Eamon eyes Brian suspiciously. "Choose what?"
Brian considers Megan awhile, then shrugs at Eamon. "Choose whether or not we go back."
The fog that has been a persistent accoutrement of the Grotto of late is conspicuously absent this evening.
Eamon's jaw sets. "Is there really a choice to make?" he asks, then sweeps his gaze around to his pack members.
Stranger does not appear in any vulgar fashion, but simply happens to be there, leaning gracefully against a tree. "Your fortnight of fun is over. Shall we proceed to the greater game, my friends?"
Player Name On For Idle Doing
Stranger 00:21 7s WhichOnceUntangledMuchMisfortuneBodes
Megan's eyes snap over to the newcomer, and fury springs to her expression. It appears that she's biting back a reply.
l stranger
A tall, lithe figure that moves like a banner rippling in the wind stands here as though this space were honored by the presence. Sharp angled cheekbones in a delicately framed face the color of heavy cream are set off by a tumbling mass of dark red hair and a fine-lined, promising mouth with a lopsided secret smile. It is hard to tell at first whether this creature is male or female, but the breadth of the shoulders and the arch of the auburn eyebrows cast the vote in favor of him. The inhuman beauty of his face and the conscious sinewy grace with which he moves are contrasted and highlighted by the slight disproportions of his features, the sharp lines of his fingers, and the flash of truly unnatural green eyes, tilted slightly at the corners.
A heavy velvet cloak, black with shadows of green, provides a dramatic background for a mist-grey silken tunic and heavy gold Celtic jewelry.
The curve of his mouth seems always to be enjoying some subtle witticism, but shows no inclination to share.
Eamon's hand comes out of his pockets along with the stump of his arm, unconsciously flexing the hand into a fist. "Please," he snaps out with irritation.
Steven simply snorts, staring a hole through the leaf in his hand.
Brian may be the only one who looks pleased to see him, then, eh? He climbs to his feet, grinning again, and heads toward him, leaf in hand. "We're ready," he says eagerly. "I've been practicing."
Stranger gives Brian a brilliant, knee-weakening smile. "Excellent! I invite you, then, to our Hall, where we shall play the hosts." He flicks one hand out with a magician's flourish, and the world tilts sideways.
Great Hall
It is a vast hall, resounding with talk and music. The ceiling is studded with twinkling lights, and high enough that it might even be a sparkling, clear, night sky. Torches shed shadows across the room, flickering over faces and finery of all shapes, sizes, and descriptions. Perfectly synchronous dancers shift across the floor in a variety of dances and their guiding tunes rise from a cluster of musicians at one corner of the room. The scene is beautiful, yet disturbing; the Celtic-based music echoes through the room as though the walls were adding eerie harmonies and the dancers move with a grace more suited to trees or water than human beings.
A raised table overlooks other tables and the dance floor, and behind it a backdrop made of light dancing off a waterfall shimmers and splashes into a pool that nearly surrounds the dais.
Contents:
Brian
Eamon
Diana
Megan
Steven
Stranger
Diana says "Whoah! What the fff..."
Diana says "uh."
Eamon mouths 'ticing' as he suddenly lurches as the world stops tilting, then looks around warily as he tries to get his bearings.
Steven snaps his eyes shut, one hand going to his stomach and the other clapping over his mouth. After a moment, he seems to recover from his 'motion sickness'.
Stranger spreads his arms wide and bows with a dancer's exaggerated grace. "Welcome, honored guests." And his words are echoed through the hall in a confusion of voices and faint applause.
Diana looks around dumbly, her jaw slightly open. After a moment, she recovers, shaking her head and regaining her composure.
Megan grimaces, turning her head away and closing her eyes for a moment. When she refocuses, she sweeps her attention across the room, her eyes lingering on the more spectacular details of the place.
Brian, like the rest, squeezes his eyes closed and shakes his head hard when the world rights itself again. The applause prompts him to open his eyes, and his eyebrows lift. He lets slide a murmured, "Ho boy..."
Lushly clad folk sitting upon the dais raise jeweled quizzing glasses to inspect the Garou. Those among the 'common' herd stretch and peer and whisper comment to each other. The dancers clear a space around the Garou and the musicians cease playing.
Stranger says smoothly, "I regret that I cannot offer you anything to eat or drink, my guests. Please believe yourselves as welcome as the most honored who have graced these halls. Shall we begin our riddlery?"
Eamon thrusts hand and wrist back into the pockets of his coat, melting in towards the middle of the group of Garou.
Diana grimaces. Riddles, gah.
Amid her stormy demeanor, Megan merely snaps, "Yes."
Brian nods his agreement. "No time like the present, hey?"
Stranger gestures toward the wide hall. "Step forward, then, those who would engage our guests in the ancient game."
A small brown creature dashes forward on all fours, then rocks back on its haunches, holding up small black hands in a parody of human surprise. Pointed ears twitch merrily, and wicked yellow eyes look at Eamon. "It's my wit you'll have to best with your quick tongue, o Ragabash, if you ever use it for anything other than licking your butt."
A saucy lass, with a round face covered by freckles, and brown hair pulled back into two country braids, steps forward with a wink. "It's my song you'll have to answer, o great bard of the wolf people," she announces, looking at Steven. Her voice is unexpectedly rich and sonorous, at odds with her young appearance.
A tall, thin, woody person, towering over the Garou, leans down, displaying a longbow carved of translucent antler. It is at least seven feet long. The person resettles its grip upon the bow, flexing slender, branching fingers, and nods solemnly at Diana.
A bronze-skinned man whose muscles ripple beneath his crimson silks steps down from the high table. His face remains in shadow, with only the bloody glint of his eyes revealing where his gaze rests: upon Brian. His enormous rack of antlers shifts only slightly as, with a flick of his massive wrist, a leather glove slaps the floor at the Righ's feet.
A splash next to the dais heralds the appearance of the shell-pale, dripping nixie. She glides over the floor, leaving puddles, to stand in front of Megan. Long hair, darkened by the water, winds about her lush body like seaweed, providing only a parody of modesty. "I have," she says smugly, "a particularly *nice* riddle for you."
Diana pages to the room: Er, do you mean us or our bodies? :)
You paged the room with 'The fae are addressing the bodies that go with those names.'.
Steven pages to the room: Too bad you never took Di up on pack archery lessons, Eh, Eamon? :)
Eamon looks confused during all this announcing, but then looks between the small brown creature before him and Stranger, flushed with anger. "You're taunting the wrong person with that, although I'm insulted anyway. I'm no ragabash."
Were the person occupying Megan's body in a kinder, gentler, and more conversant frame of mind, the half-moon might have reacted in a decidedly unladylike fashion to the almost-proposition by the nearly-naked nereid. Instead, she hisses, "How about I gut you and leave your corpse on the rocks to rot, instead?"
The small brown creature claps its hands delightedly. "Insulted! Exactly! That's what the contest is to consist of!"
Steven frowns at the songstress. "Oh, that's rich, I can't even tell my own name, much less any sort of story. I'm /no/ bard."
Brian swallows, damned near audibly, glances over at Megan, then looks up at the antlered man. Summoning up a lopsided smile, he clears his throat, and asks, "And what's our contest, m'blood? For any child of Stag is a brother of mine."
The nixie waggles her finger reprovingly. "Temper, temper. Strength never wins a contest with water." She smiles, her sharp teeth flashing.
Diana looks up at the woody person, then just grins up at it. "Hi."
The freckled lass dimples at Steven's words. "You're well on the way to winning the contest already," she murmurs.
For a moment it looks as if Megan might snap a hand out to forcibly remove a few of those pearly whites, but instead she simply stares daggers at the nixie. "Tell me your riddle," she demands.
The antlered man in red merely gazes at Brian and cracks his knuckles thoughtfully.
Diana looks at the others. "Say, uh, shouldn't we switch up, since we're not in our right bodies?"
Shea is carried in by two Fae attendants. Broad shoulders, looking something like a Fabio rip off, a large brawny faerie with a muscular, well oiled chest drags in the theurge. This wall of Faerie power is mated with a willow wisp delicate woman dressed diaphonously, a wry looking smile perched on her delicately featured lips. She's unceremoniously dropped on her feet, the brawny man copping a quick feel for his trouble. Shea turns and gives the man a wicked looking glare. But with all of that, she steps further into the room, glad to finally see someone she recognizes.
A short, voluptuous (or to put it less kindly, plump) woman in a tattered dress of green steps forward and nods coolly to Shea. "We will have a riddle game, as befits those who walk in dreams."
"Oh, I can't tell you. I'll have to show you." The nixie smiles maliciously up at Megan.
Shea winces, silently. "Fabulous," she mouths unhappily, her brow arching distastefully. She lifts a hand, for a moment, towards the other packmates she can see from where she is.
Eamon once again scowls at the furry four-footed thing. "You want the real Eamon, then," he says, pointing at Diana. "Not me."
"Uh-/huh/,..." the Fury trapped within Steven answers the songmaker. "So your riddle to me is to make me do something which this body /should/ be able to handle, but because /I'm/ stuck in it, I can't do the sing-song thing?"
Diana frowns, then looks up at her companion. "So, is this an archery contest, then?"
Stranger watches the chaos around him with an oddly predatory, yet delighted, gaze.
"Show me, then," Megan snaps, still very obviously clinging to self-control by a decidedly narrow margin.
Shea pages: Did I mention you're evil?
Long distance to Shea: Limbo beams.
Shea pages: You're almost as evil as this PPP connection.
The freckled bard smiles at Steven, leaning closer. "You're very close to solving the riddle."
Steven opens his mouth as if to speak, but shuts it quickly. He pauses, stroking his chin, and just looks at the freckled songstress thoughtfully.
Brian's smile falters. "Right. Well. It's .. not quite a fair test, is it, you in your own body and me not in mine. I mean, I trip over my own feet still. Because they're not ... mine. You understand." Again he clears his throat. "It's to be a fight, then?
The nixie flings a hand up over her head. "MY riddle first," she insists. "They're all too close to solving it, and I want to have at least a little fun."
The other riddlers nod resignedly at her.
Eamon's green eyes narrow angrily, but with gritted teeth he turns to look at the nixie who has stolen center stage, trying to keep his temper as much as 'Megan'.
Shea's arms cross, a sour look still on her face.
Chloe appears. And then another Chloe. And then another Chloe. They appear to be exactly identical.
Chloe pages to the room: You are in a maze of twisting passages, all alike...
Diana pauses to watch the other riddle. "What the?"
The nixie turns to smile delightedly at her handiwork, then looks at Megan. "You get one question to each. Then tell me which is the real one. There's your riddle."
Megan blinks, her jaw dropping. She looks from one Chloe to the next to the next, shock overcoming fury.
Brian blinks a few times himself. "Ehm."
Diana mutters, "What the fuck kinda riddle's that?"
The nixie looks at Diana narrowly. "A very old one," she hisses.
After a few moments, Megan swallows and addresses the first of the trio. "When we picked out your ring," she asks, "which jewelry store did we find the one you wanted in?"
Shea silently marvels at the Chloe-clones. She glances back at Megan as she speaks.
Stranger examines the Chloes and then frowns at the nixie.
The nixie shrugs unrepentantly. "I couldn't find Kristine," she says.
The first Chloe in the line looks down and blushes a little. "It wasn't a store, but where it came from doesn't matter; it's special because it came from you."
Megan purses her lips and looks to the second duplicate. "I've a scar from the first time we met. Why?"
The second Chloe in the line swallows, and the dark eyes look back at him steadily. "There was a vampire with a gun, at Feinan's. You took a bullet for Thorn. Silver." Her voice is quiet, calm.
Megan runs a hand back through her hair, and turns to the last of the three. "Where were you when Maury and Chris died?"
Brian frowns at that question, gaze dropping to his own feet, rather than lingering on the trio of Chloe lookalikes.
Eamon openly scowls, the look of someone who just had a poorly healed wound ripped open and left bleeding again.
Diana winces as well at that last question.
Steven merely looks a bit lost and bewildered.
The third Chloe in the line narrows her eyes at Megan. "I was fighting the shadow on the other side of the mirror."
Megan takes a step back and studies the trio for a moment. She raises a hand and indicates the second duplicate. "Chloe wouldn't blush over the first question, and she wouldn't be pissed off at me for asking the third."
Diana nods in agreement.
The nixie claps her hands delightedly. "You got it right! But then, I made it easy for you." The two extra Chloes vanish. "Okay, now you can solve all the rest of the riddles the short way, if you want."
Megan glances back towards the others, and shrugs slowly, puzzledly.
Eamon scowls, then jerks his chin. "What's the short way?"
Shea eyes the "real" Chloe suspiciously. "What's the short -- " Her arms remain crossed, and she glances at the others, as Eamon asks before she can finish.
The nixie frowns at Eamon as she undulates back toward the water. "No one gives answers *away*. Figure it out for yourself, some of you almost had it." She steps into the water with barely a ripple.
Shea looks back at her pudgy riddlemaster expectantly then, her lips twisted into a bare frown. "Let's shake a leg, then," she mutters, impatiently. Nervously, she wipes her palm on her pants leg.
Brian lifts his gaze to look up at the horned man. He chews the inside of his cheek in thought, eyebrows pulling together. "But all we were doing was complaining about being in the wrong bodies."
Eamon actually begins to growl softly before he cuts himself off. Obviously he's not nearly so comfortable with all this as the more Celtic of the pack (sans Diana). Tearing his eyes from the nixie, he looks at his fuzzy tormentor. "How about a clue, then. What is your riddle?"
Steven shrugs a bit, shoving hands into his pockets. He looks to the fae bard, and cocks his head. "So, its stuff like this that'd make for a good story, I bet. One that I could only 'tell' if I took a video-camera and let people see it for themselves."
The bard leans forward eagerly. "And what are you seeing for yourself?" she asks.
Chloe lets out a breath; her jaw is tense as she steps toward ... Megan. She takes up a position behind the woman's shoulder, watching through narrowed eyes.
Diana says "Ah, right! I think I got it." She walks over to Eamon. "Take a break, babe, lemme take care of this ugly little pipsqueak.""
The ugly little pipsqueak leaps into the air and flips three times out of sheer joy. "Insults, yeeesssss?"
Steven shrugs, exhaling a breath. "A lot of things that I don't understand, nothing that I have any experience with." She nods her head towards the others, but Shea in particular. "Things that she... well he, tells stories about."
Shea glances toward Steven as she catches Diana's glance. "What?" she asks, as she closes on the Fury-in-Galliard.
Eamon's arms come up to cross over his chest, leather creaking as if muscles are straining against it. "That's hardly a riddle," he says, but then looks to Diana as she comes over. With a look back at the thing, he hazards a guess. "Appearances are deceiving, like the Chloe's in triplicate. It's what's inside that really matters, as Brian used to figure out who the real one is."
Steven unfurls a hand from his crossed arms, gesturing towards the fae bard, "She's a Storyteller,... much more up your alley than mine."
Diana says "Yeah, insults. As if it were tough to insult you. It's like shooting fish in a barrel. By the way, speaking of licking butts, I'd rather lick my own butt than your face. It'd be a much more pleasant experience. And it'd probably smell better."
The freckle-faced bard clasps her hands, eyes shining. She starts to say to Steven, "Does that mean you --" and then her eyes swivel to Eamon. "He solved it!" She looks back at Steven. "You solved it!" She seems ridiculously delighted to be losing.
Brian, still considering tall, dark and horny frowns more in earnest. "Wait. Wait wait wait."
Megan points Steven towards the antlered hulk. "Kick that one's ass for me," she says. "And save me the rack. It'll look good on my wall."
The little brown-furred creature grins with snaggled yellow teeth. "Your habits are as crude as your speech, my friend. A good insult goes a long way with a few words."
Eamon's smile is thin with little humor. "Have fun, Eamon," he says, then begins to move over to where Megan and Chloe are standing. With a bare dip of his chin to the mage, he says, "I think I'm out a riddler, Brian. You should be fighting the horned one."
Stranger laughs and waves the riddlers back. "We yield, my friends, to your elegant answer to the riddle."
The room explodes in applause and delighted laughter. Toasts are made towards the Garou amid the cacophony, and the erstwhile riddlers smile and bow before fading back into the crowd.
Diana says "Well, in that case, you...huh?"
"Hey, hey," Shea says, frowning. "How about my old digs back? I'd like to pee without caring where the toilet seat's been set."
Brian just continues to frown, perplexed.
Megan's attention goes towards Brian. "What is it?"
Stranger bows and addresses Brian. "We are impressed with how quickly you realized that there was one riddle instead of many. And what is the favor you wish to ask?"
Chloe's expression remains hard-edged, the dark eyes touched with anger, as she follows Megan's attention to the tall man.
Brian holds a hand up toward Megan, a staying gesture. "There's a spirit trapped in the Realm. A dragon who feeds on light. I don't know why he's been sent to us, other than that he says he fell from the sky or summat. Point is, he's feeding on me and mine. 's not so bad, if you're expecting it, but it can't be left to continue. D'you know a place he could feed?"
Stranger looks at Brian, suppressing a smile. "I do indeed, but are you sure that this is the favor you wish to ask? It seems to me that you're in an... awkward situation."
Eamon forgets his anger for a moment to blink at Brian. "What the fuck?" he asks, sounding surprised and bewildered, but the anger crashes back down once he's done speaking.
Diana says "Uh, don't you think we should get back in our bodies first?"
Shea points a finger at Diana. "What she said."
Brian looks over first at Megan, and then at Eamon as his hand falls. "The fog. In the grotto. I had a chat with it. We did."
Megan nods slowly at Brian, comprehension suddenly lighting her eyes. "The dragon," she mutters. "We, ah. I think maybe we should try dealing with one thing at a time?" A wince flickers across her features.
Eamon mutters, "Nice to tell the rest of us." He then stares hard at the Stranger. "The riddle is over, we should be put back without having to *ask* for it."
Steven looks like right now he could care /less/ about a dragon. Everytime he starts to open his mouth, though, someone else voices a similar sentiment to wanting their real body back, so he keeps his mouth closed.
Stranger shoots a hard look at Eamon. "Nobody said that before the game started. Still," he says, turning to address all the Garou, "you have your favor. Do with it what you will."
Brian snaps, "Save the bloody piss and vinegar until a better time, Megan, for /fuck's/ sake." He then casts a glare back at the Stranger that is immediately tempered to something more polite. "I bow to the whim of the pack. If you'd put us back to rights, we'd appreciate it."
Steven mutters, "Whim..." and snorts derisively.
Stranger applauds. The whole room applauds. "Your favor is granted. And because you took this with such good grace, and with such *entertaining* antics, we consider ourselves in your debt, and will make such gifts as we think appropriate."
Shea immediately glances over her shoulder paranoidly.
Chloe's gaze snaps to Brian, and for a moment anger flashes in her eyes--but she stands down, glancing back to Megan tightly.
Everyone melts out of the bodies they currently occupy and back into his or her own. The sensation is something like slipping into an old and favored pair of sneakers after a day in dress shoes.
Eamon rips a snort that matches Steven's, subsiding into a dark glower which transfers itself to Megan's expression as the shift finishes without changing an iota.
The laughter of the fae rings through the room and the party begins in earnest.
Steven looks smugly satisfied with his own arms, his own scars, the black sight from one eye, everything. He takes a deep breath and starts to scan out the room for doe-eyed pretties.
After the party becomes loud and musical once more, people begin to drift around the room. A pair of women -- one noticeably fox-like, with a long, bushy tail -- drift into view. The ginger-haired faerie gestures at Steven and whispers something to her companion, who gives Steven a long, thoughtful look. Then they both explode into giggles. The fox-eared one then sketches an outline of a bulging belly over her slender midsection and their giggles become uncontrollable.
Brian closes his eyes slowly, and draws a long, even breath. "God damn," he murmurs.
Diana does not seek to partake in the festivities.... and while she looks more than relieved to be in her /real/ body, she seems... distant and brooding, still.
Shea staggers a single step, sliding back into her own body. She squeezes her eyes shut as she did before, then blinks a few times in opening them and regains her balance. She casts a quick glance around at packmates and fae alike, then says again, "We appreciate it." Quietly.
Steven looks characteristically puzzled at the ginger haired fox. "Righ," he says, grinning. "I second that feeling." He smiles, then, back toward the formerly? pregnant Fae and shrugs a little.
Chloe paces swiftly to Brian's side, and slides both arms around him, leaning her head against his chest. She takes a deep, slightly unsteady breath.
Stranger slips into the crowd and appears at Shea's side, laying a confidential hand on her arm. "We do appreciate it," he murmurs. "And I will look into that matter you mentioned."
Megan is a dark mark in the party seething around her, radiating rage like a space heater. Unmindful or perhaps ignoring her packmates, she looks at the Stranger. "I'm not much feeling like this. Is there any way I can get back?"
Diana does manages to perk at Megan's question, and moves a bit forward so as to hear the answer herself.
Stranger nods at Megan and gestures to a carved door across the room. "That exits, I believe, in your Grotto."
Megan flickers a glance to the doorway, then back to Diana questioningly. "Care to risk it?"
Brian runs one hand back through Chloe's hair while reaching towards Shea with the other. "You did good," he tells the theurge at his touch.
Diana is already over half-way there. "Even if its not," she mutters darkly, "I'd rather be there than here." With no apology for her mood or her words, she's through the carved door.
Chloe reaches down to take one of Brian's hands, and glances over and up to him.
"Wait up," Megan says after the retreating Fury. All she manages is a quick glance at Brian before she's loping after Diana.
Shea summons up a smile for the Stranger, ducking her head again. "It'd mean a lot, and if there's a price, it's on me, hey?" Attention drawn by Brian's touch, she looks up at him, smile flickering away. "Thanks. I'll, em, stay awhile, if you don't mind."
Brian shakes his head. "Not at all," he replies, "but we'll need to talk, hm?"
Steven snorts at the wet blankets as he slips into the partying crowd.
Shea nods. "You know where to find me." She slips out from under his hand, and more deeply into the hall.
Stranger smiles at Shea as he drifts away. "Gifts don't have prices, only counter-gifts."
Chloe studies Brian, her eyes narrowing a little. She gives his hand a questioning little tug. "Shall we?"
Brian looks down at Chloe, a small smile lighting his lips. "If you like," he says quietly.
A tall, statuesque woman with black hair, dressed in a sleek sapphire gown emerges from the crowd and sidles up to Steven. She raises one eyebrow and smiles enigmatically.
Chloe offers him a nod, and some of the tension leaves her face. Still holding his hand, she walks to the door and through.
Steven extends a hand to the raven haired beauty. "My lady," he says, with a tight smile. "Care to dance?" The other hand goes back through his hair, pell mell.
You paged the room with 'I think we can pretty much wrap it here, once everyone does the poses they care to. I wave my arm at Stranger, muchly appreciating my co-GM, Therru, who also played the nixie and contributed amazingly to the faerie content.'.
Steven pages to the room: Thank you Chaos and Therru.
Brian pages to the room: Aye. Thank you.
Shea pages to the room: Many many thanks!
You paged the room with 'We hope you enjoyed this evening's faerie frolic. Even if the faeries got more frolic than you did! Please exit to the rear of the Great Hall. ;)'.
Player Name On For Idle Doing
Shea 00:24 8m Short. I'm short.
Chaos 02:56 7m Go Hallooo and then drop on you...
3/9/99