Mokley

Moonfiend

Woohoo! Posts!

I'm actually halfway through writing a post and I am about to pass out, haha. I really want everyone to have something substantial to do or decide. I might have to finish this up in the morning if it's going to be at all decent. x.x

Moonfiend

Who's working on a post? You guys waiting on me? ;D Mod post tomorrow guys! Or tonight even!

Closed for now! Thanks! :D

@Carantathraiel haha aww! I'm actually constantly here because I mod group rps, but 1x1 has to be as separate from that as possible or it feels like work. It's a mental thing.

Unquiet

@Wishful Stray that's pretty damn epic. Approved. :)

I wonder if any of the pc witches here might be able to help with that curse!

Lantern

Peck's eyes narrowed, and he balled his fists and shifted his scrawny weight. He still hesitated, caught between his orders to let no one pass and the fact that he could be stopping the one person who could save them all.

He stared into the blue light of the Lantern, and he stared into the dark eyes of Anise's mask, particularly aware of Reus' bared fangs in the corner of his eye. He knew that no was not an option -- and the Witch had not stopped them at the border. The Witch might be dead for all he knew.

Anise only had one Lantern so far. There was time -- but not much.

Peck nodded once in reluctant agreement. "All right." At the same moment, he made a sign with his hand and the gryphon suddenly flung itself into the air, spun over the lake, and flapped furiously toward the mountain. Peck never took his eyes off of Anise. "This way."

He stepped toward the dead white tree, cast another uncertain look at Anise, then began to climb. The bark was twisted and cracked, full of handholds and small branches, but the ascent was nearly vertical.

"Why don't you look the same as the other Lords and Ladies?" he called back to her as he hoisted himself up onto another branch. "The Lord of the Flame is a bright bastard, and the Lord of Shadow is like smoke. The Lady of Stone actually is a boulder, I think. But you still look like . . . not like one might expect." He clambered nimbly along the twisted bark. "Is it because you've just been reincarnated? After what happened to the last Lady of Light, I mean."

Eventually he stopped, poised between two narrow branches near the top of the tree. He knocked on the solid bark. Inside, it was ticking.

"It's here," he announced. "It's been inside the trunk here for a hundred years. My sword won't break it out, if that's what you're thinking."

The blue Lantern could confirm that its counterpart was indeed inside the tree, at the spot where the pirate was perched.

---

"Three…two…"

"Oy!" The scrawny boy in the cat-mask burst out of the leaves above, frowning deeply. "Don't mess with tha iron things, right? Poke somebuddy's eye out." He jammed his thumb into the eye hole of his mask and stuck out his tongue at Artemis.

At the same time, the little mouse-masked girl had snuck up behind Artemis in absolute, profound silence. She reached for Artemis' pockets, intending to pilfer them for anything and everything to be found -- but the rabbit mask alerted Artemis straight away to the girl's presence.

"How'd you get Ty's mask then, ay?" the boy went on in a yowling voice. "That ain't yours, I know it ain't." He dangled his head upside-down in the dark, just out of Artemis' reach. "You a pirate? We sic trees on pirates. Chomp! Chomp!"

Meanwhile, the gryphon had heard them clearly. It perked its feathered ears and trotted close to the border between the Witch's property and the cluster of fireflies that surrounded Artemis and the Kith. The gryphon sat down at the border, staring at them with big gleaming eyes, its tufted tail thumping happily in the grass.

The pirate continued to struggle with the ruined saddle, muttering and hissing to himself.

Unquiet

@Wishful Stray Of course! :D

Moonfiend

Oh dear, you guys really must take care of yourselves! Tea and sleep! Please feel better soon! :)

Moonfiend

@MsChimeric Hmmm well you could do that while everyone else is dealing with the crisis downstairs haha! The surgery-robot will help! We could also just ignore the flow of time for stuff like that. ;)

Unquiet

@Mokley safe to assume the girl is Pigeon? :P

@Crucible

Haha yes, quite safe. She is indeed Pigeon. xD

Unquiet

The hollow stone spaces echoed with the mechanical churns, groans and hisses of steampowered machines. Rain pattered on the vaulted roof, trickled down the cracks in the walls and pooled on the rippled mossy floor. The voice sang and lilted mournfully, distant and ethereal.

Rose was absent of any witching supplies, but she was already forming a mental checklist of what she would need to find. First would come logs and kindling, supplies for a fire. Something to serve as a cauldron, then reagents. Roots, moss, plants, and much more. And then the supplies needed for the dark arts, chiefly finger bones and blood. The bones of the dead held a special power, the bones of the finger in particular.

Trees grew just outside the open doorway of the Stone, drenched in rain -- but wood might more conveniently be found in the oldest of the coffins, brittle and cracked and filled with the dry bones of convicts who had not been so lucky. A recess in the wall behind the hot boiler was hung with shelves full of gears and machine parts, including some that might makeshift readily as pots.

She meandered towards the corridor from which the voice echoed. As she drew near she finally called out, "Hello? Who is that? A friend, I would hope."

The singing suddenly stopped. The only sounds were the voices of the newly-awoken and the churning and hissing of machines.

It was then that Adamar heard the soft melody of a hum in the distance. Of course others would have awoken before him, and surely there will be more to awake afterwards. If he was to secure himself in this horrid place, he needed to act now. He secured his mask around his face, and made his way down the corridor.

The corridor stretched dark and long, away from the churning crypt of the Stone, deeper into the mountain. At the far end of the corridor was a bright light, like sunlight -- though it was clear by the broken ceiling of the crypt that it was raining outside.

Halfway down the corridor sat a stone statue of one of the Old Gods: a perching winged beast that had a humanlike body, the tail of a scorpion, and seven snakelike heads that swarmed and bared their stone fangs. It was illuminated in haunting silhouette against the light from the end of the corridor.

The statue faced a heavy reinforced door, padlocked.

Another noise resounded out of the bright room at the end of the corridor: a heavy crack, the low huff and grunt of a large beast, and the skiff and skid of heavy footsteps and something dragging against stone.

A huge silhouette blocked out the light at the end of the corridor, and a great ugly ogre stooped to peer through the arched doorway. It sniffed noisily and growled deep in its throat; it smelled something peculiar, but its eyes were too weak to make out what it might be. The ogre was too large to squeeze through into the corridor, so it remained within the bright room, its attention fixed on the smell of flesh and the sound of foreign voices.

Thadeus thought of saying something, but was caught off guard as another voice spoke, he couldn’t quite figure out where this voice was coming from at first glance. it seemed to be coming from above, but some vines covered his view of the figure. He decided to wait a bit before making his presence known, slowly making his way closer to them, not saying anything yet.

Remembering that she was in the stone, a place full of murderers, rapists, psychopaths, and dark magic users, Genevieve regretted announcing her presence at all. She wondered if she could hide, before anybody tried to kill her.

While Rose's voice filled the cavernous room in verbose greeting -- and while the others began to gather around her -- Genevieve might notice a quick-moving shadow along the uppermost level of coffins. Just as quickly it disappeared into one of the pigeonhole recesses in the wall.

A little girl was suddenly standing beside Thadeus.

She had short dark hair, almond eyes and sweeping horns atop her head. She was dressed in a coarse smock, and she held a squirming white rabbit in her hands. The child stared up at Thadeus absently, blinking, as if waiting for him to tell her what to do.