Green Flame Rising (Exalted vs Dresden Files)

[DragonParadox]

Of Demons and Dogs ​

2th of February 2007 A.D.

"Well... hmm you know how you said it would take a wizard to figure out derivatives and integrals?"

Rosie looks at Pods as though she's waiting for a punchline, slowly she realizes the truth is the punchline, though before she can say anything your other self continues. "Also I am telepathic, persuasive and can kick ass when I need to. Can't really show you most of that stuff, it'd be a bit weird to start glowing green in a public park."

You stand in a hall arched in stone and brass before you a living bonfire of bale-fire and dread purpose, wearing your face. Less she is than you at your height, no crown upon her brow, no demon vizier made a sword in her heart, but she is you that is apart, one of half a dozen iterations born from burning sands by breath and intention divided. You are One, One is All and All are Many.

She-who-is-you does not mention the darker powers: stealing memories with the rising of a new dawn, the veil of seduction that makes Dancer In Glass Shadows as capable of twisting minds as she is of sealing away compulsion. The power that Ishtar had given to Arlene after long and fervent prayer one of your other selves had simply been 'born' with.

Only it's not really birth it is Molly you think as you listen to yourself having a conversation with one of your oldest friends, as you watch Rosie relax into the notion. A name and a pinch of sand... not quite clay is it, but if one were to add a bit of blood to make it stick and then fired it n fires deep and secret.

Pods gives you a look, one that kind of reminds you of Mom, but even more so. You only think Mom knows every thought that passes though your head, your splintered incarnations definitely do. It should probably feel a lot less comfortable than it is.

"...and one of us can turn into a dragon she's pretty sure."

"How the heck can you be pretty sure of that?" Rosie asks, trying not to raise her voice in the middle of a park filled with nannies, parents and kids who it is known can hear the word 'dragon' well beyond what should be their hearing range.

"It seemed inappropriate to call on that part of ourselves lightly. Dragons are mighty because they are necessary, they are not necessary because they are mighty."

"For the record you are not allowed the wise old mentor you are not allowed to use the wise old mentor voice..." Rosie starts.

"Says who?" you interrupt with a smile.

"Says the person who remembers that time we saw Wes Craven at a restaurant and you got so keyed up you almost stole a hat off some guy's head so you could get an autograph, remember? I was the one who thought of the lipstick and the five Dollar bill?"

"Too bad that..."

"Huh..." Maker of Immaculate Relics Untarnished who had been lingering, close by in case two Mollies were a strain to Rosie, a third one too much. "I could probably fix that. Unsmudge the smudge. I think we'd like that." Unlike you or Pods, Miru is sporting the kind of puffy bundled up look that usually marks out someone from Florida or California, some place where snow is a semi-mythical occurrence.

"OK, I'm going to let you guys get comfortable I've got to go..."

***​

"Dog seeking?" Harry sounds so dubious you'd think that you and Lydia has just proposed taking Mouse to Hell... which OK, he probably could handle Hell and you had been there not so long ago, but that was no reason to assume you had alternative motives.

"Dog shopping sounds strange," Lydia offers gently. "It is not as though money is an object. I'm looking for companions to invest with something of myself, ones who are willing and able to help me in my apportioned task. Alas not all of us can duplicate ourselves." She gives you a sly look under her lashes.

Speaking of Lash... she probably heard that one, the sound of a plate shattering echoes from the kitchen.

"So you know how you wanted me to meet the Alphas? Just pass by there on Wednesday and I'll explain once I'd done OK?"

Just then Mouse brushes past Harry, tail wagging, gives you a very searching look, sneezes and turns to Lydia, the obvious question in his eyes.
"I'm not looking for fighters necessarily. This power is... protean, as long as the foundation is of the hound at the gates the towers upon which it is built can be manifold. Really I am interested in a boon companion, someone willing to back me up and hmm... advise me. I can be a bit impulsive sometimes."

Having dealt with whatever it was she had broken Tiffany sashays into view her neutral expression speaking volumes. "I can gift them wit that you might offer them subtler powers. Molly, do you have any plans...?" You shake your head. As with Olivia the gifts you give must be paired with a vow to to balance out the weight of darkness within. These are to be Lydia's companions, you're just along to help.

"I already have kids to watch this month you know," Harry says wearily. "Dogs are one thing, I can deal with magic dogs, but if I have to see one more of those monkey demons..."You and Tiffany burst out laughing, leaving Lydia bemused, at least until Mouse with Burny's help fills her in on the story of the peculiar kinds of demons his kidnapper has seen fit to conjure to cover his escape.

"On my word be it, we will not be meddling with any monkeys." The daughter of Arwan manages to maintain an admirably straight face, at least until the door closes.

Does Molly has any suggestion for what kind of dog Lydia should get?

Note: Companions of the Hunter (••••)
The Exigent may lay her blessing on an Animal she associated with, permanently empowering it as a part of her hunting party.
System: Choose a friendly Animal that falls either under Speaker to Crows and Hounds or that is a horse and spend 5 Essence while spending at least 2 hours paining its fur or feathers with magical symbols in woad.
The Animal gains 30 XP that it can freely spend on attributes and skills (including on greater Intelligence) and (5+Essence) points it can spend on Special Advantages (From Gods and Monsters).
A creature can only benefit from this effect once and the Exigent can only have (Essence*2) Animals blessed like this at the same time.

[] A mid-sized breed of the kind that would not be remarked on in the city

[] A larger dog, the kind which might also help protect Lydia, a complement to her wooden soldiers

[] Try to find and bargain with a spirit-kin dog with Mouse's help, though scions will have their own purposes

[] Write in

OOC: Sheets for SGI clones will be posted over the course of this week. I have to figure out a formal first, especially since some of the gifts means they have several forms with different stats and abilities.

 

[DragonParadox]

Seeing Down Sundered Paths ​

2th of February 2007 A.D.

"What about your father's dogs?" you ask after a moment. Maybe some of them had been like Mouse's family and left their own mortal lineage for Lydia to reconnect to.

But your friend's expression darkens as she slows. "The Cŵn Annwn great-hearted loud speaking, soft-nearing are not now as they were. Some passed into the Winterlands and when my father left the service of Mab they could not come with him, alone they were to perish or to find new masters. The Erlking, lord of the Wyld Hunt calls some of them still by name now to his liking changed. If they would still know me... if they would know me at all." She shakes her head. "What use to them the daughter of the one who abandoned them?"

"Sorry, didn't meant to bring up painful memories," you apologize. I should have thought there was a reason why Arwan did not have his dogs with him.

"It's quite alright, you didn't do anything Molly," Lydia runs a hand to untangle hair that doesn't need it, more tangling than untangling. "Father made his choices, for which I cannot but be glad since had he chosen differently I wouldn't be here at all. Now it's my turn to make my own, the road to walk, the company to keep."

"Some passed," Tiffany repeats after a moment. "What about the ones who didn't come with him into the service of Faerie?"

"Others there were who loved the moors and the marshlands, the green rolling hills and mountains tall, too much to pass from the world..." Still speaking slowly Lydia looks off into the middle distance, or maybe better to say the far distance, trying to work out words in English for something that had never before been put in this tongue. "So came they spoke to the doves which they had long spared their bite for they made a poor meal and thus they begged in turn: "Go now to David son of Non who was daughter of Ceredig King son of Cunedda King and tell him that if he gives us leave to stay in these lands we will give him warning of the place and hour of his death that he may know when to make haste in his work of which he has been so diligent. The hounds went to the doves and the doves to David, but he only laughed and said 'I have done but little things and others have seen me do then and they will do them when I am gone down the path by fathers walked before me'. I need not know the hour of my death. But the hounds were wise, for they knew that like them men ran in packs. Said they to the doves and the doves to David: 'what of those who come after you, would they not wish warning to hear from hearth into graveyard that time now is near?' David thought on this and he found it wise, went he and prayed to his god. Ever after the corpse candles shone the moors and the marshlands, the green rolling hills and mountains tall."

Lydia Loses 1 Essence -> Now at 6/7 (Intelligence Excellency)

Wait, David, Wales... "Saint David!" You and Tiffany exclaim at the same time.

"So he's now counted, the friend to the doves," Lydia agrees, still speaking softly, but no longer lost in recollections of centuries past and places far off the grey Chicago winter. "Just what kind of bargains the hounds that remained made with him Father never knew, though I guess we could go and ask them."

"We could do more than ask," Tiffany sniffs.

At your answering not-quite-glare she proffers a expansive shrug that old movies taught you is French. "What, you don't think any of them has grown bored of being a roster for when mortals are about to croak? Why shouldn't they get to change their minds after fifteen hundred odd years?"

You open your mouth resolved to inform her that none of you could not undo the work of a saint even should you wish it... and then you remember Amoracchius clanking to the ground, ripped from your father's hand by a twist of brass and Essence, truth like a bundle of thorns pricking the tips of your fingers.

"Stop that!" Lydia scolds. "I just wanted to get a dog not make Molly feel bad."

"I don't feel bad," you hurry to answer. "Just... powerful in a way I hadn't considered before, at least not for very long."

"A way we all are powerful," the once-Fallen Angel points out. "That line you are drawing in your head right now it is as arbitrary as one a child might etch on the sand with a stick. One thing I know for certain, spirit hounds aren't angels of any kind. Whatever deal David cut it was not by..." She stops blinking violently then forces the word out almost in a gasp "God's Will." She smiles then, like she'd been skydiving and just pulled the rip-chord on her parachute. "At most it was done with His approval, which isn't what you'd call unusual."

Lydia looks not a little impressed that Tiff had taken the plunge, but she still crosses her arms. "I don't want to make Molly uncomfortable. If she says to steer clear of the Canwyll Corph then so we shall. We'll speak to the Earlking and see if any of his goblin dogs are minded to come back to the world of the living, or if they brought forth scions in their lineage."

Which hounds does Molly think they should seek?

[] The Goblin Hounds of the Earlking, you do not fear the Master of the Wild Hunt

[] The Canwyll Corph of Wales, Tiffany's right, they deserve to change their mind if you can uncover a way for it

[] Both, all the more likely that Lydia will find some way to bring one back home

[] Write in

OOC: I did not use a Crown question since Lydia rolled well enough to know at least the general answer so if you go after one, the other or both you still have the Crown on call.

 

[DragonParadox]

Travel Plans ​

2th of February 2007 A.D.

"So... how do we get to Wales?" you ask after a moment, the smile on your face belying lingering worries.

"Plane!" Lydia's answer is instant and loud. Lowering the volume just a little she adds. "You are a little too fond of the Otherworld's roads, Molly. Humans did not learn how to hurl steel cylinders filled with pressurized air across the Atlantic just so we can take the same roads they did back when wood and canvas was the best they could do."

"You're not making it sound very safe..." you point out, but Lydia's still going.

"Father would only fly as a last resort since it's the Cold Queen's domain and never with me. I'd like to see what it's like alright?" Sometimes it's easy to forget Lydia'a age and then there are times like this when it shines though almost painfully clear.

With the weekend coming up and Lydia paying for everyone's tickets Olivia also decides to come with, make a bit of a holiday out of it... hopefully one that works out better than the last attempted girl's outing.

Alas having four more of you wandering around and getting into mischief does not make Mom and Dad any less concerned about the trip. They too have good memories, but you promise to keep in touch and remind them that you can get back as fast as they can click play on the right song.

All that arrangements are going great, that is until you hear walking in the front door: "You are not eighteen yet and you're not old enough to go no matter who's paying the tickets! Where would you even be going? Around Wales, that's very descriptive, looking for 'corpse candles', that sounds perfectly safe then! Do you have any idea the kind of danger your sister got into last month?"

"Mom..." you can hear the start of a whine in Daniel's voice. It's not hard to guess what's going on. Lydia had decided to invite him along, probably reasoning something like 'he might have a chance to test out those martial arts he's been learning'.

"No, you don't know and you should thank God that you do..."

"They went to Yomi Wan, to the Fortress of Perdition's edge to free a prisoner who had been chained there unfairly and loose hope upon that land."

Keen observer of Mom's moods that you are you're pretty sure those words in that tone are just the wrong thing to say. Three, two... You never get as far as 'one'.

"And that makes you want to go!" The windows are not actually vibrating in their frames you assure yourself, it just feels like it. "Don't you have a calculus test on Monday?"

There is no way he's getting a word in edgewise, you might though, though that begs the question. Should you take Daniel, true you're not looking for trouble and he has been training., but you are not sure how much. Maybe Burden Everlasting of the Dutiful Sovereign looked it over. You'll have to ask at the next All Molly Meeting on Monday.

What do you do?

[] Daniel tried and he struck out, that's on him now

[] Try to rescue your brother's hopes of a weekend with his girlfriend in Wales

[] Write in

OOC: This is a rather short update, but that's just the nature of the question.

 

[DragonParadox]

Cold Currents ​

2th of February 2007 A.D.

Just on the living room threashold, starring down at the carpet you hesitate. Maybe it is best to just leave him at home. Going to Boston you definitely weren't expecting demon batman. So just don't pull on the threads if any should show up... Usum is too deferment to say anything, but doubt hums at the back of your mind. Send him straight back to Chicago if I feel the urge to start yanking. "Mom we're just going to talk to some spirits who used to ride with Lydia's father..."

As she turns to look at her one can practically see her building a head of steam.

'It's OK, I've got this,' you try to tell Daniel with your eyes. "Who were granted leave to remain on the land by Saint David. They are called canwyll corph, death lights, not for bringing death, but giving warning. They mark when someone's going to die, giving them time to say goodbye. They help people just like we are trying to do. This is just... a job offer."

Name-dropping a saint had taken a bit of the wind out of her sails and she does not seem to doubt it, but you'd left an obvious opening. "Then why didn't her father come back for them? If it was too dangerous for him...."

"Same reason Lydia's never been on a plane in her life, Mab." You sound out the name intentionally for effect. "It was too dangerous for her to fly until last year, just it was too dangerous for her to go to Wales even though she spoke Welsh from the cradle, just like it was too dangerous for her to go to school with other kids. Now she just wants to share that..." you sigh, mostly-but-not-entirely faking it. "I think she might be going to a little too fast, trying to make up for all the years she feels she lost." That is mostly the demon pacts not wanting to find the Hounds, but not something you'll be sharing with Mom. "I think she wants to show Daniel where she's from, not where she was born but you know... like how Izzy wants to go visit Ireland after high school."

Reminded that this isn't just a Daniel's magical girlfriend going to a foreign country to do magic, but also a sixteen year old girl reaching past the limits of a pretty odd and restrictive upbringing.

"Where are you planning on going?" That is still a 'you' that very much does not include Daniel, but she is asking. "You said something about a swamp"

"The Teifi Marshes. Check out what I found online, this is really cool..." Through Clippy's intercession the murmuration of thousands upon thousands of starlings, the rustling of the leaves below. "It's peaceful, I have to say I could use some peace and quiet after last month."

After you successfully weather the weight of her bullshit detector, nothing of what you said is a lie she sauys the words Daniel must have been praying for. "I'll talk to your Dad about it and we'll decide."

She knows and you know and Daniel knows too that your dad would have backed her with this Wales thing, in fact she might have spoken to him already, but he's cover so she doesn't have to admit to having been talked around.

As the two of you head upstairs to make sure his pasport is where he left it you mutter: "You owe me, bigtime."

To which your brother nods fervently and asks: "How do you keep doing that?"

"Magic, I make myself supernaturally good at talking," you admit.

"Makes sense," he nods and neither of you question it.

"Speaking of supernatural talkers..." You start to explain Tiffany, knowing that if you didn't she would at whatever time and in whichever way she'd find the most entertaining. You did want to get involved with this brother mine, no one promised comfortable answers, just true ones.

***​

3rd of February 2007 A.D.

There is no direct flight from O'Hare to Cardiff but there is an overnight one to Amsterdam that only comes with a 90 minutes layover. So you share around some of your 'special coffee' before you get on the plane, before you get in the airport really, you do not want the TSA in the same building as the stuff and you are in the air by 9 PM.

"Oof I'm not sure if this would be the worst or the best place to die," Lydia mutters under her breath as you are killing time in a half empty waiting room.

"Because of how liminal it is?" Daniel asks, perking up, to which Lydia gives a very proud smile. 'See how clever my boyfriend is,' the expression seems to say.

Midnight passes over the Atlantic as. with a little encouragement from Lydia Daniel talks about his training in Fivefold Howling Style. Half grueling real world exercises, half holodeck-training under the influence of subtle arcane algorithms Daniel had managed in two months what some do not manage with years or even decades of training, he's unlocked his Chi and mastered the first step in the Way of Howling, the House of Domination concerned with channeling the raw power akin to Great Storms into devastating, but exhausting elemental attacks. Of course he would go for that.

"Just for the record trying to become the rock so I can punch bullets out of the air... that's hard," he informs you.

"Ye don't say." You start to mock punch him, but when he catches your fist for just a moment, his skin is even colder than yours.

Daniel Unlocks his Chi 10/10

Daniel Gains Howling •: Icy Palm Strike
In the first move of the Howling, the disciple calls on the foundation of the world, the ice beneath.
Spend a Yin Chi and roll Stamina+Brawl or Melee (DC 7) as part of a normal attack. If the attack hits (doesn't need to deal damage, just succeed), the icy grip of this power reduces the dice for the foe's next attack by the successes.

As you are getting your bags off the plane Tiffany stops you. "Do you want me to help with that? Your brother I mean, not offer him a pact of course, but just let him skip all the physical conditioning."

"You realize you sound like a stereotypical villain in a PSA right?" you ask her.

"Of course, that just makes it sound more appealing," she laughs.

Briefly you consider asking if the Denarians had something to do with anti-drug PSAs being as bad as they are, then you decide against it. Some things you're better off not knowing.

Should Tiffany offer to max out Daniel's Physical stats at 5?

[] Yes, if your brother's going to be out there looking for trouble you want him to have all the advantages he can get

[] No, 'power comes from bargains' is not a lesson you want Daniel learning even if it is harmless this time

[] Write in

OOC: And there we have it, Daniel is very, very technically a magical practitioner, he cannot touch magic outside of himself, but he can turn his own chi into supernatural cold in roundabout imitation of Molly.

 

[DragonParadox]

Left Side Driving​

3rd of February 2007 A.D.

The sound of milk, chocolate and ice stops abruptly as Tiffany looks up at Daniel with a small sharp smile playing on her lips. "You can ask you know whatever on your mind. Normally when a man looks at me that intently I assume it's not answers they're looking for, but I don't think that's you Daniel Carpenter."

Your brother looks by turn, flattered, flustered and just a little bit guilty as he ducks his head, trying to hide his eyes in his plate before giving it up for a bad idea.

"Why are people evil?" he blurts out, then corrects himself. "Why do they do evil?"

"Ah moral philosophy," she laughs, but the tone makes it clear she's laughing with him, not at him, like all the world's a joke and he's in on it. "the usual way to answer that is with a question, 'what is evil' maybe, but Socrates was a bit of a bore, so let's don't and say I did. By people I assume you mean mortals?"

"Yeah, lets start with humans," your brother says leaning over the table a little. He does not normally do that, not since coming into his full height, but Tiffany looks anything but intimidated.

You lock eyes with Lydia, she rolls hers. One can almost see her making a mental note to teach him to be more on his guard.

"Because they think that in some way they are doing good," the Fallen angel answers. "I'm not going to say self-consciously evil humans do not exist. They do, but that is taxing on the mind and spirit, more so even than being willfully good I have come to believe."

"So what, it's easier to be good than evil?" Doubt hangs heavy in his voice.

"No." Tiffany shakes her head, hair somehow slipping artfully out of her ponytail, a halo of gold framing her face. "It is easier to think of yourselves as good than evil. A human is not a rational creature most of the time, they are a rationalizing one, storytellers beyond compare and what better story that one in which you are cast as the hero? Or the victim, that works too. When both are twined to singular purpose there is very little one will not do for the cause, whatever that may be."

"What about people who just want power though?" Daniel presses after a few seconds of thoughts. "Just so they can get more power and..."

"Nonsense. That is a caricature." Tiffany interrupts him. "The power-hungry are driven, to their minds, by their own worthiness and they think they are worthy of power due to how wise they judge that they would use it. The worst of the worst you can imagine on some level want power for the exact same reason you do, they want to use it to change the world. Accept that or 'presumption' shall be carved upon thy tombstone."

"No it won't," Lydia says quietly firmly as she takes Daniel's hand. It's hard to tell if she means the carving or the notion of him ever dying. He turns to her so fast he almost falls out of his seat. Apparently it had never occurred to him until now that he's playing the part of Eurydice to her Orpheus.

For her part Olivia looks uneasy, thinking on all those layers behind the skin of the world where she has not yet walked or maybe just at the sight of someone so young speaking with such conviction on matters of the heart. How to explain you wonder that Lydia isn't quite a child of the twenty first century? Perhaps the journey will do it for you.

Tiffany clears her throat. "In the interests of not treading into the deeper places of the underworld again anytime soon I offer you Daniel Carpenter not a bargain, for I do not expect to be paid, a favor, strength, agility, resilience. It should make that training of yours faster and lighter on the ribs..." Daniel looks guilty again though she does not give him time to deflect. "Yes I noticed the way your hand went to the side when recounting the less successful episodes."

To his credit though your brother does rally. "You do not expect payment, or you don't expect payment from me?" In the meantime he gives you the 'how crazy is this?' look. To which you tip your hand, glass of coke and all to one side and then the other. Your call little brother.

"Only if one were to count goodwill as payment," the once-Shadow laughs. "I'd rather not or I'd be in a rather deep hole."

"She's on the level," you add aloud,m no hint of a doubt in your mind. Descending into hell with someone makes for a great test.

"What do I have to do?" He's putting on a brave face, but he seems just a little freaked out when Tiffany just flips over her left hand and places on the table palm side up.

"A handshake would do, but I am trying not to play into stereotypes," she makes a joke of it and that's all he needs to reach out.

For the next few minutes there's hardly any sign that anything odd is going on, a breeze out of nowhere blowing through Tiffany's hair, a few twitches on Daniel's arm and chest then Lash opens her eyes. "Done."

Tiffany loses 3 Faith -> Now at 0/3
Tiffany loses 3 Willpower -> Now at 5/8
Daniel's Stamina, Strength and Dexterity Increased to 5!

"Huh, you don't..." Lydia stops and reassesses, for a rather long time in your opinion . "You look a little different, but not much."

"I do excellent work," Tiffany sniffs and finishes her slurry like nothing out of the ordinary had happened as Olivia gives an audible sigh of relief. On some level she must have expected something like her own empowering.

The flight from Amsterdam to Cardiff catches the first rays of dawn in its windows before depositing the five of you in the rarely morning of that city, just more American tourists, among dozens, maybe hundreds of others, sun sparking fiercely off steel. Of course most people who just came off a thirteen hour combined flight are not in a fit state to rent a car for a hundred mile journey across the length of south Wales, but that's just details.

Spoiler: Cardiff Airport

"Don't suppose you'll let me drive?" your brother tries his luck.

"Didn't you just get your license last week?" you point out dubiously. "I don't think you're ready to drive on the other side of the road,"

"Oh let me try something..." Lydia whistles, a sound that starts off normal enough, but starts to wonder around the minor keys as it fades as though an unseen orchestra had picked it up from the edge of forgetting. The silence had not even the time to settle that the shadow of a large black car rolls in, its silver edges molten bright.

Lydia uses 2 Essence -> Jade Talisman at 1/3 (Carriage of the Ankou)

Spoiler: Carriage of the Ankou

"I think you should be able to drive it without sitting in my lap," Lydia says absently as she opens the driver's side door. Daniel's expression makes it clear his feelings on the prospect are far from negative.

But contrary to his fears you keep silent, teasing ammunition this good should be saved up not shot on the spot.

"Other people, including the police are going to have a hard time noticing anything odd with this car," Lydia explains. Because it's Death's car and Death belongs on the road. Neither you nor Tiffany add that.

"Er... why is there blood on the steering wheel?" your brother asks instead.

"Oh, ignore that I had to anoint it with a bit of blood so that it would recognize that you're allowed to use it," comes the airy reply. "Come on."

Thankfully Daniel drives well enough down the... M4, according to the signs, that the car's peculiar form of stealth is not tested. Other than the odd spat over the radio dial, this car is old school, nothing odd happens until the fog rolls in from the sea and Daniel turns on the headlights. Where the pale light touches the car in front, a green Toyota, the metal is streaked with silver splotches.

"What the...?" Daniel asks wide-eyed.

"Someone died in that car," Lydia explains subdued. "Not a proper haunting or the ectoplasm would be more pervasive." She frowns. "Someone died in the trunk."

What do you do?

[] Trail the strange car

[] Continue on to the Teifi Marshes

[] Write in

OOC: Some really impresive rolling from Tiffany this time around.

 

[DragonParadox]

Of Judgement Mortal and Divine ​

3rd of February 2007 A.D.

Click Clippy catches the license plate. "How did the hand of death touch metal and wheels?" You pull at the threads of the world and at their edges you find... A blond girl crowned with flowers, the flash of a seductive smile, a moment's hesitation as she climbs into the back of the car, some flash of warning ignored. She needs the money. In the driver's seat a thin balding man still on the sunny side of middle age and unremarkable for it except for the unwholesome glint in his eye. He means to take more than is on offer. Everything.

Lost 1 Essence -> Now at 14/15 (Crown Question)

"Serial killer, just a guy.." you get out. Somehow that's worse than if you'd found a vampire or a ghoul. Why is it worse?

As soon as the words are out of your mouth the green car takes a turn and Daniel turns off the highway to follow him. "I've got his plates, we'll get his name in a few minutes."

"Huh?" It's only now you realize your brother had never seen you hack anything, more specifically he has not seen your friends carve their way though firewalls like they aren't even there.

"Chris Halliwell 42." An image flashes on the small screen, stripped, sterile and official, a driver's license, but undeniably the same guy.

"We can just call him into the local police..."

Lydia glares though the mist, her left hand twitching up like she's pulling on a puppet's strings. "There's no body in there. Someone definitely died in that trunk, maybe more than one with what you are saying, but the body isn't there for mortal investigators to find."

"So what, we just let him go?" Olivia asks, as horrified at the prospect as you are, not that you are planning to.

Tiffany gives a long suffering sigh. "I can get him to confess, I'm going to need to borrow a recorder though."

To her credit Olivia remembers who she's talking to, the first to ask the question all the rest of you are thinking. "How? He is not just going to admit to murder because you asked him nicely?"

"Humans are social creatures, even those who would step so far beyond society's norms desire recognition. They want to be known, to be feared, especially by their victims. I'm almost certainly near enough his type to get him in the right frame of mind with a bit of planning."

"So what, you're just going to use yourself as a lure?" For his part Daniel isn't thinking about who he's talking to right now, just the idea of her putting herself in danger.

"Why bother?" Lydia cuts in. "Look we can just overtake him on a stretch of road with no other cars I strike him though the window with a bolt, the coroner's going to rule it a stroke. A stroke it shall be, only of the more antique sort."

"You can't just kill someone like that!" Daniel protests automatically. "There are laws..."

"And rules and regulations and time passed in which he might kill again," she interrupts him, expression darkening. "Better that the guilty should be set free than that the innocent is bound. A good system, for fallible mortal justice. The judgement of Molly's insight is not fallible, this man has killed for the thrill of it as Tiffany has said and he will kill again. Why should justice walk the long winding path of mortal instrumentality?"

"I'm pretty sure the UK doesn't have the death sentence." Olivia breaks the uneasy silence that had fallen inside the car.

Lydia opens her mouth to argue, stops then takes an unexpected tack. "If you really want to keep him alive and Molly is fine with it we could just send him away. To the City of Laws I mean or some other place in Sanctuary, maybe they will find some use for him like those Vampires you caught."

"That's not the same..." Daniel starts, but his girlfriend cuts him off.

"You are right, it's not, Red Feasters need blood though they do not specifically need to kill after the first time it is difficult for them to stop. The man up ahead just enjoys ripping women's lives away untimely."

What do you do?

[] Tiffany's plan, get a confession to hand to the police

[] Lydia's Plan, Hunter's Bolt through the window to induce stroke like symptoms

[] Vanish him into Sanctuary, they have plenty of jail cells to keep him

[] Write in

OOC: For anyone wondering the way Lydia checked if there was a body in that car at the moment was attempt to use Command the Dead in that general direction.

 

[DragonParadox]

Secrets Burned True ​

3rd of February 2007 A.D.

"We can't just make him vanish, or kill him, the victims' families deserve closure..." you begin to argue, but before you can get any further Lydia 'finishes' the sentence:

"While they are still alive, I did not think of that, apologies."

Olivia gives her a odd look, though you notice not Daniel. Your brother was apparently used to the idea that his girlfriend thought of death as a curtain to be freely parted this way and that, just not the part where she could kill someone because in restitution for crimes without a second look.

Glancing down at the ID you ask again: Where can more information of his misdeeds be found?

The answer you get is more through than you want: a trophy cache, ponds tucked out of the way, so many ponds, now filled with the rotting bodies of victims, disposed of like so much refuse once their killed had taken everything he wanted from them. No, you wish you didn't have to remember, but knowing is useful, it's going to put this bastard away.

Lost 1 Essence -> Now at 13/15 (Crown Question)

Taking a swig of water to clear the phantom taste out of your mouth you turn to Tiffany to explain what you had seen. "Do you still want to...?"

"Yes, information is only as good as the police's willingness to check the site. It is not beyond the realm of possibility that if presented with that series of locations that they will chalk it down to a false lead. After all how would anyone but the murderer know in that situation? Add a recording to that and it suddenly becomes a good bit more credible."

"I'm coming with you."

After another fifteen miles or so the car ahead pulls into a gas station you speed on past so Tiffany, disguised to the full extent of her considerable skills and preparations as dark haired brown eyed girl in a battered hoodie gets out to play the hitchhiker . Sealed inside a perfume bottle in her purse you do not see what happens next, but though the glass you can hear it. He tries to turn small-talk into flirting, she pretends not to get it, he pushes, she refuses, he pushes harder, the car speeds up, she pretends to cave and then something... odd happens, he just offers her money for sex, a hundred pounds which you think is a lot. It's almost like a canned response. Confirming she's a 'whore' in his head. It is perhaps a good thing that Broken Seeker is half a world away because if he were outside that car door you'd be tempted to throw him a snack.

By the time he Halliwell pulled out the knife Tiffany slips into the role his warped perceptions had assigned her with in infernal grace, begging, bargaining, telling him he is a good man. The dam breaks, he's talking faster now, a kind of performative cruelty meant to terrify what seems a particularly timid victim. Had he been a bit less enthralled at this fantasy-come-to-life he might have wondered why a woman who should have been petrified with fright was articulate enough to ask questions with the precision of a skilled investigator. She gets numbers dates methods of killing and picking his victims, though only a handful of names. He didn't care about the names.

"That's enough." Tiffany cuts him off in a wicked-sharp tone wholly unlike what she had used before.

There's a scuffle and the sound of a knife being dropped as the car swerves off the road.

"Whore, I'll rip out your...!" The words cut out with a thump

"Couldn't even hold a knife straight," Tiffany speaks up again, this time to you. "Pity really, I've finally managed to make some improvements to this body and I wanted to see how they would hold up in an actual fight."

Just to be safe she takes the knife. You'll have to remember to throw it in a bog.

***​

Iris is of course more than up to the task of disguising Tiffany's voice in the recording, though you do worry that you'll have to go all the way back to Chicago to burn a CD since none of you had thought to bring a laptop along, but you manage to find an Internet Cafe run by a guy in slacks and a polo shirt who looks like he couldn't give less of a damn if you were copying state secrets as long as you paid him. Disk goes in the nearest mailbox to the appropriate authorities and you're on your way again.

The wildlife preserve proper is small, barely more than a hundred hectares, but it's set in the middle if picturesque Welsh countryside peppered by the kind of small villages whose shape has not changed at least since Victorian times if not longer, the sort of place where everyone knows everyone and you can set your clock and your calendar by particular visitors to the village pub. If ever there was a place one would expect to see old Welsh legends coming down the street it was Cilgerran, though probably not in a facsimile of a Rolls Royce driven by said legend's daughter's American boyfriend. They even have a gothic revival church from the middle of the Nineteenth century, and a ruined castle on a hill, peering out through a blanket a mist that even the afternoon sun doesn't have the power to dispel.

Lydia explains that the hounds she's after rarely show themselves before nightfall so the five of you meander though the village taking in the sights, up to the castle finding it wholly bereft of lingering shades, but your friend has a grand time talking about the history of the area, the long wars between the Norman Baron and Welsh King as the former pressed the latter into the seam, though not without unexpected reverses, heroic stands and twists of fate over hill, stream and copse of trees. "My mother used to love these kinds of stories and she'd have loved even more to see the land that birthed them..."

Your ears practically perk, Lydia rarely talks about her mother and when she does it's only with a vague sense of nostalgia, like she's just another story of her father's.

Then she looks up at the darkening sky, the sun just having slipped behind the hills. "Best not to talk about this at night father says."

What do you do?

[] Ask her to continue, if something does happen you're pretty sure you can take it on

[] Say nothing, continue on into the marshes

[] Write in

OOC: This isn't your last chance to hear about Lydia's mother, but like it says above she doesn't like to talk about it so if you do not take this chance it might take a while.

 

[DragonParadox]

What the Hounds Keep ​

4rd of February 2007 A.D.

While you certainly are not above capital C Curiosity and a good bit harder to kill than any cat ignoring the advice of an ancient Welsh God about what should and should not be spoken of after sunset seems like a bad idea, the kind that ends in violence. So instead as misty day gives way gracefully to a night of cold and fitful winds playing in from the sea the five of you wonder, first on the paths, clear-marked for visitors then on the solid ground where snowdrop, aconite and even daffodil are starting to grow. All around owls hoot and nightjars sing, likely sensing Midnight's intrusion. Strangers, strangers, they call one to the other until once you are well out of sight of the paths Lydia starts letting the pale silver of her light shine through, a new beacon alike onto the old. In a tongue which no mortal had spoken since even the Celts were newcomers and the rings of stone still whole under the moonlight she called out in turn. Before she gave them voice in full your friend had explained their meaning as near as the English Language could not render them:

"You who have sought the Cauldron was stolen
Over sea, over mountain, though sunset golden
Fearing not sword bright not voice or king
From Caer Sindi took wing
Bright noses the waves now to breathe
Prydwen now to catch with thine strong teeth"​

"Who calls, who calls, who calls," the words seem at first echoes of hers, a rustle in the water, a hoot in the trees, at least until you realize that they hadn't been in English and yet you understood... the meaning and the malice. "Pretty little corpse girl come to die. Born thief, made thief, thief is what you've chosen..."

Pale shadows moved at the edge of sight, hunting hounds white and grey, like snow splotched with ask, except for their eyes, red and blood, lolling tongues just as red. "To be, to be, to be."

"We should maybe get out of here..." Daniel starts, though you have no doubt he'd try to be last in any retreat.

"Alas young Daniel we are not moths," Tiffany retorts. "No eyes have we painted on our wings to ward off hunters, no wings at all, guard up and wits about you!"

"You who have hunted, you who have found, you who have pledged to give what you can once the Treasures of Arawn have been put in their place. I speak to you now of the world past thine shores, I speak you softly of what I have learned: The world is changed yet changing still, the tower of six names will not be raised anew as it was, but in the land where a dozen, a score, a hundred towers of metal and false stone are raised a charge I now offer, free as I am."

"Free thou would be as ever lords are," the largest of the hounds declares, "but what of our freedoms who cannot walk where death has not tread? What care have you, by the crown burden even less than thine father?"

More lights now are fathering tens, dozens hundreds, a swarm of pale lights in perilous contemplation..

"Is that what you think of him then? That he left because it was easy and then left again because of some whim?" The words ring with anger, but more they ring with sorrow. "The doors of death are broken and things sneak through the cracks to take bodies untimely and tempt those unwilling to pass. If none should wear the crown of death than forgotten it shall topple into ebon depths until a clawed hand snatches it. I offer you a chance to help and thereby help yourselves to more than a lonely vigil on this narrow island, gusts of the wind that once girdled the world?"

In posture and in manner anger turned to longing, but still the greatest and Eldest said onto the daughter of Death "While prisoners four are still bound under stone so we must guard, until the turning of the world."

"All of you together, four prisoners to keep?" Lydia asks, her voice sweet as sage and wormwood burning.

"Aye for they are mighty. First Llyr Half-Speech, who was imprisoned by Euroswydd, and the second, Mabon son of Modron, and third, Gwair son of Geirioedd. And one who was more exalted than the three of them, was three nights in prison in Caer Oeth and Anoeth, and three nights imprisoned by Gwen Pendragon, and three nights in an enchanted prison under the Stone of Echymeint. This Exalted Prisoner was Arthur. All now are bound before the spoils of Annwfn which they tried to take and we given leave to guard these lands lest they escape."

"So... if we take the nice doggies away King Arthur is liable to return to Britain and what ask for his crown back?" Olivia can't quite hold back a nervous laugh.

"If we take all of them," Lydia points out reasonably. "I ask only for those who are weary of your vigil, of showing yourselves only to the dead and the dying, that again in flesh you shall live."

Lydia loses 1 Essence -> Jade Talisman now at 0/3 (Manipulation Excellency)

The hounds turned and spoke one with another, in no language you or even Lydia could speak. Some there were who wished to take her bargain and they would not be dissuaded but the others did not know what would happen if the guard was lessened on those who sought to steal for Arthur the secret of Immortality.

That is why they had chosen to stay in Britain rather than pass into the service of the Winter Court along with their once master, they had their own gates to guard against the heroes who were almost-as-gods. And that more likely than not is why Saint David intervened to allow it for the dead should not live again until Judgement Day comes, by Scripture at least

What do you do?

[] Offer to strengthen the door that leads to the prison of the three and onto Arthur's return from Avalon

[] Just take with you what hounds had grown weary of their task

[] Why should the doors stay closed when there is so much wrong in the world, why should heroes sleep until the end of days? Offer to walk to the gate and break it with brass that all will be free to range as they will

[] Write in

OOC: The literary basis for this little conundrum are the Welsh Triads and the Raid on the Otherwold, combined and reimagined of course.

 

[DragonParadox]

Sorrows of the Grim Sovereign​

4rd of February 2007 A.D.

There's a part of you, not a very loud one but present just the same that wants to sunder those gates and free those behind them. There is a rightness to freeing those who are bound that sings in the deep places of your anima. But you are no mere instrument for those ancient echoes, you are Molly Carpenter and what you want to know is... "Why should the heroes of the land be barred from returning? Whose will is it that bids them to be bound? What consequences of their return."

It is not the lead hound to answers but Lydia, speaking you realize at once not for herself. "Long has it been since the Pendragon walked the Earth and many are the tales that men told of him. A king for this land, this whole isle? No, Arthur's dream was grander, it was the dream of all great men in those days, the dream of Rome, to be Emperor. A sword he bore which you and I have both seen with our own eyes Excalibur it was and is still, long carried through trial and strife, but at the last despairing of his strength he turned it to the task of conquest."

"No/Wouldn't work," you and Daniel say, practically at the same time.

"So he found to his sorrow, but the Red Dragon was not as other men, a fire was in him awakened that had slept since the dawn of the world. So set down Arthur King the sword that would not serve his ends in ending the wickedness and folly of the kings squabbling over the carcass of Rome and vowed he before Powers and Principalities great and small that he would be Emperor in Rome and in the City of Constantine to the East, that he would bring all Christendom under his banner as Augustus Cesar come again. He fought and he won, but weary was he and wearier was his army when news came to Arthur of Mordred's treachery. In Cambo-landa on twisted land, with twisted blade the tale ended true and he was dead by fate, by right by law of land, but he would not allow it. With dying breath called he to the Queen of the Summerlands and in repayment for the good done to her he asked of them to let him live again. That power Summer did not have to turn fate and undo death, but the body they could make live, enchanted in slumber until the stars go out or until some other power could be found to bring him forth, the Pendragon once more. Three ships there came onto my shores, Prydwen and they asked for the Cauldron that Arthur might live, but onto..." Lydia stops, freezes really.

"Onto the queen who is no more," the first of the hounds speaks as though he had expected the tale to falter. "Was given the gift of prophecy and looked she before the feet of Arthur should he be allowed to walk under the sun a living man again nine times time nine she read his fortunes. In one he was great an good as ever he had been, gracious and honorable as ever he was Excalibur at his side, but in each of the others she saw naught death before him and thus she advised her lord the King to give them not the Cauldron they begged for. For if he did, said she, many would flock to the House of Arawn untimely. Saith the knights, did not Arthur in all of his deeds and all of his travels prove himself wise enough to pick out one thread of gold out of nine times nine? Quarrel there was, strife and the blood of the queen, laid crimson on stone by mortal steel. Though swifter than mind was the hand thus laid, the deed now was done and battle there was. Of all those who came but three escaped. Harried them we did, the last Great Hunt and brought them before the throne of dark eyed Arawn Thus the King ordered them cast from his presence thieves and Cauldron both. From him they had taken that which his power and even the Cauldron could not return so from them he took the fate of their souls until the Last Days."

"Holy shit," Olivia mutters softly and you cannot bring yourself to even be a little upset at taking the Lord's name in vain.

"Heroes are not without flaw," Tiffany says. She'd surely know.

"I... apologize," Lydia breaks the silence. "I'm not sure if I should be upset at my father for not telling me this at myself for even asking, even coming here. but know that I am sorry," she sighs, looking around as though expecting the owls to offer up some wisdom. "I think... they have been there long enough. Now or one day soon I will come and let them pass. "

"It's OK," Daniel pats her hand awkwardly.

What do you think should be done?

[] It's been fifteen hundred years since Arthur fell, five hundred since the last vestige of Eastern Rome fell, try to reason with the knights through the bars that their quest is lost but they need not be. You understand now the pain of Arawn, but that pain alone does not merit three souls bound until the End of Days

[] Harden the door as much as it's needed that Lydia might take what hounds wish with her. You will have words with Amoracchius-that-is-Excalibur and perhaps with others and then you will find some way to right this ancient wrong one way or the other.

[] Write in

OOC: So yeah... the reason Arawn did not want to talk about this, not an NDA, he just did not want to relive his wife, whom he deeply loved, being killed in a scuffle as she threw herself between knights blades and him. Her death was as much an accident as such things can be, but it still happened and he reacted as he did to what was a horrific breach of the law of hospitality.

 

[DragonParadox]

A Game Interrupted ​

4rd of February 2007 A.D.

What's stood more than fifteen hundred years will hold a few months longer, of that you are sure as one can be of the works of powers in days gone by. Bar the door a little sturdier and Lydia can take those who want to come but... you're here now. Why not have a look now so as to judge knowing all sides of the matter. Lydia wants to offer them mercy, even if only the mercy of the grave. "On the scale of one to Perdition's Edge, how safe would it be for us speak through the bars?"

"Safer than you'd be under the shadow of a mountain on any clear day," Lydia answers, earning a curious look from Daniel.

"Earthquakes," she explains. "Even mountains break, but the gates of the Tower of Annwfn were made to last longer still."

"Well then it's a good thing I didn't have to climb on them on a strand of your hair," he jokes, she giggles and you are reminded again, if there is any need that they are young and in love.

Down the Afon Teifi under the stone bridge in Cardigan, what an odd sight the five of you must make, following hounds that aren't quite there, a flash of light always at the edge of the street lamps, never head on... on to the great wide sea, cold and black and full of memories. And there on the shore a coracle, skin of bullock sticks and willow branch, the boats that brought the Celts to these farthest shores, but no further. For years uncounted none who sailed west ever returned so to their kin the western sea was the gateway to death, where the ghosts of the fallen took ship to a strange dark land. In this narrow ship jostling knees together you are not rowing out in the direction of the lights on the other shore, New York and Boston, Portland and Baltimore, but on to Annwfn. The hounds aren't hounds anymore but seals, their eyes still red, their faces sad as the lights on the shore vanish faster than they should, no one that isn't looking notices the boat. The bull this boat is made of passed many years ago.

How long it takes you could not say for certain, save that it's long enough to make the shirt feel clammy against your skin, just long enough to wonder what kind of navigation seals use out on the open ocean.

"Land ho!" Your brother breaks the silence, in what sounds suspiciously like the voice a much younger Daniel used to play pirate earning an eye-roll from you, a fond look from Lydia while Olivia's gaze darts right to the shore.

It's black sand ahead and not just from the veil that slipped over the stars the moment you left the living shore with nothing but Tiffany's hand-fire to guide the way. The sand is obsidian sharp as tiny knives and from it rises a wall of the same substance, great slabs of it blacker than night rising two hundred feet above your heads. Atop its ramparts not a soul can be seen and yet a pale bonfire burns, guide to the dead and warning to the living.

No living foot had marked these sands for years uncounted and yet when the ship reaches the shore you find prepared a place to tie the mooring line. The hook isn't steel or even iron, but bronze. Once it would have been a sign of wealth and distinction you know, such precious metal cast to so mundane a task, now it's a reminder of all the years that piled up above this place.

"Lydia?" your brother asks.

"Yes," says the girl already halfway up the beach.

"I don't think your hair is long enough," he says seriously.

She shakes her head and laughs again, the sound making all the seals... now hounds again, tip their heads quizzically to the side. Then she turns a silver key in a lock almost unseen. A stone door opens without hinges into a great hall lit all with silver bowls alight with pale flame reflecting in their mirror sheen.

Along the right wall are the weapons of wars uncounted, modern riffles giving way to single shot, to musket to longbow, spear and sword and along the left trophies, some animals yes deer rabbit and fox, but also the facsimiles of medals and commendations, in modern print, in telegram, newspaper clippings and scrolls of crackling parchment. Even without their master the hound had done their work, bringing the newly dead to the tower together with such relics of their lives as they counted grave goods, left here to wander with their thoughts a day, a year, a spell until they gathered the courage or the will to pass on, safe behind these walls from all those who might make use of shades in darker dealings.

Daniel reaches out to touch a kite shield on the wall, marked with lions, there's a lot of lions on offer.

"Don't..." you start, but Lydia interrupts. "If it's on the wall it's alright, it means whoever brought it here no longer has need of it, though I'm afraid you won't be able to take it out with you. All you would be left with it a handful of rust staining your hand."

She picks up one of the lamps seemingly at random and just as a man, a spirit still dripping with the water he had drowned in, eyes too black against the bone white skin, emerges from one of the corridors, she turns aside to the left. The walk is shorted than the boat trip and not just from not having to row, but it's still hard to count the heartbeats, in this place where hearts are not meant to beat.

At one point she stops in front of a pair of pale doors that seem at first of bone, but then you recognize the yew and and horn, the latch of silver. "Throne room, no one's been in there since father left..." she explains. Then guessing the question you at least were about to ask she adds. "I have no desire to go in there and never did. It feels... unnerving, guilt too anxious to even settle and brood. No one's even asked me you understand, but it feels like I'm cheating, the scepter without the crown's weight."

One of the hounds, younger than the others or at least smaller jumps under her hand. "I know you want to come with me and I am very glad for the company."

"If you're cheating than I'm the greatest charlatan to ever live," Tiffany offers with a smile that pokes fun mostly at herself. "The world is filled with crumbling heaps of stone, with legacies that time left behind. A poor shrine that would make. As above so below."

"When I was a kid I always wanted to meet a girl with a castle, not quite how I expected this to go," Olivia offers. "Didn't expect the dungeons to the occupied for one."

"What have they been doing all this time?" you ask, visions of prisoners so broken by their ordeal they could not even speak flashing though your mind. Had Arawn been as cruel as Mab.

"We brought them games, whenever they grew bored of each other's company and conversation, a new one." the hound under Lydia's hand said with a vigorous wag of his tail.

"What kind of games?" you press.

That is how you find out that Llyr Half-Speech, Mabon son of Modron, and Gwair son of Geirioedd had been playing board games for the past several centuries. You are not sure what Othello is but apparently they had 'just' gotten a board and so were still engrossed in it. You are not sure you trust the hounds sense of time. Down and down you go, the walls are starting to perspire, the kind of dungeon you would expect to find rats in, but rats are living things and only three yet living beings are still here. Of stone too is carved the final door, more solid than the mountains, but there's a plug about head height that you can pull to speak to... and that a large determined hound might be able to slip a board through.

"I'm just going to offer to guide them to to the final gate," Lydia says, not taking out the plug yet. "It's been a long time since last they walked under the sun. I think it might be cruel to ask of them to live again and see all that has changed, but what do you all think?"

"You're asking me?" Daniel sounds like more scared of the prospect than he had ever been of things that go bump in the night.

"Why shouldn't I ask you?" Lydia bristles. "I get to choose what counsel I follow."

"I think we should speak to them first." you answer reasonably, that is the whole point of coming this far together. "What language do they speak?"

"Llyr Half-Speech is as skilled in Latin as ever he was in Welsh. Who er... speaks Latin?" Lydia looks around.

You raise your hand as does Daniel, a little wobbly and Tiffany of course, though she can speak all tongues, not just some, leaving only Olivia to shrug. "What? We took alive languages when I was in high school."

"I could make it so everyone understands each other perfectly, it might impress upon them the seriousness of the situation," you offer, essence already smoldering on your lips.

To this friend stops to think a moment, setting down the lamps into a alcove in the stone. "Lets make due with mortal tongues first, they will be wary enough to see us, to see anyone that's not a hound after all this time."

She pulls out the plug and declares in Latin: "Hail Llyr Half-Speech, hail Mabon son of Modron, hail Gwair son of Geirioedd. I bring thee tidings if you would hear them!"

What follows is worryingly long moment of dead silence, followed by what you suspect are muffled Brythonic cursing, someone telling someone else to stop it, complete with thunk on the side of the head then a rather large man, golden hair and beard grown shaggy, but still handsome and more importantly clear eyed looking out over the odd collection of folk before the stone door. What he must think of modern street clothes you cannot even begin to guess. Would it seem scandalous or just wholly alien?

"All our names you know, but we know not what to call ye. We would ask for that at least if you would trade words with us."

How does Molly introduce herself?

[] Just Margret will do

[] As queen

[] As a sorceress

[] Write in

OOC: Imagine if you are a dog spirit, it is the sixteen hundreds and you are feeling pretty sorry for the prisoners, but there are limits to what you can fit though the door and in any case there is no room in there to play with a ball. So you ask a recently dead noble for advice on games of the living that would work They say the the Game of the Goose and the rest is history. Good thing people occasionally bury board games with the dead.