It

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Postby catch » Wed Dec 07, 2011 4:32 am

There was the musty smell, not entirely held back by the cheer of candles, the smell of cakes, the opressive feeling of Underground that was an animal sense, an animal meant for open air and flowering fields, or the cathedral-shadow of towering trees. He was uneasy, and yet he hid it, and hid it well, even with the drip of something foul, coming from his own ears.

For a long, moment, he sat in shock, the parrot watching him, and he watching the parrot. He had never seen such a bird, a brilliant bird of red and iridescent green, a bird that could talk, exactly like the ones in his dreams. His scarred fingers, in hesitation, reached out to undo the clasps that bound the parrot into his cage. It made him sad, seeing him locked in there, wings bound to his sides.

"I c-c-can't g-get it open," is what Catch says to Glenn Burnie, and then his cheeks flush, his mismatched eyes dropping uncomfortably. "Uhm. Th-th-thank you, he's... he's lovely." Catch's rough, clumsy fingers cannot pull him free, and a sudden, frantic explosion of panic sends his fist banging noisily into the cage, and he thrusts the heavy thing towards the mapmaker, his ruined brows shadowing his eyes, his face hard.

"Let him out, now!"
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Rhaena

Postby Jirai » Wed Dec 07, 2011 3:19 pm

"Lovely!" Squawked the parrot, head cocking to one side, looking directly at Catch.

"We don't want him to fly around inside, Catch. He might hurt himself. Best wait until we are outside again, and then I will help you." Rhaena was calm, soothing, a manner that was perhaps enhanced by her skills. She reaches out to take the cage, aiming to set it aside. "You don't want him to get hurt, do you? Come now and sit here with me, and we can see what is behind the curtain." The veiled woman gestured gracefully to the comfortable chairs already aimed at the curtained off area. "And then," she added in a conspiratorial whisper, "We'll have cake!"
And though scary is exciting
Nice is different than good.
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Postby Glenn » Thu Dec 08, 2011 4:06 am

"If you'd REALLY like, Catch, we can see if the parrot would want some cake when it's time to eat it." He matched Rhaena's tone fairly well, unnervingly so, perhaps, though the madman was unnerved by everything else at the moment. That didn't seem to bother Glenn Burnie one bit. A distracted Catch was exactly the sort of Catch they needed for the veiled woman to do her work. "Now if you'll excuse me for a moment." He left the more than capable Miss Olwak in charge of the situation in order to pop his head back behind the curtain.

"You're sure you can handle this?" It wasn't that Glenn doubted his two subordinates, it's just that their contribution to the plan seemed a little farfetched and he wasn't at all convinced after seeing an earlier draft of the execution. The two staff members felt the brunt of his surprisingly exasperated gaze. It was usually far more.. unflinching.

Maxwell, the bespectacled young man from the rich Heath-ian family, was something of a go-getter, a toady, a social climber with an utter lack of social skills. Burnie appreciated that he was a younger son from a beleaguered province, that he had chosen Myrken over a life in some monastery or as a nameless bureaucrat in the royal offices. The pseudo-governor could sympathize with those things, given his own background. Maxwell was overambitious and here in Myrken his ideas were listened to and his name was known, by his superior at least.

Mary, on the other hand, was pure Myrken: a particularly precocious farmgirl, she had none of Maxwell's tutor-derived lessons or anything of the sort. Instead, she was lucky enough to be graced with a stubborn father who had taught her to read and a general sense that she didn't want to just get married off to some farmboy and spawn a bunch of squealing brats like everyone else. Early on in the creation of his assemblage, Glenn realized that he couldn't recruit everyone from learned backgrounds as he did Maxwell. Some of his new staff would have to be taken from inside Myrken, and really, that's how he preferred it anyway, a homegrown enterprise. Thankfully, he knew the farm families, merchants and tradesmen, and even the urchins, better than anyone in his position should have. He attended barn dances with Rhaena Olwak over the years and kept his eyes and ears open. He kept note of those with talent and potential, those that could be molded, that could be pulled out the dead-end circle of their existence, and when the time came, he plucked them away, providing them both training and purpose.

"Of course, Mister Burnie." Maxwell spoke demonstrably in his slightly nasally voice. "I spent two days interviewing various performers and taking careful notes of the tropes and story elements used in the most successful and enduring of these..."

Mary broke in, her wild strawberry blonde hair swishing this way and that as she shook her head. "I had three little brothers.. though they were a bit more.. boyish. Still, we're going to be FINE, Glenn!" The familiarity in her voice was born out of desperation. How better to show that she fit in than to proclaim it loud and brazenly to the entire world.

"Alright, you best be. I saw your script, Mary and..." At that, he just shook his head. For a man immune to second thoughts, they were starting to creep in now. When he finally continued, his tone was light but stern as well. "Remember, this is a controlled environment, but something could still go very wrong, and the two of you are going to be right in the midst of the danger. Now, Rhaena will be doing most of the heavy lifting, but if he lashes out, it'll likely be at you, not at her."

Maxwell seemed more than a little nervous but put on his best, bravest face (which wasn't really that brave), and then got talked over by Mary anyway. "We know the risks. They're worth it. We've spent MONTHS figuring out Catch. If he goes crazy-nutso here, it'll be bad for us, sure, but..."

Desperate to get some credit for any potentially meaningful notion in this conversation, Maxwell cut her off, returning the favor from a few moments before. "As you said, Mister Burnie, this is a controlled environment. The potential damage to us, here and now, is minimal relative to the estimated devastation possible if.."

Here the once-mapmaker cut them both off with an idle wave of his hand. "A simple 'Yes' would have sufficed. But thank you, both of you, for volunteering this.. idea and offering to execute it. If we're all set then..." A bit of final, uncharacteristic hesitation as Burnie looked at the scene before him. "Alright. Let's begin."

Emerging from behind the curtain, Glenn gave the madman an honest, if slightly strained, smile. "I do hope you're ready Catch." At this point, as Rhaena worked upon his fractured mind, it was important to keep him stimulated and distracted, and what could be more distracting than this.
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Postby Maxwell » Thu Dec 08, 2011 5:15 am

As Glenn drew to the side, he pulled back the curtain that had been obscuring a part of the chamber. With it out of the way, a table draped by a smaller curtain was revealed, upon it, a rather nicely made stage. Two hand puppets, maneuvered from below, pranced about. One was a quite ornately made Rhaena puppet, a veiled girl with little tiny bells. The other was an orange tabby, a kitten. The kitten began to speak in a slightly nasally but ultimately silly voice. "This play is entitled "The Dangers, Habits, and Proclivities of the Uncommon Drow Matron and ...ow!" A small bang from under the table led to the Veiled Girl puppet shaking her head and speaking in an excited voice, full of Myrken accents. "Silly kitty! The name of this play is... The Very Happy Unicorn!" The puppets sank back down behind the table in preparation for the start of the show.

Act 1.

A pleasant meadow scene was lifted up to frame the stage, painted with grass and rolling meadows in the background. Up popped a very handsome looking unicorn hand puppet obviously being puppeteered by the male voice from before, with a slightly undertone of flustered reticence. The unicorn puppet 'pranced' this way and that, merrily.

Unicorn: Tra. La. La. I am a happy unicorn. I like hats and chopping wood. I am new to this land and would like to call it home.

Up popped the Kitty, voiced, just like the Unicorn, by the nasally male voice, the one who made the pained noise at the start of the show. It maneuvered back and forth across the stage as well.

Kitty: Why, hello Unicorn! You look like a very happy unicorn. I hope we shall be best friends! Are you new to our home, MYRKEN WOOD, a province in Trae Kelsa, which is part of the A...ow!"

Another muffled crash emanated from beneath the table, just like before, causing Glenn to groan noticeably from the other side of the room. This was followed by far too loud whisper of a female voice lecturing briefly but firmly about ad-libbing and pedagogy, with that last word spoken just a bit too proudly for it to be a whisper. Any Myrkenite would be proud to know it and would flaunt such a fact. After a long, uncomfortable moment the unicorn responded.

Unicorn: Oh yes, I would very much love to be friends. I love friendship almost as much as painting fences and babies!

Kitty: Hurray!

Unicorn: Hurray!

To punctuate this happy moment, the Kitty and Unicorn puppets, both 'played' by the male voice beneath the stage began to hug and dance clumsily in unison across the stage. Suddenly, a second voice was heard, a deep voice, the deepest the female could muster. It was 'singing' a song that went rather like:

Ally: MMPH MMPH, NOM NOM NOM NOM, MMPH MMPH, NOM NOM NOM.

From below emerged a brightly dressed and truly over-sized Treadwellian hand puppet. It continued to sing the song, dancing about and threatening to knock over bits of scenery. The Unicorn and Kitty were VERY distracted by it, so much so they didn't notice the emergence of fourth puppet, this one black as night and with pointy elf ears. This puppet was a little limp, however, for the song and dance performed by the Tubbite upon the female puppeteer's left hand seemed to take up far too much of her attention to allow proper focus for the drow sitting upon her right hand.

Unicorn: Oh no! Whatever is that?

Kitty: Never fear. That's only the harmless judge, Ally Rotund. He eats things ALL day and it's a good thing too, because if he didn't, Myrken Wood would be far too full of things!

Unicorn: Will he eat me too, though?!

Kitty: Of course not! The only person that eats others around here is.... Faeryl the Wicked! She gobbles up their souls. You have nothing to ..... to..... to.....

The voice trailed off, having given the proper cue. Meanwhile, Ally Rotund was still dancing his dramatic dance and singing his quite loud song. This seemingly endless performance went on for a few endlessly long seconds before being punctuated by more banging from under the table, though not nearly as violent as earlier. Quickly thereafter, Faeryl the Wicked came to life, snatching the Kitty from behind, both slipping beneath the stage together. As Ally Rotund started dancing away, the Unicorn was left alone.

That sad solitude was fleeting for after a few short seconds of the unicorn looking about in distress, Faeryl the Wicked popped back up. When she spoke it was in a dramatic, flowery, evil voice, full of that now familiar Myrken accent and over the top laughter. It was overacting at its finest.

Unicorn: Kitty! Kitty! Where are you Ki...ahhh! Who are you?

Faeryl: I am Faeryl the Wicked. Bwa ha ha ha. Your friend...THE KITTY!... has decided to live with me in my hole in the ground. Come visit him tomorrow. I want to have both of you... for lunch! Bwa ha ha ha.

After stooging a bit more for the 'audience,' the Faeryl puppet dropped down and a hand reached up to close the curtain once again.

Act 2

It was now nighttime, which was basically the old set except for everything was painted a little darker and there was a moon hanging precariously from the top of the table-top stage. The unicorn was prancing about much more forlornly than before. Nearby rose the veiled girl puppet from the opening of the show. When she spoke it was with a affectated 'princess' voice laden with that unfortunate Myrken accent.

Unicorn: Oh hello. I am the Very Happy Unicorn, though I am not so happy now.

Veiled Maiden: And I am the Veiled Maiden..... It is a LOVELY night. Let us be friends! Why is it that you are unhappy?

Unicorn: My friend has gone to live with Faeryl the Wicked, and it will not be until TOMORROW that i get to see him.

Veiled Maiden: Oh NO! Faeryl the Wicked. That is very bad indeed.

Unicorn: She was very nice and invited me to her hole in the ground! She invited me for lunch, and tea. Well, she didn't SAY tea exactly, but it's in her record that she's quite fond of absolutely bizarre tea parties, which unlike euphemisms commonly.. ow!

Once again there was an unpleasant and alarming noise from beneath the table, a violent bang and some shuffling. Still, things recovered and shortly thereafter, Ally Rotund popped up again, this time, without the song from before. Instead, now and again, the male voice would say a little MMPH, or an "Indubitably" without any of the enthusiasm from the Tubbian's previous appearance.

Unicorn: Ahem. That is .. just lunch. She wanted me to lunch.

Veiled Maiden: Oh look, Very Happy Unicorn, by saying lunch, you made Ally Rotund appear. He's a harmless old sort. Who SANG A SONG before. I don't hear a song! .... ... ... oh fine. Well, we should PROBABLY go TOGETHER to see Faeryl the Wicked, because I don't think you can trust her, Very Happy Unicorn.

Unicorn: Oh, I think it will be just fine! But if you want to come, that is wonderful! We'll all be friends together. Let us go!

The hand currently inside the Ally Rotund puppet was the one that reached for the curtain, creating, momentarily, the unsettling sensation of three-dimensions, followed thereafter by the small yelp created specifically by some pour soul stricken by a pointy Myrken farmgirl elbow to the sternum.

Act 3

It was time for another quick scenery change, as the backgrounds were switched behind the makeshift curtain. When it was pushed to the side, a cave setting was unveiled.

Up popped Faeryl the Wicked, the Veiled Maiden, and the Very Happy Unicorn.

Unicorn: We're here. Where's Kitty?

Faeryl: You've come! Bwa ha ha ha! I've enslaved Kitty! He's digging a hole, the hole I'll put your bones in after I eat your body and soul! Bwa ha ha ha! This is a trap!

Veiled Maiden: I told you! The Drow Matron is the most evil woman there ever was!

Faeryl: Get them Lithy!

Suddenly, Faeryl the Wicked dropped down and a grey-blue puppet with tentacles for a face burst up from below the table. The nasally voice attached to the hand piloting it did his best to make formidable scary shrieks but the puppet really was rather cute. despite it all. It moved across the 'stage' chasing the Veiled Maiden and the Very Happy Unicorn back and forth.

Veiled Maiden: Ahhhh!

Illithid: Nrrrrrggghhh!!!

But then, right when they were almost cornered, Ally Rotund danced onto the scene this time with the deep, accented female voice singing his trademark song loud and proud.

Ally: Mmmph Mmmph Nom Nom Nom! Octopus! My very most favorite! Nom Nom Mmmph Mmmph!

The Illithid puppet tried to escape to stage left, but soon Ally Rotund was upon it, and both sank below the table together. After a moment of shuffling, Faeryl the Wicked popped back up, speaking in her overdramatic evil tones.

Faeryl: Nooo! Lithy! It doesn't matter though! The pit is almost ready and your bones will spend all eternity there... after I eat you! Bwa ha ha!

Faeryl the Wicked gestured to the 'pit,' being the very edge of the stage, dramatically with her 'hands.' Suddenly and without warning, Kitty leapt up out of the pit, and pushed dread fae in.

Faeryl: How! Noooooooooooooo!

Kitty: With the Illithid gone, there was no one to make me work! I got free and now we did what we should do to all drow!

Unicorn: Oh! I know! We should put Drow in holes!

Veiled Maiden: Oh Very Happy Unicorn, you're so smart! And Kitty, you're so brave! Now that Faeryl the Wicked is gone into the hole, we'll be the best of friends forever.

The three puppets danced around a bit, before Ally Rotund came back up to join them. They were in the midst of taking their hand puppet bows when Burnie burst forth to shut the curtain. With a markedly sheepish expression, he looked to Rhaena and Catch. The bird, the cake, the... performance, had all been to distract him while she did her work. Catch had done an amazing job of keeping the secret of Faeryl from Glenn, but it had finally emerged, and immediate action had become necessary.
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Postby catch » Thu Dec 08, 2011 6:51 am

Their assurances, their platitudes, did little to sooth Catch's rising fear. What if the parrot was to die, locked away in the too-pretty cage? And it was human as well. It spoke, both in the strange beast-movement, of head cants and ruffled feathers, twitching toes and fluttering tail, and in a human tongue. Like Miss Drache. Yes, it was lovely, but the situation was taken from his hands, as Lady Rhaena's gentle hands set the cage away from him. Catch almost rose, in protest, his face thunderous, but a little voice braved the lightning-strikes of thoughts in his mind, soothed Wait. Wait and see the show. They would let him go, with cake, and Catch would keep them from locking him away again. It was a good plan, but as Catch sat again, his entire demeanor had gone sullen. He refused to look at Rhaena, at Ser Glenn, and the parrot, as they each readied themselves. He looked to the ceiling of the little hole, eyes flickering over something he could not see, his arms hugging his knapsack to his chest, indifferent, angry, and let them see it.

At least, until the puppet show began. Planned, plotted, and minds far smarter than he, he was too enchanted by the visuals to continue his rightful punishment of Ser Glenn and Lady Rhaena, his silent protest at having his parrot locked away. Too delighted by puppet movements. They were real. To his broken mind, they were living things, and the first gasp of enjoyment never faded from his lips. He did not follow the story as well as they may have hoped, but all the important, the frightening, the happy occasions, these he grasped in his own, childish way.

She did not invade, like Cloud-hair did. She came, gently, to that broken mind, a mind she had glimpsed when Catch had broken down all those walls, and had built her a hand from nothing and metal. It was not a welcoming place, but it did not spasm, did not hurt him. It felt strange, but what was strange compared to the puppet's show? She would see them, story-book characters, the living things that crowded in his head; Rowsdower Cat-tails and his fearsome necklace of tails, the weasel Ser Suede, with sparkling eye and twitching nose, the shadow of Jirai slipping, keeping pace, just under his paws as the tailor-beast fled. And there would be the two she sought.

The Fat Man was hard at work in his factory, a decript butcher's shop, where sunlight streamed dusty down shafts of clotted, angry flies, the brick walls dark and covered in soot and grime. He wielded his chopper, full of blood both fresh and old, and blood that had only grown gummy in the fetid air. Each blow was, eerily, like Catch, working his axe at the wood, and the unseen victims screamed and writhed as each little bit was chopped away. The Fat Man threw the still-howling thing, carelessly, into a writhing, mountainous pile of meat-things, people that Catch had known, knew, from the town, from the Dagger.

And Faeryl? Would it be surprising if Catch feared her, as well? But it was a fear tempered by awe, tempered by a strange, twisted love. He feared drow, already. He found them unbearable. But he could not look away, the same with any, terrible beast he has encountered. He knew them wicked. He knew them terrible. But in the same, twisted thought, he admired them, found them marvelous to see, to watch, and the Matron was, simply, the perfected idea. He would dance with the drow, but at the height of senses, at the final spin, he would kill them all...

Did Rhaena see when the Fat Man turned to her? When a smile came to his gore-spattered lips?


It happened when the Illithid came.

Catch held his knuckles to his lips, his eyes wide and devouring as Treadwell himself, held completely in the thrall of the play. He thought it was awful, the way the Faeryl-thing had tricked the Happy Unicorn, and had taken the little Prince away. He thought it equally awful that Treadwell must find the need to ruin the story, though he was much, much smaller than Catch remembered him being. Faeryl called for her friend, and it was real, there, terrible. It was a squid. The Baie was a squid, too. Catch uttered a scream of pure terror, the gentle, playful puppet lashing with it's tentacles, the cloth slick with blood and slime.

Rage built in his mind, but it was locked away from the fear, a separate consciousness that Catch had always called the Wolf, and was anything but. How dare she? Rhaena, given such a gift, and tampering now with the carefully constructed memories, the things It had made to guide Catch along this path? It could not undo what Rhaena had accomplished. Indeed, she and the play had accomplished much, for Catch could view Faeryl now with horror, his confidence that she would not hurt him shattered to pieces. She was not a loathsome thing, but frightening all the same. And it was Rhaena's doing, Glenn's doing.

Cloud-hair is here Cloud-hair is here, hurting will come come come come


His fright at the Illithid-puppet turned to pain, blinding pain, and Cloud-hair was hurting him! Catch's body became as rigid as a corpse's, his frightened eyes unfocused, limbs spasmed against his knapsack. Inside, the spider wailed but once, before it was crushed between hard, unforgiving books, their pages filled with dry, beautiful flowers. Things moved, just under Catch's skin, wild lights that lashed and writhed, because he could not.

He wished, his last, conscious thought, that he had gotten his axe, like Iron Shoes had told him.

The Light erupted from his ruined head, held tempered only by the basement's ceiling, and could have pierced right through, passing wood and stone to break free, into the moon. They swept out to defend him, the writhing, skin-held tentacles, a multitude lashing out at the terrible Baie-squid puppet, the others striking for Rhaena, the Cloud-hair-like presence that his pain-fogged mind took for the real Zilliah.
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Postby Maxwell » Thu Dec 08, 2011 10:18 am

Many hours earlier:

Maxwell was distraught. He understood the need of working with some of the local color while in Myrken but this girl was insufferable. She was all enthusiasm and hair and he was surprised she didn't walk around with a reed in her mouth and herd pigs around wherever she went. Worst of all, there was no arguing with her. "I'm telling you, Mary. Catch has responded poorly to octopus imagery in the past. An Illithid, while a striking and accurate symbol of the horror and wretchedness of the Drow, would very likely drive him to distress."

The farmgirl-turned-researcher just looked at her bespectacled comrade with an annoyed huff. "We made an Illithid puppet. The eminent and honorable Ally Rotund is going to devour it, freeing the Kitty to stuff Faeryl the Wicked down the hole. It's the only way the story works, AND, more than that, it's a WONDERFUL puppet. It's very lifelike."

"What?!" Maxwell's eyes almost burst out from behind the spectacles. "When have you seen an illithid! How would you even know if it was lifelike or not?" The very idea was preposterous. Why did he have to be paired up with her? She was one of the few researchers with the knitting skill necessary to handle this but she had taken over the script as well and inserted strange creatures and changed Councilor Treadwell's name (and given him an insipid song)! What had been a thoughtful dissertation on the dangerous of associating with a drow was now an utter farce.

Mary crossed her arms petulantly. "I read the same books you did. There are dozens of accounts."

"And most of them are gibberish! Their BRAINS have been eaten." He turned his nose up at her. "You know, I'm beginning to think that you HAVE encountered an Illithid. Maybe THREE."

She scrunched her nose at him, using one hand to get the wild mop of hair out of her face, though whether or not it was to let Maxwell see the scrunch was anyone's guess. The other hand was in the Illithid handp "Yeah? Well, fine. Then I know best, and we're keeping it in and Ally Rotund is going to eat it, and that's final."

Hours later, as the light exploded outwards and tentacles swarmed about, Mary was finally beginning to see Maxwell's point of view. It was a real breakthrough for her. Unfortunately, it might be her last.... and anyway, no matter what ANYONE said, it was still a very lifelike puppet!
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Rhaena

Postby Jirai » Thu Dec 08, 2011 10:50 am

For all that Rhaena and Kals Olwak looked alike (once one got past their veils, at least) there were some marked differences between the two siblings. The obvious one was size. While Kals was built like a barrel, Rhaena was much more slender. The less obvious way, though, was in how they employed their magic. With Kals, it was very much like being whacked over the head with a log - strong and completely lacking in subtlety. Rhaena was just the opposite. Not as strong as her brother, but she made up for that with more subtle, gentler uses of her magic.

This task was a perfect fit for Rhaena Olwak.

With a bit of luck, her interference would go completely unnoticed. Catch was a wild card though, and she couldn't rely on that happening. She would have to be extra cautious. And with that thought, bronze eyes lost their focus, the only outward sign of what the veiled woman was about.

Delicately, Rhaena Olwak set about inserting herself into Catch's mind. This was the first step and it was carefully, so carefully done, gently done, timed to use the puppet show (of which she was only peripherally aware) as a distraction. The last thing Rhaena wanted was to upset Catch. So the veiled woman slipped into the addled man's mind, and what a mind it was. She had been scarcely conscious of it the last time, but Catch's mind was fascinating, really, and had she nothing to do and no care for the man himself she might simply investigate and see what it held. But neither of those things were true - she had a task to do here and if she did not have this task that had been deemed vitally necessary, she would not be here. Whatever some people believed.

The next step would be the most risky. The concept was simple - find all of the images of the Fat Man that Catch's mind held and then replace them with an image of Faeryl (and Faeryl, as seen by Rhaena, was quite terrifying really). In practice, though, the task was difficult, first in finding the images and second in not calling them to Catch's attention. It required every last bit of Rhaena's attention, to the point that she was unaware of any externals. There was nothing but the task she was working on. And it WAS working, see? That thought had the veiled woman relaxing slightly... and that was when hell broke loose.

Rhaena did not see the illithid puppet. She did not see Catch's spasm. She did not see the Light and tentacles errupt from the addled man. She did not see, but she -felt- Catch's terror, the pain which she instinctively tried to ease until the pain became her own as the tentacles lashed into her body, sending the veiled woman flying out of her chair to land heavily on the floor.
And though scary is exciting
Nice is different than good.
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Postby Glenn » Thu Dec 08, 2011 3:41 pm

Glenn Burnie saw EVERYTHING. He was closer to Maxwell and Mary, but Rhaena was in direct danger. He had warned them. He had even showing some hesitation on the illithid puppet. This was exactly why he couldn't ever properly delegate, not when it came to magical beings. Not yet at least. They just hadn't encountered such things in person. You couldn't learn everything from a book. He knew that better than most.

So there it was, a split second decision. Glenn Burnie could rush to Rhaena Olwak's side, Rhaena who had some power to protect herself but that was also the love of his life, or he could try to knock Maxwell and Mary, two lambs in the slaughter, out of the way of the incoming storm of light and tentacles.

There he was, once again, his choice, his very freedom impeded by the oppression of magical force. Something flashed in Glenn Burnie's eyes and he made his decision. Instead of running to either Rhaena or the puppeteers, he charged forward right at Catch, trying to propel his own body into the larger man, trying to draw the full attention of both light and tentacles both.
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Postby catch » Thu Dec 08, 2011 3:55 pm

Such bravery. It was lost in Catch, who would have, perhaps, understood the sort of love that drove one to do as Glenn Burnie did. He was beyond thought, and the silver spilled from his eyes, from his nostrils, thick fog roiling between his teeth with each, animal-panted breath. Every inch of him was a wounded hawk, a terrified star-child, alone and disabled but knowing it had some sort of desperate, vicious way to strike back at their oppressors. That beautiful cake was silenced of it's chittering, upturned by power that thrust the table away, and those almost-liquid, not-quite solid masses of Everycolor and Nocolor turned, almost lovingly, back on themselves, to the man that had thrown himself at Catch.

Tennant had seen a glimpse, and Lamai had taken the full brunt of such an assault. But that light, that color, it dove into Glenn Burnie, a shock of heaven's split lightning, nose and mouth and eyes. It poured itself into Glenn, all-Glory, the drink made from stars meant to fill him. It could not make something from nothing. Catch had needed a strip of metal to make Rhaena's hand. But it tried. It poured and poured, and what would become of it, first? Would that empty place finally fill, or will Catch's powers run dry?
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Rhaena

Postby Jirai » Fri Dec 09, 2011 8:53 am

The bruising impact with the ground knocked the woman's breath from her body and, perhaps more importantly, shattered the link she had been maintaining with the madman's mind. The combined shocks left Rhaena lying on the ground, veil askew, unable to move for several moments. But even though bronze eyes were not turned towards Catch, she still knew what was going on - how could she not, with the link between her mind and Glenn's? The moment she regained any control of her body she was trying to thrust herself back to her feet but amidst a tangle of skirts and veils managed only to make it to her knees, arms wrapped tightly around her ribs.

"..Get back," she managed to gasp out towards Mary and Maxwell, wanting the two as far out of the mess as possible. All the while the Light poured into Glenn Burnie. Into him, and through him into Rhaena as well, a risk that someone (Lamai, perhaps) had warned the pair about long, long ago.
And though scary is exciting
Nice is different than good.
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Postby Glenn » Fri Dec 09, 2011 4:02 pm

There it was, once again. Magic. Oppressive. Unstoppable. Never-failing magic. The bane of Glenn Burnie's endlessly damned existence. He would stand against it again and again and again, but in the end? It would swat him down. It would swat him down and he'd get back up to be swatted down once more. The story of his life.

This magic, of course, was different than most, no matter what he FELT about it. It was meant to heal him, to restore him. It was power over precision, but perhaps sheer power would be enough to reattach the once-mapmaker's sundered soul.

Except for one little problem. Glenn Burnie's soul had been encased, protected, sealed off by a very well-meaning Lamai al'Nerun. She had been the one to properly diagnose his 'condition.' Her trained, experience, professional response had been to ensure the protection of Glenn's dislodged spirit, a stalling method until she could find a cleric of some sort to properly heal him.

The healing force within him now would thus build a bridge, a rope, a tether, even a more complex system of such connective strands, but it would go ultimately nowhere. It would hit a protective wall, and push against it, try to burst through. In the midst of this energy would bounce here and there, through the link towards Rhaena, through the link back towards Catch.

The torrent of light and magic would continue to pummel the shielded soul, until slowly, finally, the smallest puncture would form, the smallest strand connecting back to Glenn Burnie, a pinprick connecting body and the still mostly encased soul. It was enough for him to feel the sort of pain he had not felt for well over a year.

Glenn had been walking forward, one step after the next towards Catch, even in the midst of the magic. It had been enough to allow Mary and Maxwell to turn their table into a makeshift shelter and drag it to the edge of the room, the Illithid puppet left behind alongside the others. He had gotten surprisingly close to Catch, through stubbornness and force of will alone, even as the energy washed through him and back through Rhaena and Catch through his link to the veiled woman. Now, however, with the pinprick in the shield and the healed bridge, as tiny as it was, pain swept over him and he dropped to his knees with a scream.
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Postby catch » Fri Dec 09, 2011 4:34 pm

He, the Lord in his Throne. What other title, what name, was his? Catch was a moniker, a half-remembered gathering of words, dredged from a broken, starving mind, an event so long passed. They, nebulous, forgettable, mortal, so that they had gone, had been cast carelessly aside by the weighted number of years, [I]they, and not He, had called him a 'Grand Catch'. As if they held a mere loach, a stag, a one-horned mule.

He felt the pinprick shocks of magic bouncing against Him, against the walls, fattened sparks of multi-color that struck the brick with such force that they left ozone and char in their wake. They were nothing. They were of Him, and they would return to Him. There were nebulous tentacles of Rhaena in His mind, She Whose Walls He Tore, for He was beyond names. He felt He of Black and Maggots, Thrice-Built Walls, domed and protected. That those shields held was an amusement, and not a frustration; such was His power that He did not even taste of it, until that single hole be pierced.

Sun! Sun-Laughter, Song Struck, Shattered and Broken, Wing-Healed! She tasted of Tears Shed Bitterly, and so, too, did her shield weep. He jerked. He twisted, before the Walls could crumble, spinning and yearning - [/I]

It was a spider's leg against his cheek. That was his first feeling, his first, conscious thought, his brain swimming in desperation through thick, lurid, turgid water, trying to break the lozenged surface that held the promise of light, of air. Like smoke, the tendrils vanished from their minds, from the ruins the party had become. The lights flickered, protested, and were cast down, spun away into webs, tucked away as lovingly as a treasured quilt. His nostrils were full of blood, and it came from his mouth, too, and Catch snorted and choked, breath heaving as he struggled freely for air, ignorant of the smashed cake, of the hurt Burnie and Rhaena, the likely-frightened Mary and Maxwell. The confusion of the parrot, who had been left strangely untouched, and squawked and rattled in it's cage. He had but one comfort; his spider, slipped from the bonds of book and satchel and Death, squatting now on his shoulder like a baleful specter, fur turned from dusky-brown to pitch black, and twitching eyes as pale as moons.
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Rhaena

Postby Jirai » Sat Dec 10, 2011 6:28 am

It went through her. The light, Burnie's pain. It was enough, more than enough to snap the link she had been holding to Catch, everything else vanishing in the urgent need to make it to Glenn's side and as Catch came back to himself, that was where she would be, arms wrapped protectively around the once-mapmaker. Catch moved and drew her attention, and her scaled face (for the veil had long since been lost in the chaos) fell into sadness rather than fear.

"Oh... that poor spider!"
And though scary is exciting
Nice is different than good.
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Postby Maxwell » Sun Dec 11, 2011 12:55 pm

It was not until Rhaena's voice broke the claustrophobic, earthen silence that Mary finally peeked her head up over their makeshift table shield. Her eyes were all but bugging out of her head and the best word to describe the rest of her face would be 'gawk.' Maxwell was still compressed into a little ball, not yet ready to deal with a world full of unnerving light and unnatural tendrils. Mary examined the wreckage and let out an awed whistle. "I told you that we shouldn't have used the illithid puppet, Maxwell." She said quietly, giving him a little kick as she did.

That was enough to bring Maxwell out of his terrified stupor. He rose to his knees, looking up at her as if she was a madwoman. "You... I... But... ARGH!" He was exasperated, though when she extended her hand to help him up, he took it and was soon on his feet beside her, looking over the aftereffects of their attempt. "Mister Burnie? We need to get him to the Remedium." In the last five years, those words have been said countless times, but they were just as valid here and now. Burnie was breathing, but he was definitely unconscious, the victim of some trauma or another.

Maxwell and Mary were both wary over Catch after what they witnessed. The parrot was given to him, out of the cage, and he was sent along his way, with some half-hearted demand that he cut more wood than usual as some sort of public service due to his various affronts. If the large man would be surprised that he had been under the Dagger all along, Mary and Maxwell would not be aware of it. They were too busy hefting Burnie up and out of the cellar and on towards the Remedium.
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The First Meeting of the Myrken Wood Resistance Movement

Postby Maxwell » Mon Jul 08, 2013 1:13 am

"Hello friends. Brave friends. Good friends. I am so proud of all of you. Welcome, welcome," Five chairs had been set up in the cellar of the Broken Dagger. Maxwell sat at the head the pentagon that they made, smiling out at them and their occupants, a small amount of spittle upon his lower lip. "I understand the danger that we're all facing in meeting like this as, I know, do you all. Therefore, with no further delay, let me call to order the first meeting of the Myrken Wood Secret Freedom Organization." He was still working out the name, knowing that his friends here would be patient. The right name was very important in a liberation movement. He'd read as such in a book once, he was sure.

After a long, meaningful pregnant pause, he continued. "For the sake of brevity, I'll do the introductions. I am of course, Maxwell, chairman of this gallant group! Mister Cinnabar Calomel, former governor, former High Constable, fine man of high standing and a close personal friend. Councilor Aloisius Treadwell, you're looking better, sir, after what Catch did to you. All patched up with your tentacles looking fine, and we are glad. Aloisius is our Councilor for Tax things," a wave of his hand to dismiss the exact detail. Titles weren't that important. "And another close, personal friend. Then my two fellow Inquistors, Miss Mary Ford, and Genny Tollesomething. Thank you for coming ladies." He looked over to Cinnabar's chair, conspiratorially and said softly. "Genny is very charming but a bit clumsy." Then, back to the chairs holding the ladies. "I must say that is a cunning disguise, Genny, that dark skin. Mary, you on the other hand are an embarrassment to the cause, wearing veils like that! One would think that you're a collaborator or have had your brains rattled. Whatever you have of them."

He would clap his hands, but softly. Haste was important but so was secrecy. "Now then, let us get to the heart of the matter. I will sum up the current situation and then go over our plans. So, the Governor is missing. Rhaena Olwak has been transforming people with her mind, including the Marshall, meaning the militia is now compromised. There has been built a large prison facility at Golben and corrupt courts have already arisen to send people there! Councilor Berdini is either transformed or willingly collaborating. The Inquisitory has been taken over by some slimy, southern lout, and finally, that odorous Catch has recovered his horn somehow and is rampaging willy-nilly around town."

He glanced around the room as if expecting questions. He smiled a crooked smile when there was none. "Excellent. What sharp minds we have here! Sharp indeed! Yes, yes, indeed. Well, then, I've drafted up plans of action for everyone, which i am sure you'll all find most clever and satisfactory. First off, we need to add a few more members to our merry group. Kals Olwak and his mate Kacela, Sylvius Duquesne, the creatures Endymion and Phlynn, and yes, do bear with me, but we'll need the Grand Catch as well! His power is exactly what we need welded to our cause! We'll split up to recruit them. Genny, with your disguise and his existing like for you Catch will be your responsibility. Mary, you have some rapport with the Phlynn. Aloisius, you shall see about this Endymion. Mister Cinnabar, you know Sylvius Duquesne, yes? And I will talk to Kals and Kacela. A fine group we'll be in the end, a veritable force for freedom and justice!"

Maxwell snorted in satisfaction. "Other things will come from there. We'll figure out where the Governor is, gather evidence against Rhaena as well as find ways to protect ourselves from her. Hopefully by bringing Catch into our noble conspiracy, the risk of him will be blunted and redirected. Myrken will be liberated and we, we my friends, will be the heroes!"

His stirring speech finished, he nodded to the assmbled group, wiping, momentarily, that lingering spittle from his face and rising to his feet. "To our tasks, my friends! To our tasks!" He stomped towards the stairs, not once looking back.

Were he to do so, he would see his 'friends' assembled in their chairs, just as he left them. Four puppets. In Mary's was the veiled girl, in Genny's was that of Faeryl. It was the Kitty for Calomel's chair, and in Aloisius'? None other than the crudely stitched up Illithid.

The Myrken Wood Indomitable Liberation Union.
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