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Whatever hope the lamia had of getting out of this alive was slowly dwindling as she found herself with claws at her throat. No one really knew what Thymond White was. They hazard guesses and tried to dig out the information, but it was rarely successful. Raising too many questions and too few answers. Swallowing the panic Desdemona flickered her tongue with a terrified hiss. "The Sheep is rather strong willed," She noted slyly as the Goblin sat frozen in fear behind her.

The old withered being was not about to give Thymond any reason to pay attention to him. Desdemona knew that if she could get the goblin out of this alive and intact- she might still have a shot. A chance at what she wanted. If she could convince the dangerous Fae before her that she was better off left alive. "Sssurely you would not be overly cruel asss to deny a poor lamia- as beautiful asss myssself- a little pleasssure from watching a mere mortal sssuffer? Adding to my meager ssstoresss a few coinsss for better comfortsss." She crooned. Shifting her form so very slowly to better display what was her great beauty. One thing that was well known was Thymond's love of flesh, and Desdemona strove to move this to her favor.



The great dark doors gleamed with a pale blue light as they creeked open to admit the kitsune Fae and the humans. Once the last mortal and Fae who wished to enter- or did not wish but did enter- passed across the threshold the doors creaked close with a ominous boom. A sound that echoed through the massive halls and drew looks from the darkest and most powerful of Fae Under the Mountain. The weak did not dwell within the Court of Nightmares for long. The floor was a shiny white that was at odds with the gleaming ceiling of dark stone and glittering gems and metals. The walls were decorated in various paintings and trophies from various hunts. Skins, heads, horns, claws and fangs. But the runners of dark deep blue that covered the marble, offering a weak warmth from the chill of the stone, led the eye up to a second door. This one just as large, and up a grand staircase. A woman on one side was holding the handle and thus hand of the man on the other. She was fair to look upon. With an angular cat-like face her eyes were pure emeralds that looked at one with the door. The man on her opposite was as wilde as she was not. Storm winds whipped his great cloak about him shrouding his body in mystery along with his face. Though the moon at his back echoed the rose at hers.

Yin, however, might find some comfort in the scene. A man- reedy and thin- not a hint of his martial training about him stood off to one side. Looking rather annoyed at the kitsune. "You are late, aid." Kiron Morrigant intoned in his brass battlefield voice. For as reedy and weak this man looked he was the leader of the Stygian Company. The guard force and army of Under the Mountain. The elites. With coal black eyes the man looked over the flock of humans. Mortals were food- prey to the fae. That they now relied so heavily on them was a bone stuck in his craw. "This is it? I would think His Majesty could secure proper help than a rabble of halfwits." A flick of a scarred hand motioned a servant forward- a shadowy fae. "See them to the Mortal Hall. Freshen them up before his Lordship arrives." He sneered, "If you can do even that." The double comment was aimed at both Mortals and Yin alike as the Steward glanced back at Yin sourly.

The dark fae, led the humans down a twisting stair into cavernous tunnels. While it was warm, and pleasantly so, there were also thick doors of wood. Hinges of copper or bronze. Iron and steel seemed to be a foriegn concept so far as any mortal who noticed would see. "Your rooms." The dark fae shrouded in the black robe and cowl intoned in a dead voice. "Four per room. There's is bathing behind this door and each room will have the necessities for mortal life." Then they were gone. Flickering lights of candles- actual normal candles- showered the tunnel that twisted lower in the bowels of the Mountain in limited light. IF they were to look into the bathing chamber as the fae put it, they would see a room filled with a large pool. Water draining from one side into the room next door. Polished rocks formed the lining and flagstones tiled the limited space that was not underwater. In the rooms themselves there were single beds, a bunk above each to either side of the door. A small door in the back opened into a small restroom. But if they looked upward. The tunnel opened into a large lounge. Boasting a pool table, along with several normal tables. Shelves filled with battered volumes. Several other mortals were mending clothes and chatting albeit nervously and cautiously. There was even a piano in one corner- a leg stabilized with books. Again the polished rock was the only siding but it was a far cry from the wilderness.



Silvery mist swirled about the entrance as the air's current was disturbed. The tall and still-shirtless form of the Fall King appeared once more in the cavern's mouth. His stormy grey eyes lit with a mixture of disapproval and amusement when he notice Bodil's emotional state. With a flip of his hand, a set of lightly woven fabric was floated over to her on dark tendrils of psychic power. It was a basic woven tunic of a deep grey. The hems embroidered with black and silver dragons in flight. The work was the height of a craftsman's life. A light silver belt seemingly made of the actual metal. Woven from strands so find and limber they felt like hard leather. Black leggings- much like his own- were the other main article. Smaller bits of cloth needed for a female were there as well. Though outdated to Bodil's time. The Lord of the Hunt gave her a slight chuckle as he turned away once more. "I do not plan on eating you- not that there is much to go around." His footsteps silent as they were when he appeared, though his voice floated back. "Neither are you much to look at- on the other hand."

Bodil felt as though she had shed three pounds of grime and muck with just that one bath. There was nothing more heavenly than warm water and soap. Well, perhaps maybe a nice plush warm bed, but she wouldn't get her hopes up. Didn't that horrible beastman say he'd terrorize her dreams? Not that she dreamt much anymore. But she'd take depthless, deep dreamless sleep over the string of nightmares she grew up with. Looking at her soak clothes, she wondered if these Fae things even slept. The kingdom she had seen was nightmarish, dark, cold, apathetic, and cruel. It stooped itself in decay and buckled under greedy frivolous creatures who were too confused to know what they valued and what they didn't.

The humans they chose to capture were either utter failures, like herself, or they were half out of their wits already. Her dark bobbed hair sent little droplets of water onto the floor as she thought over the events of the last month. Survival at its most basic. Running like a deer from the hunter, always sleeping in short spurts, always trying to stay three steps ahead... And then to be corralled back to the mass herd of sheep-brain humans. Her fingers clenched at the drenched soil material of her over-worn clothes from the mortal realm. Why did it always have to be like this? If she wasn't trying to escape one cage, she was getting caught in another. Bodil pressed her cheek to her naked shoulder as if comforting herself in that smallest of gestures. Always running, never safe... Why couldn't she just be left alone?

Mist like dancing dreams waltzed around the ancient bathing chamber. The soft humidity was disturbed by the return of some sort of cold air. Bodil shivered and looked up with a silent glare. Her small and overly lean body curled in on itself, crouched over her soaking pile of clothes. She felt like an animal shorn of its protective fur, antlers, and claws under the mocking gaze of the hideously perfect king. His cold gaze etched over what must be a savage scene. The civilized creature analyzing the lesser being before it, faintly amused and disgusted at the vulnerable and mortified thing. How barbaric she must be to these Fae, with so little antique etiquette or demure disposition or some such other entirely useless and frivolous quality that they might hold in high reguard. If anything was held in high esteem in this realm anyway.

Stilled under the eyes of the ruler of nightmares and monstrosities, Bodil glared clutching her wet clothes to her body. Her face was red, in cherry coated mortification, but she refused to let him see her so affected. Not again. His lack of modesty had taken her by surprise before, but now she leveled him with an open glower. He'd not find her stammering like a blushing school girl again. With a flick of his long fingers, a stream of fabric floated towards her. Shallow grey, a ghostly color on her pale milk skin and deep dark hair coloring, dropped on her. She half expected there to be some sort of horrible beast hidden in the clothes, but it was just cloth. Terribly fine cloth, now that she examined it, searching for poisoned tendrils or even pricking thorns.

Suspicious. Why would such finely hemmed clothing be given to her? She wasn't just a slave, for 'servant' was certainly no how she saw the other humans that existed in this place, but an unruly, rebellious and troublesome pest. Bodil narrowed her eyes, but her need for modesty won out over petty spite once more. How she wanted to throw these fine things in this looming ethereal creature's face, he looked so smug. He even had the nerve to comment on her physical appearance while she was at her most vulnerable! Bodil's face flushed with another wave of humiliation. But she needed clothes just as much as she needed to hide away from the king of terrors, so she turned her back to him and quickly dressed.

The hems embroidered with black and silver dragons in flight, such work was the height of a craftsman's life, so detailed and painstaking... And a mere slave wearing it? Bodil fit the delicate silver belt around her tiny waist, so agile the work of the belt she was able to wrap it twice around her form. The small pieces of cloth, like ancient underthings for a woman, she fit on under the tunic, not daring to turn around least she see the fowl king laughing at her. The black leggings, like leather at first sight and yet as flexible and breathing as a stretchy cotton, were last. All in all, it was excellent grade clothing, though why he was wasting it on her she seriously did not know.

'Not much to look at'... Bodil felt as though he had prodded an old wound with those long fingers of his. "I already know that," she whispered the grumbling words to herself. Shaking her wet head, her short hair already losing the moisture of her bath, she ran her fingers through it, combing it into submission. An easy thing with short and listless hair. Grabbing her damp purse, she wondered if she should grab her mortal world clothes too. No, perhaps not. They were ratty and half rotting from all the abuse a month of wearing them had taken. Not to mention she had run through and slept in the forest like an animal in them. At least she could be flexible about her clothing, adaptable to that at the very least.

"And if you tried to eat me, you'd choke anyway," she stood, still grumbling under her breath, slinging her purse pack onto her back. Bodil stood tall, though her height didn't make her very imposing, and walked to the door the 'Falcon King' had gone through. Hesitating, she looked back at the warm womb-like bathing room. "At least they have one good thing in this awful world," she huffed. Then turned to the threshold and walked through without any regrets. "What do you plan on doing, if you aren't going to eat me, anyway?" she called to the shadows, still brazen if a bit less bristly than their last 'conversation', "Make an example out of me, like the Fox enjoys doing everytime someone so much as sneezes in his direction?" Silence for a moment. "Hey! Are you still there?"

interacting with (eventually): Noah

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@BlackPanther @LovelyAnastasia @Belle @Demonic Angel @Vesuvius00 @Fallenreaper @Forett

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Desdemona gave a pleading whimper as Thymond backed her into the room. The Goblin falling back to eye the stair, but knowing far better than to take that route. This larger Fae would be on him in moment and the lamia would be of little help. The room was now far more claustrophobic with the twenty foot odd Desdemona, now very pale as the Fae spoke the mortal girl who had pleaded for the wrong doer's life. Not a common thing, but less common was the feel of Thymond's talon in her jaw. And far, far less welcomed.

"P-please! I can tell you-!" She endured his claw in her jaw- it could be healed. Hopefully. But when claws sliced into her throat, she gripped the man's wrist and strained to pull it away. Her arms lacking the strength of her coils. However strong she was, she would be unlikely to pull the man from from her. The Goblin merely looked on, wringing his hand and hoping with all his little twisted heart that Thymond did not turn his claws and gaze upon him. He was a old goblin- even among the fae. Erin would see him eyeing the new comer and the stairs. Tempted but too terrified to try.



Yusuke found himself left alone, the humans seemingly respecting his needs for solitary. It was not uncommon amongst those who came here. However, they did spy the kitsune- Yin- and seem to drift to the opposite side of the room from where they saw him. They knew the Fae on site- and some by prior experience. Yin would note a few humans- those here before his flock- fled the bathing chamber upon his arrival. Not wanting to tangle with the fox. One woman- her red hair thick and tangled from the damp- however wandered close. Her hips swaying temptingly as she held the scant barrier of a towel to conceal herself. Yet fully hint. Fluttering her blue eyes at the Lieutenant of the UnSeelie King. The well endowed woman gave a flirty smile, "So kind of you to join us here, My Lord. May I be of service- in any way?" It was not uncommon among some to get extra security through some Fae who deemed to take mortals for lovers. Plying the lesser lived with gifts and protection.

The artist, however, would note Elsa being shown a assortment of clothing. All very fine seeming from where he sat. Young ladies they all were, their bright eyes filled with malice and mischief as Elsa turned away with a chosen piece. The small group of four sniggered and whispered between each other, walking back pass the artist and to their original seats with their embroidery. "Clarice will be so very angry!" "Thus it's perfect. She takes the clothes. We showed her Clarice's beautiful selection! Merely showed! If she stole a piece. Tis not out doing." The last was said by a darker haired woman with freckles. Her eyes gleaming as she preened with the others admiration of her plan. A third chirped up with her own opinion. "That new meat thinks she's better with her covered bossom? She'll learn the lay of things soon enough once one drunk guard snags her." The others hissed at her to keep her tone down. Though her voice would not have carried to the piano or over it's tune.

As Elsa sat at the piano minutes earlier and started the play. The bench was worn, and creaked under her. The piano, however, was in decent shape and sang true. It's melody however was soft. Creaking on the louder notes. But as the melody filled the room, so did a few timed taps of the foot and some gentle humming. Soft sounds that accompanied the music while the human men and women moved about their tasks. Enjoying this breif bit of innocent relaxation. Never mind that Yin had passed through minutes earlier. Though, a few cast Elsa sharp glances. Others with their own worried looks. They had not been pleased with this new musician taking up so suddenly and quickly with Clarice's little 'feather-heads' as one woman noted to another far too softly for the newcomers to hear. Was she another little pet? Was she being set up? It was a bad situation under that innocent tune.



The stone walls echoed Bodil's voice back at her slightly. But the Fall King paused, glancing back at the mortal with those storm filled eyes. Gesturing at her to follow, his black hair fell in a dark pool down his shoulder and back. Held back by a silver clasp, looking like diamond stars spilling into the night. "You are to be of use, while we of the Fair Folk take on more burdensome tasks." His long legs took him down the darkened hall, not looking back to see if the woman was following. Slight lights appearing on the walls. Globes of witch lights, hovering. "And I do not need to make a example with a mortal. As I said- you stand before me again. Alive, intact. Though your actions nearly led to you being a broken husk- mindless-, as Yin is wont to do. Thus I have granted you mercy in preventing this. As I said."

His form moved along the twisting corridor, several opening fleeing off into various side rooms. One being a bed room, it's large dark curtains that acting as a door open enough for Bodil to catch a glimpse of scattered weapons. Gleams of jewels and fabric discarded about. As if in a frenzied search or from a simply messing person. Another room was also blocked by the thick curtains. But the Unseelie Lord merely walked by, and up as the hall sloped into a upward spiral. Opening into a vast room filled with long bookshelves, of which there were at least fifty four, and a desk tucked into alcove. A couch, two plush armchairs- one with a arm that didn't look like it would remain attached much longer- and a low black stone coffee table. Oddly modern in such a dismal world. The dim light however remained. Giving this large library even more of a air of stillness. Far below from where they came the soft sound of bells being hit by water echoed up. Floating to form a melody that was barely there and quickly forgotten. Though Falk did not seem to note this as he paused by a shelf and scanned the books. Otherwise ignoring if the mortal had followed or not.

Bodil winced a bit at the echo of her voice. After all who knew what ghastly things were standing guard in the shadows of this place. Not that this particular monarch looked like he needed much protecting. Heck, people probably needing guarding from him. He made a motion for her to follow and so she did, more with worry about what could happen should she fall behind. Who knew what was lurking about. After all, it wasn't as if she were particularly obedient, as was previously established. Her actions stemmed more from her gut instincts and emotions, rather than logic and reasoning.

The silver clasp holding the king's hair winked at her ominously, drawing her from her contemplations. 'Be of use' what did that even mean? She wasn't going to 'be of use' to anyone, especially not Fox and most certainly not even King. A bit suspicious, Bodil wrapped her arms around herself as she followed him three paces behind. Not too close, not too far away. She might have touched the Fox on accident, letting her guard down enough to mistake him for fractionally human-like, but she wasn't going to give her self even the slightest hint of chance around this king. Touching him probably turned humans into stone or ash or shadows or fall leaves or something.

"Ah, 'burdensome tasks'..." she scoffed under her breath, mumbling like a rebellious adolescent on a school trip, "So 'burdensome' to drink, make merry, and torment humans all day..." He probably heard it, but she could have said worse. If anything, she at least didn't interrupt. She was too wary of him to be overtly rude or ostentatious. She watched the odd firefly-like orb lights that glowed like faint heartbeats in the walls.

He said he didn't need to make an example of her. Small mercies. Not that she let her hopes up. Something equal awful was probably in store for her. A dance in white hot iron shoes to entertain Fae, a nightly dream date of torture from a Fox with a grudge, or even being handed to Fae kitchens to place some hint of order on a messy and disastrous cooking area. The list went on and on in her head. Each more horrible than the last. After all, these Fae didn't seem to do much work at all. At least not any she had seen. The reconstruction of the ruins was as fruitful as trying to fist fight the ocean.

Bodil decided it probably wise not to comment on the fox bit of information to his grand dasterly's sentences. She had enough common sense to hold her tongue for the king of horrors at least. Instead, she continued to look around, following three paces behind him, glancing at him warily from time to time. Each room that passed was as odd and alien as the last. A gothic bedroom littered with shining weaponry, some of which she couldn't even name. A dressing room with gems and jewels and silks and finery messily slumped and forgot in piles on every surface. A room of just curtains hiding who knew what. Odder and odder it all got. Crystal decor with ruby and diamond eyes inside blinking about. Feathers of all kind of birds that couldn't possibly exist, like purple and black peacocks' feathers or yellow and red-spotted owls' feathers. Ribbons that weren't ribbons, connecting from one solid surface through the other, like glimmering wires or vines that just ghostly pasted through soild stone. It was all beautiful yet very odd. And very, very messy. Didn't they have maids in this place? Honestly, there was no way anyone would ever be able to find anything at all in a magical fantasy-object slopheap like these rooms.

Following the Falk up a spiral walking-way, they entered a library. Bodil watched as the dark king sauntered through the still room, dust swirling like silk tresses behind him. Even the library was a mess. She didn't dare touch anything, lest it fall apart or have tiny alien crawly-things skitter out from it. Not to mention, she'd never stop sneezing if she ever got started in a place like this. Though much like the other rooms she had seen glimpses of, this one had an otherworldly beauty to it too. There was so much to look at. The multicolored covers the glowed in the soft living light. The sheen of the desk as it huddled away in its alcove, papers and jewel-feathered quills littering its surface. The slouching furniture, of exquisite craftsmanship, lazing about. The clamor of ages came to a disjointed pinnacle in this too-still room. Strange music haunted about as Bodil frowned in confusion. It was all lovely yes, sure, but why were they here? And where was a dust rag when you needed it? Whoever the maids were they were doing a horrible job. Probably just Fae work ethic.

"Looking for anything in particular?" she asked a bit confused but still as softly bristled and suspicious as ever. Maybe a magic book to make her mute or a summoning alarm to ward her with so she couldn't ever run away. Though she was still a bit unclear on whether she was valuable or worthless in this world (she was betting on worthless), the Fae seemed to do plenty of unnecessary things no matter the worth of the object. Kill one human, save the other. Bodil rubbed her forehead and looked around again, watching for creep-crawlies and any shadwos big enough to hide beastly torture guards.

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@BlackPanther @LovelyAnastasia @Belle @Demonic Angel @Vesuvius00 @Fallenreaper @Forett

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The goblin winced as the lamia hit the ground with a resounding thud. The rasp of twitching coils filled the room along with the copper tang of blood as it pooled beneath the fae. The flesh that the greater fae had pulled out smacked against the rough stone floor. Leaving a trail of red on several papers. Cowering beneath Thymund's gaze, the aged goblin wasn't about to make a move that could be interpreted as 'wrong'. While the lamia had been over confident and cocky, he saw no reason to follow suit. Just look when it had gotten Desdemona. Though he did have the good sense to nod in rapid agreement that this being could provide better information.



As Yusuke and Elsa spoke to each other, a woman spoke up. Her eyes were haunted, but she seemed sound enough other than that small fact. Dressed in a decent plain skirt and blouse, her hair tightly braided back and showing flecks of grey. A common enough face if they were to glance at the other humans. "You two fresh off? 'nd sent ter the Court o' Nightmares?" The wariness in her voice was there along with the queer look in her eye. As if she didn't rightly believe them. "But aye girl. If they Fae Lords take likin' ter ye, they'll use yer gift or what yer advertisin'. Spare ye from the servant labor like the rest o' us." A man who was mending a strap muttered something along the lines of 'war relief'.

The red headed Clarice gave the kitsune a sickly sweet smile. "Of course, my Lord." She turned away, towards the side to gather up her discarded close. It however would not stop Yin from noticing the flare of indignant anger that flashed across her face. That she had propositioned and turned down was not something Clarice was fond of. And to be rejected by one of the King's own hands? That was a sting to her pride. But with quick steps, the red head fled from the room. Yanking the man standing in the door way the rest of the way in and shoving by the new come woman who also blocked her way. A sneer upon her face as she shoved by both, though she was wise enough to not say anything in the fox's hearing.



The stormy eyes lacked the power they had when he had ordered a hunt on her- glanced at her with a bored expression. Their gleam of magic. Absent, which was probably something the mortal girl might find herself thankful for. Turning his gaze back to the books, he spoke in that voice like rustling leaves. "I doubt you would understand the language of the Fae or your own ancient tongue from eons before your people founded Rome or Athens." Indeed the spines were generally blank but those with various symbols were in strange designs. Though a few were roman numerals. Bodil might note some of these tomes looked halfways to the grave while others looked new. Some bore the scars of fire, flood, or the touch of blade. One spine even had a arrow sticking out of it. "As for those tasks," The Fall King continued after several long seconds- perhaps minutes. "I doubt mortals could preform feats of magic to restore towers or forests. To bring the land to fertility again. Perhaps you could have once, but those were ancient days." He seemed lost in thought, thinking back to times long ago.

Reaching up to a high shelf, the Lord plucked a fragile book from above his head and opened it to scan the pages. "We must restore our infrastructure, which to you would be economy. Though to those of the Fae this goes deeper. The very Land is our base, and to restore the Fae we must restore it. The Land is made up of ley lines. A web, so to speak, of magic that flows in our very blood and bone. They were damaged during the collaspe that happened and thus require restoration. But not all realize this or see it as the problematic fate it is." His voice darkened slightly, his eyes gleaming faintly as he replaced the book and walked a bit further down the aisle to pull free another and look through it instead. "Politics are far more deadly and complicated in the Fae. Our laws were made to stop the eternal wars and blood shed. We are not a kind people, though we have our moments. But we carry favors- owed and due-, promises, and grudges." His eyes slide to Bodil again, something like regret in them, but not quite fitting it. Turning his gaze back to the book, he continues reading.