“But the problem is that there is a lot of cross-over and technically a portion of the Temple is Vigil.” Lykaia says, waiting for the gate to start doing what it is doing. This time, it is a different target location. The image slowly expands to some sort of balcony. “So it definitely happens and there is almost certainly close to no one saying anything about it if it happens. I’m just the annoying bitch telling people to go and die for that shit.”

A deep sigh leaves from her and she walks on through to the mirror to the other side. The exit location seems to be a balcony that overcloos the ocean to the east, and a snowy expanse to the west and north, where the floral path was that they had traveled to get to the fortress, and later to exit. The dark shadowy gate is much larger now, and there seems to be a constant influx of creatures that are passing through it, along with the distant and muted noise of combat. Small and low-set creatures crawl on fore-legs around that seem to be missing half their bodies, if they were complete canites. Red eyes and darkness trailing keeping its half-set body together.

“I guess today is going to be a day. Everyone knows how they can contribute? Or are there questions for it? Due to being a specific kind or not feeling up to par with combatant lifestyle?”

Darrow steps out onto the balcony, shouldering his bag and his bow, and looks out over the expanse before them, the shadowy creatures coming out of the dark gate, and lets out a slow breath. Then there’s a glance over toward Lykaia, “I’m guessing shoot them til they stop moving?” Both brows rise a little bit, “But I’m good at taking orders so if you’ve got any.. I’m game.”

Mercy wrinkles her nose at the strong detection of darker magics, the sight of the creatures, and maybe just having to be near Matthew again. Reaching back she grabs hold of her crossbow and cranes her neck to peer down at the movement below, taking preemptive aim just in case. “If we can close up where they comin’ out of an’ clean up the mess, maybe thas enough?”

Anyone looking at Matthew would identify his outfit is most certainly combat worthy, color coded in the forest greens associated of forest terrains, no camouflage print, but the tones of thoes colours make up the monochrome look he sports, look being the operative word here. One need only see how he stands, how he gazes out about the world, to tell this is not a man who’s used to combat–his pose is all wrong, the kind of thing you’d see in a magazine where the model was told to stand like a marine but any real serviceman could tell at a glance this is just a sheep in wolf’s clothing.

This stance and confidence lasts only long enough for the hissing sound of a magic missile in the distance and then he’s shrinking and skirting to take up the rear, a little too closely, to Mercy and Lykaia. “I’m an excellent medic,” he offers, “and I am quite good at taking cover,” he offers up as his most important skills.

Matthew says, as an afterthought, “Oh, and I’m willing to handle any negotiations and talking. I’m real likeable, I don’t think there’s anyone that wouldn’t like me.“

Matthew clearly hasn’t noticed Mercy’s disposition.

“Since when..” Mercy quietly but openly questions in light of Matthew declaring himself a capable medic, her eyes peering down at his hands like she can’t for the life of her imagine them digging shrapnel out of someone or setting broken bone.

Matthew digs into his pockets to produce some bandages, “Just cus I’ve never bandaged you up, don’t mean I don’t know how to patch ya up.”

Mercy just stares at the man with a blankness of eyes and face that could rival a corpse’s, skeptical. “.. Mmhm.”

“Perfect.” Lykaia says, making a slower nod, but she also then goes to open the door into what turns up to be a bedroom with a few portraits, and steps through it, starting the way down to wherever they must go. “I honestly don’t know what our goal will be, but if we can somehow find out how we can close the gate, then we will have certainly succeeded, and I’ll have fulfilled whatever obligation I had that I still didn’t know I had and still do not fully acknowledge and only come for precautionary to avoid bad attention.” She says that as if it had to be said, and then continues towards the ladder down. “So I would suggest we stick together, we let Matthew have cover and keep him safe and patch what he can up. Might as well be a mobile lifestation while looking for a way to close that thing.” She glances to Matthew “Do you know how to apply a tourniquet?”

Darrow looks around the bedroom that they appear in, taking in the decor for a moment, particularly the portraits with an artist’s eye before they begin heading down. There’s a glance between Mercy and Matthew, studying their interaction for a moment, but not getting into that conversation. “Closing the gate certainly seems like a good idea. If we can figure out how.”

Matthew glance over at Lykaia, continuing through the estate, “Close the gate, like…” he really can’t see much inside, “like the gate at Merric’s castle gate, or we talking portal into another area typea gate?” Mercy’s words do earn a snorted laugh, “I mean, I’ve kissed booboos plenty’a times,” gets claimed, “but I also know how to use my belt or whatever, to make a tourniquet.”

“I mean, we could blow it up, right? Blowing things up usually uh, does the trick?” Darrow offers, unhelpfully.

“Like it’s gotta be the Merric level gate, probably even has a watchman there guarding it, demanding all kinds’a riddles before they will actually open or in our case, close it all up.” Matthew nods, looking certain and without an ounce of doubt that he’s most likely, definitely, wrong.

Darrow nods, “I mean, something must have made it and is maintaining it right? Maybe we could find that and.. blow that up.”

“I suggest everyone start prepping to answer riddles,” Matthew advises the group poorly.

Matthew then nods at Darrow, “Yeah, or answer its riddles, if that’s what the ‘source’ is.” Of course the moment a riddle, in all his educated glory, he frowns, thinking long enough before a lightbulb goes off in his head. “Carrot!” He straightens up, clearly things are going to go well after all.

As the group then takes the ladder down and arrives in the living space of the estate, they do find that there is a bunch of people that would count as non-combatants sitting huddled together at places. When the party enters, they all look to them, and they do not find them to be threats. Lykaia does not glance to them and is already moving towards the front door, talking along. “Well, obviously it is a gate. Maybe if we just built a wall around it we could lock it up. Or try what Darrow suggests. Find what may maintain it, but I would like to not fight any Fae or powerful beings without a pretty huge army in my back on earth, or a nuke to go if it is a god.”

Mercy hears Darrow’s riddle, thinks on it for a second, and even though Matthew already answered, supplies her own guess. “Montrose after I throat punch him an’ toss hot cheeto powder in his eyes.”

Darrow nods “Like the shield generator in ah.. star wars.. it was star wars right?” He squints just a little bit, not really remembering if that’s the right movie or not. “If they’ll just hold still while we wall’m all in, that’d be cool.” He likes that idea even though he’s still trying to wrap his head around how that would work. Matthew gets a tap to his nose and a point to a finger. But Mercy’s answer gets a chuckle. “Yikes. Do you just carry around hot cheeto powder for emergencies?”

Instinctively, Matthew settles a hand on his throat, “Excuse me, but I will order a muzzle for you if you keep this up,” he warns Mercy. “I am the Deputy VP and therefor have that authority.” But does he really? Who’s going to enforce it, after all.

Mercy slides a cold glance towards Matthew and holds it there a few seconds, then smirks just a little before directing her attention to Lykaia instead. “Jus’ let us know how you wanna go ’bout this, an’ we got yer back.”

Darrow nods in agreement, “I’m in for whatever plan we’re going with. Though I’m now considering the feasibility of a hot cheeto powder cannon…”

snickers on Mercy’s words with the cheeto powder. “Ouch. Would not want that in the eyes myself, and I’m debating if Frostbitten eyelids falling off is worse or not.” When Mercy places the burden of figure it out on her, she does nod. “I’ll figure something out. For now, let’s just join the ladies down in their fortress, and we can get to the sitch from there.”

Matthew turns his head to look sharply at Darrow, “Yo… hot cheeto powder cannon would be fire.” And with that he carries on down, smart enough to figure out the riddle, but not smart enough to know what kind of gate they’re going to need to shut down. “Copy,” he says, slipping back into that movie marine method.

“The terrain is pretty open. I would say we do it in a kind of chain steps.” Lykaia says, a little thoughtful as it now goes through a door into some sort of checkpoint. “Make the fortress secure, sally out at an opportune opening and pierce north towards the gate. Might as well try to go through and risk death if it’s a void gate.” Then after a few more “I know, I am being sacrastic, who in their right mind would open a void gate? I’ll take a guess it is fae bullshit so it leads to fae bullshitton somewhere else.”

Darrow follows along with the others, brain obviously turning over ideas from the concentrated look on his face, trying to come up with possible solutions to their problem. “Maybe some of these guys can give us some cover so we don’t risk uh, piercing to the north and then getting surrounded by critters coming up behind us?”

Matthew frowns, listening and then pipes up, “The fuck a mansprinkler moment? You sayin we gonna piss ourselves?”

Matthew then look sto Lykaia, “This one of them things where I’m a boomer and they’re kids talkin in new lingo?”

It is now down along steps along of a coblestone path, out from that checkpoint. From here, the inside of the fortress can easily be seen. The four nymphs they had interacted with last, are present in the courtyard. There is some battle on the walls. The runes along it are aglow and create little magical barriers that the enemy cannot get through. A lot more of what was completely snowed in, as thawed, and the snow that is falling drifts down with flocks of black snow. “Some men do really like that idea of a last stand. Reality’s far more merciless. There is no glory in it. If you sought glory, you would only need to do it against the legion when they try kidnap people again, and see what happens to you if they let you live.”

Matthew’s question has her snicker. “I am actually just guessing, to be honest.”

Darrow is a teenage college freshman painter, not an action hero.

“Yo, I’ll leave the last stand to the women in this group,” Matthew decides, “they keep em busy while I run back to the mirror to get help.” There’s a firm nod, no masculine pride or ego here, he knows what’s what.

Mercy can’t help but bristle more and more with so much magic around them; she lacks the fur ruff to really pull it off but the upward flare of her shoulders and souring look on her face says enough. Nonetheless she pushes on with the others, gesturing at Darrow to indicate he was correct in his assessment of that epic maneuver, then honing her sights in on the familiar nymphs from their last trip. “Ah, our welcomin’ committee still here.”

“Well, technically… We are fighting alongside almost only women at its entirety.” Lykaia says, stepping out into the courtyard with the party. The four nymphs stand together, and look to be discussing something among one another looking north. Lykaia takes a hold of her blade and draws it. “Matthew. Do communicate on my proposed plan to the ladies and see if they have any opposition, if you could? Mercy, Darrow. How are you both looking with arrows? And Darrow, what can I expect from you as a combatant?”

Mercy takes a second to check the little quiver she keeps holstered at one hip and count the bolts. “Got about twenty bolts here, my knife of course, an’ you know worst case scenario my teeth.”

Darrow readies his bow and gets his knife out of his bag, attaching it to his waist instead of having it tucked away inside, preparing himself while Lykaia gives out the instructions. Glancing up, he says, “I’ve got my bow and my knife if I run out of arrows. I’m good on arrows, came prepared for that. I’m better with the bow than with the knife, but I’m not bad with it. I just prefer not to get up close if I can avoid it. I’m uh, you know, not Legolas.. but I can hit things.”

is a social media influencer who’s been fleshformed to look like he hits the gym without ever touching any weighs. “Oh, sure, I’m not sure what the proposed plan is…” he admits, which does absolutely nothing to slow him down. In true Montrose fashion he just keeps talking, already committed to this role he’d requested and been deligated like it’s improv. Flashing his most disarming smile, and waring his best charm, he steps up like he’s about to cut the ribbon at a ceremony instead of report for duty at the frontline of battle. “Hey, we’re back, and we’re here to help as promised! WE’re thinkin’ closing the gate’s probably the move here,” he continues, tone all hypothetical, “and if we can find the source, we can proooooobably” yes, there is absolutely a tone of uncertainty there, “handle the rest. But–”

Matthew’s gaze flicks to the nymphs, finally noticing the strain in their faces, the tremor in their arms, the way their shield is a burden to maintain and held together simply by sheer will and exhaustion. The smile falters, but only a fraction, replaced by something sheepish and apologetic. “… And, uh. clearly y’all are already doing the heavy lifting here.” He gestures vaguely at the black melting snow, just realizing that maybe brainstorming isn’t what they have in mind for solving problems. “So maybe before we talk strateegy, someone point me at whatever’s making this harder than it needs to be. I’m, like, real good at being a distraction, and I’m even better at getting in the way of things that shouldn’t be standing!”

“More ranger then.” Lykaia affirms that, making a nod before turning fully towards the north and the gate. “In that case, stay close to Matthew. Mercy and I will take point, swapping as we need. Maybe with some support we can get a resemblance of a wedge together.” She glances to Matthew, who’s gone off for his discussion. She had not listened to everything he was saying but the last word, of course.

The eight eyes belonging to four nymphs turn to Matthew when he steps into their conversation. Their eyes are this still shimmer that is actually really just cold but gives them the look that may just prompt a single thought to most people from their own attraction: ‘I can fix her’. The four sets of eyes then turn back to one another, and then turn to Lykaia, Darrow and then to Mercy and the one that last time, of course, did not say much, is the one that says it now “Thou have cometh in time. A beast hath eateth princess sparklancelot and her inith. Though shalst slay this beast and free-eth her highness, and then pusheth clock-wise to the gate. Bringeth along all who you free-eth from battle. If we can haveth them kept at their dark little gate, they shalt therefor be easieth.” She glances to the other nymphs and then back to Matthew “Dost thee understandeth?”

Mercy ticks her chin up at Lykaia in acknowledgement of that course of action, falling in line with the other woman until something briefly distracts her. “Whoa hol’ up they ATE THE PRINCESS?!” She exclaims and subsequently inserts herself into the discussion for a second, loudly. Very little gets past that canine hearing.

Darrow nods to Lykaia and says, “Okay. Works for me. I will stick with Matthew and cover.” For all his joking and off the cuff remarks, he does actually seem to be taking what they’re doing seriously when it boils down to it. There’s a very slow blink at the way that the nymph speaks and then he squints, “Uh, yeah. Kill the beast. Free the Princess who I’m going to assume is one of those sort of.. cut open the..” he pauses, rethinks, “Cut open the beast and free her from its belly.. situations? She’s gonna be whole in there, right? Like a fairytale, not in pieces? Please say not in pieces… anyway.. gather those we can free, take’m with us, go counter-clockwise to the gate.. and then.. profit. Like underwear gnomes.” What?

“Oh shit, we fightin’ a beast, like swallow the princess up in one–” Matthew bites the air, “bite kinda beast? Or more like…” Dem dog ears hear all, and before he knows it Mercy has inserted herself right into this conversation. “Wait, wait, wait,” a look is shot in the redhead’s direction but otherwise makes no move to dissuade her presence, “hol’ up. This soundin real dangerous. So we gotta fight the beast who ate princess Sparkles-a-lot and then the rest of the kingdom?” A pause for thought and then he’s asking, “So how big and what in the counterclockwise we doin’ to actually hurt it? Shoot em up with arrows and all that, or…?”

The nymph’s lip part into a little, mischievous grin. “Thou shallt become aware as thou becometh witness. Such is the nature of debt owed.” Though on the last words, her eyes specifically turn to Lykaia. “I shall prayeth thou shallt enjoyeth the deep blue of the sea, cold and freezing, for all paths lead to cold death when turned around.” She breathes out, and looks to her sisters and another picks up there. “Sweetcheeks, Her Highness, the Snow Witch and Winter Witch, shall not forget your good deed. Do be good and kill this annoying beast that ate up all of her princess-ness. Think about it as you becoming local heroes for her. I am sure she will celebrate you till the day she dies for it!” She rubs her hands together CRACK, a streak of black lighting creaks across the sky and she winces as it lashes into the wall in the northeast. For a second, she looks heart-broken, and then hurries away, in that direction, leaving three nymphs behind.

Darrow squints just a little bit and doesn’t at all look convinced by this cheerful delivery. If anything, he looks deeply suspicious. “I am not liking the sound of the deep and freezing sea bit. So let’s not get turned around, yeah?” The lightning gives him a slight flinch as it cracks into the wall and then he turns back to Lykaia “Okay so.. we find this beast and do some slaying?”

“Ayeah there better be like a statue erected in our honor somewhere, maybe like a fountain where m’standin’ over Montrose an’ the water comin’ out a hole in his neck..” There goes Mercy on one of her daydreaming tangents, but she’s quick enough to rein it all back in. “Think we get the gist, jus’ gotta make sure we ain’ like blow up the whole beast or stab it in the gut or what ever, be mindful of what’s inside. Anyway back that f-” She jumps from the CRACK, even louder for her, and almost stumbles into Darrow with all her panicked skittering.

Matthew shoots Mercy a wary look, “That sound’s like a shitty statue,” he decides, “what we really should have is a fountain of me in my merform, fighting the beast with one hand, while I’m draggin Mercy by the scruff her neck outta the water, savin’ her ass, once again.” A pause and he says, “I still ain’t forgot how I saved you from that vampire, either.”

“Wait you’re a mermaid? Okay, if there’s freezing water involved, we’re throwing you in first,” Darrow tells Matthew. That’s his take-away from this fountain discussion.

“Sure,” Matthew says, not at all upset at that prospect, “I’m your man if water’s involved.”

“Righ’ yeah -after- you tried to bargain with it an’ let it kill a buncha people..” Mercy mutters under her breath, shooting Matthew one of her ‘I’ll remember that for later’ looks.

Darrow reaches out a hand toward her shoulder as Mercy almost stumbles into him, but when she doesn’t collide, he lets it fall.

Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately) for Matthew, like almost everytime Mercy shoots him one of those looks, he’s already moved on and lost all notice to what she’s doing at all.

Once more, the nymphs look between each other, this time following Mercy’s request. And then back at her. One of them then says “We could arrange that.” And then they look to each other one more time before looking back at the group. “Both of them.” One shrugs. “Let me show you how to get there…”

It goes up atop of the wall. The whole conflict does not look as terrible from up here as it would have looked at first. There is these beasts rushing around, hunting, nibbling and dragging along of what’s fallen, but they are also not the only things. To the north is a massive alagamation that looks like it is slimey and goey darkness. It is attached to what looks to be a human woman at the back. It exists on two hands, with four more growing out of its back and a long tongue and big eyes. Which of these things may or may not be real is hard to tell. Half-rotten bodies of elks with shadowy darkness rippling up from its head with its antlers, and when the party dwells along the west wall, there is indeed a massive creature beyond the wall and across the moat. Some of the frozen water has been shattered and sunk in, which is probably the only reason it can’t ram the wall anymore. Its head is a deer head, with long horns and deer ears. Its eyes glow in a dark purple and a little glowing ball persists inside atop its head. A swirling vortex keeps spinning between its horns while the body features two legs, and rippling shadow that forms a vulpine body with hindtails and a far too long tail.

“Odd logic. For some reason, this is a thing in reality, too. If something looks like a weak point on armor, it probably is a weak point. Unless it is a bomb. Then you don’t want to touch the weak point.” Lykaia comments. Further to the south, the moat ends along a cliff to the ocean.

“Okay so shoot what looks like a weak point unless it’s a bomb in which case, don’t shoot the weak point or it will explode,” Darrow says with a puzzled expression. “And how do we tell the difference?” he asks after a moment of thought. “Guess we should get moving though if we want to get out there and get the Princess back. How long does a Princess take to digest, do you figure?”

Matthew kind of shakes his head at bewilderment, “I figure the Princes bein’ alive is a secondary goal,” he shares, fully displaying his indifference for the woman, “just gotta shut the gate down, but like–” a wary glance towards the direction of the nymphs, like maybe they know he’s not a knight in shining armor, “we should totally try to help her!”

“Just assume she’s been digested. Probably. And that there’s a corpse.” Lykaia says evenly, which the nymphs certainly do not seem to like as they all turn a heart-broken frown at her, but she then also just climbs atop the battlement to jump off from it, because of course that is what she does, calling back “Time to murder shit!” She does not land with grace at all. She slips and faceplants, but she also does not look injured. Bless all the first floor jump-offs she does from the balcony at home, but evidently she is expecting her body to function in a way that it currently simply cannot. “Are you three coming?” She asks, starting to rush across the cracked ice sheet, because what could possibly go wrong!

Mercy isn’t the most graceful either but she does get down without twisting an ankle or worse, and with a brief stumble catches her footing to run after Lykaia, ready for some action.

And away we go! When Lykaia jumps off the battlements, Darrow lets out a “Woo!” and off he goes, taking a running jump after her. He manages to stick the landing much to his own surprise. It’d look more epic if he didn’t look quite so surprised that it worked. And then he’s off, following the others across the battlefield.

Matthew tries to mimic Darrow and Mercy’s success and at least land on his feet (not his face) when he jumps hesitantly and last off the battlements with dexterity, running, fast reflexes

Matthew is about as lucky as Lykaia is when it come to the landing, minus any of the flair and swagger that saw her leaping the battlement. Anyone paying attention saw his hesitation and fear at this stunt before taking the plunge that does not earn him any cool points when he faceplants.

There might be some hurt ego somewhere in the woman rushing ahead across the ice, and probably almost slipping once or twice, as Mercy and Darrow all landed with much more grace than Lykaia did, but that is also easy to hide and it probably helps that Matthew did not manage to either, if he was a combatant. The silver of her blade flashes up, reflecting the sun-light and she tries to engage as she was often used to, directly and quickly. Except that she is not so fast and not so enduring and neither as strong right now.

Of course, the deer-shadow-creature-thing henceforth dubbed as the deer-monster was a good girl and sitting still glaring at the wall up until the woman’s weapon come swinging at her, which prompts it to jump away to evade it and make a squealing sound that is its own beautiful hymn.

It swashes its tail around, trying to swat away at her and everyone trying to jump it from the ice. The glowing orb in the top of its head glow brightly.

Matthew is more than a little dazed and lags behind, following mutely as he regains composure.

Mercy hears something smack hard into the ice behind her, and glances over a shoulder just in time to witness Matthew’s epic failure. A smug grin tugs at her lips but she’s already front-facing again to keep on Lykaia’s heels while trying to avoid slipping herself along the way; she is not a winter-accustomed creature by any stretch. With the largest of the creatures now within range, she loads a bolt into the crossbow, lifts it- and then had to fling herself out of the way of the swipe just as she was about to take a shot.

Darrow is off after Lykaia like a shot, fueled by pure adrenaline and the high that he didn’t fall on his face, he brings up his bow and prepared to fire on the deer creature thing. It’s kind of beautiful in a weird and warped sort of way and part of him feels a little bit bad about shooting at it, but there’s a Princess to rescue and a gate to close and he’s trying to keep his head in the game. He can feel something in the air. “Can you feel that?” he asks the others. “Like… that specific magic?” Then, oop, tail!

Lykaia raises her blade to resist the swat of the tail, and while she manages the parry, it also does push her several feet backwards. Mercy was behind her, evading it proved reasonably able but she cannot manage to readjust her crossbow in time for a good shot, and for Darrow, he is behind Mercy, and needs less effort to evade and does so with beautiful ease.

Just as Darrow mentions something may be wrong, there is the fizzling sound of something freezing that fizzles across the air. White snow begins to mix in with the black snowfall, and a dozen, small glowing lights, fae sprites, for the well-aware hunters, draw up from the nearby forest and come chiming this way. Their chime is the little trumpet sound of a charging cavalry, in a wedge towards the beast.

The beast growls and keeps trying to swap with its tail, having found its most annoying target for the moment in Lykaia whom parried her, though it does seem to also avoid trying to step onto the ice when the combat may take it closer to it.

“Darrow!” Lykaia shouts. “You think you can try get an arrow at its throat, or the weird fucked up glowing thing at the top of its head? Hitting a foreleg would be good, too.” She gets punished by it for shouting, as the tail does hit her square at the side with a bad oompf.

When Lykaia calls out, Darrow nods and says, “Got it.” He swiftly takes aim at the glowing thing in the middle of the creature’s forehead and draws back his bow, taking careful aim. One indrawn breath, one slow exhale, and then he lets the arrow loose. It flies through the air, and at first it looks like the shot might go wide, but no. It might not quite be a bull’s eye but it hits that glowing spot. And when it does, he throws up both hands in the air, one still holding the bow, “GOT IT!”

Mercy tries to recover after her tumble and roll but she’s covered in snow and still trying to get her bearings. It seems Darrow is the hero this world needed today.

The arrow lands and the deer lets out several louder squeals, jumps back, and starts choking, and choking some more – and then swirls around to flit away from Lykaia, Mercy, Darrow and Matthew, rushing north. The fae-sprite brigade that’s drawing from the forest is still trying to fly after it, but the little creatures are still pretty far away. Lykaia tries charge after it. “GOOD SHOT!” She shouts.

“Aw hell no- GET BACK HERE AN’ GIVE US BACK PRINCESS SPARKLEPANTS!” Mercy shrieks as she collects herself and takes off after the monster, haphazardly trying to aim her weapon and stay in range at the same time.

Darrow tries to chase after the deer thing when it takes off, “Oh shit!” He goes to take off and hits a slick spot of ice, slips, face-plants right into the snow, and his bow goes flying out of his hands. A stream of curses come out of his mouth as he scrambles to try to get back to his feet and find where his bow landed in the snow.

Dawn the deer beast! It’s running off, sprinting now towards the north. A bolt flies through the air from Mercy’ but princess Sparkle-lot-cess may forever be lost now! The deer-beast squeals and squeals more and then louder again, and it draws a lot more attention, too. Darrow falls, and he falls pretty badly. There is some blood, nothing that would significantly hinder someone, but there is still the pain and discomfort that comes with it. From a distance, far out of reach now, the deer-beast starts choking again, and throws something shiny up, and then keeps running north towards the black gate. The fae-sprites keep chasing it, or rather, towards the place where it threw something up at.

“Welp, fuck, it’s… run away?” She asks, the tone without a doubt towards confused disbelief. “We are fighting monsters, right?” She asks, glancing to the others, pausing for this single moment.

To nobody’s surprise when it came to doing anything remotely combative and physical Matthew is nowhere to be found. Like… seriously, where is he? The monster’st rail swiped and swooped and he was soooooo far back that it was never a threat. Likely nursing his wound (his pride) when the real danger starts to flee. And then suddenly there’s Montrose, charging like he means business, “Hold up, slow your roll,” and he pulls from his bag of tricks an airhorn, sounding it in hopes that it startles and slows the monster’s flight.

The fates couldn’t hand Matthew a win if they wanted to, some other entity is pulling the strings and enjoying watching his failures stack up. #Fabledlife

Darrow manages to pull himself up out of the snow, his jeans torn (moreso than usual) and a bit of blood from the gash seeping into the fabric. He grumbles at the wound but manages to pull himself to his feet and find his bow. Then, he’s taking off after the deer thing, following the path toward whatever it was that the thing horked into the snow.

Mercy cannot begin to curse her luck between two failed attempts to stop the thing, and having to endure Matthew’s contribution of pulling out an airhorn which even then proves too high a feat for the man to accomplish. Being a predator whose attention is often very easily seized by movement, she hardly notices that it spewed something up and keeps trying to chase it- poorly, because she’s not meant for the ice and snow and neither are her boots which slip, slide and make her teeter all over- while yelling. “EY! EY GET YER ASS BACK HERE NOW!”

HONK Matthew’s airhorn makes and the deer beast jumps, as if sparked to terror by the noise, speeding up even more on its dash away. Oh no, how could it abandon the fight and the party like this!?

Darrow manages to make it there first, which really causes Lykaia to run after him. It does lead them past where the Moat turns and a little further. The north of the castle, the drawbridge is lowered and several dozen of women are fighting, with both magic and weapon, against different creatures. Fortunately the party can slip by with all of them kind of busy over there with that sieging.

When Darrow reaches the sparkly thing, he sees a glowing doll that looks chewed up. It even has a little crown stitches atop of its head. The wedge of fae sprites still are steering mid-flight, now directly in his direction, soon to arrive.

Everything feels too cold.

Matthew is at a cross roads, he follows after Darrow and Lykaia to wherever their pitstop led them, or he keeps hoofing it after his biggest fan, Mercy. Decisions, decisions. He veers off towards the two that don’t want to smash his face in. “Damn,” he huffs out, pausing to catch his breath, “I really thought that thing would work.” He glances at the airhorn and tucks it back away where it came from as he fishes out for something else: a pair of binoculars. Those get pointed towards the north, trying to study the details of that silouhette through a mundane lens.

Darrow crouches down when he comes to the sparkling thing in the snow. He picks upt he glowing doll that looks chewed on with its little crown on its head. “Well.. I think I found Princess Sparklepants.” He glances after the deer thing and says, “But it looks way more like a chew toy than a Princess. And I’m wondering if that deer isn’t .. a dog glamoured or something.. and this all feels.. weird.. like all this snow is some kind of ritual magic, making it colder than it should be. Maybe we could stop the ritual..? Or.. cast our own to warm it up?” He looks over at Lykaia, puzzled.

Mercy doesn’t actually get very far before the combination of unsteady footing, intense cardio and freezing air in her lungs wears her right out and brings her to a halt. Panting, hair slicked back with frozen sweat, she lumbers her way over to where the others had gotten to.

Ta-ta-taa! The fae-sprites draw closer, and Lykaia stares at Darrow, and then looks to Mercy, then to Matthew, and then back to Mercy. “Well, I would say we should ask the chew toy expert…” She says as much with a light tone. “But she’s running ahead of us…” And it is when Mercy joins them that she mentions “Mercy, so…” Ta-ta-ta-ta-taaa! Oh no, the fae-sprites arrives, it circles and spins around of Darrow, and then the one at the front of their wedge makes to try and grab the doll out of Darrow’s hand.

“Uh… guys,” Matthew murmurs, fear creeping up into his tone, all his attention narrowed into the scope that is his binoculars where they remain focused on the shadow approaching them to the north. “Not tryna be–” he’s totally oblivious to the situation more immediately at hand, offering nothing but information that is undercut by the faelings trying to faenap that ‘chew toy’ from Darrow’s hands (hopefully someone better equipped at intervening will do better than his info dump). “That shadow heading our way, that’s definitely a Faelord and I’m pretty sure we shouldn’t be tryna fight THAT!”

Mercy finally makes it over just in time to have no time at all to catch up on what’s going on, but she does detect the fear in Matthew’s voice and while that’s hardly unusual, this time it seems bad enough that the group as a whole may want to consider it. “The fuck? Do we gotta turn tail an’ run?”

Darrow tries to keep hold of the chew toy, holding it close against his body and squints at the little sprites. “Hey now, I got it back fair and square.” Then he says to the others, “Weren’t we supposed to rescue sparklepants, free the combatants, and head clockwise? What’s clockwise from here? Maybe we tell these people the siege is all an illusion, get them all to run with us?” He looks at the shadow in the distance. Which way is that coming from. Hopefully the opposite direction they need to go in. “Maybe the Faelord just wants his doggie and his chew toy back?”

“I mean….” Matthew finally lets those binocs fall to dangle from around his neck. “Like… I’m def not tryna fight a Faelord, and I def don’t need ANOTHER debt with a Faelord so….” he’s not outright saying it, but his tail is definitely tucked and he’s all but turning to leave. “If this the princess, maybe we bring her back and assess, right? Like, there a counterclockwise path we can take to get back that don’t mean we intercept with that Faelord?”

“But we ain’ even save Princess Sprinklebottoms!!” Mercy exclaims, getting the name wrong again and not making any connection with the chew toy until Matthew implies it might be her. Then she rounds on him. “What’d you do to her?!”

Does it matter what, if anything, Matthew did on her? There are fae spirits circling Darrow right now. “I thought it was counterclockwise,” he insists, and then turns to reply to Mercy, “I didn’t do a damn thing, this what the shadow monster did, why don’t you bite them, they’re tryna steal it before we can get her back!”

Matthew says, snidely, “Go bark up some other tree bout princess sparklechew“

The small brigade of fae-sprites all circle around Darrow, raising their little fists at Darrow. They are chiming loudly and angrily, though the one that tried to take the doll eventually perks up and shouts brightly at Lykaia’s, and more specifically, the fae-sprite on her shoulder: “HI EIRLYS! TELL THIS DUMB THIEF TO GIVE US BACK OUR FAVORITE PRINCESS!” She tries poke Darrow at the side of the stomach with little poke poke pokes. Worst, they all ignore the warning of what is coming.

“Could make a dash to the gate. Does not seem to be in a hurry, but that guy’s probably an enemy. Not looking like the White Witch at all.” Lykaia says as her physical motions visibly slow, she breathes out, and seems to relax. “But I’m not sure if it is worth the effort. Not like there seems to be any danger to us here… kind of disappointing with it being a siege… it is almost…” She trails off.

“It was definitely clockwise,” Darrow insists, “And guys this really, really.. does all seem like just an illusion, all of it.” He gestures at the siege going on around them. “We need to shake’m out of it.” Meanwhile he’s got his own little glitter army trying to get at the chew toy that he’s still got clutched against his chest. “Yeah it is almost as though there’s no real actual danger at all,” he once again says to Lykaia. “It’s like this is all an illusion.. and whatever we just shot at.. wasn’t even a deer thing.. I’m gonna feel real bad if I just popped Lassie in the noggin.”

Matthew look around, he’s not at all clocking the illusory nature of it all, despite belonging to the Illusory Court – but leave it to a Faeling to be mixing up the directions and insisting clockwise directions were actually counterclockwise. “Oh fine,” he says, giving up the argument, “if you say it was clockwise then it was clockwise, but still pretty sure…” a look is passeed on over to Mercy, “Yo, you smell more dogs around or we just playing fetch with Mercy’s sister… or brother… or mother….” he snickers at his own joke.

“It was clockwise!” Mercy insists to put the argument to rest, surely she heard correctly and was paying attention. Matthew earns himself another of her incensed stares and for the moment, she ignores him. “Well real or not we ain’ gonna get nowhere standin’ here, so where we gotta bring this..” Her eyes find the doll in Darrow’s possession again. “.. Maybe Princess Sprankletrousers to ensure she’s safe?”

The snowfall grows heavier and heavier, within the brief blink of the eyes as lashes flutter down quickly, and the fog from the west starts to cover it all. Gentle snowdrift has turned into the battering end of life, as it settles atop of clothing, hair, along the sleeves and sticks to the surface of clothing. The fae sprites harassing Darrow all drop one by one, then motions become harder and the joints of limbs feel as if they begin to freeze, and motion becomes not an option. Matthew freezes at the end of his snicker, Lykaia freezes on the spot, looking like she is at peace, Darrow as he just finishes telling her his idea about the deer beast, and Mercy as she finds the doll in Darrow’s posession with her eyes again. Trails of glittering ice carries across the sky, and a woman with a short white dress and a large hat with a veil draped across and hanging loose down to hide her face, glides through the snow from the snow. She steps past the party and does call out to the fae Matthew had seen not long ago “Halt your games now, trespasser, for the Court of Souls shall entertain you no longer. Take your toys, and leave my land, or I shall shatter them as I do a sculpt of ice and my matron, the Queen of the Soulsong, shall gather all of us to hunt you down.” Of course. It is always a dumb bored fae to start the shit and cause their favorite kind of chaos.

It does take minutes, frozen and with a cold that makes the body shiver, before whatever this game was, does actually start to dissolve. The beasts of darkness start running north, the fog covers most, but it can be heard, and when the fog lifts, neither the gate nor the beasts, nor the dark fae remain.

It is only her now, the White Witch, and she turns her attention to the party as limbs unfreeze and motion becomes possible again. “You are debtors that came to offer your aid to repay what is owed?”

Everyone that knows somewhat about elemental magic would probably understand that what happened is a fae-version of what is known as coldsnap in cryomancy.

Darrow freezes still with one hand clutched around his bow and the other clutched around the doll that is held to his chest as he stiffens and can no longer move. Even his eyeballs hurt, stuck as they are with the winter chill on them. That stings. He watches as the Winter Witch arrives and the Faelord and his games depart. Unable to do anything else, he stands there until he’s finally released from the chill. Wrapping both arms around himself, he shivers, teeth chattering. “Not a debtor,” he corrects, perhaps boldly “But did come to offer aid with whatever was owed.”

That smug smirking look melts right out of Matthew’s face once he thaws, replaced now by one of awe and, surprise surprise, a little fear. “A debtor… yes, to the Court of the Bayking….” implying he does not owe THIS Faelord anything, definitely bold. “But—” a nod is granted in Darrow’s direction, hopping onto that wagon, “we’re here to help, that’s for sure. And don’t worry, I’ll consider us even because you’ve so graciously shared your domain with me…” a pause and then he’s motioning towards Mercy and Lykaia, “I mean all of us!” Making an attempt to bargain out of any future debts.

Mercy unfortunately emulates Matthew for once in showing some fear, and otherwise being dumbstruck once the experience of being a living popsicle is over. Now she has to try and process how pretty well everything had just been an elaborate game bolstered by illusion. She really hated magic. And fae. “We- but the- it-” She stammers, the mental upload taking some time.

“You showed with borrowed bravery and an earnest heart then, turning your young nerves into true courage.” The White Witch answers Darrow first, her tone calm and in beautifully frozen harmony. Her eyes fall onto the doll in Darrow’s hand. “Do you wish to keep it?” She asks before her tender attention pulls to Matthew like metal to a magnet. “You smile with the knowing to unlock some hearts like a lockpick may a lock, and still came through knowing the danger.” She pauses, and considers him. “Very well. I shall accept your proposal, and even we shall be henceforth.”

Her gaze pulls away from Matthew, back to Mercy. She smiles at her, under that veil, not that the veil really allows that to be seen. And lastly, it goes to Lykaia. “Your debt is null and void. Your mistress traded it to me, a thorn for every piece of knowledge you were given.”

Snow drifts from the skies above. “You would be welcome to stay and call my land your home, should you ever wish, just know that we lay the seed of pain in all its beauty, from when it drives one to despair, to the moment it drives one to the grandest heroics and the greatest acts of goodness. All stems from pain, and pain is but a stepping stone in many directions.” She makes a little sigh. “Do you have any questions, I shall grant you one, or are you all fleeting to leave already?”

Mercy starts to relax once the shock and confusion wears off, though she’s still eyeing the doll Darrow has with a furrowed brow. “.. So much fer that fountain..” She mumbles, but a job well done all the same is its own reward for the most part. “Jus’ glad we could be of service, ma’am. If there ever more troubles down the line, holler.”

Matthew accepts the praise but like all things Faelord, he look wary of it at best. His demeanor is one of humility–a rarity for the Montrose–and even earns a bow and polite, “Of course, your Highness.” He glances at Mercy when she mentions the fountain and then again when she offers up a FREE favor down the line in silent, but open protest before he schools that back and into his HR smile. “Thank you.”

Mercy did not say free, but nor did she specify who would be coming to help- more than likely, she had every intention of drafting Matthew to the cause. She meets his glance, smiles thinly, and holsters the crossbow in preparation to depart.

Darrow glances down at the chew toy that he’s still holding onto and says, “Oh.. I meant to return it to whom it belongs. So.. if that’s you..” He extends it toward her, willing to part with it. He hadn’t meant to steal it or anything. He glances then toward the others as the Queen turns to speak to each of them, grinning a little as the debts are marked away. “Your realm is beautiful, and beauty does often come from pain. I’d like to visit again sometime, so thank you for the welcome.” He tries to think if he has any questions.

“Of course, valiant hero.” The White Witch answers Mercy, her tone humble and low and she does make a little curtsy to her. “If the statue was promised, the statue will be. Only give them a few days, for them to make it in your honor. Then it goes back to Darrow for her, a little turn of her body, and she does extend her hand to pick the doll from his hand. “Be welcome to, the land is beautiful with the endless flow of life, and before we know it, one growth will have ended, and a new one will have flowed forth.” The little fae sprites also come by and rise to the air, and with the doll in their mistresses’ hand, they circle in around her.

“I wish you fare well.” Are the last words that come from the Witch, before she drifts away, as if carried along, towards the north. Now, the party was alone and Lykaia glances from one to the other. “Shall we set for home?”

“Of course, valiant hero.” The White Witch answers Mercy, her tone humble and low and she does make a little curtsy to her. “If the statue was promised, the statue will be. Only give them a few days, for them to make it in your honor.” Then it goes back to Darrow for her, a little turn of her body, and she does extend her hand to pick the doll from his hand. “Be welcome to, the land is beautiful with the endless flow of life, and before we know it, one growth will have ended, and a new one will have flowed forth.” The little fae sprites also come by and rise to the air, and with the doll in their mistresses’ hand, they circle in around her.

“I wish you fare well.” Are the last words that come from the Witch, before she drifts away, as if carried along, towards the north. Now, the party was alone and Lykaia glances from one to the other. “Shall we set for home?”

Matthew dips his head at Lykaia, consenting to the offer, “Yes, let’s head on.”

Darrow gives a dip of his head to the Queen as she takes the doll and slips his hands into his pockets, turning to the others and nods, “Yeah.. I think that was enough of an adventure for one day. I need to thaw my bones out.” He gives a little shake of his wounded leg just to make sure it’s still bendy, and then seems ready to take off across the snow. “Let’s hoof it.”

Mercy may not be the most eloquent speaker, or even one prone to especially good manners, but the way she sets one foot back to dip into a practiced curtsy of her own is almost too perfect for someone so inelegant to pull off. “My thanks, ma’am.” And with that she retreats to Lykaia’s side, ready to warm up.