Planting the Staff
18th of February 2007 A.D.
No wood was ever cut to make that staff, nor carved into shape or polished with lacquer black, that's not a staff, just the shape of one, the story of one, a faerie's working carved from chaos or maybe it's a faerie itself, hard to say with something old and long grown into the fullness of its tale black. Huh... there's that word again. Black-story-staff...
Blackstaff.
Most things though, even if they are made by the fey don't spin their names into the world by mere presence. It's the spinning that finally lodges the memory loose, the old woman with iron teeth who lives in a cottage in the woods just past Nowhere. How on Earth did the Council get Mother Winter's staff and what the heck did they pay her? Briefly, very briefly you consider the possibility that it might have been stolen, but then you recall Edinburgh isn't buried under an ice sheet. It's not beyond the bounds of imagination that some clever wizard might have stolen the staff in such a way as to ward off vengeance, men can be a bit mad at the best of times and mages more than most, but dangle such a stolen treasure in the halls of an institution and you open a thousand doors for Winter's hand to creep through.
Does Meave know? You wonder. She'd probably tell you just to show off if you asked her the right way.
By the time you ask that last question the staff is gone and McCoy is holding his regular focus, carved with runes not unlike Harry's if with a finer hand for wood carving.
"We must find the source, end it before..." Ancient Mai says as another tremor hits, hard enough to unbalance a few of the younger wizards.
"Harry's on it and Donald the team we sent to Tres Fronteras. We should start scying for those that don't show up. Warlocks know the jig's up after today one way or the other and that's the worst kind of warlock to deal with."
The old woman gives him a long, meaningful look, the kind of meaning that's willfully not hidden from onlookers.
'You're suggesting the cautious approach?' it seems to say.
Tiffany clears her throat. "Given the introduction that misbegotten spawn of a goat and a mutt's bone pile gave me I might as well offer what counsel I can. This would be a very fruitful time to throw
coins down gutters if one should find one's self inside the wards possessing one. How likely is that."
"Before today I would have said impossible," Ancient May says. "Alas there are other things I would have said impossible before this day."
More wizards were starting to trickle into the hall, some of them wounded, some of them carrying dead comrades, savaged, bloody. A poor approximation of a vampire attack, you think numbly, but then they wouldn't need perfect would they? Just good enough to kill.
The White Council is starting to rally around the two Senior Council Members present. What do you do?
[] Give an account of what you know of the traitors to help with the scrying
[] You are a lot faster than the wizards, maybe you can still catch up to Lydia and the others
[] Use your Crown to see if Tiffany's suspicion about the Denarians is right. True Chaos might serve them, but if you can find one of them alone it might also serve you
[] Write in
OOC: You now know what the Blackstaff is at a deep mystical level... and still do not know what the Blackstaff the posting is. High cosmic insight low politics, but then as soon as you mention the name to Carlos or Harry they will tell you, though the latter may have feelings on the matter.