The Fauxtrot

Record Spinner & Spy Dancer

Woot, I'm glad~ I should have a post up by later tonight and such standby :D

Avan-Sol

The Goblin Family of New York

As always, Mr. Spade, you are free to negotiate on the details. Otherwise, you can forgettaboutit. Capish?

Goblins are among the most homogeneous species alive today mostly likely due to their grotesque appearance and refusal to completely assimilate into modern day societal norms. However, few cultures exist in complete isolation, and it is all but inevitable that a society will be impacted by other groups, either by trade, religious missions, conquest, or some other form of communication. In the case of Goblins, it is rumored to have started when copy of Francis Ford Coppola's "The Godfather" ended up being washed down a storm grate.

Appearance

Culture

An Overview of the Underground

Unlike Giants, Trolls, Banshees, and most of the vicious Orc sub-types, Goblins have managed to survive and even thrive in spite of human attempts at eradication. They've adapted by developing a tight knit secretive societies underground called 'Families'. The State of New York is home to one of the largest Goblin communities in the United States. Texas being the largest overall.



Italian American Roots

It wasn't until the early 1970s that Goblins of New York found anything of interest to do with human culture or ways of life. There was a large language gap and discrimination perpetuated from both sides. That all changed when copies of The Godfather began to circulate among the population. The phenomenon spurred an entire cultural revolution and as tribes became united and organized as the years when by.Today, Goblins speak broken Italian-English aside from their own garbled native tongue, enjoy Italian food, and styled their own government after the mafia template.

Drug Economy

Because of relatively pure bloodlines and strong tendencies to exclude outsiders, Goblin magic is said to be among the most potent of the modern day Folk. However as a drawback to their dependency, their technology is several decades behind. With limited skills in all areas to make their society functional they have turned to making and distributing drugs laced with trace amounts of magic. The revenue received in turn is used for items like clothing and food etc. and redistributed equally among them through the Goblin Mafia.

Politics

While largely indifferent to political views and ideology outside of their own, it is said that their support of Avan and ties with The Ulrich Monarchy are the only real political motivators. This is largely in part why the state of New York is hesitant to grant voting rights to Fae. If inclined the entire Goblin population will vote united one way.

There are whispers of unrest within the mob. Seeds of doubt planted from an outside source...though no one seems to know anything about nothin' when confronted. There have been several accusations of Goblins being used as hitmen on Fae and even in line with the murder of Avan. The Don is currently investigating the matter quietly while delivering a swift and speedy hit on whoever dares accuse him outright.

Clan Hierarchy

Goblin Mafia Overview

A clan is led by a "Don" (Boss or Hoss), who is aided by and supervised by one or more advisers (consigliere). Under his command are groups (decina) of about fifty to a thousand "soldiers" (pack or troop). According to a rough census, there is one main Goblin Family in the state of New York with a total of at least half a million to a million full members.

The boss of a clan is typically elected by the rank-and-file soldiers (though violent successions do happen). A Don's tenure is also frequently short: elections are yearly, and he might be deposed sooner for misconduct or incompetence. The underboss is usually appointed by the boss. He is the boss' most trusted right-hand man and second-in-command. If the boss is killed or imprisoned, he takes over as leader.

The consigliere ("counselor") of the clan is also elected on a yearly basis. One of his jobs is to supervise the actions of the boss and his immediate underlings, particularly in financial matters (e.g. preventing embezzlement or internal fraud). He also serves as an impartial adviser to the boss and mediator in internal disputes. To fulfill this role, the consigliere must be impartial, devoid of conflict of interest and ambition.

Other than its members, The Goblin Mafia makes extensive use of "associates". These are people who work for or aid a 'Family' but are not treated as true members. These include corrupt officials and various other street thugs. An associate is considered by the mob nothing more than a tool, someone that they can "use", or "nothing mixed with nil."

Modern Traditions

Most Notable and Continuing Practices

Blood Vows

Goblins are known for their stringent views on heritage and family ties. Blood is incorporated into most aspects of rites and ceremonies and most specifically the concept of respect. A blood pact is made when parties involve make small or large (depending on the importance or meaning of the pact) cuts on the hands and exchange blood through and open wound. Violation of a Blood Vow is considered the highest form of disrespect and is usually seen as act of war.

Goblin Lake

An underground body of water that acts as a place of ceremonial execution. Whether the lake is poisonous, magical, cursed, or otherwise-- one this is for certain: Whatever goes into the lake, doesn't come out. Water taken from the lake, however is said to be used in the making of drugs (The Don will neither confirm nor deny this fact)

Testing for 'Respect Points'

This tradition draws upon older tribal eras where Goblins often fought to the death in order to pick a chief. Today however it is used much more often as a means of initiation or to win an audience with The Don. Goblins will hold a test (usually one that targets a specific area of skill such as, Speed, Strength, Agility, or Spiritual Awareness) for outsiders and insiders. However these contests are most often rigged or stacked against outsiders resulting in a number of harsh consequences. It is most often agreed that should one consider entering into a Goblin challenge, to negotiate details beforehand. Otherwise, by tradition the winner may demand the loser's execution.

Record Spinner & Spy Dancer

No, no it's all good~ I hope I'm not like over stepping anything -- did you want me to change directions or fix anything? :D

Record Spinner & Spy Dancer

Adopting an ugly dog...
Taking me in...
Cooking...

So basically. She thought, he's the type of guy my grandmother would have liked to see me with. It was almost too bad she had her sights set on someone else. Deblin arched her back slightly and smiled. "Night owl? Yeah, definitely-- but just to enforce that fact, wanna go for coffee?". She'd been coming off as the sullen and quiet type for sure-- and probably could keep that up because of her injuries and 'trauma'. But honestly, the night hours automatically focused her. By two in the morning she would be sharp as a rifle. And then maybe around six AM she would slowly taper off and become dead to the world.

They went to the cafe and they sipped at pair of steaming cups. He smiled after a moment of watching her fiddle around with the umpteenth packet of creamer and said: "Have some coffee with your bucket of cream?" She looked down into her cup guiltily, but then tasted it and decided it was worth the embarrassment of having adding at least some sugar. She liked sweet things. He grinned.

Nice smile.

Suddenly a pang of alarm hit her. Wait no. Not nice. Easy girl. Easy. Remember the reason you're in Miami to begin with. And remember you still have to pin that fucker Zero... Deblin coughed and then said, "So, anything interesting happen on campus?"

His eyes lit up and for about an hour or so they chattered away about what she had missed while she had been away. Turns out a lot. What a few months away from studies could do to a girl. Urgh. I'd better start cracking open the books...Actually... "Hey Michael? Will you let me sit in on one of your classes? Y'know as an audit..."

"Michaellllll. Oh, we've missed you since last night are you okay?" asked a Barista in pink lips and smokey eye makeup-- she dawned an apron but otherwise, sported shiny club gear under. Deblin was suddenly very interested in the contents of her mug and ducked her head. The less people knew about her and the connection to what happened in that motel, the better.

"Some of the other girls and I haven't seen you spin at the club down on 13th st in a while..." she pouted and then leaned over "we miss you" she added in a baby doll voice. From this angle, Deblin caught a good eyeful of exposed hip-- and a little crown tattoo just were the side of the apron didn't cover. The woman poured more coffee into his cup.

Deblin squinted at the tattoo. A king's crown...Why is that familiar? The two of them exchanged some words and then when she left the table Deblin's eyes were left lingering after her. Michael arched a brow. Yeah... I guess that did seem a little lesbian of me... Meh... "So... she ... seems nice?"

---

"He cooks? Yikes. You guys should just have sex now and get it over with."

"Yikes..." Deblin looked cautiously over her shoulder, making sure she wasn't being over heard. "Yikes, doesn't even begin to cover it, Garth. He adopted a stray dog...just what in the hell am I supposed to do with that?"

"... Look if you don't want him, send him over my way--- please."

"I'm fairly sure he doesn't play for your team, bub."

"That's too bad."

Deblin thought about this a moment, and decided she disagreed. "He's a nice guy. I feel bad for duping him like this-- and saying that. I'm going to need a few things delivered in the morning..."

"Sure thing sweetheart. Guns and panties it is!"
"I'm serious G., what Zero pulled back there--"
"No. That little bitch is already going down. Relax, I was just thinking that while you had a moment alone with Saint Michael there..." his tone trailed off suggestively.

"Not this time." Deblin waved over across the room at Michael and motioned to him that she'd be just another moment. She had waited patiently for him to slip into the men's room before she made her way to the pay phone.

"Still got it bad for your mystery guy, huh?"
"He's not a mystery, he's an enigma."
"No honey. How you wear your hair in the morning to the office, that is an enig--eni... you get the idea. Shit. It's way too late over here on the west coast. I'll have your parcel delivered to you 8 am sharp. You ready to memorize these coordinates?"

Deblin closed her eyes and pressed a hand to the side of her mouth. She liked to rehearse the information out loud and didn't want to run the risk of someone reading her lips. Got it. 8 am ... Sheesh that was early. She guessed she'd have to sleep early or not at all in order to get there in time. She hung up the phone and then strode over to Micheal who was busy carting their trash over to a bin.

"Michael... I'm sorry. I've kinda had a change of heart... mind if I sleep in? I wanted to get an early start on tomorrow."

Avan-Sol

"You have 2 minutes to tell me what the fuck is going on, or I'm out of here to find UIrich on my own, my way. Leaving you and yours to deal with anyone you might have pissed off. You understand me, Helen?"

Dirk walks in and then instantly regrets doing so. Damien is pissed-- and okay, that wasn't something new-- he points angrily at Helen, who is brandishing a toy gun and staring blankly at Tyrus who has his sword impaled into a young boy.

Something about that last part...

"It's going to take more than a few minutes Damien- who the hell is he? Tell him to put away that butter knife--"
"Put down the gun, first."
"You don't trust me? Fine, it's not like I was rushing back here to save you or anything--"
"You are a kidnapping, lying, maniup--"
"You. Damien. YOU. Are a cheating, insensitive, holier-than-thou-- "
"Tyrus, we're back to base. Looks like she's high as fuck--"
"Trust me, asshole. I have never been this sober in my entire life."
"I'm the asshole?"

The three of them are slowly starting to get louder as they exchange some dicey shots about things far beyond his scope; all of them seemingly completely oblivious to the gutted kid on the end of Tyrus' sword. Which means...The boy is busy staring at Damien with a thoughtful expression and then seems bemused when he looks at his own hands. He waves a palm right in front of O'Shalna's face and then frowns as Damien flat out ignores him. Dirk watches him a moment too long and as the boy turns his head to meet his stare. He blinks in surprise and then smiles, parting his lips to speak. But before the boy can get a word out, Dirk exasperated, says "Nope." spins and trips over the chaise lounge; Helen, Damien, and Tyrus pause for a moment, casting him an annoyed look as he runs out of the room leaving his second roll behind. His mumbles 'shit' a bunch of times as his fingers fumble trying to unlock the door to his own room.

"Wait!"

A voice calls out to him. But in the next moment the door is open and he shoves it closed and twists the lock. Not that any of it would help...He knocks frantically on the bathroom door. Selen isn't out yet? How long could it take to have a shower? A large, toothless old woman answers "You want in, sonny? Come wash granny's back, young buck."

"Eeeuuurgh. You even added liver spots?" he covers his eyes, momentarily thrown off by her choice in form. Last night, things got pretty weird with them staying up late, playing Guess Who and pooling bets on how long it would take for Helen or Damien to come begging to swap rooms. They got slightly buzzed off the last of her stash. "Listen, Helen's is down two against one in there arguing and I'm hung over seeing things again-- too tired to break it up, myself. Get in there and calm things down before things get messy." The door bursts open and old lady sprints nude for a pair of slacks. Selen's form melts and shivers as she chooses a the guise of a dark, dangerous looking hulk-type.

"Good thing I went for back up last night, right?" he-she replies while rushing over to the fridge and scooping up several plastic bags of groceries. "I'm pretty sure everyone's just really hungry... and it's either this or a can of whoop-ass, for breakfast," Selene adds darkly.

The door opens and slams as he is left alone. Alone... at last.. Dirk sighs and then jumps at a voice in the room.


"You can see me, can't you?"

Dirk hisses, "No, I can't!" It always started out this way. Gods. Demons. Whatever else he accidentally made eye contact with.
"I realize you must get this a lot, but I need your help..." says the boy, "...it's about that guy in there."
"Who, Damien?"
The boy's face lights up "That's his name?"
"Unless you mean Tyrus?"
"The tall one."
"You mean Damien, yeah. Wait. No. What the hell. I'm not suppose to be talking to you."
"Why, not?"
"Because you're about to tell me something that I probably don't want to know."
"Maybe... but it's important. I'm not going to be around much longer..."

Dirk watched the spirit's form flicker under the florescent lighting. It was strange, he didn't see very many normal spirits these days. Especially ones that didn't bleed from the eyes or crawl up walls and shit. He leaned in closer, "You seem familiar, did you pass away recently?"

"I hope not." the boy says seriously, "I haven't even been born yet."

"Oh." The tips of Dirk's ears redden with realization. He'd met unborn souls before. But never actually spoke to any directly. It was a big part of the reason he was uncomfortable dating. Try courting a girl while finding out mid-way through she's about to bake bread with another fella. Disturbing as fuck, is what it is. But why now? As far as he knew the only two that seem to get any action around here are-- he sinks lower in his chair-- eyeing the boy's squared, structured jaw and broad shoulders. In response, the boy grins unsure of himself, and then in a movement Dirk is convinced is genetic, the boy rakes his hand through the front of his hair....Sweet berries and cream... "I'll never be able to look him in the eye again...never..." the elf groans miserably into his palms.

The boy shrugged "Avan told me it'd be alright to ask you a favor."
"Avan? Yeah. Nice try." Dirk clicked his tongue nervously and then began to whistle furiously in order to block out anything else the boy might say.
"Avan-sol" the boy said.
Dirk paused a moment, and then shrugged. "Don't use words you don't know the meaning of..."
"Right because I might not exist." the boy's mouth, Dirk notices, is a little too full to be Damien's exact copy, "-- my mother's life is in danger. I might not get to be born. Avan sent me to warn you about an underground lake?"

"No! I don't want to know. If Avan wanted me to be warned he would have shown up himself. But he hasn't. All this time... I'm the only person I know who sees things. All this time and I haven't seen Avan, once. Is he too busy? The O'Shalna brothers weren't his only family. All of us were like his family. Everyone in Central Forest knew him. Why'd he have to sent Damien-goddamn-O'Shalna's unborn kid to tell me a message? Oh sure, I've got a message for tiger-boy. Shtah' Lem' Vesht. Meaning, Wrap it before you tap it. I'm done." The elf stands and heads back in the direction of the hallway, "This situation is officially, janked." he was rearing and ready to be anywhere else but alone with something that only he could see. He doesn't give the boy a chance to speak anymore as he marches with hands over his ears back across the hall and braces himself for more yelling-- probably aimed at him for barging in.

Instead, the smell of coffee and pancakes hits him full force. Helen is asking Tyrus:
"Did you wash your hands?"
"Yes ma'am"
"Damien leave some bacon for the rest of us-- Tyrus before you pick up that fork-- swear on The Scripture you washed your hands."
"I swear it."
"Selene, bring Dirk and come help me with the spread-- they're eating faster than I can make them."
"Oi! Steal my bacon will ye'?"
"I'm pulling rank" Damien barks. But as he tips his head back to make a show of his leadership, Tyrus nicks a sausage link from his plate. Stealth as fuck.

"What's going on?"
"Helen's been filling everyone in," Selene says to him and then extends out a pipping mug of black coffee. He accepts it bewildered and she adds, "Still a little tense. But I was right about the breakfast. I'm sure you remember how it was in training..."

He did. And that was perhaps the singular thing the Sea Tigers needed. Better food. Most of them were college boys in their prime with unsurpassed knowledge in swordsmanship and dedication strong enough to create the most efficient grassroots army Central Forest had ever seen...Absolutely, zero cooking skills though. Smart move working up a man from the gut. Selene had probably anticipated this peace offering as soon as she knew Sea Tigers would be involved. Dirk would wonder briefly, what else these girls had up their sleeves. "Hey... Leave me some-- I like pecans in my hotcakes..." he mumbled and took the only open seat next to Tyrus.

Helen and Selene worked methodically together, flipping, frying, whisking. There was something about being full enough to relax, yet still hungry enough to enjoy food with plenty of it still to come, that just mellowed the hell out of a man. For about an hour, it almost felt like there was no rebellion or missing Ulrich. They were just young and hungry.

"I have some theories about who she is-- The Widow operates through scrambled signals but her intentions are pretty obvious."
"Someone in the government to have access to real firepower."
"Exactly. And if she's on really on our side- Avan really had some friends in high places- that's indispensable help."
"What if she's baiting us?"
"Why would she though? I mean in this way. Seems like too much effort. I have a feeling she's on our side."
"And that silver ball?"
"We have to come up with a way to open it. I have no clue aside from shooting it open"

When Dirk looked over, he spotted Damien and thought maybe he was a little too interested into his conversation with Helen. His expression had softened considerably since this morning but still gravely serious as she pressed a washcloth into his scraped forehead. Helen's cheeks were flushed pinkish with heat of cooking...Smug as hell. The guy was clearly posturing a full belly. Dirk maybe wasn't book smart. But he knew a thing or two about the effects of a plate of eggs done to perfection, what it could do to tame the beast within.

Dirk choked on his last sip of coffee as the spirit-boy poked his head from behind her shoulder. He eyed Helen's ears and then touched his own as if somehow making a comparison, watching his parents converse with utter captivation. Most unborn souls were like that though. Dirk almost felt sorry for him, though. Had he arrived on any other recent day, he'd be seeing a whole different side of things. "I'm running out of time. I'll need to manifest soon...keep her away from the lake, okay?" the boy says sadly, eyeing the way Helen snickers and then nibbles at her bottom lip in a way that seems to make O'Shalna sit up a little straighter. Good food makes everyone soft... by dinner they'll be at each other's throats.

The boy's outline shimmers, and then becomes white ray of light unseen and sucked into pinpoint in her lower abdominal region through the channel of Helen's navel. By the end of it she shudders, and Dirk knows what she'll say next before she makes the excuse.

"I think maybe I ate too fast?" Helen gets up and then makes her way to the bathroom.

Dirk wondered if he should say anything. He looks at Damien and is about to speak when:

"What?" O'Shalna scowls.

Maybe keeping the secret will help him cope with all the flack he gets around here. He's supposedly crazy, anyways, right? Yeah. They can find out in a couple of weeks the old fashioned way. Aside from the bit about an underground lake, it wasn't any of his business.

"Nothing." Dirk whispers into his plate. "Nothing at all, slim."

Record Spinner & Spy Dancer

Actually... aside from humor... I have ideas on how lil Boon is going to play a role later on. >_> It's a secret though.

Record Spinner & Spy Dancer

An extra bed, empty drawers, and then he mentioned me ought to having be in a wheelchair. Twice. "...I thought maybe you could call a friend and get them to bring some of your stuff over..." he was saying. And then when we had made it out of the hospital: "O shit...Ashley I completely blanked...I can fix this." he said something about a cab. I suppose I should have been a little more facilitating. Micheal... The poor guy seemed nervous about something. I smiled and nodded once in a while to give the impression that I was listening. I'm a really good listener...

Once, I piped up with, "I wouldn't risk anyone going back to that place... I'm sure I've got enough grant money left to go shopping for a weeks worth of clothing tomorrow." After I scour your place for bugs and rig it for alarms while you sleep...

"Tomorrow?" he sounded a little unsure and then his eyes widened as my bottom lip wobbled. "Oh, right-- I'm sure I've got an extra shirt or something..." he said some more things and made a joke or two about having to clean up on my behalf. More things. More words... More...

Zero...I know you're still here in Miami. I can feel it... And when I find you, pray I have a gun or else I'll--

"Ashley?"

"I'm sorry." I reached across from me, set my hand on top of his and then looked him dead in the eyes, "You were saying something about music?"

"Yes, in fact I... ....DJ ... nightlife... ... but between that... ....grading papers... ... do you.... nice... very friendly... ... found him on the side of the curb... allergic to them?"

Four years I've trusted you, and you're going to pull this on me, now? I'm not going to hold back. Count your breaths Zero, they are numbered.

"Yes." I said after I noticed he was waiting for me to speak.
"Really?" he frowned.
"I mean, no." I corrected.
"Oh! Good. Don't worry he's old and loves just about everyone."
"Great" I replied automatically "When do I get to meet him?"
"Looks like this is it. Top floor, Boon's inside waiting for us."

Wait, who is Boon?

---

"Boon is a dog." I hissed, "You didn't tell me Boon is a dog."

The ugliest dog I have ever seen in my life comes bounding to greet us with short yips and heavy breathing. It sort of looks like it could be a pug, but mostly likely a mutt. Rat dog. I grimace. That's what it reminds me of. Micheal smiles at me and it's only then that I notice both of my arms are gripping his, tightly. "Funny, Ashley." he says and then gently pries me from his arm to reach into the cabinet. When he pulls out a jar of dog treats, he motions for me to watch "So far he can only do one trick. Sit. Sit, Boon..." he commands the dog, "Sit-- no, no over here." Micheal laughs and then assures me that his dog isn't normally 'like this' and that 'he's old but sharp' and more words... more words...

I'm busy staring down the dog.

This is my house bitch. it said to me. It sits there panting. Without even having done anything physically challenging... Just there... panting... pretentiously...maniacally...
Used to be. Now it's mine. To make a point I move closer to Micheal and reach out to put an arm over his shoulder.

Boon begins to growl. When I'm sure Micheal isn't looking, I cross my eyes and make a face at it. Boon begins to go crazy. Barking and popcorning up and down on weak hind legs. Micheal kneels down and begins to pet the little fiend and eventually it calms down.

Smug, bug-eyed bastard. We'll see who he's petting between the ears eventually. Give a day tops, Boon. There is a sudden sharp pain in my ribs. Make that a few days...

Micheal mentioned having to grade papers. I assured him that it was fine with me and that I'd probably take another nap or have a look around the place if he didn't mind. It was nice in an urban bachelor pad sort of way. It all amounted to one large open space with furniture that designated the living areas. Yes. Just about everything was satisfactory and I offered to pay for pizza around noon while we both made a day of studying and lounging around. I skimmed books from his shelves (Or rather, I checked behind spines for hidden microphones), I took a nap in front of his television (Checked between the cushions), and even helped him grade a few papers (searched his desk when he wasn't looking).

---

Night time:

"You seem more awake at night" I noted.
"You, too." he said.

We looked at each other a moment. As if deciding on something. I don't get it. What's he looking at?

Avan-Sol

Clip One of Three Two from the Blue Lion...

Play

Time: 0002

[A picture cuts on to pan around the inside of a metal room, patches of ice and shelves of frozen animal carcasses gives the suggestion of someplace freezing. The size indicates an industrial meat locker. The camera continues to pan slowly in a full circle, then stops to train on the corpse of a young man. It zooms in slowly to show that he is chained and suspended from a hook in the ceiling. He hangs motionless between the body of two hollowed out pigs... A large spatter of blackish blood sticks frozen to the wall behind the body and his red hair is shown to be caked with frost. The camera zooms in tighter to his face, capturing the graphic details of open wounds and two blackened eyes; Ulrich stares unblinkingly with blue lips parted.]

"Thank you Hector, please realize that you did the right thing by agreeing to provide us with information."

[The camera pans back quickly to the opposite side of the room. Two figures. A man, whose face is blurred out; a large Orc, who huddles under a quilt and cradles a steaming mug.]

"Make sure he's bound tight. I don't want that kid escaping and then coming after m--"

"Any colder, and he really will die. We can't have that...Would you like anything to eat, Mr. Faust? Apologies for earlier, had we known you were so willing to cooperate we would have had something prepared for you."

"I want him tortured some more. Break his will, make it so that he screams again. Ice em' to the neck."
"We can assure you that the O'Shalna boy is no threat to you in this state. Your suggestion of placing the Will-O-Wisp in a cooler worked nicely."
"I guess. Aye, how cold would you say it is in here?"
"The temperature is well into the negatives. You are safe Hector."
"Sure you can't get it any colder than that?"
"We're sure. Now Mr. Faust, can you tell us what you and your friends were doing out by the waterways?"
"I was on Kingly orders, sir. Just doin' what I was told."
"I see. There was another person with you according to Mr. Nade'catcher... Can you tell us where they are, now?"
"You mean to tell me that's his actual name?"
"Focus, Hector."
"Yeah. There was a girl with us-- she escaped back into his little tent kingdom, though."
"And, how do we gain access to Ulrich's kingdom?"
"Only when The Path reveals itself to you--"
"Everyone is aware of that-- but how do we get it to appear for certain?"

"Beats me." [Faust shrugs as he takes a sip from his mug and then points lazily to something off camera] "Ask him...Careful though, he looks pissed."

[ The image blurs with motion as the camera swings back to it's previous position; Ulrich's body is shown to be missing. The lens of the camera tightens, as if curious, on the ground below. A puddle of iron lay steaming. A cameraman screams off frame and the angle shifts sags at an angle that now captures pairs of feet being lifted from the ground. Loafers and sneakers are shown to be engulfed in blue flame, and then socks, and then skin.... and finally bone...Shadows flicker against the wall and icicles from the tips of hooves begin to drip and sizzle as they hit the ground. Several minutes pass before a black, powdery substance begins to pour center-shot. Orc feet shuffle into view and then fidget slightly. A moment passes followed by heavy breathing. The fleeting image of a ghostly figure on fire passes in front of view. Hector's own legs take a step backwards. At this point, the camera lens fogs over with steam as the audio continues to role...]

"Nice work warming it up--any longer and my outtie would have been an innie --woah-- slow down, Torch. Remember our deal. You still need me."

"I haven't forgotten, Faust--" [There is a hissing punch thrown off camera and Hector groans.] "The freezer idea was passing. But next time, hold off on all suggestions of torture, will you?"

"Hurrnnph... I had to make it seem real, didn't I? ...Urgh- that burns....and you've just set off the fire alarm... I don't suppose you have a plan to get us out of here?"

"I don't. My fire won't hold outside this place, either."

"Excellent. When's lunch?"

[The sound of loud knocking accompanied by shouts of concern and inquiry. Hector can be heard laughing maniacally, as the sound of crackling flames eventually drowns out the rest of the audio.]

[Phhhhhhssss....Shhhhh....]

Play two

The woman in black seems unaware of her being recorded, her gaze is fixed downwards and she sings gently, "I love you more than sugar. More than air. More than anything can compare. My sweet precious pear." Slowly, she drags her gaze upwards and into the camera. Verona Spider, stares quietly a moment before speaking. Her gaze is hypnotic in the way that they were not her own humdrum, brown human eyes. They churned instead with something that was even more familiar. Azure, cobalt, sapphire all lapsing into waves of murky cerulean. The sea, the lake, rivers, clouds, glaciers, rain, all aspects of the water were represented in some hue of another. These were not her eyes.

These were the eyes of Avan O'Shalna.

"Damien...Helen...what I am about to tell you is for your eyes and ears only." It takes her a few moments until she's able to manage it, but finally she stands up. The folds of her blouse is dragged taught by gravity and her pregnant belly sags awkwardly as she begins to pace the length of the room. Both knees wobble precariously as if she is still unused to the new physics of her body.

Pressing both hands into the small of her back, she sighed deeply; a tired and weighty sound that translated through hologram as static haze. "I've missed you both very much, and Ulrich t-too..." her eyes ripple as if real seawater were about to spill over on to her cheeks, Verona stops herself and then shakes her head, "Sorry...I'm just a little emotional these days...After Daddy found out about my pregnancy he shipped me out of state. To Texas. Texas of all places. Can you believe it? He's going to run for president soon but he can't even stand the sight of his own daughter." a low hiccup and she continues, "Helen I'm sorry for leading you on like this, but I had to make sure that I wasn't being traced."

The image on the hologram shifts and pans around a crowded street, where people are holding up signs like "Tree? Beats Me!" and "New York HATES Tree Shaggers". Fire hydrants and water fountains rattled with some uncertainly. Storm clouds gather and swirl with pent up anger. Three figures stand atop the steps of city hall. Two of them tall. One short. It takes a moment for the image to focus before one realizes that this is a recording that had taken place almost a year ago. Avan, flanked by both brothers, was addressing the crowd, talking over the low murmur. This was the day New York had cast it's deciding vote that peoples of more than one-seventh's Fae blood could not possess the right to vote in state or federal issues.

"Fae is less a race than it is a metaphor for a political circumstance subscribed by struggles against economic exploitation and cultural domination: a state of consciousness that peoples of various races have experienced. Undeserved, because it is well known that since the dawn of existence, Man and Faerie kind have intermingled. The ridiculous notion of racial superiority and sticking to one's own race is only a few hundred years old. What I am trying to say dear Brothers and Sisters, is that we are all Earth's children.

Julius Caesar, Napoleon Bonaparte, George Washington were all documented with some amounts of orc blood--- however with the exception of perhaps, Napoleon who was rumored to be Gnomish. We know this. We know this and we have granted Fae the rights to marry. We have granted them the right to a fair and speedy trial. Yet the great state of New York will not grant us the right to vote? Brothers and Sisters if Faeries are not allowed to vote, then by definition nobody should have the right to vote. There is magic in everyone's veins-- why discriminate by drops and ounces? Why persecute those of us who may look different or those of us who possess the abilities of our ancestors?

Brothers and Sisters we are on the brink of a revolution! A revolution that has been building in the pit of our souls for generations. Do not fear the growing vines, the ever tangling roots. Do not fear your restless cattle. Fear the locusts! Fear the encroaching concrete-- because it is America Incorporated that will be the death of you. Not trees which bear you fruit. But the city of locusts! The hive mind of greed with enslaves you with convenience!"

The image shimmers and winks out of existence before blinking back to Verona's face. "Do you remember that day? I do. Daddy was in such a rage." Her face lights up with delight and in her giggling, she gives a little snort. "Listen. We are going to get Ulrich back. And we are going to beat these sons of bitches at their own game. It's not going to be easy." she warned, "But if all we can do is at least make a small dent in our lifetimes, that will have been all Avan wanted us to do. Right now we live for the pride our children will feel when they invoke our names to the future generations. Change is brewing." For emphasis, she grabs her own belly "Damien. Unlike Ulrich, you are able to inhibit Avan's rage in order to bring justice to your kind. You are Gaia's sword-- and for now, you are Avan's only living, and breathing example of what it takes to shake this city and it's inhabitants to it's very foundation--" she winces and then staggers backward, reaching around behind her Verona then collapses back into her leather oxblood chair, "Sorry... I get carried away." she rubs her belly, "Hopefully, Damien your little nephew will be able to hold down the front lines with you soon enough." she adds in a small whisper, "Helen, don't let em' get you tied down, fae-babies do some freaky things to a girl..."

"As for Ulrich... I only know as much as Avan would tell me. But he spoke of Ulrich discovering him as a boy. I believe that dryad Nimmy would know more about this.... but as I understand it Avan is all Ulrich knows." she purses her lips as if straining to articulate her meaning, "They were both just boys without parents. Avan was a little older so he became not only his brother.. but like a father figure. Damien you grew up thinking you were human. That must have been very confusing and difficult. But Avan's death has given you strength and fuel--- while Ulrich...he... he's in complete denial." she frowns, "I know you two are sometimes at odds, but you have to realize he's never known anything else. He's never been anything else, but a Fae. I'd be willing to bet you're the only one who can make him see reason."

The walls of the room emit a high pitched screech and zzzzzshhhhh as previously unseen paneled sections depress and flip. Weapons. Guns. Swords. Bows. Axes. Smoke pellets-- contraptions that looked too complicated to prove useful. Keys to what looked like army tanks, and fighter jets. Models of hoverboards that hadn't even been released yet, communicators, preserves, shields. Rows and rows of modern and streamlined Sea Tiger uniforms... Enough for a small army.

"Damien and Helen? Say hello to several billion in taxpayer money. We are not only going to rescue Ulrich. We are going to grab who ever did this to my brother-in-law, by the balls and we are going to make em' sing." she finishes off in a southern drawl and mumbles something about the Texas accent being 'catchy'. "There are a group of humans who Ulrich and I believe are behind the recent Goblin attacks. Somewhere below this hotel is the entrance to the underground Goblin territories. Get in, get out, and we can get back on track to realizing Avan's drea--"

Pfffftt-sshhhh

"I've got a better idea, Verona." A man's face, fuzzes and then flickers crisp on screen "How about, Damien his little girlfriend here, along with everyone in this whole fucking hotel along with the first fifty feet of it's foundation explodes into a million little pieces?" he chuckles delightedly, and then claps "My wish I could see the looks on your faces... oh wait! I can!" he is in hysterics now, "I've got cameras everywhere! Ahhhh... but forgive me. You see, I have not properly introduced myself."

"You may call me Gideon."

"And since Ulrich and that delinquent Orc has somehow managed to escape our custody, I am going to give you a fighting's chance to save him and yourselves. How about that, yes? Splendid. Now." he smiles cheerfully, "No doubt you will find Ulrich somewhere in the tunnels below, but remember little ones, I've got the first fifty feet rigged to blow-- you will convince the Goblin Don to give us access to the underground lake. And, annnnnd as an added bonus, you will also convince Ulrich to tell us how he get's that wonderful 'Path' of his to appear. You have three days to accomplish this modest favor."

He gives a little wave and then the image shrinks into non-existence.

[It's such a shame that all that firepower will go to waste in the explosion...I just found a satisfactory image of Verona]

Verona Spider

Shown without her normal eye color.

Record Spinner & Spy Dancer

I'm glad! (Actually, it's a rather nice place if you ask me-- I like that sort of singles-city look though.) Woop woop will maybe post tonight or tomorrow morning~

I'm going out on a limb and possibly have your character say a few lines to make it flow smoother. Saying that, do not be shy in letting me know if I need to edit my post after I spin it out there.

Record Spinner & Spy Dancer

Nice. I'm on now if you need help with some quotes from my end. ~