Smoke Flowers IC
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Smoke Flowers IC
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Rebbeca gracefully bows “of course. She takes off the crossbow, the sword, the bow, and three other small knives that appear as mundane jewels.
All things considered, knives are no longer necessary when her own body is a weapon. “Unlikely that they’ll be something to hunt within these walls.” she nods in agreement to Zag. She places her items into a large sack, and present it to Al, silently.Rebbeca shares a distressed look with Bronwen, it is subtle as if she asks “Do you feel bad too?”
-
Rebecca didn’t register what she was seeing for a moment then she realised, batshit wasn’t carrying her rifle. Batshit had seen her chance and taken it a little while earlier. Two slow cart had passed each other causing a milling, confused mass. She had slipped her rifle into the bag of the slow moving Masons wagon with its block of stone under a convenient canvas. She might be memorable but at that moment the two massive wagons where much more eye catching and she took the chance. Be a laugh either way.
-
[Early Morning, Day One, Autumn; Gates of Londinium]
The guard frowned, honest greed clearly warring with the self-importance of his station “Fine, fine, but wrap the weapons up, my lieutenant sees them he’ll haul you all before the Protectorate before you can whistle…now, about that gratitude…”
After the haggling was done the group were free to pass under the massive gateway and in to Londinium. If the stink outside the walls had been bad, inside the air was thick enough to form an almost physical barrier. If medieval cities with open sewers had had massive coal burning they might have smelled worse, but not by much. Surely it couldn’t all be as bad as this? The throng of humanity pressed about them, the cries of hawkers, prostitutes and disgruntled animals was almost as much of a physical assault as the soupy air. Well this wasn’t the idyllic fae realm that might have been expected…
***
#07
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F*** Fea to thousand hells! It was all propaganda of the fair folk about how their realm is. This place is worse than Earth. Perhaps she was hypochondria, but she could already feel the weakness, and the emotional drag of the pollution and human suffering taking their toll on her body, and psychological walfare. The only thing close to that was living in Redmond, and that got her weak, sick, and dependent on antidepressant drugs and expensive vitamins.
There has to be some more beautiful part of this hellhole she could settle if they never find a way back. Or better yet, there has to be a way back. Still, it was an adventure, and she ventured perhaps furthest than her wildest dreams. The Traveller was satisfied with her, she could feel it, and she could feel how she was somehow more open to the manasphere and channeled more QI than before. She was uncertain if she finally understood a delicate point, or if she was lucky. The irony of feeling so miserable while she finally achieved an improvement she worked so hard to accomplish was not lost on her, and Rebbeca smiles bitterly to herself.
“I hate this place already, can’t they see that they are ruining their world?”
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Bronwean shuffled through the narrow gate carefully allowing the crowd to stear her up against the wagon she had used to clear her weapon through the gate she tuck it up unher frock coat for now. She hear the driver growl something about fleas and raise her crop as if to strike her.
Batshit back up as best she could in the squashed mass. The driver had the crowd to contend with and quickly lost interest in Fae-baiting to avoid a spill ahead.
Suddenly free of the gate the smell, the grime and the aurora of londinium struck her square in the face. This place was dieing and not slowly. She fought the urge to vomit and run. Her eyes met Rebecca’s, and unspoken horror passed between her
As she followed the group, flowing through the crow with her annoying ease, she started to memorize the streets and the buildings.
As they moved on she noticed how Fae pointed to them. she could not work out their faces was that sorrow or fear on their faces?
It slowly dawned on her that while, on the whole, all the awful jobs seamed to be done by elves, orcs and dwarves ;even the humans, the Kin, also looked just as despondent harassed as their lessers
“what ailes this place?” Bronwean mused “did something, someone Make this place deliberately awful?”
She stopped dead in her tracks “oh no” she grasped “guys wait up?” she hustled to make up ground -
The smell brought up memories of sewers, and of the ghoul that had imperiled Zag’s very being in a sewer not long ago. Well, hopefully no ghouls here. Looking around he murmured to the others “Not enough space for the rick to stay too much clear of the poor, I’d guess. And enough poor around that power is probably shown by lots of servants. Or slaves. Whatever. So we got Al looking all middle-class or something like that, I’d guess. So my job here is probably to get in front and force a way through the crowd for Al. Becky to follow behind most probably. Bronwyn, I’m sure you’ll do what you want, but don’t get too far away.
He stopped talking to quickly step in front of the group to deflect a skinny teenager from running into Al. Zag slapped the kid’s hands to make sure they were not grubbing at pockets or pouches, then with a shrug started pushing his way through the seething activity. He called over his shoulder “Give me directions as you will, Master Al. For now I’m aiming to get out of this square, but not too far from the river, yet.” He hoped one of the others would come up with some better idea of where to go, but for now he figured staying near the river should keep them from getting totally lost, or from straying into overly fancy parts of town.
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Rebbeca thinks “Since we cannot find Silk, let’s make her aware of our presence, make her find us. We should do something that would get her attention. I look close enough to my real self – if I start singing at Taverns/street corners I’ll be an attraction. Since nobody will know the songs, and Silk is attracted to mysteries, she may investigate the Dryad that sings strange beautiful songs. I mean, she trades information for a living… she HAS to know stuff.
What do you guys think? We can gossip a bit, make graffiti too? Something that would stand out for Earthlings”
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[Early Morning, Day One, Autumn; Gates of Londinium]
They made their way east, using glimpses of the turgid river on their left to keep them more or less orientated. It was clear that this was far from a fancy area of town… away from the gates the visible number of kin dropped off rapidly in favour of a weird and wonderful variety of fae. At one point a horse drawn carriage went past that was a glass tank with an honest to gods mermaid swimming inside it. Al wasn’t the only one admiring the topless beauty and her beautiful orc guards were forced to be sufficiently robust to clear a path through the throng that sought to ogle their mistress.
At the next junction a fragging centaur was haggling with one of the many street hawkers. It felt like the place ought to be alive with vibrant colours to match the frenetic pace of the inhabitants but it all felt drawn and wan, grey with coal soot and whatever other pollutants were choking the air.
As they cast about for a likely spot for Becky to start singing, and actually be heard above the hubbub, they realised that they’d got to an open area where one of the great bridges crossed the Thames… it would have corresponded roughly with Vauxhall if they’d had a map to compare… lounging against a gas lamp was a familiar golden figure… Hunter! As they got closer they saw that this place had aged him prematurely and his glamour was much reduced but he was still unmistakable…
“I’ve been waiting for you” he called across the street “come on, Silk is at home… this way” and he set off before he could be questioned further…
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#08
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“Hunter! Thanks the Pattern! ” Rebbeca says as she follows the man. She was counting on pattern magic to find them but she could not anticipate how easy it was to find them when they did not try to attract much attention to themselves.
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Bronwean walked at the front with hunter, weaving In and out of the crowd in front of him with that easy grace which was more that just her glamour. As she walked she spewed a Torrent of questions.
Hunter tried to ignore, deflected or brushed aside the quest with distracted non committal answers. “you’ll see, that’s a question for Silk, I really would not know.
All the while Bronwean wondered what had drained Hunter, was it to do with the warnings, on the artifact, about the passage of time or was it to do with what really sickened this realm? -
It was all subterfuge, batshit was watching the edges. A thief is a thief no matter what the realm. The same goes for pimps, hustlers and toecutters. She knew that being new in town tbe jungle drums would be beating, announcing the arrival of new meat. She watch the several interested parties start the follow the group. Knowing the direction of any attack was fine, more interesting was their interactions with other. This reveals players s who otherwise would have remained hidden.
She made mental note of those players she might find useful later. All the while she bombarded poor hunter with question after question.
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[Early Morning, Day One, Autumn; Doors of a Great House]
They slowly turned north towards the river and began to see signs of prosperity, apparently here as in the real world, waterfront property was desirable, nestled though it was amongst fetid industrial areas. Finally they were approaching what could only be described as a small castle, and Al and Isaint noticed, with a small amount of unease, the flowering tree symbol carved in to the doors… surely not?!
“Welcome to House Laésal, The House of Flowers” Hunter confirmed their suspicions. Perhaps sensing the mood Hunter then said “Don’t worry, there’s not a direct link with those in London Below so I’m sure old grievances can be forgotten. They have been much help to Silk and I in this place…”
***
The contrast with the outside world couldn’t be more stark as they entered the sanctum of the House. Once through the initial dark vestibule they came out in to a vast glazed atrium heady with the scents of exotic flowers and no trace of the outside pollution. Jasmine and honeysuckle and other plants impossible to name flowed from hanging planters and surrounded bubbling pools of clear water. Butterflies flitted through the air, some possibly minute pixies, and there was a hint of snickering fae hiding amongst the undergrowth.
But mainly it was a haven of quiet after the raucous bustle of the Londinium streets. On the far side of the internal garden paradise stone steps rose gracefully in to the house beyond and it was down these that Silk swept, a smile on her otherwise serene features. Clad in the austere garb of this place and time it was clear that she too had aged since they’d seen her only a few days ago…
“You are here at last” she said quietly, “I knew that you would come…”
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#09
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When they got to a somewhat nicer area it had been a relief to Zag — he was getting tired of glowering at potential pick-pockets or bandits.
When they got to a really nice area, his stress level went back up. The thieves and robbers in areas like this would meet a glower with a smile, and would have lackeys to stab you in the back while they smiled to your face. Besides which more wealth meant more open spaces, which meant it was more likely that they could get gunned down before he could close to melee range.
So by the time they met Silk he was content to give a graceful bow, and let those who knew her better do the talking while looked around for signs that they’d walked into a trap.
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Bronwean looked around, this was Nice. There was a pang of guilt as she realised that she had not returned, as she had promised, to San Francisco to tend her vegetable garden at White owls House. The peas would need tying back and the carrot thinning out. She refocused
She was oblivious to what the symbol was over the door but the tightening jaw lines told a story, she tried to catch people’s eyes to ask what was the problem.
As silk came to a holt at the foot of the steps
“miss silk” she snapped to attention clicking her heals together (where the hell had that come from) “how long have you been here? And please tell me you have a route home?” Her sliding chorus of a voice still took some getting used to
Silks eyes widened is sorrow as she took in the uniform
“a forlorn hope! Not Horatius’ own, oh darling Batshit oh what have the fates done to your destiny”
Forcing a smile “come my friends let have afternoon tea while I explain all that at has happened and what need to occur”
Bronwean looked lost “who the fuck is Horatius?” she muttered under her breath “wasn’t he the roman crazy holding some bridge”
As gracefully as she had arrived Silk lead the way back up the stairs leaving Bronwean digesting tat she definitely was not in kansas anymore -
[Mid Morning, Day One, Autumn; Doors of a Great House]
Before Silk could continue a force of nature came barrelling in to the room… “Gwyn” Silk admonished, “We have guests.” Looking rather sheepish the child, about ten, turned and bowed to the team. He was dressed in the same stiff Victorianesque fashion, which made the small goat horns and satyr legs all the more striking. “This is my son, Gwyn…” Son?!? “There is much to explain… Hunter and I have been in this world for over two decades, I had almost lost hope of a return but the Pattern weaves as it wills and I knew that this day would come eventually. Judging by your appearances little time has passed in the real world while it has marched on here. That gives me some comfort that if we return I won’t have lost the time we will need to plan for their Coming. Now, this tea is good, please join me. Gwyn, why don’t you go and fetch your sister, my friends might as well meet the whole of my new family.”
As Gwyn left Silk continued “Now, to your other question…as you’ve no doubt realised the artefact that brought us all here is a one way ticket. But there is at least one sister artefact in this world, one that can take us home. Unfortunately it is in the hands of powerful forces who do not wish to relinquish possession of it, or even allow another to use it. As you may have guessed the Houses of London Below appear to be represented in this place, on both sides of the river. The Webweavers, The House of Whispers, are on the north bank… if I had to hazard a guess I’d say they are a manifestation of the forces that oppose our works in the real. It will be difficult, but you are here now” and she smiled warmly at them all…
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#10
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Al used all of his Thespian powers to keep his face neutral as Silk introduced her son. Dunkelzahn dining on donuts, she’d spawned a damned demon. He betrayed no reaction, however. She was a friend, horns and all, and this was her kin. And maybe having children of her own would help her get over – hell, even face – the fact that her mother was dead. Maybe maternal role of her own would help her to see that the bundle of optical chips masquerading as her mother was no more than a mindless, soulless automaton, however adept at impersonation.
And maybe having a lineage of her own would ease the pain of her father being a straight-up traitor, coward, and molester-slash-betrayer of his own flesh and blood.
His first words were to the child. “Hey there boy, why’n’cha go find a maidservant or somethin’ an’ have ’em fetch ol’ Al a beer?” The moment the small creature was out of earshot, Al said, “So listen, while this is one o’ the few areas not o’ my expertise, reckon I gotta ask – afore we go any further with the robbin’ an’ stealin’, that is – are ya full well sure that goin’ back’s what ya want? I mean, what with yer own brood now – are ya sure they can go back with ya? Or if them as is born in this sorta mana-rich environment gon’ fare back inna real world? Or what if goin’ back makes ya young again, an’ then yer kids won’t never have even existed?”
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Rebbeca says “I am lost here, you had 20 years to find some capable professionals to send you home, and instead, you started a family and waited for us? What is really going on Silk? “
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[Mid-Morning, Day One, Autumn; House Laésal, Londinium]
Silk smiled sadly “I will start with the easy questions… I found out the artefact’s location exactly twenty one years to the day after Hunter and I arrived in this place, hardly a coincidence. That was three weeks ago, since then I have been scrutinising the Pattern almost continuously to try and determine the path to take. Before that we had all but despaired of ever leaving this place and we had resigned ourselves to life here… not that it has been bad, we have had much joy here, but it is not home, not really.”
Taking Al’s burn scarred hand in her soft pampered ones she took a deep breath and he saw tears in her eyes but her voice held steel “You test me? I have no choice Al, They cannot be fought here, I have laid aside my burden for twenty one years, now I must pick it up again no matter the cost. But I think perhaps we will return as we are now, when we came here we did so physically rather than as an astral construct and if the other artefact works in the same way we will return physically. As to the children, there is precedent for high mana spikes in the real world creating changelings and they survive when the mana recedes… I have to hope that the Pattern has a place for them there…”
She was interrupted by Gwyn dashing back in to the room followed by Hunter bearing a laden tray of refreshments (didn’t they have servants or some shit in this joint? So far they’d not seen anyone else, although dimly heard sounds suggested the place wasn’t deserted)… the herbal scents rising from the tray reminded Al and Isaint what the House of Flowers was famed for in London Below… Following behind them was another child, a pretty little red head of about twelve and as normal as could be Al was glad to see… until she turned and he saw that her dress was cut low at the back and she had bloody dragonfly wings sprouting from her shoulder blades – next she’d be flying around the fragging room like a bloody giant pixie!
“Aria, Gwyn, these are our friends from the other world. Al, Isaint, Becky, Zag and…” she hesitated momentarily “Bronwen”
Aria gave a little bobbing curtsey and Gwyn drew himself up and bowed low and then with a wicked grin and as broad a Cockney accent as he could muster said “Pleased ta meetcha guvs,” and Hunter gave him a mock clip round the ear.
Smiling Silk said “You will have time to pester them for stories later, I hope they will be staying with us for a while. Go back to your studies and I will come to you shortly and see how you’re getting on…”
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#11
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“All so strange that you discover the artifact shortly before we arrive, but I’ll admit that despite initiating into the higher magical arts six times- pattern magic remains a mystery to me. I cannot explain how you do it, but I admire it. We will get you home as we planned, and Gwen would love our world with its video games, and trids.”[/color]
She then curtseys at Aria and Gwen, saying “Nice to meet you, my name is Rebbeca Jones. Freind of your mother.” the world “friend” feels strange to her, but Rebbeca has no other explanation as to why she is in that strange world, wearing that ridiculous dress instead of her gorgeous black body armor. “I bet that if I was a dude, I would have turned into a night in shining armor.”
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Zag bows to the kids, puts aside thoughts of family complications, and asks “what Intel do you have on the location and security on this target item? We may need to learn more, but let’s start with what you have.“
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