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Post by Krakenbox on Oct 3, 2021 22:07:00 GMT -8
As instructed, those of the Silent Arrow checked in with Brunhilda, Lady of the Inhospitable Chamber to her fellow courtiers and known Pledgesmith to the Freehold at large. One on one, the human eyes of the manticore widened slightly with recognition, informing the hunter quietly that they were to be pulled for a Winter Rite. It would still contribute to the Ashen Hunt as a whole, and had been sanctioned by the monarch of Fall, but they were to remain silent on their participation and keep their names on the roster while the rest of the court took care of their absence. Though Blaze and Lucas had at least the small introduction to each other, the wild-haired Nott was a newer face to both of them. None of them seemed to be particularly connected to one another in a surprise twist, and they had the sneaking suspicion that there were likely several other cells being formed in a similar fashion. Lucas pinging for a pattern of political association, he asked whether Blaze and Nott were Veiled or Mourning were met with blank looks, and he realized they weren't sworn to a Knight yet.Swearing into a war party motley for the evening, they joined the rest of the revelry to imbibe the spirit, and were plucked from the ranks as they moved through the dark corridors of the massive Hollow. Led from one exit to another, the three found themselves in a slaughterhouse, breath crystalizing in the air of the dark refrigerator as they beheld the scene in front of them.Three mundies were black bagged and sat, bound in a line and starting to turn blue from the amount of water that had been dumped on them. Mordecai hovered over one with his hand on the nap of the man's neck, whispering something in his ear with the Mark of the Hunt only serving to exaggerate the Ogre's intimidating features. Blistering ice extenuating jagged troll-like features and shark teeth wreathed with glowing frost whenever he exhaled. He indicated the artifacts on the table, marked with evidence tags: a tooth brush, bald lug nuts, a wedding ring, a shell fired from a pistol, and a Ghost Bead bracelet. Blaze was asked to learn their deepest regrets from the brush, screws, and ring. Nott was asked to commune with the bullet and bracelet—along with when it was fired and who gave the bracelet.
Lucas was asked to profile the one in the center by breaching his Bastion.
They were suspected of being part of a budding Hunter cell.
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Post by Blaze on Oct 5, 2021 7:34:21 GMT -8
Blaze was informed that she'll need to her Court superiors early on in the event, but this is not what she expected. Figuring this to be simply a set of special objectives for the regular hunts, the Sprite didn't allow the issue to occupy her mind much, if only to not give the other Courts the impression that something serious was going down. But it seemed the issue goes much deeper as she, Nott and Lucas are requested to swear an Oath and remain secretive about the task's mere existence.
When they enter the slaughterhouse, Blaze is barely able to keep a neutral expression. Low temperature probably helps - any wince or sign of being uncomfortable could be attributed to the cold. The whole scene - bagged, anonymous people about whom she knows nothing but is assured they mean ill, the scattered personal effects, the signs of torture and the unsmiling officers - reminds her unpleasantly of some of the less glorious moments from her military career. It's a jarring experience, something from a past life that comes back to haunt you long after you thought it buried and forgotten.
And as always, Blaze retreats into comfort of knowing that there is a reason, a bigger purpose to it all that they all serve. Whatever feelings or demons she might have, they only weaken her, and by extension harm the whole Rite. She has her orders. And that means she will carry them out.
The items she's been asked to examine appear unconnected and random on the surface, but Blaze knows better than put 'random' next to any matters fae. Everything is connected and has rules, they are just not always visible. She tastes each object in turn and lets the Glamour swell up and power the magic of Winter that makes Sorrow come to the fore.
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Post by Lucas Chevalier on Oct 8, 2021 21:16:40 GMT -8
The Onyx Fairest was both surprised and unsurprised that Team Winter was being pulled off to the side for their own secret mission of sorts. If anyone had a secret mission during an event like this it was going to be their court. They were known as the Silent Arrow for a reason. Lucas followed the others to the meeting place. When he discovered he was the one Oath bound courtier in the mix he felt a sudden surge of responsibility flow through him. After what happened to Maks he wanted to put his best foot forward and help navigate the unbound Onyx to success. The feeling of responsibility and the desire to role model success amplified when the three of them forged a war motley together. The magical bindings between the three of them created a supernatural bond that wouldn't exist with a normal mission.
The slaughterhouse was abysmal to say the least. The cold didn't trouble the Fairest as his body temperature ran low to begin with. He glanced over at Blaze with a sympathetic look as he imagined the cold and her didn't mix all that well.
There were two items that stood out to him; the wedding ring and the ghost bead. He kept a stoic expression on his face, not wanting to betray any empathetic emotions he may have towards the humans and their current situation. While he didn't enjoy causing suffering to anyone, humans included, the hunters had chosen this path. Regardless of their reasons, which likely started off as an altruistic desire to protect humans from "monsters" like themselves, they were a threat to the Freehold. It was the hunters or them and Lucas was going to choose protecting the Freehold every time even if it meant they had to get their hands dirty.
He nodded to Mordecai as the instructions were passed along to them. He closed his eyes over briefly as he summoned the Arcadian magic inside of him to allow him to step into the Hunter's dreams. Once the magic flickered around his body, he stepped forward and touched the Hunter's shoulder in an attempt to synchronize with his dreams.
Fuck.
A surge of anxiety shot from his chest all along his arms until his fingers felt tense and stiff. The one time he was involved with others who were depending on him during one of these events and not just socializing or taking risks on his own and he was already fucking it up. He drew in a deep breath through his teeth, tapping into the mental safe space he had created for himself during his earlier meditation. If he kept hammering away at his psyche he was going to bumble this up more and more.
Focus, Chevalier. Focus. I got this.
He flexed his fingers a couple of times to loosen his joints and calm the internal screaming in his mind. If he didn't break through their bastion, they were going to break through the Freehold. He couldn't allow that to happen. He wouldn't allow that to happen. Once his arm felt more relaxed he gave it another go, forcing the full might of his will to smash through the Hunter's Bastion.
This time around he is able to kick open the doors of the Bastion without any resistance and peer into the soul of the Hunter.
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Post by Krakenbox on Oct 9, 2021 22:30:13 GMT -8
Without her knowledge of stretching the interpretation of the Contract, Nott knew she would just have visions on whatever Winter Courtier picked this crap up. That story didn't matter, it was the context of who they might be dealing with. Nott worked thumbed the ghost beads, whispers echoing through the freezer as the dried berries were conversed with. A representation of everything being spiritually connected, and a charm from ill fortune and evil spirits—the scene playing out before her for who handed off the bracelet. A conversation between an older gentleman with twin braids offering the gift with a shared understanding that this was a time of uncertainty. He calls one receiver of a similar bracelet " Rob", remarking that their people's history between the Diné and Nuwuvi wasn't a peaceful one, but his niece being spirited away was a shared pain, and face-changers returning to drag her back was something they weren't going to wait for outsiders to give a shit. A small tradition he wanted to pass to his neighbours while they prepared. A few other faces were present, nodding in agreement from the Skinwalkers attacking their houses. The man currently being held in the freezer gingerly takes the offering. He talks about watching a monster leaping into the alley after a pair of people—he believes his nine month old son died around the same time the monster turned back into a woman. His friend warned him a soulless man would hunt for him after he broke and made a scene about it at church. As he hid and dug around, he found whispers that the girlfriend of that alleyway corpse hadn't actually skipped town. Stepping back into herself and the present, Nott then moved on to the empty shell, mentally preparing herself for the image of a Lost getting their stomach blasted wide open, or losing a chunk of their cranium. Rather, the world faded to a forest road not native to anywhere close. The insurance on Californian plates indicated 2014, while a young officer with the tag Szabó raced from his own vehicle towards the open door of the trailer, service rifle cocked as he called out to his parents with cautious confusion, before desperately calling for 'Luca'. The snapshot of seconds provided a frenzied scene as the man first clocked the violent crimson pools and the pair of shot, cooling bodies; moving to the limp child, held up by of collar of shining, scaled fists that crumbled to dust and drying weeds. Tapetum lucidum catch the flashlight as slits contract, and adolescent Golden Boy fleeing further into the trailer as the shell clips his ducking form, the officer screaming after him. Mordecai watched the Wizened, waiting for Nott to share what she had learned.
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Post by Krakenbox on Oct 10, 2021 15:16:47 GMT -8
Blaze lifted the retrieved tooth brush that was simply tossed for being worn out, but the regret of the owner was old and entrenched. A resident of an apartment going up in flames, hearing a small voice shouting for help through the wall. He jumped instead, wasting no time as another gout of explosive power shook the condo. The decision would cost him his mobility. As he was attended to, the doubt in his instincts cement as a man breaks through the police line and charges into the fire, only to return minutes later carrying a bound child immediately handed to paramedics trying to resuscitate. The man recognized him as the neighbour, unleashing accusations and his cowardice costing him his family. How was it possible that the man was unscathed? How many could he have saved if he had acted in those precious seconds? The stripped lug nuts were a steel trap for sympathetic connection as the Contract failed—from a vehicle that was well driven and apparently sporting new tires. That was that. The wedding band painted a picture of a failed marriage, the pain still fresh as the jewelry was finally abandoned. She blamed herself for making her son catch the bus after his shift was done, looking to boost his confidence and independence after he was relying on her too much. Confirming her child's face, flesh torn and chewed in the morgue told her she should have appreciated the time he wanted to spend with her. Her regret had made it easy for her husband to eventually agree, or at least that's how she felt. She could never let it go. How and why had a passenger with a massive head injury from the crash tear into her son?
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Post by Krakenbox on Oct 10, 2021 22:26:19 GMT -8
Lucas Chevalier dug around on Dream Time, taking in the Bastion as he took a sweep of any eidolons or Scenes worth directing and digging into for Winter's benefit. The Bastion told the Fairest that Jonathan Wong was a quiet and charismatic man reeling from the sudden death of his infant son, chasing an understanding of brushing the supernatural. He was quite focused and effective in his search for answers of why him and his wife had been struck by tragedy, becoming closely connected to a figure he revered as a mentor of sorts—Adrian Szabó, who offered direction in his confused, downward spiral in helpless depression. Meeting others in Vegas with these disturbing experiences has led to a relationship with some of the local Bands, where the Native communities take his grievances seriously. He's been creating these underground support groups, looking to pool information and find likeminded individuals who need to take action. They've been networking—becoming radicalized to express their pain and fear through violence against the strange and powerful.
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Nott
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Presence 2 (Animated)
Posts: 25
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Post by Nott on Oct 11, 2021 16:11:46 GMT -8
Nott placed the shell casing back into almost the exact place it had been plucked from on the table. The tip of her finger lingered on it as she met Mordecai's eyes, trying not to let her own gaze waver. It was too early to overthink things, but her gut resisted the naming of another Lost in front of mundanes. At the same time, it seemed naive to imagine they'd be able to tell anyone anything after this. Insulting, even.
"Shot by an Officer Szabó in 2014 at Golden Boy, who he witnessed dispatching a fetch. It happened in a trailer on a wooded road, probably in California; people I assume to be Szabó's parents were shot and killed before he arrived." About to shift focus, Nott added: "The fetch was of a child."
All business, she paused for a beat to leave space for questions before holding the beads up in her palm. "This was given by an older man with twin braids, seemed like a Native community leader from what I could tell. Talking to a group about shared understanding during a difficult time. He gave these to two men: one named Rob, whose niece had been taken, and the other was one of our friends here." A brief nod was made toward the shivering figures. "He saw a monster and connects its transformation back into a woman when it died to the death of his nine month old son around the same time. Someone warned him that a 'soulless man' would be looking for him after he made a scene about it in public."
Returning the beads, Nott's eyes slid back to the bound figures with dispassionate sympathy. People trying to protect their community and their children, their homes. Trying to indentify a beast from its shadow, unable to parse where one threat began and another ended.
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Post by Lucas Chevalier on Oct 12, 2021 4:11:31 GMT -8
The images of the torn and bereaved family reignited the rage Lucas had felt back when he was investigating the death of Yasmin. Another life wasted because of the selfish acts of Lost. There were difficult decisions that had to be made for the overall health of the Freehold and then there was selfish curiosity. While he was sympathetic to Bonnie's plight especially after learning about the Maelstrom, there were parts of him that held a certain degree of bitterness towards her too. She knew he was a Gravewight. She could have reached out to him to help, trusted in their shared bond over death, and worked towards a different solution if nothing else.
But she forged ahead and so did the rest of the group.
Now several of them were dead, broken, and families were destroyed. The same families were also seeking answers and those answers would bring them at the Freehold's doorstep. If he was int heir position, he would probably do the same thing so he couldn't really fault them. Except he was in the opposite position and he needed to keep his family safe. None of the mortals were going to be walking out of here alive. The best they could hope for would be a quick death.
The rage brewing inside of him had kerosene doused on it after the mentioning of Golden Boy. If he didn't shut off his emotions quickly, he was going to begin to question every interaction he had with the Other Fairest which wasn't the healthiest decision to make when he was keyed up. He needed to be focused so they could get as much information as possible and then follow other leads.
A sheet of magical ice spread across his body until it was all consuming. All of his worries, anger, and anxiety were frozen out. The only voice he could hear in his head was his own voice. The ruinous whispers of anxiety had been silence.
"I broke through his Bastion. His name is Jonathan Wong and he was recruited by Szabo. He was set off on this path because of the after effects of Bonnie Hill's ritual failing. If you've read Autumn's trial for The Autumn Darkling Rowan, then you'll already know that the failed ritual caused a blast of necromantic energy that rippled into the mortal world. Mr. Wong suddenly lost his infant son, as did many other mortals. He began looking for answers and that trail of questioning lead him to Szabo. A handful of weeks or so ago, I paired up with Ivory from the Verdant court to tackle the crippling sorrow the wave release. Mental health and medical care has become more affordable, but that's not going to be enough for those who have already lost loved ones. "
He shook his head while he let the information sink in before switching over to Nott.
"Tell me more about Golden Boy's connection with Szabo, if you're able to."
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Post by Blaze on Oct 12, 2021 14:29:40 GMT -8
"The lug nuts are barren."
The mechanical parts were a false lead. A white noise. And like white noise, they get put aside, so as not to distract from the mission. Blaze filters it out, trained to only concern herself with what's right in front of her. The other two items, on the other hand, were full of deeply entrenched emotions and memories. If Blaze wasn't used to calling on this Contract, the vivid visions would probably smack her like a fist.
"The brush belongs to one of them. He feels guilty for failing to act when it mattered, letting a child die in a burning building to save himself - this failure to save lives is his greatest regret. He saw someone - possibly the father of this child - walk in and out of the fire unscathed, but it was too late for the child then. He was accused of cowardice. This is his penance. Preventing suffering to pay for the one he didn't stop."
There was no point in relaying every fragment of the memory. For now, the Sprite settles for the abridged version, only the things that are immediately relevant. If more is needed, she can always elaborate. Her voice is calm and collected, like she's just reciting a reconaissance report to her superiors. Because, in truth, she is.
"The wedding ring is for a marriage that no longer exists. The death of this woman's child weighs on her more than anything. She feels guilty that she put him on that bus that day, when the dead were walking and feasting on the living. This is her fear: of the terrors that should not be, who take without rhyme or reason."
She wonders how much of what's going on do these people understand. In these final moments of their lives, are they terrified of the massive invasions of privacy and strangers spelling out secrets they have no right to know? Are they resigned, feeling like they failed? Or are they at peace, prepared to die with satisfaction? Blaze will probably never know - and that, more than anything else, causes her to feel some fleeting simulacrum of remorse.
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Nott
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Presence 2 (Animated)
Posts: 25
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Post by Nott on Oct 13, 2021 22:40:02 GMT -8
Nott's mouth shrugged in time with her shoulders, her burning gaze settling on Lucas. How to put it.
"I'm making a lot of assumptions here, but I'm almost certain they're blood relatives. Barring adoption."
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Post by Krakenbox on Oct 16, 2021 23:12:47 GMT -8
Mordecai straightened, expression hardening as Nott and Chevalier's recollection spun a united thread. His face pinched further when it was said out loud that the source of a major Freehold threat was just the failures of their community in its darkest iteration. Vengeance was a cycle, and Winter served to break the wheel. "Well, it's something," the Ogre muttered to Lucas' recount of his charity work. Sedna may have tapped him to compliment the fair Fairest more when he volunteered what he was up to. He grabbed one of the burner phones set aside, plugging messages as he spoke. "This is a problem we created, so now we're going to clean it up."
The concern over the captured mundane was awkwardly shelved for the time being, and the open way Mordecai was speaking was slowly confirming Blaze's suspicion that they weren't walking out of the freezer. A few minutes passed before Golden Boy's mantle punched through a strategic mirror, daisy chaining Fawkes and Lancelot as the room flashed with lightning and dry ice before metal curled on the tongue. The Chatelaine's eyebrow went up at the scene, glancing at the other Outsiders for any hint of familiarity with yet another Vegas quirk. All three of them look slightly tousled, with Fawkes sporting a clean bleeding cut across the new cracks of his own mantle, Golden with scraped and bruises, and Lancelot having what appeared to be the decapitated head of a paper-wrapped face tied to his belt. The Spirit of the Hunt still lit up their features, with the sharp teeth of barely contained frowns and heightened fidgeting—they had clearly been dragged from their own respective mission. Everyone's heads then turned from the scraping metal of Cailleagh hauling open the freezer door with Riley Sorsa of all Changelings in tow, waving her phone at Mordecai like it was an accusation. Mordecai's smile was anything but friendly. "Sorsa! Just in time." Fawkes folded his arms, expression still while Golden Boy openly stared in confusion. The Ogre gestured to the table with the firearms, "We've got a volunteer looking to make amends for breaking the Rite of Imbolc, and prove they can respect the gravity of a secret. So, welcome back to being in the shit, Riley." He snapped the fingers of his other hand to the other tray, next to the captured individuals, that was laden with what looked like a ceremonial blade. "Riley, Golden, Nott, Blaze, Lancelot and Lucas—shoot them or peel them," he ran a finger along the edge of his face, sweeping it forward to indicate what they were skinning, "Six tasks for six people. Sort out who's doing what."
Golden Boy actually blanched, while Lancelot and Fawkes exchanged a brief look. Eyes not leaving Mordecai, the thief moved fast to pick up one of the blades rather than the gun, handing tremoring slightly before he started to idly spin it. "Fuck off," Fawkes suddenly barked, eyes hollow with felfire as he unfolded his arms and faced off the Ogre. Lancelot tilted his head, clearly confused on where the chain of command started and ended and opted to hesitate.
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Riley Sorsa
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Presence (3) Captivating | SL(1) Stylish Mantle (2)Spring | Status(1) Entertainment
Posts: 913
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Post by Riley Sorsa on Oct 17, 2021 7:53:50 GMT -8
Riley's eyes trace over the gathering of lost. They stand painfully out, their mantle drawing everyone's eyes, and the golden dust mote rays and their inner glow acting as a beacon to just how out of place they were here. A flower in a field of frost.
The darkling tries their best to bring the illumination to heel, seeming to dim to a low thrum; with a nod to those gathered. Lucas, Golden. and others they didn't know... that didn't matter now, the moth couldn't think about them. They turn quickly and begin to listen to the instructions.
Riley goes pale at the request, glancing from Mordecai to the others. The quiver in their hand was halted by the other as Riley pulled it into line. The darkling's eyes lingered on the gun and knife before moving to the victims. Their mind danced and swirled with the obsession of the evening; the spirit of the hunt boiled within them. Their hand floats over the weapons of choice.
Distant memories churned, unremembered dreams of music and fervor. The sensation of wind and a song long forgotten. The sensation of being more crawled beneath their flesh, screaming to be realized.
Then Fawkes spoke out. The Moth paused in their thoughts, hesitating at the sudden change in energy of the room. Riley didn't know the court well enough to understand the role between Fawkes and Mordecai.
The darkling eyes narrowed, focusing on the moment between the two, trying to understand the motivations of what was happening here. Why would Fawkes, the sunbanisher, speak out against the Winters rite?
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Post by Krakenbox on Oct 17, 2021 8:55:26 GMT -8
Riley's attention stays on Fawkes as he moves, assessing his motives.
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Post by Lucas Chevalier on Oct 17, 2021 10:25:31 GMT -8
The magical ice that encased the Fairest's emotions allowed him to remain calm while the orders were given to him. His body remained unmoving except for his fog which had mixed with the ice radiating off of his body. The mist was thicker than usual and a brighter white.
The humans couldn't leave here alive, that much was true. The worst part was that this the Freehold's fault. None of the mortals wanted to go down this path. They wanted to be with their families. They wanted to raise their children. The internal politics of the Freehold forced the hands of the mortals and would continue to until they figured their shit out.
While it would be easier for him to remain in his ice form and protect his emotions from the fallout, he needed to use his humanity to connect with the others. Peeling their faces and desecrating their bodies was a step too far when the blame lay at their feet.
The ice disappeared and his fog parted so he could stare at everyone before shifting his gaze to Mordecai.
"We will shoot them but we're not going to peel their faces. Not without a damn good reason. The balance of life and death has already been thrown into chaos. What purpose does peeling their face serves?"
The Fairest stood defiant and used the force of personality to become more forthcoming on why removing their faces was a vital part of this rite or order or whatever it was the higher ups in Winter wanted to see done.
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Post by Krakenbox on Oct 17, 2021 10:45:18 GMT -8
Mordecai blinked, leaning to look past the Torrent in a dismissive gesture.
"Fulfillment of a Rite and snuffing the threat. You'll see."
Either he wasn't going to share the details of how it worked, wasn't allowed to, or didn't want to in front of Riley or the mortals. Fawkes didn't opt any new information either.
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