He Was a Hotel Detective [IC]

[Aoiroo]

Nick was friendly enough, Morgan was cautious, Etain however put on her best smile as she slid off the back of the gargoyle,

"Good day, I am not of the heritage to know a gaelic tongue but I trust Morgan to have spoken with great civility."

She examined the spears with a steady eye, they were very well made, and likely well used as well. It made her more comfortable then she should of been, but it had been a while since she'd seen real battle ready weaponry. Claremont had impressive training replicas, but real weapons were what she was trained of and the memory of home made her smile more.

Glancing down the plains she gestured towards Custos,

"As you can see, I have brought a friend gifted with flight. On such dangerous plains, would it not be better to have an aerial advantage as we travel to our destination?"

[trollthumper]

The Fianna looked to one another, then to Crow. They drew back their spears; as they did, Changeling noted the tips were something like bronze, sharpened to a fine point. Even though the men were on guard, things hadn't gotten to the point where they were carrying iron openly - something akin to firing wildly into the air with a flamethrower in some of the regions bordering Avalon. "The laws still hold strong," the one on the right said, "even as the land is taxed. Greeting, daughter of Avalon, walker of death, and son of crows."

"Looks like I've got something new to put on my business cards," Nick said. "I'd ask what's taxing the land, but I've got a pretty good idea..."

"And it would be correct," said the leading Fianna. He walked over to Custos, taking up Changeling's suggestion. The gargoyle was able to easily sit them all, and soon took flight over the hills of Mag Mell. Custos flew past the peaceful valley they'd landed in, and the more he rose, the more the travelers from Freedom could see distant fires on the horizon. "The Sunken Children are massing at the borders. They have yet to breach our defenses... but then again, they aren't putting much effort into it."

"Think they're just the diversion?"

"For what? All they have are scouting parties. No siege engines, no warpsmiths, none of the nobles, either. Just misshapen rank and file. And we..."

The coastline approached, a marble beach against a sea of sapphire and jade. Seated above the shores on a massive cliff was a castle of black basalt. The battlements were heavily staffed, the soldiers - some of them wearing woad and leathers under armor that looked almost ceramic - loading ballistas on to the walls. The weapons were silver and faintly luminous, their heads cracking with lightning.

"...we have the advantage. Forgive the ostentation, a little fancy of the Long Hand."

[Quinn]

His eyes narrowed at the address 'son of crows', but he made no mention of it. Simply a hand-wave as he mounted up on Custos, sitting cross-legged. The talk of Fomorians made him ponder. These men and women were fighting those monsters since before his dad's greatest ancestor was born - wars between titans and powers that dwarfed the imagination.

He looked at the castle of black basalt and the weapons they were pushing. Now that was artifice beyond anything he could manage at the moment. One day, though...he returned his mind back to the assault described. So far as he knew, offenses from the Fomor weren't anything knew; rank and file zerg rush was probably their way of reminding the Tuatha that 'oy, we're here'. On the other hand...

The teen cast a look towards the lead case. Crowe could almost visualize the siren call of that chaos magic screaming to the Fomor. And they were taking it right to the borders.

Morgan Crowe ruthlessly suppressed a shiver. He spoke coldly and flatly, drawing himself back into the persona of Crow. It was the safest place for him right now.

"Bres the Beautiful is no fool. An mad tyrant, but no fool. How many contingencies do you have if something is up in the wind?"

[Aoiroo]

Etain had to take a second not to chuckle at daughter of Avalon. Given she doubted there was an amending that to adopted daughter, she was fae like enough to register she was certain. Looking at the edges her eyes searched through the colors that was mag mell, not just the shimmer of that visible, but the swirl of the magics inherent in the lands, the calm, and the defenses and the spells of every day life. Though not as much as Avalon. She heard the talk of the Fomor and the war they had at the edges, but also of the assurance they had that they could beat them,

"The earnest should never be underestimated, and are we not what is in the winds with the cargo we have in tow?"

[trollthumper]

The Fianna laughed, though there was an element of nervousness. "Ah, you have Balor's marble," he said. "Yes, I imagine each and every one of those misshapen lumps below would tear themselves apart, hand over foot, for the chance to return it to their nobles."

"...and that's the benefit, isn't it?" Nick said. "As long as it's here, they don't care about any other goal than getting their hands on it. And if they ever get close to doing so, they rip themselves apart over it."

"That's the problem with Chaos. Leads to crap discipline and even more crap plans."

At the Fianna's urging, Custos touched down on one of the lower battlements. The other warriors gave a brief salute as the Fianna led the heroes of Freedom down into the main hall - and if the battlements were crowded, it was a wonder anyone had room to breathe in the castle proper. Warriors moved in and out, handing off arms, armor and supplies, while druids worked spells into the walls to keep them firm and warded. The main hall itself was warm and smoky, as six mighty cauldrons bubbled up and down its length. For half a second, Nick thought they were to feed the armies... before he remembered just what else cauldrons could do in Celtic lore.

"How well stocked are these things?" he asked, looking over the rim of one. The fumes were heady and noxious, and he quickly withdrew before he could get a good look at the ichor. He wouldn't be surprised if there was woad in it, though.

"Full enough to bring half a hundred men back from the brink of death..."

The lord of the castle stood before them, emerging from the smoke. His long, black hair was drawn back in a ponytail, framing a handsome face tipped off with a trim, black beard. His armor was silver and sapphire, with filagree of seashells and waves, and wore a sword that looked sharp enough to part impervium around his waist.

"...or one back past that." Manannan mac Lir turned his gaze onto Crow. "Greetings, son of crows. My men tell me you've brought a little trinket that may have our guests up in arms."

[Quinn]

The mortal teenager looked up at the ancient immortal, a being with likely far more raw power than he would ever come to possess, and a saying came to mind. A cat can look at a king...but he doesn't have to lick his boots.

Still, it couldn't hurt to be polite. Crow bowed from the waist - stiffly, but respectfully. Though he did speak in English instead of the Old Gaelic (albeit in that flowery speech he really couldn't stand). If nothing else than to remind himself he was a world apart from these beings. "Greetings, Manannan mac Lir. Honors to your house and your men - they brought us here in all haste. And aye, we've brought a trinket that might give them cause for irritation. I hear Bres is wanting his ever-so-sparkly paperweight back." Smirk.

So much for flowery speech.

[Aoiroo]

Custos stayed outside. She did not doubt he had never officially left the realm he called home, but had the ability to do so as long as he fufilled his role as a guardian, and as theirs he was allowed to examine the scape for threats while taking it in the sites. She kept a few steps behind the others her eyes taking in the scenery, there was ancient magic at work, in more then large pots. Protections, guards, various things put in place to help any warriors. It was comfortingly familiar even if some of the magics were not and she was not terribly perturbed by the conversation as there was very little discussed she could not see for herself.

When they came Manannan mac Lir, Etain did not bow nor curtsy in fact, she owed no such favors to a leader she did not recognize, she did smile though. It lit her face enough to seem a gesture of appreciation in of herself. Her posture was at good attention as her umbrella hung from her wrist of her folded hands,

"There is many who would likely seek the paper weight, chaos is sought but usually misunderstood by the seeker. So like the men we are most eager to keep it out of the seekers hands, by the hands of those who do not seek it. I hope there are none in your ranks who would seek, it would be most unfortunate."

[trollthumper]

"There are none," said Manannan mac Lir, "and if there were any, they would have the decency to kindly throw themselves off the parapets. They know what an affront chaos is, and that there is no reward that is worth such risk."

"Gotta love hardcore loyalty," said Nick. "Wonder how you drive it into them."

"As if I need to." He pointed his arm towards the thick gates of the castle. "Too often do the banners of the Fomorians rise. My men have seen dozens of times over the wretches that power makes of its soldiers." He looked over to Crow. "Speaking of such power..."

"We know this is a sensitive situation, but --"

"No, no. It is perfect. Their precious gem, their master's eye, here behind these very gates. It will drive them mad to hear of it." He stroked his chin. "Of course, I have no mind to keep it here. Best to give them a reason to be angry without a means to exercise that rage. Shall we see their beloved marble?"

[Quinn]

"No."

Crow's voice was strong - stronger than he expected it to be. The urge to take the orb out was also surprisingly strong; hence the knee-jerk reaction. They had it locked and chained, bound for good and all. The Eye would never see daylight again if he could help it. The black-clad cowl righted himself, and looked Mannanan Mac Lir right square in the eye. It took an executive command from his brain to keep his knees from shaking, and he adopted the best (or closest) to an imperturbable expression he could possibly manage. Stone-faced. That was the watchword now.

"The marble is thrice-bound and chained. In iron and lead and steel. And I'd bet dollars to doughnuts you can feel the chaos magic just radiating from the damn thing already. The Eye will never see freedom again, even in the smallest form. Too...dangerous."

The young voice brooked no argument, but it did waver slightly on the last comment. Crow crossed his arms, hoping he could keep as adamant a front as possible.

[Aoiroo]

"Agreed,"

Etain added with just a nod as she stood by Crows side looking at the Mannanan Mac Lir not with an air of any defience or arguement. Just quiet certainty that this is how it should be. The object was too dangerous,

"Now would you be so kind as to show us to the additional accomedations you have for its storage then we should get this put even more out of reach. Even with the certainty of its location, we should mask the aura of chaos as best we can."

[trollthumper]

Manannan stared down Crow, looking as if he was about to blow a gasket. Just when it looked like the fury was going to boil over, the god let out a powerful laugh that resounded through the halls of his castle. "He learns quickly," he said. "Some of my men could do better when it comes to suicidal orders. As for where that little trinket should be held, well..."

He led the group to a balcony that looked over a small lagoon, a select portion of the endless seas of Mag Mell. Even from this distance, Nick could tell that the currents beneath were strong enough to drag anything below in a matter of seconds. "This is where our realm touches everywhere," he said. "Gateways to Avalon, the firmament, even the other dead dominions, for when their lords and ladies call us to the table."

"So, your secret hiding place is... everywhere."

"And nowhere. The currents of Mag Mell drag one along their way, but trying to force one's way through them is an exercise in futility. Only I have mastered them - and even then, only half the time. And I have had longer than most. And the pattern they weave is so intricate that chaos could not hope to break them through sheer force alone."

"Not bad, I suppose. Still, when you say 'most'..."

"I meant 'most.' Well, there was that one, but... he'll be staying put for some time."

[Aoiroo]

"Tethra,"

She looked at him, thoughtfully,

"The dead king, where is he staying put. I think that may be a good consideration with this artifact. The dead do not always stay to their sleep, sometimes they look for new ways to emerge and if anything could disturb the death the chaos of this orb would definitely do so."

Etain glanced at the streams, but could only just. If she looked for long her eyes would lose their light and color as it would overwhelm her senses. But still she glanced to see if there was a hint of his presense reaching. One can never know.

[Quinn]

Crow rubbed his chin, recalling the old legend of King Tethra. He'd punched things bigger and nastier than guys like him before, both living and dead, but the thought of something like that getting it's hands on the Eye...

He shied his mind away from it. Not borrowing trouble. Except...damnit, it was his job to do that. With the Irregulars, he's always the one thinking of how things can go wrong and how to counter them. He was the one who looked at worst-case scenarios and had a plan for them. They trusted him to do that. The teenager rubbed the point between his eyes, looking at the box with definite distaste. Annoying. Highly annoying. Okay, focus - the king was dead. Long live the ki-okay, that one was bad. Focus on the word. Dead. Capital D-dead. As in deceased. As in spiritual or skeletal; either one was a possibility. He cast his mind back to some of the treatises on the undead he'd read in the Parkhurst library.

A few seconds passed in thoughtful silence before a very calm voice spoke to Nick. "We'll need wards to counter post-living entities on the box as well. Spiritual and physical. Can you manage it?"

[trollthumper]

"Yeah, I can definitely manage that," Nick said. He studied the lead box; while he didn't doubt Manannan mac Lir's word on how safe it would be, a safe layer of wards to protect it from interference by dead gods...

Well. "Dead" might not have been the best term. "Metamorphically challenged" would probably cover all the bases in this situation.

"It may take me a little time. But if I've got a good workshop, I can probably set up a good series of runes that'll repel... the entity in question."

"You should have plenty of time. The Fomorians are mulling, but have yet to make a move. With enough time --"

A twisted war horn, sounding like a trombone that was being crushed by a steamroller, rang out across the plains. A loud roar sounded out soon after, like thunder striking close by. In the distance, a mound of earth went flying up into the air, clearing 25 feet before plummeting back to the ground.

"What are they..." Manannan mac Lir gazed out upon the horizon, and Nick followed. Even from this distance, he could see something pinging him death senses - something deep and black, writhing within the pit. "They found his arms. How did they break those wards? I..." He drew his sword. "This was a distraction. They're trying to raise their dead lord!"

[Aoiroo]

Etain whistled and Custos came flying from the distance. She looked at Manannan mac Lir,

"What type of ward did you use, and can it be replaced. Perhaps we could re establish a stronger one to stop the rise completely. How likely is it that we can destroy the opposition completely otherwise, is there any particular protections we should be aware of? Are the creatures sheilded against any particular magics?"

She got right to the point even as Custos landed she was already climbing and getting ready to take off,

"Also, I do not fancy the item of chaos being lost in battle, nor do I think it should be left in the rivers without the ward. So should someone stay behind to ensure it is kept safe?"