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Post by mavspade on Jan 1, 2022 13:43:53 GMT -8
Neon light bathes the bustling side alley. The shadow and shapes of the occupants pulsed to the restless heart of goblin-filled China town. The air is rife with smells both human and hob, intoxicating and pungent. Henly knew the liminal space between Las Vegas and the Goblin Market. Commonly, the Whistler was not easy to find and selective in who is allowed to use its time. However, that was no issue for Henly. Who, with charm and connections made a few skilled persuasions (made easier by the stern glare of his Elemental companion), found a contact to deliver them. The door was nestled off the main drag, bearing no sign or remarkable indicators. It was heavy metal, giving the impression of an industrial-grade back door. After a few knocks on the door from Henly contact, it slowly swung open and welcomed them into the room beyond. The room smelt of corroding metal, old rags, and a faint tint of dried cardamom. The hollow was a tight space, made more Closter phobic by the stacked crates and mildew rotted bags. A shuffling could be heard upon the table. There rustling through a stack of fleshy stone fruits was a small hob, made of petals and thorns. She looked up with her bright pink eyes before her flower-like wings fluttered. "Ah!" she proclaims in a mild surprise. "Greetings, my master will join us shortly," her voice squeaks. "Tea, or perhaps a draft of liqueur? While you wait?"
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Post by Henley on Jan 1, 2022 19:08:49 GMT -8
The rush of questions, moving through the occupants of Chinatown, had Henley on a bit of a high as he led Blaze through the Fae underworld. The Whistler was a pain in the ass to find, he explained to Blaze, and it was important that they showed a little respect to the Hob who was in the know. It wasn't like basic Hobs; a creature like this had a Name, which meant it was For Real. Dangerous? To them, perhaps, perhaps not - but it was important to be the right balance of direct and respectful. Too much respect, and the Hob would think it had you by the balls. Too little, and it might not even want to talk. Baby bear it. Just right. Henley gave the little creature a nod as he came through the door first, watching as it went through the fruits. The offer was met with a polite smile, but a bit of frost came through as he simultaneously clocked the intention to try to lock them into something early on. "No, that won't be necessary."He kept his sunglasses on, glancing at Blaze before returning his attention to the faerie. "As I don't want to do the Whistler the discourtesy of surprise, tell them that Henley of Outback and Blaze here seeking parley with respect to items of significant emotional value being stolen from people. The problem has begun to draw attention. I'd like accurate information. Why they benefit from helping us is because this problem's continued spread will more than likely lead to increased regulation from Sir Bastille. I intend to stop it."
Outback. The Motley mattered here and now because Gavin Graves mattered to these creatures. As one of the people who enabled them to even be here with the Trod re-opening, it didn't hurt to toss his name around.
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Post by Blaze on Jan 2, 2022 14:12:11 GMT -8
She listens and nods to Henley's explanations, having no problem acknowledging the Ogre as the expert in dealing with hobgoblins - Blaze had her own experiences in that area, but probably not more than any Lost with the ambition of doing anything else than survive. The Elemental steels herself to not flinch at the stink of the Hollow. A good thing that Henley already declined refreshments - it saved her the need to speak, and meant a simple shake of her head would suffice. It was obvious that the hobs will try to entangle them in some scheme or disadvantageous debt, and that... well, that's not something the Torrent is looking forward to.
"There's no need to spoil a good thing, is there? We request assistance as a matter of fostering goodwill. It'd certainly go a long way in terms of... mutually beneficial business dealings."
Henley will take point in the talks, and that was more than alright. Doesn't mean she can't help drive the point home from the sidelines.
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Post by mavspade on Jan 3, 2022 10:44:11 GMT -8
The Pixie was a small creature with big feelings. Many hobs would be offended, perhaps angry at the refusal of Hospitality. But, instead, when Henley refused, the Pixie was more disappointed. Not with its Guests, but in its performance as a host. Its face turned pale, and its wings seemed to shiver as if it had failed at a most basic task. Its bright eyes darted between Henly and Blaze for a moment as it took in Henly's instructions. Blaze helped sell how serious this situation was. Then, inspired by a new way to prove its worth, the Flower Pixie puffed. "Of course, of course!" It chirped before fluttering up into the air and whizzing off to inform the Whistler of the guest's arrival and intent. For a moment, the room was silent, leaving a moment of peace for Henly and Blaze to prepare for the hollow host to arrive. The silence, however, was fleeting, broken by a distant tune. The whistling floated into the room. It was remote, not so much in space but time; the sound felt like the conjuring of the memory of a song played upon a penny pipe. The music itself seemed to shift, echoing memorable tunes or beats, but off, the rhythm just twisted, or the melody too high or too low of an occative. It bled from one song to another in a dreamlike manner. It took the two lost a moment the pinpoint its location before realizing the sound drizzled down from the rafters above. Their eyes tracked up to notice a movement of shadow, coiling its way down the rafters and the far wall. It was a heap of matted, shaggy fur, or perhaps lichen and moss-grown into a thick coat. It did not crawl its way with hand or hoof, but more its form undulated and slithered like a mishappen cataipliar. With a light thump, its form landed on the far side of the table before uncoiling upward, a soft hissing as its soft mantle rubbed against the wooden floor. The Whistler produced its head, some blend of goat and giant vole, with piercing crystal eyes. In a comprehensive display of greeting, two large knotted and carved hands undulated from its mass. A myriad of smaller faces and mouths pressed their way from its carpeted body as it began to speak. "Welcome. Henly of Outback, and Blaze. Most welcome in my home."
Each mouth, in turn, hit a singular note, giving its voice a strange disorienting chorus. "Information is what you seek is it? I do not venture into your world. You seek a thief?
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Post by Henley on Jan 3, 2022 15:55:50 GMT -8
Moss and fur slithering down the rafters caught Henley's attention, his water-blue eyes tracking down as it came. The head appeared, and the Nymph gave it a nod of greeting. "We appreciate your welcome. Thank you for seeing us." Glancing to Blaze and back, he started to explain the issue.
"Summer's Law has noticed an increase in break-ins, muggings and theft in the area of South Summerlin. The human victims and witnesses are reporting teenagers with face covers popping out of the shadows, literally, and stealing items of little value that hold emotional weight to the victims. Some of them noticed that the people stealing from them were too long, too short, moving weirdly. One even included a home entrance with no apparent break-in."
He gestured to the Whistler, folding long fingers back into his pocket as he lowered the hand.
"As you can imagine, this has Summer concerned. You know how Bastille is; we don't need their concerns becoming our problems. This doesn't match the local hobs. Might be newcomers, or non-locals; might be something else. Which brings us to you. Someone who pays attention to personnel movements. Someone who knows, and avoids trouble. Heard anything that relates?"
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Post by mavspade on Jan 6, 2022 9:07:00 GMT -8
"Ah yes, yes."
The whistler form seemed to step, crawl? Forward to the desk, pushing aside some of the crates of knick-knacks and oddities.
"We wouldn't want that, not good for me, not good for you."
The Whistler's mouths opened into a chorus of notes. The familiar fluttering of wings answers as the petite Pixie appears. The Whistler's knotted wood-like hand reached out, presenting a small perch, where the Pixie takes a seat crossing its legs.
" I may have information. But I can not give it without cost. Everything has a cost, don't they?"
The many smiles of the Hobgoblin seemed to mimic the cheeky smile of Henly.
"Even failure" suddenly, the Hobs hand-twisted and snapped shut with alarming speed. There was a shocked squeak which was silenced by a sickening wet snap of tiny bones. The Whistler tossed the broken Pixie into a mouth in a single motion, licking its finger clean.
"Now, I see you bring things to trade...may I see?"
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Post by Blaze on Jan 7, 2022 3:51:33 GMT -8
There's an eyebrow raised a quarter of an inch when the Whistler responds to their concerns. There's a want to talk back to the pile of fur and moss not to get smart with them and get to the point, but that'd probably be detrimental to negotiations. As would the second want, to grab a pair of pliers and check if the Whistler has any teeth.
Henley gives a good summary of the case, it's him who carries the goods and him who has more experience dealing with hobs in situations like that, so Blaze is mostly content to let him take the spotlight unless and until the meeting takes a sour turn. Something that the hob says piques her interest, however.
"Failure?"
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Post by mavspade on Jan 7, 2022 14:09:47 GMT -8
The whistler paused, its form twisting to Blaze at the question.
"Yes, Failure," it echoes in response. Its array of mouths broke into smiles again. A singular one still wet with the insides of the fairy.
"Would you not agree that it too comes with a cost? Perhaps a value of its own? All things do. Give, take, and trade. It's up to us to decide their value is it not?"
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Post by Henley on Jan 8, 2022 12:34:45 GMT -8
Hobs were monsters, hard as it was to see sometimes with their beautiful or whimsical vibes. The strong ate the weak, growing in power with each bite. The concept was just as metaphorical as it was literal. The key was to remember it was their world, and that they were just playing in it. The better you knew the rules, the better you'd do, but wrong steps could lead to the Lost being eaten, too.
He placed the bag on the table and unzipped the top. Within were three items he had picked up at pawns or antiquaries: a mostly-written love letter from the journal of a World War II soldier to his girlfriend stained with blood; a well-loved teddy bear missing one eye; and a lawyer's bar certificate that had been stamped DISBARRED.
"The more accurate and useful the information about their identities, whereabouts and motivations that you provide, the more of these you receive."
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Post by mavspade on Jan 9, 2022 12:44:55 GMT -8
Henly was well skilled in the art of Goblin haggling. The Whistler was a worthy match for the Nymph, seeming to take pleasure in the back and forth. Blaze was a strong presence, reminding the Whistler to stay on track, not distract, or ensure boundaries were not crossed. The Hobgoblin moved through the wears offered by the lost. Its knotted fingers were prying and hovering over each momento in turn with discerning grace. Finally, its mouths began their whistling, each echoing the other.
Finally, a bargain was struck. The Whistler lets out a satisfied singular note.
"Yes, this is satisfactory," the hob said, turning to the side, pushing aside some knick-knacks, finding what looks to be a gourd, and pouring itself viscus red drink.
"The goods in question have not made it to the market. Otherwise, they would be in my collection." They gesture about the cluttered hollow.
The mass of moss and mouths undulated back, as it took a long sip from its goblet.
"You seek a predator, a trap hunter that targets the unexpecting and wanderers of the Hedge. It favors the young and humans if it can. I have heard that with bridging the market and the hold. Alongside the weakening of your wards, this Goblin has grown bold with its hunting. Turning towards your world. Some have given this creature the name, The Au Pair. "
The Whistler picks up one of the momentos, running it through its hands, its dark eyes admiring it with inhuman curiosity.
" It's...collection, however, has never been for mementos and bobbles. Why it gathers these, I don't know. Nor has it ever had such...assistance before. I Know that the Au Pair has no love for Father Time and his ever-flowing ever corroding sands. Time is not welcome within its lair. The lair I question is deep in the hedge, off the roads, not easy or for that matter safe to find”
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Post by Henley on Jan 9, 2022 14:47:38 GMT -8
Henley slipped his long fingers into his pockets as the Whistler spoke, taking in the gist. A trap hunter, like a trapdoor spider trying to grab the unwary into its hole, growing past its boundaries into the world. Someone gave it a name, for some fucking reason. An au pair?
"Bet it'll fucking love Gavin Graves, then. Why do they call it an au pair? That's just weird."
Time was the Razorhand's bitch in the Hedge.
"Let's say Summer wanted to go look into this and wrap it up. What are the landmarks in the Hedge we're looking for, if we wanted to pay it a little visit?"
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Post by Blaze on Jan 10, 2022 7:14:31 GMT -8
Some say that hobgoblins are nightmares of humanity given form, and looking at the Whistler Blaze would be inclined to agree. The creature looked and behaved like it could've been spawned by the mind of someone who fell asleep after watching The Godfather on dodgy sushi.
But fuck, at least they're getting somewhere.
"Anything else you can tell us about the Au Pair? What kind of backup it has, what it can do?" It's not impossible that, like Henley said, Summer will be tasked with burning the hob down, but the Torrent would still like to throw some intel their way if possible "You know, it's just occurred to me that if the break-ins are done on the Au Pair's orders, then the mementos might be connected to the rivalry with Time. They embody the idea that not all things pass, and be considered weapons or talismans of some kind."
That wasn't really a question, but Blaze tried not to make it look like she's just musing. Perhaps it'll lead to a sudden revelation if not in her mind, then in others.
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Post by Alecto on Jan 12, 2022 18:16:31 GMT -8
Henley and Blaze receive a text (unless they are currently in a Hollow, in which the signal bounces until connection is made).
There is a Hedge Gate Key to a mobile Hollow with a cloth tunnel
Unless the child involved can use glamour
Then it can be a Token?
He's infected with a flesh eating skin disease that turning him into smoke?
Those involved are hustling what they steal to whatever's nesting in the Hollow. They're pretty desperate so either it's the infection or there's hostages. If they're Avowed they might be being played.
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Post by mavspade on Jan 13, 2022 16:45:10 GMT -8
"The name relates to its proclivity to collect mortal youths. " The whistler tapped the table thoughtfully as Henly pressed for further information.
"I do not know its location. However, I could ascertain such details for a price. All I ask is a meeting with Bastille, with your word of recommendation, of course. Or should that be too much to ask-"
Their form turned towards a blaze. " A little debt from you would do nicely."
Blazes statement about time caused the Whistler to let out a chorused note.
"Ah, perhaps. It is a curious theory, though why pick a fight in your enemy's domain? " The whistler shuttered at the idea.
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Post by Henley on Jan 15, 2022 10:28:42 GMT -8
"I'll consider asking Bastille to meet with you. Whether he would or would not is up to him, ultimately." Glancing to Blaze, he shrugged. It was up to her if she wanted to truck in debt to a Goblin. "It's a good point. The location of its lair is probably not as essential right now as knowing how to find it outside its lair, I suspect. Dunno about you, Blaze, but I'm not a fucking monster hunter."
Leave diving into monster lairs to Henry Cavill. Henley was content to watch it on TV.
"You get me that information, and I'll write to Bastille with your request for a meeting and tell him that you helped us solve this."
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