Whispers has a weirder-than-average patrol...
1/22/98
Limbo pages all: Well, let's see, how to start this. Um, you're in the Umbra. :} Advance warning that my imaging of the Umbra may not jibe with other people's imaging. And all that.
Dylan pages all: That works for me. I'll undoubtedly like it better and get frustrated with everyone else's, again. :)
Limbo pages all: Limbo makes rude, skeptical noises. :}
@doing They do not so much fly as plummet
Set.
Sepdet is on her hands and knees with her head down at the foot of a sleeping fir, sniffing intently at its roots.
Dylan comes and crouches down at Sepdet's side, curious to see what she has found.
Shows-the-Way moves through the wider forest, prowling for strange scents between the spirits.
A point of light moves in the distance, then it looks like a ribbon, then a point again.
Sepdet sits up and brushes her scraggly braids out of her eyes. ~I can never tell whether the soil has walked here from somewhere else, or this tree-spirit has. It feels more like the shallow-rooted ones that climb on the mountains east of here. Heya, packmate.~
~Heya,~ Dylan says, considering the roots. ~I do not have your sense of location, I fear. I can only tell that it seems content here.~
Pack> Dylan lets Paul notice first, since he wasn't staring at the ground. :)
Pack> Sepdet says "Exactly. ;)"
Shows-the-Way lets out a smothered yelp, carrying more on the breeze than across the double handfull of feet. ~ribbonlight?~
Sepdet blinks in consternation at the yip, but pushes herself to her feet with the (somewhat chewed) walking stick and casts about with eyes, ears, and nose, squinting in the third of a moon's trickier light. ~Enh? What's up?~
A glimmer is all that catches the eye at first, a shimmering light in the distance. It closes at a brisk walking pace, this slow-spinning, silvered pearl lit from within by flickering light.
Dylan, too, stands up, casting around until he sees the dollop of light. ~Fascinating,~ he murmurs.
Sepdet takes several seconds to spot what Paul's noticed, but when she does, she starts striding to intercept--not too hurriedly, and not too agressively, just aiming to set her body generally between it and the direction of the caern. ~Luna's dropping seeds?~ she muses doubtfully.
Shows-the-Way closes with the pack unerringly, the lion's share of his attention on the approaching nacreous spirit (seed?).
As it passes a flittering bird spirit, the sparrow squawks, startled, and is pulled toward the sphere, shrinking and distorting cartoonishly. It vanishes against the side. The rotation brings into view a gaping wound in the side, edges pulsating and oozing wan chartreuse light and a thin keening. The hole itself reveals a pure, clean, golden light from within.
Shows-the-Way skids almost comically to a stop. ~Ware!~
Sepdet's eyes widen, but she doesn't change course. ~Aiya.~ Without too much hope of getting a response, she barks a quick staccato series of variations on "Stop!" in spirit-tongue.
Dylan glances back once at Shows-the-Way, but continues with Sepdet, eyes wide and startled by the hole in the darkness.
Tiny sparks of varicolored lights dart in and out of the wall of the sphere, passing through without problem. A few, like the sparrow-spirit, are caught by the moaning gash in the side.
As the sphere approaches, a sense of its possession of immense size and timelessness grows. It has a mass that is beyond the perspective of this particular realm, a finite infinity caught in a shape that appears to be but three or four feet in diameter.
Shows-the-Way sidles closer, eyes on the approaching split infinity.
Dylan takes a breath and lets it out in silent awe.
Sepdet curses softly and precisely, glancing sidelong at her packmates. ~Anchorhead ripped loose...probably not alive? But let's see.~ With a grimace at the keening noise, she tries to imitate the sound as close as she can, watching the glowing bubble-thing for any sign of a response. Her own wonder is rather more tempered by anxiety.
Shows-the-Way lets his jaw drop a little. THAT is an Anchorhead?
Wayfinder joins the rear of the group, ears pricked forward, in complete curiosity.
Pack> Shows-the-Way bets: Wounded universe. :)
Pack> Sepdet glances around to make sure a gigantic cat with "Orion" on its collar doesn't show up. :)
Pack> Shows-the-Way says "So long as we don't win a Bug."
Pack> Dylan says "Should I know what an Anchorhead is?"
Pack> Sepdet says "I -think- so. It's a jumping-off point from the near umbra to the deep umbra, sort of like the gate to a horizon realm."
Pack> Shows-the-Way looks glad he's GOT his gift. "We won't get lost, no matter WHERE we go."
Pack> Shows-the-Way says "If we go."
The rotating sphere continues to move forward without reaction to Sepdet or its surroundings, though the gaping laceration affords a glimpse of a single, distant, slender spire topped with the source of light, a steady warmth that lights all space around it, except for a peculiar shadow low down along the tower.
~That,~ Dylan says softly, ~Is not like any part of the Deep Umbra I have heard about. Unless what we see from outside and what we would find inside differ a great deal.~ He does not say so, but there is a faint yearning in his voice. It is quite clear that he would like to get a closer - much closer - look.
Shows-the-Way shifts his feet a little. This one HAS had the urge to travel of late. But also thinks this gateway is flawed. Or did the sparrow get sucked through?
Sepdet shakes her head uncertainly at Paul's question. ~Not sure. Only visted a few. It's a gate, though...look!~ She points with her staff. Then she looks from the end of her stick, back to the swirling surface. ~I can't tell, Paul, but I don't want it "vacuuming" the caern.~ Choking up on her staff and balancing it in her cupped hand, she starts edging the tip towards the sphere, very stlowly.
Shows-the-Way shifts, flowing past the warform to one very near his birthform, and squats to pick up a rock.
Dylan nods to Seshemw. ~Hope, let him try something thrown, first.~
Wayfinder focuses her attention on the phenomenon, remaining silent for the moment.
Paul bounces the rock in his palm and says, "Someone see if they can pitch something through the open side, or what."
The staff tip is seized as if by a powerful magnet and is pulled toward the gap with an impatient, persuasive tugging.
Dylan catches Sepdet's shoulder instinctively, though Dylan must know she will let go.
Sepdet was, indeed, letting the stick rest on her open hand for precisely that reason, so she wouldn't get pulled in. At the first tug it will fall out of her loose grip.
Pack> Paul says "Hah. Just like she let go with the fish on the end of her stick."
Pack> Paul is glad to be wrong, if surprised. :)
Pack> Sepdet says "Drat. I was going to pull the stick back and let you try the rock, only I didn't pose quick enough. Oh well, Sep's reflexes are slow nowadays. :)"
The staff slithers from her hand like a live thing and, shrinking impossibly, it pops through the hole in the side of the sphere.
Dylan gazes at the sphere. *Hello?* he whispers.
Sepdet stares into the glowing depths half-mesmerized, although she retreats to keep her distance. ~I don't want to hurt it, if I can help it,~ she whispers. ~The bird seemed to tear it somehow.~
Paul says, ~Else, the bird merely fell through the hole already there. Aren't you supposed to have to DO something to pass an Anchor safely?~
Dylan says, ~Or maybe it was already torn, and that is why it took the bird? Perhaps...it needs healing, to stop it from...vacuuming.~
Paul tries lobbing the first rock to NOT match the opening, watching carefully.
Wayfinder trots up next to Dylan, and notes that this thing is pure, but it grows less pure. Something invades it...She tilts her head, examining it closely with her limited wolf vision.
You paged Limbo with 'By the way, if the GM is stuck and _needs_ us to get sucked in, Sepdet does have spinal damage so that her left leg, on occasion, may simply buckle. ;)'.
Sepdet gives a startled cry as the rock flies from Paul's hand, instinctively bracing.
The rock bounces off the outside like off a rubber ball.
Limbo pages: Thank you, sweetie. ;)
Sepdet's bracing backfires, and her leg folds, throwing her balance off. In compensating, she totters toward the approaching sphere and, like her staff before her, shrinks, stretches, and vanishes through the hole.
Paul barks, "God DAMN it!"
Dylan lunges forward without a second's hesitation.
Wayfinder bounds forwards, leaping after Sepdet.
Limbo pages: By the way, this whole process causes no damage or pain, particuarly, but is an extraordinarily odd sensation.
Paul waits, eyeing the sphere, and the opening, for signs of his vanished friends. Even as he scratches quickmade glyphs in the ground. And Marks them so no one will miss the warning.
Dylan and Wayfinder both disappear similarly.
Dylan pages to Paul, Limbo, Sepdet, and Wayfinder: I'm so glad you're in the pack, Paul.
There is no pain, no harm, simply a streeeeeeeetching sensation and then Sepdet, Wayfinder, and Dylan are falling through blue, star-studded skies toward the previously-glimpsed spire.
Paul eyes the sphere a moment longer, then takes a few steps along its ongoing course. Sighting and using his Gift for places and directions to 'feel' if anything Important is due to be run over.
Nothing important is apparently in the path, which is slowly angling in the direction of open country.
Paul takes a deep breath, turns to face the sphere, and time the turn. "What's the worst that will happen? A bounce or two." Deep breath. Two. Three. Leap!
And Paul experiences the same strange alteration of perceptions.
Wayfinder crunches into a little ball, squeezing her eyes tightly shut, and looses a very unwolf-like wail, as she falls.
As you approach, you can see clearly that the spire is bisected, the lower half terminating in a diamond point that glitters in the ambient light. The divider is a broad, shining, octagonal plane that rotates slowly with the outlying sphere of the world. Nearer still, the plane breaks up from its mirror-like appearance into a land of verdant fields and emerald forests, red rock mountains and azure lakes. At the center rises a slim tower that supports the brilliant sun.
Well, that is, the people who have their eyes open.
Paul falls, falls falls. Arms and legs out-stretched, eyes watching what's falling up at him to squash him like a grape.
Paul grumbles, wind snatching the words from his lips, "No one's ever told me if falling from orbit can be healed from."
Pack> Wayfinder notes that Wayf is as afraid of 'flying' as Sep used to be of swimming.
Dylan's hands reach toward the tower. ~If we live,~ he promises Paul, and he doesn't sound disturbed by having it in qustion.
Sepdet spreads herself out as best she can, reflecting on owl's borrowed gift and her lack of wings on this particular night. She takes it all in wide-eyed, just riding the air and pretending it's a wind she knows.
Your path is nudged from edge to edge, momentum destroyed or at least reduced, with roars that shake your bones, shudder your lungs, and nearly split your eardrums from inside your heads. You move against the rotation of the land until at last, you meet an edge where you hear no roar, and you fall toward it. You land ungently in a thatch of tall, soft grass.
Pack> Sepdet has played too much Riven, aiiie. I hope there's a linking book down there. :)
Pack> Dylan says "Therru's gloating..."
Pack> Paul says "At the bottom of the broken World's well."
Pack> Dylan says "...even though she denies it.... :)"
Paul lands hard, bouncing then rolling to the side until the grass finally holds him still.
Dylan manages to tuck a little, and hits the ground with what would have been a kiai if he hadn't simultaneously had all the air knocked out of him by the impact itself. He lies on the grass on his back, gaping.
Wayfinder does a lupine somersault as she lands, rolling end over end to finish sprawled with limbs akimbo. She keeps her eyes shut, just concentrating on breathing for the moment, and assessing if most parts of her body are still intact.
Sepdet crashes ungracefully, the sound disorienting her so that when she strikes she lies flopped and dazed with unkempt gray cloak around her like a tuft of stray milkweed fetched up against a bank. After a moment she makes a soft querying noise in the back of her throat.
Kid has arrived.
l
Ishikor(#3527RJ)
The umbra here stretches with dusty roads and narrow paths, stars and the wan light of the thinning moon shedding a radiance on the Umbrascape.
Contents:
Kid
Wayfinder
Dylan
Paul
Limbo
l kid
Skinny limbs, a wild mop of black hair, and large, dark eyes are the only details that catch the eye on this bundle of energy masquerading as an immature human being. Narrow brown hands and feet emerge from a tangle of robes that appear to have been sewn out of Star Wars-themed bedsheets. A belt made from a knotted jump rope (with oddly, a flashlight dangling from it) and the remains of a green piece of twine in the exuberant cloud of hair complete the ensemble. This child moves like a hummingbird, all interest and distraction, and almost a quietly, except when asking questions.
Paul rolls onto his back, letting things settle and move on their own until he THINKS he's whole again. Testing voice and ears he tries weakly, "Anyone catch the name of the dragon that bellowed in my ear?"
Behind the new arrivals, a small voice calls out, "Halt in the name of the Empire!" The tiny figure has, ludicrously, a large white bucket on its head, but is training a disturbingly real-looking weapon on the group.
Paul sits up creakily, looking quite a bit smaller and less threatening somehow. "I don't think we're going anywhere."
Dylan lifts his head and no more as he sees the incongruous threa. Mildly,perhaps little punch-drunk, he responds. ~I think,~ he says, ~We're halted.~
Limbo pages all: And that's the last shifting out of any of you. ;)
Paul pages all: That's why I did while I COULD, considering the grass and such.
Limbo pages all: Limbo points out that she means that it's actually physically impossible to shift now. :}
Paul pages all: NOW he finds out.
Wayfinder pages all: Egad, I'm stuck in /wolf/ form?
Wayfinder pops her head up above the grass, looking wild-eyed. In the middle of grumbling about little Striders and silver rivers and wolves are not meant to /fly/, for Gaia's sake, she catches sight of the figure, and trains her attention on it, falling silent.
Kid pushes the bucket back and scratches its forehead with the laser gun. "No, no," (in an aggrieved tone), "You're supposed to say, 'Aren't you a little short for a Storm Trooper?'"
Sepdet decides she's not hallucinating, but that doesn't mean what she's hearing will make any more sense. In spite of the directive, she ventures--slowly--to stir, moving to roll up onto her elbows at least. "What's a Storm Trooper?" she asks seriously, hoping the question may distract.
Paul says, "Well, hm. Aren't you a little short for a stormtrooper?" He looks around, befuzzled, at his 'prison'? Although his expression SHOUTS confusion, his friend's will notice a wee bit of panic in there too.
Kid drops the gun, staring at Sepdet. "You don't /know?/" Complete bafflement readiates from the young voice. "Oh, well, it doesn't matter, I'm not really a Storm Trooper anyway. I'm a Jedi. What are you?"
Paul says, "We're certainly not Imperials."
Wayfinder scrunches back down into the grass, inching forward on her belly towards the Kid.
Paul mutters to himself, "We'd better not be, anyway. They lose hard."
Dylan gazes at the kid, then at Paul, who seems to understand, and suddenly looks struck with memory. He sits up slowly. ~Movie,~ he says, remembering. ~Star...with Darth Vader.~ He nods to Sepdet. ~The one you sounded like, in combat.~
Sepdet sits up very gingerly. "Bruised," she growls. "We didn't mean to drop in."
Sepdet blinks, this seeming to register at least vaguely.
Paul nods to Dylan, gnawing his lip as he looks around with still too-bright eyes.
Kid nods eagerly at Dylan. "The /best/ movie. And I know you're not Imperials. They're the ones who killed our dragon." A dark note enters the child's voice and teeth worry at a lower lip. It holds a hand out to Wayfinder, seemingly completely unafraid. (For anyone who is looking, the gun which was dropped to the grass has vanished completely.)
Paul doesn't seem to be looking. Or noticing. Of all the places the Pack's been, this one actually seems to have him worried.
~I'm...sorry...to hear it.~ Dylan says slowly. ~Where are your friends?~
Wayfinder sits upright, just short of the Kid. Although her expression is dubious, even mistrustful, she hesitantly extends her muzzle towards the offered hand. Dragon? It wasn't a white one, this one hopes...
Sepdet turns a hopeful glance towards Paul, considering him the most human, and perhaps most conversant, in a world where modern human myths seem to hold sway. She blinks at his expression and moves towards him. "Heya, did you knock your head?"
Kid shakes its head at Wayfinder. "No, it was one of the Guardians, they're rainbow-colored." A glance back up at Dylan; disturbing intelligence in the bright dark eyes, half-hidden by hair. "Oh, they're everywhere here. Are you the... the grown-ups? The Queens said they would be coming. The grown-ups wouldn't be human, she said, so that's okay."
Dylan's gaze moves from the child to his packmates. ~I think...that we are in-between. I do not know if we are grown-ups or not.~ He pauses, then switches languages as he returns his gaze to the small role-player. *Do you understand everything we say?*
Paul takes a deep breath and looses a little of the wildness in his eyes. "No, didn't hit my head. Feeling pretty damned human, though." He manages a small smile and says to Kid, "She did, did she? How close are the Imperial armies?"
Wayfinder snorts, startled....Understands wolf speech? She backs away, up against Dylan's knees, ears lying flat with confusion. No grown-ups?
Sepdet shakes some of the grass out of her cloak, relieved at Dylan's small discovery, since her English these days is passable, but uncomfortable. ~I wonder if the dragon's death is connected with the wound we saw,~ she hazards thoughtfully.
Kid grins at Dylan, obviously proud. "Everything." The gaze shifts to Paul, and it says soberly, "Too close. Much too close." The last words trail off into a whisper, and the tiny figure stands quite still for an instant. Then the child shakes all over like a wet puppy, and says "I have to take you in, you'd get lost otherwise. Come on. You want to see the dragon first?"
Paul nods soberly.
Dylan glances at Sepdet in surprised appreciation, but doesn't comment. Instead he gets to his feet, unintentionally looming over the small native guide. ~Yes. Please. Were you...close to it?~
Kid ignores Dylan for the moment, looking sharply at Sepdet. "You'd better come see. All of you." The "native guide" leads you only a short distance away, to a green slope dotted with dandelions. The sky seems to meet the grass like a glass wall at the top of the slope, and the dragon lies there.
Wayfinder sticks close to Dylan's side, grumbling softly, body posture radiating confused irritation. Dragons...squish people...
Kid looks at Wayfinder, outraged. "No they don't! They /protect/ people!"
Sepdet follows quietly. ~We come from another place,~ she explains, voice very hushed as the evidence before her eyes makes this explicit. She climbs the hill hesitantly, nostrils flaring at familiar and unfamiliar scenes. ~There are stories of other kinds of dragons there.~
The shape is enormous, at least one hundred feet in length, a smooth, translucent beast somewhere halfway between a western dragon and an oriental dragon. Its scales are surprisingly small and fine, thinning to hairlike in a mane just behind the head and lining the top of the sinuous neck. Though the shine is dimming in death, the rainbow gleam of its hide remains, hinting at the glory of brilliance it must have been while alive. Gem-cut eyes have lost their life, darkening to dull, smoked glass. The creature's lower jaw has been brutally snapped and nearly torn off, and its throat torn out as if by something reaching down the throat. The head cradles in a crusting pool of dark blood.
Dylan looks long and soberly at the dead dragon. ~Children?~ he asks. ~They protect children?~
Kid nods, looking tearlessly at the body of its friend, the tiny lithe body tense and still.
Wayfinder huffs. This one was squished by a dragon, but one survived, she notes, somewhat smugly. She approaches the corpse. Although it wasn't this kind of dragon. She sniffs hesitantly at it, paws braced.
Paul says, "And storys of those that protect the innocent too." He looks over the dragon and sighs softly, then asks the Kid, "The Imperials did this? And then went where?"
Sepdet comes to a sudden halt. ~Kshema,~ she reminds Wayfinder soberly, thinking of another creature less substantial but not unlike this great sad beast. She kneels stiffly, looking the beast over with the weariness of one who has seen many other wounds far beyond her hands' skill to alter.
Paul keeps his eyes on the surroundings, watching for something a bit taller than Kid, and capable of ripping a dragon's jaw off.
Kid says stiffly, "I'm not s'posed to talk about it, they say, not to you. Bad dreams. The Queens will tell you. C'mon." It starts walking back down the slope, leading you away from the dragon's body. Then, suddenly, the child explodes in a whirl of movement, running back up the slope and pulling the flashlight off of the rope belt. With a *wooomph,* a blade of light erupts from the lightsaber and the child stands by the dragon, holding it up towards the sky and screaming in high-pitched rage.
Paul follows the child's line of sight, then dances away as a REAL lightsaber startles him. "A Jedi is calm."
Sepdet stares at the kid's hand in disbelief, several things occurring to her simultaneously. One is to stand up and brace, since she was only just going to follow him downhill. The other is to hold out her left hand and hope.
You paged Limbo with '. o O (Perhaps I can have a moon knife or other weapon of some sort? Since I have no claws?)'.
You paged Limbo with 'Just testing the physics of this place. :)'.
Limbo pages: Nope, the physics don't seem to be working for you. :}
You paged Limbo with 'Well, 'twas a thought. :)'.
Limbo pages: Good thought, though. :)
Wayfinder lays her ears back, lip lifting a little bit in distaste. Something of the Wyrm killed it...but one suspects you all know that. Her head comes up, instant attention on the child.
Kid whirls around, pointing that blade at Paul.
Paul crouches at that, eyes narrowing dangerously. "Fear, anger, power, a Jedi craves not these things." A moment later he adds, "And I really, really hate the thought of being carved like a roast."
Dylan takes a slow step forward. ~It is terrible, to lose a friend and feel powerless.~
Sepdet lets a hand fall and stares upwards towards the sky, trying to see whatever the child was screaming at.
Wayfinder just bristles, teeth bared at the..thing aimed at her packmate.
Kid eyes Paul with disfavor. "/You/ aren't five hundred years old." But the lightsaber is clicked off and rehung on the belt, whereupon it returns to looking like a battered flashlight. "C'mon." The child starts trudging towards the spires.
Paul growls out, "What, so that makes me /wrong/?" Rolling his shoulders stiffly, he follows after, but his mood's on a downhill slide again.
Pack> Paul says "If any of this pack get a lightsaber, it'd be Dylan. I'm way, way too angry most of the time."
Pack> Paul says "He's got a prop, dear. A flashlight (or at least a handle that looks like a flashlight, eh?). Besides. We're grownups and we are NOT in Kansas anymore."
Pack> Wayfinder figgers Wayf has never seen Star Wars.
Pack> Sepdet hasn't either but knows it's some sort of myth. :)
Pack> Wayfinder is tempted to say to Paul, "And you aren't green, either." but that would by way ooc. ;)
Sepdet keeps squinting upward for a moment in puzzlement, having retreated to a sort of patient silence while she tries to understand the currents of the place. Then she shakes her head and paces after, humming a melencholy tune. She steals one further glance at the dead dragon as we depart.
Dylan follows the child, still a little stiff from the adrenaline the child's scream gave rise to. He glances at Paul, neither understanding the reference to age nor expecting to, until he says, in surprised recollection, "Yoda."
Wayfinder lopes after the kid, flanking him, and placing herself between he and Paul. Despite her utter confusion, she seems to be adjusting quickly.
Paul says "Small, green, cryptic, and altogether fun to have around."."
~I shall keep it in mind,~ Dylan says gravely.
The countryside, if it can be called uniform, is uniformly rich and verdant. Fields full of wildflowers and soft grasses ripple in the wind. Forests reach skyward, dappling the light that falls. Occasionally, a peal of childish laughter, usually followed by more giggles and distant conversation, rings through the sussurrus of the breeze. A few tousled heads peer down from tree forts or out of hedge hideaways at the strangers passing through, but none approach, nor even call out. There is even a glimmer of fear in some faces. Some beings aren't human at all, or are only partly human, and they seem to be playing with their human counterparts easily and happily.
Paul grumbles, "So where's Aslan?"
Wayfinder flicks a glance at Paul. That one is a lion, one knows.
Pack> Wayfinder starts humming "Yoda, Y-O-D-A, Yoda..."
Pack> Paul is obviously NOT in the right mood to be savior of childlings. :)
Sepdet holds up a hand in a subdued wave as we pass by this face or that pair of eyes watching from a distance, her face and stride relaxed, although her eyes are still melencholy. To Wayfinder and Paul she hums softly, remembering halfway through that the child can quite possibly understand even wind-music. Go gently. Remember we are supposed to be grown-ups, and he just a-- he has lost his dragon, and so he is angry.
Kid stumps on towards the tower at the center of things. "You are wrong. You're all wrong. We're allowed to be angry, we're allowed to have things here. I think the Queens have gone off the deep end, saying they needed you. I want to deal with the Imperial troops. I could do it." The child shuts off the flow of talk abruptly and goes on in silence, the narrow feet making no sound at all in the grass.
Wayfinder looks somewhat glum, as she paces along. One thinks being grow-up here is likely to...hurt.
Dylan stops abruptly - only for a heartbeat, but there is something in his expression at the child's words that suggests that he might be a shade pale bneath his black dusting of fur. ~No,~ he says. ~No, it is the children who have been hurt. Elsewhere.~
Paul says, "You could. Or you could have..." he cuts himself off and tries a different tack, "Don't you think going with more than one, and some planning, might hurt them worse?"
The grasslands and forests fade into a stretch of white-sanded beach, the grains nearly as fine as sugar. The beach borders a lapis lazuli lake which runs gentle tides against the sand. Beyond the lake rises gleaming towers. At the center is the great sun-spire.
Kid shrugs, passing beneath the first arch of the tower's gates. "I'm not the only one. But it doesn't matter. The Queens won't let us kill anything, not even the... the..." the child swallows strongly, whether it is fear or anger it is hard to tell. "The one who killed our dragon. That's your job."
Paul's eyes narrow. "Our JOB, is it?"
Sepdet exchanges a wan nod with Dylan, things slowly falling into place. ~The cubs aren't allowed to kill. Paul, please.~
Dylan takes a long step forward and puts his hand on Paul's shoulder, just resting it there.
~If it is our job, it is our job.,~ Dylan says bleakly.
Wayfinder eyes the water with considerably more pleasure than the disconcerted wolf has shown so far. She looks around with interest, chuffing soft agreement with Sepdet. We came to help.
Wayfinder butts Paul gently with her head. And it is in the Litany. It /is/ our job.
Sepdet gives Dylan a strange tight smile, then turns her gaze back to the tower, eyes drifting up and up to the gleaming brilliance above the tower. ~The Sun is held in honor,~ she observes softly.
Paul unstiffens by increments. "Fine, fine. I try to keep my killing voluntary, and against the Foe, but no one's said it won't be both."
Paul says down to Wayfinder, "You're leaping to conclusions, Wayfinder, but I'll hope you're right.
Wayfinder smelled the enemy, brother. It killed the dragon.
Kid climbs a wide set of stairs into the tower, waving at several other children who peek around doors. Halfway up, the child seems to get tired and sits on the bannister instead, and glides quickly up to the top.
The gates are massive arcs of precious stones: the first aquamarine, the second sapphire, the third amethyst, the fourth ruby, the fifth emerald. The emerald gate is the only one that is shut, and as you approach, it slowly swings ajar.
Sepdet shies in the middle of the fourth gate, shielding her eyes with her hands. She quickly moves forward to the green space, laying a hand against the inner surface of rock before moving on.
Paul says quietly, "From the red, to the green."
Kid runs through the last gate, shoving it wide open, and dashes through the large room beyond, the slaps of its footfalls echoing through the room. "I brought them. I don't like them, that's okay, isn't it?"
Wayfinder eyes the bannister as they climb, obviously wanting to give the sliding trick a try, but unable to in her current form. Senses alert, she pads steps behind the small Strider, into the room behind the emerald doors.
The hall, bright with the the light that comes through the faceted walls, comes alive with the motion of the Metal Queen on her thrones as you step through the great emerald doors. At the center of the arc of thrones resides the Iron Queen, hematite eyes glittering coldly as she studies those brought into her presence. To her right hand sits the Argent Queen, one hand resting easily on a low stand that holds several large tomes. To her left hand sits the Copper Queen, hands coming to motion on her mahogany loom. To the right of the Argent Queen is the Lead Queen, who sits motionless, though her eyes follow each motion in the room. Completing the arc of five at the Copper Queen's left is the Amalgam Queen, her body a mixture of colors and textures -- all metallic, but strange and patchwork of appearance. She appears to be in a sort of trance.
The Argent Queen smiles down at the Kid softly. "Of course," she says in a voice warm as a clear June day. "We thank you."
Paul stays quiet, having caused more than enough trouble for one trip to the Twilight Zone.
Kid nods. "Y'welcome lots." And with no more formality than that the child runs behind the nearest throne and is gone.
The Iron Queen inclines her head to the group. "Welcome to that which we name Ishikor, the Mirror, the Land of Sleepless Dreams. We are unaccustomed to strangers here. Under normal circumstances, you would never have perceived our realm, much less entered."
Paul stirs a little, subsiding respectfully.
Sepdet strides to the middle of the hall with fear gone, having made up her mind about this place. She eyes the silvered facets of the Argent Queen with a rueful smile and inclines her head instead with a slight nod. "Pardon if we do not shake hands...or whatever is the custom here. But greetings, Lady. We perceived the wound. What must be done?"
Pack> Sepdet donno if silver hurts in this realm but I'm not gonna test it! :)
Pack> Dylan says "Heh."
Pack> Paul, being thoroughly stuck in homid, could shake her hand methinks.
Pack> Dylan says "Nonsense. It's probably a killing offense here, or something."
Wayfinder's fur bristles again, although less with hostility than with awe and perturbation, as she takes in the sights of the hall. She paces to just behind Sepdet, and one pace to the side, claws clicking on the floor.
To the pack, Sepdet is attuned now, or something (not that I've done sense Wyrm). Except that she's been subdued and a little sad ever since she saw the dragon. It reminded her of finding Dusty on the hill when she was a child...a cub.
Dylan comes forward a little more slowly to stand beside Wayfinder, one long hand resting lightly on her ruff. He listens.
Paul stays at the rear of the group. Attentive rearguard, at effective parade rest with his hands behind him.
Paul pages all: Near his gun. Shyeah. Like it matters at all, here or outside. :)
The Argent Queen sighs, the smile still lingering on her lips. The knocking of the Copper Queen's loom beats a steady rhythm. The Iron Queen focuses her dark gaze upon Sepdet. "One has come here that violates the Law of Returning. He has slain one of our Guardians. This place is a haven, you understand, not a place where the children -- and even the occasional adults who still come to us -- learn to kill."
The silver one speaks: "A group of children are questing now for the means to return Hiri to life. We know not if it will come to them, or if forever more one of the edges of the Eight-Sided Mirror shall be unguarded."
The loom clacks steadily, but the Copper Queen says, "Our need is great."
And the Lead Queen says, "We need you to slay or otherwise remove the Enemy."
Paul's expression darkens another touch to grim. But he continues to respectfully hold silence.
Dylan's face tightens and his eyes are bleak, but he inclines his head a fraction of an inch, still listeing.
You paged Limbo with 'Odd question. Have we seen any birds since we came here?'.
From afar, Limbo nods. There's wildlife all through the woods, birds, squirrels, the whole deal. Mostly nigh-tame, too.
Sepdet speaks hesitantly, confused at her own thoughts. ~Another thing fell into your world. A bird. It is not of your world, but is of magic, of spirit. Perhaps the children can find that life, to help the dragon's life, as we have fallen down here to kill, for the sake of a killing.~
The Queen nods at the suggestion.
Dylan looks respectfully at Sepdet.
Long distance to Limbo: Sepdet thinks in weird ways. :)
Pack> Wayfinder mutters "I knew this was gonna hurt...:P"
Pack> Dylan says "That's how we get glory'n'stuff, Wayf. Don't worry, it'll only sting for a minute... :)"
Pack> Wayfinder says "Hah, that's what /you/ say...;)"
Wayfinder keeps silent, steady gaze upon whomever is speaking.
Sepdet turns back to her pack. ~I feel like a cub here,~ she confesses. ~And I have not fought anything since I was hurt. But there is wyrm--Wayfinder smelled it. And there are children here who are kept from learning how to kill. And the air feels right, although things are seldom exactly what they look like. Wayfinder, Paul, do you agree we must do this?~
Paul shrugs his shoulders slightly. "The fight finds us if we don't find it. I'm not going to stand by and watch a haven be destroyed, children become me that don't have to. But I want it clear we do this because it is to be DONE, not because we have been asked, summoned, or compelled. If this Enemy is not THE enemy, I will not promise to kill."
Dylan says, ~Or otherwise remove.~
Sepdet smiles sadly. ~Well that is agreed. Then the wind's all blowing the same way. All right, Ladies. Tell us two things. First, we cannot take our...fighting-shape...here. Is there a way we may fight by the laws of your world? And second, do you know how we may find and know these "Imperials" the cub spoke of?~
Dylan echoes the Queen's words, a reminder.
The Iron Queen leans forward in her seat, eyes intense. "We have a guide that will help to lead you to this Lawbreaker-Heartslayer. We do not know his power nor his guise nor his exact intent, but by violence he came and by violence he must go."
The Argent Queen speaks again, this time hesitantly. "If... you find that you cannot or do not wish to slay him... there is a place to remove him to, but it would require a quest." She exchanges a glance with the Copper Queen. "You may prefer to simply end the matter."
Pack> Paul is have ugly feelings about being brought in as a supernatural hit-thing.
Pack> Sepdet understands that in dream-countries, made of childrens' dreams, sometimes the children need heroes.
Pack> Dylan is midway between the two.
Dylan looks up, the strain in his face easing for a moment. ~A quest?~
Wayfinder lifts her chin, jaw dropping in a wry half-grin at Sepdet. This one will fight it, if it is of the Wyrm...or perhaps we can find a ~jar~ to stick it in? She tilts her head towards the Queen, brightening. Quest?
The Lead Queen intones, "We can fashion weapons at need."
The Amalgam Queen speaks for the first time, her voice a legion of many. "There is a dark side to the Mirror, a realm of hatred and anger, a place where even creatures of Rage such as yourselves may quail at the rage you see. An Underworld, a Land of Sleepless Nightmares and Daydreams. There is a Queen there too who can judge him and hold him, prevent him from other violence, from ever returning to Ishikor."
Paul asks, "Who can, or who will?"
(end of first session)
Pack> Dylan says "Paul, pack ahroun and lawyer. :)"
Pack> Paul says "It's not just a job, it's a lifestyle! Color me sensitive to nuance."Pack> Wayfinder wonders if the Queen is talking about the two realms, Atrocity and Erebus?
Pack> Dylan thinks this is Other.
Pack> Sepdet yeahs. There's more worlds between heaven and earth than are dreamed of in our philosophy.
Limbo pages all: Okay, then. Let's hang it up on this note. When we resume on Monday, hopefully my cut-and-paste will be more reliable (I'll restart the computer this time instead of using it without restart! I don't know what my father *does* to this machine!) and I'll throw up the last five poses or so from the log. Monday at 9, then?
Pack> Paul pictures it as Seelie and Unseelie himself, but is in a fae mindset tonight. Dream and Nightmare.are.
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