Nearly holding her breath as Kenneth responds, Sal is relieved to see his smile and the warmth in his eyes. The first touch of his lips sends an electric tide through her, almost making her hair stand on end. She responds gently, almost languidly, to the first tentative kisses, but as their understanding grows and embraces become more intense, she has no need for words to inform Kenneth that yes, Sal is indeed in favor of passion.
Some time later - minutes, hours, perhaps days - Sal is jarred from her blissful haze by the scrape of a chair on the wooden floor upstairs. She finds that, somehow, she ended up perched lightly in the bard's lap, her good arm around his shoulders to avoid his pained ribs. She breaks off to catch her breath, dropping brief kisses wherever her lips happen to land between quick snatches of speech. Awareness of others in the house annoys her, as her only wish at this moment is for the two of them to be alone together.
"Kenneth, I could use some air," she whispers quite truthfully, "If I remember right, there's a bright moon out tonight. The grounds here are huge and... very private. Care to walk with me? I could show you how beautiful it is by moonlight." Seeing no point in wasting precious time together, she occupies herself while waiting for an answer by nibbling on his neck. "If your poor ribs can stand some exertion," she adds as an afterthought.
At the Club
The digital light show skitters across the haze and across walls augmenting the graceful moves of the Fey. Entranced by the motion and artistry of the event, more than a few people watch on. However the rave isn't focussed on the duo, for there are many stranger sights too. The bald 5' woman rocking out in leathers, the 400lb man in lycra doing jumping jacks to the rhythm, the twins dancing in perfect synchroncity
A quartet of Bohemian looking types walk over to the graceful pair and introduce themselves, inviting them to a local coffee shop to discuss philosophy, poetry, art.... or basically 'shoot the shit' as one of them eloquently puts it. However they seem genuine, thoughtful and most importantly not out of their mind on anything.
Laverna jumps at the chance and soon they find themselves in the shadow of the giant cathedral, the glow of a heater warming the outside - whilst fresh South American coffee prepared in the best Italian styles warm the inside.
Danny's first thought when the 'hip bohemian' crowd introduces themselves is to make sure they're actually human.
What can I say? Hanging with the Fae has made Danny a paranoid sumb!tch.
But he can hardly see through the fog and lights, and even the thought of opening up his Third Eye for a peek makes his aching head throb. Well, Laverna certainly seems intrigued at the prospect of 'shooting the s#%%'. The cool kids wouldn't have noticed, but the calm, cool affirmative that the Fae princess gave was the human equivalent of shouting 'What? intelligent conversation from a human? YES please!' AND jumping up and down like a 5 year old that just got herself a pony.
This once, Danny decides that the risk is on her. (Although some small part of him KNOWS he will likely live to regret that impetuous choice.)
But right now, with the brisk night air slapping his senses back into consciousnesses, and the excellent coffee helping from the inside, Danny starts to feel awake again. He might even be able to participate intelligently in the conversation, if he doesn't forget to turn his brain on first.
Danny decides against trying to steer the conversation into 'safe' territories, as he normally would when riding herd on a Fae who is likely to be insulted as something a normal person would probably find amusing. The entire point of the evening is to teach Laverna about being human. The unspoken agreement is that she will (hopefully) take any untoward comment as part of the educational experience, and not as the immediate call for the man's head, A-La The Red Queen,...
(Funny side note. Danny has found out that the Alice novels were neither drug-induced, nor a thinly-disguised condemnation of the modern government of Lewis Carroll's day. They were based on Carroll's actual experience when the author made his way to Faerie by mistake one day. But that's another story,...)
,... Fortunately, Danny's paranoia seems to be putting in overtime for no reason. The quartet of modern-day beatniks appear to be genuinely interested in actual conversation. And while the looks they give Laverna are appreciative, they refrain from any commenting on her appearance. (Other than one guy who notes, politely, that she made a bold choice with the modern-day conservative business-cut of an,... what was that again? 'pre-apocalyptic adaptation of a post-modernistic nihilistic referenced skirt in a Calvin Klein-esque draped Jacket'.
At which point Danny silently ordered another coffee. And prayed he wasn't out of his league.
From there the conversation went much better than Danny could have hoped. When asked if the lady liked sports, she responded in an enthusiastic affirmative. Then demurely apologized that she hadn't had time to keep up with the local teams in years. (Which was true, as the Lady in question preferred sports from the Medieval era or prior.)
After a few minutes Danny realized that Politics was universal. Even the poor yank from across the pond managed to keep up with what was essentially a commentary on the state of the world in general, and not any one particular leaders faults. (Although a few were mentioned, naturally.)
Danny almost had a heart attack when the most dapper of the group asked Laverna is she had seen the new Star Wars movie yet. But he managed not to spit out his coffee before waving a frantic hand.
"Spoilers mate! Sorry, but I'm pretty sure that she hasn't seen four five and six yet! You do NOT want to ruin that for her now do you?" He grinned. At Laverna's inquisitive eyebrow, Danny knew that he had just volunteered himself for Star Wars Marathon Duty for her highness.
Fortunately for Danny, Laverna HAD seen many of the older classics. And a discourse about the various film styles from the Golden Age of Hollywood was far more diverting to both Laverna and the Fab Foursome than possible Star Wars Spoilers. (Yes, Danny nicknamed the four guys in his head. He does that.)
After that Danny's bleary brain cannot recall what was discussed. But it ran the gamut, as 'good' conversation should do. Noting the time, Danny takes (another) chance, and asks the group if they would like to join them at the blues club.
Kenneth says, "I reckon they can... though, e'en if they cannae, dinnae fret, I'll heal."
Blues Bar
Thus the group head to the blues club. Not a smoky bar of old, but a dimly-lit bar with booths surrounding a dance-floor before a stage. Soft smell of fire-smoke has permeated into the wooden furniture and the band upon the stage are a mismatched group.
Around the room, the few patrons that have shown up are engrossed in the intricate music that seems to soar and take twists and turns so that you never know where it's going next. As Danny and pals, sit down and take notice of blues it seems to have a bit of a jazz riff underscoring some of the melodies. Thus the unexpected roads of harmonies seems to merge with the soulful deep vocals.
Musically it pulls the emotions and you can almost feel that you're on the edge of one of the great American rivers sipping your drinks. The conversation slowly drifts away as the room is gripped by the inspired performance of those on stage - who seem to be performing a one-a-lifetime performance.
After a while Danny looks over to Laverna sat beside him, but....
All that's left on the table is a poker chip, the centre of which has a simple snowflake symbol; an ornate silver cigarette case. Open the case there's a little whoosh of frigid air and inside is a trio of 'cigarettes'. These pale blue cylinders are obviously meant to be lit from one end, however it's not certain that they're meant to be inhaled. Tucked away handily just inside the lid is a calling card;
"If you need me, just light up.
L."
In the morning - at the Manor
Molly's sat at the table still looking a little sheepish and at the same time pale, she looks up as Kenneth enters; "Brother." she says with a hint of warmth and a look of contrition. That simple word and the look in her eyes reflect countless conversations left unsaid, both hers and their fathers.
Arjen puts his hand on the crook of her elbow and tells Kenneth that perhaps they'll stay out of Amsterdam for a while. He's thinking of getting a nice gite in Northern France and doing it up, that'll be best to heal their wounds. His tone implies that maybe not all the wounds are physical, but the compassion in his eyes certainly imply that their on the mend.
Spring has sprung and soon the daffodils that surround the walls of the city like a yellow army fade. However they soon fade with the warmth of summer...
April is unusually warm, whereas May proves to be full of showers especially during the holidays - but June becomes a return to a more continental temperatures; which is where we'll rejoin our players.
There's a power vacuum in York. With Lawrence dead, no-one has stepped up to take his place. In fact no-one has seen or heard of any Red Court vampires since....
The werewolves have been very subdued, as Andrew is still recovering from the betrayal of his pack-leader but not yet ready to attempt to challenge for leadership. Whilst Bunny is still working at her club - which is a trifle intriguing since Lawrence was the owner?? However she's doing alot more modelling for Andrew & internet modelling if asked.
The ghouls have been silent for the last few months, they seem to be staying out of the city as is their want. Some rumours say that they're afraid of it or maybe that they have better sense about forth-coming troubles. The ghosts of the city seems to be more prevalent, with the number of sightings going up. This is great news for the mundanes of the city, since tourism has increased too. It's said that the ghost of Dick Turpin has been seen in the streets, recreating his famous ride to London.
There's some dissension amongst the Coven of the Evil Eye. Sara and her mother seem to be having a little disagreement, whilst Tim has fallen in with the artistic crowd that Andrew hangs around with.
Still riding the adrenaline rush from an explosive night, Sal grabs a packet of bills the next morning, dresses in her best urban chic, and, ignoring the day-after throbbing of her elbow and burned skin, boards the train to London.
She spends a couple of days in the city catching up with old friends, getting a new phone, visiting the street where she, Trip, and Axemius had stopped the dirty bomb from exploding, and trying to persuade her old clubbing companions to quit using. Their offers to bring her back into the scene are surprisingly easy to dismiss, paling in the glowing future she'd built in her head back in York.
But a couple of days' stay is enough time for the euphoria of victory to wear off and paranoia to set in. She slips out of the city on a train bound for Bristol, spends a couple of hours there, then boards another train for Manchester. Then it's Manchester to Leeds, where she buys a bicycle and pedals the half-day to Trip's manor, thanking the stars for Google Maps on phones.
Back in town, she calls her friends to see if anything has fallen out from the debacle with the Poppy Queen, checks in with Letitia and Soph Lauren about the favor Letitia had asked of her, and is pleased that they are able to wrangle a cheap apartment in York and a part-time job at the University without a lot of checking of IDs.
The job, though a cover for the favor, starts out interesting but quickly feels pointless. She tries to tell herself that it's helping educate future generations, but shoving around piles of paper seems so pointless after disarming a nuke and destroying a vampire. Boring, pointless, mundane... if it weren't for her little covert mission, she'd quit in a heartbeat.
Then evenings alone in the apartment turn out to be so very, very long. What did I do with myself in London? You shot up, went clubbing, and did whatever you wanted with whoever you wanted, an unwelcome little voice answers. But that's not what she wants to do now. Is it? She buys a TV and watches a few lurid crime shows, the only things that appeal. One shows the capture of a fugitive after decades on the run. The camera lingers on the faces of the man's wife and children as he is hauled away, unforgiven after building a decent life for himself and supporting a family. She pauses the show, staring at the shock and disbelief of his family for a long time, feeling the cozy little fantasy of a normal life starting to crumble away at its foundations. Suddenly furious, she pounds down the stairs to the street, waylays a couple of young men, and offers them the new TV (complete with cash receipt) if they would just take the damned thing away. Once they examine the receipt and establish between themselves that it's probably real, they take it away, to Sal's relief. But then there's the emptiness and silence.
She makes a few brief attempts to patrol the streets at night, clambering across the tile roofs quite easily and silently, nearly invisible in dark urban camo. But beyond drunks, couples rows, and barking dogs, there isn't much to see. The Spiderman method of fighting crime is seriously inefficient, she thinks wryly as she swings back in through her garret window. The clock says it's only 11 p.m., though she's sure it must be near dawn.
What to do, what to do? Feeling like ants are crawling on her bones, she paces around the little flat. Go drinking? Dancing? Get high? The stupid thoughts keep sneaking into her head, along with the knowledge that the better part of a packet of Poppy money is stashed in the room with her. That potion Kenneth gave me sure helped. Maybe he could make something like that again? What, trading one addiction for another? the dark voice mocks. It's not addiction, it's just... a little help to get through the night. But she has to admit that mocking little voice has a point. Maybe that's what she is doing. Maybe she should quit kidding herself and admit that the Poppy Queen won after all; that she is just a damned junkie, pure and simple.
She dresses, jams the money in her pocket, and hastens out onto the streets.
Only to find herself jog-trotting past all the places she is likely to score what she wants. She settles into the rhythm of running, breathing, booted feet pounding the pavement, and clings to the habits of discipline like the edge of a precipice. She finds herself heading east out of the city, running while she can, jogging until she can no longer lift her legs, then walking to rest up before breaking into a run again. Miles creep by as she pounds along country roads under the starlight, stopping only to plunge her face into the occasional river or stream, not caring how muddy they might be. The sky grows light ahead, but she continues, pushing past exhaustion into a numb, automatic stupor, knowing that she is safe now, she'll never make it back to town in this state. All she has to do is keep going.
Fothergill is quite surprised to see Sal stagger, red-faced and drenched, into the kitchen in the early dawn light. She grabs a pitcher of water and guzzles it in short, controlled intervals as she paces around the courtyard, cooling down. An hour later, she demolishes a breakfast worthy of three farm hands and staggers off to her former bedroom. Wisely allowing her to sleep herself out, Fothergill has more food waiting for when Sal arises, but is disturbed before that by the arrival of a decrepit automobile on a flatbed truck. His efforts to send it away are interrupted by a limping Sal, who waves them in and has them push the old thing into a vacant bay of the garage. She counts out money - not a lot - and pays the men, then disappears into the bay, emerging only to lug tools from the shop into the bay. There's a great deal of pounding, squeaking, and cursing from the garage.
When she finally returns to the house hours later to polish off what must be most of the remaining food in the place, there's a new light in her eyes. She stays at Trip's for the weekend, then goes back to the University Monday morning, begging a ride of the patient butler. That night, a new TV populates the apartement, along with an Xbox and laptop. She settles in for the evening with Battlefield 4 and a repair manual for her latest vehicular acquisition. But tonight, there's no wad of cash stashed in the apartment - just a few bucks in her pocket for food. And that's how she wants it.
Two nights later, she pauses outside the door of a ratty, rundown looking building. A woman pushes past her, then turns and scrutinizes her closely. "This is probably the place you want. Come in."
Sal enters and stands a little away from the group of people in the room as they mingle and chat before finally taking their seats. Minutes later, she screws her courage to the sticking point and answers the call. "Hi. My name's Sal, and I'm an addict."
Sal falls into the habit of staying in town on weeknights and at Trip's on weekends, working on the old car she bought for cash. She spends evenings in her apartment, at meetings, or at the weekly church service. A decent tattoo parlor is also on her routine, where the tribal armband of her former squad is transformed into a band of black foliage, adorned with five blood-red poppies. Once that is finished, she has the artist start on a design around her left wrist, where a patch of skin made it through the inferno undamaged thanks to a set of charred beads. The design looks very much like her rosary, wrapped there as it was that night, only some flight of whimsy has her request an ojo de dios in place of the original cross.
Unlike her first, solitary sojourn in York, Sal contacts people this time, getting together to eat, drink, laugh, and talk with her new friends, cajoling Morien to take her out on Mote, trying to catch her musician friends' gigs, occasionally dining with Letitia, and doing her best to fill her life with... well, life.
Spring had given way to Summers delicate touch, the Viking festival was upon the city of York - celebrating it's heritage and their indefatigable spirit against the Nordic raiders. Since Lawrences death there had been an unearthly quiet than had descended upon the supernatural community, in many ways as if the locale was still in shock at the death of the immortals and the city was feeling the shock at the vacuum in power. However it must soon be filled and there were murmurings amongst the spirits that roamed this most haunted of English cities.
There were said to have been disappearances from some of the more supernatural inhabitants of the city, however today was a happier time - a festival to celebrate the past and a renewal for the future.
The sounds of pipe & tabor fill the air with upbeat Celtic-folk music, that drifts across the park. Vast tracts of greenery compose the park upon the rivers edge, the Museum Gardens are well manicured with a host of bustling tents and entertainments - each one having a host of people moving around it. However the gala isn't too outrageously busy, just enough to feel a palpable sense of excitement without the oppressive sense of throngs of humanity.
There are numerous stalls and events going on, from:
All of these is in the shadows of the museum and an ancient ruins of a castle. The midday sun is out and providing the event with a warm glow that brings out the best in the British populace, or at least the minimal amount of clothing as they rush to make the best of the rare sight of sun.
Danny stops walking to take in the view of the entire Park. He scans everything, from the Museum, to the tents of the Fair, to the ruins of the castle. Seeing the Merry-Go-Round and the Morris Men Danny shakes his head with a wry smile.
"It's the Picnic scene from Mary Poppins!" He declares to Min and Lin, who are each hanging on an arm. (Making it VERY difficult to carry his guitar case. So he slings it on his back.)
The girls do an excellent FGS (Fan Girl Squeal) and tug Danny's arms to get him moving again. He is wise enough not to try and fight them. The twins are as bright eyed and eager to get to the fun as any of the children.
"Come ON!" The girls say in perfect stereo. Laughing, Danny follows willingly. He can't help it. When the girls go into full-on Twinsies/Stereophonic Speaking Mode he knows there's no changing their minds. Although he suspects it's more because he LIKES following the twins. He certainly appreciates the view.
Shaking his head, Danny steps back in between the girls. "Alright alright! But I remind you, there will be no marathon Ball-Throw Prize winning until AFTER I get paid for the gig at the beer tent." He says in his best 'Firm-Daddy' voice.
The girls roll their eyes.
"Like money is ever a problem!" Says Min.
"We've got you covered!" Agrees Lin.
"We pay, you play."
"The Stuffed Prizes are ours!"
"We treat you, you treat us,"
"A little this, a little that,"
"A little T!t, a little Tat,"
"It's a mutually beneficial arrangement!" The twins lean into Danny at the same time.
Danny's eyes shift in surprise from side to side. The twins are Fun to joke and flirt with. (Yes. With a capitol 'F'.) And they give as good as they get. (Hence the fun!) But they are usually more, 'proper', in public at least. Daddy's orders. (The dance club is another story!) The fact that they are already acting like schoolgirls with a crush means they are in 'Fun-Time' mode. And Danny thought the fair would be nice and boring after that LAST round of excitement they had a few weeks ago.
Yep. Danny didn't need his tea leaves read to see cold showers in his future.
Danny moves his hands from the girls arms to their waists and pulls them just a smidge closer, matching his own hips to the girls swaying walk.
"Okay then ladies, Let's DO this! Those Carnies won't know what hit em!" Danny declares to all in earshot.
"BUT, If I see a nanny with a parrot-headed umbrella, I am OUTTA here! I'll face Trolls, Vampires and Werewolves, but I am NOT pi$$ing HER off!" He adds Sotto Voice, his eyes wide in mock fear.
All three laugh and skip forward together singing "We're OFF to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of OZ!"
The effect is somewhat ruined by Danny's guitar attempting to beat the back of his head with every skip, and their mutual reluctance to lose the hip contact, which turns their skip-along into more of a trip-along. Which causes them to burst into yet more peals of laughter, drawing amused glances from the other attendees as they enter the fair grounds.
The prospect of spending a weekend in her apartment in town didn't seem nearly so dreary now that summer and the Viking Festival were here. Besides, the last time she'd worked on her "new" car back at Trip's place, she'd made such an oily mess in the kitchen that the cook had shot her a look that made her duck instinctively, accustomed to a stinging slap from her mother or grandmother when she had seen that same look in the past.
And so she had called Letitia, to see if the Warden planned to attend the festival. After the resulting yes, they made plans to meet at the festival for dinner and drinks and whatever else might strike their fancy. Sal found herself out and about early, though, unwilling to miss one minute of the beautiful day waiting around inside. Freed from the constraints of school and work, she slipped into an outfit more appropriate for Soho than the University offices: a short black dress (or long T-shirt) with a huge skull printed across the front, black hightops (also with a skull motif), and a short black leather jacket that concealed her shoulder harness and little pistol. She tossed on Goth-dark makeup and spiked her growth of new hair, just to keep in practice. Her piercings were all filled too, to keep the holes open and to go with the overall look. A few random black leather straps completed the theme. Since the fairgrounds were only a few blocks from her apartment, she put wallet and keys in the jacket pocket, and bounced down the stairs and out the door to the sunny street.
Thin and lithe, Sal has no problem slipping around the small groups making up the light early crowd scattered across the fairgrounds. She moves quickly to get the lay of the land and an idea of the exhibits and attractions, then works her way back the other way, checking out anything that caught her eye the first time through. First off, she buys a bottle of mead and sips it while meandering slowly through the fair, marveling at it being legal to carry an open bottle in public. The mead's flavor is interesting, but not altogether to her taste. Worth the try, though. Stuff could grow on ya.
She's pleased to see from the schedule of live performances that Danny will be playing in the beer tent later. Wonder if his Tong Ladies will attend. Now that's a weird situation. Not going near it. Shaking her head, she skims lightly past the children's rides, ignoring the stares of the roadies at her bare legs; she's uncertain whether they are staring at the amount exposed skin or the several large brownish patches which still mark where the burns from the night of Lord Lawrence's demise have healed. Still, her time in Soho taught her to ignore stares. To be honest, she didn't care what they were looking at or thinking.
The exhibits are familiar yet strange, diesel fumes from the rides and scent of food bringing memories of neighborhood fairs from childhood. Unconsciously, she avoids the booths set up nearest the Ouse, its sparkling wavelets looking nothing but sinister these days. The only time she feels comfortable around water is when Morien is around to make it seem less hostile; otherwise, it's nothing but a great, gaping void full of menace and debt.
The maypole and Morris dancers are all new and intriguing, but she can't help but feel the whole proceeding is a bit... well, phallic. She blushes a bit at the thought and moves along to the "battlefield", watching the combat demonstrations and mock battles with an uncomfortable mixture of curiosity and dismay. War isn't a game, she thinks, but can't help but be interested in the ancient weapons and methods, so different from her own.
The craft stalls catch her attention for the first time ever. Now that I have a place of my own, maybe I should get something to decorate it. I'm becoming so damned domestic! She meanders through the booths, the mead unexpectedly rich, warm and a bit head-swimmingly strong, goggling at the display of varied goods and unable to make a decision from the bewildering variety. Browsing some metal artwork, she glances up and, to her surprise, recognizes the couple manning the booth.
"Laura! Sven!" Sal smiles in greeting, then remembers to lift the stuffed Viking horned helmet with braided red yarn beard off her head so they would have a chance to recognize her. Slightly embarassed, she tuckes the somewhat juvenile purchase under her arm and offers her free hand. "I'm Sal. We met at that, um, eventful gallery opening a while back. It's good to see you! I hope today is somewhat less exciting." She waves at the stuffed helmet and beard a bit sheepishly. "Er... I think the mead drowned my better judgement."
Kenneth looks over the fairgrounds with an appreciative whistle, Ach, this isnae the mess I feared it would be... I mean, aye, 'tis chaos, but it seems tae be the fun sort ay chaos... and at least it isnae a giant pile ay cheap tourist baubles and neo-pagans that wouldnae ken a real druidic ritual if it bit them, like at that fair in Kilarney.... though I cannae say that the dancing 'round the fire wasnae a fair spot ay fun... though I cannae recall a single one ay those witches... I really did only have eyes for Cait... Though, speaking ay that, Sloane is supposed tae be here with some ay the 'special' brew..
The bard straightens his sporran then pulls himself up to his full height, trying to look over the heads of most of the crowd, scanning it for a familiar face, then suppressing a laugh when he spots Danny and the twins. That one seems tae enjoy dancing with danger e'en more than I dae, Lady. I cannae help but wonder if ye've sent me here just tae keep a mortal alive that ye find amusing, e'en if he isnae native tae your isle... He reaches back, straightening the guitar in the soft-case, 'Tis as bad as carrying a claidhmor... though, the plus side ay Laura working today is that it didnae sit between us on the bike.
The bard looks up to the sun, Still a few hours 'ere I'm tae play, and it shouldnae take all that long tae find Sloane... though as much as I might find a tankard inviting, there's a bit ay time tae kill... So, I'm thinking I'd best offer Baldur the Lady's greeting... and my own.. The thought trails off as Kenneth notices an unfamiliar green-eyed freckled beauty waking over to the games, ..a'course, Baldur's nigh-immortal and I suppose it would be untoward tae nae introduce myself... and, a'course, impress the lovely lass... in the Lady's name.
With that, the bard heads toward the overpriced game booths, a broad smile on his face, ...fortunately, I've more than a wee bit ay experience at being impressive. He looks around and then chuckles, A'sides, it seems that Sal will be keeping Baldur company for a wee spot... though I must say that it's good tae see her.
Edwyn’s opa had always warned him that smoking would kill him one day. As always, the old man knew better than him; what was more, he ended up speaking from experience. Unfortunately, stress had its way of reigniting discarded bad habits. He had not touched a cigarette in almost a decade. The good news was that he did not have to worry about it killing him anymore. The joke was on his opa, he supposed, but it was not very funny. He lets out a low chuckle anyway, for old times’ sake. Deciding that break time is over, Edwyn pulls out his pocket ashtray and puts out his cigarette; he was not about to add littering to his list of bad habits.
Stepping away from the tree he had been leaning on, Edwyn moves to wander the fairgrounds in search of his mark. After months of false starts and leads that went nowhere, he finally had something that resembled an achievable goal. Considering how long he had been on the case - longer than any he had ever taken before, certainly - it was embarrassing how little information he had managed to gather. Even more frustrating was his client, who insisted on being as cryptic as possible. If he were less pragmatic, the detective would worry about how this would all affect his reputation. Grounded as he was in reality, he knew full well that he had bigger problems on his hands. Problems that he would have to tackle when he wasn’t on the job.
While unfortunate, being a tourist was a convenient cover. Edwyn’s pallor drew the occasional odd stare, but to the common eye he was just a rather pasty foreigner. Far from flattering, but he preferred to keep it that way. To add to his cover, he occasionally stops to gawk at the nearest attraction, making sure to snap plenty of photos with his camera. For posterity, of course. To polish the illusion, he helps himself to the local cuisine, settling for a sandwich that was probably packed with a little too much protein. Despite assurances that he could eat and drink normally, Edwyn took each bite with the enthusiasm one could find in someone chewing on an old sock. It was a pitiful sight, really.
As he munches on his sandwich, Edwyn watches the picnickers without making it terribly obvious that there was someone he was looking for. The woman in the lilac summer dress, and her husband. He very much doubted that it would be difficult to find them. Since staying incognito was out of the question, he could only hope that she did not recognize him. Considering how well the last time they were in a room together went, he could only imagine how awkward things could get. He was already half-expecting a shootout, or for something nearby to burst into flames. These days, expecting the worst possible outcome did not seem so crazy.
Sal leaves the booth with a cheery wave of her hand to the couple, clutching the horseshoe she had purchased for good luck in the other. Resuming her stuffed Viking headgear, complete with yarn beard, Sal resumes her stroll, this time deciding to definitely get nearer the river. I'm not going to let fear of that stupid water rule my life forever, she thinks, drifting down the Tower Gardens path for a dozen yards or so. Her steps gradually slow as she nears the sward bordering the river. Close enough. No point rushing things. Yeah, good time to leave now.
She turns from the sparkling water to return to the museum and the fair proper, when she spots a tall, handsome, auburn-haired man sauntering around the gaming booths, chatting up a young beauty. With a grin, she pauses to consider joining the pair, then is distracted by the sight of a pale man munching on what is apparently a sawdust sandwich meandering towards the river. There’s something familiar about him, isn’t there?
Secure in her wooly Viking disguise, she strolls closer so their paths nearly cross. Finally, a memory of a kind face from a horrible time in her life clicks in. Walking briskly, she makes a beeline for the guy and "accidentally” bumps him off the sidewalk, grabbing onto his shirt as if for balance.
”YOU!” she hisses, eyes blazing, ”What are YOU doing here, ya punk? Come to give up my name? No, of course not, because you already did, didn’tcha? DIDN’TCHA?” Fury seems to bring out her Chicago accent, which had been in a fair way to being tamed by her time in a civilized land. ”Joke’s on you, bub - they already know. They knew it in London. Knew everything. So you’re too late. Or are you just here to ID me and get the reward?” She glances around nervously, giving the hapless man a shake, then switches her grip to his forearm to be slightly less noticeable. ”Geez, buddy, put on a sweater. You’re like ice…”
Sal’s tirade trails off as she realizes how very cold Edwyn is. What the hell? She gapes at him in astonishment.
Danny was having a great time. He had forgotten how much he loved the 'playing medieval', as opposed to having to 'GO medieval' when dealing with his 'other job'.
Between just having a general good time at the fair, watching others enjoy themselves, (clueless to the darker nature of the things they laughingly played at), and the twins apparently delighting in sending him mixed messages to unravel, Danny was enjoying himself thoroughly.
The twins had devoured at least 3 power-sugar-covered pastries that Danny was fairly certain never existed way back then, they had shared a turkey leg, and had played several antiquated versions of modern carny games. They laughed far harder and louder at the puppet show and the comical sword fighting demonstrations than the jokes actually warranted, just because they could. They were walking along arm-in-arm, doing an adequate 'Dorothy, Scarecrow, Dorothy' impersonation, on their way to watch some of the jousting and open-field combat planned for the day. A glance at his watch reminded Danny that he hadn't found his tent for his small gig yet, (In his defense, the place was HUGE, and they were having fun!) but he still had time.
(He hadn't had this much fun in ages, especially with the twins. He would MAKE time!)
Off to the side he noticed a couple stumble into each other. They weren't the only ones who had enjoyed the 'authentic' ales and such the fair provided. But his gaze lingered, there was something familiar,... as the girl turned towards him slightly, seeming to hold onto the man for mutual support, Danny realized it was Sal.
'Wow. She looks good.' Danny silently observed. He watched as Sal speaks to the man. Funny, Danny thought Sal didn't drink? The guy must have stumbled into her. Danny was deciding that they must be alright whenhe was interrupted by a petite, snapping hand in front of his face. One of the twins, (He wasn't even sure which one it was. Danny had also been happily sampling the authentic beverages.) was trying to get his attention.
"Hello? Earth to Danny? Come in Danny." The girl on his right said.
"Maybe we wore him out? We don't usually have any trouble keeping his attention." Said the girl on his left.
"Oh I hope not. The day is young. We're not even to the night yet." Came the saucy reply from the right.
Danny sighed mentally. He was either going to need another drink, or a cold shower by the time this day was done. Or both.
"Ladies, please." Danny smiled, turning his full attention back to the twins.
"Only a dead man could fail to have his attention riveted by the two of you. Although trying to keep up with both of you MAY kill me."
"Only one way to find out!" Danny added in a deeper, husky voice, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
Feigning shock, both the twins pulled away in mock alarm, but neither relinquished their grip on their respective hand of Danny's, pulling him forcefully along in their wake.
Laughing, Danny did his best to catch up before he ended up tripping and falling on his face. they continued towards the field events, Sal forgotten behind him.
Edwyn blinks at the bearded woman, sawdust sandwich still firmly held in his free hand. Seeing as she seemed more interested in yelling at him than in causing him any bodily harm, he makes no attempt to extract himself from her grasp. Instead he takes advantage of the proximity to look her up and down, looking past her ridiculous guise and discerning her true identity. It does not take long for the gears in his head to start whirring. You've got to be kidding me...
Usually Edwyn was a bit more careful about running into former clients while on the job. There was always the risk of confidentiality being breached. But even back in Amsterdam it did not happen all that often, so he sure as hell did not expect it to happen in York of all places. Yet here he is, being accosted by a woman he was rather certain that he would never see again. The woman with the vampire story. Even with all of the oddness that he was familiar with, it had sounded so crazy, so unbelievable at the time. And then the last month happened. The whole thing was just one bad joke after another. This time, Edwyn does not laugh.
The detective calmly waits until the end of the woman's tirade before cutting her off, unwilling to let her delve too deeply into his problems.
"Miss Salazar, right?" he finally replies, attaching a name to a face. How could he forget it? He was the one that gave it to her, after all. An exception to an unspoken rule. For now, he sticks with the usual spiel; professionalism, and all that. "I take client confidentiality very seriously. Especially when said client is off the books. So I can assure you, our meeting here is strictly coincidental."
Only now does Edwyn attempt to remove his arm from Sal's grasp, before she has the chance to ask any awkward questions. He looks her up and down again, noticing that she looks a lot better off than the last time he saw her. Better off enough to make him wonder what could have possibly went wrong. Still, he was not about to let his curiosity drag him off on yet another tangent. Not when he finally had a lead on this ridiculous case.
"Look, I don't know what happened to you, but I'm a little preoccupied at the moment. I'm on another job." As though to emphasize this point, he glances about, a little more exaggeratedly than he normally would.
"You... you're brushing me off?!" Sal whispers fiercely, "After you set me up with a name that was recognized by guys who PUT A FREAKIN' NUKE IN SOHO? Who else knew besides you, me, and... a ghost? Who else could give me up? And it's Ms. Lopez now, since I had to go all the way to Edinburgh to get a new name." Not that I minded THAT trip. "Just call me Sal. It works for all of my names and it's safer than remembering my current name."
What the... a nuke? If it were not for the fact that the last crazy story Sal told him ended up being true, he would probably walk away there and then. It's not like there was a dead boyfriend to vouch for her this time. As usual however, he just could not help himself. He glances around one more time before giving Sal his undivided attention.
"Look, there are plenty of people and... things that could have figured you out," he reasons, keeping his voice just low enough to be covered up by the din. Of course, there was precious little he could do to stop anything spooky from listening in. "I don't know who exactly you managed to piss off, but if they found you even with the cover I gave you, then I don't think just changing your name is going to do much."
"What? But we were the only ones who knew, right?" Sal glances around as if expecting Men in Black behind every tree. "How could they find out? And they tied the name you found for me to my old service records. How? Dude, I just took off my tinfoil hat and started getting comfortable here."
Sal's voice turns quieter as she scrutinizes Edwyn. "You don't look well, man. And... I never paid you or anything. I couldn't then. I have some money now; I can pay what I owe. Or if you need help here in town, I know some folks - normal and very much not - and can maybe get information if you need it. I mean, I'm pissed that my alias was blown, but I'm still grateful for your help. You got me here, at least, and that has meant everything." She looks a little abashed at her earlier outburst.
Edwyn frowns. The truth was, there were a few other people that knew about the little arrangement he made for Sal. People who he could usually count on to keep their lips sealed. There were not exactly many people asides from him they could mouth off to; they were dead, after all. I'm going to need my own goddamn tinfoil hat at this rate.
"Not a clue," he replies, shaking his head. In situations like these, he did not feel like he was very smart. "But you know what? You look pretty well off, considering all the bullshit you say you've gone through. Better than the last time I saw you. So something had to have worked out, yeah?"
As the topic of payment comes up, Edwyn initially raises a hand in objection. Money did not seem to be an object to him at the moment - the platinum card in his wallet felt almost felt like a brick to him. When she mentions information however, his arm freezes.
"I might take you up on that," he concedes, averting his eyes to the crowd once more.
"Yeah, a lot of things have worked out, and I don't want to see them ruined. I don't have money with me, but tell me what I owe and I'll get it. Cash OK? Heck, you could come to the house for a hot meal. God knows you need it." Sal scrutinizes the man closely. She may be looking better, but he certainly isn't. He looks awful.
He'd helped when she was in trouble. She certainly wasn't going to leave the guy in the lurch.
"I can't accept payment for a half-assed job," Edwyn replies genuinely, shaking his head. It didn't show, but he was growing increasingly uncomfortable; it almost felt as though Sal could see right through him. Under ordinary circumstances, he would have been all too happy to look into what blew her cover. Follow-up appointments were always covered by company policy, after all. But the longer the two of them stayed in contact, the greater the risk of her figuring out what was going on with him.
"And look, you don't have to worry about me. I'm just... a bit ill. Nothing a few pills can't fix." Yeah, right.
Sal had always loved her abuela, but had recognized from childhood that the woman was a terrible busybody. Her youthful resolution to never be like that weighed heavily at the moment. She was seized by an urge to shake the man and find out what the heck was going on. Common sense indicated that he wouldn't have let her blunder into him if he'd known she was here, so his visit probably had nothing to do with her. Paranoia whispered otherwise.
He did me a favor when I desperately needed it. If he had betrayed me - intentionally, anyway - he wouldn't have come anywhere near me. No way he knew I was here. Even though he's an investigator. Shut up, brain.
"OK. I know a brush-off when I get one." Sal smiles to show there are no hard feelings. "Look, here's my number. I live in town during the week and not too far out on weekends. Give me a call if you need anything or want to get together. Thanks again for the help. You saved my life." She scribbles her number on a piece of sandwich paper, tearing a corner off the wrapper before he can stop her and shoving it back once it's been numerized.
"Enjoy the fair. It's a gorgeous day for it!"
Sal takes her horseshoe and strolls off.
"Yeah... You do the same," Edwyn murmurs as Sal walks off in a totally different mood than she had approached him in. It was almost like she was a totally different person; he supposed that she was, after a fashion. He had done right (or wrong) by her, and now she wanted to help him. She had seemed so surprised to run into him, but only now does it occur to him how large of a coincidence it really was. He couldn't just brush it off and say "small world" anymore... especially now that he knew how big the world really is.
Glancing at the piece of sandwich wrapper she scrawled on, Edwyn transfers it to his pocket. I'm not sure I like this, he thinks, taking a big bite out of his sandwich. Maybe it was his imagination, but it didn't taste so bad anymore. Someone is playing at something.
Sal quickly bebops back home to drop off the silly headgear and horseshoe, and to change into less conspicuous jeans, t-shirt, and boots. She pulls a tweed cap over her curls.
Then she heads back to the fair to see the sights, particularly if those sights include Edwyn Mulder.
Keep your friends close and your enemies within range of your primary firearm.
She wasn't sure which Edwyn was, but she was darn sure going to find out as long as he was on her turf.
Hawker calls loudly, his flat cap atop his ruddy and solid features. A call for all the good boys & girls to scream if they want to go faster. The carousel grinds and seems to wail with a soft scream that gives enhances the janky music with an echoing groan.
The controller in the centre booth, surrounded by pipe smoke that virtually obscures him from view, opens a toothless grin across his gnarled visage. A cackle lost in the chaotic swirl of the ride, that seems to call out.
Edwin notices that Henri Miller & his wife turn to the fairground ride as the ethereal groans start. Henri himself seemingly unconcerned and unfocussed on the matter at hand.
A voice soft as the river whispers to Sal as she retreats from the edge; "Milady, I sense your fear. You fear my chill embrace?"
Min & Lin grab Danny's arms dragging him towards the monks and their honeycakes and mead; "This is very nice, you said you were performing later?" Min asks. Lin replies; "Maybe if you're good we can show you something we've been practising!"
Laura approaches Ken with a smile and softly squeezes his arm; "Good to see you. It's certainly a sight here - great to think that the University is sponsoring the security and some of the events. Although anything that helps the culture is good, maybe we can beat Hull next year for the EU capital of culture." She says with wry irony of the 'award' and Hull's lack of culture.
A Viking dragon boat glides past, the dozen thickly hewed men pulling it down the River Ouse with the authentic oars. A subsequent one, further down river cannot catch it and seems to veer off course slightly, as the current or detritus moves it away.
Kenneth smiles at Laura's arrival, Well, now, that should keep a body out ay trouble... and, she's a lass that's a sight, e'en for eyes that arenae sore... He pulls her into him, "Quick, lass, 'afore some boor tries tae claim ye. I'll have tae protect you from the unwashed masses.... and 'specially the frat boys that might try tae claim ye as some sort ay carnival prize."
He chuckles at the thought of one of them trying it, then adds, "Though 'tis certain ye're muckle finer than any ay the prizes tae be won here today.... even afore we factor in yer handcuffs."
He winks mischievously then adds, "..almost as fine as a lass from Hull."
Min & Lin grab Danny's arms dragging him towards the monks and their honeycakes and mead; "This is very nice, you said you were performing later?" Min asks. Lin replies; "Maybe if you're good we can show you something we've been practicing!"
"Ooooo!, Promise?!?" Danny waggles his eyebrows yet again.
Danny shakes his head with a laugh. It wobbles slightly more than he thinks it should. How many meads has he had? Ah well, ONE more won't hurt. Much.
"Ladies! As much fun as it is, ONE of these days your going to have to stop teasing and actually Ante up!" Danny chuckles with a cartoon-worthy leer as he signals the vendor in the wooden stall for three drinks.
Danny passes out the Styrofoam cups as Min, (Or was it Lin?!?) pulls out a wad of bills from her tiny purse and peels off a couple to pay the vendor with. Stepping away from the stall the three tap their foam cups together, managing not to spill any this time, and start drinking. They wander and visit the next couple of stalls in the area, all three reaching an unspoken agreement that;
1) mead is best enjoyed on a full stomach, and
2) Fair food is always tasty! Especially with friends to share it with.
"Hey!" Danny says to get the twins attention, pointing at the carousel.
"Before we get TOO full, we should ride the Carousel!"
The words are hardly out of his mouth before Danny is being forcibly drug once more.
"Great Idea!"
"We thought you'd never ask!"
"SOME boys just don't get how to have FUN!"
The twins took turns exclaiming, practically bouncing in their enthusiasm.
Time seems to slow down for a moment, and Danny smiles at the twins, simply enjoying their company and zest for life. They are almost fae-like in their desire to enjoy life to the extreme. AND Danny immediately squashes that thought into the background with fervor. NO way was he going to let the Fae or even the thought of them interfere with today. As far as Danny is concerned, he is on vacation. And anything to do with the Fae can darn well wait until AFTER the bloody fair!
Danny shoves the last bite of something deep-fried, covered with sugar and undeniably unhealthy into his mouth. Barely. (He swears for a moment that he can hear his arteries hardening.) He chases it down with the remainder of his drink, and manages to shove the cup into the trash can and not next to it like several other fair-goers have done.
"Ladies, let's go to the races!" Danny declares, gesturing for them to precede him to the ride.
"Dibs on the Pink unicorn!" Cry both girls in unison.
"Jinks!"
"Jinks again!"
Sal scowls at her boot toes as she walks the short few blocks from her flat back to the fair, hands jammed in the pockets of her leather jacket and head down as she ponders. Navigation consists of finding gaps between the pairs of legs in her vision.
A voice in her head near the river? A year ago, she'd have said it was her imagination. Now, though, she is not so sure. From time spent with Morien, she's fairly certain that the powers of the selkie and their ilk don't extend to thought projection. So what was it?
More troubling is Edwyn's presence. She'd stopped believing in coincidences and started seeing the world more as a cuckoo clock designed and operated by forces beyond her understanding, some benign, some benevolent, some neither. A faint prickle washes across the back of her neck. If something goes down with Edwyn, I don't want to kill him. Knife, gun... damn, why did I leave that horseshoe at home? I need to carry something less fatal more often.
Before she returns to the riverside park to find Edwyn again, she stops by the blacksmith's booth, peeling a couple of bills from her wallet. "I think another horseshoe is in order. Just realized there are two places I can hang them for luck. Besides, can't have too many horseshoes. Even if you're not a horse." She babbles in unease. The ironworker/sculptor strikes her as being uncannily perceptive. Will he sell it to me if he knows I might clock somebody with it?
While she waits for the ironmongery, the carousel catches her attention, all whirling cacophony and flashing lights. It suddenly brings to mind a verse from one of her "in the know" research forays.
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
She shakes her head, uncomfortable with the thought. "You can be too educated," she mutters, not realize that she's developed the habit of talking to herself aloud in her empty rooms just to break the silence.
She looks away and spots the boats full of manly thews on the river. "Now *there's* a good reason to go near the water." She smiles to herself.
With a haphazard toss, Edwyn sends the crumpled remains of his cigarette pack flying into the same trashcan he had thrown his sandwich wrapper into. Not even an hour ago, the pack had been half-full. His brief meeting with Sal had left him feeling on the edge, for more than a few reasons. She was, after all, his first-ever indication that there were spooky things in the world beyond just ghosts. Yeah. There's vampires, wizards, and portals to nightmare dimensions. What else?
Sal had been his first real indication that all of those things existed. Or at least, the first indication he had really noticed; it had certainly been blatant enough. In hindsight, there were probably a lot of strange things he had overlooked. Over a decade of detective work, and not once had he even considered that there was something more to it all. It was a bit embarrassing, to say the least. Sal's mention of a nuke seemed fairly mundane (and almost funny), by comparison.
"All right, that's enough of the self-pity," he grumbles to himself, filing away his emotional baggage for the time being. He was not lying when he told her that he had a job to do - it was not like him to procrastinate. One bad habit at a time, thank you.
Fortunately, Edwyn's due diligence is quickly rewarded. His attention grabbed by the rather eerie sound of the carousel, he just as soon recognizes the two familiar figures standing nearby. Well I'll be damned. A part of him wondered whether Mr. and Mrs. Miller had been standing there the whole time. Sparing himself another potential embarrassment, Edwyn focuses on the matter at hand. Slowly and subtly, he closes in on the two, using the crowd as his camouflage. The idea, of course, was to find out what the hell they were doing there.
Laura's smile despite the duty she's doing turns to a puzzled gaze and horror as she stares past Kenneth.
Edwins moves near the Millers as the man stares into the flowing river as it slips past, the look of a junkie or the addled.
The twins coo over the items for sale, seeming to enjoy not just the consumerism but the haggling for price and the company.
Whilst Sals' is drawn to the viking re-creationists in their dragon boats pulling swiftly with the flow. The second boat seems to take a drastic shift and the boat glides with remarkable hast to the riverbank. Before smashing into the steep bank with a horrific splintering of wood. The dozen figures aboard seem to leap out as it shatters, arcing at least a dozen feet into the air and scattered amongst the huge lawn of the fair.
As they land they split up into small groups, their tunics and leathers coming askew revealing pale flesh. During the flight they seem to have transformed into weird mutations of themselves, limbs elongated, hair slipped from scalps, faces distorted into asymmetrical aberrations that'd make the elephant man gasp.
One trio of horrors moves towards area selling mead and trinkets, the holy men seem less startled than the other patrons and stand their ground amongst the fleeing patrons.
Another trio move around the stalls stalking towards Edwin and throwing crude but hugely powerful fists at the festival goers.
Yet another stalks towards the sculpture area, intent on violence and mayhem.
Smashing through the picnic area, the final trio are definitely not ghouls or some undead monstrosity. A vibrant energy of life emanates from them, these mutated warriors from a by-gone era.... however all groups seem not to be moving randomly, but with purpose.
The music of the carousel seems to keep these strange trollish men away. However Min looks to Lin and rather than being timid, smile at Danny; "Well I guess we can show you some of what we've learned sooner, rather than later..."
There's the soft crackle of Laura's radio as she tries to call this in... unsure of what exactly to report though the words 'riot and mass casualties' seem to spring forth.
Danny, after the requisite momentary lapse of belief and subsequent wide-eyed observation of the boat crash and resulting monster-launching, hangs his head until his chin hits his chest with a thud.
Danny then raises his eyes heavenward.
"JUST when you thought it was safe to go back in the water,..." He quotes the old JAWS commercial grumpily.
The music of the carousel seems to keep these strange trollish men away. However Min looks to Lin and rather than being timid, smiles at Danny; "Well I guess we can show you some of what we've learned sooner, rather than later..."
"Wait? What!?" Danny looks up in panic from where he is trying to get his guitar out of his case.
"Waitaminute! Don't you girls go doing anything I'm gonna regret!" Danny demands in his best 'I'm-Daddy-obey-Me' voice.
He glances at the nearest escapees from a Hollywood horror flick.
"Oh C'Mon! If THEY don't kill me, your FATHER will!!" He adds plaintively.
Edwyn is barely ten paces behind the Millers when the boat loudly crashes into the riverbank. Even through the carousel's eerie music he hears the screams of alarm and panic, prompting him to whip his head around and take in the unfolding chaos. An audible groan escapes his lips. You have GOT to be kidding me.
He sorely wished that he could chalk the culprits down to roided-up circus freaks, but the truth was, they were far too ugly for that. Having grown accustomed to the bizarre over the past few months, what he felt now was not fear, but abject exasperation.
"I guess I can add whatever the hell these things are to the list..." he grumbles as he instinctively reaches for a cigarette, forgetting that he had already emptied the pack. He huffs with annoyance and looks back at Mr. Miller, who seemed totally oblivious to the ongoing insanity. With a few more glances around the area, Edwyn realizes he was apparently standing in a "safe zone" of sorts. And from the looks of it, he was not the first person to notice it. How convenient...
Eyeing the goons nearest to him attacking people, Edwyn presses his lips into a fine line and moves toward the stalls. He did not exactly fancy himself as being a Big Damn Hero - far from it - but he'd have to be a real a+~&##& to stand around and do nothing.
"You just lost all your sexy points, gentlemen," Sal mutters to herself while stashing the horseshoe in her pocket and drawing a pistol, all in one smooth motion. More loudly, she calls to the people in the booths, "Run! Terrorists! Get away from the river! I'll hold 'em here."
Taking a stable stance at the end of the booths, she raises the pistol. Gunshots are going to panic the crowd, but they need to get out of here. Not much else to do. Wish I had something better than this popgun. Holding the "popgun" in a braced, two-handed grip, she picks a target, tracks it, and squeezes. The deep boom of the Desert Eagle rolls across the park, just one shot on the target. Her marksman's pride scorns a hail of bullets, particularly in a crowd.
There's an almost palpable thick briny smell that assaults the senses from the no-necked ex-vikings, cloying at the back of the throat. A cool soft sea breeze seems to roll in with them, fighting the warmth of the morning.
Zone A - Carousel
NPC's / Aspects: Weird Carnie Carousel, Maypole
PC's: Sal
Sal's shot rings out, the boom of the desert eagle is strangely muffled by the harmonics of the carousel - who's operator is unfazed by the attack, dancing between the horses and columns of his ride in a strange flowing rhythm.
However that's the only thing unconcerned, the ex-viking takes Sal's shot through it's forehead as the snipers aim is true - even with the handgun. The beast flips completely over as if clotheslined by a train, before coming to rest upon the grass completely still.
His wingmen, seeing their companion felled charge forwards towards her. The first aims a massive swing, capable of decapitating, but only partially as a distraction. Whilst his companion dives in low for a rugby tackle. "You'll get the point..." it rasps opening it's mouth to reveal shark teeth.
Zone B - Beer Stalls
NPC's / Aspects: Min & Lin, Mead-Monks
PC's: Danny
Whilst Lin's hands seem to glow with a soft Jade light, enveloping her fore-arm as perspiration forms on her brow - a soft incantation mutters from her lips. Then the jade 'fire' blazes out in a punch towards the creature.
"Cannot have you 'protecting' us... Lin says, before Min finishes her sentence her voice coming out ragged. "...all the time."
:
Zone C - Picnic Area
NPC's / Aspects: Mr & Mrs Miller
PC's: Edwin
Add Aspect: Terror from the Deep
;
Zone D - Artistic Entrance
NPC's / Aspects: Sven Olaffsson, WPC Laura
PC's: Kenneth
Whilst a second craft starts to move towards the shore....
ZA1: takes 7-3+3= 6 stress hit. This takes it out.
ZA2:
ZA3:
ZB1:Duelling with monks
ZB2: Hits Min, takes 5-4+3-1= 3 stress hit.
ZB3:
Min: takes 2-1+6 = 7 stress hit. Major Consequence(broken shin) & 1 stress.
Lin: Takes 2 mental hit. (weapon:3 spell)
ZC1: Grapples Mrs Millier
ZC2:
ZC3:
ZD1:6-5+4-1 = 4 stress hit
ZD2:
ZD3:
"Yip!" Sal yips as the two rapidly-closing uglies try to take her down. Then she sees the first one's arm coming in an overhand swing like a clumsy knife fighter, and her mind clicks into gear as her body automatically goes on defense, honed by training and repetition.
"21 feet. That's what they tell you. You can only shoot if the opponent is 21 feet away." Her instructor snorted. "Maybe if you're an amateur. But you are professional soldiers and you will BY GOD learn to handle your firearms at close quarters!"
"He's coming at you with a knife and he's close. Roll and shoot. Make him change the direction of his momentum and put distance between yourself and that knife. Get your legs between the knife and your body."
Sal rolls onto her back and out of the path of the first guy's swing, bringing her pistol up to shoot him from ground-level - a potentially devastating shot through the body. But his distraction has worked, and the second guy plows into her where she lies on the ground, trying to pin her.
Ugh, teeth. Sal squirm fruitlessly away from his hold, then gets and arm clear. She switches her aim and tries to shoot the ugly who has managed to catch hold of her, grimacing at the thought of the mess the big pistol would make.
However as another charges forwards, the twins start to make some fluid arm movements. Min standing in front, her hands describing a Wing-Chun style defence - using the overwhelming bulk of the creature against it to deflect it's superior blows and drive it's punch into the earth taking a chunk out of the ground. Unfortunately the blow lands to close to her and there's a wet snap as of a twig when the massive sledgehammer fist clips her shin.
Whilst Lin's hands seem to glow with a soft Jade light, enveloping her fore-arm as perspiration forms on her brow - a soft incantation mutters from her lips. Then the jade 'fire' blazes out in a punch towards the creature.
"Cannot have you 'protecting' us... Lin says, before Min finishes her sentence her voice coming out ragged. "...all the time."
'Well. That IS new.' Danny's mind says calmly into the chaos.
What his BODY does in scream "MIN!" with no small amount of panic thrown in for good measure.
"That's it!" Danny growls, abandoning his attempt to carefully unpack his guitar.
Grabbing the case by the handle Danny stands, thumbs the quick-release switch, and bounces his arm once. The sides of the weather-beaten hard case pop off, revealing the guitar hanging by it's folded shoulder strap, which is attached to the handle. With practiced ease Danny slips the strap over his shoulder and settles the guitar into place in a single fluid motion. Danny had gotten the idea from a sci-fi/fantasy book series he was currently into. He didn't actually enjoy using the quick-release case, as re-combining the case halves back together again was a righteous pain. But his nerd/cool OCD had forced him to practice the move in the mirror until it was smooth and cool as any James Bond gadget reveal.
Danny's fingers brushed the controls, bringing the guitar to life.
Oh, did I say 'guitar'? I meant 'Frankentar. 2.0.'
After Danny's managing to fry almost all of the original Frankentar's cobbled -together circuits on his last little escapade, The self-contained electric guitar had gotten a complete overhaul. It was now a Steel-reinforced, Gibson Steel Electric Guitar with a modified Slash-Hendrix bridge/pickup combo, a Fender-Frontman mini-amp, and a set of full-range Behringer Ultracoustic speakers bolted to the front.
It looked like a cross between a Steampunk-Rocker's dream, and a Fairy-electrician's worst nightmare. On the front of the guitar was a white, oval sticker with bold, black letters.
'THIS SIDE KILLS MONSTERS'
The sticker had been placed there as a joke by the dwarf craftsman who had overhauled the poor battered Gibson. Danny had left it there because it was awesome.
In the blink of an eye, moving with speed that Danny normally tried to deny he had, the singer places himself in the space left between the fallen Min and the beast that knocked her back.
Danny stood, face to face with a face full of teeth. Sheer panic causing his adrenaline to spike, which did not help his concentration. Trying to dredge up a useful song from his vast encyclopedic brain, Danny wished for nothing more than a simple, strong brick wall between himself and the couple hundred pounds of furry, toothy fury standing far too close.
'Wall? That'll work.'
Danny's fingers yank at the guitar strings, causing a very loud burst of sound to emanate from the small instrument. This had the desired effect of causing the creature to actually look at something besides Danny. Danny's voice voice screamed out, 'loud and proud' as he had been taught.
"All in all there's just, another brick in the wall!
All in all there's just a, lot of bricks in that wall!"
Danny unabashedly mangled the lyrics, concentrating hard on the strongest brick wall he could think off, the walls of the castle above them on the hill. And the fanged menace found himself staring at an ancient stone wall instead of soft, fleshy humans.
"We don't need no mon-ster a-ttacks!
We don't need no horror show!
No demons in the light of day,
Monsters, leave them kids alone
Hey! Monsters! Leave them kids alone!
All in all it's just another brick in the wall
All in all you're just another brick in the wall"
Danny riffs the chorus, his fingers making the steel strings scream from the tiny speakers.
"Lin, Min, get to the carousel!" Danny hisses from between clenched teeth. He doesn't dare look to see if they move, or if they're alright. He stares straight into the faces of fangy death, willing the creatures to hear only his voice, and see what he wants them to see.
Kenneth follows Laura's gaze with a wince, "Ach, that cannae be good.... " He quickly glances about, then raises his arm, pulling back his fingers, drawing the fiery bow... then spinning to fire at the one rushing Sven, "Oi! Fomor! Ye arenae welcome on my Lady's isle!"
As the missile explodes against the target, he says to Laura, "Sorry, love, but I'm thinking this is a wee bit more my kind ay work than it be yours. Best get these folks safe while we deal with the beasties..."
Goldeneyes's got some explaining to do... Edwyn thinks with a grimace as his eyes dart around, appraising the ongoing chaos. Between the sounds of gunfire and Pink Floyd, he had no idea what the hell was going on. Clearly he didn't have much experience with heroics, otherwise he'd be doing something already. Who am I kidding? He never explains anything.
The detective's head snaps to attention, immediately picking up on the ugly grabbing for Mrs. Miller. Cursing his carelessness under his breath, Edwyn balls his hands into fists and closes the distance. There were many other damsels in distress in the crowd, but he just so happened to be paid to watch over this one. Well, "paid."
"Hey, freakshow!" he quips, before going for the sucker punch. He tries to slug the former viking, his technique looking more like that of a street thug than a real martial artist. Self-defense classes were on his laundry list of things to do before he, well, died.
Zone A - Carousel R2
NPC's / Aspects: Weird Carnie Carousel, Maypole
PC's: Sal
Twisting her body to try and get out of the grip, she just manages to free her hand enough to manoeuvre the gun to a more viable angle. The massive barrel chest of the thing, seems to be covered in a eel-like blubber and the smell that radiates is of fish that's laid upon a trawler bed best part of a day. Sal tries to jam the broad barrel of the Desert Eagle against his rin cage and squeezes the trigger repeated, the heavy recoil being nearly wrist snapping at his angle - however the urgency of the creatures hold dictates the in-caution.
Uncaring of what's happening to his friends at her hands, the final one smiles and swings his gnarled fist at her mid-section in a low arc.
Zone B - Beer Stalls R2
NPC's / Aspects: Min & Lin, Mead Monks
PC's: Danny
Min swears softly as she puts some weigh on the foot. However seeing that Danny is buying them escape, she chuckles softly and from a crouch jumps up. With her good leg Min kicks out at the monstrosity whilst increasing in height, giving Danny a nice view of the shapely limb. The foot connects with the creatures jaw, giving her enough momentum to perform a graceful backflip out of the combat.
Although the no-necked Viking swings a fist at the rising leg when she tumbles away.
When Min lands and grabs Lin, the more studious sister her soft chanting with a dancers gesture. A jade glow seems to surround Danny and the twins, starting to coagulate into a fancy Jade Armour.
Unfortunately the swinging fist of the creature, turns Mins backflip into more of an uncontrolled tumble and though she lands on her feet - she immediately collapses on the floor - which causes Lins' spell to fail.
Whereas the pair of monks still distract and confuse the lead creature, grabbing one of the tent poles and using it as a quarter staff - their flowing movements are not as graceful as Mins', but nearly as effective.
Then suddenly Danny is brought back to the present as the final thing charges headfirst at the wall in a concussion creating blow, reminiscent of the foolish Juggernaut from Danny's comics. As he charges at the musician like a dart.
Zone C - Picnic Area R2
NPC's / Aspects: Mr & Mrs Miller
PC's: Edwyn
The creature turns it's head, which due to the lack of neck, seems to be his whole shoulders & upper torso to look at Edwyn as his fist goes flying in.
Mrs Miller tries to grab the creatures fore-arm and digs her nails in with an attempt to draw blood and free enough space for her to breath.
The creature looks through it's cold black eyes at Edwyn, it kicks out a thick tree-trunk leg at him - casually, though with force enough to throw him back a few feet.
Whilst the second grabs Mr Miller, and the third stalks around the area.
Zone D - Artistic Entrance R2
NPC's / Aspects: Sven Olafsson, WPC Laura
PC's: Kenneth
Laura nearly blanches at the intensity of the attack, but at Kenneth's words she replies with more than a hint of sass; "My jobs conflict resolution, though it's best to make sure people are safe." She flicks her asp-baton out and gets to ordering people about, towards the road and away from any conflict.
The flames engulf the beastly fomor who looks down at his chest where the missile hit, the smell of charred fish wafts before Brigits cleansing fire eliminates the odour.
His friend grabs one of the benches and swings it at Kenneth, in a wide arc.
From the wreckage bursts the injured Fomor and charges at the sculptor trying to engage in a grapple, he just smiles and tries to manoeuvre himself to win the contest.
ZA2:
ZA3: 5-0+3 = 8 this takes it out.
ZB1:Duelling with monks
ZB2: Hits Min, takes 5-4+3-1= 3 stress hit.
ZB3:
Min: takes 2-1+6 = 7 stress hit. Major Consequence(broken shin) & 1 stress.
Lin: Takes 2 mental hit. (weapon:3 spell)
ZC1: Grapples Mrs Millier
ZC2:
ZC3:
ZD1:6-5+4-1 = 4 stress hit
ZD2: 6-4+3-1 = 3 stress
ZD3:
Edwyn poises himself, ready to take whatever the creature threw at him. He had this. Or at least, he thought he did. More of his inexperience shows as he botches an attempt to dodge to the side; for his trouble he catches a leg to his abdomen that, indeed, throws him back a few feet.
"Crap..." Edwyn mutters, just barely managing to land on his feet. He could swear that he heard something in him snap. Or pop. Or crack. Apparently, he was as much of a medical expert as he was a martial artist. Luckily for him, if there was one thing he was really good at, it was being a punching bag. Yeah. 'Luckily.'
Not to be deterred, Edwyn rushes right back into the fray with a wild punch, acutely aware that he was probably in for a real ass beating.
The *click click* of the empty gun prods Sal into the realization that the guy atop her has loosened his hold and is now limp. The descending fist goes into slow-mo as she reflexively grabs the corpse with one hand and, with an adrenaline-fueled heave, pulls it over her as a shield, heedless of the bloody mess it's making of her clothing. At least it feels like she's pulling the body over her. With the discrepancy in sizes, she's more pulling herself under it. Not that she cares - as long as it's between her and that fist.
As the corpse absorbs the powerful pummeling of its buddy with fleshy-sounding *smacks*, Sal snakes one hand into a pocket to grab a new clip, then squirms to drag the pistol into position to eject the empty and jam the full clip home. By the time the remaining Viking-thing pulls the dead meat aside to get to her, the Eagle is ready. Gripping the big pistol tight with both hands, Sal
brings the muzzle up and fires point-blank at the heap of ugly looming over her.