Sorcerer's Snare
18th of February 2007 A.D.
The pair Lydia managed to 'save' for a value of the word so miserly as to be almost an insult could not be more mismatched. One is a large mustachioed man, his robes stained with soot and burned around the edges, the other a woman of middling years, her long grey hair tied back in an intricate braid. The only thing alike about them is their eyes. You don't like looking in their eyes, but you do. That's how Mom and Dad taught you to talk to people and they deserve this much. "I won't take up much of your time. Do any of you know where Wizard LaFortier and the Merlin are. Wizard Peabody indicated that he had bound the former to his life with magic."
"I don't know what Samuel did, I don't know what he can do," the portly man, 'Honorius', someone behind you whispers, starts, his voice ragged. "And as to what his Master can do I am not sure it can be known, but Lucio, she was sent to kill the Merlin once Samuel has gotten him out of out hair. He didn't say in so many words but it was understood. The wardens, the young one's, it really is quite day, but they wouldn't listen. They were to be used as a distraction. With the leadership of the Council thrown into doubt and Ebenezer dead we were to do a purge of your own under the guise of hunting Arthur's killers, sharp-tongued Momus abroad and loose."
"What the fuck's a Momus?" you hear Harry and to be honest you agree.
"Satire personified in Aesop's Fables, I assume he meant irony," Lydia answers reflexively... causing him to flinch. What on Earth had gone on between the two of them.
"He set her on fire," Sophia informs you, the memory of the deed riding the words.
Shit! Lydia's fine, that's clear as day, but Harry's peace of mind is a different matter. You almost wish Tiffany was back in his head where she could force him to listen to sense.
The wizard does not answer, instead he whispers. "All for nothing, all for nothing... I guess he was right about that part at least."
"What part?" Morgan dons the interrogator's manner the same way he draws his sword, with direct and without flourish, without wasted effort.
"We'll die fast, you'll die slow. Nothing is forbidden, everything is forsaken. Really it was always unlikely to work, just more likely than doing
nothing."
"It?" you press, though not too hard.
"Stearing the council into a new role... or maybe I should say it's old role. They don't want to kill the world, not really, well most of
Them don't and the rest could be mollified with sacrifices, sent dreaming into the long dark. But they would need priests, attendants."
Like the Starborn, the thought flashes through your mind in and instant. Just like Shaw even the inner circle had a story where they were the heroes. Doesn't everyone? They thought they would be priests and herald of the rising Old Ones.
Someone snaps their fingers, Tiffany.
What...?
"That is what's in it for what's her name, the one who held a knife to your throat?" Before Harry can answer she finishes. "Kumori, she wanted to end suffering, to end death. There is really no way a god of the Darkhallow would be powerful enough to affect the fundamental laws of the universe, but if the Outside is no longer Outside..."
"Then we are all of us unmade in our essence and something new and unspeakable is born from the cauldron of our blood," Wizard Mai cuts in, not that your friend lets that stop her.
"Now that the obvious has been spoken... I meant to say that was her hook. Transgression and freedom on the one hand, salvation on t he other, be it from the evils of this world, or from the supposed darkness of the age that is to come, the same one they are ushering in."
"Where did the Merlin go? Why wasn't he at headquarters?" Morgan asks the woman, Rebeca Mortimer, drawing from the list of Crown-spied traitors.
She just looks at him blankly.
"Where did the son of a bitch send Lucio to? Where is Arthur?
Answer me!" There's more than anger in his voice, more than he'd like to show: fear and pain.
McCoy puts a hand on his shoulder, as though to restrain him, though something tells you it's more there for support, to remind him that he's not alone.
Honorius thankfully is still up to talking, indeed something tells you he might keep talking even if all of you left, offering his confession to a blank wall: "Paris, they should all be in Paris now, it was tricky, but we managed to convince Arthur that we had things under control here, we had to kill... it doesn't matter now, Sacrifices had to be made, but we convinced him things were under control here and he had to go to Paris.
That, we got him to believe was where the heart of the rebellion lay. He did not take much convincing, what Englishman would need to be convinced long that there is something foul afoot in France?" He laughs though the sound seems to pain him. "Then we sent in the Wardens after him. I do not know if they are in thrall or if they had been made to believe the Merlin is a traitor. It does not really matter in the end, they were meant to die there, along with at least some of the Paris circle for authenticity."
"He went by the Ways?" You try to work out in your head how long that would take, but it's pointless without knowing a lot more about where that particular path winds through.
"Yes and they followed him likewise."
You look at Lydia, but she shakes her head. 'That's all he knew', the expression seems to say.
So you have wardens of the White Council hunting down its leader and his guard and a Denarian still loose in the Hidden Halls, or at least you hope he's still here. Otherwise he's done what he came to do and no matter what that is, it would end ill.
What do you do?
[] Split up again
-[] Even harder
[] Time to call in some back up, maybe Luccio at least is still on the ways where the fey could stop her
-[] Call Winter
-[] Call Summer
[] Deal with Namshiel first, Paris can wait
[] Write in
OOC: Finally did it. I am scared to find out how many errors are in this one, but I hope you guys enjoy anyway. Sorry again for how late this is.