[M] A Valuable Inheritance ~ IC

[Minkasha]

Being enthralled by the butterflies, Gay missed the magic surrounding him and the woods. He was lost in the magic lost in his head. But the statue's voice was able to rip him from fantasy to a dark vision where the horned man was frightening, threatening, and ment Gay harm.

He had stopped smiling, happy face vanished. The butterflies kept around undisturbed but the boy fletcher to his rather tall uncle and clung onto his forearm and hand.

"Uncle" he whimpered "The horned man is freightning!"

[Preach]

There was, sadly, no decision to be reached, for as soon as they all had looked at the statue; as soon as the other paths had disappeared and as soon as Piero had stepped closer to look at the stone figure, they had all been brought across the threshold. They were no longer in Endless Sorrow.

It was very dark and clearly nighttime. The moon was large and silvery, illuminating their path but not much else. The sky was clear, and studded with stars forming very unfamiliar constellations. Whatever semblance this land had to England disappeared as soon as they were inside of it. The sky was foreign. The trees were of unrecognizable species and massive; much larger than they had originally seemed. And what's more, the King's meadow and the statue had completely disappeared.

They were on a solitary road within the forest. It was well marked by the trees and lit by the moon. The trees gathered around it were thick; it was difficult to look into the dark green forest. Behind them was the road leading, presumably, back to the meadow, though nothing would indicate that. It led endlessly into the forest. In the other direction, the path was better lit. This was most likely the route they should take. There were no sounds at all.

They only had one direction to go in. Should they follow the stark road among the trees, they would find it was remarkably straight, like the King had said.

Were they to look into the trees, they would see something faintly moving among the branches-- there was also a shimmering. Intentional or not, the glamor was there; perhaps because the travelers had not yet become accustomed to Faerie. Tarquin, apparently, could see what it was, and he stayed very much to the center of the road. For once, he pulled Gay with him, leading the boy by the collar of his shirt. Tarquin was also holding back tears, but he didn't speak at all.

They came to a clearing. As they approached it on the road, there was the sound of water.

On the thorny trees around the clearing there hung the bodies of men in various states of decay. They, and several like them, had been decorating the road and forest the entire time. Some looked fresh, others were practically skeletons in rusted armor. A handful wore clothing that was more recent, but not many. The roads to Faerie had supposedly closed centuries ago. Nonetheless, individuals somehow managed to wander in. Apparently.

There was a brook directly between the path and the clearing, and a small bridge led over it.

Behind the bridge, there was a great, high tower made of rough-hewn stones with a single lit window. A silhouette could clearly be seen there. There was a wooden door at the tower's base, but it had no handle.

Before the tower there was a young man wearing medieval plate armor, though he had no helmet. The style of his armor would probably have been in vogue roughly two hundred years ago. He clutched his sword, and he looked haggard and pale, with dead eyes. His tabard bore the crest of a dead house; There was a great, oppressive feeling, tangible in varying levels depending on awareness (1).

"I am the Champion of the Castle of the Plucked Eye and Heart. I offer challenges to those who would come to offend or harm the Lady of the castle."

Tarquin's mind was racing, and he exhaled in a greatly strained manner, looking with genuine fear at Eliza and Gay. He fully blamed them for the group's current situation. He stepped to the front of the group, lightly pushing Gay into Eliza. "You will both be quiet. You have done more than enough. Good God!" The first part was definitely a command, and his tone was nasty and exasperated. In the same breath:

"Sir!" Tarquin called, and his voice seemed muffled by the thick forest. "... did... you... kill the men that hang on the branches of these trees?" He gestured to the trees without taking his eyes off the knight.

"Some," the knight replied, "I hung them on the branches of the thorn trees, like the ones who came before me."

"You serve the Lady?"

"Yes."

"... For what purpose? What will you gain from your service?"

"I do not know. I do not know her." said it with such conviction that it would be easy to think that such service was normal.

"Well! Well well well well well." Tarquin was hoping to bide time, brushing the front of his clothes with the backs of his hand, not stepping forward.

"Do you mean to fight?" The knight asked.

"Sir! We have neither harmed nor insulted your lady." The knight stepped forward, and the leaves and corpses rustled and everyone felt the irrepressible urge to fight the knight (2), and Tarquin panicked.

"For you see!" Tarquin blurted, stuttering, the energy changed; the urge to fight lessened. "We are bound to another master, who, is, at this very moment, in wait, for, our, return. No fighting. No, no fighting. No offenses. No harm."

The figure at the window seemed to lean forward, and Tarquin whispered panickedly to the group at his back as he himself took a step back, "Whatever we do, we mustn't kill him or harm him. We must get to the tower without challenging him or causing offense. I think the lady is there. There, in the tower. I don't know. I don't know. We cannot fight here. There will be no turning back from it."

(1) Depending on INT.
(2) Irrepressible only if WILL <5. Otherwise it can be felt, but it can be repressible.

[G]

As the shadows deepened, so did the feeling of unease that was stirring in Eliza's gut. Nevertheless, she pushed forward, swallowing her trepidation as they moved into the dim light, surrounded at all edges by the seemingly impenetrable forest. The way back was not a way at all now, and so they had only one option - forward.

A few paces behind Tarquin, she followed his gaze into the depths of the foliage, but could not make out what it was that seemed to have him so on edge. The visible surroundings were quite enough to be going on with, anyway - Eliza lifted her free hand to cover her mouth and nose as the stench of rotting flesh hit her, moments before she saw the corpses themselves.

"Ugh," she let out a single, disgusted noise, but before she had time to say anything further, they had reached the bridge. As Tarquin pushed Gay toward her, spitting his furious order to stay still and quiet, Eliza's eyes found the knight. With a gasp that was indiscernable as scared or angry, the young womans' arms wrapped around the boy in front of her, clutching him to her chest. Tarquin and the Knight exchanged words, and the challenge was issued. The desire to step up to the armoured foe was immense, and powerful - the golden-haired girl moved a pace or two forwards, unconsciously, dragging Gay with her. Her arms tightened further around the boy, the knuckles of her free hand turning white where she gripped him almost painfully tight, as though she were clutching her fists against the desire to launch herself at the stranger. A larger man could have broken free easily - for the small, slender boy it would prove more of a challenge. It was unclear whether the scholar was holding onto Gay to protect him, or simply from the need to grasp onto something.

"Tarquin is... right," she spoke through gritted teeth, forcing herself to take a step closer to their former host, and away from the guardian of the tower, "there must be another way in." She took another step to the side, and the Knight turned silently with her. She could see no way past him.

[TheBarbarian]

Finn did not even have a chance to properly look at the statues or give his opinion when the shadows closed around them and only the path remained. He swore under his breath this did not feel good. He still took point and walked forward with his knife held ready. But as he moved forward he saw a shimmer at the corner of his eye and stopped letting the others pass him. Something was following them. Currently it was doing so discreetly but he wondered how long that would last. He needed to keep an eye on the back of the group as well otherwise they would be cut down from behind when none of them were ready. Though he doubted whether fairy's would do such a thing those sorts of deaths would be too boring to watch. No flare nor any fun screaming.

The others had gotten a few steps ahead of him so he increased his pace and caught up. The sight that greeted him reminded him of the gibbets near the army camps where the deserters were always hung. There were always bodies that had been left there for too dam long and their stink would filter down to the tents nearest them being a constant reminder of the cost of running away from the fight. The scale of this one was just larger but the message was similar. Do not fight whoever stood on the bridge or join the bodies.

That feeling however was instantly counteracted once Finn got near the bridge. He felt a familiar calm he had not felt in a long time settle over him. It always came to him when battle exploded over him. While some men became mad and furious he only usually just became cold, calculating and frighteningly calm. Only time he could remember that his calm had broken was when Captain Carrel had died while fighting the French. His anger and other emotions usually flared before and after battle not while the thing itself was raging. He looked up.

The knight at the bridge was talking to Tarquin. Finn smiled his mind already raising tackling the logic problem on how to most easily kill the man. Weak, strained with bags under eyes. Armour heavy. Too heavy to provide any significant mobility. The mail at his armpit slightly rusted. My knife would fit nicely there. The knight had reach but I have speed. I would use the mans weight against him and then shnik the knife would sink into the arm pit. That would disarm him by not allowing him to effectively wiled the sword. Leaving his head defenseless which would in turn allow for a swift snapping of the neck. Tarquin apparently finished speaking and was backing away from the man. Finns eyes locked on the now silents knights eyes. Two warriors. Both squaring to fight.

As Tarquin took a step back he trod on Finns toe. The small pain penetrated the calm and sowed a seed of doubt. Where would this fight lead even if victory was achieved? It seemed that the only thing that would change was the one guarding the bridge then would be a surly Scott not a surly Brit. No he doubted that violence was the right action there even though his blood screamed for it as he turned away. "I..." He had to catch his breath coming off a high of adrenaline he did not know he had even been on. "I agree with our erstwhile host. Miss Eliza might there be a spell in that book of yours that could unbind the fair knight from his compulsion." He hoped their two magical theorists could figure something out because he was all out of ideas. Except... He rubbed the holed stone in his pocket absentmindedly. The king had been furious about him getting the thing...

[Minkasha]

Things were starting to smell foul.

No no no, Gay knew it wasn't himself for his uncle had told him to smell foul was offensive. But Gay had never smelled something like this before. He didn't know how to explain it. The smell reminded him of being in the park, away from his uncle's side, squatting down over the friendliest crow he had ever known. Gay had always tried to approach them but always they flew away, this friendliest crow had stayed. It was a tired crow.

Petting it, he felt the oily black feathers, and its loose claws aimed up at the sky. But Gay loved touching its big belly the most. A fat and friendly crow, how fun. A popular crow, Gay wasn't the only one saying greetings. Little black buzzing things flew around and the crow was a mother crow clearly after all the white moving babies he could see inside her belly. The mother had lost many of the feathers of her wings, a gentle touch accidentally pulled one out. Gay desperately apologized to her, but she was too friendly, too tired to care it seemed. Being a mother crow must have been exhausting, that's what Gay learned that day with his new lame friend. She couldn't even fly, maybe that's why she smelled bad.

But this odor wasn't bad, it was foul. There must have been a lot of mother crows around.

Yanked by uncle Tarquin, he was unable to scan the ground thoroughly for new portly, popular friends. He had to stay focused forward or trip and that was 'not appropriate' father taught him.

Uncle pushed him into Ms. Flower who wrapped her petals around him. She never smelled foul. But even the flower dragged him along, and to someone Gay now wished to have a very stern talking to the man in metal made him very angry and he was offensive! He must be made aware.

Off to the side and still bound to Ms. Eliza Flower, he waved at the man ahead to get his attention first before he spoke.

"Sir!" Gay started dramatically. His eyes narrowed and his soft nose wrinkled with harsh annoyance.

(If no one covers his mouth or somehow silences him)

"You are a great brute! One my uncle would call a Scottish barbarian or a hound! Much the same thing, just ask my uncle!" Gay threatened.

[Preach]

The look of utter shame on Tarquin's face might have been funny, had the others been able to see it. As it was, the fop's back was to the group, so only the guard and the figure in the tower could see. The boy's 'Sir' might have been aimed at Finn, not the knight. How was Tarquin to know what would come out of the boy's mouth? But the figure in the lit window seemed to shift, and the knight did not.

The lady stretched out her hand, and the knight spoke. "You are the uncle?"

Tarquin found himself thinking that at this rate, Gay was more trouble than he was worth. It was no wonder his family kept the boy only to his performances.

"An uncle," Tarquin replied tersely, not feeling fit to lie, then shuffled and looked, to his credit, unruffled. The lady and her knight would know if he lied. He somehow felt it. And though technically he was Gay's only uncle, that didn't mean he had to say it like that! It would be damning!

But the lady had waved her hand, and the water from the brook bubbled over. The spilled water swirled, becoming dark, moist writing in the night-time grass.

"The boy for what was promised." For the word 'boy' seemed to glow a soft gold. But that might have just been the moon's reflection on that one part of the water.

It seemed that she was willing to barter, and she saw some value in Gay.

(Check my last post in the OOC thread)

[G]

"The book," Eliza echoed the Scot's words, and her eyes fell momentarily to the tome still clutched in her free hand. She had barely a moment to consider the option, though, before Gay was frantically waving, his threat (feeble to all who knew that Tarquin was the uncle he spoke of) shouted to the knight. Then the brook began to bubble, and the woman gasped in shock at the request it spelled out on the grass. Instinctively, she tightened her grip on Gay. Ambitious as she might have been, she wasn't going to allow a child to be traded to the mysterious woman who Eliza now figured was the abhorrent thief the King had spoken of.

In her efforts to hold him tighter, the magical book slipped from her grasp to fall open on the grass. Following its passage, Eliza squinted as she sought to read the words revealed... at first, they seemed nothing but a nonsensical jumble - an indecipherable language she could not recognise, if it was a language at all. But as she looked, the pages seemed to shiver, and the young scholar found she could understand it. It was a curious thing, for the dark splashes of ink did not seem to have moved, and yet...

"To find what is missing," Eliza murmured, barely conscious of her movements as she released the boy and turned to reach down for the book, lifting it to better study the words, "hmm. Sounds useful, but not exactly what we're..."

She stopped short, a confused look crossing her face. Having tried to turn the page, find something that could allow them entry to the tower, get them past the knight, Eliza found she was unable. They were left, it seemed, with what was written where the book had opened - to find what was missing, or.. again she paused, perplexed. The page opposite had no title or description, but rather a diagram, sketched delicately and in great detail. It depicted a hand, upraised in an unfamiliar gesture; index finger crossed with third, thumb outstretched, others clutched to its fleshy palm. Her eyes flickering as she searched the page, she found something - a note, scrawled in messy handwriting - 'Extremely potent.'

She looked at Gay, the Knight, the woman in the window.. well, if she was ever in a situation that called for 'potent' methods, was this not it? And she could not think what they could find that would help them here - apart from the heart, which Eliza believed was in the keeping of the woman before them. If the King had been speaking honestly of her, then she would not give it up easily - and when she announced herself by demanding a child, why should she not believe what he had said? With a hammering heart, she transferred the open book into one arm and copied the gesture, raising her hand toward the sillouette looking down on the group.

[Preach]

The knight had grasped his sword, sheathed at his hip. Offenses aside, he was clearly under some thrall as once the brook spilled over, he stilled. Despite her apparent love for violence, this lady did not want the boy dead; or at least, she didn't want him dead yet, for who knew what plans she had in store for him. So, the knight stilled, though he stared at the boy and his uncle quite unflinchingly. Despite his haggard appearance, the man was clearly a warrior. Tarquin wasn't sure whether he or Gay or anyone in the group would be able to do anything if the man charged them.

The lightning that Eliza summoned struck quite literally out of the blue; there were no clouds anywhere. There were two prongs of it and both connected with the tower, though a third sprung off from the stones and hit the knight and then sprung off and hit some of the nearby corpses that were also clad in armor. There was a shrill scream of pain, though that was quickly drowned out by the booming thunder. The roiling noise was only compounded by the crashing tumbling-down of the rough tower as it fell and formed an impossibly large heap of stones.

All that was left of the knight and the corpses on the trees was piles of ash, meaning that everyone was dead, and the ones that had already been dead were only dead-er. The grass around the tower had dried and turned yellowish, though some of the grass around the pile of stones had been gently set on fire. The brook had seemingly evaporated, the trees directly adjacent to the clearing had turned black and burned. The smell of sulfur hung faintly in the air. Eliza's hand and fingernails had turned a rather alarming shade of charcoal, but was functionally fine so there probably wasn't any cause for alarm or anything. The extremely potent hand gesture had apparently lived up to its name.

A small part of the rubble stirred as something presumably tried to come out. What emerged was a little dove with a grey back and wings and a white belly, and a brilliant scarlet stain on its front as if it had been recently wounded, pierced through the chest. It looked rather disgruntled, and it perched atop the rubble, cocking its head and looking at the group gathered at the mouth of the path that led to the clearing.

"Good God! My God!" It was Tarquin, and he was screaming, shouting, as he turned and faced Eliza. "Do you have any idea-- any modicum of a clue as to what you've done!? If you've killed her--" He turned back to the rubble and smoothed a handsome hand over his handsome brow, looking at the scene with disbelief and horror. "God! You fool!"

The bird, alarmed by the shouting, flattened its feathers as if ready to bolt. It opened its mouth as if to coo or cry out, but the sound that they heard was like drumming, or a beating heart. The rubble shifted again and it fluttered to a lower part of the now-collapsed tower, further away from the group.

But there was no change in the atmosphere, apart from the slightly sulfuric smell and the charged atmosphere brought by the lightning. It was heavy, as if a great magical presence was still there. All signs pointed to the fact that the lady, or some part of her, was still alive.

[TheBarbarian]

The situation was going from bad to worse. The boy was trying to challenge the knight hollering at the top of his lungs that the knight who protected the bridge was a brute and a Scottish barbarian. It would have been somewhat funny had it not been for the gathering anger in the knights pale face. Finn was still sure that he could take him if need be but he hoped things would not come to that.

As Gay finished his tirade the woman from the tower seemed to speak up though Finn could not quite make out what she asked of Tarquin. However when the text appeared in front of them her meaning was pretty clear. She wanted to trade the boy for the heart. That could not be allowed. The boy had many faults but what Finn had seen in the castle had only made it more clear to him that fairy's had no real care for the well being of their human servants. Eliza was thinking along the same lines it seemed as she took up her dropped book and made some complex hand movements.

The effects were instantaneous and slightly frightening. A three pronged bolt of lightning struck and briefly blinded Finn. When his vision returned the clearing was changed. There was now only ash were there had before been corpses and the English knight. The tower also had been reduced to ruble with even the small brook gone. He turned to Eliza. "Holy mother... That was quite the show lass." He was about to say more but he saw something from the corner of his eye.

As Finn watched a bird climbed out from the tower ruble. Looking a tiny bit disgruntled. Finn was about to approach it when Tarquin began to yell at Eliza. Angry and petulant as usual. "Hush." Finn told them both pointing at the bird and putting a finger to his lips but it was too late the dove had retreated from the noise making a strange beating sound with it's throat as it did. Finn began to slowly approach the thing keeping his movements slow and nonthreatening. The bird turned to regard him with a single curious eye. It hopped slightly closer. When Finn was less than a foot from it he stopped and extended a hand with some crumbs he had found in his Sporran. The bird hopped even closer. With one swift motion Finn grabbed for it. It tried to fly away but the Scott was slightly faster and had it by one leg. "Someone help me with this dam bird!" He yelled using his other hand to hold the birds right legs while it frantically flapped it's wings to get away.

[Minkasha]

Gay, quickly calmed down from his anger to the mean knight. Distracted by the butterflies kissing and tickling his face he giggled away unaware his life was up for barter. Sparkling green eyes kept on his winged companions, oblivious to all.

Ms. Flower grabbed his attention for just a moment as one of her petals stretched out and from seemingly nowhere petals began to fall from the sky over the tower. The tall building crumbled into a beautiful pile of soft red and purple as petals tumbled down.

“Oh my!” Gay shouted, seeing the knight also turn into such beauty. The site was stunning, seeing the grace of Ms. Flowers spread among all. Petals started to sprinkle down the trees, even some trees had turned into giant flowers, even bigger than Ms. Flower herself! The boy blushed, mesmerized.

Gay had ran from Ms. Flower, over to the first pile of petals that was once the knight, butterflies slowly followed behind him. His mind was so lost he could not hear the screaming of his dear uncle. One of his youthful hands grabbed a pile of the petals, watching some of them flow out between his fingers.

“Ms. Flower!” He raised the petals for her to see “Gorgeous!” he cheered before tossing them up into the air above him. He giggled when they fell all over his hair and face, he was going to be like Ms. Flower!

Running through the small pile of petals before him, Gay merrily went over to the pile of rocks that somehow caught the bird, a leg stuck between two piled rocks. The rocks were yelling in some sort of funny way, the way they spoke make Gay laugh and clap his hands.

As Gay approached the bird, it began to calm down and look at the boy. Reaching up, the bird began to rub its head to his rosy, truly ash covered, palm.

“Another friend” His sunny face looked to the pile of rocks. “Mr. Rock, would you be courteous enough as to relinquish my newfound friend?”

The boy stood before Ser Finn covered in the ash of the incinerated dead, delightful. Two butterflies landed on his head, one on his shoulder, slowly flapping their wings.