A Ghost Story Part 2
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Date: 03/03/2018 |
Near Dreaming - Chariot County Freehold Ruins Conventionally, one arrives at this place through the trod that leads to the Melpomene storeroom. From that entrance, one finds themselves standing at the base of a human-sized archway. The archway is shaped - not crudely, perhaps for they were lain by a skillful hand, but raggedly nonetheless - from shards of broken crystalline forms. Indeed, that material lays around here in great supply, littering a field of scrub and thin grasses as if some great blight struck this place, and only recently are beginning to reclaim the land. Larger chunks of stone, some with crystalline growths entirely covering the visible face, have been piled by someone a short distance away. The only other sign of artifice or purpose to this place, the thing that marks this place as a proper Freehold, is the balefire, a small flicker of Glamour's own flame. The balefire's basin is a rough-stone well with an organic, almost curvy style to it. It is hip-height on an average person, and seems to dive deep into the earth - possibly forever. From that bottomless pit, emerges the balefire, flickering skyward. It is here that artifice gives way to the endless possibilities of the Dreaming. Rather than a flat rim, the top of the well is crenelated, in a manner rather like iris petals, taller in the back, laid over in the front. The edges look a little sharp, retaining the crystalline nature of everything else around them. |
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Cast: Storyteller: | |
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As the runners approach, they find that their initial sense of the fellow (and while slightly androgynous in appearance, there is a distinctly refined masculine character about him) got the rough details right, but up close there's so much more. First of all, the fellow has an unearthly presence to him - both in the sense of his fair features and gently pointed ears that mark him a Sidhe, and also a pale blue aura that surrounds him and makes him feel... perhaps not entirely fully present. He weeps, openly, and the sight of such a creature moved to such despair has a palpable tug on the heartstrings of those who witness it. In his grief, he is doubled over, having surrendered all of what must have once been a splendorous vibrance to his despondence instead. He shambles as he moans, towards the freehold - a straight line for the balefire infact, dragging the hammer that he carries in his right hand in the dirt, leaving a line that goes off into the distance as far as the eye can see. In his other hand is loosely clutched a mason's chisel. Rayne slides herself under the mans arm and she turns to help him. "What is your name, friend?" she asks as she compelled to help finds herself along side the Sidhe. She dose not try to relieve him of his treasures or armor, her goal was to get the man to the freehold. The fellow, in addition to appearing insensate, has no mass, offers no resistance to Rayne's attempt to assist - not even enough resistance to be moved by her... where she tries to support him, she instead glides right through him as if he were naught but thin air. Mari continues to peer out, spying the lone figure, "The fuck is he crying about. Man up ya goblin licking crybaby." Welp, fear definitely isn't her thing and neither does caution seem to be either as she makes her way down the other side of the wall and starts walking after the others. She's not in any hurry to get there. Franklin hangs back, but he still gets close enough to see the situation, the man weeping. He moves to assist as well -- but sees how Rayne just slides through, and so hangs back, a furrow to his brow. "A ghost?" he asks. Jace appears beside Rayne now, still in panther form. She watches as the other helps, keeping a guarded eye on the insensate Sidhe and the world behind them. The panther is, it appears, ready for something to appear at any mment which will change what is occurring. There's no reason to fail to be prepared, after all. The cat stares int othe darkness as they return and paces silently. The cork leaves the bottle with a loud pop, shooting off into the pile of stones. Victoria laughs softly as the bubbles ooze out over her fingers. "Oh, this will be quite a thing," as her good mood is lowered by the wailing Sidhe coming toward them. Her lips press together. "Sir Eiluned! Come. Join us by the fire!" Whether the ephemeral sidhe hears the various calls, jeers, hails, or otherwise notices that Rayne has attempted to lend assistance is unclear. He begins to speak now, half-ranting, half-caterwauling; the pitch and volume of his speech meanders to and fro with no apparent focal point, and a goodly portion of it is decidedly not English. What does come out in English includes names, 'Piotr' ('sweet Piotr' frequently), and bitter curses that seem directed at invisible other parties rather than at any of the people specifically around him. His course towards the balefire remains unimpacted: slow and steady, dragging that hammer on the ground the whole way. Franklin's brow darkens further as the figure remains unimpeded. He draws away, walking slowly backwards with his claymore held in both hands, keeping himself between it and the balefire. "It's a chimera," he calls. "It's just /acting/ like a ghost." He glances just briefly over his shoulder, checking over those who've been in the city longer. "What happened to make the freehold detonate like it did?" Rayne falls through the ghost chimera and she staggers a little, she murmers the same thing over to Jace, "its a Chimera pretending to be a ghost, but... why?" she asks before she begins walking with the CHimera as she walks beside it now. Bella knows a little of gremayre, enough to conjecture. "Maybe it's trying to show us something. A message. It's heading to the balefire... maybe we should let it do that? Unless you think it'll harm it, but it's a chimera. It'd feed it, if anything, right?" Roland doesn't seem terribly concerned with a crying sidhe - in fact he's not really rushing to offer any sort of support, whatsoever, but Rayne falling THROUGH the man is enough to make him blink and actually speed up his step, because Something Isn't Right With That. The fact that he's heading for the balefire hasn't gone completely unnoticed, as Roland comes to a stop in what he predicts will be the 'ghost's path, and narrows his eyes, "Whatever it's doing, I /DON'T/ particularly want to allow it to get all the way to the godsdamned fire and find out. It can explain itself, or if it's not going to stop then there are ways to MAKE chimera stop." It sounds like he might be answering Bella, but he's busy staring AT the 'ghost' while he says it. Mari continues walking towards the strange ghost. Taking on the appearance of a Sidhe does not exactly endear it to her, "Or it could yanno fucking absorb it to gain power and remove the last bastion of this god forsaken city." her eyes narrow at the Chimera Ghost and she curses in Spanish. Her right hand drifts to the handle of one of her chimerical pistols, but she doesn't draw it yet. An Eiluned. Tied to balefire. A ghost? Well... Who else could it possibly be? As the being draws closer, Victoria moves to the front of the trolls still within the bit of protection provided by the wall. Her voice lifting, a hand rising, "Count Valerius! I am Lady Tegan Gwydneira ap Liam. I beg you, sir, stop, explain yourself, so that I may beg my retinue retreat!" Franklin shakes his head to Roland. "It's playing by ghost rules -- looping through the same thoughts, the same babble, over and over. It /can't/ explain itself." He readies his sword. "I'm with the pointy-eared one. Not worth the risk to the balefire." Why yes, Mari, nockers /do/ have pointy ears. You count. "Does anyone know what language that is?" Muttering, ranting, weeping, and babbling in tongues, the hunched over apparition makes its way - still heedless of Victoria's calls, or any of the discussion around it. It doesn't have /that/ far to shamble, however, before Victoria, and Roland behind her, who stand directly in his path, are right there before him. And there, he stops. Stops shambling. Stops ranting. Stops weeping. He doesn't... respond... precisely, so much as he seems to finally register the existence of something or someone else, and begins to raise himself up to a proper standing posture. The motion lifts the hammer off the ground, but those mason's tools remain at the fellow's side and though he stands with the proper airs of a Sidhe, he makes no threatening motion. "Oathbreaker," he mutters at Victoria, finally. "How fitting that you stand among the ranks of the unfaithful." It's contempt mixed with a grudging minimum of protocol, as only the Sidhe can master. Rayne walks closer, and then she smiles to Roland, moving behind him she smiles "can we force it to be a chimera again instead of a ghost." She looks between them all as she looks to those that have gathered closer. Bella considers this. "Well, we do outnumber it. You think I ought to make it go splat? I don't like being called an 'oathbreaker', when I'm pretty damn sure I've been doing just the opposite." Roland reaches into his chest pocket and carefully draws out a small square of flash paper, holding it pinched between finger and thumb, still staring at the ghost while he answers Franklin, "Then it won't be worried that I'm going to bathe it in primal fire if it doesn't STOP and..." Why yes, Roland IS being an unreasonably stubborn troll over the matter. Its like he risked his life to get the balefire here in the first place, or something! But then of course the thing responds, and while Roland doesn't really stand down at that development, in fact, it looks a lot like he won't be too worried about Victoria being in the path of his threatened chimerical flamethrowing move, since he's still holding on to a potential bunk, and adds in a low growl, "He calls me unfaithful again and I'll show him what we did to those assholes in New York." "Oi loco fantasma," Mari, has now drawn a pistol, "You can stop or you can do your best impression of a bloody sponge, your choice. But you aren't getting near that fire without a chat." Her expression is a deadly mask, quite literally with that grinning skull chimerical facepaint she wears. "Count Valerius," Victoria lets the insults roll off her. She's been called worse. "Please, tell us that you mean us, and our Freehold, no harm. We are working to rebuild the Glamour of Chariot County! We want only the best for the lands that were once yours. Please, let us help you. Tell us what you came to seek and we will do all we can to aide your quest." When its necessary, Vic can sound like a Sidhe. Even if her speech is normally littered with mortal lingo, well, code switching. Vic also spares a moment to shoot a glare behind her, over her shoulders. "Give me a minute here!" in a stage whisper. Ugh. Commoners! Franklin snarls at the ghost's insult, too, his glacier eyes ablaze as he raises his sword. But he keeps himself calm with deep breaths, He clears his throat. "Let's give it one more chance to start being /clear/. Unless you have some Arts to let us change it into anything other than 'a ghost that has been beaten to a bloodied pulp', Rayne?" He takes a few steps to the side, getting out of Roland's cross-fire, and arches a brow as he looks to Victoria. "If he doesn't start talking, Victoria, we /will/ do what's necessary to protect the balefire." Rayne shakes her head slightly as she frowns a bit "Sorry." says the storyteller as she peeks from around Roland who was now her meat shield. "I do not." The apparition mutters something foul in another language for a moment, "It is not /my/ house that has disgraced itself," he answers - addressing Victoria directly, though it's obvious from his body language that he's at least aware of, or responding to, Roland's presence as well. "The Right of Safe Haven extends to even your house. But mind where you stand. This place is not /your/ demesne. By right of conquest it belongs now to the assassin; and in the absence of her claim? To the /proper/ Count." Bella snorts, and addresses the 'ghost' directly. "You know, whatever you are, it'd be easier if you used names rather than implying assassins and whatever. Besides. I don't see any assassin, I don't see any Count, and we're here right now. Possession, nine-tenths, and so on." Roland /growls/ at the apparition's words, but seems at least for the moment to be giving Victoria the moment she's asking for, since the taunt didn't get him to immediately lash out, "Look, you spoiled little shit. We cut you down like chaff until Dayvd himself had to call a truce, and the only reason you didn't get massacred and pushed back through the breach was because you had an arsenal of toys. THAT playing field has been leveled, so Watch Your Fucking Mouth. I owe you no allegiance at all." Uh, Roland IS Seelie, right? Riiiight? The Dreaming has taken hold of this Eshu and reflects her in such a different light then her mortal appearance. She is covered in tattoos which are glowing ever so slightly, and is dressed in typical pirate style clothes. Billowing pantaloons and a puffy colorful shirt adorn her body. Over her head a colorful bandana, to hide her white hair. This slender Eshu is devoid of any dark coloration of her skin and is as pale as silver moonlight. Mari is notably not Seelie and when the apparition starts running its mouth it seems like she just might shoot him, but she doesn't, not yet, perhaps recognizing the value of letting the pointy ears pry information out of each other. For now she just rolls her eyes and glares. Mari pages: Mari is unfortunately smart enough to want to see if he has any information. Even if she'd just as soon shoot Vic, too >_> Victoria cannot help herself. She twists back, looking over... Well... All of them. Murder in her eyes. Jaw hanging open. Is this all they wanted? Vic's fingers are kept from balling into fists only by the same manicure that kept her from lifting rocks. Her attention turns back to the Count. "Please, forgive my companions. There is little left in County Chariot, and they seek only to defend what meager Glamour we have. But surely, you would do no harm to the last Freehold standing in your domain. Sit with me, and tell me of this assassin so that we might help restore the County's rightful rule? Perhaps while my companions return to their work?" Franklin has said his piece on getting the chimera speaking properly, and so he leaves the talk to Victoria. She can speak softly, and /he/ will carry the big sword. Though the way he looks at the ghost's neck, he may be sizing it for a guillotine. Vivia la revolucion, and all that. Sit? Apparently not, but the act of standing, imperiously, before Victoria and Roland (and really the rest of those gathered for that matter) doesn't seem to fatigue the apparition at all, either. So there he stands, and speaks as if making procolamations. "It is by the assassin's hand I am slain," he announces, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. To be fair, there is something of a definitional relationship there. "My house has avenged me, and her claim to the county lays shattered all around. My seat awaits me now - but do not insult me; my demense is large. The other five freeholds will need to know that I have returned to rule once more." Bella can return the murderous look Vic gives her just fine. "You aren't the only noble here, 'Lady Tegan', just 'cause I left my knight's sword at home for what I thought would be a day of simple labor. An' I had to work for mine. This thing isn't the Count, it's trickery. Learning what we can, sure, but now it's just putting on airs. I don't see why I oughtn't wring its neck." Roland shoots a daggerized look at Victoria when she apologizes for him, but he at least keeps his mouth shut, his attention refocusing back on the etherial sidhe. The bit of flash paper is still being brandished like a weapon, half over his head. Oh, there's certainly more he wants to say, from that look on his face, and he nods once at Bella's words, muttering, "Damned right." There is a loud crack as a single shot rings out from Mari's pistol, apparently fired into the air, "Hombre, you can take your shitty titles and fucking claims of dominion and stuff them up your fucking ass. Cut the crap or the next one isn't going into the air. Now tell us what happened with this assassin and how you died before I get bored and use you for target practice." The gunshot makes Victoria jump and tighten. She looks back at the Commoner kiths again. And she steps aside. "Fine. Fine. If all of you would like to attempt to attack this ghost, who just walked through our friend as if she did not exist, in defiance of the Escheat and the Right of Safe Haven he claims, for the crime of being momentarily rude to the Changelings threatening him... Well, who am I to stand in your way? Count Valerius? I beg, when you are finished, you come speak to me so that I can hear your story and help you to understand what has passed. "And the rest of you can suck a bucket of dicks." And Victoria begins back toward her camp chair. Franklin shakes his head. "First, the Right of Safe Haven is for changelings, for fae like us; not for chimerae wearing the faces of the dead and offering no proof of their identity. Second--" He steps around in front of the ghost, nicely within striking distance. "--you, /good sir/, have requested neither haven nor hospitality, but demanded them. This freehold is the only in this county, and it /is not yours/. You are no lord over us, and we are not your vassals. I owe you no fealty. We are /certainly/ under no obligation to let you beeline your way to our balefire. You are not the ruler here, but a shadow of a bygone time; a phantom that should leave this earthly realm and ascend to heaven. So I say to you:" He lowers his sword, the tip to the ground. One hand freed, he claps it three times to his wrist, while reciting: "Up, up, and away." And with the last word, he flicks his fingers towards the sky. Mari's gunshot, for all that it gets a jolt out of everyone else, doesn't even seem to /register/ for the apparition; it's as if he simply couldn't hear it at all. Franklin's monologue also goes completely unnoticed, until the second point - when he moves himself into the front of the fellow in Eiluned colors; THEN he registers, and a decidedly Sidhe-flavored rage begins seethe as Franklin rebukes the fellow. All of that buildup ultimately amounts to nothing, however, for when Franklin's magic is loosed, the apparition is suddenly lofted into the air. Rather than unceremoneously plummeting back down to the earth, however, as one would expect a real Sidhe to have done, the fellow becomes more and more diffuse, as if different parts of him were accelerated upwards at different speeds, and above them is a cloud of vapour now that ceases its expansion after a brief time, some thirty feet in the air. The same voice as the apparaition had spoken with before comes now from the cloud, pronouncing foreign words that none gathered understand. It appears, at least for the moment, to be just bluster. Only at the tail end, however, does the cloud say anything apparently coherent, "Strive then, fools. I will chisel my laughter into your headstones before you will see the sixth hour!" Whatever that means. Victoria sits in her camp chair, legs crossed. She claps. Clap. Clap. Clap. "Congratulations. You won. Hooray," she seethes. Bella shoots another glare. "Or we just saved a none-too-healthy balefire, in which case, yes, we DID win. That thing wasn't kithain and we owe it nothing, and it wasn't going out of its way to be reassuring. If the Count wants to claim his domain, he can do so in person. And if he's dead, someone's got to look after what remains. Or are you forgetting the *reason* the Escheat exists over technicalities?" Roland WAS growling, but then Franklin sends the apparition flying and thats enough for the troll to blink and look up to follow the spiritual corpse upward. The paper he was holding over his head is finally lowered and stuffed back into his pocket, and he slowly straightens up, pursing his lips while he works to get that anger back under control. Only a small grunt is echoed after Bella's words, followed by, "Bryn ap /Fiona/ was with us recovering the fire. Dead sidhe have no claim on it, regardless if that was really 'him' or not. /Fucking/ sidhe." Teeth are clenched as he turns to stalk towards his backpack. Mari's gaze follows the phantom count's tradjectory up into the air and watches her dispersal, "Don't think I've ever seen one do that before." her expression is curious even as invectives are hurled from the sky, "Maybe it's tied to the ground somehow." the comments are more to herself than anyone else, she seems to be pointedly ignoring Victoria, attention focused on the cloud. "Yes, because it sure sounds like he'll never come back ever again. This problem has been solved. Forever? Probably. And it definitely wasn't done in a way that angered the only potential source of information we may have had about what happened after the destruction of the Freehold. No. This is better. You're right," Victoria remains in her seat, up straight. Fingers tenting together in front of her. "That thing that knew details about what had happened after the Count's death, and a great deal of strange magic I've never seen before, could definitely not help us. At all. And now it's gone forever, and definitely doesn't view every Changeling in this Freehold as an enemy. "So, who wants to take first watch on this Freehold that we now have to sit in guard of? Trolls? I'm looking in your direction?" Roland kneels down at his pack and glances at the trolls and then Mari, "If one or more of you can hold up for about half an hour, I'll run home and grab my armor and blade and some supplies and come back and camp out, as long as someone relieves me in a day or so. I don't need to go loonier than I already am." Franklin tilts his head, watching how the phantom disperses. Well, that wasn't quite as expected, but it /does/ get it away from them. "Victoria, you offer that apparition far more estimation than it did anything to deserve. One: you say it had information? I heard nothing of value. An assassin it couldn't name, freeholds that no longer exist. Again, it offered no proof of its identity; it was just a chimera, acting out a role to which it had maybe half the script, and no real information. Oh, the Count was assassinated? Big news." As for taking watch on the freehold? He rises up to his full height. "As the sun and stars shine in the sky, I shall keep the balefire burning. As the earth turns, I shall hold this place as a fortress steady as any mountain. As the winds blow, the breath of my body shall be put to the safety of this balefire, for the good of all changelings." Beat. "In other words, yes, I will keep watch. Roland, go ahead and get your gear." Mari finally glances in Victoria's direction, "You talk a fucking lot without managing to say anything useful, let's get one thing straight there is no dominion here, not for pointy eared bastards and not for wandering chimera. It touches that fire and I will find a way to destroy it." she looks back at Roland, "Go on, I'll be here and apparently so will Frank. Good on you, Frank." "How did you learn the answer to all those things we don't know? What it was doing. Who it was. How it learned those things. What it know. And about a chimera that knows such strange magic! You must be very smart. Smart enough to know that the first thing you do to something your suspicious of is attack it," Victoria pushes herself from her chair. Mari doesn't get a vocalized answer. She just gets flipped off. "Enjoy your new chore. You've accomplished so much today. You have so much to be proud of. Solved so many problems and vanquished so many foes. As many as... Zero! And as few as negative one. There's beer in the cooler," Victoria walks out of the archway. Roland sighs and stays quiet at the exchange with Victoria, though he reshoulders his pack and offers a mock salute to Franklin and Mari, "I'll bring some good beer back in thanks. I'll hurry." And with that said, gives Victoria several moments before heading out after her, perhaps just so he doesn't have to run into her once outside. | |
