witch King of Angmar had decided to come out on this Quest. Wait, that's Ashe. But you'd never know it with the way she was dressed in that ring wraith like robe and those metal gloves and stuff. And that creepy fucking fae mount she is riding. Apollyon loves eating sippers, so when they get out of the Everdark he's got blood running down the front of him and he's giving chitters to the Black Apple. She leans forward and pats the creature, "Good job." she tells him. Then the Autumn sets off to get them on the fastest path that doesn't get them eaten by a large spider.
For once, Vorpal isn't dressed in shabby hoodies and old, ratty jeans.
Oh, no. For this trip? Vorpal is fucking FABULOUS.
The Godling is kitted out in a full suit of light-weight, wicked-looking armor, complete with full helm, right in line with Ashe's Witch King aesthetic. It's worn with use, but it's all very, very snazz. A nasty-looking butcher's knife dangles from one side of his belt, tied into place with a white ribbon, with a brace of Stabapple thorns clattering off the other side- similarly bound with ribbon- all next to a tightly-bound burlap bundle strapped to his side, sealed once more with the ubiquitous white ribbon. His shadow clings to his form and writhes with nastiness, chewing straight through leaves and branches unfortunate enough to get near. As they proceed towards the Market, Vorpal- lingering idly near Cerise, never letting her get too far out of arm's reach- speaks up. "Remember the rules. No roses. No rose colored things. No marketeering unless you've pledged with the Roses to sell there. Honor the Lady Day, may she shine forever, if you run into her or if she's brought up. No backing out of deals. No lying about what you offer -for- a deal. No fighting- peacetie your weapons if you have any- and no refunds."
A moment passes, and he adds, "And do remember not to hit me, even in jest. My friend is feeling frisky and if he swats you, it's going to be extremely unpleasant. You can bank any earned head-slaps or shoulder-punches for tomorrow. Promise."
Cerise is more than a little wide-eyed as they travel through the hedge. Most of the time, she's sticking close to the others, letting C.B. prattle away at her about how much he hates the hedge and the market and how awful it is. However, it's clear that she's not listening at all, and makes a rather bad habit of stopping frequently to examine something. And while she might hang back during the fight with the bunny-things, afterwards during the clean-up, she's crouching down by one and examining it the same way that she might any speciman, even tugging off a bit of feather and fur and depositing them in her pack before they continue on. Mostly, Uschi is ignored too, although Cerise does give the ogress odd glances now and again.
When they reach the market finally, C.B. and Uschi are completely ignored as Cerise stops to take everything in with the same perceptive, analytical gaze she uses when entering any new environment, only this time more wide-eyed than usual. Vorpal's list of rules just waft over her, uncertain if they've been heard or not, and then her head tilts towards him as the mortal asks, "Wait, did you hear something?"
Neirin has not been chainsmoking the entire time. Through the Everdark, he most assuredly stayed quite close by Ashe and Apollyon, silently taking damage from a sipper that missed the creepy fae mount's attentions, then chewing on a murmurleaf to fix it-- and he stays back and lets those who like hitting things other than what's on an anvil deal with the rabbit things. He's been silent unless spoken to, left hand in his pocket and right hand carrying his fiddle case, his bulky coat and ugly jumper half-tangled with his own battered messenger bag, and his gleaming polished wingtip shoes, the color of dried blood, distinctly at odds with literally everything else about him. Honestly he looks kind of like he must have mugged someone for them.
He grimaces at Cerise's lack of listening to the rules, and is about to say something when she asks if Vorpal's heard something-- and he shuts his mouth and listens, then squints into the darkness. He shrugs. "Guards. I see two."
Ashe didn't stop at the Market for longer than they had to. So she's not sure why others didn't follow when they needed to continue. So the Autumn Councilor stops Apollyon and waits patiently for the others to catch up. Too bad Angry Birds doesn't work in The Hedge.
As Uschi and the others draw closer to the Wyrd shadow of the Market, her focus is more on moving /away/ then heading in -- she takes some steps after Ashe, although she pauses to grunt in C.B's direction. Disapprovingly? Yes. Anyone who speaks Feral Ogress may note the ping of judgement re: that flask of booze. Or... Is it the way Vorpal and Cerise are talking? Is the low-verbal Farwalker trying to communicate something else to the Author?
Sheesh. Uschi needs elocution lessons.
"Gnuh." The Ogress bops a horn in Neirin's direction, after he's mentioned the guards. "S'been spotted, then. Like we could fuckin' 'void it." Grumble, grumble. Moon Mantle shadows hide that expression, but the disapproval tone remains as she... Possibly looks in Vorpal or Cerise's direction. Instead she falls back along near-ish to C.B., and she falls silent -- attention turned to watch the Trod around them. Vigilant and impassive.
Ashe sits forward in the saddle and there's a cocking of her head as she tries to focus her hearing over the sound of the group that she's with. Then she spurs Apollyon on just a little quicker, "Vorpal, someone's ahead of us. Struggling and conversation." she hisses towards her fellow shadowsoul.
Vorpal glances up towards Ashe- presumably, at least his HEAD tilts up towards her- then back down. "Hm. Should I take a look, do you think? Want to try to navigate past? Or should we send a sneak forward to take a look before we make a decision?" His fingers pat idly against the handle of his Hedgespun knife, studying the path ahead. "I can vanish, if we want to do both."
The wind sighs through the branches of attenuated trees overhead, thorny brambles unnaturally shadowed, thanks to a certain someone. A gentle storm begins to pitter-patter on what few leaves are still on the trees descended near enough from mortal seeds to care about the seasons, rainwater dripping down in chilly rivulets within a few minutes' time.
Uschi... Is very difficult to see. Really, who should see her - or even give a shit? From back there in the, uh, back of the group, Uschi turns and murmurs something and-- really, really who cares what the Ogress is doing? Any overly invested folk may see her sniff in, and lift her head as the rain starts to fall -- eyeing the sky for a second, before her murmuring to the Electro Wizened continues.
Cerise pulls her hat lower down on her head as the rain begins to fall. She twists around to check out what C.B. and Uschi are doing, only to find them mumbling to each other, which brings a frown to the mortal's lips. Twisting around again, she pushes up towards Ashe and Vorpal. "We should go look first. Never a good idea to go running in half-cocked." Not that anyone asked her ...
It's raining. Robin James Collier is accustomed to smoking in the rain. That doesn't mean he particularly wants to keep his goddamned magnet hand out in plain view to do it, so he lets the rain put it out and then pockets the spent filter, which, wow, is really going to make his coat smell ba-- wait, his coat already smells of stale cigarettes and booze. "We?" he asks Cerise bluntly. "No, you stay the fuck back like I'm doing. Might be a fight. You're not here to fight."
C.B.'s been keeping to himself for awhile, especially since Cerise made a point of ignoring him. Probably mutters something about letting her 'patron' take care of her, and ignores in turn. He squints over at Uschi as she mutters while he finishes his cigarette, flicking it away (yes, he litters in the Hedge), and shrugs at the Ogress. "This was a stupid idea." Doesn't stop him from withdrawing a strange, patina'd, antique-looking Hedgespun pistol from the holster under his jacket. When Neirin comments to Cerise, C.B. just watches her, frowning, but he doesn't offer up any of his own opinions.
The rain continues, pitter-pattering down onto the trod below. A strange, high, almost mournful call echoes eerily through the leaden clouds above, though nothing seems to come of it. There are no signs of the voices coming any closer, either.
"Maybe so." Uschi grunts in C.B's direction, and then... She looks towards Vorpal and Ashe with those nocturnal eyes of hers. Small snort of possible attention seeking, then she grumbles in their direction; "They got sum'on' gagged." How could she possibly know that?! The Ogress just -knows-, sounding so confident and... So blasé. Someone' gagged. Is it her problem? Possibly yes, possibly no. she just... Stares - forward up the trod, then down the trod, then up at the sky... Vigilant, always. Action? Not yet. No need to be hasty.
"Right. Right. Not here to fight, but we should send /someone/ to go check it out." Neirin's rebuke doesn't seem to cow the mortal at all. Cerise's response seems agreeable enough, given with a hint of a smile and hands lifted in surrender, even if she doesn't back down from her point. When Uschi speaks, her head swivels in that direction, seeming agog at the ogress's confidence "Someone's gagged?" She asks before looking at C.B. for confirmation, because of course C.B. is the one who confirms things.
Who was here the whole time? Well, if a person is familiar with what Ashe's player dubbed the HELL MANTLE, there is a clue as to who has been here the whole time. But, well, they ain't visible. "I can go look," comes Teagan's voice out of nowhere, as heat and crackling static and voices whispering medic medic surround them. Well. There's that. Their voice is near to Vorpal.
The rain begins to come down harder, and, audible to everyone this time, there is a loud *crack!* from up ahead, followed by a wind-snatched cry. Cerise can clearly hear that the crack was the sound of some form of whip, or whip-like implement, and the cry is too high pitched to be the average man's.
Cerise's head whips in the direction of the crack, and her eyes are wide again, but not at the wonders of the hedge, but rather with righteous outrage. "They're beating someone up there! A woman! Are we going to do something or /what/? Because I'm not just going to /let/ that happen!"
"Aahhhhh...fuck," is what C.B. actually ends up saying, nodding in Cerise's direction rather vaguely. Does it even matter anymore? "This was a bad idea!" he cries out, to no one in particular, though he does end up looking at Cerise again. "Jesus, just shut /up/ for a minute, Cerise, so we can figure out what the hell is going on!" But he doesn't actually do anything, although his eyes pop open for a moment, startled, as Teagan appears. Wasn't expecting that. probably isn't pleased about it. But if someone's going to go look...may as well be then.
Vorpal gestures back towards Neirin with a nod in that direction, a presumed pointed glance aimed at Cerise. "Precisely so. Stay with him. We'll take a look and Do Something once we have a gauge on the situation." At CB's snark about the intelligence of this plan, he peers back and chuckles. "Less so than trusting the word of a Fae, friend." Uschi offers added insight, and he nods her way in thanks for the information, considering the path ahead as the rain pats down around them, tapping his foot as he thinks- at least until he hears that whipcrack. "Go look. Tell her what you see. I'm going in so this stops now, if it needs to." His tone could chill beverages, after the implication this all carries. "Neirin, keep Cerise here and leads her back the way we came if need be. Everyone else, wait to hear back and follow Ashe's lead."
That's about all the patience Vorpal has- he's moving through the rainstorm towards whatever the hell is happening.
Ashe looks over to Vorpal and there's a nod, "Go. I think I'm going to have to head something off from above." she tells him cryptically. What the hell did that mean? Who was going to ask. Then there's a look to Cerise and then back to Vorpal. That's what he's supposed to be doing. She then draws Apollyon off to the side a bit, slowly...very slowly...
Neirin's eyes close, and he turns his face up into the rain, one hand in his pocket and the other carrying that damned violin. He looks tired. "Teagan is going to go see what's happening and come back. Don't trust everything you hear or see. I told you it's fucking mad here." He opens flame-blue eyes and looks to Vorpal, then, and nods, and he switches his fiddle case to his branded hand and reaches to take Cerise's hand with his right. He says under his breath, "And please be quiet."
"Do you just do whatever these assholes tell you to do?" C.B. snaps at Cerise. Maybe because she keeps ignoring him! Though maybe he deserves it. But it's Uschi he's watching next as he levels his pistol towards...nothing in particular. Then he starts to stalk forward, moving towards the front, probably in the wake of Vorpal, though not quite on his heels.
"Fine." Cerise does lower the tone of her voice in response to Neirin, but at the same time she yanks her hand free so that she can whirl around, following C.B. with her gaze as he passes her by, "I'm clearly not, C.B., you know that."
"And away we go," comes the voice of the Gender-Neutral Regent Of Gender-Neutrality, and then the Hell Mantle's gone. Probably the invisible Teagan goes with it. Or took it away. No footprints, no visible person, and the sound of their motion is pretty much nil. They move about halfway to the sounds, or until they can see something, and then stop: perfectly still, like a Teagan-statue. Invisibly.
A few twists and turns ahead on the trod, and, oddly, a jump into a warmer season, albeit still a rainy one, is a small scrap of a Hollow just barely scraped out off to the side. A naked young woman with dusky skin and dark hair is strung up between two trees, arms and legs splayed, gagged, while two Changelings, both with darker, duskier flesh and a distinctly desert-sand shifting to their complexions, take turns whipping the woman's back. Blood has already begun to sheet down from the slice the whip just made, vividly red against the tensed-up muscles of her back, her breath heaving in agonized sobs.
The two Changelings, while physically distinct, have very similar faces. Their bodies are a bit too perfectly idealized male and female, faces likewise seeming almost sculpted into shape, though unlike their victim, they ARE wearing perfectly serviceable armour.
They also, quite notably, each have a brand identical to Neirin's on their left palm, glowing a soft, yet sunny gold in the shadows of the storm.
"Yeah, sure. Tell it to your lords and masters," C.B. says back at Cerise. "They can scrape your bones off the ground when you go charging ahead." And then they come across the Hollow, and that expression of surprise dances back onto C.B.'s face. He lowers the pistol, though he doesn't holster it, as his gaze moves from the marked Changelings to the woman bound. He freezes for a moment, shoulders hovering near his ears...and then he holsters the gun entirely, and moves boldly towards them. Wait, is this a good idea?
The sky, meanwhile, is steadily darkening, and it is all the darker beneath the trees, dusk at midday.
There is an odd sound, from where Uschi's lurked off to -- sounds like rocks crackling underfoot, and possibly it could be, only... It could also be the Ogress barking out a chuckle, after C.B. speaks to Cerise. What an ornery ol' Ogress! Because she's creeping along - oblivious to where Ashe has gotten to, neglectful of Neirin and Vorpal, and generally dismissive. Just Uschi being Uschi.
In true form to the Day Pledge, Uschi is keeping C.B.'s back covered, as the Wizened goes to try and start negotiations with the dusky twinned changelings -- but the Ogress' attention flickers off in the direction of the woman being whipped. The air is sniffed, as impassive eyes look on and rain wets her bunched hair and raggedy leathers. Darkness is falling. This bothers the Moon not an iota. She just creeps along, watchful.
Ashe was waiting for someone to go in and once CB has, she lands on Apollyon right behind him. Which happens to be positioned to block the woman from those that would whip her. Apollyon's maw opens and a fireball shoots out over CB's shoulder as the beast roars. "STAY YOUR HANDS!" the Shadowsoul bellows to those that are gathered around. From there, Apollyon's head swivels from side to side, looking at who he might eat first.
"I'm going to grab your hand if we have to run back," Neirin says, his hand falling to his side when Cerise yanks hers away. And then fuck literally everything, as everyone starts going ahead, he sticks his fiddle case under his arm and lights another cigarette, in the rain, and keeps it shielded with his cupped hand over it, pinched between thumb and forefinger. "Come on, let's at least keep them in sight. Let 'em be loud, but--" he says to her as he starts walking up the trod in the direction everyone else went, then trails off as they get into view, still back on the path part of the path but in view of the clearing, "--not lose them... fuck."
Then he sees the hands of the changelings with whips. "Fuck."
Cerise had every intention of following along anyway, and so as Neirin heads down the path she keeps pace with him. Although, like him, she hangs back and at least attempts to stay out of direct view.
"What was that about charging forward?" Vorpal drolls as CB invites himself along on the Interference Interlope Express. Still, he doesn't stop him at all, though he does pause for a brief instant when he sees the woman being whipped by the Changelings. Then... CB goes charging forward, sans weapon.
Someone cue Captain Jack, because that's interesting.
He follows all the same, shifting easily from the role he'd intended to play to one of Imposing Muscle, stomping along in CB's wake as the rain pours down, thickening the air and slowing the senses. It takes about as long as it takes for one raindrop to find a way to sneak down the back of his neck before he reaches out and Flexes his Wyrd.
The effect is immediate. As Ashe rains down fire and commands the attention of the Changelings, the clouds -ripple.- It takes all of a few moments for the clouds to split and lighten, taking the rain with them.
Not that it makes the area one bit lighter, for whatever reason. Weird.
No, no. I do believe the word Vorpal was looking for was 'Wyrd'...
Storms are storms, until they aren't. The unnatural shadows of Vorpal's approach through the Hedge are just one more shadow, but the sudden appearance of not one, not two, but half a dozen people startles the duo into whirling around, their movements as graceful as sand shifting upon the dunes.
Golden eyes, faintly luminescent, narrow when the leader (for surely, that is what CB is!) approaches them so boldly, then widen at the sight of Ashe and Apollyon, fear stark on inhuman faces. The woman, currently holding the whip, shifts her stance to a more defensive posture, as the man's hand jerks down toward the curved sword at his hip.
However...
It is the golden brand on Neirin's hand which stays his own, fingers loosening, posture straightening.
Still cautious, shaken, he keeps an eye on Apollyon while lifting his branded hand, palm high. "Hail, child of the Sun, Eye of the Eternal Sand."
He seems to be waiting for something, eyes on Neirin.
C.B. startles, too -- fireballs and flickering skies? He wasn't expecting that! But he tries to keep his cool (is that what he has?) as the glorious "leader" clears his throat and gestures towards the two Changelings. "Okay, so --"
Wait. It's Neirin they're talking to. Okay. C.B. sighs and just steps aside. No, he'll do one better -- he'll take out his flask for a drink. Fuck it.
This time, it's Cerise that grabs for Neirin's hand, opting for the one with the brand on it. Perhaps the mortal wishes to hide it from view, or perhaps she wants to keep Neirin from running off. Whatever the case, she keeps a firm grip around the hand of the mortal, as she leans over and mutters to him, "Don't say /anything/. Yet."
Child of the Sun? Jesus Christ.
Neirin could not look further from a child of the sun if he were composed entirely of Ian Curtis, mayonnaise, cocaine, and basement mould. (This may arguably be the case, in fact.)
But fuck it, eyes zeroed in on that brand, he--
CERISE JUST GRABBED HIS CIGARETTE AWAY FROM HIS MOUTH. He gives her this absolutely fucking LIVID glare, and this time he yanks HIS hand away. He sticks his cigarette in the corner of his mouth and lifts his hand, then lowers it again to take the cigarette out of his mouth so he can talk, and his voice comes out in kind of a croak. "Hail. They'll talk," He cocks a thumb at literally the rest of the party, "I'll watch." Then he starts coughing, which isn't hard, but is absolutely meant to explain why he's not doing the talking.
Uschi... Remains still; a sentinel in the dusty silvery shadow of His Drunk Impulsiveness, (Dis)Honourable Lord C.B. Alexander, and the dark overwhelming presence of Ashe Whelan's wraith-wrath and Vorpal the quote-unquote "God's" shadowy presence. Who is she? Just some asymmetrical, cripple-armed, mouth-breathing Ogress of Moon. Don't worry about her. She's not even wearing /shoes/. But the golden eyes of the whip bearing changelings narrow, their their attention shifts to Neirin and his Super Cool Brand -- the Ogress... Well the Ogress just stands there. Apparently unresponsive to all, even Cerise's demands to the poor branded Wizened - they don't even get a snort of disapproval from her, no. Neirin's got that totally covered; keep a Wizened away from his nicotine? Wrath quickly follows. But for now, Uschi remains blank faced, still, observant and... Impassive. If it weren't for that raggedy breathing of hers, she'd be making nary an impression.
Doot doot doo, there are no Teagans here, doot doot doo, definitely not holding a rusty, bloody machete in their dominant left hand and standing behind the leader while invisible, doot doot doo, nothing, nobody here but us chickens with hell mantles, wreathed in invisible fire. Definitely not real fuckin' angery.
The woman lowers her whip, starting to relax, when she hears something nearby, turning to scan the space between them and their prisoner. Ashe. Terrifying beast thing. Empty space.
The man, puzzled by Neirin's reaction, nonetheless accepts it, turning to C.B. and stating a curious, "I thought we were the only hunters sent this far afield. This Eye-forsaken labyrinth is never-ending, but fate has favoured us, this day. Will you join us in the sacrifice?"
Their 'sacrifice', who also stiffened when Teagan stepped poorly, incidentally, squeals a gag-muffled protest at the prospect, eyes pleading, tears running down rain-moistened cheeks.
Mind, the rain is still pitter-pattering... it just isn't pitterypatting anywhere near THEM.
When Neirin decidedly does not stay quiet, Cerise's eyes slide over to him in disbelief, and then again her gaze is seeking out C.B. and widening at him expressively, in a 'can you believe it' sort of way, only instead of catching his eye right away, she notices him drinking. Her lips turn down in a frown and then she slowly slides her hand from Neirin's and leans over to mutter at him instead. "Okay, say yes, Distract them."
Ashe looks to the two that don't want to ask questions and then to the one with the whip, "The Children of the Sun. Who are they. Why are you going to sacrifice this woman?" she asks them.
Well. CB bailed on talking just that quick, Neirin's noped out of it, Ashe is up top being imposing- hell, he's already front and center, Vorpal just starts talking once Neirin opts to have everyone else do it. He spends one more moment, invoking his Court's specialty magicks to study what he can about what he just saw, then steps up, the clearing darkest right around him as he paces just past CB while Ashe addresses the pair. He's keeping a close eye on both, standing "idly" while he waits for any hint they plan to harm the woman or anyone else.
If anyone could see Teagan, they would know that their broken-mirror eyes are burning as only Summer can burn. Teagan's muscles are shaking with the effort of restraining themselves from doing anything; their hand tightens around Baby's wooden hilt until the scar that the rusty, blood-stained blade left on their palm stands out brilliantly silver against their back-of-the-mirror skin. They are perfectly still, as only a statue or someone trained in spycraft-warfare can be, right behind the speaking man. Oh, if only anyone could see Teagan, they'd know that the Summer is radiating shit 'bout to go fuckin' down in this jawn, son.
P.S. Dishonor on your fucking cow, asshole.
Coughing fit over with, Neirin wheezes for a second, takes one last ill-advised drag of his cigarette, then stubs it out on the ground and flicks it off the trod. He leans to whisper something to Cerise. Something that's basically, 'No. I'm letting people who know what they're doing do what they know how to do, and I'm keeping my gob shut.' Well, literally that, actually.
Uschi is taking her time - her ruddy right hand lifted, to scratch idly at the side of her head as those nocturnal eyes flicker back to watch the dusky twinnish changelings who're 100-percent team Children of the Sun. It's only after a few long moments that the Ogress starts to snort, and guffaw, and chuckle - like the sound of loose shale grinding together. Technically it's a laugh - but there is little to no cheerfulness there. Bawdy gallows humour only.
"S'ain't from 'round here, nope. Looks like the Eye's searchin' greener pastures for chattel." Uschi croaks at Ashe, sneering at the two Sun Kiddos as she speaks to the former Autumn Queen. "...They're catchin' game, bring back to the desert for the Eye. The -why- they're doin' it don't matter none. S'real question is..." Uschi's iridescent eyes flicker at the two strange Changelings. "Whot one of youse wants to live free? Or at all?"
Rage. Somewhere in the background, it's being emitted freely -- but with Uschi? The Ogress doesn't have to rage. Not now. Not yet. She just stares at the two odd Changelings, and the whip. "Where we come from, our Sun gotta word, whot Moon doesn't say often; I think the word is... Repent?"
The sand-shifting man turns his head, puzzled again, though this time at C.B. and his decision to drink instead of answer.
The woman with the whip, however, upon being addressed by Ashe, gives Neirin an unhappy look. "You have not educated your disciplines in His Light?" Straightening, a priestess speaking holy truth, she recites, "The Eye of the Eternal Sand is flame and light, heat and the air's dry breath. His Children are forever marked by the fires of his forges and His Will, bearing the symbol of--"
And it is at about this point that Uschi opens her gob.
The woman freezes, silent, then quivers in outrage, glaring at Neirin. "Faithless worm! You take the Unworthy to your bosom? You have been blessed!" Because the Eye's favour is the greatest thing ever, obviously.
She lifts her whip and lunges for Uschi.
Is Neirin not doing what Cerise said? Cerise's body shifts slightly towards him and her eyes narrow, and then she faces away again and gives an 'I don't really care' shrug as she's once again staring at the guys up front, just in time to see one of them lunge towards Uschi.
Have you ever seen someone just ... bifurcate? Those people who have seen it before saw it on the Ashen Hunt, when Teagan pulled this exact same trick on a Hunter. Now this asshole has armor, so he isn't just cut in half, but those are his brains, and those are his insides, and that is his intestine, and there's blood, so much blood, so very, very much blood. The blood is everywhere, everywhere, everywhere.
The only artistic endeavor Teagan undertakes is painting with arterial spray.
They remain invisible, at least for now, but they definitely exist now, and there's a hiss from the Summer whose Mantle crackles louder and louder, those voices calling medic, medic, and never answered.
"This machine kills kidnappers, too, cabron."
Ashe just stares at those that don't answer her and then there's a look to Uschi as she does. She can almost feel the heat from Teagan's Mantle and she knows at least that she's there. There's a nod to Uschi. Then she looks back to the two people that have the swords and the whips, "We're going to make this real simple, we're going to kill you now." the Magister of Nightmare states. With that said, she shouts something in Gaelic and Apollyon gathers another fireball in his chest before he shoots it at the man who Teagan had taken the head off of almost. As he does that, she's pulling a shotgun from her robes and points it at the woman and pulls the trigger with the precision of someone who is deathly accurate with the thing. "Neirin! Get this woman down and out of here!" she shouts to him as she keeps the shotgun steady on the whip wielding lady.
WHAT HO, someone said the magic word! Vorpal has been waiting for this instant since they walked up to find a woman strung up to be whipped for glamour. When the woman makes a break for Uschi, his movement is fast, but not quite enough to strike before Teagan and Apollyon makes quick work of the male, and Ashe puts a load of buckshot into the woman. Vorpal's eyes rake over the wounds, make a quick assessment, and he moves like black lightning, slamming into place immediately before the woman with fist already cocked back. "If that brand is a blessing-"
Holy shitfire, but that looked like it hurt. Vorpal punches the woman with a STAGGERING amount of force- even before it's clear she's unconscious, her body is already airborn and collapsing. His followthrough is exaggerated, slowed down- that wasn't full force, that punch was pulled. And it's still done its job, rendering the woman unconscious and insensate.
"HOLD YOUR FIRE! We need to know more about the Eternal Sand, and SHE has information we can use! STAND DOWN, I'm taking her captive!"
And under his breath? "Why am -I- the voice of reason?!"
"Oh. Right. Agent of Awakening. It's literally my job." Cough.
"Oh, FUCK! I had a one liner all lined up. If that brand is a blessing, guess THAT was Divine Interve-FUCK! I TOTALLY BOTCHED THE TIMING! AAAAUGH!"
Ashe swings the shotgun around and the trigger is almost pulled. It's so close. But Vorpal is there and the Black Apple swings the gun up and away from him. "The other body will burn. Hopefully we'll clean up before any of their friends get back." she states. Then there's a look back around to see if there's anyone lingering that they didn't notice. Then there's a look to Vorpal and a laugh, "I'm sure you'll remember the one liner on the way back, Vorpal." she tells him. Then the shotgun is slid back into the hidden holster on Apollyon's saddle and she sighs, "Anyone hurt or need fruits? We'll definitely need to get attention to their captive." she states.
Neirin says, "Fuck off, it were an accident," Neirin says carelessly to those who are about to die. Then he glances at Cerise and leans over a little. "You know that knife I gave you--?" He pauses and looks up as Ashe calls out to him and yells, "On it!" then looks back at Cerise. "Bet it's pretty fuckin' good for cutting ropes." He wrestles out of his coat from under his messenger bag and starts moving. "Come on. She can have my coat. Hopefully someone's got the ability to heal her up with hedgefruit."
He heads across the hollow at a jog, then sets the fiddle case and coat down and starts untying the woman, murmuring to her, "Sorry you've had the most shit day in the history of fucking ever. If you want to forget this ever happened once my mates've healed you up and we get you home, let me know, yeah?"
Unperturbed. That's what Uschi seems like, /feels/ like, even as the Sun Cultist with a Whip lunges at her. Was the Ogress expecting a fight? Changes are she always is -- but there's just this... Confidence about her, like Uschi was sure whatever happens, will happen. Is it Faith? Foresight? Pure unadulterated stupidity? So hard to tell - because there is all this action, compressed into such a blink of an eye. There is flame and buckshot, pulled punches and a spray of arterial blood which replaces the banished rain. It splatters the Ogress' face and body, mingling with the damp of before.
But Uschi just stands there, breathing deep, bathed in blood and offal, laughing.
It's a quiet noise, like the shuffling of her bare feet as she glances from the unconscious whip-bearer, to the bleeding or quite possibly bled out companion. Mortal strung up? Ignored. Uschi's already got what she wanted from her. But the bifurcated fellow... Uschi pads over with soft footsteps - and promptly starts looting his still-warm body.
Perfectly acceptable day for Uschi.
Not shit in the slightest.
Next to Ashe, there's Teagan, suddenly, looming angrily over the crispy-bloody body. They're still wreathed in elemental fire.
This whole "appearing out of nowhere wreatched in fire" thing really doesn't help the 'Teagan may secretly be a fucking demon' thing, does it?
Anyway. Teagan looms over the dead body, their broken-mirror eyes glittering with wrath unbridled. That wasn't enough killing for the Summer. (It's probably more of Teagan than the poor woman wants to see, if she's able to.) They hiss wordless rage, all full of the want to kill more things, and then spit on the bifurcated, bloody body of the man in front of them. Blood drips from Baby's blade, and slides up Baby's blade, as if the token is drinking it in... and at the same time... the black-metal color drains out of Teagan's left hand, where they hold the machete, and brilliant silver blotches appear on their face, on their hand, and they wince suddenly. When Uschi comes over and starts looting? The Mirrorskin grunts around the sudden pain. "EY. Don't be loot-swipin'. That's my kill."
Cerise slides a small knife out from the back of her belt and hands it over to Neirin before he goes jogging off. Cerise follows close behind, but she lets Neirin do the work of getting the woman down and to the ground before she takes over, wrapping an arm comfortingly around the other mortal woman and calming fears as she starts to go in to medical mode.
Ashe heads over towards Neirin and there's a blanket handed over to him, "For the woman, she doesn't need to walk naked through the hedge." she tells him. Then she's preparing to lead them back safely through the hedge again. Or well...hopefully she will lead them safely through the hedge. She got them here!
"I didn't forget it!" protests the spitting image of a Dark Knight from within his armor. "If the BRAND is a BLESSING, then THAT was Divine Intervention! God joke, AND makes fun of the damn blessing idea, AND it was badass, AND I FUCKED UP THE TIMING! AW, MAN, that's frustrating," he mutters as he moves over to take a look at the woman and her wounds, blinking at Ashe. "Wait. What?" He stops and reviews the people they have with them. "... did we march all the way out here without a single person that can heal mortals? Jesus fucking wept. Shit. Never really thought about that." He bends and glances at Cerise. "I'm with the Greenies- the medics, weird as that sounds. I think I can patch her up enough to get her realside- you think you can lend me a hand with that?"
Is someone speaking to her? Because Uschi is not responding - crackling heat or not, the Ogress' uncanny confidence in her work does not falter even for a single second - her focus is entirely on the body, who she is searching rapidly with that one ruddy right hand of hers, the dead rabbit-creatures swinging as she crouches over the Sun Luver. Fools. Don't they know the sun always goes down? More chuckling - a low, raspy sound - and the feral Ogress grabs something from the fellow's belongings. It's held up and examined.
Uschi grunts.
Then she is lumbering away, shuffling towards Ashe -- giving her /a look/, although it is a subtle one. "...How Autumn're ya?" What a rude question! Uschi snuffs the air, and leans in to speak quietly. "Youse able ta glean the workin' of anythin' that may be a Token?" And there it is, something other than bawdy mockery or dismissiveness in Uschi's tone: it's that of somebody who covets. But whatever is hidden in her hand... Is not yet shared.
With her captors A) bifurcated and turned into batbecue and B) knocked unconscious, the gagged and bound mortal doesn't seem all that soothed by the presence of, you know, people who look EVEN FREAKIER THAN THE ONES WHO TOOK HER.
Ahem.
Cerise is her lifeline, chocolate-brown eyes fixing on the ostensibly fellow human person as she flinches at the sound of people fighting in the background.
"Mmmph! MmphPHMMphmmng MMPH!!"
When the gag comes off, she sobs, clinging to Cerise, and cringes any time Vorpal speaks to her, squeaking in terror.
Neirin's answer to 'does she want to forget all of this ever happened' is a heartfelt plea with tear-wet eyes, though she does seem to tremble slightly less when, you know, people are taking care of her Nakedness Issue.
Teagan and Ashe, it must be noted, are on a par with Vorpal. Just seeing them makes the woman cling harder.
"Ta," says Neirin, taking the blanket from Ashe; maybe the woman can do one of those things one does with towels to turn them into skirts, under the coat. "All right," he says, his voice low and quiet and soothing, taking on the lyrical intonation of a storyteller. "Forget you shall, and you'll be safe home in no time." Then he gets out of the way of those with medical knowledge, handing over a first aid kit for its supplies.
Cerise allows the woman to cling, for a little while at least. When Vorpal starts to come close and she sees the reaction she waves him off again, keeping her tone purposefully soft and gentle so as not to startle the woman. "I got it. I'm a doctor. Was. Never mind. I got it. Just ... give her room."
Ashe doesn't go near the woman, but she does pull the hood back so that she can see that she's at least somewhat human under there. All big black and silver eyes and stitched face. That probably doesn't help. When Uschi comes over the woman slips to the ground to look at the trinket and there's a bit of a curious look, "Let's see what we got." she murmurs to her.
Uschi gives a grunt of confirmation -- those shiny, nocturnal eyes flashing in Ashe's direction as the Moon leans in towards the Autumn and shows her what she's got in her hand... Oh, it glimmers. Jewellery maybe? Uschi is trying to be subtle - let only Ashe see and examine the object, and do her magic.
Literal magic. Magic which the Ogress witnessed with open... Envy? Not exactly. Just... Hunger.
Vorpal takes Cerise's cue and backs off, returning to the KO'd loyalist, staring down at her for a moment before dragging her over to where the woman had been trussed up and using the ropes remaining to bind her hands. He looks to her feet, then calls over to Ashe. "Can your buddy lug her back home? I want to learn everything she has to tell us about this damnable bug. Do we have prison cells someplace? Or am I going to need to figure out how to contain her myself?"
The Shadow's fire finally extinguishes, and they stare at Uschi for a moment. Then they go over to help Cerise briefly, but then they go back to the body, and go rooting around through the armor and pockets and such. Teagan winces when they crouch, sliding their bloody machete back into the ring holster at their hip. There's some subtle pain in the way that they move, but at least they come out with something from one of those pockets. They purr contentedly to themselves, tucking it into their pocket. Thieves gonna thief.
Ashe's eyes go pure black as the Autumn's magic seeks out the secrets of the signet ring and there's a moment that her head tilts to the side. "It's a minor token of sorts." she tells the Ogress. And then there's a deep frown, "One that opens a specific gate to Arcadia." she adds. "The catch, is you slice your arm open and tuck it into the wound. Lovely." she states as she blindly runs her fingers over it. "Drawback being that you have to be in Arcadia to use it without agony, and if you try to use it out here in the Hedge, while it does teleport you, it doesn't take you all the way, and everyone within about twenty yards of you is drained of Glamour, including you." she states. "So I suggest we throw this into Mount Doom after we do more legwork unless we get really really desperate...and honestly we aren't ever going to be that desperate." she looks to Uschi.
Done with looting the body, Teagan goes to crouch over the captive. "Awwwww," they laugh, apparently really amused by something. "Did I ruin your murdery love, you torturous, kidnapping fuckface?" Their accent's thicker than usual, the South Philly slamming syllables all into each other, smashing the consonants into the vowels. "I think I stole the secret present your dead boyfriend had for you, you sick fuck." They're laughing now, bright and loud, and reach for the knocked-out woman's neck, pulling another object free rather shamelessly. Opening it, the sound that comes from Teagan is something like if a panther was physically capable of purring. (Panthers cannot purr. Look it up.) Oh, they are so happy now. And covered in silvery bruises. They don't seem to find the bruises a bother now. Where did those things even come from? No one hit them. The things they have get tucked into their pockets, and the Mirrorskin's smile is broad, bright, and predatory.
"And Vorpal, Apollyon can lug the woman back...though why we would grant her the comfort is beyond me." Ashe adds to him.
Uschi's eyes narrow as she listens to Ashe -- watching the Autumn Counsellor's face, as if to read her for Tricksy Lies. Only whatever the Ogress sees in the Fairest, it isn't deceit; merely knowledge... Stepping back a pace, the Ogress makes zero -- ZERO -- move to take the Token ring back. The Black Apple can keep it, since this crust crone has no need for it's dire powers.
"...Whot, ya readin' the Portents now too? Ya dunno how desperate yew'll get..." Said with half a grim, toothy smile -- but a moment later, Uschi is murmuring again, croaky words that melt into a whisper, as the group carries on; "...They say, The Eye of the Eternal Sand's land are far, far from this place; it is a hot, an' desert-ate place..." Mumble, mumble, grumble. The free, feral fae is telling the former Autumn Queen of Fate's Harvest a little story of some foreign keeper. Now. That's downright civilised of the unsociable Ogress, eh?
"Yeah, right, okay, let's get going. Sooner left, sooner home," says Neirin, glancing back at the others -- the looting and the laughing and the token-investigating and the captive-hauling and the drinking and he could really use a drink but he can wait. But maybe the woman wants some, hey! So after he helps her arrange the coat and blanket-skirt, he pulls out one of the bottles of Scotch. It's still sealed. Glenlivet. Only good stuff for this rich working-class alcoholic. "Medicinal," he explains. "Also, I can carry you if you don't want to sit on the horse. Come on--"
If the booze gets her on the horse, great. If it doesn't, then he'll literally carry her piggyback, and probably ask her to at least carry his +1 Bardic Chekhov's Violin. Either way, there is following Ashe out along with everyone else.
"I'm not concerned for her comfort, more for our ability to transport her while she's bound hand and foot. It's harder for her to leave if she can't walk- harder for us to keep her if she can. Moving her on Apollyon's back is the lovely middle ground where we get back fast but don't have to try to make her walk the whole way."
Vorpal's helm turns towards Teagan as they crouch and thieve and taunt the unconscious woman. He reaches out- shadows safely off his hand- and grasp their shoulder. Firmly. There's conversation as they make their way back- but he keeps it between them, for reasons all his own.
The terrified young woman huddles close to Cerise and does whatever she needs to do in order to get OUT of this nightmare as quickly as possible.
There's a wince when their shoulder is grabbed, and the conversation stays between Teagan and Vorpal, but OH MY GOD JOHNNY YOU ARE NOT THE BOSS OF ME radiates off the cranky-ass Summer. It's gonna be an interesting conversation between the two Shadowsouls tonight.
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