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[h1][color=FireBrick] Samhain Intrigues [/color][/h1]
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[h2][color=FireBrick]-The Collector-[/color][/h2]
[h3][color=FireBrick]-Location: The Ruined Lands-[/color][/h3]

The Collector did not appear to have heard the kitsune's remarks. Then he spoke, his voice sounding like gravel being crushed beneath a boulder as his hands clasped before him. "You may herd them into separate groups if they do not move to stand to either side of the Hall, kitsune." For all the Collector was certainly not made of stone, he certainly seemed so. It was rumored by several of the fae that his heart was actually of stone. Locked deep within the ruined halls he called home. For it was here he always wandered, never leaving. Walking with that slow and steady step that sent mortal and lesser fae quivering into corners lest his shadow fall upon them. A wise thing to do, for even the Fair Yggdrasil would not meet his eyes fully. Their green eyes always slightly above or to the side. Never down, that would not do for Royalty. But never would the 'Lady-Queen' of the Seelie Court lock eyes with the ancient Fae.

No, that honor fell to one alone. It was one among many reasons some whispered the Fall King was far stronger than his odd counterpart. Though others argued that Yggdrasil's life giving tree made up for this slight weakness. That the prosperity of Summer and Spring was far greater than Fall and Winter which stood testament to Yggdrasil's greater power. It was a old argument for the long winter nights, scholarly towers and tavern corners. No one was truly sure of the answer any more.

But slowly the frost grew along the windows, the day turning slowly darker. As the wind whipped in whispers of laughter and taunts. A hound's bay carried on the breeze. Almost as if it taunted the terrified mortals. Already they were scared, and loath to move from their groups of safety. But those more resigned began to drift to one side of the ruined hall or the other. The Seelie or the UnSeelie. Several rushed the door in desperation, merely to be blasted back as wind grew to a howl. The Yggdrasil sat forward on their throne, their face keen on the darkening sky.

[color=ForestGreen] "Oh, Blessed are we." [/color]Her soft, yet wooden face (For the Fae Realm was filled with contradictions about such things) turned towards the kitsune as wind tugged his fur this way and that. [color=ForestGreen] "Kitsune, you said your Lord will not be attending? Did he say perhaps why he was not doing so? For it seems the Hunter of Souls rides the storms." [/color] The comment was not taken lightly as the Fae- greater and lesser- shifted uncomfortably on the balcony about the ruins. Several taking flight or melting away into the light or shadow as they sought a less precarious place to be. For all Fae knew that Yggdrasil was the grower, the farmer. The giver of life. Even as they knew this, they also had been told from the cradles of their mothers to beware the Hunter of Souls, the Great Hunt, the Wylde Hunt. For good reason it was told to be avoided as well. For once a soul was claimed, woe to he (or she) who was the claimed. They would ride with the Lord of the UnSeelie till they ceased to exist in the howling winds and ghostly apperations of his host. It was rare that the Lord would Ride, but from time to time he did. Generally to seek out those who had truly tarnished his law, with his loyal Cú Ifreann. A pack of hounds who sought for his hand to end.

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