Treadwell's not the Only Glutton

Treadwell's not the Only Glutton

Postby Dulcie » Thu May 16, 2013 12:15 pm

The Storyteller had made every intention to flee, to run as far as her legs could carry her, to disappear back into the veil, and yet there was something that still tied her to this place, that kept her from going too far.

She had left the Dagger days ago with words to Guiseppe that were intended to assure her safety, but the truth was that her story had cost her a great deal. Her stories had been shorter and shorter as Gloria had grown suspicious. She was hungry, so very hungry and who knew when the next meal would come.

She let the glamour go, the old woman's shell shifting away with a shimmer, and she'd feel her body as it was meant to be, young in appearance and clad in a gown the color of emeralds. She shook her shining red hair and sighed contentedly. A glamour was so exhausting, so costly to keep, and even harder when you were hungry.

She was in the forest now, watching as the parade of children followed after Fiona. She grimaced slightly as her eyes surveyed the first casualty. Killing wasn't her way and for an instant she was grateful that she could feed in a much simpler way. Death was only necessary when the characters allowed it to be so. Not like this and Fiona's manipulation. Still, she could feel the weight of the favor owed lift from her shoulder like bars removed from a cage. There wouldn't have to be any more sacrifices like this one.

She leaned against a tree and closed her eyes a moment, and when she opened them she could see the buffet before her. The aura's radiated around the children. Their fear, their excitement, the joy they felt in the music all glowed about them like something thick and tangible, though only obvious to her. She'd breathe in slowly, the glow slowly drifting away from the children and into her body. Any injuries, aches and pains began to ebb away, her body slowly becoming restored. With a feed like this one she could survive for years. Long enough to get far, far away from this place.
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Re: Treadwell's not the Only Glutton

Postby Glenn » Sun May 26, 2013 1:49 am

This is a story about Myrken Wood and a young man who made it his home and wished so very much to keep it safe.

Myrken Wood was a land constantly under siege. It was a cursed land where monsters, inhuman and human both, preyed upon the good, vulnerable people. A threat would arise and the people would fight back. They would endure. They would rebuild. They would learn nothing and the cycle would start anew.

Glenn Burnie was a boy without a home, a boy forged by cruel men who cared only about the necessities of society and tempered by witnessing a dozen blatant horrors and being able only to run from them. When he arrived in Myrken Wood he was fostered by those brave people who knew only how to fight back and rebuild. He decided to stop running and fight with them. He decided to find a better way.

Cinnabar Calomel seized the Governorship. He was looking for a way out for Myrken, a path to a better day, an end to the cycle. He provided Burnie first with the means and then, after he stepped away, the opportunity. Even then, this boy who was becoming a man, who wanted only to map out that path for the Governor and his people, could not take the steps necessary and cross the lines that one must cross to truly create something new.

The very chains of humanity that originally bound young Glenn to Myrken Wood were severed three years ago in the dank, desperate catacombs of Underdark. The binds to his land and his people were not. Once he had simply sought answers to old questions in order to light the path. Now he created an Inquisitory to destroy the night altogether. Once he had shielded his bethrothed from all that might harm her. Now he turned and wielded her against the darkness.

An old lady had told her stories. Lives had been changed dramatically. Testimonies were recorded and thanks to the hard work of Inquisitors Tolleson and Bromn the truth had begun to take shape. It was not Gloria Wynsee, herself as much of a victim of these stories as anyone, had come forward at much risk to her own life that the shape of the truth finally became clear. The man in black had tried to silence her, but wonders and horrors had stayed his hand. It inspired Myrken's 'angel' to look deeper into the Jerno's mind and discover just what she was not to say.

Even with all that, even with a Myrken more prepared and proactive than ever before, it was the Storyteller's own avarice and carelessness that would be her downfall. Rhaena had been enjoying the carnival with Glenn. From there, she felt the deaths of children she considered so important. She was emotionally linked to those whose young intellects she tended. Her heart was so large for them. She felt their deaths deaths deeply and it brought her full attention to the woods. As she was trying to hone in on the loss and pain, to find them, to help them, the Storyteller dropped her glamour so that she could fully feast upon this macabre tale. To Rhaena Olwak it was like a flame that blotted out all other light.

The Storyteller feasted. She shut her eyes. She gorged as she had not for so long. Eventually, though, she had to open those eyes. When she did, there, out of the woods before her were two figures. Glenn Burnie strode forward, his beloved upon his arm. She herself was a victim of the stories, not that the Governor knew it, but that would not help Grawnya now. It would only doom her. A bevy of constables had been assembled and were now forming upon her position in a ringed formation.

The Governor spoke, firmly and calmly, his anger as cold as Rhaena's was hot. "Storyteller, I think you would be somewhat mortified to know how I like my tales. I like to flip to the back page. I like to learn how they end and have that knowledge in my mind from the very beginning. Sometimes I like to ruin them for others that way too. Let me tell you how this story ends." They walked forward in chilling unison, minds connected and guiding their strides. "It ends with you in chains, starved and helpless, divulging to me your every secret. It ends with you punished for all that you've done to us. It ends, Storyteller; it is your end and the beginning of that end is now."
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Re: Treadwell's not the Only Glutton

Postby Dulcie » Sun May 26, 2013 6:51 am

Grawnya's eyes opened slowly. She felt the presence of the others before she really knew that they were there. She didn't try to run, she didn't try to dispute any claims, she simply pulled herself back into a standing position, her green eyed gaze falling on those that had come to claim her into iron chains. That would never do of course. But then again these weren't the first people she had escaped either.

Her hand clenched about the walking stick in her hand, the runes beginning to glow green, and there was a rustle of power in the air.

"How sad that we couldn't become friends Glenn Burnie. I could have given you so much of the world. It's such a shame that we must part this way, truly."

Her eyes crinkled a bit at the corners then, and smile curved up at the corners of her lips.

"Let me tell you a story about a forest." She began, and immediately they would feel the snap and crackle of magic in the air. "It was such a unique forest, where the trees had minds of their own, and hearts filled with hatred for humanity."

And though the story had only just begun those who had come to serve the Governor would see that the trees had begun to move. Bark covered arms were forming, and eyes were opening in the knots of the wood.
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Re: Treadwell's not the Only Glutton

Postby Jirai » Sun May 26, 2013 7:16 am

There is a certain symmetry here, not that most would recognize it. Years ago, a girl guided a boy through these very woods, following the beacon that was Teron Ashfiend. Now that girl was a woman, elaborately gowned. That boy was the governor, and instead of the Ashfiend there was the Storyteller, a beacon of a different sort.

She walked forward, her hand on the governor's arm, absolute rage in her eyes. These were her people, her children. How dare this creature try something like this in Myrken Wood? And how dare she try to work another spell here and now? It was unacceptable. Bronze eyes lost their focus and Rhaena Olwak began to take things into her own hands. The brief encounter with Giuseppe had given her an idea of what to expect and time had allowed her to figure out a way to navigate. Grawnya was so much more than Giuseppe, but Rhaena Olwak was determined.

"No." she said firmly. "This is not your story. Not anymore."
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Re: Treadwell's not the Only Glutton

Postby Glenn » Sun May 26, 2013 7:59 am

"This is not your Wood." Rhaena Olwak was doing the heavy lifting. That was fine. It was more than fine maybe, because despite his reputation, Glenn Burnie was better at the things that did not take raw power. "It lives. It breathes. It shelters us and sometimes, Storyteller, it terrifies us. There are dark things in these woods, far darker than you." He squeezed his beloved's arm and then began to walk forward. Her story claimed a superiority over the forest itself. Rhaena's power said otherwise, but then, so did the Governor's belief. It was that belief, that obsessive force that had driven him for years, that allowed him to walk forward untouched.

"We've stood against it's darkness and have been nurtured by its bounty. Your stories? They're strange and potent and terrifying. They're everything an imagination might come up with." He continued to advance, and as he did, a wild smile came over his face. Now and again Glenn Burnie had his lapses, a bit of Underdark come to the surface. "We deal with worse every single day." Another step, two, three, his pace quickening. "And this is a secret, Storyteller, so don't share it, but," hand went to hilt as his sword of steel and iron was drawn. It was no longer a once-mapmaker closing in on her. No, this was Ariane Emory's final student, a monster's monster, the one that Myrken both needed and deserved so very much. "we are worse."
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Re: Treadwell's not the Only Glutton

Postby Dulcie » Sun May 26, 2013 8:21 am

The damned witch was in her head, trolling around in there amongst so many stories. So many images and words, some new and some very, very old. She could feel the wench poking around, finding the place that compelled her to stop from telling the stories.

The trees lingered where they were, their limbs flailing and their eyes watching, but their roots were firmly in the ground and no further malice had come from them.

Grawnya narrowed her eyes slightly, the glow in her walking stick continued even as she was silenced from the story. She found her own words then, the ones that were without magic.

"We could have been allies. I have helped Kings rule thrones and Queens in dispatching them. I am no worse than you are." She called in a bold voice that spoke of years of confidence.

A sword was drawn then, and only had that cold steel been revealed that the woman would begin to run. She ducked away from Glenn, taking off in the direction of where Fiddler was still fighting her own battle. If she could get there in time the other could Call her away from this place and let her pass through the veil.

She was quick, but not inhumanely so, her dress and her firm grip on her walking stick impeded her motion, but she ran as best that she could, hoping that the element of surprise would do her some good.
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Re: Treadwell's not the Only Glutton

Postby Jirai » Sun May 26, 2013 8:33 am

She stayed where she was as Glenn Burnie advanced on the storyteller, unfocused gaze turned towards the two of them. But it wasn't what was happening here that she was concerned with. No, Rhaena Olwak was doing the heavy lifting, sorting through stories, endless images and words to shut down Grawyna's magic, her storytelling. And she managed that, but not without great effort. The storyteller was not human, and even after Rhaena forced her to stop the stories continued to assault the woman's mind, an endless swarming threatening to overwhelm her if she faltered for a moment.

So she did not falter.

Not all of the stories in Grawnya's head were so obvious, though. Some were subtle, subtle enough to escape Rhaena's notice. Subtle enough to cling, matching to what Grawnya had already wrought, with Rhaena Olwak all unaware.
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Re: Treadwell's not the Only Glutton

Postby Glenn » Sun May 26, 2013 8:44 am

Monsters created monsters. That was the way of Myrken Wood. Burnie's Myrken was different in part. He meant for the younger generation to be spared the sins of their elders. This had been a blow. "You're no worse than me? No, that's not what I said, now is it?" He wasn't running, just walking quickly. He'd pointed his sword one way and then the next. "I said that we're worse. This is my place. This is my home. This is my Myrken. We don't need your magic to rule. We don't need your magic to survive or strive. This is Myrken Wood."

Many of the Constables had been seized by the trees but two remained in front of Grawnya and they moved to block her path now even as Burnie lunged forward, swinging not with the blade of the sword but with the hilt, aiming to crash it against her inhuman temple. "My stories rule here."
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Re: Treadwell's not the Only Glutton

Postby Dulcie » Sun May 26, 2013 9:05 am

She dodged this way and that way to try to get away from the constables, not wasting her time on words when she had a witch in her head and men to escape from. She swung her walking stick out at the men in a futile effort to get them to back off, only to have Glenn swinging his sword in her direction.

For one moment, one very brief moment he'd see a look of fear in her eyes and then he struck, the hilt of the sword slamming into her temple. The force of the blow threw her back to the ground, but with a quick shake of her head she was quickly recovered, a reminder that though she looked it she was truly not of the human realm.

Her walking stick glowed then, and a blurry sort of aura seemed to form about her for a few seconds, that restrictive dress shifting into a pair of leather pants and a green corset. She winked at Glenn then and was up and running once more, faster now that she didn't have the dress to deal with.
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Re: Treadwell's not the Only Glutton

Postby Glenn » Sun May 26, 2013 9:23 am

Glenn sighed. It had been a very, very long time since he'd run. "Constables?" One word, said firmly, loudly. There were responses but they were further away from her than he was. Fine. The Governor started to pursue. At least she was fetching now. She was making sport of it and he would have been intrigued after so long thinking her an old crone were it not for the affront she'd made. He still trained every day. That sword was not for show and a brain was not all he possessed. She had pants. Lovely. He had a cold fury growing hotter by the moment. Once upon a time, his soul had been severed within his body. Years later, it was healing and that made the emotion come through giving power to his limbs and drive to the rest of him.

"What I hate the most," Breath for talking was never an issue for Burnie. "Is that you're terrible at your craft. That line. My strike. Everything at once, everything down to how I walked. It was all a perfect end to the story but then you had to get," with a grunt he lunged at her, meaning to tackle her down. "up. And you call yourself a story teller."
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Re: Treadwell's not the Only Glutton

Postby Dulcie » Sun May 26, 2013 9:27 am

She ran as if her life depended upon it, no creak and ache in those ancient limbs. She went crashing through brush and between trees, trying to weave her way away from him, and to lead him closer to the reaching arms of the trees that still groped for something. Of course it was no use however. Months spent in an old woman's form was nothing like years of training. Glenn tackled her to the ground and she grunted and tried to twist herself around so that she could try to push him off of her.

"I never called myself a Story teller. I never called myself anything." She pointed out, an arm escaping from his grip then and she'd try to take the heel of her hand and smash it up into his nose. You didn't live for such a long time without learning a trick or two.
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Re: Treadwell's not the Only Glutton

Postby Glenn » Sun May 26, 2013 9:36 am

For all she said she could do for Glenn Burnie, she didn't know him well at all. Maybe she could have found a way out of his grasp, maybe she could have made it to her salvation towards the cave. Maybe she could have done a lot of stuff. What she did instead was interest him. "You didn't, did you." Burnie slammed his head down and in, ducking under the palm strike to press his shoulder hard into her chest. If she hadn't found some way to avoid it (and he was making sure to position his groin just so she couldn't knee it, having been in this sort of position once or twice in his teenage years), his cheek would likely be brushed up against hers.

"Never your story. Never any of you. Is it part of the magic?" His mind was bursting now. He would never, ever let her go until he had his answers. He pressed on, his voice an intense whisper. "Or are you just afraid. Have you lived so long in fiction that you've lost sight of who you are?"
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Re: Treadwell's not the Only Glutton

Postby Jirai » Sun May 26, 2013 9:50 am

She couldn't do anything more than she was already doing. If she tried, she risked losing her grip on the storyteller's magic and that would be most unfortunate. Besides, Glenn Burnie could handle the rest. Still...

"Darling, this is hardly the place for an interrogation."

They'd been running and were nowhere near Rhaena anymore, but that did not matter. He would hear her words anyway.
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Re: Treadwell's not the Only Glutton

Postby Dulcie » Mon May 27, 2013 12:54 am

She yelled and snarled at him in frustration as he avoided the smash of her palm against his face. His head forced her shoulder down and her fingers would try to claw their way back towards him, trying to get close enough that she could get a grip on a lock of hair that she could tug on. As it was, she was still too far away to accomplish such a task with any sort of ease.

He hissed his words in her ear and she squirmed, trying to move her head away from his, the closeness of the Governor more than a little annoying.

"As if I would tell you anything. It would do me no favors." She snarled back at him, her eyes shifting away from him for a moment then, looking for something nearby.
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Re: Treadwell's not the Only Glutton

Postby Glenn » Mon May 27, 2013 1:25 am

Glenn had a certain way of doing things. She'd already made him run. That was annoying on some level, especially given his words as he had smacked her across the head, but it was also perhaps a nice little surprise. It got the blood flowing as it hadn't in some time. Now, though, he was in the midst of breaking her down, of cutting out her underpinnings and ending her ability to fight, all the while learning whatever he could about her. He'd done it to Bromn and Galacia not that long ago. He'd done it to countless others before. That's what he did, psychological warfare.

And his bethrothed did not seem to find it appropriate here and now. "It might have saved you some pain." The governor sounded more than a little put out, even homicidal. There was an iron dagger on his body. With beings like Pantha and yes, even Catch, lurking about, one always ought to be prepared. The wink had been telling, full of mischief and whimsy even in the face of potential consequence. Somehow he had a feeling it could do quite a bit of damage. Still, he was a man of control and restraint and he would show those things now, holding her down carefully, giving her as little to use as possible, as he waited for the remaining Constables to arrive with their chains. His annoyance was tangible as a physical force steeling his body upon her.
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