[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/A0ETWbS.png[/img][/center] [sub]banner credit to [url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/users/hellis]Hellis[/url][/sub] [center][h2]Feat. [@fdeviant] as Puck[/h2][/center] [center]Previously… on Create-A-Hero Season 1 [url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/3876395]Natural Selection Arc[/url][/center] [h2][center][b]---[/b][/center][/h2] [b]Time:[/b] 3 Months Ago [b]Location:[/b] Ironworks, Lost Haven Struggling her way back through Ironworks The Ambassador all but cursed, even as she was beaten, broken, and severely exhausted she couldn't utter a single word. Using the remaining ginger in her purse to help Bach recover past the iron he pulled her up to walk. It was a long process, the minutes dragged half as bad as her feet. “[i]My Lady Ambassador! You are alive![/i]” An air sprite flitted before her at a dizzying rate. She gave them a withering look. “[color=thistle][i]Of course I am. Worse for wear but I am alive. Give me a report, where is the metal man?[/i][/color]” “[i]Gone, My Lady. He had this to say before he left.[/i]” [quote][color=teal]”If you’re still alive down there, little fairy girl… if you can still hear me, wherever you are… then consider this a warning. Stay away from me, and my kind. If there is a next time, I will be far less lenient.”[/color] -[@EnterTheHero] [/quote] "[color=thistle][i]He has enough sense not to assume I am dead. Not enough sense to actually check however.[/i][/color]" She huffed with resignation. A quiet resolve burned at the pit of her stomach. She made a promise to herself that the metal man and Racheli would most certainly pay for the trouble they've caused. They are, however, unaware of how high that price will be. The air sprite looked uncomfortable with the next part of the report. "[i]There is something else you should be aware of, My Lady.[/i]" Bach stopped walking as did the sorceress, "[color=thistle][i]Well, what is it?[/i][/color]" "[i]Puck is here.[/i]" Bach and Odette shared a look, her expression pulled tightly into a grimace. --- The Ironworks stood in shambles. Police lights flickered against the metal ruins, the red glare highlighting the remnant blood stains. Bodies lie in burning piles amidst the rubble, scorched by the combined might of science and magic. The Cowl's surviving men, those lucky enough to escape with their lives but not with their freedom, were escorted from the premises, loaded onto riot vans, filed into police cars. As dawn approached, a new calm seemed to settle over the battlefield, a new quiet embraced the surroundings . . . but something sinister halted the return to peace. At the height of the Ironworks, atop a maze of scaffolding and a floor of death, there lay Joseph Mathers, all alone, his final resting place as mundane as they come. From behind his broken corpse came an eerie light, one that manifested as a thick, red haze that soon took the form of a large, ornate door with golden trim. It opened, realeasing the sounds and smells of the demon tavern, The Red Devil. Through the portal stepped Robin Goodfellow, Puck to his friends, the mischevious imp and proprietor of the demonic establishment. He was dressed in a fine black suit, skin dark and clear, shining with an ominous, etheric glow, hair falling neatly around a pair of black antlers. Puck stepped forward, looking down at Joseph. He sighed. [color=CD5C5C][b]"I told you no good would come from trying to play the hero. You weren't meant for fame, my dear . . . but neither were you meant for this."[/b][/color] Puck grieved in his own way. He'd loved mortals before, befriended them, sheltered them, gave them the world, but their lives were much shorter compared to his, and humans, he found, came to swifter, more grizzly ends than he. He waved his hand, a black shadow enveloping Joseph's cold form and escorting it to a safe place. Puck simply waited, knowing that his presence had been felt. Hobbling into the warehouse once again, unwisely considering what little time she had to escape herself. The Air sprites had given Odette plenty of warning and updates in regards to the authorities. As she was, she would be in no condition to fight nor defend herself against the likes of Puck. Though she should have known, should have guessed the connection. Joseph Mathers wasn't simply an old nosey witch. Bach held up his pact partner the best he could. He was feeling perhaps worse, struggling against the effects of his iron poisioning. Walking past the towering shelves in the warehouse once again they arrived to the area where they faced the Ouroboros and their unwilling master. Odette leaned heavily against one of the desks still inact catching her breath, staring down the patient figure that was Puck. Joseph's body was gone. She had never met The Red Devil's proprietor but knew of his realm of influence. Knew of him and his network. Not looking presentable in the least, her clothing was in a rotten mess. Her hair mussed with dust and blood. Her skin red and angry from iron burns. But her manners however found the energy to be extended to the likes of Puck. "[color=thistle]Good morning, Mister Goodfellow. What brings you here?[/color]" [color=CD5C5C][b]"I heard that congratulations were in order; I wanted to deliver them myself. It isn't often that a witch under my care is slain by anyone of your kind or otherwise. They are usually far more cautious than to allow themselves to fall prey to someone of lesser talents . . . so that must mean that your talents were superior."[/b][/color] "[color=thistle]Oh, you mean Joseph? I understand desperation but to so naively summon the likes of the Ouroboros with no contingency plans to protect oneself from powerful spirits. It is a rather poor choice that resulted in my exploitation.[/color]" Odette shrugged sorely. "[color=thistle]He had no buisness here otherwise.[/color]" She tucked some frizzy hair behind her ear, "[color=thistle]There is no love loss between witches and the Fey. You must realize that, Mister Goodfellow.[/color]" Puck nodded, [color=CD5C5C][b]"Of course not, your kind have been guiding witches for centuries. Once upon a time, I counted myself among your numbers, danced in your courts, entertained your kings and nobles. No, the Fey will always be an important asset to the likes of witches and ones such as myself."[/b][/color] Puck was just as calm and cool as Odette. He felt rage, he felt grief, but lashing out at Odette was far too obvious, and Puck held no stock in being obvious. [color=CD5C5C][b]"You are also right in saying that Joseph's actions were foolhardy. I don't mind telling you that he had been searching for fame for some time now. His entire reason for becoming a witch was to make a point to his father, to lash out and make a name for himself outside the shadow of his family. But, as luck would have it, he was forgotten by them, a name lost to time. Even in his death, very few shall remember him, and even fewer will care to. All of this,"[/b][/color] Puck motioned to the ruined Ironworks, [color=CD5C5C][b]"this was his chance at fame. But alas, poor Joseph was bested by one who shall one day be infinitely more famous."[/b][/color] He brought his hands together and began to clap briefly. [color=CD5C5C][b]"Bravo!"[/b][/color] Puck feigned enthusiasm. Odette felt a pang of irritation at the imp's sarcasm, it was masking something else. Again, she was in no position to do anything about it other than rely on her words. Something else was giving way to a growing unease. Her alias was well known as she worked several years in and out of the Faerie Realsm building her reputation. Alliances afforded great resources, favours garnered and debts incured were the Fey's bread and butter. What fame was Puck referring to? She hesitated to ask directly but time was running down the clock, it would only be a matter of time when rescue and clean up crews would pick their way into the warehouse. "[color=thistle]Are you hoping to incite a sense of empathy for the likes of Joseph, Mister Goodfellow? You will be sorely disappointed, I will not apologize for being the cause of his death. He brought it upon himself by initially intruding on my operations and poisioning the Archon of the Old Earth. He deserved no less.[/color]" Odette said evenly, her anger from earlier that day had been quelled when she saw the life bleed from Joseph's eyes. "[color=thistle]You have retrieved Joseph's body so what is it that keeps you here? Obviously not to make small talk.[/color]" [color=CD5C5C][b]"As I said, I came to extend my congratulations and offer you a gift for your triumph. I am in the business of rendering services to others, especially those that best me and my employees."[/b][/color] Odette tore her eyes away and looked to her partner instead. She knew better than to accept gifts from [i]anyone[/i]. Bach looked as uneasy as she did. "[color=darkseagreen]My Lady, it doesn't need to be said. I don't trust whatever it is he has to give.[/color]" She chewed on the inside of her cheek whispering to him, "[color=thistle]He probably won't let us leave until he gives us his 'gift'. We may have no choice.[/color]" Bach gently squeezed her shoulder he turned to Puck, "[color=darkseagreen]What are the conditions to such a gift, what is that you intend to give?[/color]" [color=CD5C5C][b]"I wish only to give you a bit of my own foresight, a look at what will but has not yet come to pass. It is within your best interest to accept my offer now while it carries no price, else you shall live with the pain of not knowing what lurks beyond the horizon. But if you are content to live with in your state of willfull ignorance, your vision will remain limited and I shall take my leave . . . the choice is yours."[/b][/color] Odette thought on that for a few moments. The future did little to scare her, it may prove to be a humbling experience or give her some time to prepare for hardening against tragedy. Regardless, information was power in whatever form it took. Although she did not trust Puck in anyway his words or visions would be entirely subjective. As were most oracles. What would the likes of The Ambassador truly have to worry for? Pushing off from the desk she walked forward with a slight hunch approaching Puck, "[color=thistle]A gift is a gift. I accept.[/color]" Puck gave the pair a devilish grin. [color=CD5C5C][b]"Very well . . . You, my dear, are as the Earth, a powerful force, one of beauty, strength, and resolve. You are forever changing, forever overcoming obstacles, forever evolving. And when the elements, the very forces of nature over whom you have unbridled authority, conspire against you, you adapt in amazing ways. When your womb is scorched and dried, you do not become infertile; when your wells run dry, you release the gates of heaven and bring down her floods; when your limbs are scattered by the winds, they grow anew and become mountains tall. You will always adapt, always overcome your creation . . . but when a mother hurts her child, she may never regain their trust. And you, even as the Earth, can be hurt by her children in the most creative ways." "But do not be fooled, your children are not the only ones who reside in your domain. Their stands upon your plains a being ancient, much like yourself, who comes in the guise of a friend. She is a fire that burns brighter than your own hearth, one that can level forests and leave nothing in their wake, and she is angry. Her spirit burns even now, but once she reaches her potential, once she devours the flame of humanity, she will be unstoppable. And the question isn't whether you will be burned, but if you shall reemerge from the ashes."[/b][/color] Puck didn't wait for Odette's response, nor did he stay to see her expression. He already knew of her pain, he had seen it. With that, he receeded into the crimson door that lead back to The Red Devil, the two of them fading until there was nothing but a stone wall in their place. Odette's heart was racing well after Puck took his leave. Bach was without a word as well. When her mind snapped back she dug through her purse for her phone. She quickly spoke back everything she heard in near perfect citation. Bach corrected her on a couple of words but once the recording was done she stared at her smartphone. Surprised by how affected she was and shaken with unease. Perhaps the exhaustion was to blame for how sensitive she felt. The air sprites urged her to move on. Using their limited magic to mask her escape from Ironworks. On the back of her broomstick she snuck away into flight, allowing her mind to wonder on her flight back to Lost Haven. The Ambassador would rest and by the next day she would be back to her full power and confidence. Her phone however now felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, the weight of the future. --- [b]Time:[/b] Present [b]Location:[/b] The Ritz-Carlton, New York City. An empty bottle of wine sat on the solid red oak table between two lush chairs. Where moments ago Odette had been planning and speaking with The Broker, a Prince of Hell. In her slight alcoholic haze did her memories cast back to Ironworks once again. She itched to return to Paris where she could truly begin her plans against Racheli. She grabbed her phone then tapped into a well buried folder. Opening a recording and listening intently to it. [center][i]"[color=thistle]And the question isn't whether you will be burned, but if you shall reemerge from the ashes.[/color]"[/i][/center] She replayed that section several times focusing on the words and hearing her own voice crack near the end of the sentence. Bach gently removed the phone tapping the red button to stop the playback, "[color=darkseagreen]My Lady? Why are you listening to that again? We discussed it to death, we agreed it was just a ploy to unsettle and disturb you. Puck lost one of his own and decided to punish you with his strange prophecies.[/color]" "[color=thistle]I don't know.[/color]" She said with a sigh. "[color=thistle]It still sits at the back of my mind, like a nag. Something tells me denying it would simply... ruin me.[/color]"