Pulse of the Forest, Impulse of the Inquisitive

[Callo]

With the ominous eclipse darkening the whole of Alanor, it was near impossible to tell eve from morn by looking up to the sky. The coppery tint that the landscape had been cast into hinted at daylight, which was perhaps the only possible clue to the time aside from the gradually increasing chorus of wakening fauna. A light rain had been falling most of the morning and had only just stopped. Because of it, the foliage now possessed an eerie glean that seemed offset by the pleasant scent of fresh precipitation. A fog lolled mere inches above the soggy forest floor, thick and dense and widespread. It seemed to threaten to spill into the Seelie Court, but the magical barrier that surrounded the place kept it at bay.

Standing at the edge of the boundary of known and unknown was a woman, her body leaning lazily against a nearby tree as she looked out over the mist. She was clad in dark leathers from head to toe, which might have seemed uncomfortable for journey were they not already long broken in. The only place where skin could be seen, aside from her head and the top of her neck, was at the joint of her shoulders where her top and its sleeves did not meet by a few inches. But even this was just a sliver as a small piece of metal shoulder armor bridged the gap, attached to the top via three strips of leather, the belt at it’s bottom strapped around her bicep to help hold it in place. The space was enough to allow her the necessary movement she needed to be able to wield her twin axes properly, especially when throwing them. For now the weapons sat in their usual positions—holstered on the outside of both of her thighs. Leather pants were tucked into knee-high leather boots. Everything was held in place by leather belts or laces, and all the materials had been died the same deep, rich brown that could easily be mistaken for black even at a short distance. If she had blended in with the forest before, the looming eclipse overhead only further aided her ability to hide in the shadows of the trees now.

At the woman’s feet sat a small pack full with provisions. The light morning breeze likely would have flirted with her hair had it not been weaved into a tight braid. Idly, her bare fingers toyed with its end where it rested on her right shoulder. On her left sat her mantle, which nearly blended in with the color of her leathers.

“Do you think they’ll come?” she briefly asked the firefly, sparing him glance. In response, the insect released the chemicals to initiate his bioluminescence just once as he briefly fluttered his wings. The blonde warrior merely hummed her understanding as she turned her gaze back to the expanse laid out before them. They both knew it didn’t matter if another soul showed or not—they would still be entering the Mist this day with or without Alysia and her friends.

With a small sigh, the woman pushed off the tree, bent to collect the bag at her feet, and began walking inward, towards the heart of the Seelie Court. Despite knowing that she would make the investigation alone if she had to, Callo had faith that Alysia would show, and that she would bring with her the friends she spoke of just the night before. Cal had awoken early, unable to sleep for very long due to her mounting excitement, and had meandered towards the Mists, curious and anxious and eager all at once. Briefly she wondered what they would find there, and whether or not it would have any impact on what was happening with these mysterious, volatile faerie, before she quieted her mind. Those answers would come soon enough, she knew, but for now she just wanted to enjoy the silent stroll towards Sabrina’s Tavern.

It didn’t take long before the tavern came into view. As she approached, a drunkard came stumbling out of the front door, and Cal observed him with a raised brow and disapproving eyes even as she smirked in amusement. Hopefully not one of ours, she thought as she took a seat on one of the nearby benches, once again setting her bag down by her feet. She wanted to give the others an ample amount of time to get there, but at the same time, she hated waiting around for too long. Once the other Seelie faerie began to awaken and go about their daily business, Callo knew she would have to depart. But for now she would be patient. Exploring the Mists alone was extremely dangerous, and she preferred to not have to do so, but her mind was already set. She had missed the attack on the Festival, and this was the only way that she felt that she could compensate her fallen and injured brothers and sisters.

She would find an answer to help end this madness before it could get out of hand.

OOC: I know we're starting out in the Seelie Court, but since the Mists are our ultimate destination, I figured it was okay to post everything here.

[Alysia]

Alysia rushed through the thick forest, worried that she may be late. She had taken a longer nap than she had intended to. She didn't have her morning wake up call, Mabu, and over slept.Her form was a blur through the thickened forests, her steps without a sound. She had rushed grabbing things and getting dressing. Alysia was silently surprised she had grabbed a decent shirt in hurry. Soon the forest shrubery changed. Noticing the area she was in, she slowed, knowing that she was near the tavern.

Quickly stepping out of the shadowed forest, her eyes looking around the area and spotted the tavern almost immediately. Looking for any familiar figures, she smiled as she spotted Callo. She knew she would show. Callo was a very determined woman, Alysia decided. Which was good cause to traverse the mists, determination was needed. Alysia had traversed the mists only once before and it was a...frustrating event.

As Alysia stepped into the slightly brighter light, dimmed due to the eclipse, her attire was more easily discernible. Wearing a long sleeved dark green button up shirt, a snug but well worn dark brown leather vest over her green shirt, her favorite well worn dark brown leather pants, comfortable brown boots, and a thin dark green cloak. The dark brown was a little lighter than Callo's, easily discerned as a brown, but would easily still blend into the environment. Alysia's hair, too, was in a braid but she wrapped and pulled it into a low bun on the back of her skull. Her two largest throwing knives (which were too large to be thrown any short distance so they mostly doubled as daggers) were located upon her back, the handles sticking up past her shoulders for easy reach. Two of her smaller throwing knives were located on the outside of her thighs and two others were hidden inside the cuff's of her sleeves. She also had a small black hip bag located on her back left side. It wasn't a very large bag, no more that a foot wide and long and it was light. Alysia barely felt it at all.

As she neared Callo, she gave a slight wave as a greeting. Looking around the outside of the tavern, she spotted no one else. "So no one else has shown yet, eh? They'll show, I just know it." Alysia offered the other woman a smile, the tri color of her eyes sparkling in the dim morning light. They were all reliable so she knew that if their mantel's found them, they'd show up. Alysia was ready to discover what the heck was going on.

[Morgon]

Dawn had fully broken by the time he came into range of Sabrina’s tavern, scents of cooking food mingling with the aroma of waking leaves and the musk of Morgon’s sweat. It had been at least a three mile dash through uneven, unfamiliar and unforgiving terrain after his deranged bird and her quarry. The lemur was a mere flash of reddish fluff in the distance, bounding easily between branches, but Amara was undeterred by the creature’s deft treatment of the forest chase. Keeping below the canopy, she darted amongst the trees at speed, ignoring completely the outraged pronouncements of her bonded. It was all Morgon could do to keep her in sight. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could perceive the gilded blur of Cyane, less able to perform the Osprey’s maneuvers due to her significantly broader wingspan, but nonetheless impressive in her dogged determination. The Nimbus wondered if she enjoyed it, and hoped she didn’t intend to eat Amara once she caught her.

Morgon wanted to eat her, first.

And then the lemur was out of the tree cover in a bound, rapidly covering the remaining ground between the forest edge and the tavern ahead. Behind him shot Amara like an arrow, and behind her came the powerful flaps of Cyane, and behind all three Morgon came half-running, half-staggering, and fully damning them all to hell. The birds were gaining, but Mabu had brought reinforcements: arranged before the tavern entrance were a pair of women, and to these the lemur sprinted, dancing up one's back as easily as if she'd been a sapling. The Osprey veered sharply, gaining altitude and turning furious circles around the building. At last, Morgon felt at leisure to slow his pace and stand, panting and damp, with his hands on his hips and his eyes flashing anger. “Amara, get your ass over here,” he bellowed. She obeyed – after another perfunctory lap – and landed gracefully on his outstretched arm, unrepentant and apparently unfatigued. He glared at her. He would have done more than glare if he weren’t overcome with relief. Instead he simply panted, shaking his head, and walked toward the tavern. “If you so much as twitch, I’ll contribute you to Sabrina’s stew,” he muttered.

The women were both Sidhe -- Morgon noticed this immediately, as anyone but the most demented would. They were armed, as well, and did not exude that enticing aura that Annette had, upon their first meeting...nor did they show any hint of weakness or fragility. His eyes passed over the one seated, noting with curiosity the scar across her cheek, then settled on the fairer of the two, to whom the lemur clung. Morgon set his jaw.

“My mantel had a bit of a disagreement with yours in the woods. I wanted to apologize for her. And…make sure that yours is unhurt,” he stated as calmly as possible, forcibly steadying his breathing. He could hear Tadgh approaching behind him, and wondered how much he was about to be chastised for his bonded's lack of training.

[Marat]

It is early for the former marauder, the self-proclaimed night owl yawns as he rolls his shoulders back, a light crackling releasing the tension in his neck. The nimbus looks tired, or as tired as the fae can look. No dark circles line his eyes and his visage is taut with youth, but there is something distinctly tired looking about Marat. Despite his countenance the man is dressed appropriately and though his body language would suggest otherwise he looks perfectly capable of traversing the Mists. His hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail, a silver clip keeping it in place. Sheathed on his left hip is a rapier, the ruby tipped hilt twinkled in the copper light. On his right hip is a brown leather whip, one split at the end and capped with small bronze balls. His beige pants are tucked into knee high riding boots and his white linen shirt is neatly fastened all the way up until the last two buttons which he keeps perpetually undone.

Marat’s reasoning for exploring the Mists is not out of the ordinary. Though the nimbus is ambitious, his will to explore the mysteries of Alanor is a matter of curiosity rather than a matter of trying to obtain power. Though the nimbus believes there is power to be discovered by those gutsy enough to seek it, today’s expedition is not meant to uncover such abilities. And although he would not rebuke them should be stumble upon them, he will not be disappointed if he returns any less power than he already is.

Three have assembled by the time he arrives as per usual Marat flashes the group a cheery grin despite the grogginess of sleep still clinging to him. The morning is wet and cold, eerily similar to the mornings he remembers in the mortal realm. These were the types of mornings when Marat yearned for the comfort of a bed after a night of robberies. The lesser god, the patron of fortune and charity, is reminiscent, not for past glories but for the bed that he has only just left behind.

”I trust this isn’t the whole group.” He says as he yawns and lifts his arms in the air to stretch. Blinking several times before addressing the group again, ”My name’s Marat, pleasure to meet you two.” He does not verbally address Alysia, but smiles at the sidhe woman, offering her a bow and an acknowledgment that they had met before.

[Tadhg]

Usually three miles is nothing. Tadhg is a hunter and as such, his body is highly toned for endurance over a multitude of terrains, tracking his quarry for days if need be. His muscles slide smoothly over his bones, tightening and releasing with repetitive ease and never once complaining about being pushed so far. But to sprint in the thin morning air at Morgon's breakneck speed is another story and the added gush of anxious adrenaline in his veins makes his pulse thready and his steps not quite as sure.

He forgets to breath properly and an ache builds in the left side of his ribcage, forcing him to straighten his running stance a bit, take in oxygen enough to support this mad dash in Morgon's frantic wake. He forgets that he is one of the oldest (if not the oldest) Fae in Alanor and should be beyond allowing fear to trickle slowly into his stomach as it is now. But the distant streak of red fluff in the low tree canopy is a constant reminder of who is involved in whatever sort of trouble this is and Tadhg can no sooner fight his trepidation then one can hold back the tide.

The trail ends and as he slows to a jog, there is a small flicker of relief the ebbs away some of the worry casting dark shadows over his stubbled face, but as he approaches the group, he only has eyes for the blonde woman now cuddling the red lemur.
"Are yoo alright?" he asks her immediately, the slight strain in his deep brogue discernible despite the softness of his voice. His storm-cloud eyes wash up and down her frame once, twice. She appears to be uninjured, but he is not fully consoled yet.

Eventually he takes notice of the other Seelie woman, immediately recognizing a formidable warrioress when he sees one. The wayward nimbus Marat has apparently decided to be involved in whatever is taking place. And Morgon is also there. He shoots the younger man a dark look, one tainted with enough warning to hopefully convince Morgon to just stop talking, but Tadhg knows better then to put all his eggs into THAT basket.

"Just wha' the hell is goin' on here?" he announces, crossing his arms over his chest and glancing around the circle of gathered Seelie with one cocked brow.

[Callo]

Callo had only managed to smile at Alysia in greeting before the calm morning scenery erupted into a chaotic flurry of fur and feathers. First it was a flash of red—Mabu, Alysia’s bonded—making towards them in haste with long, graceful bounds. It would have seemed an odd behavior for the lemur had she not been closely tailed by a large bird of prey. Then a second. And finally a man running after all the creatures at full speed.

With a furrowed brow, the blonde warrior got to her feet immediately, her fingertips brushing the top of the hatchet attached to her right thigh precariously. If this was one of the friends Alysia had spoke of, Callo couldn’t understand why he would be chasing after the woman’s mantel so heatedly. But then he spoke, angry and chastising, but at the bird that had been leading the chase. It didn’t take long for the pieces to fall into place—that this man was trying to keep the peace—and as a result, Cal relaxed a bit, moving her hand away from her weapon to fold her arms over her chest instead, still cautious.

Before long, there were three men in total standing before them, the last two to arrive actually seeming to know Alysia, and Callo could not help but grin amusedly as she leaned over to whisper into the other woman’s ear. “Alysia has handsome friends. Callo hopes they're more than pretty faces.” The words were spoken partly in jest, but when the smile disappeared from the blonde woman’s face, it was clear that she wasn’t completely playing around.

Turning to the males, Callo kept her expression blank as she silently studied them for a moment. Only the one with the beard looked to be a warrior. A woodsman, perhaps. Everything about him seemed to speak of the forest. The man with the sword had potential, she noted, but his short stature tainted her initial impression of him. As for the remaining one…perhaps if he weren’t currently gasping for breath, Callo would have a better impression of him, too. As it were, he just looked to be a big body. Of the three, only the one she believed to be a warrior was actually a fellow Sidhe. Thankfully for the men, Callo wasn’t one to make hasty judgments. She knew that appearances weren’t everything, and that a warrior who lived merely on assumptions didn’t live long. She would not expect that they were on the same level of the Royal Guards, but she would not underestimate their abilities, either.

Concluding her quick assessment, Cal gave a single quick nod of her head. “I'm Callo, friend of Alysia. We go look for answers to Shades in the Mists. Need help. You come?” She might have seemed curt, but Cal honestly felt like there was not much more to explain. At least, not right now. The first test was seeing if these newcomers were willing to journey into the Mists at all. If they were, then more details could be discussed. In the meantime, the woman’s coppery eyes flicked between their faces, meeting their gazes straightforwardly as if to test their merit while she awaited their reply.

[Alysia]

Oh they all came alright. One minute Alysia was conversing with Callo, the next she spied an all too familiar red blur out of the corner of her eye. Turning her head quickly, she spied Mabu dashing across the clearing like the devil was nipping at her tail. It was almost humorous, and would have been (and probably would be after this is all over and done with) had she not spied another damned bird (and an unknown fae) chasing after her mantel. Quickly reaching for her throwing knife, she waited until Mabu was safely upon her back, and was just about to make a shish ka bob out of the osprey when the unknown fae started chastising his apparent mantel. Glaring daggers at the bird, she sent the coldest glare she's ever given to any creature to the osprey, letting it know that she WOULD pluck it and eat it if it so much as even glanced at Mabu like a meal again. Cuddling Mabu, she looked at the tall nimbus. After a long glance she decided he meant them no harm, she even offered a warm smile. "As long as it doesn't happen again. All is well." That was all she managed to say to the boy before Marat and Tadhg showed up.

As Marat made his entrance, Alysia smiled and even offered him a friendly half wave. They had only met once at Sabrina's, but she never forgot those that she has met. It wasn't long after Morgon and Marat's entrance that she noticed Cyane close by. Her heart skipped a beat as she made the connection and it wasn't long before she saw a very rushed Tadhg enter the scene. She almost missed what he said and she stared at him, her heart beating fast. She quite effectively stomped out her rising blush and replied softly to his question."Yes, I am fine. Mabu is a little skitter for scatter, but she is fine." As she said this, her eyes looking directly at his. She gave him one of her gentle smiles, one that was only for him. She almost forgot where she was.

Callo's whispered words drew Alysia out of her thoughts, causing her to chuckle softly. She knew Callo wouldn't be disappointed. They may have pretty faces, however she knew each (well she wasn't sure about the boy with the potential shish ka bob) one of them was a warrior. She looked at Callo as she spoke, Alysia nodding in agreement with Callo."We hope you will join us, but we are not forcing you. Something is fixing to happen, something big...and we are determined to get to the bottom of this." Alysia hoped they would come, but she and Callo would continue on without them...however Alysia had a sneaking suspicion that they would join them.

[Morgon]

Morgon was not anticipating another witness to his embarrassment. After receiving Alysia’s words with a nod of gratitude, his gaze settled on the newly-arrived Marat for some quick (but careful) study. Did everyone carry weapons around this queer little land? Even the pretty Sidhe -- the one with the lemur -- was apparently armed to the teeth, but this Nimbus’ tools were a shade more obvious. Morgon supposed he needed a bigger sword. At the moment, though, he would just have to content himself with being bigger in general. He might have smiled at that, if it were any real consolation. Instead he nods again, acknowledging Marat’s introduction, and offered his own brief “Morgon.”

Tadgh had joined them as Morgon was finishing his passing scrutiny, just on the upswing of his head. He watched him warily, expecting some kind of immediate backlash, but it was quickly apparent that he had eyes only for Alysia. The nimbus’ head adopted a curious slant as he observed their interaction, the ghost of a smile appearing on his face. So this was the shadeslayer’s heart-charming huntress, eh? Morgon had not realized how accurately he had struck the mark in their conversation the night before. His eyes danced between them, cataloguing word and tone and expression, glinting with the mischievous light of one who has discovered someone else’s secret. It was a look that needed quick stifling, though -- Tadgh would not appreciate any smugness on his part. Just as suddenly as that faint smile had appeared, it vanished again, leaving doubt as to its having existed at all.

And besides, there were bigger mysteries to solve, it seemed.

“What he said,” Morgon agreed as the Woodsman demanded some kind of explanation. Answers were forthcoming, but it was Callo’s that Morgon focused on. The wench was short on words, to be sure. Short on beauty too, for her kind, but that did not change the fact that she was much more striking than any human could be. Morgon considered her, the realization dawning that the lemur had come to fetch them purposefully, followed by bewilderment that he might be included in this escapade. Or perhaps only included incidentally -- it was Tadgh they had sought, while he had been a sort of ancillary body, caught up in the current of mantel drama. Morgon crossed his own arms over his chest, for a moment looking like Tadgh’s mirror.

“Are you sure that’s wise?” he asked, directing his question at Callo, since Alysia was likely not to hear him over the beating of her own heart. “The shades had no trouble squashing a much larger group at the festival, and then we had the fire that deterred them. And I heard a rumor that the Drow who sent them are even less hospitable...” In truth, Morgon hadn’t the faintest idea what “Drow” even were, much less whether or not they were hospitable, but one would never know from his easy delivery of those words. Easy, and cavalier...he watched for Callo’s reaction, expecting her to chafe at the “warning,” and fully anticipating that the five of them would move off into the mists shortly. The women seemed determined, he could see that Tadgh was not about to let Alysia out of his sight, and for his own part, curiosity was often louder than caution. And Marat was carrying a sword. Obviously he was coming.

Once the party moved, Morgon would follow.