NationStates Jolt Archive

The moors were dark in the best of times. And now they were naught but black veils on the eyes of men.

Black veils...Where had he heard that before? Chapter Six! Quickly Tynler pulled out a chem torch and shook it up the book was in his hand as he read the passage.

When the black veils descend so shall the Tye Gwat unend. They who posses magic so shall never cold death or poverty know.

Tynler smiled and turned to his companions...

OOC: Just RP the people that made it with him thus far more can be added later.

OOC: Sounds interesting, I'll keep my eyes on it.

bump for Camel Eaters

bump

Just look at him, smirking away like that, thinks he knows everything, I bet, Finula told herself.

It wasn't very kind, it wasn't very adult. Until Tynler turned the light on she hadn't been able to see a thing. Worse, it had felt as if something was stealing the seeing away from her eyes. So when there was a bit of light and she could sort out what was real, she'd been so grateful she'd wanted to rush over and cuddle him round the knees and sniffle and be looked after.

But you don't do that when you're eleven. You particularly don't do that when you don't know what's going on or how you got here, but you do know that you're on your own. Possibly forever. No more annoying Aneurin. No more thinks-she's-grown-up Angharred. Maybe even no Mo ... stop that.

Finula had learnt a lot in the short time since the world ended. For one thing, she'd learnt that all that stuff about "being brave" didn't work. Being snippy worked. Being spiteful. Working up a good solid mad against everyone and everything.

So she glared unforgivingly at Tynler, ignored his smile and tried to see if the book he held was what she thought it was.

OOC: If there's no room for a kid in this RP, leave her at the first inn you come to and come back five years later.

OOC: Twill work have to get off for the night.

Tynler looked closely at Finula. His monkish background became useful when trying to read people's thoughts. First she was happy that he'd brought light, then again so was he, then she was trying to prove herself, after that a quick look of pain remembering her family. Now she was fully snippy again.

Tynler, who was twelve, slid next to Finula and showed her the book "I had to steal it but it was worth it. Now we can control the Tye Gwat. And maybe," At this point he leaned in "A little something more." He heard a throat clear behing him.

Finula shrank back. A week ago she'd have moved closer to see properly. A week ago she was a different person. But now she tensed, rose slightly, gathered her legs under her. She put her hand down and leaned her weight on it, seemingly eager to look more closely. But in this pose she could spring to her feet and be away before the boy could even stand up.

He did nothing threatening, though. Simply held the book open. He seemed to think he was sharing something important with her. He said "we" as if they had something in common. I'll just read him, she thought. Carefully she imagined the tiny thread of light reaching out toward him, held her breath as she thought she felt the slight tug of connection ... it happened again. The link wavered and fell away.

Finula's head jerked angrily. She raised a hand and pretended to smooth back her hair to cover the reaction (as if anything could smooth it. Goodness, child, you look like you've been dragged through a bush backwards! Angharred would say.) The move brought her closer; a word caught her eye.

Mother's book! She bit back the exclamation. It wasn't Mother's book, of course. But there were words, whole phrases -- eagerly skimming the page, she noticed nothing until it was too late.

Tynler grinned. The mortal girl had fallen for his ruse. The real Tynler had been swallowed whole three miles back and Daggud had taken his place this tiny girl's soul was filled with strife.

With a little prompting she could be useful...

(OOC: You ... er, um, blighter! That was sneaky! So, okay, who/what was clearing their throat behind you, eh? And who/where are your/our companions? And what the hell is the Tye Gwat?)

Her panicky blast came nowhere near her attacker, but it was enough distraction to let her wriggle desperately aside. The boy grabbed for her, but her cloak tore in his hand and she was free. Sobbing in fright, she scrambled past obstacles she couldn't see. The dark veils ... she remembered, her mind skittering around the idea. If there are veils, then there has to be something behind them ...

OOC: Guess nobody else wanted to join. Daggud's master was clearing its throat and the Tye Gwat is a faerie army that can be used to conquer the world.

Tynler's face melted as Daggud assumed its true form. As an ancient Unseelie knight his features were like that of a Dark Elf except for the fangs.

The girl was quick and his mind found some opposition while trying to probe her but she had figured out that the veils had to have something behind them and his master wanted to know what that something was...

(OOC: Then if there are no other players, let's make 'em up. YEEE-HAAAA!)

Rabbit. I am a rabbit. This small frightened thing is a rabbit, Finula broadcast to the darkened woods as she crouched beneath the hollow roots of a giant plane tree. Mother had taught her how to do that as soon as she could walk. She was very good at it by now.

Fox. I am a fox. This fierce hungry thing is a fox, said another mind very near.

Finula's stomach lurched.

"Scared ya!" said a gleeful voice in her ear.

You did not. I knew it was you all along, Finula sent, while tears ran down her face and she hugged her little brother's bony frame as if he were her last hope of salvation. Which he probably was. Gulp.

Talk later. Something's after me. Rabbits here. Quiver. Small frightened things. Rabbits-fear-rabbits-fear ...

Thankfully, Aneurin listened to her. Rabbits. Dark-terror-rabbits, he broadcast obediently, while Finula quested for that other darkness that held a puzzled boy in monks' robes at its heart.

Daggud recognized the mind of a fox and was fully ready. He stopped and listened to the darkness it groaned like metal and screamed like a demon but he kept listening.

His body faded as he became darkness and found his prey. The fox was an easy target and he landed on it like a great hawk beast trying to break its back and eat its soul. The girl would be defenseless then...

OOC: Get my TG?

bumpaliciousnessocity

Something had died in the night, died horribly. Huddled together, the children had heard its screams -- a fox, Aneurin was sure; the red-headed boy had always had an affinity for those hunted hunters.

Light came grudgingly. No sun rose, but black gave way to grey. Finula saw with a sinking heart that the "forest" they had fled through last night was in fact one of the enigmatic workings of the First People. Granite pillars clustered thickly in some places, in others parted to create clearings. The low scrub that had hampered their flight had also provided their shelter, its twisted stems thick enough to trick her into imagining the enfolding roots of a plane tree. She would not have walked here by choice; the First People's places whispered with fading but still unmanageable power.

All the same, it didn't seem actively hostile. Cautiously, feeling that they had escaped for a time, the children began to talk. Aneurin knew no more than she of the force that had smashed apart their lives, but he did have later word of their family.

"Mother threw me away through the air -- not with her hands, I don't know how she did it -- and I could see Angharred with a sort of blue fire all around her, and her hair standing straight out from her head. And, Fin ... " he gulped, "Mother was beginning to invoke the Woman of Flowers."

Finula's heart sank. She knew what a last, desperate measure that would have been. Aneurin might just as well have told her they were both dead.

Daggud had gotten the wrong fox and his master was unhappy. The searing pain that accompanied failure lashed across his back again and again as he thought of that stupid girl he'd make her wish that she was dead.

His mind raced through the air over the Ruins looking for them both of them. She had a protecter now and he had to kill it.

There they were his mind came back as he raced through the vegetation and rested on the edge of the Ruins his eyes could pick them out easily enough as he snuck forward...

OOC: Get my TG?

The smell of rotting meat brought Finula and Aneurin to their feet, gagging.
Through watering eyes they tried to focus on the armed figure that had risen from the gorse behind them.

"Run, Nye!" Finula screamed, zig-zagging in front of the creature as she had once seen a cat do to lead a fox away from its litter. But it was not distracted. It strode towards the little boy, raising its sword for a killing stroke.

Aneurin took two steps back then stood still, looking up; and, to Finula's amazement, the figure stopped short. Its sword fell, but did not connect. It seemed unable to move.

Finula felt the ground writhe beneath her feet. Looking down, she saw it was covered in the white stars of wait-a-bit creeper. The sturdy plant bound the legs of their attacker.

Well, that explains the smell, she told herself, unable to stop her mind analysing even in this crisis. Once she had found a small, rotting carcass caught in the toils of this very plant, some tiny beast attracted by its honeyed petals. But how could this happen, a whole swathe of land covered so suddenly? Magic, for sure, but not her magic ...

The Woman of Flowers did not smile. She showed no sign of triumph. Called by a Sister in the desperate working that took her life, the Woman had only one task. "Guard the children!" the sister had commanded. She had found the children. She had guarded them. She would continue. But where was the missing child?

Finula didn't stop to work out what had happened. Granted a chance, she took it. The attacker was hacking at the restraining vines; she could feel him gathering power to burn the plant away. Finula was sure it wouldn't be that easy, but she wasn't going to stick around to find out. Dragging Aneurin with her, his shorter legs pumping to keep up, she ran into this unknown land.

Daggud's mind easily probed the depths of the Woman of Flowers. she is watching another child. Tynler should do he thought as he assumed the form of the small monk boy.

Daggud knew that the Cryers (think cat mixed with bat and raised in Hell) would follow the children and if needed take them to Master meanwhile he would deal with this flowery bitch...

A Cryer flock streaked toward the children their tell-tell shriek of joy and death echoing in the mountains...

The Woman of Flowers had no sense of self. An elemental force, she did what had to be done. This threat to the children was dealt with. She saw no reason to stay and continue the battle. Another difficulty existed.

Her attention focussed on the Cryers. Animals; therefore, animal responses. Two simulacra of the children emerged from the rough tussocks covering the moors. No human would have been fooled; grass and leaves formed their bodies. But what grasses! Every animal has its weakness. The Woman of Flowers had brought forth the tiny f'sain, irresistible in scent and taste to the eldritch pursuers. They swerved to follow her lure.

Finula and Aneurin didn't even know they had been protected. Running, stumbling, they made towards a line on the horizon, something that promised the works of humans, people among whom they might hide. Nye was the first to reach it, bursting through the bushes onto a wide, paved road.

"You bloody little idiot!" roared a voice, while a powerful arm hoisted the boy to eye-level and dangled him like a kitten. "You could have been killed! I could have been killed, if I didn't have a bloody intelligent horse! What in the name of all the gods do you think you were doing?"

"Escaping," returned the literal-minded Nye.

Daggud was disgusted by the Cryers so he ate their minds and took over their bodies. He felt a strong alure to the creatures below and one or two of the Cryers swerved to take them but the rest pressed on...

Herletz had been here a long time and Herletz liked man flesh the tiny demon crept forward from his burrow but the sunlight hurt his ancinet membrane like skin. Didn't matter Herletz could wait and wait...

The Weasel Ker were long used by demonic masters and they would do well here. The huge weasel like demons ran forward through the trees their poorly built and rusty swords mixed well with their leopard like hides and then they hit the road and they saw the children and the man. The horse was food for later but these had to die first...

OOC: Haha I'm having the Master pull out the stops soon.

OOC: Camel-Eaters, the TG facility isn't working, so I have to apologise here for the fact that I can't do more than this post today. (Blood tests, brrgh!) I thought these kids needed a real protector -- elementals are so single-minded, and the Woman of Flowers has her own agenda, anyway. So the person who is currently dangling Nye by his collar is a mercenary warrior and a Princess under-the-hill, an Adept, a fine singer and, curiously, a talented needlewoman, despite her preference for bone needles. (She prefers not to discuss where she gets the bone.) She goes by the name of Mariott. If you want do a post in which she's been known to your character(s) before, go for it.

OOC: Meh. I'll wait for ya. Blood tests are a bitch.

Aneurin was dumped in front of the rider before he had time to protest; Finula, trying to run away, was swept up too.

"Grab my belt," ordered the figure in the saddle.

"You're a girl!" said Finula, amazed. She could tell this was one of the People-Under-Hill, and she'd never heard of them being warrior women.

"I'm Marriott," said the rider, as if she thought "Marriott" was a separate breed altogether. "And I'm alive, and I want to stay that way, so hold on!"

Triumphant howls rose around them. Clawed fingers grabbed for the bridle. Finula could have sworn that the horse laughed as it reared, bit and struck out with its hooves. Marriott, her left arm holding Aneurin and the reins, slashed downward, then sliced up with the sword that she had somehow drawn despite the obstruction. Dark blood sprayed them.

"Hold bloody ON!" Marriott ordered again. Finula felt the horse's muscles bunch beneath them and the landscape blurred as they fled down the road, the cries of the Weasel Ker fading in the distance.

"They'll follow, of course," said Marriott. "They're inexorable. We'll have to destroy them. But we'll do it on my ground."

Finula heard the grim words without really understanding them. She was still trying to cope with all that had happened. With the certainty that Mother was dead; with the realisation that someone had just been trying to kill her, Finula, not just anyone in general but her particular self; and with the awareness that this new stranger was not a kidnapper but a rescuer.

To her shame, tears began to run down her face. Instantly, Marriott passed back a gauzy handkerchief subtly embroidered with arms that even a child could recognise; arms that spoke of centuries of power justly wielded.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you that the Sidhe have eyes in the back of their heads?" said the bloodthirsty Princess.

OOC: Sorry, TG thingy still not working. I did this post early because I've got another round of tests tda (X-rays; bearable). It's not serious, it's just the doctor making absolutely sure it's not serious. (Think he's a litigation hyopochondriac.)

I've never RPd with just two before, so I'm not sure of the conventions. If you want to jump ahead a bit, please assume Marriott and kids have holed up in somewhere un-get-attable and will succeed, with support, in wiping out that particular bunch of Weasel Ker. I'll RP it in flashback or reported speech later and pick up the action wherever you get the story to.

Daggud let the Cryers go they would swoop and come back to him. He could no longer see the Woman of Flowers and didn't really care. Daggud's master had brought him a horde of Weasel Ker and he planned to use them.

He and the horde had regrouped and gotten some animals. Big burly boars that were at least ten foot at the shoulder and they were in hot pursuit. The land laid out before them as they chased after the sidhe and the children. The Cryers circled as the sun went down...

Herletz emerged from his burrow the moonlight glistening off his skin as every scent and scene for many miles was put direclty into his brain. He felt the heart thumpings of Weasel Ker and a horse and the children. Ah yes children they were so delectable to watch as they were tortured and they screamed and cried and cooked. His body shook with ecstatsy with the thought of the coming meal but he'd have to catch them first.

Herletz moved quickly through the night in search of the soft child flesh...

The horse couldn't possibly be going this fast, but it was. The horse couldn't possibly carry so many people, but it did. Finula clung on as they flew -- maybe they really were flying -- arrow-straight down the road, directly at a looming tumble of rocks.

Just as they should have been dashed to bloody jelly on the first boulder, they clattered across a wooden bridge that was already being raised. A shining copper -- copper -- portcullis almost grazed Marriott's hair as it fell.

"Late for dinner again, sister!" chided a taller male version of their rescuer, not pausing as he directed archers with strange, glowing arrows to the battlements. An older, bearded version of him was already up there, staff raised, extended hand questing like a weapon finding its range.

Fussing, a slightly younger Marriott -- female this time -- drew the children down from the horse, threw warm shawls around them, hustled them off to a
busy kitchen and settled them down, jumping up constantly to see to their further comfort. Finula couldn't believe it: "Don't you want to watch the battle?" she asked.

"Oh, Father'll see to it," the mini-Marriott returned, confidently. "They're just the creatures of some other mage. Now if it were one-to-one, full magic battle, I might turn out, but it'd just be to see if I could learn a few new tricks. There's not a lot we can't deal with here. Oh, by the way, I'm Kerril. You might have guessed I'm Marriott's sister."

Saying incongruously polite hellos, introducing her brother and dealing with the excess of silver cutlery before her, Finula wasn't comforted by Kerril's sense of security. She'd have said the same a few weeks ago, safe in their hidden valley with one of the strongest of mortal witches protecting them.

[OOC: The restriction on iron in the lives of the Shining Ones is a bitch when you're writing physical defences!]

The boars were like moonlight traveling the dark road. Their hides heaved as the demons rode towards the battlements.

Horns were sounded by the Weasel Ker as they drew bow and fired their explosive arrows at the fortress. Ogres had been brought up from hell and they were carrying battering rams the size of oaks and they began banging into the fort.

The Cryers swirled in huge flocks overhead diving and screaming war cries at the fort trying to carry away as many of the elf things as they could.

OOC: You posted with a puppet.

{OOC: Goddamn! ANd now I'm doing it again! Gotta make it short, outta here soonest ...}

The towering white figure on the battlements gestured. Sheets of flame enveloped the enemy; sheets of glass enveloped the castle. But not glass, for missiles shattered against it. Down below, defenders heated the huge cauldrons that would pour Greek fire on the assailants, should they ever reach the misericordiae.

Outside the walls, the closest, caught in the boundaries of the spell, died. But the magic was all defensive. The sheets of flame burned, but did not consume. However, few attackers risked them twice. The giant boars could not be forced on despite the urgings of their demon riders; their animal instincts would not let them plunge into a fire.

{OOC again: Misericordia is the name of the little hole you pour boiling oil through, isn't it? I mean the sort of spyhole thing they used to have directly over the space between the wooden gate and the portcullis.)

The ogres advanced through the fire their tough hides protecting them from the all consuming flames.

Daggud dismounted from his boar and raised a hand before the flames. An icy stillness crept over everything that drew breath fire included. The flames directly in front of him parted as a of his men could make it through. He followed them drawing sword and tapping into the void that existed at the core of his soul. This was what gave him power his need to devour.

Herletz observed the fortress his skin allowing him to notice the weakest point in the flames he jumped through and easily burrowed under the glass making his way to the child flesh...

OOC: Yeah I think that's right.

bump

The crackle of spell and counter-spell scared Finula. This was the way it had been when her home was destroyed. Kerril, however, seemed unmoved.

"This place can stand up to anything; it was built for defence," she said. "On top of that, we're not too bad at this, as a family, and now we're all grown there's quite a bit of talent around. And then there's the matter of who we are."

Finula looked a question.

"Wipe us out and you don't just annoy, say, the King," Kerril explained. "You get off-side with every big and little clan in Faerie. You mess up your supply lines, your armaments, your mercenaries, your alliances ... and the Goddess knows what starts happening at your home base. When they're mad at us they call us mongrels and half-breeds, but most of the time everybody, and I do mean everybody, calls us cousin."

Interesting though this was, Finula didn't find it all that convincing. Ogres at the gates, now; that was convincing.

The steady pounding was getting through even Kerril's calm. She gave a small snort of annoyance as she zapped a spot in the courtyard where cobblestones were bulging upward.

"Burrowing gnomes, really!" she huffed. "All the same, they do seem oddly persistent. I wonder ... "

"Stop it, it's bad for your complexion," said her big sister, swooping by with her arms full of riding gear. "This is getting annoying -- and on a weekend, too! Finula, goddess knows why, but they seem really determined about something, and I think it's you. Or your brother. Anyway, I'm getting you both out of here. We're going to Court. If the High Table can't sort it out, no-one can."

Swept up by Marriott's organising skill, Nye and Finula found themselves fed, clothed, mounted and supplied without knowing how it happened. Within minutes, it seemed, they were being smuggled down corridors, through walls, along leafy tracks and into underground tunnels in a whirl of competence that left them gasping. The attacking army left far to the rear, all the small party had to worry about was the next meal-break -- and a strange whiffling sound in the forest.

Daggud was annoyed. He finally decide it was time. Melting into and becoming darkness he emerged inside the fortress and began slaughtering everything near him. Without his protection those few Weasel Ker that had gone into the flames were consumed, he heard their screams and devoured their collective minds as he kept going...

Herletz had followed them through and his hunger was sated if only for a moment by a passing elf child. But now he was hungry again. Pressing forward forever forward. He pursued the child flesh...

Deep inside the Solar, effectively removed from the universe in which the apparent slaughter was taking place, the castle's inhabitants scryed the progress of the attack. The invaders were visiting an insane fury on Seemings; it was an unnerving experience to watch "oneself" torn apart. Even knowing it was unreal, the whole room gasped aloud as one attacker devoured the Seeming of a child. The Seleigh's legendary devotion to children intensified the horror.

"There is more behind this than simple conquest," the Castellan said. "We must inform the Court. I cannot entrust it to a message. Kerril, Cieran, help me construct a Gate."

But while great magics bloomed behind them, Merriott and her charges made their way along forest trails hidden by nothing but natural wiles. Despite the help of Fey supplies and mounts, the children tired quickly -- so much that, when they stopped to set up the night's camp, Finula did not notice at first that Nye had gone missing. When she did, she put it down to a sudden attack of modesty; then, when he still did not come back, she decided he was hiding to avoid doing his share.

Just as she felt the first twinges of real uneasiness, he tumbled back into camp, followed by ... some sort of animal?

"Can we keep it?" he demanded. "It's really tame. I think it must have belonged to someone."

Marriott frowned. "It's not an animal, it's a person," she said. "One of those nasty little things that think with their stomachs." She reached for her sword, then thought better of it; had she been among mortals too long, to think so easily of killing?

"You were lucky it didn't eat you," she told Aneurin, but the boy was obviously still too young to see danger until it was upon him. He was feeding the creature from their own stores. It did seem able to eat elves' food, which probably no creature of the Dark could stand; huge quantities, in fact, surely enough to make it curl up and sleep. And if she kept it here, under her eye, for the night, it would be one less threat creeping up on them ...

"I'm sorry, I must bind you," she told it, knowing that tiredness might overcome even her watchfulness. "I will release you in the morning, and we will see if you wish to travel in peace with us."

Herletz shook quickly knocking off any spell that could of taken hold of his mind. He spoke. "Herletz like fox. Fox always tell Herletz where new food is. Fox always trick food to Herletz. Herletz like fox." His voice was small and childish.

As his skin soaked in the moonlight extra eyes opened all over his body and great blue veins could be seen beneath his skin.

An angry red gland flared near his mouth and his teeth dripped with a strange liquid. Thorns sprouted from his hands as he shook again and launched himself at Marriot. Passing over her head he landed on something.

That something was a Weasel Ker. It brought up its sword trying to strike at Herletz. Herletz just landed on it and dug his thorny hands into the Weasel Ker's chest and began ripping. The Weasel Ker cried out again and again as Herletz ripped out its ribcage and splayed its throat.

He dragged the carcass outside the light cast by the campfire and devoured the dead Weasel Ker. The children and the elf could hear the shredding noises and blood gurgling over and over.

Finally much later Herletz walked back into the light and curled up at Nye's feet.

Still inwardly shaking from the narrow escape -- how could anything as solid as a Weasel Ker have escaped her Elven senses? -- Marriott went mechanically about the tasks of the evening. The ghastly feeding of the strange being Herletz polluted the night. Strange, the mortal children did not seem in the least disturbed. Perhaps such short-lived beings were inured to death from an early age.

It -- no, he -- had eluded her attempt at binding. Yet she did not think he was magically strong. Physically, though, he was plainly a good defender. Experience and instinct warned Marriott against the creature, but he seemed to have formed some sort of bond with the boy, and there was no doubt they needed all the help they could get. If he stays, I will not try to drive him off, she resolved. It was the best response she could bring herself to make, but it would help the child to have someone who seemed to be his friend.

Plainly, the girl, too, needed a friend. The small figure drooping in front of the campfire touched an unexpected place in Marriott's heart.

"You look sad," she told the child.

"I'm missing people," Finula said. She dug aimlessly in the dirt with a twig.
"My mother ... " She choked, stopped. "My sister Angharrad. She's very bossy, but she's really good at things like this. If she were here, we'd be organised up to our eyeballs." She looked down at her twig-digging. "I don't think Mother escaped," she said, swallowing. "Aneurin said she was raising the Woman of Flowers. But Angharrad could have got away. She's a very strong witch for a sixteen-year-old, everybody says so. I told your sister Kerril about her. Do you think your father will send out people to look for her?"

Father's got enough on his hands, thought Marriott, remembering what she had seen as they escaped the castle. But she couldn't tell the child that. "If you told Kerril, she'll be sure to do something about it," she smiled, knowing it was true. "Kerril organises everyone up to their eyeballs, too."

Daggud saw them and Master was pleased. He dropped down like the demonic entity he was and swooped each of them into his swirling vortex like body.

They were in front of Master now. The room they were in was purely dark except for two blazingly blue eyes that seemed to float at least fifty feet from the ground. "My lord," Daggud said sweeping low nobody could see him but they heard his scabbard scrape stone "I have brought the girl and the fox and the hunter. The seamstress was just a bonus."

Good Daggud you may leave The words spread through the chamber and filled it. The heads of the children and Marriot and Herletz felt so drunk with the sensation of this creature's alure and speech but at the same moment his very voice made their heads throb and want to explode.

You will serve my purpose The voice of the Master echoed again...

The Hell I will, thought Marriott. And then thought no more.

Finula reached out for her companions. She couldn't touch them! She couldn't even see them! Carefully she sent out a tendril of witch-sight ...

Only to have a blast of power sizzle back along it! What was this -- power -- that had entrapped them?

Nice try Elf witch. But you are of no consequence here. Oh children guess what Uncle Master has gotten for you? A thin light shown on an extremely bloated and pregnant Angharrad. Try me once more and she will die during childbirth is that understood? Now will you serve my purpose?

OOC: Ardchoille take it from here.

"Darlings!" gushed Angharrad. And then, as Aneurin ran towards her, "No, you musn't touch me, Nye, love. Not right now. I've got a baby inside me, and it's a little demon -- no, really, it is, sort of, and it can't control its powers yet, so it could kill you if you come near enough."

Finula gaped in disbelief. "That ... he ... that Dark One said he'd let you die in childbirth, Angharrad! Why are you laughing?"

"Oh, Fin, you're still such a child! You have to realise, dears, a lot of what Mother taught us was -- well, not wrong, exactly, just misinformed. The Unseleigh aren't evil at all, and if people would only listen ... that's why it's very important you do what the Master asks, dears. He's trying to get it all sorted out. And maybe when it's all over he'll help you expand your powers, the way he's helping me, and you'd be surprised, Fin, love, if you don't pay attention to all that old-fashioned stuff of Mother's, how very powerful a mortal witch can be ..."

Angharrad's face seemed to change, become older; behind her eyes were flames. But before Finula could be sure, the thin light flickered and Angharrad disappeared. She and Aneurin were standing ... standing? She wasn't even sure of that ... anyway, in the presence of something plainly far different from anything they had ever encountered. Marriott had gone; she couldn't help them. Angharrad wouldn't.

"What do you want?" Finula asked the Master. She couldn't believe that her voice didn't shake.

The one advantage of the Seelie is that they are under a single lord while we, He gestured around him at stone statues of lord after dark lord. still squablle amonst ourselves. Your task is to bring a message to my greatest rival Dr'oonkoss I ask him for peace so we may unite our kingdoms under a single banner and lead and assault on the Seelie Courts. He only speaks the anciect tongue so you must deliver the message in that.

He hands Nye a sheet of paper on which is written three simple wordsBrenner Hor'sey Yernish

Now leave. The children and Herletz find themselves on a dark and lonely trail with Marriot behind them. Her sword was missing though and not a single one of them had a clear memory of what just happened....

Marriott felt a slight bump, as if she'd fallen a few inches. She and her tired charges were stumbling along an unfamiliar trail. We weren't here a minute ago. Something -- dropped us.

She reached for her sword. Gone! Where? Defenceless, among who knew what dangers, and night coming on ... Marriott bit down a surge of panic and tried to think what they needed. Defence. Shelter. Rest. Information.

"Stop! We need to make camp!" she called. Supplies? Well, she seemed to have her pack, and the children theirs.

She had to find out what had happened. Her own memory stopped short at their last camp. Perhaps the children knew more. But she had to ask them right away, children's memories faded so quickly. Yet, if it got dark too soon and they weren't ready ... and she hadn't made some kind of weapon ... Stop dithering, Marriott! You've got two kids to look after!

Despite her fears, she gave a wry grin. Funny how even her own mind sounded like her sister Kerril. Well, let's get on with it, then.

An hour later, Marriott sat by the fire, one eye on the little trail-axe that had provided the wood. Like Finula, she was using her pen-knife to sharpen a handy stick for fire-hardening. Spears and an axe: luxury!

But little else about the scene pleased her. No matter how she questioned the children, nothing about the past -- day? days? -- was clear. Finula seemed to have the idea that they had seen her sister Angharred, that Angharred was pregnant and in danger.

"You're sure you're not thinking she's in danger just because she's pregnant?" she pressed.

"I'm a wise woman's daughter," said Finula, a little huffily. "I know perfectly well that not all pregnancies are dangerous."

One in the eye for you, Marriott. Fancy forgetting how grown-up eleven-year-olds are. She turned to the less touchy Aneurin. But he had little to tell.

"I don't know where we have to go and I don't know why," he insisted. "But I do know what direction to go in, and we're going the right way."

Herletz knew something. Over and over the words stumbled through his mind. Over and over he found those words for an instant as they slipped away again and again.

He was angry at himself absently staring into the flame his mouth turning a shade of red that meant his poison glands were riled. He felt a tightness all along his flesh as his thorny hunting spikes came from his skin.

The flames formed into a face a face that frightened Herletz as he screamed and threw himself into the flames slashing them out and stamping at them his screams rose higher as he felt something wrap around his ankle.

He slashed the ground forming a circle as he fell to the ground whimpering....

A thing that was ancient reared its head. A thing that was ancient looked far and saw the Seamtress. A thing that was ancient looked far and saw the Fox. A thing that was ancient looked far and saw the Hunter. A thing that was ancient looked far and saw the Girl. A thing that was ancient knew fear....

Marriott leapt to her feet. The creature that Nye had adopted had gone mad! Grabbing for her suddenly inadequate weapons, she moved to defend the children. They moved, too, Finula seizing a rock and Nye a bit of firewood.

Screaming and whimpering, Herletz fell to the ground, biting and clawing at his ankle. His struggles scribed a circle around his writhing body -- and, to the horror of his companions, the circle burned with eldritch fire.

"Leave him alone! You're hurting him!" howled Aneurin. Plunging toward the trapped creature, he hurtled straight into the flames.

And through them. Untouched, he stood beside his struggling playmate. But the branch he bore now bloomed strangely, cold blue fingers of light forming leaves and blossoms.

Herletz glanced at Aneurin smiling as he got up his eyes glowing dark red as he stepped from the flames motioning quickly behind him the branch burned black as the flames died around Nye. "We should go soon." His words were stuttered out quickly as he shook and glanced at his ankle a chain had formed around it the chain stopped at Nye's feet Herletz glanced at it and then at Aneurin. "Master?"

Daggud walked the track towards the children slowly taking the form of the monk boy Tynler stepping slowly into the fire light a sword missing in the scabbard at his waist. His robes hugged tight against his starved frame.

:upyours: :mp5:hi Camel eater i dont no what to post so thy will not say much Thy willist say that we the people of Jerusell are monks butith not just monks we are thy monks from hell!

Josh don't piss me off like thou doust for Jacob. Just find a place and then come into the story. Satanic monks. Way to go little buddy. Way to go.

hey camel eater im a camel so EAT ME :upyours:

Nye stared at the blackened branch. "For a minute there ... I thought I ... " he stammered. But before he could seize on the sudden surge of power and knowledge that had been his for a moment, Herletz pawed at his feet, shattering the link.

"Don't be silly, I'm not Master," Nye told his companion. "Master is -- oh, no! No!" The scream would have torn his throat, if he had not remembered all at once that he must not remember. Yet it was all clear to him again: the black space, the Entity who had held him in thrall, the unknown but surely terrible message. He turned to Finula, the big sister who would surely help him; to Marriott, a stranger, but a kind one.

They turned away from him. No, they were just looking away, down the road, where an indistinct figure was limping towards them.

"It's him!" Finula was saying. "Marriott, I don't know what he is, but he's dangerous! I saw him before, in the mists, and he had a book! Don't let him come so close!"

But the figure was upon them.

Daggud smiled softly and sat down. The body he was in began to shake and cry out as he a scream tore from his throat. His flesh fell away revealing Daggud his dark form looking at the pile of ashes at his feet and kicks them away.

"Well that's enough of that old bag of bones. You folks need to get moving soon. My master would prefer you alive and there are many," he turned his head looking around his voice becoming much deeper and richer taking on a tone that suggested chestnuts and oak "undesirable elements on this path." The words kept going thinning out as his words wrapped around each of the assembled's minds forcing their eyes to close a little as they swayed falling into his grasp. "Leave soon after your sleep. There will be no sun on your path. No light to guide your way. Only me." The ashes that had once been Tynler's flesh drifted upward wrapping around him as he took on a warm smile again as their memoried were tampered with making them remember Tynler as a good little monk boy.

"So friends what's next?"