The Queen Of Air And Darkness

<> Demiurge says "At the moment, everyone has gathered in the Marches, near the base of Blandine's Tower."

<> Demiurge says "Aron has the Compass."

The Compass points towards the Far Marches. Possibly towards Beleth's side of the Far Marches. Certainly Out Thataway.

Aron remembers to allow himself to be visible. He folds his wings back and holds the compass out. He considers, and then turns to Azalea. "Perhaps it might be best if you led the way." He offers her the compass.

Phineas looks around, surveying his surroundings. He feels very much like he's just along for the ride.

Liz looks around the Marches, eyes darting back and forth curiously. "So, this is where you go when you sleep. Interesting."

<> Hitherby tries to remember. She can look like a Kyriotate or like one of the hosts she had before moving fully into the Marches?

<> Demiurge says "Yes, Hitherby."

<> Demiurge says "And everyone else can either look like their angelic form, or like their Vessel."

Phineas holds his axe in his hand, clearly a little uncomfortable. His wings flutter as he gazes around warily.

Hitherby paces along the odd landscape as a small tabby cat, as cats belong in the landscape of dreams.

Sephar just is it's usual silver-cloud self.

Aron leads, for the time being, quietly setting his path towards Beleth's realm.

Phineas looks a whole lot like his human form, but less clothing and more wings. "So, remind me why we're going this way?"

Hitherby says, helpfully, "Because there aren't any busses."

The compass pulses every now and again, the pointer like a blob of living mercury in it.

Aron says, without turning back, "I do not know a faster way to the object of our quest."

Phineas tightens the grip on his sword, "Think we'll encounter much resistance?"

Hitherby says, thoughtfully, "Doubtful. I am known and feared everywhere."

The Marches are a twilight field of gems, dream-bubbles drifting by or hanging in clusters, sparkling in the sky.

Hitherby's tail twitches.

Zebina flits from bubble to bubble, staring at each, never in a single place for a moment, but describing a rough orbit around the party.

Aron says "I imagine whatever is left, after Hitherby's reputation clears the way, will be sufficient however."

Phineas snorts in amusement, his spirit raised slightly. He looks at some of the bubbles on occation as he keeps stride beside Aron.

The compass, in fact, leads the way towards the border between the Vale and the Far Marches. As the group of angels approach, a couple of Malakim float downwards towards them.

Phineas hefts his axe to his shoulder, easier to carry. He turns to watch the Malakim approach.

Aron cups the compass in his hand and slows his gliding progress. He indicates that the others should halt, with a subtle gesture.

Sephar moves along quietly, using what time and attention it has to just keep moving with the others and halting half a beat behind them.

The two Malakim descend, wings flaring, to halt in front of the group. They wear the traditional garb of the Tsayadim, those Servitors of Uriel who still guard the boundaries of the Vale.

Aron salutes, in the traditional style.

Phineas stands quietly, just observing.

The two Malakim return the salute. The one in the lead, a female, demands, "Who are you, and for what reason are you here?"

Hitherby sits down, curls her tail around the tip of her feet, and looks perfect and innocent as only cats can.

Aron says "Taroniel, in service to Dream. We quest."

Phineas says "Phineas, Servitor of Michael. I too quest."

The Malakim nod. The female leader says, "Your quest is urgent, to take you into the Far Marches?"

Hitherby blinks. Then yawns slightly to cover her moment of surprise. She goes back to looking innocent.

Aron says "It is given by the Lady, herself."

The Malakim glance at each other, then the leader says, "Pass. But have a care. There are dangerous creatures beyond."

Aron nods. Quietly, he says, "I have been here before."

Phineas nods his thanks to the Malakim. He's clearly never been here before.

Sepharcloud rolls a quiet bow to the Malakim.

Hitherby stands up again.

Hitherby nods to the Malakim.

Zebina rolls on by the Malakim, with a dip of acknowledgement.

The Malakim flare their wings, and leap into the sky again, vanishing among clouds of dreamscapes.

Zebina reins her orbit in more tightly around the party as it journeys further on.

Here, the Marches become interlocking domains. This is the area of the old gods, the banished deities, the myths and the stranger things.

Sephar stays quietly close to the others, pacing Hitherby quietly.

Phineas just follows Aron, trying not to gawk too much and keep his eyes peeled for trouble.

The landscape becomes a snowy one underfoot, with dark-boughed trees and pale sky. In the distance, the sound of a hunting horn, hounds, and horses.

Aron says, at one point, "Have a care."

Aron says "Those who remain here bear us little love."

Phineas adjusts his axe on his shoulder.

Hitherby considers. Hounds.

Sephar looks in the direction of the sounds as well.

Coming closer is the sound of running feet, and someone frantically panting, approaching through the trees.

Aron says "I would suggest stealth."

Aron pages: A long time ago, we established that Aron might have enemies in the Far Marches, but also some allies. Forgetting that for the moment, would he know the Wild Hunt?

<> Sephar tries to imagine Eduardo and 'stealth' and fails magnificently.

Hitherby glances around for underbrush.

You paged Aron with 'Might well.'.

Sepharcloud looks around for a tree or something.

There are trees. There is underbrush.

Sepharcloud perches up in a tree.

Eduardo grunts. He stands behind a tree. It doesn't work very well.

Shannen says, "But shouldn't we try and help whoever that is?"

Zebina 's form shimmers and then she stands the, in vessel. (It's rather less noticeable than a burning wheel.)

<> Hitherby says "For reference, can I also assume swarm shape? A stealth time is obviously not the best; just keeping future options in mind. I can see either way, since I was in multiple hosts."

Phineas tries to figure out where he could possible hide. He makes an honest effort.

Hitherby melds into the underbrush.

Aron says "We can do both."

<> Demiurge says "Yes, Hitherby."

<> Demiurge says "Hm. In a tree, up a tree, behind a tree, in the bushes, Phineas, possibly."

Zebina stays quiet, and near to Aron.

Aron, that said, assumes the black on white of night on snow, and fades from sight.

<> Hitherby nods. Okay; I think that, since Hitherby doesn't think in Marches terms, she was just in a variety of swarms and a cat; the bum was later in the night.

Shannen sighs, and tries to hide behind a tree.

Phineas hides behind a tree, then. He's fairly slender.

Aron flies up, black hues rippling to match him to the sky. He searches out the hunt, if he can.

A staggering man breaks into the clearing, panting, clothing and legs torn by thorns. His ears are pointed, and his face pale, and his body thin. The man pauses a moment, trying to catch his breath.

It can be seen, by those in the trees, that white hounds with red ears follow the runner, and are nearly on the clearing. Behind come brilliantly clad men and women, with the same ears and build, on horses with fangs and burning eyes.

The hounds break into the clearing with a wild cascade of baying, and swirl around the man, who goes down with a despairing cry - but they seem unable to rend him. They merely nudge at him.

Aron's lips thin. "The Cwnn Annwn," he says softly.

The hounds spread further into the clearing. One yelps at Phineas, looking _profoundly unhappy. Its tongue lolls out.

Hitherby watches from the underbrush, eyes dark.

Shannen says, barely audibly, "Oops. Oh well, violence is bad."

Phineas looks down at the hound, "Good boy." He starts to sing the Corporeal Song of shields.

Sepharcloud eyes the hounds.

<> Demiurge says "Guess whose attunement just kicked in?"

The hounds mill around, looking more and more confused. A few - at the edges of the crowd, some ten metres or so away - snap at each other spitefully.

<> Aron snickers.

<> Hitherby says "Wooo!"

<> Phineas rolls the d666 and gets 4 5 CHECK: 1.

<> Sephar grins.

You paged Phineas with 'I fear it fails to go off. However, you're not being attacked.'.

<> Phineas says "I suck :)"

There is a yell from the riders, and the leaders whip up their horses, making for the clearing.

Phineas readies his axe, just in case. He stands fairly still, otherwise, not wanting to piss off the puppies.

A couple of the hounds nose hopefully at the bushes where Hitherby and Sephar lurk, tongues lolling out.

Aron waits for the riders to approach, quietly.

In the lead is a young man in crimson and dark grey, on a black horse. Further back is the clear leader of the ride, a woman in icelike silks, hair dark as ink, eyes vivid as grass. There are perhaps a dozen riders.

Aron pages: Tell me I don't recognize her.

>From afar, Aron grins.

Phineas steps out into the open. No use hiding now.

Hitherby quietly morphs into a cloud of stinging insects, crawling about in the bushes. Or loudly, if such things are loud.

Sepharcloud blob simply remains up in the tree, watching.

Zebina continues to stay fairly close to Aron. Close enough to help. Far enough away to not get in his way if he needs to use that sword.

The young man calls, "Catcher! Amethyst, Hotspur, Hellion, where are your teeth, hounds! What is this!"

You paged Aron with 'You recognise her. ;)'.

You paged Aron with 'The Queen of Air and Darkness, as she likes to style herself. ;)'.

Phineas crosses his arms, axe held in one hand. He just stands there, waiting to be addressed or something similar.

Aron shimmers into place, visible now, and sad. "My apologies, my companions. I fear this is going to be bad."

The youth hauls his steed to a halt, wrenching at the beast's reins. "What is this? What, angels? Angels, in _our_ Realm?"

Phineas looks over to the youth, "Yes. Angels in your realm. Passing through as it were. We mean no trouble."

The other riders come to a halt behind him, and a couple have their hands on swords or crossbows. The woman throws back the veil from her face, to regard the group. Her eyes move to Aron.

Aron inclines his head, slightly. "Majesty."

The woman says, her voice like crystal, "And what is a Malakite of Purity doing here, save to bring a Crusade again?"

Sephar contemplates in the tree.

Phineas opens his eyes as realization finally dawns.

Shannen whispers, probably believing she's being unobvious, "Er... if I walk away, the dogs might get violent on us."

Aron says "I have no tears left to shed, Majesty. So, the Crusade shall have to wait."

The woman says, "And you have brought reinforcements." She gestures to the other angels.

Aron says "Companions."

She says, "How charming. A Michaelite. One who understands the joy of battle."

Phineas says "And that of peace."

Zebina peers narrowly at the woman.

Hitherby crawls thoughtfully up out of the bushes, rises to hover. Quietly, atonally, she says, "My master loved the unicorns. And many others."

She lifts her head to regard Zebina. "And one of the angels of movement? Two, even? How swift. I am surprised you did not simply fly by our realm, rather than - *trespassing*."

The other riders sit in silence, though a couple edge their horses round to the sides.

The woman's eyes soften as she turns to Hitherby. "You speak true, Domination. Your master was one of the *few*."

Sephar watches its side quietly, staying hidden in the tree as best it's able.

Aron says "When last I was here, your realm did not reach here."

Aron holds up his hand. "But I am sure there is a price for this trespass."

Hitherby says, quietly, "The Malakite there -- he is in service to Dreams."

Phineas just stands quietly. He keeps a wary eye on those riders trying to circle.

The woman's laugh is a ripple. "Perhaps I should request a service of you. There is a task here, that must be done every seven years. Would any of you care to volunteer for it?"

<> Demiurge says "Int roll, anyone who is feeling suspicious. :)"

<> Phineas rolls the d666 and gets 1 2 CHECK: 1.

<> Hitherby rolls the d666 and gets 1 2 CHECK: 4.

<> Aron grins. "Do we have to roll if we know already?"

<> Demiurge rolls the d666 and gets 5 1 CHECK: 2.

Phineas looks at Aron with a questioning eye.

Sephar also eyes the circling riders on its side.

<> Sephar rolls the d666 and gets 4 1 CHECK: 3.

Hitherby says, calmly, "I think that would be worth far more than passage."

<> Demiurge says "Phineas, you remember something called the Teind. Hitherby, Sephar, you remember something about a seven-yearly tribute to Hell."

Azalea says, spinning calmly, "I have seen that tribute."

<> Demiurge says "Aron, yes, you know it. ;)"

Aron says "There is a hunt, it requires a quarry."

<> Zebina rolls the d666 and gets 4 3 CHECK: 4.

<> Zebina never heard of it. ^_^;

<> Demiurge says "Zebina - tribute? What tribute? :)"

Phineas furrows his brow, clearly not enjoying this turn of conversation.

<> Azalea can only assume she'd have heard of it.

Sepharcloud simply watches the riders on its side.

<> Demiurge says "Azalea, you'd have _seen_ it. You'd have seen the Unseelie sending a tribute of their own, as servants to Beleth. Every seven years."

<> Azalea figured.

Aron says "You ask whimsically, Majesty."

Phineas pages: Is my Mercurian attunement appropriate here? I'd like to know what it will take to keep the peace.

The woman shakes her hair back. "It is the prerogative of royalty. Have you anything you could offer me?"

You paged Phineas with 'Yes, entirely appropriate.'.

You paged Phineas with 'You can tell that some sort of act of submission by Aron - some sort of symbolic humbling - would satisfy her, and she'd let you pass.'.

Aron says "I can give you a story."

You paged Phineas with 'Like going on his knees and begging her pardon.'.

Phineas turns to Aron, "May I have a word with you?"

She laughs. "A story? It must be a great story, to be worth your lives and passage."

Aron nods to Phineas. "A moment, Majesty." He steps back, towards Phineas.

The woman regards the hounds. "Those dogs had best look to their teeth, and remember their spirit, if they wish to live beyond this day."

The hounds keep on milling and bumping each other, almost apologetically.

Phineas leans in to whisper to Aron, saying a softly as possible in Celestial, "She wishes to humble you. An appology. Submission to her .. authority in this realm. And she will then let us pass."

Aron frowns, slightly, and nods.

Phineas straightens up and goes back to watching the riders, sizing each up in turn.

Hitherby murmurs, "The only thing I own is a bit of amber. Well, and an ant. It's, you know, inside the amber."

Hitherby hums, faintly abashed.

Hitherby says "They do that sometimes."

Hitherby adds, "Majesty."

The riders are all gorgeously dressed in silks and velvets, all pale and thin, all pointed-eared, and all have the same look of slow considering coldness.

Aron moves back to the dark Queen. He speaks quietly, throat tight but eyes unwavering, "It would be a story of a bright Angel - too proud, by far - who by his deeds, and inactions, sent a piece of the world into hiding. It would be a story of his folly and his arrogance. And, in the end, it would be a tale of that angel humbled, apologizing before the restored faerie Court." His shoulders are squared, body held tense as a steel cable on a bridge.

Sepharcloud blinks at Aron's speech, and half its eyes watch him, even as the other half keep an eye on the circling cold riders.

Hitherby lands on a branch.

The Queen shakes the silks of her sleeve back from her white hand, and offers it towards Aron, delicately. "The Queen accepts your apology."

The Queen says, "You do not intend to remain long in my realm, I take it?"

Aron takes the hand and lowers lips to it, precisely. "No longer than necessary," he says, straightening. He is more reserved than usual.

The Queen's laugh is as beautiful and empty as ever. "Then, for the honour of your apology, and for the love I bear the Archangel of Animals, you may journey with my blessing. Take your friends."

Sepharcloud sighs very softly and comes out of the tree to land softly by the others.

Phineas nods a silent thanks to the Queen, his eyes still a little wary on the dogs and riders.

The Queen's voice is as cool as ice. "Get from my sight, Virtue."

The Queen gestures, and the dogs and riders hold their places, poised like statues.

Hitherby floats off the branch again, hovers in a vaguely Kyriotatish cloud, and studies the Queen. Then, unable to figure out what to say, she just adds, "Majesty," again, and drifts off when the others leave.

Aron steps back and nods. He says no more, but instead pushes into the air, once again following the compass.

Phineas waits for all the others to go first, taking the last spot, unless Eduardo insists.

Sephar follows quietly in the midst of the Host.

Hitherby morphs, twists, and tumbles from the air, a cat again, when the hounds are out of sight. She lands, naturally, on her feet; no one has buttered her.

Aron is resolutely silent, as he moves away from the queen, and in the direction the compass demands. His features are set in sharp lines.

---

Fiat Justitia