[OOC] Avan-Sol

[The Fauxtrot]

[To be updated with All CS information here]



“It’s sort of romantic, isn’t it? Kids outnumbered…fighting for something they believe in. Better than HBO, I’d say.”

Name: Helen Fenten a.k.a. Drizzy X

Age: 26

Race/Faction/Abilities: Human / Monarchy of Ulrich / None

Personality/Occupation:
A “wild child” Helen enjoys all things technology, she runs numerous websites and blogs and vlogs daily. She’s not easy to get along with and has been known to say or do whatever she feels, luckily her ability to cope with massive amounts of stress help her deal with the consequences of her poor decision making. She was the last one to actually speak with Avan publicly/ Currently unemployed, Former talk show host of “Alt. Twisted News”

Background:

House Call

“Pleasure without conscience. Knowledge without character. Worship without sacrifice. She’s been guilty of quite a few social sins, and then some.” Mrs. Fenten’s mouth formed a tired smile, her face obscured behind thin spinnerets of smoke, “When I was at three months, I prayed that God give me a strong child. A boy—I wanted one that looked just like his daddy before he passed away, bless his soul. Do you believe in souls? ” she asked, but when she didn’t get an answer, she continued “But,” she took a long, drag on an Old-Fashioned,“I got Helen. And I knew from the very moment she came out, she was meant for something. I wasn’t sure what. But I could tell that God gave me at least half my wish.”

“And, the father?”

“Lung cancer got him a few years ago. One of those long drawn out ordeals, by the time he went we had made our peace; he’s with Jesus now. Do you know who Jesus is? Mary? John the Baptist?” her voice was tensed and as she leaned forward, a crescent of light illuminated the tight brown skin of her forehead, “Look, I ain’t got nothin’ against your kind, but all of this talking is making me tired. So if you don’t mind…”

“As you wish.”

The scraping of metal feet on kitchen tile and a sudden groan of the heavy oak table sliding out of place, “Wait. Please… Please, this is very hard for me. Do you know where she is? If you do, just tell me. She’s been missing for a week—you said it would be best not to get the authorities involved and I haven’t!” she gripped with both hands at the edge of his collar “Helen was a nice girl. I’m not saying she’s perfect, but she’s got a good heart. Please give her back--”

“I don’t have her. But I believe she’s safe.”

“Damn you, O’Shalna! You’re going to Hell if anything happens to her. I trusted you! Even after seeing on the six o’clock news—drugs, orgies, satanic music—had I known Helen was going to be dragged down that path—when I called you into my home I expected more answers!” In a fit of passion she slaps him.

A sharp, ugly sound that hangs thick in the air between them. The hand print, pinkish and small on the man’s cheek fades quickly. Calmly, he smooths down the front of his uniform.

“My brother isn’t perfect either Mrs. Fenten,” His voice is cool and indifferent, he runs a hand to smooth the hairs that had strayed out of place “Thanks for the tea.”

"You better watch your back Damian," she cries helplessly after him, "-- you and that God awful brother, too!"

[The Fauxtrot]

“You want more-- you’re not very smart, are you?”

Name: Ulrich Vey O’Shalna

Age: 19

Race/Faction/Abilities:

Faerie / Monarch of Ulrich / Will-‘O-Wisp

Personality/Occupation:

He’s usually the type to chew toothpicks and rag all day about “techies should appreciate…” this and “there’s going to come a day when…” that. Vain, curios, petulant, and clever… very clever… His redeeming qualities are perhaps his fierce loyalty. To Avan. To his subjects. Even his brother [though he openly disagrees, as brothers often do].
All of this has been changing recently due to his recent participation in drug use. Now they say he’s become paranoid, and secretive, and obsessive—this all according to Drizzy X's Monday blog post about it.

Background:

Four years prior:

Two meaty patties on two toasted, wheat buns. One red tomato slice, and three crinkled pickles. A beautiful green leaf of lettuce and two dabs of condiments: mustard and “Fancy” ketchup. The best part of all was a tall blue frosted glass that sat glimmering in the sunlight between them. It was filled to the very brim with sweet, brown cola and three giant floating dollops of vanilla ice cream.

“Go on. Just a little—it tastes like heaven” Helen’s lips formed a large ‘O’ as she slowly inched her pinky towards his face; she had dipped it into the ice cream and cola and it was starting to melt down between the columns of her fingers. He eyed the digit, focusing his imagination and hoping, just hoping that if he denied her long enough that this iced-cream would melt down into her palm. Down her wrist and arm and then elsewhere… She frowned, and then to his disappointment she lowered the hand and folded it into a napkin, “I don’t get it. This is the best place in town, you can’t have anything here?”

He shook his head, leaning backwards into the cracked leather booth, eyeing her with a sort of wary look, “that stuff’s poison,” he folded both hands under the table between them.

“Sure, it is to everyone” she grinned and dunked another finger—this time the middle one, on to the side of her plate and into some neon red ketchup. “What can I say? We all gotta’ go sometime—hey!”

He hadn’t even thought about it, his hand closed around her forearm and pulled until he was able to reach his lips around the base of her finger. All at once: Tomato concentrate from red ripe tomatoes, distilled vinegar, high fructose corn syrup, corn syrup, water, salt, and lastly tomato... no, not tomato… more chemicals…
It was awful. Wonderful. And horrible. He’ll be sick later. His expression was bunched and the skin around his freckles bloomed red and inflamed.

“Okay, you’ve made your point—can I have my hand back?” her voice was high pitched and tremulous, he smiled weakly at her, feeling a bit green.

“Anything that isn’t coming straight from Gaia herself…” he paused, noticing for the first time, the massive shadow that had cast itself on the surface of the table between them.

“Hey look who it is, it’s Dami--” but before anything else, he wretched. Hard.

“I’m gonna’ go and see if they can send someone here to clean this up” suggested Helen, a bit too keenly. Slipping out of the booth she pranced her way between tables, leaving the two brothers in foul smelling air.

Ulrich waited until she was out of earshot, “Nice girl, you got there… Hey, weren’t you supposed to be busy today?”

“You think you’re funny don’t you?” Damien said darkly, “The tiger exhibit—really? Do you hate me that much?”

“I thought you liked the Zoo”

“You locked me in a cage. With tigers. Real tigers. For three days.” Damien's face drew within inches from his own, Ulrich watched from the corner of his eye how the veins in his forearms rolled and wondered how long before the table would snap under pressure, “And then I manage to escape, only to find you here?”

Ulrich leaned away and reaches for his glass of spring water. Sipping slowly, “Three days?” he mused quietly, “I knew I must’ve forgotten something… How was it?”

“No clothes. You left me at Central Zoo, naked. In a cage.”

“It’s the only way you’d have learned,” to his own surprise, Ulrich finds himself suddenly annoyed, he sets down his glass and stands, squaring his shoulders, “I get that you’ve only been at this a few months. But your little talent isn’t exactly the safest one out there-- did it ever occur to you that me leaving you back there just saved you years of practice?” being only fifteen, he was less than half Damien’s size in total, “Look, Avan put me in charge of showing you the ropes because he’s nice. He thinks you’ve got what it takes to set an example for our people.” He pauses and then adds quietly, “But personally, bro? I don’t see it.”

“Hey, I’ve got the check up there waiting for us—hey what’s wrong?” Helen’s gaze shifts between the two of them, frowning she comes to rest an arm around Damien’s waist.

“Nothing” he, snaps. He’s annoyed with her too because he realizes, that she was also taller than him, “I was just leaving—we’ll do this another time, love. Leave the tip for me?” after plunking down a larger bill between the food and his plate of vomit, he strides quickly past them.

“Is he going to be alright?” when Damien didn’t answer her she added “he came around my place worried about you, y’know…I think he really looks up to you--”

“Let's go for a movie.”

“You hate movies” Helen frowns, “Damien—hey look at me. Look.” She took his face between both hands. Forcing him to look her in the eye “He’s just a kid. He’ll come around eventually.”


It took quite some months until Helen's words would ring true. Ulrich's height shot up one summer-- he was an inch taller than Damien, longer but still lacking in bulk--- perhaps that factored in to his sudden change in attitude. Or perhaps it was Avan's influence after all. Nagging like a old women, practice after practice about 'teamwork'. Forcing them to work together.

[Spade]

My goddess has shown me many things, but what speaks to me the most, is that true salvation can not be achieved through negotiation, but reached by brazen victories.


Name: Damien Cass O'Shalna
Age: 24
Build: 6'2 230lbs

"Damien's always been plagued by nightmares, since he was a boy we would always rush to his room as soon as the screaming started. He said it was a beast that chased him, it would chase him through a thick forest, he would talk about how it was so foggy he would trip and fall and get up and keep running. They always ended the same way, he would run out to a beach, the beast chasing him into the water. He usually woke up by then, but sometimes...he said sometimes he'd drown until a woman would grab his hand. We took him to the best doctors, consulted the city's best psychologists. I mean, we would put him through test after test. He must have had his brain scanned at least a dozen times but they would all say the same thing, 'he's fine, he'll grow out of it.'." the voice began to tremble with confusion, "they never stopped, even when he was a teenager. He would lock his door, he said he had to fight the beast in his dreams but he never won. It wasn't until..."

"Wasn't until when, Mrs. O'Shalna?"

"It wasn't until he started reading those books, spending time with Faes. When he found out he was Fae, something clicked inside of him. He was able to figure it out, but I lost my eldest son, and that still hurts me to this day. He was a 5 Star Recruit, won All-American honors, First Team Collegiate Defensive Captain. He received the Ray Lewis Award for being the best linebacker in the country -- just look around, his awards are all over our living room, it's all I have left of him." the occasional sniffle came around, Damien's adoptive mother reached for a tissue and tried to calm herself, "It was this Avan kid, some kid he met in class that said he could rid him of his nightmares. He was the one that gave my Damien all of those old books, that spoke of gods and old traditions. He would go swimming every morning, up before the sun was, gone. I should have known then, I should have known I would lose him! He sat me down, he talked about how he was finally able stop the nightmares. He said 'Mom, I was never supposed to fight the beast, the beast was meant for me to embrace.' He spoke of all these things I didn't understand, he wouldn't stop about his one true goddess, the one he was meant for."

"Can you tell me the name of the goddess he began worshiping please?"

Mrs. O'Shalna laughed through her tears, the name brought her a miasma of different emotions. The goddess in question was the one who cleared Damien's clouded mind, cured him of his nightmares but also infatuated him so much he disconnected from his adoptive family all together and create the Sea Tigers, a movement of Fae that would eventually become his new family, as he felt it was intended to be so. Mrs. O'Shalna wiped the tears from her eyes, and looked up at her wall to a picture of Damien when he was still a child.

"Liara...her name is Liara."

---

Damien's boots left heavy imprints in the sand as he walked out to the beach. Central Forest cut clear through the sea, and the forest was dense enough to allow him to follow the river bank all the way without being seen by any drones. His scouts recognized when he was on a walk, and kept their distance out of respect for their calm leader. He removed the leather spaulders and vambraces, undoing his belt so he could slip his neomesh shirt off. His sword made a soft thud as it hit the sand. A twig snapped in the treeline, prompting Damien to stop and smile. His elven captain, Alistar made his presence known as he emerged from the treeline with a concerned look on his face.

"Are you going to see her again so soon? Frequent visits are unlike you, Damien. I hope you're not quarreled by our recent developments. Had I known it would have bothered you so, I would have waited until a better time to tell you."
"This isn't about Helen, Alistar, I've just got some things I need to hear from her right now, which is why I'm doing this. I'm fine, and when the day comes where something burdens me so much it hinders my ability to lead these men properly, you will be the first to know."
"Not the orc?"
"No, not the orc."

They both laughed, and Alistar nodded in acceptance to Damien's reassuring words, "Cool, you win, I'll see you in a bit then, boss." and with those last words, Alistar the Shadow walked calmly back into the forest. Damien used the rhythm of the waves to focus his mind, clear his thoughts. Slowly he began to walk into the water, eyes still closed, waves gently crashing into his form. Things went quiet, things got dark and Damien opened his eyes to find himself in the silent vastness of an immensely foggy beach. Waves crashing in the calm distance. Damien blinked himself into a focus, listening for her footsteps. He grew impatient after a few minutes, knowing she was watching him clearly through the fog. It was what this goddess did, constantly testing, teasing, waiting.

"I know you're there, I'm sure you like what you see."
"The re-opening of old wounds make my lovely man stronger and I need to you to be strong. How could you think of her again when you know you have me, my love? Her chance was so long ago, and I grow tiresome waiting for my king to come see me again. Your unfocused mind worries me, my king. Am I not beautiful enough for you, dearest? Are my gifts not rewarding enough to keep me in your heart?"
"You know that's not true. You are everything to me. Her time is over, she chooses Ulrich over me. She's Ulrich's and I am yours Liara, I am yours and no one else's" he spoke sternly, looking around for her figure to appear among the fog. Soon, it did. Her soft skin and hypnotizing curves approached him with soft footsteps. She wore nothing but a short, soft transparent toga and a crown lined with the teeth of a large tiger. She smiled and examined him with silence, her lips curving maliciously upward as she slowly walked around him, her finger tugging at his waistline.

"Your words calm my heart Damien, they make me long for the day when you will finally join me here and become my king. You would have me everyday, my love. I would be yours and you would be mine and we would have eternity together. You know it's what your heart desires, my love. Please Damien, take your life and join me." she spoke, her words infections to Damien's affection as she pressed her body against his, her hand pressed firmly on his chest, enticing him.
"I have things to take care of, you know I can't."
The air grew tense as Liara's blue nails slightly dug into Damien's skin. In the distance, a growl could be heard, footsteps circling the two became clearly audible. Damien was frozen, Liara's hold on him was too strong for his will to break. Her hand made it's way to the back of his neck, snatching it in close in one intense motion.
"Maybe I should take you myself, now that you are grown and strong enough to be my king. What if I decided to take you away, all for me to hold sway over? My love, I desire you with all of my heart, let me bring you into my world forever." she whispered sharply, words laced with chilling anger. Damien was finally able to break free of her hold, grabbing her hand and removing it from his neck, her nails leaving burning scratches.
"Not today." he whispered, and for a moment, they looked deeply into each others eyes before sharing a deep, passionate kiss.

Damien awoke amongst the wet sand, looking around before seeing his gear bundled a few yards away. He got up and looked around before feeling the burning cuts on his chest and neck. For years, he had accepted Liara as his one and only true love, destined to join her after a good death, but Helen and Ulrich would come to make things much more interesting.

[Spade]

I'm really busy with work this weekend, but I promise I'll have something up by tomorrow night. I was gonna try and throw something up really quick but I'm just too tired to post quality right now.

[The Fauxtrot]

Hey don't worry about it~ We take things at our own pace.
If you need me to give you more a picture of what's going on lemme know, I have plans to explain most of whats going on in the next post :)

Edit:

If I had the time I would totally flashback to when Damien was locked in the Zoo xD Also might flash back to the time where Helen and Damien first met-- but I dunno-- I'll save such a mushy/comical flashback for a rainy day. It's pretty sweet the way I imagine it.

[The Fauxtrot]

Loved the post xD especially because it comes off like Damien views Ulrich as an idiot near the end. Which is brilliant. I love the gnome and the science-y aspect, that part was genius as it builds upon the whole "fae-drugs"-- also it's just cool. About the 'finding someone bit'- O_O am I allowed to know?

My post will be coming day after tomorrow. By the end of it, you should know that Dirk [if you remember from the very first teaser post-- I planned him to be a generic meathead that didn't make the cut to be a tiger, but you can do whatever you like with him if/when the time comes] and Helen are coming for Damien.

Edit:

Ulrich's crest. I jimmied it off a tat design and modded it using Gimp. As usual, lemme know if you need me to change anything in the post.

[The Fauxtrot]

Chapter One events moving forward:
1: Our heroes are going to arrive into the heart of the city and Check into the Ritz Carlton [A new and improved version] following clues of Ulrich's location.
2: Once checked in, they will receive an invitation to a wedding; an invitation that cannot be refused... The unlocking of the Blue Lion
3: The bride is ..[YOU SHALL SEE SOON-- I've left tiny clues. She is the main villian of the first and second chapter].. and the groom is The Mayor of New York City [CS of him coming soon-- playable by you or me or both because I think you'd enjoy him as much as I would]. Identity of The Widow is revealed
4: A very dangerous drug deal will be made.

Chapter two:
1: Characters will be forced into the underground subways into Goblin Lake
2: Reunion of Ulrich and group.
3: A main character who is not what they seem will betray us all...
4: The reason of Avan's death is revealed and he makes an appearance to the O'Shalna brothers

[The Fauxtrot]

The Flash Back Post

This type of post will contain a series of flashbacks that can be referenced throughout the main RP. Order does not matter, just continuity. Basically, stuff that just doesn't fit right away or at all in the IC but could be fun details for spare time or what not.

Helen

Episode 1

Strange Beginnings

That feeling you get when you love someone dangerous. I don’t mean that fake stuff that makes you want to jump off bridges and sing —I mean genuine fondness for someone. The kind of love that makes you want to strangle them for not wearing a coat in the middle of December, the kind that makes you fight a gag reflex to wipe the snot off of their sheepish faces, the kind that enables you to have more patience and awareness for them than you’ve had of yourself for the past twenty-six years of your entire life.

Once upon of time I had three of those people in my life. One of them is my sister, Abby—she’s such a typical kid though, until she hits her twenties I won’t be able to talk to her like I do the other two. The second one is Ulrich, but that boy is another story all his own.

The last one is Damien Cass O’Shalna. And man, if there isn’t a library of feminist literature written about his type already… Tall, handsome, surprisingly articulate-- he might have even been the type I’d bother to stick around for. Except for one tiny, minuscule, detail: He’s totally insane. And I knew that from the very minute I met him:

Five Years Prior

I had been officially offered a shot to do my own gig once I had finished up my last semester at Syracuse. My hobby Stream ‘Alt. Twisted News’ would be reaching a broader audience after about a few million hits on my own. I also hosted the university Stream—easy, right?

Wrong. I said the word “fuck” on a live campus broadcasting. Twice. My Editor was not amused.

"You're being assigned to a player interview"
"What? Because of one broadcast? Mark-- we're all adults-- fuck. Fuck. Fuckitty-fucking-fuck-fuck!"
"Fuck kitty? My, we're getting really creative today."
"...who's the player?"
"He's a freshman. Damien O'Shalna."
"Hasn't someone already done a few segments on that kid?"
"Have you heard his deal? He's all they wanna hear about. Get in there Fenten. And make it good."

He wasn't the easiest guy in the world to schedule an interview with. It took a few weeks of phone tag to meet him face to face. We ended up at the edge of Central Forest; a couple of hot chocolates and the cleanest park bench we could find.

“Drizzy X?” He chuckled when I told him my real name and then apologized with, “It’s just that my mother’s middle name is Helen. Very old fashioned.”

“Oh, I read that you were adopted.” I said without thinking.

He nodded matter-of-factly and shrugged, “That’s not a secret,” his eyes softened a bit as he followed with, “as far as I’m concerned, her and Pops are about as blood as you can get.”

“That’s adorable, can I quote that?” he nodded, and after a moment I continued, “Thank you for meeting with me last minute; you must be swamped with your first year on campus.”

“Speak for yourself,” he eyed his own sentence which illustrated itself in a quote bubble above his head. The bubble of text folded itself into a digital airplane and took a nosedive into my tablet with a pixilated ripple; the words ‘Speak for yourself,’ appeared in Helvetica on my screen. “It must be difficult to manage two Streams.”

I reached out and held my fingers over the ‘mute’ hologram hovering between us. “You have no idea. Honestly, I feel like I’m going to pull my hair out.”

He reached out and hollowed his hand over his own ‘mute’ button and then said, “This is your last interview for the university Stream right?”

I nodded, “Yes, they’re fazing me out quietly- no offense.” He shook his head as if to say ‘None taken’.

“Syracuse won’t be the same once you graduate, I guarantee it.”

“You’re still a freshman, you haven’t been here long enough to miss me.”

“That’s not true. I was offered a scholarship to play college ball at Syracuse when you took over the general Stream and Mark Eisen was moved to strictly sports. I’ve listened or watched just about all of your player interviews.”

“Mark? Yeah...great guy...if you like blood loss. He does a lot of editing now.” I watched him nod and then place a hand over his chest, his expression seemed troubled, “What was a high school kid like you listening to some random university Stream?”

“…Well I’ve always wanted to go here… it’s relatively progressive views on social issues and... and....Can we do this another time?... I've got to go.” He arched suddenly in a backwards bend over our park bench in a move would make an ordinary linebacker blush; full tilt sprint for the tree line of Central Forest.

[Loading Profile... Loading... Loading... Missing Profile] With a few swiping gestures I closed down the holograms and logged my time as 'out'. Great. Just what am I supposed to do with that? Oh crap.

"Wait! I need to get you sign on off on some affidavits!" he was fast, really fast, I but when I squinted I could still make out his outline just beyond the breaks in the trees.

When he looked back at me gaining on him he frowned, "Get lost"

"Wh-what? No. Whatever's going on, you just made this interview helluva' lot more interesting" I laughed and then I stopped laughing when he began to speed up. Already, I was sweating.

"Seriously, can't you just ask someone else?"

"You can't hide from your demons O'Shalna! Sooner or later they're going to riiiiiiiiiise again!" It was from some old song way back when and seemed funny enough... Whatever it's reference it seemed to really have an effect on him. He tripped and landed hard on his palms. "You can't out run me forever Damien! Track team, freshman year, you can shove it hard O'Sh--"

Just when I thought I had caught up with him he began running on all fours at a speed that couldn't possibly be maintained by any normal human, "You really are a busy girl" he called back, "Alright, enough is enough..."

He took a hard right and vanished.

Low branch?
Low branch.

Lights out.

---

Rough
Urgh. My head...
Wet
My fucking head...
Hot
My poor, fucking head...
Red

I scream. Two tigers, wince in unison. Moments later my double vision fades and I realize that there is only one tiger. This fact however, does nothing to calm me. I scream again.

After about a minute of this, the tiger's ears fold back and it starts to growl. Soft as a whisper and then increasing in volume until the forest floors quake.

I pass out again.

But not before I feel it go back to quietly licking my head wounds.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Smooth
Tiger tongues are antiseptic.
Moist
There are more than just orange ones. For example. There are white ones. Gold ones. Black ones. The rarest of all, blue.
Warm
Tiger's often mimic the voice of prey in order to lure their own into an ambush.
Pink

"Almost done. Stay still." a familiar voice instructs me.

A tongue strokes at the same spot on my forehead and in my delirium I find it oddly erotic. Clumsily, I reach up and drag god-knows-what down and center. It tastes like blood and Colgate..?

"Uh, no." whatever it is, it's repressing laughter, "I have a girlfriend."

Blood and Colgate has a girlfriend...? What does that even mean...? Colgate. Coooooolgate. Ha-ha.

My eyes snap open. "You can become a tiger? Rad. Can I have a clip for the university Stream?"

Damien O'Shalna staggers backwards "Listen, lady. I don't know that you think you saw--"

"I remember everything."

"Everything?" he swallows.

Verifying, I pull out the tablet and glance to make sure it was still recording "Everything. I've got footage... hey... what are you anyways?"

---

Turns out he didn't know what he was-- there were no records of Tiger morphing Fae... at least not that we knew of.

I graduated a few weeks later so I didn't see too much of him after that. My show became a hit soon after. Maybe fifth after the various weather girls, stock picks, and sports. It focused on strange happenings and targeted social issues of the Folk and Central Forest politics.

I was doing a bit on the new fae football team at my old alma mater; the college had just allowed the new team to play for the first time. There was, what I would later come to know, as a younger Ulrich in the stands, watching his new elder brother passively on the gridiron. All freckles and short with bandaged fingers. He was cuter as a kid.

Beside Ulrich there was another figure who wore a swim team letterman's jacket. He seemed too serene for his surroundings. Both old and young at the same time... I caught myself staring at him until:

"Still busy?"

"Oh! Heeeeey-- you scared me. It's over? When? I.." I glance back to stands, but the man and Ulrich had vanished.

Damien leans over the gate and waves off rowdy teammates, "For about ten minutes, now. You look... well, fame definitely agrees with you, Miss Fenten"

"Ah, what can I say? I'm livin' The Good Life. And you? It's been like.. months..." my voice lowers and I lean in, "so ... everything is figured out now?"

"Mostly."

"Good. Don't forget. You still owe me that interview."

Episode 2

Timid Middles

The pianist strolls in about halfway through his own entrance; the band smoothly loops into a variation of the intro for a second time as he skirts along wallpaper to take to the bench. He shrugs off his snow flurried coat and pulls the index fingers of each leather glove, “Play me in Dino.” The saxophonist wipes a bead of sweat from his brow and nods into a slippery, sly note. The pianist smooths his tie, adjusts the level of his microphone, and finally stilts his fingertips to the black and ivory keys. He licks his lips, and croons into the microphone.

Oh the weather outside is frightful, Darling so frightful... But the fire is so deeeeli-ii-ii-iightful...

The last of shivering couples begin to trickle in from the holiday's blizzard and into the toasty ballroom. Girl's shrug off their thin glittering shawls and guys slip ushers modest tips. Reds, greens, and gold with poinsettias adorning every corner; the smell of frost and champagne with the low hum of polite small talk. Long white columns lined two sides of the long room, serving as a place the shy or single could sulk or hide and eat the free food. The city's prestigious Moonlight Charity Ball was now officially in full swing.

“As a spider would say: You are helplessly trapped. There is no hope for you little fly.”

The young man cradling the small of her back, pulls her closer and whispers directly into her ear, “You'll get no struggle from me, fair Spider. My only intention was to be caught in your web.” he spins her out and then inwards, catching her steady and making sure that his hands did not stray too low.

And since we've no place to go...

“You are as charming as you are talented, Mr. O’Shalna.” the corners of her eyes wrinkle with delight, "I can't wait to introduce you to father-- I'm sure he'll be here soon."

“Please, call me Avan.”

"I never imagined you to be so..." she thinks hard a moment as she lays her head on his shoulder, "...so human. And young...they said you were a holy man."

"Twenty," he assures her, "and I may be a minister of earth, Miss Spider, but I assure you, I am also... one...hundred...per...cent... " and then he finishes the sentence so quietly, she has no choice but to lean in. And when she does:

"Oh!" her cheeks flush a deep scarlet and she begins to giggle uncontrollably, ducking her head into his chest.

He looks down at her, and then upwards across the room to meet his brother's speculative gaze.

Verona Spider. The senator's daughter? Smooth. Very smooth. Ulrich finally allows his eldest brother a moment of peace by returning his timid smile with a smirk and approving nod. Lovable puff... As long as he's finally enjoying himself. She looks alright. Y'know for one of those techie girls, anyways... He turns and rubs his hands to eye the massive buffet of refreshments. A spread of jeweled berries and golden pine nectar on spotless white table cloth-- a new statement made by the city officials to honor their Fae guests.

Let it snow! Let it snow! Baby! Let it Snooooow!

"Hey. You're a Faerie boy."
"He's cute don't you think?"
"Shush Pim-- this was your idea!"

Ulrich turns slowly. Lips and chin already stained violet and red. His eyes widen, fearful. Three of them. There were three of them. Each dressed in red with golden ribbons pinned to the sides of their dresses. Were they supposed to look like presents? Gaia, forgive me

"Look at his face, Ada!"
"His cheeks are turning red!"
"Like a short wittle angel! Right Nini?"

Ulrich clears his throat, "Em' sorry my English is a little rusty... Ladies I am a wittle Faerie boy, so please go easy on m-- Uuurph!" and on to the dance floor he went. Whereabouts the triplets proceeded to have absolutely no mercy.

---

When we finally kiss goodnight.. Oooo-o-ooo, How I'll hate going out in the storm...
"You came? Ah, I thought you might..." Helen forces a grin and then crosses her arms over her shoulders.

"I came. Avan mentioned a good political opportunity for..." he paused and seemed to change his mind about something, "Do you dance?"

"Huh, me? Nah, I've got two left feet." she lied. She did dance and she was actually very good at it too. But for a reason she couldn't quite understand, she didn't want him to know. It had been another gap of a few months since she's last seen him. They had hardly spoke at all. Why would they? They didn't even know each other that well.

He looked very sharp in suit and tie."Right. Well, about that interview I still owe yo--"

"Forget it tiger," she holds up her hands apologetically, "tonight is booked back to back with news I've got to feature. It was pretty much the only way I was allowed in."

The fire is slowly dying... And, my dear, we're still goodbying...

"Alright. I'll leave you to it, then" he flashes her a smile and waves as he turns in the direction of the dance floor alone, "By the way Helen that dress; it's--"

The band swings up and really revs up the last line of the carol. The Pianist reaches up and grips the mic with both hands swells in a capella. And she briefly worries that Damien O'Shalna had just called her dress 'doable' or 'excusable' or worse 'use-able'.

But as long as you loooove me love me la-la-la-laaaa-huuu-vah me-ee so

Maybe. Just maybe... he said "beautiful".

Young Ulrich wobbles from the dance floor covered in lip-prints. He throws himself to lean against the wall next to her, breathing hard. Helen turns to look at him and is about to ask him if he would like some water. But before she can ask, he takes a good eyeball at the slit in her gown and says, "Helen, right? Nice dress." he adds, "Looks do-able."

Let It Snow! Let it Snow! O yes! Let It Snooooooow!

Episode 3

Less Timid Middles

She got through her interviews surprisingly fast. Or maybe it just seemed that way because she was drunk. The majority of the politicians she interviewed were one liners or snooze fests. With elections coming up, they were all too nervous or careful to be noteworthy. [Uh-huh. Yeah. Yep. Adult literacy? Yeah, that's real swell.] One notable exception was Senator Blake J. Spider: The entire time he seemed distracted with watching his daughter dance with some Fae; and then after about a minute he holds the 'mute' button and stops her mid-questioning with: "You are not a journalist, Miss Fenten. Your Stream holds it's value as an entertainment program so let's not get glib, shall we?" He pauses to take a sip out of his martini and then adds, "Enjoy the hors d'oeuvres..."

"Glib... Heh... We'll see who's glib..." Helen mumbles into her glass. She was at a resolve to drink; the entire party in her opinion was a little too high brow for her taste. Ball gowns. Jazz band. Caviar for snacks. Bunch of glibs, she fumes, and then snaps when a hand touches the back of her arm, "What do you want-- oh. Damien. Hi. Again." Does he notice how drunk I am? Better play it smooth. "Did I mention that suit looks glib. Good. Jesus, I meant good."

"You lied." he says flatly.

"I did?" Helen stares at him a confused, and then remembers, Ah, right...The dancing thing. "Let me make it up to you."

"Nah, I'll leave the twirling to Avan and Ulrich. Schmucks." whether it is a coincidence or intuition, he holds out an arm for her to grab on to, "Need air. You?"

Shit. He knows. "I'm not drunk."

"Relax." he smiles, "I am too."



It was difficult to part-- if only for a moment for the father-daughter dance --Verona Spider had exceeded his expectations. More than that, Avan loved her. The night was only half over and he loved her, passionately. Just as he knew he would. It was why he asked her to dance with him in the first place. He couldn't tell her this, of course-- not yet anyways -- but there were somethings in life he just knew. From the day his body was dug up from the bottom of Hemlock, it had been this way. Gaia whispered to him. It wasn't quite like the ability to tell the future, but it was close. He could just sense it in his gut when things were meant to be like nature had intended. Like the O'Shalna boy. Avan's chest tingles with fond memories. He remembers watching Damien stumble haggardly into his afternoon Botany seminar; dazed and confused. He knew right away to let him have his seat near the front and that offering him his personal copy of Folk scripture would be the right thing. Adopting Damien's city given name would be the right thing. Bonding to him as kin would be the right thing. Teaching him the ways of Gaia and principles of balance... it was remarkably more effortless than he could have ever imagined. Avan smiles warmly, "Ulrich."

"Yeah but did you know she's one of them techie girls? I didn't think so at first but then I asked her."
"Ulrich"
"And that's another thing- she's got one of them Streams too. God. He's an idiot."
"Ulrich"
"Avan"

The young man adjusts is tie and rolls up his sleeves before ladling nectar into a paper cone, "Calm down, will you?...'Sides..." says Avan lightly, "I think it's great he's making progress."

"I wouldn't say that Fenten girl is progress."
"I was watching you two earlier. She got you pretty hard, didn't she?"

There was a long pause before the boy answered, and when he did, it was grudgingly; he rubbed his cheek where he had been slapped by her "...yeah...she's wild..."

"You like her?"
"That obvious?"
"Painfully. But-- and I'm going to ask you this as a brother-- not your mentor. Let it go."
"Consider it left."

"I'm serious... they don't know it yet." Grabbing the back of his own neck Avan sighs and looks up, "But I know. I just know she's suppose to play a role in--" his eyes narrow and then he purses his lips as if he's said too much, "If you interfere Ulrich-- things might not pan out the way nature intended."

"Yeesh. I get it old man. Hands off the tiger's kill. You know he barely speaks to her?"
"He will. Give it time. If you let Gaia run it's own course, great things will come of it. Interfere and you'll be playing with fire."
"Fire, huh?"
"Yes. Fires that I might not be around to help you fan out."

Ulrich slugs him in the arm halfheartedly, "You say that as if you're not going to live forever."

"I might not..." The young man smiles sadly. "If I die. And really, I might; this Verona girl has already got me eating out of the palm of her hand. Take care of him. He's older. But you know better."
"I bet you told him the exact same thing"

[Avaaaaan-- cedar-bear--where are you? I want you to meet my sister!]

He pretends to not hear that but glances at his watch and says "Excuse me."

"Just what sort of holy man are you, mister?"

Avan takes a long hard sip from his cup, shakes his head, and then pats his younger brother on the shoulder, "Nature isn't celibate, little man. It is a wild and unrelenting force that eventually conquers everything in it's path. Remember that." they both look up as Verona Spider calls out again giggling and cooing from across the room, "As for the future Mrs. Avan O'Shalna...well...there are just somethings, Ulrich, that even I cannot teach you."




You'd have thought they were just a couple of kids having a moment in the snow; linebacker arms planted into the brickwork just above her head. Colgate. Weird that I already knew that... He wasn't much in the way of tongues, but she'd let that slide considering the circumstances. They were both half plastered and freezing their asses off. Not to mention scared shitless. At least she was.

"Fnrrg! Gnrrarrg snnruff snrah!"
"Urk! Urreh! Ssssst!"

She could feel her heart beating through the roof of her mouth-- O'Shalna must have felt it too, because in attempt to calm her he dragged her left hand through the opening in his coat over his heart. No. Not his heart. It was his knife. I am not surprised in the least. Their lips parted slowly. Very slowly. Eyes wide and tensed to move fast if they had to. The pair of them had been attempting 'deep' conversation for a while on the rooftop before hearing the noises below them. For Helen, it had felt similar to being caught at gun point with her pants down. A mixture of shock and terror so sudden, it left you dizzy and reeling.

"There it is again--did you hear that?" she exhales sharply at sound of footsteps scurrying below.
"Counted--Three, five maybe. They've got the damn building surrounded."
"O'Shalna. When you said you needed some air, I just thought you wanted to get a leg up out back."
"Here?" he said incredulous, "It's minus three out. And I didn't plan this."
"Details...Details..."

The sound of velcro being undone, snapping buttons, and the shhhink-shh of a serrated knife being pulled and pushed in it's hilt.

"Five. Don't look, they'll know we've spotted them."
"What are those things?"
"Goblins. Be quiet."
"Can't you just go tiger mode and--"
"Two things, Helen: (a).... I .... do not remember what (a) was... (b) Shut up. I'm still counting."
"But-" he places a palm over her lips and continues murmuring under his breath.
"Six, seven, eight.... shit .. eleven...?"

"Errr-ulg-sss-oosssah!"
"Roag--earp-ssss-laragh!!"

Goblin tongue is a hissing and horrible series of noises. It involves tongue clicking and guttural burping sounds:

"Roarg-glarknock-knock-ootah-don" (Hey Jim. How's it goin'?)
"Rrr-urgk-rot-rot!" (Get outta the kill zone, idiot! I told you to wait by the door!)
"Blegh-urp" (Gee, I'm really sorry. How's the wife and kids? Anyways, Hoss says we're going raid the building. Is that true?)
"Shh-sss-toomah-too-lakah!" (You stay away from my wife, Kyle. Yeah, we're going to blow this can of techie shit wide open.)
"ssssssssssssss-p-fffttalec!!!" (Golly, I dunno if I wanna hurt anyone Jim, it looks like there's some Fae in there too.)
"Nuzack-nuutah-kurrrr" (Too bad. What Hoss says, goes. Have you got your arrows ready?)
"oomah-oomahtoolag" (Yep, I sure do!)
"ssss-t-t-sssstug" (Good. Get back to your post, asshat.)
"Shakah-kurt-erpsss" (Merry Christmas, Jim!)
"Krrrulg-blert-bort-borgk" (If I don't see you again. At least die quietly.)

[To be continued...]

Tahl

Episode 1

Avan-Sol

Tahl rubbed his chin. It was a long one that required a bit of rubbing. “Can anyone tell me the importance of Gaia?” There were a few pipes of a flute and some hands. But he ignored them, “In the context of recent events.” a few hands went down and he waited. Slowly, he watched them from behind his oak stump-podium one by one lowering. All except one. “Dirk?”

A tall elven boy stood, towering pre-adolescent an impressive six feet over nine, “Avan-sol”

“In English” replied his professor. The boy looked around at his classmates, eyeing them each with a cool gaze, ‘ele zhal’la usstan’ he said, which Tahl roughly translated the western dialect as ‘Why should I?’. Tahl nodded, thoughtfully. He was not a harsh educator; minor insolence was tolerated so long as it was passionate. “I can wait for as long as it takes, Dirk Aearhil.”

It was another moment before the elf spoke, “Avan-sol” he began, “it means Avan’s whispered history. Gaia, is the Earth. Avan was her sig’nil-- her defender. Without Gaia, all of us will die.” the boy rammed his palms hard into the grass for emphasis. “The Sea Tigers will take his place.”

“Nay! The King!” a few pixies chanted, and cried out at Dirk. “Ulrich will protect us!” the elven boy did not look impressed.

“The Monarch of Ulrich? Oh aye, lovelies. But, I highly doubt the Boy King is going to stray far enough from his tree long enough to take action let alone exact vengeance.”

At once, they erupted into debate; a number of dialects and languages each professing their own vehement professions on the behalf for each faction. “SILENCE!!!” screamed one gnome. And by some miracle, they did. The high-pitched shrillness of a gnome often had this effect. “Now,” said the gnome, “Can’t you see? Sea Tigers. King Ulrich. It’s all the same side.” murmurings of grudging agreement at this, “Besides...both of them will fail. It’s obvious isn’t it? It is the Brotherhood that will strike first.”

Before anymore of his pupils could refute this Tahl spoke, “This rebellion,” using a hoof he drew out each faction crest in the dirt. An arrow a hammer with some water for the Sea Tigers, a spiraled leaf for Ulrich's Monarch. For the Brotherhood however, he left a blank space in the earth- for they had no sign. “This rebellion,” he began again, “is driven by three different schools of thought. Each with valid and supported views. But did you know, students-- pay attention please-- did you know that each faction is led by others not much older than yourselves? The Boy King, himself has only just begun to develop the abilities of our kind,” he raised a hand and paced the length of the circle formed by his students. He liked teaching outside. Things were more peaceful; the soft earth is much easier on a satyr’s old hooves. “Sea Tiger’s ferocious leader? Why, I should say he’s probably suffering from the same thing half of you are right. Now. At. This. Very. Moment-- Whimple! Hands off the pixie this instant. This is the last time I’m going to warn you”

“T’was only a kiss, sir, honest-- I mean if I were head of the Sea Tigers ‘misself, would I be twice as noble?”

Laughter.

Leprechauns, Tahl thought, were the least serious of all Fae. Their command of the human language- by far superior- was phrased in a riddle, or limerick that was best ignored. “As I was saying--”

“Rain!” someone shrieked.

The old satyr sighed. The class ending was ended before his point was made. He gathered his book and papers- half tempted to snack on a page or two, but thought his wife’s dinner gave him pause.

Lecturing them at this age. It was practically hopeless. And the humans really think that they have it bad—some inflamed skin and sprouting hair—BAH! Fae ‘puberty’ is by far worse. Just the other day his entire lesson plan was disrupted when--

“P-Professor?”

He glanced up, a page from today’s lesson plan already half chewed, “Mm-ph. Heh-hem. Yes? Nimmy, dear you look like you have something on your mind” The rain began to sprinkle a little harder and he gestured for her to walk with him into the denser canopy. Under there he could clearly see that it wasn’t just the rain on her face.

“Well, I... the Park... do you think...”

“Nimmy,” he said suddenly, fishing deep in his tweed jacket until he found a handkerchief, “Do you know the importance of Gaia?”

“Gaia is life.”

“It is” the old satyr agreed, “But Avan, was not her defender… I believe that Avan was Gaia.” His last words were drowned out by a sudden boom in thunder and lightning. He shielded himself from the flash of light in the distance and when he turned to the child once more she was already on her way.

“Thank’s a lot for the lesson today Professor! S-See you tomorrow!” she called from over her shoulder, her voice choppy from behind sheets of rain.

[The Fauxtrot]

Other Characters

I might have stacked the deck high, Mr. Spade, but this is your world too. Feel free to use or abuse anything in the toolbox below. This post will be edited to show characters that are playable by both of us. Bios and Status updates will be applied as the story progresses. If a character should graduate from minor to major, they will be deleted from this list and given their own CS. If you wish to submit a brief entry, submit in PM so that I can add it here without OOC getting messy.

Faerie

Faerie
*Enlightened suggests that the character is aware of Avan's death.
*Unenlightened means precisely the opposite.

Selene
Current Status: Alive and Unenlightened
Race: Elf
Bio: Best friend and body guard of Helen Fenten. Skilled in the art of knife throwing and possessing the rare ability to take on the forms of others, Selene is truly a force to be reckoned with. Her former ties with the Sea Tigers possibly have something to do with her cousin Alistar, however she has since shifted her alliance. Her reasonings for this are unknown, although her dedication and unrequited love for her Queen are certainly evident. That being said, can any shapeshifter really be trusted?

Tahl
Current Status: Alive and Enlightened
Race: Satyr
Bio: Professor at Central Forest University. At his core he believes in idealism. Emphasizing how human and faeire ideas—especially beliefs and values—shape the present society.

Nimmy
Current Status: Alive and Enlightened
Race: Dryad
Bio: A student at Central Forest University. She has the ability to generate large amounts of acidic saliva. Her bond with Ulrich and Avan are suggested to run deeper than they appear-- although to what extent remains to be seen. Currently in a critical but stable state within Ulrich's kingdom after managing to escape capture. She claims to have killed the thug Pineapple in self-defense. Her track record of convincing lies and subtle deceptions may make her story unreliable.

Hector Filbert Faust
Current Status: Alive and Unenlightened
Race: Orc
Bio: Ironically perhaps, with his indiscriminate killing, it could be argued that one Hector Filbert Faust is the least racist person in the story so far (albeit, his preferences for young females suggest sexism). He's in his mid thirties and is entirely indifferent to the brooding rebellion. Having chosen to take up residence within the city, Central Forest tends to house the majority of his despicable crimes. With murders against both Fae and human communities, Hector is left skilled in the art of cover ups and clean get aways. Ulrich alone took weeks to track him down; his latest attempt to escape from The Boy King has ultimately lead to their capture. It is said that because of his criminal status, he has ties with other shady characters.

Dirk Aearhil
Current Status: Alive and Enlightened
Race: Elf
Bio: An elf with no alignment but possess ties to both main factions. Some say he's not too bright, and he'll be the first to admit this-- although this isn't entirely correct. Dirk Aearhil's true problem lies within his own dwindling sense of self-worth. Recently, plagued with hallucinations of ghostly forms, he tends to lash out at seemingly inappropriate times. If it weren't for the fact that he could see beyond the veil of the physical realm, he might have followed his friend Thistle into Ulrich's hazy kingdom after being unceremoniously dropped from the Sea Tigers. Currently he secretly hopes that by aiding Damien and Helen-- he will be forgiven for his erratic outburst and reenlisted back into the Sea Tigers.

Thistle
Current Status: Alive and Unenlightened
Race: Sprite
Bio: A feisty sprite within Ulrich's Monarchy. Best friend and confidant to Dirk. Though her manner of phrasing isn't eloquent, she is wise and honest. She is left in charge by default as Ulrich, Helen and Selene have vanished.

Techie

Techie

Boss Lady
Current Status: Alive
Bio: Not much is known. Supposedly in charge of operation conducted on the night of Ulrich's kidnapping.

Gideon
Current Status: Alive
Bio: Not much is known about him so far, other than that he holds a position of authority. Last seen leading a cluster of vessels down Sea Tiger territory on the night of Ulrich's kidnapping. Working under Boss Lady's orders.

‘Nade cather + Pineapple
Current Status: Alive/Presumably Deceased
Bio: Two lower level thugs, of which Pineapple is presumably killed in the pursuit of the Dryad Nimmy.

Verona Spider
Current Status: Presumably Alive
Bio: The only known information is that she is the daughter of New York's senior senator. It is rumored that she had romantic ties with Avan.

Mrs. Fenten
Current Status:Alive
Bio: Helen's over protective mother, it was her idea for her daughter to move back in with her after the trauma caused by Avan's death. Despises Damien O'Shalna for what she calls a 'breach of trust'. Having always been closeted as a racist, her previous misgivings for him were in her mind justified when Helen vanished. As she hardly knows Ulrich, or anything about factions or the details of rebellion outside of news Streams, she tends to ignore facts, and nurses a growing hatred for Damien. Recently, it was revealed in an older voice message she has been seeing someone romantically.

Abby
Current Status: Alive
Bio: Helen's younger sister. She's infatuated with both O'Shalna brothers, typical techie kid on the bring of emancipation [nearly 18 years of age]. She's known to be gullible and easily manipulated.

[Spade]

Just wanted to make a quick post regarding Tyrus' Gnomish accent. When I think Tyrus, I totally think of Sharlto Copley's Kruger from Elysium. Now he's not homicidal like the character of Kruger, but the intensity and craziness in his voice is what I want to emphasize. Not all gnomes have this accent, Windsor the scientist is very much well spoken and New York, but Tyrus comes from a traditional kind of rural gnome family, which are few and far between.

Here's a shitty video so you can listen in on what I want him to sound like,

[The Fauxtrot]

Clip One of Three Two from the Blue Lion...

Play

Time: 0002

[A picture cuts on to pan around the inside of a metal room, patches of ice and shelves of frozen animal carcasses gives the suggestion of someplace freezing. The size indicates an industrial meat locker. The camera continues to pan slowly in a full circle, then stops to train on the corpse of a young man. It zooms in slowly to show that he is chained and suspended from a hook in the ceiling. He hangs motionless between the body of two hollowed out pigs... A large spatter of blackish blood sticks frozen to the wall behind the body and his red hair is shown to be caked with frost. The camera zooms in tighter to his face, capturing the graphic details of open wounds and two blackened eyes; Ulrich stares unblinkingly with blue lips parted.]

"Thank you Hector, please realize that you did the right thing by agreeing to provide us with information."

[The camera pans back quickly to the opposite side of the room. Two figures. A man, whose face is blurred out; a large Orc, who huddles under a quilt and cradles a steaming mug.]

"Make sure he's bound tight. I don't want that kid escaping and then coming after m--"

"Any colder, and he really will die. We can't have that...Would you like anything to eat, Mr. Faust? Apologies for earlier, had we known you were so willing to cooperate we would have had something prepared for you."

"I want him tortured some more. Break his will, make it so that he screams again. Ice em' to the neck."
"We can assure you that the O'Shalna boy is no threat to you in this state. Your suggestion of placing the Will-O-Wisp in a cooler worked nicely."
"I guess. Aye, how cold would you say it is in here?"
"The temperature is well into the negatives. You are safe Hector."
"Sure you can't get it any colder than that?"
"We're sure. Now Mr. Faust, can you tell us what you and your friends were doing out by the waterways?"
"I was on Kingly orders, sir. Just doin' what I was told."
"I see. There was another person with you according to Mr. Nade'catcher... Can you tell us where they are, now?"
"You mean to tell me that's his actual name?"
"Focus, Hector."
"Yeah. There was a girl with us-- she escaped back into his little tent kingdom, though."
"And, how do we gain access to Ulrich's kingdom?"
"Only when The Path reveals itself to you--"
"Everyone is aware of that-- but how do we get it to appear for certain?"

"Beats me." [Faust shrugs as he takes a sip from his mug and then points lazily to something off camera] "Ask him...Careful though, he looks pissed."

[ The image blurs with motion as the camera swings back to it's previous position; Ulrich's body is shown to be missing. The lens of the camera tightens, as if curious, on the ground below. A puddle of iron lay steaming. A cameraman screams off frame and the angle shifts sags at an angle that now captures pairs of feet being lifted from the ground. Loafers and sneakers are shown to be engulfed in blue flame, and then socks, and then skin.... and finally bone...Shadows flicker against the wall and icicles from the tips of hooves begin to drip and sizzle as they hit the ground. Several minutes pass before a black, powdery substance begins to pour center-shot. Orc feet shuffle into view and then fidget slightly. A moment passes followed by heavy breathing. The fleeting image of a ghostly figure on fire passes in front of view. Hector's own legs take a step backwards. At this point, the camera lens fogs over with steam as the audio continues to role...]

"Nice work warming it up--any longer and my outtie would have been an innie --woah-- slow down, Torch. Remember our deal. You still need me."

"I haven't forgotten, Faust--" [There is a hissing punch thrown off camera and Hector groans.] "The freezer idea was passing. But next time, hold off on all suggestions of torture, will you?"

"Hurrnnph... I had to make it seem real, didn't I? ...Urgh- that burns....and you've just set off the fire alarm... I don't suppose you have a plan to get us out of here?"

"I don't. My fire won't hold outside this place, either."

"Excellent. When's lunch?"

[The sound of loud knocking accompanied by shouts of concern and inquiry. Hector can be heard laughing maniacally, as the sound of crackling flames eventually drowns out the rest of the audio.]

[Phhhhhhssss....Shhhhh....]

Play two

The woman in black seems unaware of her being recorded, her gaze is fixed downwards and she sings gently, "I love you more than sugar. More than air. More than anything can compare. My sweet precious pear." Slowly, she drags her gaze upwards and into the camera. Verona Spider, stares quietly a moment before speaking. Her gaze is hypnotic in the way that they were not her own humdrum, brown human eyes. They churned instead with something that was even more familiar. Azure, cobalt, sapphire all lapsing into waves of murky cerulean. The sea, the lake, rivers, clouds, glaciers, rain, all aspects of the water were represented in some hue of another. These were not her eyes.

These were the eyes of Avan O'Shalna.

"Damien...Helen...what I am about to tell you is for your eyes and ears only." It takes her a few moments until she's able to manage it, but finally she stands up. The folds of her blouse is dragged taught by gravity and her pregnant belly sags awkwardly as she begins to pace the length of the room. Both knees wobble precariously as if she is still unused to the new physics of her body.

Pressing both hands into the small of her back, she sighed deeply; a tired and weighty sound that translated through hologram as static haze. "I've missed you both very much, and Ulrich t-too..." her eyes ripple as if real seawater were about to spill over on to her cheeks, Verona stops herself and then shakes her head, "Sorry...I'm just a little emotional these days...After Daddy found out about my pregnancy he shipped me out of state. To Texas. Texas of all places. Can you believe it? He's going to run for president soon but he can't even stand the sight of his own daughter." a low hiccup and she continues, "Helen I'm sorry for leading you on like this, but I had to make sure that I wasn't being traced."

The image on the hologram shifts and pans around a crowded street, where people are holding up signs like "Tree? Beats Me!" and "New York HATES Tree Shaggers". Fire hydrants and water fountains rattled with some uncertainly. Storm clouds gather and swirl with pent up anger. Three figures stand atop the steps of city hall. Two of them tall. One short. It takes a moment for the image to focus before one realizes that this is a recording that had taken place almost a year ago. Avan, flanked by both brothers, was addressing the crowd, talking over the low murmur. This was the day New York had cast it's deciding vote that peoples of more than one-seventh's Fae blood could not possess the right to vote in state or federal issues.

"Fae is less a race than it is a metaphor for a political circumstance subscribed by struggles against economic exploitation and cultural domination: a state of consciousness that peoples of various races have experienced. Undeserved, because it is well known that since the dawn of existence, Man and Faerie kind have intermingled. The ridiculous notion of racial superiority and sticking to one's own race is only a few hundred years old. What I am trying to say dear Brothers and Sisters, is that we are all Earth's children.

Julius Caesar, Napoleon Bonaparte, George Washington were all documented with some amounts of orc blood--- however with the exception of perhaps, Napoleon who was rumored to be Gnomish. We know this. We know this and we have granted Fae the rights to marry. We have granted them the right to a fair and speedy trial. Yet the great state of New York will not grant us the right to vote? Brothers and Sisters if Faeries are not allowed to vote, then by definition nobody should have the right to vote. There is magic in everyone's veins-- why discriminate by drops and ounces? Why persecute those of us who may look different or those of us who possess the abilities of our ancestors?

Brothers and Sisters we are on the brink of a revolution! A revolution that has been building in the pit of our souls for generations. Do not fear the growing vines, the ever tangling roots. Do not fear your restless cattle. Fear the locusts! Fear the encroaching concrete-- because it is America Incorporated that will be the death of you. Not trees which bear you fruit. But the city of locusts! The hive mind of greed with enslaves you with convenience!"

The image shimmers and winks out of existence before blinking back to Verona's face. "Do you remember that day? I do. Daddy was in such a rage." Her face lights up with delight and in her giggling, she gives a little snort. "Listen. We are going to get Ulrich back. And we are going to beat these sons of bitches at their own game. It's not going to be easy." she warned, "But if all we can do is at least make a small dent in our lifetimes, that will have been all Avan wanted us to do. Right now we live for the pride our children will feel when they invoke our names to the future generations. Change is brewing." For emphasis, she grabs her own belly "Damien. Unlike Ulrich, you are able to inhibit Avan's rage in order to bring justice to your kind. You are Gaia's sword-- and for now, you are Avan's only living, and breathing example of what it takes to shake this city and it's inhabitants to it's very foundation--" she winces and then staggers backward, reaching around behind her Verona then collapses back into her leather oxblood chair, "Sorry... I get carried away." she rubs her belly, "Hopefully, Damien your little nephew will be able to hold down the front lines with you soon enough." she adds in a small whisper, "Helen, don't let em' get you tied down, fae-babies do some freaky things to a girl..."

"As for Ulrich... I only know as much as Avan would tell me. But he spoke of Ulrich discovering him as a boy. I believe that dryad Nimmy would know more about this.... but as I understand it Avan is all Ulrich knows." she purses her lips as if straining to articulate her meaning, "They were both just boys without parents. Avan was a little older so he became not only his brother.. but like a father figure. Damien you grew up thinking you were human. That must have been very confusing and difficult. But Avan's death has given you strength and fuel--- while Ulrich...he... he's in complete denial." she frowns, "I know you two are sometimes at odds, but you have to realize he's never known anything else. He's never been anything else, but a Fae. I'd be willing to bet you're the only one who can make him see reason."

The walls of the room emit a high pitched screech and zzzzzshhhhh as previously unseen paneled sections depress and flip. Weapons. Guns. Swords. Bows. Axes. Smoke pellets-- contraptions that looked too complicated to prove useful. Keys to what looked like army tanks, and fighter jets. Models of hoverboards that hadn't even been released yet, communicators, preserves, shields. Rows and rows of modern and streamlined Sea Tiger uniforms... Enough for a small army.

"Damien and Helen? Say hello to several billion in taxpayer money. We are not only going to rescue Ulrich. We are going to grab who ever did this to my brother-in-law, by the balls and we are going to make em' sing." she finishes off in a southern drawl and mumbles something about the Texas accent being 'catchy'. "There are a group of humans who Ulrich and I believe are behind the recent Goblin attacks. Somewhere below this hotel is the entrance to the underground Goblin territories. Get in, get out, and we can get back on track to realizing Avan's drea--"

Pfffftt-sshhhh

"I've got a better idea, Verona." A man's face, fuzzes and then flickers crisp on screen "How about, Damien his little girlfriend here, along with everyone in this whole fucking hotel along with the first fifty feet of it's foundation explodes into a million little pieces?" he chuckles delightedly, and then claps "My wish I could see the looks on your faces... oh wait! I can!" he is in hysterics now, "I've got cameras everywhere! Ahhhh... but forgive me. You see, I have not properly introduced myself."

"You may call me Gideon."

"And since Ulrich and that delinquent Orc has somehow managed to escape our custody, I am going to give you a fighting's chance to save him and yourselves. How about that, yes? Splendid. Now." he smiles cheerfully, "No doubt you will find Ulrich somewhere in the tunnels below, but remember little ones, I've got the first fifty feet rigged to blow-- you will convince the Goblin Don to give us access to the underground lake. And, annnnnd as an added bonus, you will also convince Ulrich to tell us how he get's that wonderful 'Path' of his to appear. You have three days to accomplish this modest favor."

He gives a little wave and then the image shrinks into non-existence.

[It's such a shame that all that firepower will go to waste in the explosion...I just found a satisfactory image of Verona]

Verona Spider

Shown without her normal eye color.

[The Fauxtrot]

The Goblin Family of New York

As always, Mr. Spade, you are free to negotiate on the details. Otherwise, you can forgettaboutit. Capish?

Goblins are among the most homogeneous species alive today mostly likely due to their grotesque appearance and refusal to completely assimilate into modern day societal norms. However, few cultures exist in complete isolation, and it is all but inevitable that a society will be impacted by other groups, either by trade, religious missions, conquest, or some other form of communication. In the case of Goblins, it is rumored to have started when copy of Francis Ford Coppola's "The Godfather" ended up being washed down a storm grate.

Appearance

Culture

An Overview of the Underground

Unlike Giants, Trolls, Banshees, and most of the vicious Orc sub-types, Goblins have managed to survive and even thrive in spite of human attempts at eradication. They've adapted by developing a tight knit secretive societies underground called 'Families'. The State of New York is home to one of the largest Goblin communities in the United States. Texas being the largest overall.



Italian American Roots

It wasn't until the early 1970s that Goblins of New York found anything of interest to do with human culture or ways of life. There was a large language gap and discrimination perpetuated from both sides. That all changed when copies of The Godfather began to circulate among the population. The phenomenon spurred an entire cultural revolution and as tribes became united and organized as the years when by.Today, Goblins speak broken Italian-English aside from their own garbled native tongue, enjoy Italian food, and styled their own government after the mafia template.

Drug Economy

Because of relatively pure bloodlines and strong tendencies to exclude outsiders, Goblin magic is said to be among the most potent of the modern day Folk. However as a drawback to their dependency, their technology is several decades behind. With limited skills in all areas to make their society functional they have turned to making and distributing drugs laced with trace amounts of magic. The revenue received in turn is used for items like clothing and food etc. and redistributed equally among them through the Goblin Mafia.

Politics

While largely indifferent to political views and ideology outside of their own, it is said that their support of Avan and ties with The Ulrich Monarchy are the only real political motivators. This is largely in part why the state of New York is hesitant to grant voting rights to Fae. If inclined the entire Goblin population will vote united one way.

There are whispers of unrest within the mob. Seeds of doubt planted from an outside source...though no one seems to know anything about nothin' when confronted. There have been several accusations of Goblins being used as hitmen on Fae and even in line with the murder of Avan. The Don is currently investigating the matter quietly while delivering a swift and speedy hit on whoever dares accuse him outright.

Clan Hierarchy

Goblin Mafia Overview

A clan is led by a "Don" (Boss or Hoss), who is aided by and supervised by one or more advisers (consigliere). Under his command are groups (decina) of about fifty to a thousand "soldiers" (pack or troop). According to a rough census, there is one main Goblin Family in the state of New York with a total of at least half a million to a million full members.

The boss of a clan is typically elected by the rank-and-file soldiers (though violent successions do happen). A Don's tenure is also frequently short: elections are yearly, and he might be deposed sooner for misconduct or incompetence. The underboss is usually appointed by the boss. He is the boss' most trusted right-hand man and second-in-command. If the boss is killed or imprisoned, he takes over as leader.

The consigliere ("counselor") of the clan is also elected on a yearly basis. One of his jobs is to supervise the actions of the boss and his immediate underlings, particularly in financial matters (e.g. preventing embezzlement or internal fraud). He also serves as an impartial adviser to the boss and mediator in internal disputes. To fulfill this role, the consigliere must be impartial, devoid of conflict of interest and ambition.

Other than its members, The Goblin Mafia makes extensive use of "associates". These are people who work for or aid a 'Family' but are not treated as true members. These include corrupt officials and various other street thugs. An associate is considered by the mob nothing more than a tool, someone that they can "use", or "nothing mixed with nil."

Modern Traditions

Most Notable and Continuing Practices

Blood Vows

Goblins are known for their stringent views on heritage and family ties. Blood is incorporated into most aspects of rites and ceremonies and most specifically the concept of respect. A blood pact is made when parties involve make small or large (depending on the importance or meaning of the pact) cuts on the hands and exchange blood through and open wound. Violation of a Blood Vow is considered the highest form of disrespect and is usually seen as act of war.

Goblin Lake

An underground body of water that acts as a place of ceremonial execution. Whether the lake is poisonous, magical, cursed, or otherwise-- one this is for certain: Whatever goes into the lake, doesn't come out. Water taken from the lake, however is said to be used in the making of drugs (The Don will neither confirm nor deny this fact)

Testing for 'Respect Points'

This tradition draws upon older tribal eras where Goblins often fought to the death in order to pick a chief. Today however it is used much more often as a means of initiation or to win an audience with The Don. Goblins will hold a test (usually one that targets a specific area of skill such as, Speed, Strength, Agility, or Spiritual Awareness) for outsiders and insiders. However these contests are most often rigged or stacked against outsiders resulting in a number of harsh consequences. It is most often agreed that should one consider entering into a Goblin challenge, to negotiate details beforehand. Otherwise, by tradition the winner may demand the loser's execution.