LadyRunic — Roleplayer Guild

 Samhain Intrigues 

-Location: Under the Mountain-

The not-man sighed almost forlornly at Yin's refusal to hand over Melinda. "A shame, kitsune. We could have had a good round of fun with that one." He eyed the entire group of humans and smiled. A cruel and cold smile. One that Yin would recognize from wearing it himself from time to time. Reaching around the struggling human male her held, he slid a hand down the man's bare chest to the middle of his waist. Making well sure that the humans would be able to see what was about to happen. Yin would possibly see a glimmer over the creature. Revealing it to Fae eyes as an Attor. A creature that to a mortal would much resemble an Alien or Xenomorph with bat like wings. The humans would see long claws where a normal fingernails once were. 

Then... they ripped upwards.

The man screamed a horrible cry that echoed in the streets. The distant sounds of roars and answering shrieks from creatures answered. Mortals long since learned screams helped so very little. Those that still screamed- lost the voice to do so very quickly. His guts spilled out and across the grounds. The man would have fell but the man- Fae- continued to hold him up. Watching the reactions of those humans across from him. Many who also screamed, or moaned, in shock and horror. "What a pathetic waste of flesh. I'll have to replace him for my Mistress." The Attor noted as if such a thing was commonplace. Which- Under the Mountain- it was. Turning about he smirked and stalked away. 

The crowd of Fae that gathered closing the path they had made for him. Slowly the offers starting being shouted out to the kitsune- Falk's general. Offers ranging from coin, to company. Trades of mortal or other fae for mortal. Criticisms about the kitsune and his- weakened blood. Whispers leaked through the offers as well...

"It's the kitsune. The Withered King's Aid."
"He's [the kitsune] loosing his edge."
"The Hound of Uthar will perish soon enough."
"I will take his place- serve the Fallen King."
"Kiron won't like the High Lord coming about."
"The humans will be easy to manipulate."

The Fae spoke and whispered, their words haunting the streets and leaving no clear person as the speaker. Whispers of the Fall King, of weaknesses in the ruling power. Trouble had been brewing Under the Mountain for decades. Slowly it was coming to the surface in small bubbles and pockets of displeasure. They wanted more power, more mortals. Less of the hand of the High Lord upon them. The Generals of Falk would know their Lord had been thinking and acting upon the problem as he could. If Falk over reacted then they would cry injustice. If he was too weak, rebels would become all the more encouraged. It was a deadly dance of politics both Seelie and UnSeelie played. Though each in their own different ways. But among the gathered crowd the small whispers of rebellion and resentment were present. Not something that was overly uncommon Under The Mountain. For these fae liked to rule themselves and despised the interference of their rightful Lord.

Faeril Ashkevron

Location: Hayll
Snaketooth Counter: 24 days left

Faeril Ashkevron sat at a table and sipped at the ale she had found on a patron who had exited during their little freeze out. Disgusting, but she was fortifing herself against what she was about to do. A clear warning than whatever Isadora was plotting against this fool. Her wings had spread to their full width as she gazed with a glacier calm into the drink. Looking up as she heard footsteps approach. Isa looked gleeful at her work, informing her that this Consort would turn his life to shambles. Nodding slowly she rose and moved to the stairs. "One last thing, a little against what I would normally do... But I want to make sure the message is clear- in evidence." She stated quietly, walking into the room containing the passed out Consort. 

He looked rather innocent there, a lie lying before her. What she was doing was going to cause problems. But that was her patient. Her duty was to heal. More than that, this male and his mistress was going to harm her patient. Something she wasn't about to allow. Drawing a dagger, she raised her arm and struck. A burst of power searing where his ringed finger once was to stop the bleeding. The finger falling into the sheets, the ring still fitted about it's base. Laying her fingertips against the man's head she ripped into his mind. One last thing, one last little twist in the webs of life. Her power find a slight strand of thread and slowly reforming it to her liking- and his disliking. Not a dislike, a aversion. A nightmare was forming. Oh, he would be a Isadora made him. Arrogant to the extreme, ruining his own life. But she slowly seeded the thoughts that this Sadist, this Dujae SaDiablo was to be obeyed. Deferred to. A fitting touch against his originally mockery.

Giving a cruel smile, she picked up the finger with the ring attached and tossed it into the fire place. Let it burn, she decided. Exiting the room she wiped the dagger off on the bed sheet and walked pass her fellow Widow. Linking her arm in the younger's, Faeril sighed in annoyance. Leading them both from the Inn. "What did you find in his-?" Slim fingers flickered as to fill in the last word of 'mind'. Leading the fellow Widow towards the exit of the city and the Wind that would take them to her own home where a irate Eyrien male most likely waited. It would not do to stick about this diseased city, the people were most certainly not to her liking. A Black Widow with a fraying temper was not something she wished to reveal to the world. "And lovely work, my dear, as always. Will you be staying about long, I believe Gen would be happy to see you. He's going to be rather hard to live with due to my little outing." A understatement. Gen would be furious that she went to Hyall and alone. While he couldn't go, he would have insisted that she call up one of his brothers to escort her. Something she was loath to do. Two of them were pranksters and had tried to shove her in a box when her friend's clan had been helping her stock up for a bad winter a few years back. She was a grown woman and not a little child to be mocked! Irritating boyos. Faeril was unaware of the small smile that graced her hardened face. The thoughts of those innocent times lightened her mood.

Gen Saroth

Location: Forest

Gen nodded slowly as he listened to the now apparently young mare speak. Summer, with the Summer jewel. A fitting name, he thought. But then the Kindred were rather straight forward with such things. Generally. The Warlord hadn't expect her to speak mind to mind, but he should have seen it coming Gen scolded himself. Shaking his head in amusement over the fact that scolding voice sounding a lot like Faeril at her most exasperated. Which made perfect sense seeing as how often he did hear her exasperated with his 'helping'. Fae wasn't one to enjoy someone's help or affections easily. She'd squall and squawk with insults, but not mean a word. Then the minute you got hurt, the little woman would be there demanding that you get better or else. His eye gleamed with humor. It was when she actually said something positive to another person about actually enjoying their company and not being gruff about it that you could be assured. It would take more than a mountain to stop that woman from helping or being there for those she cared about that deeply! 

Moving his thoughts back to the present problem, he lightly patted her shoulder, he spoke still using that calming tone with a boyish glee and grin. Something to make the mare feel at ease. "Lady Summer, then. Hope you don't mind bedding down in the tool shed? It's made for wings, so you'll fit. Just till I get down to the village and bully some of my kin out of straw floor will be a tad hard." His voice was rather apologetic about this fact. "It's got a fireplace so it'll be warm enough... Eh, you'll need anything else? My knowledge of horses is a tad limited." Embarrassment colored his voice and his eyes. He really didn't know overly much what she might need, and honestly wanted to ease the mare's time among them. For a burly Eryien the man had a good heart. Picking the abused abuser of a male and tossing him over his shoulder, he gestured that Summer follow. "And you, fool, get to talk to a Black Widow friend of mine. Ol' Scapel Tongue, as I call her. Don't worry, you'll probably get a nice long chat before she gets creative." Gen gave a mockery of a evil laugh. Though he winked charmingly at the mare. "Lets just hope, between you and me buddy, she doesn't get in her head to give you a good shave. Or feed you to her Sisters." Turning about he walked towards his cabin, offering to the mare that she might accept his shield so they could ride a Wind back.

Ravyn Ghosteye

Location: Hyall

The looks people gave her didn't bother the brat over much as she raced to escape. People were jerks at the best of times, savage at the worsts. If they were from or in Hyall? Savage was the best she could and would hope for. Hearing a cry behind her, she sped up realizing she was being ran after. This caused the small girl to bump into a man, who shoved her away. Staggering to the side and into a alley. She stumbled losing the rhythm of her running, and fell. Hitting the ground, she tumbled for a second before struggling to get her legs back under her to run on. This split second of breathless desperation led her to look back and notice the glacian man. Who most certainly was not the slaver or the Black jeweled man. Her panic eased some though not overly much. A male was still a male.

Tugging her hat low over her golden eyes, a gift from her unknown father, and dusty hair. A attempt to disguise the silver coloring of the Dea Al Mon. Something that would gain her odd looks from those surprised and looks she would rather avoid from those who wanted what she had. Trying to deepen her voice, Ravyn glowered at the well dressed aristo. "Aint nothin' happened, Sir. Some idiots tweakin' the tail of someone they ought not 'ave." She answered gruffly, standing up and hurrying on. Not running this time, but trying to fast walk away. Maybe he would take it as that and let her go on her merry way. But greed was thick with her now and thrice lucky was a thing... She brushed by the man, giving him a sharp shove with her shoulder. Risky, but she was the Procurer! She was a risk taker! Especially as her hand subtly grabbed onto his purse and pulled it from him when she shoved him. Another step and she was about to take off. The man's purse with her, and he clueless. Or that was the idea.

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