[center][hider][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/316071861521874946/525463806567251968/ambra2.png[/img] [img]http://i.imgur.com/50eMiVQ.jpg?1[/img] [img]http://i.imgur.com/9rCf9HE.jpg?1[/img][/hider][/center] [center][i][h1]Familiar Faces[/h1][/i] [i][sub]Part II[/sub][/i][/center] [b]Time: Noon, One Month Ago Location: Location: The Red Devil, Lost Haven[/b] [hr] Puck put on his signature grin. [color=A52A2A][b]”Well, if you two insist, please, follow me to my office. I am sure you have no shortage of questions.”[/b][/color] he led them up the stairs to the third floor, down a long corridor full of offices with ornate plaques donating their owners. At the end, etched in gold, was the office of Robin Goodfellow. Puck graciously opened the door and allowed Marie and Odette to step through. Puck followed close behind, taking his seat and motioning for his guests to do the same. Folding his hand and placing them on his desk, which was surprisingly free of clutter, he nodded at them. [color=A52A2A][b]”What seems to be first on our agenda?”[/b][/color] Odette sat after Puck took a seat, folding her dress underneath her flicking her fingers across to smooth it out, back straight. “[color=thistle]’Our?’ Curious, you have had your hands in the thick of this far longer than either of us knew. We have found out more of Gwyneth and you Monsieur Goodfellow along the way. Our sights have set on the next location of one of Gwyneth’s possessions. We believe you could be of help.[/color]” She said, tone sweeter than honey, eyes icy as ever. “[color=thistle]Your niece has some questions however.[/color]” [color=ffe4b5]”After your meeting with Od . . .“[/color] Marie almost slipped, clearing her throat to correct herself, [color=ffe4b5]”The Ambassador, you knew about my connection to Mab. What does it mean? And you and your brothers being sons of Mab, I can’t believe I never knew! Why isn’t that talked about? Hell, it’s not even written in any lore aside from some obscure wood carvings owned by witches in Salem.”[/color] The Ambassador remained silent as Marie corrected herself, her name in the hands of Puck would be disastrous. She chewed at the inside of her cheek relieved the conversation carried on. Puck chuckled, [color=A52A2A][b]”Yes, the Essex Wyrd and their Andover predecessors were privy to a wealth of ancient lore due to their early allegiance to Mab, who, as you now know, is my mother, and mother to all Pwca, all Imps, a caste of beings borne from my brothers and I. As my mother, and as your grandmother, that does, in fact, make me your ‘uncle’ if we must label ourselves as such. But as you know, especially you, Lady Ambassador, familial ties between Fey, Spirits, Demons, and the like are more fluid and conceptual than binding and concrete. “To save you the trouble of asking, no, I was unaware of this connection upon our initial interaction. I was drawn to you by our mutual friend, rest his soul, and what came after was a pleasant surprise.”[/b][/color] Odette grinned with amusement, “[color=thistle][i]Oui.[/i] How the branches of a family tree can twist.[/color]” Removing her cellphone, not receiving a single bar of reception - as expected - she opened her photos to show Puck the wooden carving Maryann had showed them in Salem. “[color=thistle]We believe the next possession of Gwyneth to be with the former Queen Mab, there is an explicit connection between them. The spirit that inhabits Salem’s sacred grounds revealed as much including the vision that showed us Gwyneth’s ancestry.[/color]” “[color=thistle]She has not been seen for centuries,[/color]” Odette watched Puck’s expression as she spoke, trying to gauge him. “[color=thistle]Rumours have naturally grown from her missing years, that she finds favour among the Unseelie isolating herself from the Summer Courts she once called her home. Whisps and clues, if anyone were to have a solid lead to her whereabouts it would possibly be you, Monsieur Goodfellow.[/color]” It was clear to The Ambassador that Puck had vested interest in Marie and the recovery of her soul, it was clear ever since he gladly exchanged notes and wrote the contract on behalf of Gwyneth. It was just as likely a possibility that he did not care to know of his mother, many faerie paid little mind to their origins as parental figures. Humans and fae diverged quite dramatically at that point on, relationships to home and family were as Puck said, entirely different concepts to Faerie and other spirits. Something that Odette struggled to understand when she was first made aware of Faerie. The Imps were not faerie, the fact they could name Puck’s mother was extraordinary. It begged the question, what kind of relationship did he have with Queen Mab if any at all? “[color=thistle]None are quite as savvy with information as you are, nor mix so generously with various threads.[/color]” She said spreading her hands open, flattery to intelligence went a long way and her antagonistic approach with Puck never resulted in anything but a headache. “[color=thistle]If you have any leads to Mab, we will gladly pay for it.[/color]” [color=A52A2A][b]”She resides in Faerie,”[/b][/color] Puck offered dryly, tapping his claws on the desk while leaning back in his chair, face unmoving. [color=A52A2A][b]”I have not spoken to Mab in centuries; she became distant after her flight from the Summer Court. As you know, she briefly set up residence in the New World before returning home. I only know this by way of my brothers, only two of whom have remained in contact with mother dearest. We held a summit in Cornwall several seasons past, the Bucca, Herne, and myself. The Hunter regularly returns to Faerie with the Wild Hunt, passing over Tir na nOg. According to Herne, former Queen Mab has carved a place for herself on the island, exactly where I cannot say.”[/b][/color] Puck leaned forward, cold, black irises scanning the Ambassador. [color=A52A2A][b]”Tell me, Lady Ambassador,”[/b][/color] he said cooly, subtle curiosity forming in his eyes and the edge of his grin, [color=A52A2A][b]”What do you know of Tir na nOg and the Tuatha De?”[/b][/color] “[color=thistle][i]Aos Si[/i].[/color]” Odette breathed, “[color=thistle]I know as well as anyone, faerie’s heroes, kings and queens. Children of Danu. Tir na nOg, Isle of the Young settled by the Tuatha de Dannan.[/color]” She said, leaning a little forward as well, her eyes found Marie’s “[color=thistle]A plane unique to the Fey.[/color]” “[color=thistle]Incredibly difficult to enter or gain favour to be invited. No mortal crosses the threshold and has ever returned.Who would return to life after finding paradise beyond the stars?[/color]” She said, templing her finger tips in thought. “[color=thistle]It would explain why no one else has seen Former Queen Mab in such a long time.[/color]” “[color=thistle]The Wild Hunt. . . It passes over Tir na nOg?[/color]” Curious, threads sprouting from what Puck had shared. [color=A52A2A][b]”But of course, where did you assume those lost souls taken up by the hunt went? Some join the hunt, those who are strong of will, but those who choose to flee instead of pursue are often transformed into beasts of prey, forever fleeing for the Hunter’s amusement. And, perhaps this was unknown to you, Tir na nOg is the Hunter’s home. I have seen it, of course, but my time in Faerie was spent among the courts, not lavishing with the Tuatha on their island of bliss.”[/b][/color] Marie’s eyes widened. [color=ffe4b5]”Are you saying that your brother is a member of the Tuatha?”[/color] Puck laughed. [color=A52A2A][b]”Were he so lucky. No, my dear, Herne is but the child of the Tuatha. They amuse themselves with his company on occasion; he is perhaps the fiercest hunter in Faerie, but nothing more. Mab, however, is Tuatha, a child of the goddess Danu, personification of the land, Tir na nOg, but one would never know it by what few historical texts exist regarding her importance. She counts herself among the spirits borne when the stars fell from the heavens, bound to the earth, envigored by the celestial blood let from giants, if you believe the old stories.”[/b][/color] Odette sat back in her chair with that revelation, Queen Mab was more than simple nobility. “[color=thistle]Comment cela pourrait être possible?[/color]” She said in a whisper, “[color=thistle]This… this will take time to prepare for-[/color]” she gestured with a wave of her hand, brow furrowing in thought. “[color=thistle]Which item could she have been entrusted with. . .[/color]” Groping for her phone off of Puck’s desk she scrolled through her notes. “[color=thistle]It could be anyone of them.[/color]” She waved the thought away, turning fully in her seat to face Marie, “[color=thistle]What is clear is that we need to get to Tir na nOg to find Former Queen Mab. Ambitious a goal as it is to aspire to visit, it will be another to meet with Former Queen Mab.[/color]” “[color=thistle]Our way there is to join the Wild Hunt.[/color]” She said her smile was small and her eyes glittered with ambition. “[color=thistle]No other mortal could hope to accomplish what we set to do, Marie.[/color]” [color=ffe4b5]”And it’s not impossible either,”[/color] Marie jumped up in excitement, rushing over to a shelf at the corner of Puck’s office, opening a glass cabinet to reveal a collection of old tomes, medieval by ware on the spines. Puck looked on in amusement. [color=ffe4b5]”Here,”[/color] she announced, producing an original copy of the Malleus Maleficarum from the shelf, opening to an old illustration of witches flying to the sabbath. [color=ffe4b5]”Misguided as Kramer was, he managed to dig up some fairly decent lore. Look, witches have flown with the Wild Hunt at different points in history, in fact it was hilariously common in Germany. There are a few locations around Europe where the Hunt is said to begin. Maybe I can dig up some old ritual to speak with the Hunter while you look for possible dates?”[/color] Odette nodded, “[color=thistle]That would be relatively easy to research.[/color]” She stood from her seat to look over the book. Without jumping to far into their next phase in planning Odette said to Puck, “[color=thistle]What do we owe you for today?[/color]” “[color=thistle]If it is another prophetic vision I will not leave until we negotiate something else.[/color]” She said dryly. [color=A52A2A][b]”Actually, I would like to speak with you, Lady Ambassador.”[/b][/color] Puck turned to Marie, [color=A52A2A][b]”Alone, if you wouldn’t mind. You should take the time to reacquaint yourself with Lady Hex.”[/b][/color] Marie looked between Puck and Odette. [color=ffe4b5]”Umm, sure. I’ll be downstairs. We can talk about the specifics when you’re finished.”[/color] Marie set down the book, walking to the door and closing it behind her. Puck waited until her footsteps disappeared. [color=A52A2A][b]”There is a matter I wish to discuss with you, Lady Ambassador, one that I believe is uniquely suited to your talents and connections. I would like to employ your services in retrieving something for me.”[/b][/color] Her imagination ran wild, what could Puck need of her that he could not send one of his dozens of contracted witches out to do the same? “[color=thistle]I am listening.[/color]” She made her way back to the chair, sitting. “[color=thistle]I know you can afford me for an errand or two.[/color]” Smiling before it disappeared, “[color=thistle]What is it that you want and what are you willing to pay me with?[/color]” Puck looked grim. [color=A52A2A][b]”A grave threat to our kind, those who move among the shadows, night’s black agents, denizens of the Otherworld, of Faerie and its accompanying realms, has been allowed to return to prominence. You know of The Winter Court, but I fear none but those who remember their cruelty can understand the power they hold. The Hounds of Humanity were but pawns in the Witchfinder’s crusade against witchery and its ilk. As we speak, a plan is being set in motion to destroy the Court, but I need a weapon more powerful than simple magic alone. “Something forged in Faerie, hidden there for centuries. In exchange for its retrieval, I offer you the answer to your questions, not a prophecy or portent, but the truth, in its entirety. Three questions, I will grant you, over past, present, or future, and if it is within my power, I will answer them honestly, without deception.”[/b][/color] Odette folded her hands over her lap, “[color=thistle]That is quite the task and reward. I understand what The Winter Court is capable of I saw the results of Pixy Stix with my own eyes.[/color]” She chewed at the inside of her cheek in thought, “[color=thistle]. . .How, how big is The Winter Court that it would need more than a combined effort to rid ourselves of them once again? What power do they contain to strike fear in you and Hekate?[/color]” She amended after a beat, “[color=thistle]They certainly threaten the greater livelihood of everyone they hate but they aim to destroy the status quo that allows faerie and spirit to exist as we do in its chaotic balance with humans on the edge of the periphery.[/color]” Puck stood from his desk, removing an ornate urn from a shelf on the back wall. He set it in front of Odette such that the plaque on the front was visible. “Joseph Mathers.” [color=A52A2A][b]”There are ways of hurting me, Lady Ambassador, that are not physical. It is rare that I . . . that I feel sadness, fear, despair, but the Court threatens to destroy all that I have built, even if it cannot destroy me. The same holds true for the Witch Mother, and my brothers, and others like us. We have a claim on this world, many of us were here first, and we will not be displaced by filth.”[/b][/color] Puck’s words were dripping with venom. [color=A52A2A][b]”The Court once had the power to make witches betray their coven mates and divulge secrets, the power to strip them of their gifts, the power to mortally wound beings nearly as old as I. That was in the Dark Ages. I implore you to imagine what feats they might accomplish with the ingenuity of the modern world.”[/b][/color] Eyes drifted from the plaque to the urn, staring at it. Easily remembering the night when Joseph Mathers died by her hand. One body in a line of them that stubbornly refused to fade from memory and relevance. It would only be a matter of time before she met a similar fate, as the prophecy foretold ashes awaited her as it did Joseph. [color=thistle][i]No.[/i][/color], she thought. Understanding chilled her down to the marrow of her bones. “[color=thistle]It is easy to forget sometimes what stakes there are.[/color]” Taking a deep breath in, her eyes torn away from the urn. “[color=thistle]You have a deal, Monsieur Goodfellow.[/color]” She stood up, Puck easily towering over her she brought her hand up to shake. “[color=thistle]I will retrieve the weapon in exchange for three truthful answers to my questions.[/color]” Puck took her hand, shaking it while maintaining eye contact. [color=A52A2A][b]”As a show of good faith,”[/b][/color] he said, retrieving a piece of parchment from beneath his desk, [color=A52A2A][b]”I will provide you with the knowledge of the weapon.”[/b][/color] The paper depicted a worn drawing of a dagger, not quite as ornate as one might expect for a weapon forged in Faerie. The blade was short and slightly curved, of ceremonial design. The hilt was a collection of vines or branches, etched with old Fey markings that matched a small scabbard. [color=A52A2A][b]”It is known as the Fomorian Blade, a weapon wrought in the earliest days of Faerie. It has taken me centuries to piece together this much of the legend, but perhaps Bach has heard of its mystery. As the story goes, a faery midwife was entrusted with the delivery of a human child to her mistress, a noble in one of the outer courts. The transition for mortal children to feary is easiest when taken early, so the midwife believed a newborn would be best. She emerged in a dense wood and asked a flock of nightingales to listen for the cries of a woman in labor. Three days passed until her spies reported the location of an expecting mother, a few hours into labor. Upon her arrival, the faery took the form of the woman’s midwife and helped deliver the child. The faery had seen the birth of mortals before, but had never taken part. She thought it sad that her mistress couldn’t experience birth as mortals did. “What happens next is unclear, as one source describes the faery midwife leaving the child with its mother, and another says the child died in the midwife’s arms. In both cases, however, the midwife returns to Faerie without a human child, instead seeking the wisdom of a Fomorian witch. The witch told the midwife that there might indeed be a way to bless her mistress with a child of her own, one who would bond with its mother the way mortal children did. The witch traveled with the midwife to earth, taking with her the bark from a tree in her home and he skin of a holy beast. She enchanted a blacksmith, commanding him to forge a blade of iron. “When asked why by the faery, the witch suggested that the marriage of the two worlds, iron from our world and pieces from theirs, would create a powerful weapon. At first, the faery didn’t understand her role, nor did she understand why a weapon would be the key to providing her mistress with a child. Soon after the blade was finished, the wood hand been worked into a hilt, the skin into a scabbard, the witch took the blade and stabbed the blacksmith, who bled out, and the faery, who was poisoned by the iron blade. With their blood, the witch inscribed an enchantment onto the blade’s hilt and scabbard, then returned to Faerie. Finding the midwife’s former mistress asleep, the witch took the blade and waved it over the noble. As a test, the witch then pricked the noble’s thumb. The noble woman awoke, affronted by the intrusion and fearful of the iron on her skin. But much to her surprise, she wasn’t poisoned. Instead, the blade had imparted the noble with mortality, relieving her of her faery weaknesses. “Not much else is known about this story or how it ended, but it seems that the blade was used in early wars between the Fomorians and Tuatha until finding itself in the care of an order of knights belonging to the Vernal Court. The blade, unable to be destroyed, was separated into three pieces and entrusted to a different noble family. I need you to locate these knights, coerce them, somehow, into relinquishing their pieces of the blade, and return it to me.”[/b][/color] Odette stared at Puck, the blade being created out of Fomorian hands meant it was cursed by mortal and faerie blood in its creation used in an ancient war. “[color=thistle]This blade can remove a faerie’s immortality?[/color]” She stood abruptly, “[color=thistle]Why would you want to bring a weapon like that back together? If it is safeguarded in pieces then it should remain there forever. What use is it against The Winter Court?[/color]” Grimacing, hand against her temple. She just agreed to retrieve it, such a amatuer mistake. “[color=thistle][i]Merde[/i], Monsieur.[/color]” [color=A52A2A][b]”Because not only can it remove a faery’s immortality, Lady Ambassador, it can remove a human’s mortality. It can make them fey. The Witchfinder and his Court are forever surrounded and equipped with weapons that poison witches and sorcerers, ward against their spells, expel fey and spirit alike. Imagine what a single knick from that blade could do, how their entire arsenal could be turned against them, beginning with those iron crosses they wear about their necks.”[/b][/color] Blinking and looking away her hand came down to cover her mouth, the implications of such a weapon immediately clear. Swallowing she spoke quietly, “[color=thistle]I see. They would become what they loathe, visiting not only victory but poetic justice.[/color]” “[color=thistle]They would be undone by such a thing.[/color]” Her heart thumped away in her chest, such a way existed for her all this time to join Faerie properly and completely. No more would she be mocked for her mortality. Looking back to Puck she thought, [color=thistle][i]I want it.[/i][/color] Her hand dropped back to her side, finding the strap of her purse to hold. “[color=thistle]May I have this?[/color]” She referred to the drawing of the Fomorian Blade. “[color=thistle]While I retrieve it for you.[/color]” Puck nodded with a grin. [color=A52A2A][b]”But of course. There is something else about the blade you should know. It cannot be stolen. It must be passed to a new wielder willingly by the previous and accepted by the new, which is why you are the perfect fit. You have established trust with the various courts, picked up their tricks. I am certain you can retrieve the blade.”[/b][/color] Puck walked around his desk and placed a hand on the Ambassador’s shoulder, kneeling down and placing his face close to hers, moving to her ear. [color=A52A2A][b]”But be reminded that all deals made with me are binding, Ambassador. Return the blade, receive your answers. And to answer a question you have yet to ask, I know not what I intend to do with the blade once my business with the Witchfinder is done. Perhaps I will entrust it to someone worthy of its power, someone whose fate is yet uncertain.”[/b][/color] Her breath caught and she closed her eyes. Momentarily believing his suggestion. He stood, waltzing over to the door to his office and gesturing to the hall outside. [color=A52A2A][b]”Now, why don’t you enjoy a drink with Marie. Make some new friends, or contacts at the least. You have all earned it.”[/b][/color] Gently rolling up the drawing and storing it safely into her purse. “[color=thistle]Until we meet again, Monsieur Goodfellow.[/color]” Schooling her expression with difficulty to mask the coiling excitement in her belly. “[color=thistle]We will have our hard work cut out for us.[/color]” As she passed him heading out the door she briefly bowed her head respectfully then exited, the clack of her heels sounding off as she walked rejoining with Marie, Bach, and the revelry of The Red Devil.