Jack, that's just a regular failure, but on the downside, the pair of howls... Well.
Jessica slowly turns towards the stairs, trembling, quivering. Slinking down the stairs are strange shadowy beings, taking the form of dogs; no, much bigger. Wolves. Red eyes and pitch black fur, the stereotypical nightmare. But they don't appear in the brush-stroke style the rest of the dream is in, these are sleek and somehow more real. Jessica screams, and turns to run, dragging your view away from them until the pair of you can get in.
Now would perhaps be a good time to review your Dream combat stats too. Hint hint.
-----
Frosty tugs slightly on Jack's shirt, trying to shake it off as an idle movement but poorly. He's worried now. "Jesus Jack. What if I don't say anything. There has to be some way to get rid of this stupid number! That guy you saved, was he gonna get the chop?"
Frosty breathes in deeply, and takes his hands back to himself. "F!~*, man. Calm. Everyone's got these. We're just sooner. Don't spread that news too far. People do crazy things on a timer. Changelings are just gonna be worse."
-----
Lady Yuki stands, and takes a step towards Morris. This turns a few eyes. "Lord Stern is a fine leader of the Winter court, and I would not say a word against him in this regard. No Winter could hold the power he gave them against him. However... I think, Margrave, you are aware of some of the issues plaguing this city."
Yuki looks up, collecting her thoughts as she counts on talons. "The murders. This new group. The problem with dreamers. The issues with the Goblin Markets too.
A smirk. "The appearance of these numbers.
"Lord Stern is a fine winter leader. But what we need here is a united effort from all of the lost. Stern has made too many enemies; he could not do this. It might look a power play but I have no intention of challenging the order at all. This group is for the benefit of all the Changelings, courted or courtless. We need allies and information. We need each other."
Yuki's sycophants break out into eerily synchronized clapping, as whispers and debates break out.
Jack's shirt gets another tug. "She might claim this to be for the benefit of all, but I wonder how Stern will see it." Frosty whispers.
For relevant rolls, the Intensity of the dream is 4.
In the Dream:
(Assuming you start dream riding, otherwise you'll appear in person.)
You find yourselves looking down on the form of Jessica Deans, which is unsurprising, as it is her dreams you are intruding on. But her artistic side has clearly influenced her here; everything you can see appears to have been painted, her hair a wavy mess of brown brushstrokes, her skin shifting and being repainted as she moves.
A violent red sun bathes everything in a shade of crimson; as she looks around your views are sketched before you. It is a house, but not a house. There is a table, and chairs, and walls, but there is no roof, and the floor is sand, stretching out endlessly with the walls to form the best upholstered desert you could imagine.
Jessica is out of breath, and her eyes flit about ceaselessly, on alert. From up the stairs which appear to lead nowhere comes a single howl, followed by another. The girl starts to run, but as she does the stairs move with her.
Obviously Jack can shift this environment with sufficient glamour expenditure. Though Jack can change it, accidentally or purposefully breaking the dream at this stage will not work; such an act racks Jessica in pain but does not end it.
@Terrence
As you sneak in to grab it Zachary turns to Lady Yuki, putting his hands by his side and stopping you for now, though he hasn't noticed your attempt. You can try again, but it's harder from here. [-2, but +1 from the crowd as before)
V gestures Amy over to the seat next to him, apparently eager for her thoughts before the meeting proper begins.
Morris doesn't spot any mouthless changelings, but his attempted exit attracts the attention of the most prominent guest.
"Going so soon, Margrave?" she warbles, watching him head out. "Don't mistake this for a petty power play. This is about the well-being of the entire city. We're all represented here. Maybe you might be safe on the outer reaches of the city, but are you just going to turn a blind eye on the rest of it? Thought you helped other Lost."
Frosty peers at the back of his hand, frowning, but he still can't see his number. "One day less, huh... your weird number things have it going on. God that's depressing."
The rogue presenter is silent for a few moments, before he clicks his fingers and grins. "Hold the f$%@ing phone, though! We have one day less as a result of actions we undertake as a result, right?" Without waiting for a response he plows on. "So then if we track exactly who we have told and then don't spread that news on then you'll be one step closer to the source, right? If the only permutation is that we've told people... assuming you ain't told nobody we know... then we can go from there, right?"
His words are fast, driven by a very real fear. Nobody likes having less time to live. That aside, it's an interesting point. What really affects the number changes is still an unknown.
Sorry for the silence on my part. I confess that when I get stuck in real life it takes me a while to remember the other bits while I scramble out.
So where I'm at now is one more week of exams before then, and only then, am I allowed to die.
If I can have your patience for a few more days (That said, I'll probably put some up tomorrow) I can move into a reasonable posting pattern then. If not, then I apologise for being a slow-ass dm.
Leon and Jusuf, once you've got yourselves into the dream I'll go on with ye. The hollows initially looks like more of the rooms downstairs, but outside the 'room' is a more traditional hedgespace. Jessica is in one of the beds in the room.
Zachary laughs nervously at Terrance, scratching the back of his hand with his scalpels. "Ah, I should have said. I don't really need one, I just kinda need glamour to fix people and that's it. Most people take me for an actual doctor, but thank you for your kind suggestions. Maybe an actual certificate would help...
He stands there awkwardly for a few moments, not really sure what to say after that. Terrence is left wondering exactly how he got an invite. It seems a very good question at this stage.
Frosty looks to Jake, stroking his icy chin for a moment. Your mostly dead friend sounds like he needs a few people to talk to. Or possibly another burial, I can't decide. Still. You a betting one, scales? I wonder, without the intervention of myself or my brother, how long it takes for Stern to find out about this meeting. I'll put a fifty on inside two days. How's that sound to you?
V begins to tell Amy he'll swap that story over a drink later when from a room at the rear finally emerges the expected lady for the throne. The winter courtiers immediately recognize her, but Morris now gets his first glimpse of Lady Yuki, the second most powerful Winter courtier in the city.
Her time in Arcadia has 'gifted' her with particular Avian like features, melded with her human face to create a bird lady one would expect to see more at a parade than in this bunker. Her mouth actual extends into a cruel, thin beak, and along her arms sprout large black feathers (and on her hand, the number 8.)Around her dance tiny snowflakes, rising and falling in a whirling dervish of frost.
She surveys the room with narrowed eyes, and finally sits (the unkind among you would say she roosts) atop the milkcrate throne.
"Thank you for attending on short notice." she says, her voice cracking between a melodious birdsong and a raven's screech. "I must consult with my dear Winterwillow for a moment, amuse yourselves for a minute if you will."
Zachary's attention is fixated upon the lady's entrance, and he excuses himself from the master thief. (Carelessly at that too. Wallet's right there.) V kisses Amy's hand again and goes to sit closer to Yuki, promising to talk later.
"I'm wearing a hood as well, how much of my clothing did you want me to take off?" V jokes, peeling one of his gloves off. "Truth be told I just enjoy the feeling of the leather against my hands. But yes, I would greatly enjoy drinks someday soon."
Frosty takes another look around the room. "I'm not a betting guy but that's what it looks like. She's called the other houses in to though, or at least reps from them. I don't think this is enough for an actual takeover. But there will be scheming." he whispers back to Jack. "But I reckon she wants Stern to find this one out. Too many unknowns involved. Like you. No offence."
V smiles, his teeth shining under the hood. "I don't normally do numbers on just a first letter basis, but for you my lady, I'll take it. Picking up a piece of paper from one of the crates he gives Amy his number, tucking it into his pocket. "I would not worry if you cannot fight. Summer is about resistance, yes, but not all physical. We need the intellectuals and debaters too. Knowledge is it's own power. I, my lady, am very fine at picking potentials,and you have a great deal of it.
V brushes Amy's hand once more, still warm even through his gloves. "Think it over though. Changing courts is tough. I used to be Winter too."
Morris picks out and names several members of the crowd. Ivy Winterwillow, Yuki's handmaiden is waiting expectantly. Charles L'argent, a middle class autumn sorceror, and Sidonis the Saracen, a winter hedge warden, are deep in conversation. Off in the corner sits Giles, one of the few historians in the city.
His contact starts to talk about how a Margrave has seen numbers on the back of his hand, but trails off once he gets to the name. He seems to have referred Morris to himself. Outside the group meeting yesterday there doesn't seem to be any clues on the numbers. On the other hand, he does mention how the Margraves are going to take a look in at the murders.
Terrence is able to spot and name Sidonis and Ivy, fellow courtiers he recognizes from Winter meetings.
"My name is Zachary." says the medic, scratching the back of his head before taking the proffered hand. You see a '2' on the back of his hand. His mien is mostly human, but he had a bald head and off putting tint of skin that reminds you of sterile hospital floors. A red cross seems etched into his forehead, and though he doesn't lift it, his left hand is some sort of medical nightmare. His fingers are scalpals and syringes, dripping some clear liquid onto the ground. "I'd say Doctor Zachary, but I can't get a degree. I know what I'm doing though, most of the time. Um."
You can use a second name whenever you please, Terrence. If he looks into it then you'll need Second Identity to back you up, but on face value he'll take Stephen.
Frosty shakes his head slowly, and gestures his head towards the milk crate throne. "I know who'll be on that piece, but other than that I don't know much. If I knew what was going on I wouldn't be here." he explains, looking moderately uncomfortable at the question. Information brokers have to get their information somewhere, Jack guesses.
Looking about the room he too can have a pretty good guess at who'll sit on the throne. Slightly more than half of the Winter Courtiers are known associates or flunkeys of Lady Yuki. Which would explain why the other courts are represented.
The summer man bows and takes Amy's hand, kissing it with his warm lips. "If you are A then to you I shall be V. Tell me, what sweet sorrow troubles you so? I cannot see any reason one so beauteous as yourself should be shrouded by winter's gloom. You would look divine with Summer's radiance about you!
This earns 'V' several daggers worth of gazes; recruiting from Winter in the middle of a winter base is bad form.
It wasn't a secure hollow until you mentioned it could be that. That's a much better idea than a locked door, come to think of it.
That is a mighty impressive failure there though. Jeeze.
'Jack's glance over the file spots a slight dust allergy, a deap seated arachnophobia, and a terrible, terrible diet common to uni students. After a moment's thought he can't think up any occult connections other; she just seems like a very plain uni student.
Leon recalls a conversation with his contact a week ago, he mentioned Jessica's name in the context of aspiring artists joining the community. So she's not emerged until very recently.
Greg drops a keychain into Leon's hands. "Let me know if you need a hand, if you're not back in six hours I'll send someone else in. Password to the hollow is same as always. (Make something up. He probably had you set the most recent password.)
Jusuf, I presume you do have some way of pulling Leon through into other people's dreams?
@ Terrence a slight of hand check is dex+ larceny, and seems to be the closest to what you want to do, I think.
"Um. Don't think so, not yet, no. My friend brought me in here and most of the others were already here. Someone important is out the back though. And the guy from the Radio is over there."
As the medic whispers away Terrence scouts the room for names. He picks up that four of these members are quite high in the Winter Court; the rest of them filter down through the ranks; it seems an even mix of all the ranks. None of them are intimately familiar, but if you wanted some names another moment's reflection would give them to you.
Amy's attention is diverted to the man just stepping in behind her. He's wearing a vivid green cloak and black gloves; hedgespun, you'd guess from the way it moves and hides his features. The man radiates heat; summer court.
From under the hood he eyes off Amy, then bows. "A comrade of the Lost who I don't recognize. Might I have the honour of your name, Lady...?
His voice is firm and measured, the steel tempered by fire.
The tomb of Richard Franklin lies in one of the city's many overgrown and ignored cemetaries. Whoever this man was has long since been lost, the only fact known is that he should have bought a better lock for his place of eternal rest.
To those in the Winter Court, this place bears all the markings of a winter hideout. Small daggers above the frame, a an angel raising a finger to her lips, and a few more subtle signs that indicate that perhaps this tomb was always meant to be empty.
Descending the dozen steps past the jimmied open door, suspicions are confirmed as this subterranean room turns out to be more akin to a bunker than a resting place. Thick concrete walls seep the warmth out of you; and littering the room are slab beds and wooden crates filled with who-knows what. Perfect for the Winter in hiding.
The main room is spacious, slightly bigger than a classroom and without the annoying kids. The middle of the room is empty; cleared away judging from the patches on the floor. What is there is two dozen milk crates, arranged in a tight circle. Most of these are occupied by other Winter Courtiers, with two or three other Changelings; even so Morris is clearly in the minority here. Their eyes all swivel to assess and judge the new-comers. Some knowledge or political rolls might tell you who these people are in return
Someone is bringing in a few more crates in from one of the siderooms. One of these is stacked on top of the crate opposite the entrance. This must be the 'throne' for the most important.
Familiar to all is Frosty, from the radio; but his brother isn't about. He waves Jack and Morris over; grinning like an idiot. "Just waiting for the last few to arrive!
One of the other guests, a Wizened Chirurgeon with a worrying array of scalpels at his belt, comes up behind Terrence and leans in. "Nobody here seems to be giving me a straight answer. What are we doing here?" Obviously a new guy at the Winter Court thing.
Yup, Coupnettle works fine as a tea. It's good for 2-3 days as well. As for your rolls...
Winter has always traditionally been the most secretive court, and with that comes a great deal of cliques, inner circles and cults which Winter members can find themselves drawn into. Their seperatist elements are thus even more pronounced when they do appear. For them to call a meeting in this way suggests overconfidence or even arrogance. But not being a Winter Courtier, you couldn't guess at their comparative power.
@ Jusuf, Leon
Jusuf spends the time in the office refreshing himself, and Leon eventually saunters in, not that anybody seems to care. Greg's office is familiar to both of you, he keeps it more for show than anything else; Jusuf can name by memory now which of the degrees on the wall are fake. (It's most of them)
After about twenty minutes Greg the Ogre swings the door open and steps in. His mask is that of a tall and muscular Maori, and he easily holds the prize of biggest medical professional that you know. His Mien reveals his stonebone heritage; dark grey skin and features that could quite literally have been chiseled. His smile is friendly, but reminds you of a cemetery; but he's not smiling today. On the back of his hand is the 8; same as nearly everyone else.
"Thanks for coming in today." he rumbles, taking turns to crush the hands of Jusuf and Leon. " I won't beat around the bush today. We've got an unusual case. Patients here normally have trouble sleeping, but this one hasn't woken for two days straight. I had one of the interns take a peek inside but he hasn't started talking again.
Greg walks over to his desk and pushes his set of Newton's balls moving, the click-clacking echoing through the room. "I'd like the pair of you to take a look. My gut's telling me two is better than one with this weird s$#!."
He hands the folder to Jusuf, who he figures might actually read it. Jessica Deans, a mortal, 24 and uni student. Upstairs in a private room. An artist; but normally suffers from a lack of sleep, not too much of it. No supernatural links by the look of her.
XP: Spending now is preferable, but it can wait. You can't however, save it until you need a skill to suddenly develop that ability.
Willpower: A full night's rest restores a point of willpower, so yes!
Health: I think only Jusuf was hurt. Lethal heals at a point every 2 days, iirc. Not aware of any base changeling abilities that change that. If Jusu f is worried about his health, medical attention (and more specifically a blood pack, blood transfusion) would restore those points much faster.
vis a vis dream contact (And other cool things such as that...)
I'm in the camp that you should only roll dice when there's a chance of failure, and that failure would actually mean something. If that makes sense. Rolls where drama demands, otherwise I assume some level of competence.
Eight days left. The first sight for many of you today is your gently pulsing hand, giving you that friendly reminder that today is not a good day to sleep in. Not that all of you are in familiar beds to sleep in. (Leon...)
By your preferred news collection method you all soon find out there was another murder last night. Two, in fact. Still in the north of the city. Jusuf recognizes one of the suburbs named as only a few blocks from one he went into last night, but the other is much further away. A police chief is on the radio talking about how concerned citizens should stay home and lock their doors at night. A caller asks how that will help when all the victims found have been murdered in their own homes. The chief doesn't have a good answer for that.
Radio Free Fae is trying to advocate for calm, in between also openly attempting to buy the names of several summer thugs the duo ran into last night for 'reasons best left unspecified'. They also take care to remind all fellow Winters of the meeting tonight.
Speaking of Winters, our sorrowful courtiers are challenged bright and early today. Amy receives a PM over the Winter forums, whilst Jack gets a knock on the door from another winter courtier he hadn't met yet. Both of these messages boil down this "Some of us feel that the Winter Court should be in a better place. Come meet us in the tomb of Richard Franklin. 10am. Bring a friend if you want."
(They couldn't find Terrence's house, thieves not well known for giving out home addresses. . Terrence could probably get in if Amy tells him about it, or he can meet up with REDKING if he prefers)
Leon has a very nice breakfast with his newfound ladyfriend, who seems eager to have him over again someday soon; maybe for coffee or something? There's a wicked glint in her eyes as she mentions the last part, but any further thoughts are cut short by your phone buzzing gently.
(This message goes to Jusuf too, but he presumably has less women to be distracted by)
Greg wrote:
To: 'Jack', Leon
u guys got a few come in to work plz pple 2 c u.
Greg's shorthand is painful, but he's the best texting ogre you know.
And for the gratification of all of you, 5 xp for yesterday's activities
Feel free to edit this as you see fit; I'll keep an eye on it but do minimal meddling with it.
I apologize to those of you who haven't had as much of an interactive day, Terrence and Amy especially. Setting the server up was time consuming, but unfortunately I couldn't time skip without any idea of what everyone else was going to do. I'll be working to draw everyone together on this day, and if nothing else it will certainly be more interesting for you.
@ Jusuf
Louis tilts his head at you, his mask fading off (And oddly, his accent back on) as he considers your words. "I sshall take your words into account when I disscuss this matter with my companions, Dream Walker. It would be most dangerous to undertake further actions in the city without some invesstigation into this matter."
FBI special agent Lizard rubs his eyes. "But be careful consorting with other ssuperatural forces. Their interests are not necessarily our own... they often clash. Still..." His hands dips to his pockets and he pulls out a card, flipping it over. After a moment there is an almost imperceptible shake of his head. "No, not yet. If you need me, ask around. We will not be hard to find." The card disappears back into his pocket.
Muttering something about having a few more murders to investigate, he turns to leave again.
@ Morris
You can't quite fill out glamour with just an hour to go, but with another hour you can. As you work away you occasionally see a few other Margraves passing by, though none of them have anything to say that you don't already know. All of them have 9's on their hands.
After the second hour you make an interesting discovery; a plant the Goblins commonly call Coupnettle. Bitter and minty, it can restore a Changeling's mental fortitude, and also makes for a great tea. You just get a single plant for now, but you get the feeling this is a good area to get more later if you looked a bit harder.
I think I'll call an end to 'today' tomorrow, and move the doom track, or whatever you'd like to call it forward one. Harvest rolls can be taken retroactively, but nothing more of importance will appear tonight. Jusuf I anticipate will be harvesting dreams; for tonight at least this is going to be hassle free.
So at the end of the first day, questions for all.
I'll be handing out some XP, how do you feel about RPing bonus xp for some? I can hand it out equally, or reward more with whatever bias I hold (I take cash!)
Secondly, how greatly do you want to be focused in a group? Leaving it as it is I'm not sure you'll ever get there :P There are some methods that could do some pushing, or you could work on it yourselves. Having the party split as such makes for confused thinkings and timings but I can work with it (and maybe get good at it, heaven forbid) if that's what you like. Thoughts on it?
Other than that, you've all done pretty well to avoid any combat in the first day. It's nice seeing everyone showing off their tricks.
What I'll be posting tomorrow:
Day 2: Cracks
News of the day
Events of the day
PC and NPC doom tracker
XP gains
I'll put up a google doc everyone can edit as an in character representation of the database Terrence and Amy have set up; feel free to put anything up there your character would like others to know. It could be a good way of sharing knowledge you otherwise wouldn't mention.
10/10 for snark. A few points less for sensibility, maybe...
Focusing on the mask costs a glamour point, and lasts for a minute. If you chose to do so...
The Changeling's Mask:
In his 'human' form, the Changeling is a sleek, cleanly shaven gentleman, a mop. His hair is black, well combed and probably oiled. The flak jacket is now readable, and on the front of it is another printed FBI, along with a ID that reports his name as "Louis Cypher". Amusing, but not original at all for a changeling.
The changeling's tongue slithers out in what you can only hope to be amusement. "I would not have minded some of the popcorn to come with this badge, I will admit. I might suggest that to some of the highers up.
He stands slowly, tapping the hilt of his sword. "The business of the Feds overlaps with otherworldly realms far more than they'd like to admit. There are enough of us around to ensure the right people investigate the right crimes. Though in this case, my presence here as a fed merely coincided with my other duties."
Stretching his arms out with a horrifying creaking of bones, he sets out through the front door. "I shall be off now. Pray neither of my duties puts you in my path." With a moment's thought, he adds one last tip. "Ah, and I believe once I leave the police will return inside of ten minutes. Best not to tarry.
A moment later and the stranger with a week left is gone.
@Morris
Morris disappears into the night, leaving the Summer thugs no chance of catching him. They're far too drunk to coordinate a proper search, so by the time the darkness wears off you're far away from them, and able to breathe (wheeze?) a little easier. In fact your entire trip home you can be confident nobody saw you. Nobody knows darkness like a darkling.
@Terrence, Amy REDKING can come by nearly any time with a few hours notice. Tonight's wearing on, but tomorrow morning is open. And no, you have to harvest emotions from humans. Sadly no really easy way out. But going for sorrow (as I presume you are...?) there's a casino, the wrong type of bar, and even a funeral parlour nearby. The funeral parlour is probably closed, but sorrow is easy to come by in this city. Maybe that's why Winters are in charge.
@ Jack
Driving around for ten minutes, neither of the twins can actually find Morris. Cars were not meant to go where he went, and that goes double for this almighty van. Eventually they give up, and offer to drop you wherever you'd please. In case they can't persuade you to leave soon enough Frosty says he'll interview you for the amusement of the listeners. Probably not the best for any Changeling hoping to move up.
As they drop you off they promise to look into the matter you've put before them. As they smile and joke, you see before your eyes the numbers on their hands writhe and shift, reforming into an '8'. No, not midnight; your own number has not yet gone down. But because of your words, they now have one day less.
Subterfuge + Wits:7d10 ⇒ (7, 3, 1, 2, 1, 8, 8) = 30 Two successes for a tie You can't get a read off him, but you can try again if you wish.
"I didn't usse any powers on them if that'sss what you're thinking. I asssssure you I persuaded them away through purely mortal means.
He holds up a badge labelled 'FBI special agent'. Thiss tendss to clear space when I need it.
@Morris, Jack
Morris, nobody here has any real rank within the summer court. These guys have a rank between 'goon' and 'minion', you suspect. Anyway, as to the rolls...
Grabbing the attention of the Summer courtiers, Morris tempts them to step outside and say that to his face, or something similar. It's not hard. Rather than fight where they drink they eagerly follow him out, leaving Jack to getaway with the terrible twins. By the simple expedient of jimmying open a window in the bathroom they get a quick getaway, and within a minute Jack finds himself in a large camper van, packed with radio equipment- well hidden by the twins.
Morris on the other hand tries to slip away into the darkness once he's outside.
"Where did that bastard go?" you hear, as they fan out in the world's drunkest search pattern. They don't find Morris, but their unusual patterns makes it more difficult to escape.
Choices, then. You can try to stealth past them, or ignore subtlety and sprint past them. Either way, your exceptional streetwise check will give you a noticeable advantage as you dart down the smaller alleyways few tread. Let's say a three dice bonus on your next check.
@ Leon
Ahem. <Scene censored>.
I'll leave this to your imagination. You'll wake up tomorrow morning next to your cute young thing, entirely satisfied. Take that as you will.
The man beneath the sheets quickly provides an insight into the human body that is far beyond what most people would deem proper. The man is- was, rather, in his late thirties, with a mop of blonde hair. He was wearing a business shirt, but no suit to speak of, you think you saw it on the back of the dining room chair.
His chest is mostly hidden by the sheet still, but you can see the beginnings of a long vertical cut down his left side, and a noticeable depression where his heart would be. The cut looks very neat, nearly surgical, but a few bruises and a cut on the forehead suggest there was a struggle beforehand.
"The burnt horssesshoe seemsss to be a strong indicator of the Gentry and their minions. The collection of the heart is alsso highly ssuspiciouss. I can think of few legitimate reassons to collect such items."
He pulls back a strand of hair at a time, each lock dripping wet. "I would pray otherwise, though. It would be poor newss for the city were it true."
@Jack
"Lord Jeremiah, hmm. Yeah, alright. Means somebody important thinks it's trouble at least. You've got my interest down."
"Ourinterests, my boy. We'll keep ears on the ground and radio
if we get anything else. If we remember. We're not too bad. Now, why don't you get your friend there, he gestures to Morris discretely, "And we'll try and slip out of this place without having our faces turned inside out."
@Leon Fine rolls there, hope your luck holds out for the rest of it! The first one will do fine for your harvest roll
The pain of the needle isn't overwhelming, but a low constant drilling, a steady rhythm of pulsing red. You murmur your polite responses, and default conversation answers (yeah, yeah, really, yeah), and you're so focused on harvesting the pain that it takes you a moment to realise that you've inked on nines. Nine after nine after nine in neat rows. Same as the number pulsing on his hand. You work it into the design quickly, disguising it well, but it leaves you a little shaken.
Jack lifts a finger for a drink and pulls a grim face.
"What can I tell you? We're all trying to work something out, I can tell you. People having their hearts cut out makes everybody a little nervous. A few things, I guess. It wasn't any professionals in town, and it doesn't seem to be any of those religious nutters who lurk anywhere. They all did a quick clean of shop to make sure it wasn't them, but doesn't seem to be.
He takes a sip, frowns, and takes a sip of yours in comparison. "Urgh. Anyway. They're all taking place north, right? None of them seem to be in well to do areas, and they're all pretty spread out. Best guess is some kind of cult collecting for god knows what dark purpose. Money says between 12 and 24 hours between they strike again. That's all I got for ya, kid.
@ Jusuf To clarify: The body is covered by a sheet, but the legs stick out. You at least presume it's a body. It's on the kitchen table. On the bench to the side of it sits the Lost, who is looking at it.
Taking great pains to ignore the man who is equally ignoring you, you make a thorough search of the place. You suspect from the roll of police tape, the sheet covering the body, and the fact it was marked as a crime scene on the map, that this crime was called in by the police, and that before any thorough investigation could be made this Lost walked in and made it otherwise, though you aren't sure how.
The victim was not expecting guests, you deduce, from the single setting at the dinner table. With no clear sign of breaking or entering throughout the rest of the scene, the victim either left their door unlocked (unlikely) or invited their murderer in, through guile, charm or familiarity.
Whatever the murder weapon was, they took it with them when they left. Without investigating the body you couldn't guess at that either.
Inside one of the many drawers you find a small collection of knick-knacks and junk. What you notice here is a single iron horseshoe. You notice it because it's still slightly warm to touch, and because apparently it at once stage burnt it's imprint on the bottom of the drawer.
Your silent friend at last opens his mouth in a hiss. "I sssusspect it was Loyalisstss. he says quietly.
@ Jef, Amy and Terrence (and Leon to a lesser extent)
You can start rolling for your glamour harvests now, describe in brief how you do it but otherwise for tonight assume no issues in getting it.
@ Morris
Claws man is a low down courtier. It's probably unkind to call him a 'nobody', but that's what he is. Like a worryingly large number of Summer's nobodies, he thinks that unrefined, undirected violence will get him noticed. It will, to be sure, but not for the right reasons. This guy will forever be a grunt. (streetwise). Unfortunately for him, he's in no position whatsoever to threaten you. Summer needs friends wherever possible, and while the lords and ladies of the Brim might not be inclined to take sides, those on the outside would not look highly upon Summer goons running amok on third parties. Especially those sworn from the court system entirely.
He looks you up and down, apparently coming to the conclusion he can't try and beat you without a good reason. "Current Queen, you prick. Just because the city doesn't recognize it doesn't mean she lacks power. Look, maybe you don't wanna take sides. Fine. Just stay out of the way when we work over those winter b#&~+es there. You keep on your side of the fence. Just stay out of the way." he grunts, before heading back to his table.
@Jack
Frosty and Snowflakes share a look.
Frosty speaks. "A source for that sort of information would be nice, you know. I mean survey, really? Got a bunch of Likert scales telling us how doomed we are hidden somewhere?"
Snowflakes cuts in. "It's just coming in from left field, is all. There is a lot of terrible goings-on that are... going on, but it seems a little vague to put onto air. Lots of panic for little fact.
"But," Frosty glares at Snowflakes as he resumes, "We won't brush your words aside. We've learnt long ago not to dismiss nearly anything. No, ah, we may not broadcast it, but we'll make sure the right people know. "
"And if it does become a problem, or you find out something solid, then we'll broadcast something. Substance, is what we need.
Frosty glances at the Summer posse. "That, and a subtle exit. I don't fancy a tangle with those clowns today."
@ Jusuf The bench is inside, by the kitchen. Not the centralised table, but a side bench with a sink.
Judging from the flak jacket he's wearing, and the sword belted at his waist, now dangling down loosely, you'd say that he's either well accustomed to violence, or a very good cosplayer. From the few scars, you're thinking the former. Across his chest, a sash with a cross on it, that looks like it was once part of a stained glass window.
His mantle reads faintly of spring, but you've seen it stronger on Leon this morning. He's with some sort of entitlement, but you're not sure you've heard of it.
Still no movements from him, no attempts to go for his sword. He's staring at the body, thinking.
@ Leon
You can get in touch with one easily enough. What sort of things are you asking about?
Jusuf saw the map on the table, marked out by Jeremiah. Whether you grabbed a copy or not is up to you, but you would have a good memory of where they are.
'Jack's paranoia rises by the moment as absolutely nothing happens. From next door the sound of classical music starts to wash over the streets, accompanied by some young maestro playing his own piano.
'Jack' goes to the door, to find that not only is it unlocked, but also slightly ajar. Against all better judgement he pushes it open and goes into the house. A narrow hallway, a dining room to the left, and a kitchen in front. The dining room is spotless, a place set for one; but on the table sits an unused roll of police tape. The kitchen is a different story. The linoleum floor is stained with blood, dried now. Cans, pots and cutlery is strewn about the place, not just on the floor, but over the various shelves and even stuck into the wall. Covered by a single black sheet bent over the kitchen table seems to be the body. Knowing how the victim died, Jack is relieved he can't see too much more. Around her head lies a halo of spoons, delicately placed end to end.
But these details ignore the biggest one. A changeling sits on a bench, tapping his feet against the table in time to the music. He reminds you of a snake, but his hair flows in a way you'd attribute to a water elemental. Up his arms are dark black scales, and his eyes are small, suspicious. As he takes a deep breath you can see not only a forked tongue, but long pointed teeth.
He makes no movement, but a quick glance lets you know he's seen you.
I'll wait a day or so here before I continue on with this, if Jack wants in.
After the events in this bar and Jusuf's discovery, it'll just about be a day, unless you really want to start a drunken brawl or what have you. Think about your harvesting of glamour. Leon for example, would head into work to harvest.
@ The bar
One of the Summers steps over to Morris, holding an old-time flagon is his talon. Except for those long black talons and pointed ears, he looks almost human. His mantle mustn't be very strong.
"You're not with that Winter a&+~~&#~, are you? [b] he drawls, signalling for another drink. "I can tell you're one of those guys from the edge of town, but let me give you a warning. Winter won't be in power forever. You should stay playing hide and seek on the edges and come join a real court." [/b]
Frosty and Snowflakes raised their drinks to the newcomer, and chuckled. "They're probably weighing up if they can give us a beating in the alleyway. We've been trying to keep quiet on it, but Summer has been getting very aggressive in the last few days. Nothing fatal, but they've been testing their weight, pushing poor changelings like us around."
This was from Frosty, as Snowflakes goes on.
"What's news with you anyway? Jack, right...? Anything juicy for us?
As you approach the next murder scene, you have to pull out your map and double-check that you're in the right place. There's no tape, no sirens, no sign of the police at all. A mailman is driving down the narrow street delivering letters, and spares the house where the murder apparently took place nothing more than a fleeting glance.
It's a small home, wall to wall with the house next door but with a hedged garden out the front. The wire gate is closed at the front, but it's the sort you can reach through and undo without any difficulties. One of the lights is on in one of the front rooms. But this is certainly what the map indicates is the right place.
For Jef
The goblin winces loudly as she receives her payment, but pushes over the amulet nonetheless. "Take care, fuzzy man. City not safe." she says in what could be the understatement of the century even in a normal week.
The ogre at the front frowns as he recieves the answer. "Darkness...? But that doesn't kill anything. Hmm. I will think that over. But that will be good for entrance fee. See you later, mistah."
Making your way out into the real world once more, you see it has turned into late afternoon. Your phone buzzes with a text from Amy and Terrence about their online creation. Where to next?
Associated with the radio free Fae doesn't normally get one into trouble with the higher ups, unless whatever you say is directly against them. Most changelings appreciate helpful news of any sort, and the pair have goodwill in pretty much every court.
In the corner of his eye Morris catches a glimpse of the summers doing something strange, there's a handshaking and a lifting of glasses, but with some degree of care there's a single note being passed around that table. As each Summer courtier reads it, they look firstly to the radio presenters, and then to the three of you seated at the bar. Their faces darken for a moment, literally in one case, but the quickly return to their heavy drinking. All three of you see them looking at you, only Morris sees the note.
@Amy/Terrence
The Winter meeting proper doesn't start until tomorrow evening, and the night after that is the entire freehold meeting. In other words, you have the evening to go explore, or possibly meet up with your own contacts outside.
REDKING offers to swing by your place later with a package if you want it, and is otherwise silent on the job.
Okay, ah, I have internet again. Sort of. It was supposed to be there the day we moved in but it was not even close. Moved into new house, and we've even got a roof on it!
I'll get back to the thread shortly. Thanks for your patience, guys.
The Goblin rubs her hands together eagerly in a universally understood symbol.
"This is the finest amulet. It glows brightly when in the presence of poison! But also bananas. Downside pretty bad. I sell it to you for a song." Being the Markets, she probably means this literally.
@Those in the Huskystrike bar
Morris recalls what he knows about the knighthood of utmost silence. They are winter folk who specialise in helping the Lost stay lost, hiding them away for none to find. Their mien makes them easy to find- their mouths are in one way or another invisible. They don't tend to play at politics either.
Some of them have passed through the freehold in your memory; three, to be precise. They do travel to other freeholds to conduct their work frequently, but the 'Quiet Marshal', the leader of the hub, is known to you. Diego Graves is the name he goes by. Rumours from another Margrave suggested at the time they kept to the Arcade Farmhouse Inn, a very discrete hotel located on the very outskirts of town. If they don't own that place, they were on very good terms wih the owners.
As for who the boss could be, it's somebody who has power, and doesn't want to be seen using it. It is a very typical plot for Winter courtiers, actually. Lord Stern does not want to be seen openly having to deal with problems, and this could be his way of dealing with it. Similarly lady Yuki acting on her own could be questionable. Although Isabelle Doucet, former Queen of Summer could have called it from the outside, to arrive and take credit for it later. On reflection, Changeling politics are quite Byzantine.
Lance pours the shots with consumate ease, then pulls a trio of beers, raising the last one to the newly entered Jake Marshall in question.
Jake for his part recognizes and is recognized by the pair of winters in the corner: Snowflakes and Frosty, the pair who run Radio Free Fae. Apparently captured by the same Keeper, Frosty's mien is a man made out of snow, white and soft to the touch. Snowflakes is made of ice, sharp and angular, cold. Why their names aren't switched is a matter of many drunken conversations.
They'd be good for info, sure, but is that worth having your ears chewed off?
On an unrelated note, Morris, Jack and Leon, please make perception checks at a difficulty of -2. (That is, two dice less in your pool)
The goblin bows her head briefly, making an unusual facial expression; you're not sure it translates well into human. Pushing forward a necklace, she looks around, making sure nobody else is looking.
"I am lowly vendor, but this is what I have been told. My understanding is that... how would you put it... like a smoker trying to get insurance. Much bigger risk for insurer, so higher price. Goblin Contract is like that. City was always risky. More risky now, I am guessing. But I not know why."
@Jusuf
The hedgegate stays open for nine seconds more before disappearing. While all good movies dictates there would be some special effects to this, it just simply stops being a gate, for now at least. You get the camera and snap a few shots, raising a few eyebrows from a couple passing by, but what do they know about supernatural gates? Very little, you hope.
Assuming you don't want the murder scene half a block up, the next closest one is about twenty minutes by bus eastwards, or possibly a short trip through the hedge. One of these paths is full of weird and horrific creatures, and the other is the Hedge.
@Amy and Terrence
The single winter forum you know of (Which masquerades as a scrapbooking club, albeit poorly) suggests that the meeting will involve a discussion about the rising Summer issues, and possibly deal with this new group coming to town- though exactly who they are remains a little vague.
As you posit over this bit of news however, Terrence gets an email. REDKING, an old contact of yours, wants to swing around and talk to you about a job offer.
Regular Wits/Composure, luckily enough. Ah, and kenning detects supernatural forces at work.
The gate itself seems to be the regular garden's iron fencing,now lined with vines. Inside it seems to be a long straight path, the thorns draped in close along actual hedges like barbed wire. Towards the end of the gravel road the path forks, spilling left and right.
Jusuf's perception picks up the faint sound of gravel moving on the left path, but whatever lies on that road is out of sight for now.
Winter hideouts aren't too commonly known at all. Most winters go to the meetings and work from there. Knowing someone's private hideout is rare. The Ratcave is the most permanent hideout, guarded zealously against the other courts. More prominent members tend to avoid it though, because while it's probably their most defensible place, it's also the only one most other courts know about. That said, there are more hideouts, if you had a way of asking others more in the know about the Winter Court.
Otherwise Huskystrike bar is a popular Lost hideout. (hint, hint)
Eliza shrugs again, and turns to leave. "Think nothing of it. It's good to know somebody has an eye out for me, at least. I'll see you round, Scales." Her immediate sorrow seems to have gone, though perhaps replaced by some sort of tension.
@Leon and Morris
You actually pay the sleep clinics. Patients are assessed to see if they do unusual things while they sleep, like temporarily halting their breathing. It works very well for Lost: You get money and dreams! But with your connection to Greg, you could get a place to stay easily.
The dent of the front of the car doesn't look too bad. For an old guy he didn't make much of a dent at all. Speaking of which, he's disappeared across the road and into a supermarket.
Huskystrike bar is a pretty quiet Changeling gathering place, open 24/7. There are enough hipsters who appear human that open display of changeling abilities isn't allowed, but 9/10 people in their are members of the Lost.
The barkeeper Lance gives you a nod as you enter, and you draw a few gazes from the lost who give the quick once-over your mien. There are a crowd of Summer folk gathered around one table drinking heavily. Some have been doing that since they fell out of power. There's a pair of winter guys in the corner, fiddling with a radio. Otherwise it's full of lone drinkers at this time of day.
@Amy and Terrence
With the last few keystrokes you put together your piece, and sit back to reflect on it. Even gloomy winters would have to admit it was a nice piece of work.
About a minute later you can see someone take a furtive poke at the security, some kid next door with too much time on his hands. Being little more than a script kiddie, he doesn't get far at all.
Other than that, you're all good! That didn't take nearly so long as you expected; you could probably get something else done today, if you fancy it. Or you could sit back and enjoy your wonderful food, and complain about how life is suffering.
@Jusuf
Can I have a perception roll from you please?
'Jack' sets to work searching, tapping doors and gateways, arches... anything that could be interpreted as an entrance. There seem to be one or two entrances to the Hedge from here, but judging from the amount of trash and grime around the entrances of both nobody's been here recently.
Almost by accident you find yourself turned around in what appears to be the courtyard to an apartment complex you'd walked through not five minutes ago. Off to the side was a fenced off garden, but where the gate was you can now see a glowing portal, a eclectic mix of sky visible within.
An active entrance. Someone passed through this door moments ago.
@Jef
The tent you choose belongs to a small female goblin, apparently quite new in the place judging from what paperwork she has on display. As a customer approaches she licks her lips nervously, and then, disturbingly, her eyelids.
"Oh, a bit of this, some of that. Love potions, lust potions, like potions. Orphans, fresh or recycled. A wide array of Goblin fruits. Hedge garments, hedge weapons,and cold iron.
Her tongue slithers out of her mouth, tasting the air. "But for you, my city friend... it will not be cheap. But cheapest you'll find, I bet."
Don't worry guys, haven't forgotten about you! At the moment we're moving house, which involves a) lots of work and b) Very little wifi. Sorry for all this slow posting. I'll be moved in come Saturday, so then I'll be able to get back to daily or something like that.
I'll sit down and write posts galore tomorrow, but just letting you know now.
@Terrence It hasn't come into play yet, so yeah, go ahead and change it now.
@Jusuf I know that Int + Investigation + Wyrd lets you find them from the inside. No idea how to spot a dormant one. Doesn't appear to be in the core. You could pop into the hedge to see if there are any gateways there, otherwise.
'Jack's bus trip takes him very, very close to the scene of one of the murders, the third one, apparently. Police tape is stick thick around the single flat in question, and the police seem eager to question everyone who stops to gape. Down a side alley you can see one of the policemen being violently ill. Whatever he saw inside must have greatly disturbed him.
@Morris/Leon
Harry is a local gang leader, not really notable for anything beyond that. Tends to do protection rackets.
The old guy pulls himself up on Leon's hand, brushing his jacket down. "Thank you sir, thank you kindly. If I had a reward I'd offer it freely, but I seem to have too many people being generous with their 'protection' to afford much at all. I'm somewhat deep in debt."
The guy looks pretty dirty, and smells terrible. But hey, he's got longer to live now. "Can... I go? Or do you want to pummel me as well?" His voice trembles slightly, as he edges towards the entrance you all came by.
@Jef.
The guard stares slack jawed for a few moments, scratching his head.
"Is it... one of those new pokemon? Wait, or one of those rare fish! Is it a mineral?"
After a few minutes of wild guesses,he steps aside, gesturing you in. "You can tell me the answer on the way out.I'll keep guessing until then." . Bending down to take his shoes off,he starts to count to fourteen. Rather than trying to process his mind-set, you head on in to the markets.
@Jack
Eliza looks deeply into your eyes, trying to spot the hidden joke, the hidden camera. Nothing. After a moment she sighs. "Nah, I'll take your word on it. You always did have a terrible problem with being too truthful. If you told me you had to chain me to my bed for my own good, I'd believe that too."
A moment later she coughs, and turns deep red as that thought catches up to her. "Ahh... well, you know what I mean. Right. So, three days, spend it all inside. Got it. Maybe you should come visit, keep me out of trouble?" she winks, finally pushing the bottle away and standing up.
"Anyway, if you want Yuki, she'll be at the Winter meeting tomorrow night. Not sure where she'll be before then, finding a Winter who doesn't want to be found ain't easy work."
She twirls around on the spot, and curtsies (badly). "Will that be all?" she asks teasingly.
@'Jack' I mean Jack 1 and Jack 2. Might be easier!
"A long lost relative? Certainly, I'll let Mr Willsworth know. I believe he's tied up at the moment. Stuck in his office listening to R.E.M. Nightswimming, I think is the song. Anyway, best of luck." The line clicks as Stella hangs up.
The buses headed north seem sparser than usual, but news of those murders had spread fast. Even in this city something that brutal scared people off. There have so far been seven of these murders, and the police have offered up no explanation. What would you like to investigate up north? You've got a good idea of where most of them were murdered, if you'd like to check out the crime scene, and there are a pair of hollows in the general area of most of the murders- one courtless, the other a summer branch.
@Leon (And all) You spend it to contribute to the dice pool, so technically you should spend it beforehand. But with the preview function as it is... Adding dice with glamour should be mentioned within the same post.
Contesting Fast TalkSilm:3d10 ⇒ (3, 1, 5) = 9 contesting fast talk Brute:2d10 ⇒ (8, 1) = 9 Composure is not high on either of these fellow's lists. Neither is empathy, strangely enough. Slim has some subterfuge though. For what little good it did him.
The brute tilts his head, his brain weighing up what sort of drugs this intruder must be on, and why he still sort of makes sense. Slim on the other hand is completely gone.
"Oh, not Larry. Harry, you must have met Harry. S*~~, didn't know you knew the guy. Didn't mean for this hob to smash up your screen. Right, uh... we'll head off. When you see Harry though, tell him that cut's from Beefcakes and Scarecrow, right?"
Beefcakes slung his bat over his shoulder, staring impassively at the guy on the ground. Scarecrow takes half a step forward, then gestures to Beefcakes, turning and heading off, his face one of utter confusion over what just happened.
As they disappear, the old guy clutches out against the wall and drags himself there, sitting heavily and panting. You can see the number of his hand flicker once. It stops pulsing, and has turned into a nine. Just like everyone else's.
@Jack
On the back of Eliza's hand is not a nine, but a much smaller number. Three.
"Lord Jeremiah, yeah I heard of him. He's an information broker between supernatural groups, I think. His info is pretty good, not sure how he gets it though. I'll tell you though, if he doesn't want you to know his client there's not good odds of you finding out. Although knowing it was him narrows it down. If I was a betting gal, and let me assure you I am, then I'd put money on Yuki. In fact, ten and a goblin fruit says it is. She casts a pretty wide net. "
@ Amy and Terrence Not too much I can do a this moment, it's basically an extended roll until you decide to stop or hit 10.
The pair of you make a good head-start on setting up your network, which will come in handy if/when Winter decides to nose around. 3 successes so far, and resisting the temptation of alcohol, you plunge onwards, falling deeper into code, confident that nothing bad is happening to those other lovely people you met before.
@Leon and Morris
You don't seem to see anything occult, but what you do see moments after you get out is another man bounding across the traffic, twirling a metal baseball bat in his hands like a cheerleader's baton. Dressed mostly in dark clothes with a bandana, he's probably a thug Chasing him down the alley, you see it was clearly some kind of trap, for the old man at least. At the end stands a much slimmer man, wearing a neat leather coat, and tapping a magazine into the butt of a pistol.
"When will people not fall for this one? Right, we've got a two for one deal, your money and your life." The slim one says firmly. The old man drops to his knees and covers his face, whimpering. His number has started pulsing faster, glowing brighter.
Wowzers, wasn't expecting that.
Both men turn their heads to look at Leon and Morris, sizing them up quickly. "Well. More." Slim remarks.
If you want to take hostile actions here, roll your initiative (1d10+dex+composure, as a total, not success/failure) Otherwise act on!
@Jef
The ogre nods grandly, apparently very easily appeased by your compliment. "I like you, little one. I'll give you a cheap entrance, then. Tell me a joke I have not heard before, and I will let you pass."
He hops from foot to foot, grinning madly. "And don't even try a knock knock joke, coz I know all of them already!" You get the feeling that satire, irony and sarcasm would be wasted on this guy.
In the background one of the tents catches fire. Nobody seems particularly concerned by it, least of all those inside the tent. The hobgoblin running it cackles. "That's right fine folks, Gentry and unicorns, we got some red hot merchandise today! Get it before it gets you!"
The act done, Jeremiah pulls out another business card, and writes down both an email address and a second phone number on it. He seems a little dizzy, but not terribly so. "These are my private details. Should you require any information on supernatural goings on, you may consider me a contact and reliable source of information. The blood was your payment. Any further substance will be traded for as you see fit." he says formally, cupping his hands together.
"In addition should you ever find it necessary, I can vouch for you and arrange meetings within the Kindred courts."
One last deep breath (Probably showing off, you're not sure he needs to breathe) and he turns to his door. "Right, settled. I'm well overdue to sleep. If I don't answer, try the printed number on the card. That'll get you my ghoul." Unbuttoning his collar, he swings open his heavy metal door and disappears, slamming it shut behind him.
@Jack Numbers might be in order
Eliza coughs deeply and pulls a glass across to her, pouring from the bottle. The liquid within doesn't look like liquid, but more of a self-contained light source. Hyper-alcoholic would be the other description.
"What next?" Well, lemme tell you, if you ever face down your own fetch, A swig, and a beat. "F!&~ing walk away. I just... jumped on top of myself and stabbed myself. A dozen times, maybe more. What's my partner gonna think? She's not taking me back. But fake me was here too long either way. Killing myself just makes everything worse." Her burnt leaves seems to fade, forming a shroud down her back.
With a slow deliberate motion she downs her glass, and pours another. "That said. Other weirdos, huh. Well, I don't know much about your fancy winter court, but Wulfharth hangs around with that Mage, right? Yuki or Archambault would be my other guesses,they've got contacts all over. Even with us Autumns. Autumn wise, Sammy or Javy would be the ones in the know."
Her brow furrows as something passing for political sense kicks in. "But what do you need it for, scales? Been seeing boogey men?" her voice is teasing, if a little rough. The Lost all know what it's like to see what isn't real.
@ Amy Ten altogether will serve as a good start, though you can add to it later. Each Roll you make will take about two hours, and you're at 11am now, so feel free to see as you go.
EDIT: And apologies for that slow weekend. Work hours are all over at the moment, I'll try and let you know when slow posting is ahead.
The Grande Ballroom is completely run down, a symbol of what was once great about Detroit turned into so much abandoned building porn, as it were. One of the side rooms upstairs leads into hollow, which like so many other Detroit hollows is a replica of the building it once was. There are about a dozen changelings here, most of them slowly dancing to a classical piece playing from a record player on top of the main stage. To the side is a small bar, an ancient Wizened slowly pouring out glasses of champagne for everyone.
As Jack Marshall enters, everyone spares him at least a glance. One woman gets off her bar stool and steps over to him, or swaggers drunkenly, more accurately. You recognise her as Eliza Sparks, an Autumn Fire Elemental. Burnt leaves slowly flake off her body and fall down, the rest of her a fast burning forest fire given ample female form.
"Jack Marshall, it's been too long, padre! Come, sit, drink, toast. I killed my f&~&ing fetch yesterday. Rather celebrate than... uh... spit in the darkness." She takes a hearty swig from what appears to be a bottle of actual moonshine. You don't need to use any of your winter powers to tell she's trying hard to hide a deep sorrow here. "What's up? Big scaley man like you didn't come here to dance, I'll bet."
----
@Jef The Ogre lifts his hand up, reading some words scrawled on the back of his hand.
"In or-duh to better pro-tech our custom... cust... shoppers and to cover rising fees, we are intro-ducking a an entrance fee. This will also help us ex- grow bigger and stuff.
He shrugs. "I just paid to get fee and remove those who don't pay." he says with a tint of simple satisfaction.
Terrence and Amy enjoy a relatively quiet trip home, which is bizarre all in itself. The Radio Free Fae seems to be on a loop every 15 minutes or so for a while, so you can both listen to that and talk about how depressing life is or whatever it is Winters do in their spare time. Setting up the cloud system seems pretty easy: I mean other people can do it, so how hard can it be? But do take an intelligence + Computers check, assisting one another if you need to. Better check how good the security is, making sure the password isn't set to 'password' Details on what you're setting up and how it works would be nice too!
Leon and Morris's car trip is slightly less depressing, despite containing what appears to be a member of the undead. But your trip to the nearest changeling bar is quite interrupted when an old man leaps across the road, just as the lights change. You slam on the breaks, but he is bowled across your windscreen. You both start to act, but he pushes himself up and keeps running across the road, going down the alleyways just visible. Nothing too serious, but on the back of his hand you see the number. '0', his proclaims. It is red, and pulses gently.
Do you want to investigate, or drive on?
Our hunter Jef makes his way to the Markets, after a brief moment of respite at his home. The Markets this week are located in the most white, elite part of town, but they still seem quite mixed, ethnically and changeling wise. Well, sort of located there. It seems to have it's own hollow, but even mortals could stumble into this one by accident. Stepping past a suprisingly well oiled door into a disused lavatory, (located in one of the newest supermarkets in the city), Jef enters the Goblin market, this week carrying an Eastern theme. Wooden frames support cloth tents, the scent of spice heavy in the air. Some goblin has evengone so far as to create a light layering of sand on the ground, in this large circular hollow. But there are far fewer customers than you'd expect.
An ogre steps over, his size betraying him. "Your entrance fee?" he asks brusquely. Odd. There has never been an entrance fee to pay here.
Marshall yours is coming soon, apologies. And Jack's, once he's decided what to do next.
Lord Jeremiah waited before being incredibly overt about the whole vampire thing. 'Jack' is the only one who'll be able to draw that conclusion so far, I think.
"You have my oath upon my name." Jeremiah intones, pulling Jack's head back, staring at this neck
Sniffing deeply, Jeremiah leans in. 'Jack' feels a sharp pang of pain, which recedes quickly with an unusual feeling, mildly euphoric. The sound really shouldn't remind him of someone sucking out of a straw. Jeremiah hums appreciatively, taking a closer grip on the chair. A few moments later (Moments? Minutes? Hard to say) he pulls back, licking along Jack's neck and taking with his tongue all evidence of his passing.
"Woah... I had forgotten how potent this stuff was. The vampire reeled around for a few moments, rubbing his eyes. "I don't taste changeling nearly so much as I'd like... anyway.
He flings himself down onto the nearest chair, mostly getting all his limbs onto it. "Let me tell you something...
'Jack' takes two points of lethal damage from Jeremiah's feeding. In return though, he may choose between either 3xp or taking Lord Jeremiah as a 2 dot contact. Your choice.
Aaand I'm being rushed out. Will get the rest of posted and doing things asap.
@Jack How would you be getting there? Winter changelings are tricky to find at the best of times. There are a few hollows in the hedge that serve as meeting places, though how populated they will be varies. Otherwise the Grande Ballroom is an old Winter haunt.
@ Everyone else if you could confirm your locations and intended actions in the discussion thread I'll start you along your paths.
"Don't be so thin skinned. All our individual cultures enjoy nothing more than poking fun at the others. If you want to insult me, you a free to try..." Again with that sly smile. "Still... I will owe you for this offering. In private, I think might be best.
Once the others have stepped out, Jeremiah sits 'Jack' down, and stands behind him, breathing in deeply. "Changelings taste quite wonderful, I assure you. Freely offered gives it a fruity scent as well, one to savour and enjoy... and you might have guessed by now that staying up this late is more than a little taxing on me. Hmmhmm, yes, I will enjoy this."
He catches Jack's eye and coughs guiltily. "But within the bounds of moderation, of course. Are you ready?"
"You lot are so boring. Can't you just stick by the intent, just for once?" Jeremiah frowned, considering how to phrase it.
"Corporeal, physical essence. Replenishable. Would be lethal is removed in large amounts. I will not remove anywhere near that amount. Slight dizziness, and very short term light headedness is the worst you could experience. In return I will offer you information, which I expect will be of great use to you. It may aid you in developing your skills, or elsewhere. Personal benefit only, I'm afaid.
