The Fauxtrot

Record Spinner & Spy Dancer

Is it strange that I picture his pad to look like this:



Like industrial and warehouse-ish but also a little messy like a guy without time would live there.

Let's just hope he does not have a dog because my character is like...secretly scared of little dogs.
xD

Record Spinner & Spy Dancer

I remembered clear as day one hot summer in Hokkaido, Japan, and the geisha Tsukiko's words of wisdom:

"A believable lie is like a fan dance. Just as a geisha's fan opens and closes...Your lie must also expose parts of the truth...You see Miss Debli--AHHRRCK!"
(That last part is where I plugged her twice in the head for trying to slash my throat with a razor version of said fan.)

Micheal was a great guy. A kiss on the cheek and a few false tears from me were all it took to seal the deal. Things played out pretty smoothly, by the end of it the hospital agreed to let me go home with him in the morning. I waved Micheal goodbye and gave him what I thought to be a sad, feeble smile.

This was the lie that I told:

"I don't know what happened..."
Fan closed.
"My parents? Oh god, Michael--Please don't make me tell them. My mother and father, they're really old and can't take the stress of traveling cross-country to come see me. I feel fine. Mostly. It's just the mental shock... "
Fan open.
"...the police? I already explained to everyone that I can't remember anything about the explosion...maybe... the water heater in that motel was bad.."
Fan closed.
"I don't really have a place I can stay. Everything I brought back from studying abroad is gone... I'm s-scared..."
Fan open.
"I'm surprised you came to visit me... Y'know I've always thought you were a really nice guy...Now I know it's true."
Fan closed.
"R-really? You...you'd let me stay with you? I don't know what to say aside from thank you. Thank you so much. I'll be out of your hair in a week, I swear. I just need to gather myself up and figure things out..."

---

The next morning:

"What?"

The nurse's eyes bulged in surprise. The patient gave only slight pause at her arrival but then continued counting. She was puffing on half a cigarette-- cussing something fierce about the number Zero while doing handstand push ups. Naked. Her hospital gown had been carelessly tossed aside over the face of the muted television. "Miss-- you really should be resting! And there's no smoking in the hos--"

"Did you wash my clothes?"

"...Yes and there is something I have to ask you about that..." the nurse watched as the young woman curls her knees into her chest and rights herself. Takes a few deep yoga-breaths, and then sighs. The nurse purses her lips in anxiety.

When the patient speaks, her eyes narrow as she flicks the cigarette into the waste bin without looking, her voice is light and casual and does not match her burning gaze. "Yes. I do suppose you will have some questions about that... Have you told anyone?"

"No. I think when you find as many knives and guns strapped to one person as I did you that it would be pretty stupid to tell," the nurse wrings her wrists and then continues "I don't want no trouble-- I have a son who's in the green berets so I understand how these things can be."

"Green Berets? Nice. I've dated a few fellas with the uniform. Decent guys." she points to a thin scar just below her waist "Until you stop returning their calls."

The nurse swallows hard and then for the first time takes a good look at the girl. After the initial shock of her extreme nude workout, she notices just how banged up her body really was. Part of her torso had been wrapped in gauze to cover the majority of the bruises and cuts, but still she could see older markings. Most of them were harder to spot with her pale complexion. But they were there if you looked for them. Thin ones... Round ones... A few darker ones that looked like burns. There is no Ashley Deblin in our medical records...

"I trashed it all in the lake. I don't know who you are or what you do but since you remind me so much of my Charlie, I'll let it slide this once." she watches as the young woman's eyes widen incredulously; something maternal sweeps her and she adds "I also have a daughter who's older now. I figured you'd be about her size, too." She deposits a yellow sundress with tiny green flamingos printed on the front.

The patient smiles "I like you..." she reads the nurses name tag, while eyeing the sundress poker-faced, "Donna...I really like you. But really... what did you do with my guns?"

Donna replies sweetly, "They're in the Okeechobee lake!" she waits patiently until young woman is done swearing in what sounds like a few different languages before adding "Oh and dear, your boyfriend is at the front desk waiting for you--"

"He's not my-- Ah. Yes... Sorry." she clears her throat, runs a hand through her hair and quickly pulls on the sundress. "Thank you, let him know I'll be right out"

"You have to be in a wheelchair until you are off hospital property. It's the rules."

"Don't push me, Donna."

Record Spinner & Spy Dancer

It wasn't the FBI or the CIA. Those hacks from fed and state moved too slow and had too much red tape for what she did. She told him once that it was less paperwork and more money-- that's about all it amounted to for her-- but he knew better. He knew the real reason why they ended up in Miami so soon after the last job went bust. Zero moved the ice pack off of his jaw where she had slugged him hard. Squinted at his refection in the mirror, and winced. Not pretty.

Maybe he should think about retirement.

"Hey, ugly." she said, in what he might consider an affectionate tone, "I'm going down to the cafe. Do something useful and find us a place to live will ya'? We might be here a while." She paused at the doorway and scrunched her eyebrows together, "Zero? Something wrong?"

"No more."
"Huh?"
"You heard me Deblin, I want out."
"Not this again. Look, if it's about the money--"

"It's not about the money. It's about you." he braces himself as her green eyes widen with confusion. That didn't fool him either though. In fact, he had the sinking feeling this had been her plan all along. Fine. Even if it was her plan, he still wanted this to happen. "It's about you treating me like I'm a liability. So... s-so you can just take your stuff from this motel room and go elsewhere." He hated how his voice stumbled, it was supposed to be his final declaration, dammit, he was supposed to be the boss of this moment.

"Fine. If that's really how you feel..." she said softly, "but just know, Zero. Whatever they're paying you, it's not worth your life. "

"What are you talking ab--"
"Drop the act." she says flatly. "It's not working."
"I seriously don't think you get what this is about."

She holds up a cellphone. His cellphone. Zero watched her type in the number to unlock it with a bewildered expression. 9-8-7-2-0--- .. Her thumb hovers over the number 7. She stares at him a moment as if deep in thought. Mumbles something like 'fuck', under her breath when he doesn't make a motion to react. Taking the device between her fingers she slides the battery case open to reveal...

Shit.

"See? It's just a regular cellphone. You're losing it, kid."
"Zero-- I.. I'm really sorry... you have been acting strangely lately and I just thought that.. "

Tick. Tick. Boom

---

The last thing I remember before going under is Zero's smiling face hovering over mine.

"Think you're so fucking smart don't you?" he grins, "You never thought I could rig an entire minibar during a two minute shower, did you?"

The outline of his face is blurred but I can smell the cheap cologne on his neck. Sensation in my fingertips go numb. What the hell did he hit me with? I feel his lips press against mine and then I have one last thought before blackness: Explosives experts... After the big bang it's all downhill from there...

---

It's dark when I wake up in the hospital. Whatever Zero hit me with wasn't enough to kill me-- I do a body check-- and then scowl. I'm fine. Zero wanted me alive so that I would chase after him. They clock says I've been out almost a day. I look over at the night stand. And sure enough. Flowers. Daises (my favorite). I rip the envelope that came attached to them and yeah, it's from who I thought it was. I read the note out loud. "Dear Deblin: I want to fuck you."

Only the letter left out the word "I" and the part about him wanting to. Still, it was pretty damn obvious.

There's the sound of shoes- women's non-slip size eight- shuffling outside of my door. I look up and a nurse comes in surprised to see me sitting up and smiling (I slipped the note under the mattress). "Hold on, I'll see if she's awake-- Oh! You're up? Good. Looks like there's a young man named Michael here to see you..."

Avan-Sol

I awoke at nine in the morning to the sound of the world ending. The apocalypse was finally happening-- humanity had pissed off Gaia for the last time. Earthquakes, rapture--- Damien fucking O'Shalna snoring.

I sat up rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and cussing him out under my breath. "This is why we couldn't live together--" I stopped when I noticed the way in which he had fallen asleep. There were two beds in the hotel room. And just like a male, he chose to fall asleep on a couch in front of the television. Eh? The Red Sox won? I'd better turn this off before he wakes up... I reached over him to motion for television to turn off.

His hand snapped out and caught my wrist as the shadow of my arm crossed his face, he squeezed hard. "Ah-ahooww-Da-" I knew he wasn't awake, but it hurt. With my other hand, I pinched the bridge of his nose. The snoring stopped. His hand wasn't letting go. "Cummon... don't make me do it... don't make me..."

We played chicken for a few more moments and I wondered bleakly how anyone could sleep though this. I lost, and let go of his nose, "Fuggin'sox" he mumbled, and then his hand went slack with sleep.

"I feel ya' buddy... I feel you..." rubbing my wrist I headed straight to the intercom. "I need room service"
['Yes, what may we bring to you madam?']
"I need" I held my breath, glanced over at Damien, and then asked in a small voice "I need the Blue Lion"
['...It may be a moment, is that okay?']
"How long?"
['About an hour']
"Fine."
['Anything else we can bring you? Breakfast?']
"None for me. But I will need a board. Bring what ever you have available I'm not picky about the model"
['Yes madam right away']

A thought occurred to me. I made a mad dash to the bathroom. Flat lined when I saw that the button that said "Cosmic Sun Bath". A then emerged half an hour later rebirthed into some semblance of my former life. I eyed myself in the mirror and almost laughed: metal soled boarding boots, hair gelled and tousled into perfection, siren led lips, shades. Hello Drizzy baby, it's been a while, no?

There was a polite knock at the door and I snatched the board from the service guy and reached into his left pocket where I knew he kept complimentary chewables. "Do you have the Blue Lion?" He looked confused and I stopped him short, "That's okay. I'm going to go for a little run. I'll be back before it gets here."

"Madam, I--" I was sure he was going to say something about me riding on the board inside of the hotel but I really didn't care. It's not like I was hurting anyone-- rules. Pft. Snapping my gum. I'm sick of rules. A few people gasped on the staircase and hugged the flocked wallpaper the hoverboard slid down with relative smoothness. I tested the throttle. Not bad. I leaned backwards to test the breaks. Mmmhph, maybe a little delay on the breaks... I felt the wind leave my chest.

Thump.

"No boarding in the Ritz Carlton." The woman at the front desk stared me down. She held up a little tablet to show me that it was she who had cut out the magnetic grid to the lobby. Unclamping the braces from my board, I bent my knees and stood up from where I had fallen. She waited until I was three feet from the exit to cut the power off? I grinned my best 'fuck you' grin and lugged the board through the revolving doors.

Outside, New York felt great. It had been a while since I had hovered along the city's underground grid. Damn it felt good. Maybe I should have ignored mom and gone pro instead of going to college. I'm leagues better than any of the boys not counting... well... Avan's gone... So I suppose he doesn't count anymore... A sudden fluttering feeling comes to my chest. Not butterflies. Moths. An image of his dead body flashes through my mind and I begin to feel queasy.

[Eeep.]

Oh, hell. I pushed in the 'talk' button on my wrist and a woman's scrambled voice greeted me with:

The Widow: Where do you think you're going?
H: You can see me? I'm not surprised. How many fingers am I holding up?

I hold up both middle fingers, ducking and dodging pedestrians on the sidewalk-- some guy selling doughnuts calls me jank when I barely miss skiffing the top of his foodcart. Another vendor selling wristbands holds out his hand and I take the free 'Jaka Knee Vibrations' band and slip it on. Cruising a steady five in the walking lanes past a pack of girls with shopping bags. I spot the coffee vendor ahead and swoop in lower to swipe a java from the counter. It's okay. I didn't steal it, it's shitty and past the point of filter change. I was doing him a favor. I put the cup to my lips and cringe. Yeah. Hell, it's civic duty.

The Widow: It is not wise to jeopardize the mission.
H: Mission one. Bagel King.
The Widow: It is also not recommended that you get anymore involved with the O'Shalna boy.

Hot coffee splashes the back of my throat and I begin to cough. Holy shit, was she serious? I almost run into a pole but I reach out and swing my legs out in front to make a full circle heading right back to the hotel. Jamming my heel into the throttle I zip into the fast lane. Bagel King another time.

H: So, you were watching us then, too?
The Widow: It couldn't be helped.
H: That's messed up...can I have a copy?
The Widow: Miss Fenten, I would advise you to hurry back to the Ritz. It seems like there are some unexpected diversions occurring. Ask for Live Hardware at the front desk and open it somewhere unseen. Proceed with caution.
H: A gun?
The Widow: Precisely.
H: What the fuck am I going to do with a toy?
The Widow: Miss Fenten, Live Hardware I will be providing you is unlocked and able to be used by civilians--
H: That's impossible. Nobody can hack a gun to work unless they're in the gover-- Oh. I see.
The Widow: No more questions. Just Hurry. I believe the case may not be isolated for very long. We cannot afford to rouse the staff's attention.

---

I burst through the entrance only to fall flat on my face. "No boarding in the Ritz Carlton, Madam." the same lady who waved the tablet at me earlier clicked her tongue. I looked up but couldn't see my room from this vantage point. Still, I kept my eyes trained upwards for anything suspicious-- two staff. Big men far too large to just be bellboys walking fast towards the room, each of them appearing to cradle something under their blazers. Fuck. They've got guns too? What the hell is going on?. I get up. Fall. And then twist so that I'm turtle-up in the middle of the lobby. "Madam. There is no boarding in the Ri--"

"I know!" my fingers fumble unclamping my boots. "Just give me Live Hardware. It's listed under Fenten"

She watches me with a flummoxed expression, probably wondering if I was under the influence. Nevertheless, she vanished a moment only to reappear with a black case. "Here you go...Live Hardware. You going to the arcade with it?" Eyeing me with a funny look she waited with it behind the counter until-- My god did she actually expect a tip?. I lunged across the granite top and snatched the case. Looked up. The two men had disappeared.

"Not the elevator..." There was already a line waiting for it and the few carts with luggage that looked like it could require multiple trips. I reckoned if I could board my way up it would take me three seconds flat. "Hey." I said, "There's a kid over there pissing in the fountain."

Success. "Nooooooooooo pissing-- I mean-- urinating in the lobby!" As soon as she left I lifted my hips over the counter and switched the magnetic grid power button to 'on'. Gunned it to the board and hopped on without bothering to strap in.

My fingers felt cold. Steady. Something within me-- I dunno, grim determination-- whatever it was, I felt like a tigress before the kill. I sped down the hallway and unbuckled the case. It looked just like an arcade gun. My god. My stomach churned, erasing all previous feelings of confidence. It really just looks like a toy. The only difference, was that the black metal part did not light up or have a score screen with my name on it.

"Just a little longer..." I jump off the board and go tumbling with momentum while it speeds off to it's own accord and crashes into a door. Soundproof. Fuck. My first visit I had been grateful for it, (Damien's roar. A fetish? Sue me.) but now it killed me. Had they caught him while he was still sleeping? Selene, had she noticed? I'm about to double-tap someone in the head. Why am I okay with this?

When I opened the door, I raised the weapon with practiced aim. This isn't some arcade Helen... this is real. The room was silent. Blood streaked across the floor. "Damien...?" I whispered. Though I couldn't manage much more. My ability to form words had stopped.

I might have been the only woman in western hemisphere relieved to see a 900 pound tiger step from the around the corner "Jeeze... I wasn't sure... Are you bleeding?". The jungle cat growled a low, dangerous growl. It advanced on me and raised one paw to the front of my torso. Hardly flexing, it collapsed me and I watched nervously as the feline's claws slowly extended...

In the next moment it became a hand, gripping my shirt. "You're here," his face was carved out stone, "they didn't take you." A statement of the obvious. His face hovered over mine with a look of eerie calmness. Damien motioned to something by the wall. A silver sphere.

"The Blue Lion...?"

"Now how do we open it?"

"Good question."

I gave him another moment until he moved away and I sat up and felt privileged that he had allowed me to live. Where are the bodies? Who were the guys posing as hotel staff? And...Why is the window open?

Avan-Sol

The effects of the little device would wear off by the time we made it close to the Ritz, the silver adhesive would peel off with a proper shower. Probably. If not, madam would be most happy to assist--- What's this?

“We’ll need guys, my guys, we have to go back, we have to…”

For a terrifying moment, I thought that I had just killed him. The tranquilizer was only supposed to numb his limbs for an hour or so. But that he couldn't even finish a sentence-- I panicked. Two fingers just below the jaw confirmed a strong pulse.

That. And the snoring.

"Idiot..." I let out a long, deep breath I wasn't aware I had been holding. "I'm giving you two hours." I yawned, "Just two." I reached around and gripping my left arm, twisting over at the waist. I peered at him over my shoulder before hunching back over to the laptop, envious. "...gee, I wish someone could fuck me into submission..." either it was a coincidence or the bastard had actually heard me, a peeved tug of the lower lip suggested he might have. "Kidding," I said, "kidding."

Minor hyperbole aside, I was drained. Questions. Too many questions, they were the only thing that prevented me from curling into my own set of swan feather pillows. Oh, and not to mention Tiger-Blood here, snoring like a freight train. I fished around for some ear buds and inserted it's spongy tips. His roaring sleep dulled to an acceptable level. Some things never change. And what did he mean by saying Ulrich jumped him in the grotto? It's just one more thing I have to deal with. My list of chores:

1. Find Ulrich.
2. Kick his ass.
3. Find out what jumped the Sea Tigers.
4. Kick it's ass.
5. Take a vacation.

[Eeep]


[Would you like to accept invitation to this Chat Pod? ... ... Loading ... ... You are now in a conference with The Widow]

The Widow: Suite 203. Bring Damien as planned. Leave the rest behind. They will only be a liability.
H: There was something that jumped him in the grotto. Do you know anything?
The Widow: Ask for room service. Order the Blue Lion.
H: Finally feeling like showing your face?
The Widow: You will be delivered a package. For security, you will be unable to open it easily.
H: How about the alternative: You tell me who you are and what you know. Or I take Damien, skip town, and you can just eat me?
The Widow: I have no information on the Grotto incident. Once Ulrich is secured, you may have a better chance at finding the ones responsible.

[The Widow has logged off]

---

Two hours later I managed to wake him; midnight on the dot. By 12:30 A.M. he could move around, albeit sorely, and I began to tell him the basic outline of the situation. He didn't take it well. By 1:30 A.M. we had escalated to shouting at each other like typical New Yorkers, (and anyone who dared check on us: "THE FUCK ARE YOU LOOKING AT?!" we yelled in unison.) I shoved him, frustrated. He made the mistake of laughing. Shove. Shove. Slap.... By 2:00 A.M. our clothes were off again, (a boot to the face for poor Dirk Aearhil when he mistook our heated negotiations for something more sinister). Finally. Fiiiiiiiiiiinally. By the time Selene cleared her throat from beyond the flaps, we had reached a deal. 3:30 A.M.

I tumbled out of the palanquin dazed and badly in need of a cigarette.
"Your Majesty! How was it?" Selene eyed the doors of the palanquin tensed for a fight.
"Strenuous"
"H...How deplorable!"
"Well, what the hell sort of a question was that, anyhow?" If I was sleepy before, it was really kicking in now. My crabbing did nothing to deflate her.
"I meant, did you reach an agreement?" she lunged forward to catch me as I trip trying to keep up the march pace. My legs were jelly.
"Yeah." I raised my voice, making sure that you-know-who could hear me, "We do this my way. We help bring the rain on those jokers from the grotto."

He made a noise.

"And..." I winced, "...and...access to The Old Library..."
Selene raises both eyebrows. "Dude..." Dirk murmurs, "...nice..."

That last part I wasn't too sure about. Mostly, because I wasn't sure if it was my promise to make. Ulrich had personally sealed off access to The Old Library within hours of the news that Avan had been killed. He wouldn't tell me why or what was in there. But I knew that in order to get Damien's stubborn ass to even consider my proposition, I had to bring out the big guns.

---

“Welcome to the Ritz, sir and ma'am, help with your things?”

"Actually" I pivoted about-face, "Selene this might be a good time to mention that you have to go--"
"Nope." Her form takes on one of a much taller stature and gives me a 'try-me-punk', look.
Swallowing hard, "I was going to say that I need for you to check into the room across from us. After making sure the dancers know which path to take back home"
"Oh" her frame zips into that of a child's. She smiles sweetly, "Will my Queen spring for the costs of the mini-bar?"
Shrugging.
"Splendid!" the child exclaims delightedly; the bellboy smiles nervously "Dirk-- you amuse me. You will keep me company."
"I. What?" the Elf replies indignant as he is dragged off.

Damien is at the front desk running on less than three hours sleep, "We need suite 203. And clothes." he proceeded to tell the customer service representative his sizes and preferences and when to deliver them. I forgot that we had been here before. Once. A long time ago for... Christmas...

I trail miserably after him, shaking off a memory that threatened to surface; I leaned across the counter and sleep-slurred, "Clothes. And I want extra pillows. No. A mountain of pillows. And chocolate sauce. An Olympic sized pool of it, too. Got that?" That's how you had to be with these people. Ridiculous and demanding or else they won't take you seriously enough.

"R-Right away, Miss!"

We took an elevator up, I tipped the bellboy generously and told him thank you for insisting on carrying my laptop for me...little jank.... I swiped the card key, opening the door and looking up, I nearly wept. "The bed... it's... so... beautiful." Don't get me wrong. Ulrich's place was nice. But it was 'Folk' nice-- carved wood and detailed stitch work.

The Ritz was all modern. The beds appeared to be hovering, while the walls were glossy white with holograms of endless food and drink choices. The shower, upon further inspection, was only a plain grey room. But I knew better. As soon as you stepped in the massive flooring would depress and a voice would ask you to pick from more endless choices: A heart shaped tub for newlyweds? A steam room for grandma? How about some sand and a projection of Maui for the kids?

I wanted rain. A tropical thunderstorm in the jungle... but instead I hurled myself on to the left bed nearest the door, shoes and all, and began scrolling my way through the itemized list. "Blue Lion... Blue Lion... Blue...L..." I dunno when I dozed off. But I did. It was best sleep of my life.

Avan-Sol

Other Characters

I might have stacked the deck high, Mr. Spade, but this is your world too. Feel free to use or abuse anything in the toolbox below. This post will be edited to show characters that are playable by both of us. Bios and Status updates will be applied as the story progresses. If a character should graduate from minor to major, they will be deleted from this list and given their own CS. If you wish to submit a brief entry, submit in PM so that I can add it here without OOC getting messy.

Faerie

Faerie
*Enlightened suggests that the character is aware of Avan's death.
*Unenlightened means precisely the opposite.

Selene
Current Status: Alive and Unenlightened
Race: Elf
Bio: Best friend and body guard of Helen Fenten. Skilled in the art of knife throwing and possessing the rare ability to take on the forms of others, Selene is truly a force to be reckoned with. Her former ties with the Sea Tigers possibly have something to do with her cousin Alistar, however she has since shifted her alliance. Her reasonings for this are unknown, although her dedication and unrequited love for her Queen are certainly evident. That being said, can any shapeshifter really be trusted?

Tahl
Current Status: Alive and Enlightened
Race: Satyr
Bio: Professor at Central Forest University. At his core he believes in idealism. Emphasizing how human and faeire ideas—especially beliefs and values—shape the present society.

Nimmy
Current Status: Alive and Enlightened
Race: Dryad
Bio: A student at Central Forest University. She has the ability to generate large amounts of acidic saliva. Her bond with Ulrich and Avan are suggested to run deeper than they appear-- although to what extent remains to be seen. Currently in a critical but stable state within Ulrich's kingdom after managing to escape capture. She claims to have killed the thug Pineapple in self-defense. Her track record of convincing lies and subtle deceptions may make her story unreliable.

Hector Filbert Faust
Current Status: Alive and Unenlightened
Race: Orc
Bio: Ironically perhaps, with his indiscriminate killing, it could be argued that one Hector Filbert Faust is the least racist person in the story so far (albeit, his preferences for young females suggest sexism). He's in his mid thirties and is entirely indifferent to the brooding rebellion. Having chosen to take up residence within the city, Central Forest tends to house the majority of his despicable crimes. With murders against both Fae and human communities, Hector is left skilled in the art of cover ups and clean get aways. Ulrich alone took weeks to track him down; his latest attempt to escape from The Boy King has ultimately lead to their capture. It is said that because of his criminal status, he has ties with other shady characters.

Dirk Aearhil
Current Status: Alive and Enlightened
Race: Elf
Bio: An elf with no alignment but possess ties to both main factions. Some say he's not too bright, and he'll be the first to admit this-- although this isn't entirely correct. Dirk Aearhil's true problem lies within his own dwindling sense of self-worth. Recently, plagued with hallucinations of ghostly forms, he tends to lash out at seemingly inappropriate times. If it weren't for the fact that he could see beyond the veil of the physical realm, he might have followed his friend Thistle into Ulrich's hazy kingdom after being unceremoniously dropped from the Sea Tigers. Currently he secretly hopes that by aiding Damien and Helen-- he will be forgiven for his erratic outburst and reenlisted back into the Sea Tigers.

Thistle
Current Status: Alive and Unenlightened
Race: Sprite
Bio: A feisty sprite within Ulrich's Monarchy. Best friend and confidant to Dirk. Though her manner of phrasing isn't eloquent, she is wise and honest. She is left in charge by default as Ulrich, Helen and Selene have vanished.

Techie

Techie

Boss Lady
Current Status: Alive
Bio: Not much is known. Supposedly in charge of operation conducted on the night of Ulrich's kidnapping.

Gideon
Current Status: Alive
Bio: Not much is known about him so far, other than that he holds a position of authority. Last seen leading a cluster of vessels down Sea Tiger territory on the night of Ulrich's kidnapping. Working under Boss Lady's orders.

‘Nade cather + Pineapple
Current Status: Alive/Presumably Deceased
Bio: Two lower level thugs, of which Pineapple is presumably killed in the pursuit of the Dryad Nimmy.

Verona Spider
Current Status: Presumably Alive
Bio: The only known information is that she is the daughter of New York's senior senator. It is rumored that she had romantic ties with Avan.

Mrs. Fenten
Current Status:Alive
Bio: Helen's over protective mother, it was her idea for her daughter to move back in with her after the trauma caused by Avan's death. Despises Damien O'Shalna for what she calls a 'breach of trust'. Having always been closeted as a racist, her previous misgivings for him were in her mind justified when Helen vanished. As she hardly knows Ulrich, or anything about factions or the details of rebellion outside of news Streams, she tends to ignore facts, and nurses a growing hatred for Damien. Recently, it was revealed in an older voice message she has been seeing someone romantically.

Abby
Current Status: Alive
Bio: Helen's younger sister. She's infatuated with both O'Shalna brothers, typical techie kid on the bring of emancipation [nearly 18 years of age]. She's known to be gullible and easily manipulated.

The New York Darkness

I'm interested if there is room -- and if so: I will edit this post with a CS :)

Avan-Sol

The Flash Back Post

This type of post will contain a series of flashbacks that can be referenced throughout the main RP. Order does not matter, just continuity. Basically, stuff that just doesn't fit right away or at all in the IC but could be fun details for spare time or what not.

Helen

Episode 1

Strange Beginnings

That feeling you get when you love someone dangerous. I don’t mean that fake stuff that makes you want to jump off bridges and sing —I mean genuine fondness for someone. The kind of love that makes you want to strangle them for not wearing a coat in the middle of December, the kind that makes you fight a gag reflex to wipe the snot off of their sheepish faces, the kind that enables you to have more patience and awareness for them than you’ve had of yourself for the past twenty-six years of your entire life.

Once upon of time I had three of those people in my life. One of them is my sister, Abby—she’s such a typical kid though, until she hits her twenties I won’t be able to talk to her like I do the other two. The second one is Ulrich, but that boy is another story all his own.

The last one is Damien Cass O’Shalna. And man, if there isn’t a library of feminist literature written about his type already… Tall, handsome, surprisingly articulate-- he might have even been the type I’d bother to stick around for. Except for one tiny, minuscule, detail: He’s totally insane. And I knew that from the very minute I met him:

Five Years Prior

I had been officially offered a shot to do my own gig once I had finished up my last semester at Syracuse. My hobby Stream ‘Alt. Twisted News’ would be reaching a broader audience after about a few million hits on my own. I also hosted the university Stream—easy, right?

Wrong. I said the word “fuck” on a live campus broadcasting. Twice. My Editor was not amused.

"You're being assigned to a player interview"
"What? Because of one broadcast? Mark-- we're all adults-- fuck. Fuck. Fuckitty-fucking-fuck-fuck!"
"Fuck kitty? My, we're getting really creative today."
"...who's the player?"
"He's a freshman. Damien O'Shalna."
"Hasn't someone already done a few segments on that kid?"
"Have you heard his deal? He's all they wanna hear about. Get in there Fenten. And make it good."

He wasn't the easiest guy in the world to schedule an interview with. It took a few weeks of phone tag to meet him face to face. We ended up at the edge of Central Forest; a couple of hot chocolates and the cleanest park bench we could find.

“Drizzy X?” He chuckled when I told him my real name and then apologized with, “It’s just that my mother’s middle name is Helen. Very old fashioned.”

“Oh, I read that you were adopted.” I said without thinking.

He nodded matter-of-factly and shrugged, “That’s not a secret,” his eyes softened a bit as he followed with, “as far as I’m concerned, her and Pops are about as blood as you can get.”

“That’s adorable, can I quote that?” he nodded, and after a moment I continued, “Thank you for meeting with me last minute; you must be swamped with your first year on campus.”

“Speak for yourself,” he eyed his own sentence which illustrated itself in a quote bubble above his head. The bubble of text folded itself into a digital airplane and took a nosedive into my tablet with a pixilated ripple; the words ‘Speak for yourself,’ appeared in Helvetica on my screen. “It must be difficult to manage two Streams.”

I reached out and held my fingers over the ‘mute’ hologram hovering between us. “You have no idea. Honestly, I feel like I’m going to pull my hair out.”

He reached out and hollowed his hand over his own ‘mute’ button and then said, “This is your last interview for the university Stream right?”

I nodded, “Yes, they’re fazing me out quietly- no offense.” He shook his head as if to say ‘None taken’.

“Syracuse won’t be the same once you graduate, I guarantee it.”

“You’re still a freshman, you haven’t been here long enough to miss me.”

“That’s not true. I was offered a scholarship to play college ball at Syracuse when you took over the general Stream and Mark Eisen was moved to strictly sports. I’ve listened or watched just about all of your player interviews.”

“Mark? Yeah...great guy...if you like blood loss. He does a lot of editing now.” I watched him nod and then place a hand over his chest, his expression seemed troubled, “What was a high school kid like you listening to some random university Stream?”

“…Well I’ve always wanted to go here… it’s relatively progressive views on social issues and... and....Can we do this another time?... I've got to go.” He arched suddenly in a backwards bend over our park bench in a move would make an ordinary linebacker blush; full tilt sprint for the tree line of Central Forest.

[Loading Profile... Loading... Loading... Missing Profile] With a few swiping gestures I closed down the holograms and logged my time as 'out'. Great. Just what am I supposed to do with that? Oh crap.

"Wait! I need to get you sign on off on some affidavits!" he was fast, really fast, I but when I squinted I could still make out his outline just beyond the breaks in the trees.

When he looked back at me gaining on him he frowned, "Get lost"

"Wh-what? No. Whatever's going on, you just made this interview helluva' lot more interesting" I laughed and then I stopped laughing when he began to speed up. Already, I was sweating.

"Seriously, can't you just ask someone else?"

"You can't hide from your demons O'Shalna! Sooner or later they're going to riiiiiiiiiise again!" It was from some old song way back when and seemed funny enough... Whatever it's reference it seemed to really have an effect on him. He tripped and landed hard on his palms. "You can't out run me forever Damien! Track team, freshman year, you can shove it hard O'Sh--"

Just when I thought I had caught up with him he began running on all fours at a speed that couldn't possibly be maintained by any normal human, "You really are a busy girl" he called back, "Alright, enough is enough..."

He took a hard right and vanished.

Low branch?
Low branch.

Lights out.

---

Rough
Urgh. My head...
Wet
My fucking head...
Hot
My poor, fucking head...
Red

I scream. Two tigers, wince in unison. Moments later my double vision fades and I realize that there is only one tiger. This fact however, does nothing to calm me. I scream again.

After about a minute of this, the tiger's ears fold back and it starts to growl. Soft as a whisper and then increasing in volume until the forest floors quake.

I pass out again.

But not before I feel it go back to quietly licking my head wounds.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Smooth
Tiger tongues are antiseptic.
Moist
There are more than just orange ones. For example. There are white ones. Gold ones. Black ones. The rarest of all, blue.
Warm
Tiger's often mimic the voice of prey in order to lure their own into an ambush.
Pink

"Almost done. Stay still." a familiar voice instructs me.

A tongue strokes at the same spot on my forehead and in my delirium I find it oddly erotic. Clumsily, I reach up and drag god-knows-what down and center. It tastes like blood and Colgate..?

"Uh, no." whatever it is, it's repressing laughter, "I have a girlfriend."

Blood and Colgate has a girlfriend...? What does that even mean...? Colgate. Coooooolgate. Ha-ha.

My eyes snap open. "You can become a tiger? Rad. Can I have a clip for the university Stream?"

Damien O'Shalna staggers backwards "Listen, lady. I don't know that you think you saw--"

"I remember everything."

"Everything?" he swallows.

Verifying, I pull out the tablet and glance to make sure it was still recording "Everything. I've got footage... hey... what are you anyways?"

---

Turns out he didn't know what he was-- there were no records of Tiger morphing Fae... at least not that we knew of.

I graduated a few weeks later so I didn't see too much of him after that. My show became a hit soon after. Maybe fifth after the various weather girls, stock picks, and sports. It focused on strange happenings and targeted social issues of the Folk and Central Forest politics.

I was doing a bit on the new fae football team at my old alma mater; the college had just allowed the new team to play for the first time. There was, what I would later come to know, as a younger Ulrich in the stands, watching his new elder brother passively on the gridiron. All freckles and short with bandaged fingers. He was cuter as a kid.

Beside Ulrich there was another figure who wore a swim team letterman's jacket. He seemed too serene for his surroundings. Both old and young at the same time... I caught myself staring at him until:

"Still busy?"

"Oh! Heeeeey-- you scared me. It's over? When? I.." I glance back to stands, but the man and Ulrich had vanished.

Damien leans over the gate and waves off rowdy teammates, "For about ten minutes, now. You look... well, fame definitely agrees with you, Miss Fenten"

"Ah, what can I say? I'm livin' The Good Life. And you? It's been like.. months..." my voice lowers and I lean in, "so ... everything is figured out now?"

"Mostly."

"Good. Don't forget. You still owe me that interview."

Episode 2

Timid Middles

The pianist strolls in about halfway through his own entrance; the band smoothly loops into a variation of the intro for a second time as he skirts along wallpaper to take to the bench. He shrugs off his snow flurried coat and pulls the index fingers of each leather glove, “Play me in Dino.” The saxophonist wipes a bead of sweat from his brow and nods into a slippery, sly note. The pianist smooths his tie, adjusts the level of his microphone, and finally stilts his fingertips to the black and ivory keys. He licks his lips, and croons into the microphone.

Oh the weather outside is frightful, Darling so frightful... But the fire is so deeeeli-ii-ii-iightful...

The last of shivering couples begin to trickle in from the holiday's blizzard and into the toasty ballroom. Girl's shrug off their thin glittering shawls and guys slip ushers modest tips. Reds, greens, and gold with poinsettias adorning every corner; the smell of frost and champagne with the low hum of polite small talk. Long white columns lined two sides of the long room, serving as a place the shy or single could sulk or hide and eat the free food. The city's prestigious Moonlight Charity Ball was now officially in full swing.

“As a spider would say: You are helplessly trapped. There is no hope for you little fly.”

The young man cradling the small of her back, pulls her closer and whispers directly into her ear, “You'll get no struggle from me, fair Spider. My only intention was to be caught in your web.” he spins her out and then inwards, catching her steady and making sure that his hands did not stray too low.

And since we've no place to go...

“You are as charming as you are talented, Mr. O’Shalna.” the corners of her eyes wrinkle with delight, "I can't wait to introduce you to father-- I'm sure he'll be here soon."

“Please, call me Avan.”

"I never imagined you to be so..." she thinks hard a moment as she lays her head on his shoulder, "...so human. And young...they said you were a holy man."

"Twenty," he assures her, "and I may be a minister of earth, Miss Spider, but I assure you, I am also... one...hundred...per...cent... " and then he finishes the sentence so quietly, she has no choice but to lean in. And when she does:

"Oh!" her cheeks flush a deep scarlet and she begins to giggle uncontrollably, ducking her head into his chest.

He looks down at her, and then upwards across the room to meet his brother's speculative gaze.

Verona Spider. The senator's daughter? Smooth. Very smooth. Ulrich finally allows his eldest brother a moment of peace by returning his timid smile with a smirk and approving nod. Lovable puff... As long as he's finally enjoying himself. She looks alright. Y'know for one of those techie girls, anyways... He turns and rubs his hands to eye the massive buffet of refreshments. A spread of jeweled berries and golden pine nectar on spotless white table cloth-- a new statement made by the city officials to honor their Fae guests.

Let it snow! Let it snow! Baby! Let it Snooooow!

"Hey. You're a Faerie boy."
"He's cute don't you think?"
"Shush Pim-- this was your idea!"

Ulrich turns slowly. Lips and chin already stained violet and red. His eyes widen, fearful. Three of them. There were three of them. Each dressed in red with golden ribbons pinned to the sides of their dresses. Were they supposed to look like presents? Gaia, forgive me

"Look at his face, Ada!"
"His cheeks are turning red!"
"Like a short wittle angel! Right Nini?"

Ulrich clears his throat, "Em' sorry my English is a little rusty... Ladies I am a wittle Faerie boy, so please go easy on m-- Uuurph!" and on to the dance floor he went. Whereabouts the triplets proceeded to have absolutely no mercy.

---

When we finally kiss goodnight.. Oooo-o-ooo, How I'll hate going out in the storm...
"You came? Ah, I thought you might..." Helen forces a grin and then crosses her arms over her shoulders.

"I came. Avan mentioned a good political opportunity for..." he paused and seemed to change his mind about something, "Do you dance?"

"Huh, me? Nah, I've got two left feet." she lied. She did dance and she was actually very good at it too. But for a reason she couldn't quite understand, she didn't want him to know. It had been another gap of a few months since she's last seen him. They had hardly spoke at all. Why would they? They didn't even know each other that well.

He looked very sharp in suit and tie."Right. Well, about that interview I still owe yo--"

"Forget it tiger," she holds up her hands apologetically, "tonight is booked back to back with news I've got to feature. It was pretty much the only way I was allowed in."

The fire is slowly dying... And, my dear, we're still goodbying...

"Alright. I'll leave you to it, then" he flashes her a smile and waves as he turns in the direction of the dance floor alone, "By the way Helen that dress; it's--"

The band swings up and really revs up the last line of the carol. The Pianist reaches up and grips the mic with both hands swells in a capella. And she briefly worries that Damien O'Shalna had just called her dress 'doable' or 'excusable' or worse 'use-able'.

But as long as you loooove me love me la-la-la-laaaa-huuu-vah me-ee so

Maybe. Just maybe... he said "beautiful".

Young Ulrich wobbles from the dance floor covered in lip-prints. He throws himself to lean against the wall next to her, breathing hard. Helen turns to look at him and is about to ask him if he would like some water. But before she can ask, he takes a good eyeball at the slit in her gown and says, "Helen, right? Nice dress." he adds, "Looks do-able."

Let It Snow! Let it Snow! O yes! Let It Snooooooow!

Episode 3

Less Timid Middles

She got through her interviews surprisingly fast. Or maybe it just seemed that way because she was drunk. The majority of the politicians she interviewed were one liners or snooze fests. With elections coming up, they were all too nervous or careful to be noteworthy. [Uh-huh. Yeah. Yep. Adult literacy? Yeah, that's real swell.] One notable exception was Senator Blake J. Spider: The entire time he seemed distracted with watching his daughter dance with some Fae; and then after about a minute he holds the 'mute' button and stops her mid-questioning with: "You are not a journalist, Miss Fenten. Your Stream holds it's value as an entertainment program so let's not get glib, shall we?" He pauses to take a sip out of his martini and then adds, "Enjoy the hors d'oeuvres..."

"Glib... Heh... We'll see who's glib..." Helen mumbles into her glass. She was at a resolve to drink; the entire party in her opinion was a little too high brow for her taste. Ball gowns. Jazz band. Caviar for snacks. Bunch of glibs, she fumes, and then snaps when a hand touches the back of her arm, "What do you want-- oh. Damien. Hi. Again." Does he notice how drunk I am? Better play it smooth. "Did I mention that suit looks glib. Good. Jesus, I meant good."

"You lied." he says flatly.

"I did?" Helen stares at him a confused, and then remembers, Ah, right...The dancing thing. "Let me make it up to you."

"Nah, I'll leave the twirling to Avan and Ulrich. Schmucks." whether it is a coincidence or intuition, he holds out an arm for her to grab on to, "Need air. You?"

Shit. He knows. "I'm not drunk."

"Relax." he smiles, "I am too."



It was difficult to part-- if only for a moment for the father-daughter dance --Verona Spider had exceeded his expectations. More than that, Avan loved her. The night was only half over and he loved her, passionately. Just as he knew he would. It was why he asked her to dance with him in the first place. He couldn't tell her this, of course-- not yet anyways -- but there were somethings in life he just knew. From the day his body was dug up from the bottom of Hemlock, it had been this way. Gaia whispered to him. It wasn't quite like the ability to tell the future, but it was close. He could just sense it in his gut when things were meant to be like nature had intended. Like the O'Shalna boy. Avan's chest tingles with fond memories. He remembers watching Damien stumble haggardly into his afternoon Botany seminar; dazed and confused. He knew right away to let him have his seat near the front and that offering him his personal copy of Folk scripture would be the right thing. Adopting Damien's city given name would be the right thing. Bonding to him as kin would be the right thing. Teaching him the ways of Gaia and principles of balance... it was remarkably more effortless than he could have ever imagined. Avan smiles warmly, "Ulrich."

"Yeah but did you know she's one of them techie girls? I didn't think so at first but then I asked her."
"Ulrich"
"And that's another thing- she's got one of them Streams too. God. He's an idiot."
"Ulrich"
"Avan"

The young man adjusts is tie and rolls up his sleeves before ladling nectar into a paper cone, "Calm down, will you?...'Sides..." says Avan lightly, "I think it's great he's making progress."

"I wouldn't say that Fenten girl is progress."
"I was watching you two earlier. She got you pretty hard, didn't she?"

There was a long pause before the boy answered, and when he did, it was grudgingly; he rubbed his cheek where he had been slapped by her "...yeah...she's wild..."

"You like her?"
"That obvious?"
"Painfully. But-- and I'm going to ask you this as a brother-- not your mentor. Let it go."
"Consider it left."

"I'm serious... they don't know it yet." Grabbing the back of his own neck Avan sighs and looks up, "But I know. I just know she's suppose to play a role in--" his eyes narrow and then he purses his lips as if he's said too much, "If you interfere Ulrich-- things might not pan out the way nature intended."

"Yeesh. I get it old man. Hands off the tiger's kill. You know he barely speaks to her?"
"He will. Give it time. If you let Gaia run it's own course, great things will come of it. Interfere and you'll be playing with fire."
"Fire, huh?"
"Yes. Fires that I might not be around to help you fan out."

Ulrich slugs him in the arm halfheartedly, "You say that as if you're not going to live forever."

"I might not..." The young man smiles sadly. "If I die. And really, I might; this Verona girl has already got me eating out of the palm of her hand. Take care of him. He's older. But you know better."
"I bet you told him the exact same thing"

[Avaaaaan-- cedar-bear--where are you? I want you to meet my sister!]

He pretends to not hear that but glances at his watch and says "Excuse me."

"Just what sort of holy man are you, mister?"

Avan takes a long hard sip from his cup, shakes his head, and then pats his younger brother on the shoulder, "Nature isn't celibate, little man. It is a wild and unrelenting force that eventually conquers everything in it's path. Remember that." they both look up as Verona Spider calls out again giggling and cooing from across the room, "As for the future Mrs. Avan O'Shalna...well...there are just somethings, Ulrich, that even I cannot teach you."




You'd have thought they were just a couple of kids having a moment in the snow; linebacker arms planted into the brickwork just above her head. Colgate. Weird that I already knew that... He wasn't much in the way of tongues, but she'd let that slide considering the circumstances. They were both half plastered and freezing their asses off. Not to mention scared shitless. At least she was.

"Fnrrg! Gnrrarrg snnruff snrah!"
"Urk! Urreh! Ssssst!"

She could feel her heart beating through the roof of her mouth-- O'Shalna must have felt it too, because in attempt to calm her he dragged her left hand through the opening in his coat over his heart. No. Not his heart. It was his knife. I am not surprised in the least. Their lips parted slowly. Very slowly. Eyes wide and tensed to move fast if they had to. The pair of them had been attempting 'deep' conversation for a while on the rooftop before hearing the noises below them. For Helen, it had felt similar to being caught at gun point with her pants down. A mixture of shock and terror so sudden, it left you dizzy and reeling.

"There it is again--did you hear that?" she exhales sharply at sound of footsteps scurrying below.
"Counted--Three, five maybe. They've got the damn building surrounded."
"O'Shalna. When you said you needed some air, I just thought you wanted to get a leg up out back."
"Here?" he said incredulous, "It's minus three out. And I didn't plan this."
"Details...Details..."

The sound of velcro being undone, snapping buttons, and the shhhink-shh of a serrated knife being pulled and pushed in it's hilt.

"Five. Don't look, they'll know we've spotted them."
"What are those things?"
"Goblins. Be quiet."
"Can't you just go tiger mode and--"
"Two things, Helen: (a).... I .... do not remember what (a) was... (b) Shut up. I'm still counting."
"But-" he places a palm over her lips and continues murmuring under his breath.
"Six, seven, eight.... shit .. eleven...?"

"Errr-ulg-sss-oosssah!"
"Roag--earp-ssss-laragh!!"

Goblin tongue is a hissing and horrible series of noises. It involves tongue clicking and guttural burping sounds:

"Roarg-glarknock-knock-ootah-don" (Hey Jim. How's it goin'?)
"Rrr-urgk-rot-rot!" (Get outta the kill zone, idiot! I told you to wait by the door!)
"Blegh-urp" (Gee, I'm really sorry. How's the wife and kids? Anyways, Hoss says we're going raid the building. Is that true?)
"Shh-sss-toomah-too-lakah!" (You stay away from my wife, Kyle. Yeah, we're going to blow this can of techie shit wide open.)
"ssssssssssssss-p-fffttalec!!!" (Golly, I dunno if I wanna hurt anyone Jim, it looks like there's some Fae in there too.)
"Nuzack-nuutah-kurrrr" (Too bad. What Hoss says, goes. Have you got your arrows ready?)
"oomah-oomahtoolag" (Yep, I sure do!)
"ssss-t-t-sssstug" (Good. Get back to your post, asshat.)
"Shakah-kurt-erpsss" (Merry Christmas, Jim!)
"Krrrulg-blert-bort-borgk" (If I don't see you again. At least die quietly.)

[To be continued...]

Tahl

Episode 1

Avan-Sol

Tahl rubbed his chin. It was a long one that required a bit of rubbing. “Can anyone tell me the importance of Gaia?” There were a few pipes of a flute and some hands. But he ignored them, “In the context of recent events.” a few hands went down and he waited. Slowly, he watched them from behind his oak stump-podium one by one lowering. All except one. “Dirk?”

A tall elven boy stood, towering pre-adolescent an impressive six feet over nine, “Avan-sol”

“In English” replied his professor. The boy looked around at his classmates, eyeing them each with a cool gaze, ‘ele zhal’la usstan’ he said, which Tahl roughly translated the western dialect as ‘Why should I?’. Tahl nodded, thoughtfully. He was not a harsh educator; minor insolence was tolerated so long as it was passionate. “I can wait for as long as it takes, Dirk Aearhil.”

It was another moment before the elf spoke, “Avan-sol” he began, “it means Avan’s whispered history. Gaia, is the Earth. Avan was her sig’nil-- her defender. Without Gaia, all of us will die.” the boy rammed his palms hard into the grass for emphasis. “The Sea Tigers will take his place.”

“Nay! The King!” a few pixies chanted, and cried out at Dirk. “Ulrich will protect us!” the elven boy did not look impressed.

“The Monarch of Ulrich? Oh aye, lovelies. But, I highly doubt the Boy King is going to stray far enough from his tree long enough to take action let alone exact vengeance.”

At once, they erupted into debate; a number of dialects and languages each professing their own vehement professions on the behalf for each faction. “SILENCE!!!” screamed one gnome. And by some miracle, they did. The high-pitched shrillness of a gnome often had this effect. “Now,” said the gnome, “Can’t you see? Sea Tigers. King Ulrich. It’s all the same side.” murmurings of grudging agreement at this, “Besides...both of them will fail. It’s obvious isn’t it? It is the Brotherhood that will strike first.”

Before anymore of his pupils could refute this Tahl spoke, “This rebellion,” using a hoof he drew out each faction crest in the dirt. An arrow a hammer with some water for the Sea Tigers, a spiraled leaf for Ulrich's Monarch. For the Brotherhood however, he left a blank space in the earth- for they had no sign. “This rebellion,” he began again, “is driven by three different schools of thought. Each with valid and supported views. But did you know, students-- pay attention please-- did you know that each faction is led by others not much older than yourselves? The Boy King, himself has only just begun to develop the abilities of our kind,” he raised a hand and paced the length of the circle formed by his students. He liked teaching outside. Things were more peaceful; the soft earth is much easier on a satyr’s old hooves. “Sea Tiger’s ferocious leader? Why, I should say he’s probably suffering from the same thing half of you are right. Now. At. This. Very. Moment-- Whimple! Hands off the pixie this instant. This is the last time I’m going to warn you”

“T’was only a kiss, sir, honest-- I mean if I were head of the Sea Tigers ‘misself, would I be twice as noble?”

Laughter.

Leprechauns, Tahl thought, were the least serious of all Fae. Their command of the human language- by far superior- was phrased in a riddle, or limerick that was best ignored. “As I was saying--”

“Rain!” someone shrieked.

The old satyr sighed. The class ending was ended before his point was made. He gathered his book and papers- half tempted to snack on a page or two, but thought his wife’s dinner gave him pause.

Lecturing them at this age. It was practically hopeless. And the humans really think that they have it bad—some inflamed skin and sprouting hair—BAH! Fae ‘puberty’ is by far worse. Just the other day his entire lesson plan was disrupted when--

“P-Professor?”

He glanced up, a page from today’s lesson plan already half chewed, “Mm-ph. Heh-hem. Yes? Nimmy, dear you look like you have something on your mind” The rain began to sprinkle a little harder and he gestured for her to walk with him into the denser canopy. Under there he could clearly see that it wasn’t just the rain on her face.

“Well, I... the Park... do you think...”

“Nimmy,” he said suddenly, fishing deep in his tweed jacket until he found a handkerchief, “Do you know the importance of Gaia?”

“Gaia is life.”

“It is” the old satyr agreed, “But Avan, was not her defender… I believe that Avan was Gaia.” His last words were drowned out by a sudden boom in thunder and lightning. He shielded himself from the flash of light in the distance and when he turned to the child once more she was already on her way.

“Thank’s a lot for the lesson today Professor! S-See you tomorrow!” she called from over her shoulder, her voice choppy from behind sheets of rain.

Avan-Sol

Chapter One events moving forward:
1: Our heroes are going to arrive into the heart of the city and Check into the Ritz Carlton [A new and improved version] following clues of Ulrich's location.
2: Once checked in, they will receive an invitation to a wedding; an invitation that cannot be refused... The unlocking of the Blue Lion
3: The bride is ..[YOU SHALL SEE SOON-- I've left tiny clues. She is the main villian of the first and second chapter].. and the groom is The Mayor of New York City [CS of him coming soon-- playable by you or me or both because I think you'd enjoy him as much as I would]. Identity of The Widow is revealed
4: A very dangerous drug deal will be made.

Chapter two:
1: Characters will be forced into the underground subways into Goblin Lake
2: Reunion of Ulrich and group.
3: A main character who is not what they seem will betray us all...
4: The reason of Avan's death is revealed and he makes an appearance to the O'Shalna brothers

Avan-Sol

"Interested in what? Taking these rejects back? You guys aren't with us for a reason, so make your intentions known or leave."

“Actually we--” Dirk began, but it must have been a rhetorical question or one where the answer didn’t matter. Either way, the reject comment stung.

“And you, you've got some fucking nerve showing up after setting us up in the grotto today, just what exactly where you trying to prove, Ulrich?" Damien is yelling now. Everyone else had fallen silent. When Helen stepped out of the palanquin, she braced herself, "So he's gonna try and kill me twice in one day? Your boyfriend sure has lost it, Helen." More Sea Tigers had made their way into the gateway. The dancers that had been shouldering the palanquin hissed in return.

A woman, a doctor by the looks of it, ran out, getting in between Damien and the palanquin, blocking him. "Damien, you've been through a lot today, now's not the time to be looking for a fight."

Helen felt Damien’s gaze heavy on her, she stared back. Curious. The woman placed her hand on his cheek, turning his head to face him, in a move Helen had often used herself once upon a time. She couldn’t help feel a pang of sadness. It goes to show though, that whoever she was, she clearly didn’t know O’Shalna well enough to see that his threats were empty.

He was annoyed. Severely raging, even. But there was no way he’d fight a bunch of seemingly unarmed girls. And Dirk.

"On the contrary, doc, a fight's just what we need." The orc, drawing his sword, followed by all of the Sea Tigers. "Now speak up, all of you, or we can end this right now."

“Maybell..?” said a small voice from the gathering crowd, “Maybell? Is that you?”

One of the belly dancers smiled. Their arms opened up and they sunk to their knees as a pixie child slipped past the legs of soldiers and beyond the narrow bars of the gate.

“Winslow… darling… lovely boy, is that you? Look at you, you’ve grown so big!”

Another voice, “Fatima—hey beautiful! How about a dance for old time sake?” This time a Sea Tiger in uniform comes rushing forward to pick up another dancer bridal style, “I wasn’t sure it was you at first, I’m sorry. About what I said at the wedding… about everything.. I’m sorry.”

One by one each of the dancers were called out to by people in his village as someone they loved recognized them. The tension in the air dissolved, the majority of the crowed was buzzing with excitement.

Helen smiles weakly, “We brought them here as a peace offering... despite our differences… we’re still family, right?” she watches as the doctor excuses herself into the crowd where apparently her presence is needed, “I don’t know what you mean about the grotto—come on let’s talk about it. Alone?” she holds open the flap of her grounded palanquin and waits for him to enter.

Damien looks around, is about to say something. And then looks resigned, “Okay.”

Inside of the small tent, the air is filled with electricity. She motions for him to take the seat on the plush floor pillows across from her and then silence. They hear the dull camaraderie of the crowd as both Selene and the dancers entertain the crowd and loved ones do some much needed catching up.

“So…” he begins wearily, he still feels the weight of his tired bones. His face was passively eyeing the lavish décor. Even Helen seemed to be avoiding his gaze directly.

More silence.

“Are you still mad at me?”

“Livid”

“That’s not going to change anytime soon is it?” Damien shook his head, honestly. Helen nodded, and then to his surprise began to unbutton her shirt “I’m going to give you a chance to say everything. And then I’m going to tell you about what’s been going on”

“What are you—where is Ulrich?”

“He’s waiting for you back at our base. Relax let’s just get this out of our systems now before things become more complicated.”

“Like fuck we will!”

“Like, fuck we will.” She agreed.

Like adults they quickly came to terms, however-- he wasn’t a gentleman about it. She couldn’t blame him though. His bandages complicated matters at first—he flinched each time she would accidentally graze one of his wounds, knocking her hand aside, grimacing. This wasn’t about affection. It was about the fact that he couldn’t hit her, and so he channeled his bitterness and frustrations into one small coordinate in space. The movements were devastating, almost painful; but extremely satisfying for both of them. It had been far too long, the buildup too great, and the thought of consequences along with their sense of autonomy had long since flown out the window.

When they were finished and dressed, she immediately scraped what was left of herself off of the overpriced pillows and headed to the laptop and began click-clacking away at it wordlessly. Damien was a little surprised, although he realized that the last thing he wanted was to bask in any sort of afterglow.

“You should sleep. This is probably going to take a while.” She said, her eyes never wavered from the screen.

“You don’t have an off switch, do you?”

“I do. In fact you were just flipping it repeatedly a moment ago.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel guilty?”

Greenish glow and white strings of code flew across her face; she was only half paying attention to him. “I think I’ve got a signal.”

“Great. I’m going to get the others.” It was awkward, he leapt on the excuse to leave, but when he tried to stand he found himself unable to move, from the waist down “Could you…?”

“Yeah, hang on.” She spent a few more moments typing furiously at the screen before, pulling back the cloth door of the Palanquin “Selene?”

The bodyguard poked her head through the flap of the door, “Yes?”

“You know what to do.”

“What?” Damien’s expression was confused and felt angry but he didn’t know why.

Selene’s features melted and stretched into Damien’s form. She smiled and then turned towards the camp, coughing, she started with “Men, I’m not feeling well… I’m going to let them take me back to Ulrich’s so that I might have at this alone… Don’t look at me like that Orc. That’s an order. All of you. You look terrible, heal up and I’ll be in contact soon!”

Damien finally having registered that he was being kidnapped, swore “Mother fu-”

“A mild tranquilizer. It’s no use trying to get up.”

He ran a mental checklist and sure enough. He felt a tic-tac sized bump on the inside of his thigh. Oh fuck. She wasn’t kidding. “….You didn’t have to do this, I’d have just cooperated if you told me what the hell was going on.”

“I lied. Ulrich is missing. I didn’t know if you’d agree to help us without wanting to do things your way; we don’t have a lot of time, time we really don’t have at this point.” She glanced over her screen, “Relax we have a long ride ahead of us, I’ll explain everything on the way there”

The palanquin rose unsteadily and they began the long journey to the city.