JustTheTwoOfUsJust the Six of Us"Can you jump and roll?" Alex asks, also watching for the safest place to try to land. "Aim to hit sideways and roll with it rather than feet first. I think that will be safer for us than anything else." She puts her fire-warm hand in Swan's and squeezes lightly. As they ready themselves to jump, words unnecessary as their small movements tell the other that which she has planned, Alex tries to dampen the flame within her by a small amount. She fears that if she were to jump with the heat from her body now, she'd lose any cushion the snow might give her and land on hard dirt or rock. But it she can have just enough heat to soften the snow... Still, these thoughts take a back seat to getting off the train. If she has the time to dampen, she will, otherwise she'll jump when Swan does. Because it won't matter what temperature her body is if she goes plummeting over the cliff. The shadows cooperate with Swan, or at least the shifting of shadow does, for her and Alex. Its quick and dirty, given the little amount of time before the train is due to fall off the bridge, and so the shadowshifting brings Swan and Alex the jumping off spot that then need for the leap. The soft grasses in the promised ditch, a wide one, await Swan and Alex's jump, and Alex even has a moment to douse herself before the pair leap off of the train and into it. The landing is easy, and the two of them are safe and sound. The train has gone off of the edge and into a canyon somewhat narrower than the one they remember seeing. The bridge is different, too. It's moister here, and a little colder, and the vegetation somewhat greener. This is most definitely no longer the shadow with Esperance, Hugo, Cazaril or Huttner. Swan checks herself over for broken bones or sprain whatevers while she catches her breath. Nothing appears to be out of place, much to her satisfaction. She lifts her arm into the arm, pumping her fist. “Woot, woot,” she spouts in a tired voice. She rolls over onto her side, smirking at Alex, “You might be hurt. I better give you a thorough once over. Take off your clothes! Nurse Swan is in.” Alex plants a quick kiss on Swan's lips. "I'd like nothing better," she admits. "But I'm fine. And I suspect Caz and company will be looking for us. I don't want to scandalize them too much." She scampers up from her seated position and holds a hand out to her lover to help her up. "Pity" comes a voice from the direction of the bridge. "It might have been interesting to watch." A large form emerges from underneath the bridge and stretches as it stands up, perhaps 11 feet in all. Lumpy looking gray skin, thin white hair, bulbous eyes, clothes little more than rags, and a tree trunk that has worn away to be a club. "It might have also been payment for the train." the troll says. "Especially since there is no gold, oats, or man flesh on board to satiate me." “The Bridge Troll,” Swan mutters. “Of course. Who else would it be?” She untangles herself from Alex and stares up at the Arborist from Hell. She pops a bent gasper in her mouth, letting it hang loosely as she talks. “’Kay, Lumpy. Here’s a new-reel for ya. We ain’t a burlesque show. And we sure ain’t a pair of billy goats. But we will go a trip-trip-trappin’ over yer freakin noggin if you get uppity, savvy?” She offers him a smoke, “So, instead, let’s get off on the right foot and avoid the inevitable ‘oh-god-not-in-the-face’ dust-up, shall we?” The troll shakes his head. "I prefer my poison to be liquid, not smoke. Although I suspect neither of you would want a drink of my cousin's fermented rotgrub mash." Swan smirks, “Can’t be worse than Lizzy Faire’s bathtub gin. I used that to clean the chrome on my boiler.” The troll laughs and then continues. "Given that five more of your ilk have arrived in my vicinity, it would be ill for things to go poorly. I don't suppose you might spare the dog as a snack." the troll suggests. Indeed, less than a quarter mile away, but clearly visible on the plain are Huttner, Espérance, Hugo, Cazaril...and someone else who appears to be leading them. Swan puffs on her gasper, “I think Ezzy would frown on the doggie snack. And she’s testy to begin with.” She folds her arms, “So, Knobby, now we're on the even, mind giving us the lowdown on where we are?” Through the conversation, Alex remains silent, her estimation of Swan once again going up. Making friends with a Bridge Troll? The lady is definitely full of surprises. She turns her attention briefly to the group making their way toward her, trying to figure who the newest member of their party could be. She doesn't think she recognizes him from their time on the train, but between the distance and the insanity of the end of the train trip it could have been anyone. Those that Orcini leads can see his hunched up shoulders relax and he focuses less on the compass and more on the surrounding area. "They are in this shadow." He announces and consults the pulsing compass again. "That way and not far." Orcini leads them towards the bridge, apparently intact in this shadow. The hulking form of the troll resolves itself first and by moving to see who it converses with the ladies come into view. "It would seem they parley. No more exercise for us. Pity." "I can do without it, right at the moment," Espérance comments. She waves to Swan and Alex. "It would be wise to postpone our conversation until the others arrive. I do hate" the troll growls "repeating myself." He lumbers to where he emerged, and soon returns with a metal hip flask. At least, its a metal hip flask scaled for him, and thus is more the size of a Methuselah wine bottle. When he opens the flask, the smell of what is presumably the rotgrub mash is pungent, like the smell of cooked kale. "You might call me Burs the Thirst , although you cannot ensorcel me with it." says. In short order, though, Espérance, Orcini, Huttner and Cazaril do make it to where Swan and Alex are dickering with the Troll. "Now that your friends are here." Burs says "we can discuss matters in earnest." "You are in Ochre, one of the Polder lands that borders the river Pyramus. Beyond me." the Troll gestures beyond the bridge. "Lie the lands that turn into Madness. My bridge is the only safe one in these parts save for the Train Bridge, but you just came from there, I reckon." Burs looks over the group. "All of you, I think." “Yeah, we just did the hobo-shuffle, actually,” Swan nods, puffing away. “I’ve never been in these parts, so I’ll leave the haggling to the others.” She jerks a nod at the new guy, sizing him up with cursory glance. With a shrug, she settles back into a quiet aura of indignity. Orcini returns Swan's nod and the sizing up is mutual. This is not the time for introductions though so Orcini looks to Burs. "You should have improved business for a time, night gaunt." Orcini observes. "Enjoy it while it lasts. Now what price would you name for our passage? Your bridge is merely a convenience for those of us not bound by the earth but a reasonably priced convenience is still worth buying." Alex looks briefly at Orcini, then turns a quizzical eye to Caz, the question of 'Trust?' obvious in the cock of her eyebrow. Cazaril tries to catch the eyes of both Alex and Espérance and gives a nod of the head. Assuming that Caz assures her that Caz isn't someone she needs to worry about at the moment, she settles back to listen to the bargaining that is about to commence. She, too, doesn't know anything about the area that they've found themselves in - in fact, she'd always thought Trolls the purview of fairy tales. But she keeps her backpack close, just in case they need a little more forceful a bargaining chip. She doesn't have many of her bombs left, but her bat is fine for close work. "There are many things I might take for payment. I have already mentioned that the small canine-shaped demon would be a sufficient meal to buy passage." Hugo growls and moves a little closer to Espérance. Espérance lays a protective hand on Hugo's ruff and gives the troll a flinty look. "However, I think that would be a price too dear, or I would have to wrestle the swordswoman for the privilege." the Troll says, keeping his gaze on Espérance and Hugo a moment longer. He gives off a sigh, which comes across as a rumble that flows as a wave across the landscape. "If not a meal, then a story, or a gift of a blade or a glass are traditional." the troll continues. "Something to pass the time with while I wait for the next crosser. You've been the first to come since a large party from the lands of Madness headed south." He waves in the direction opposite the bridge with a large meaty hand. Swan steps back to let the Chaosians deal with the creature. "I'll canary if you need me to," she adds, offhanded. Orcini turns a quizzical look at Swan as he tries to parse that sentence without success. He then turns back to his companions. "I have traveled light for the sake of speed. I presume all of your luggage was lost with the train. Have you the means to conjure a toll? Else I have a tale or two that should buy us passage." Swan sighs, “Yeah, my steamer bought it in the rattler’s nose dive, I’m sure. But I can wrangle some new glad-rags if need be, so no worries there.” She quirks a brow at the troll, “How about I torch a bit and this hombre weave a penny dreadful? That kosher with you, doll?” Espérance hasn't even had time to consider her lost luggage. Then again, apart from her flute, it was mostly clothing, which should be fairly easy to replace. "And of these others?" the Troll says, gesturing to Huttner, Alex, Hugo, Espérance and Cazaril. "Surely what the Knight and the Gunlugger can do will be enough for passage for all?" Cazaril says. His eyes catch each of them in turn' for confirmation. "Very well" The Troll says gravely. "Let the Knight speak his tale, set to the sound of the scion of Order's song. A fair enough price for passage for all." Orcini walks over to Swan with a slight grin. "It would seem we have been made a duet. My story is one of war and grand battle in a portion of the Black Zone that may or may not exist. Is this a subject matter that you can weave your voice around?" "I think I know this story." Huttner says softly to Espérance. "A sanguinary tale, full of fury and passion." "Ah, a border ballad," Espérance replies knowingly. Swan gives [Orcini] a feline smirk, “Doll, I can get my voice around anything you want.” She bats his chest with the back of her hand, laughing. “Just tell me what key and I’ll canary all night.” She opens her mouth and does a few complex runs - her voice like shadow and moonlight. In time she falls silent and give her new companion a nod to begin. "I was unaware of your vocal talent." Cazaril says, with an impressed tone in his voice. He chuckles. "Some in Lessima might want to harvest your vocal cords, Swan." Alex lowers herself to the ground, the better to listen to the upcoming performance. She crosses her legs beneath her and rests her elbows on her knees, hands balled beneath her chin. Her eyes shine as Swan does her warm-up. She hasn't heard Swan sing before, but just with that warm up, a shiver of pleasure shudders Alex's body slightly. "Begin!" The Troll booms. Orcini steps up and begins his tale. "There is a strange dichotomy among the people's of Chaos that while there is a strong adherence to tradition at its center, there are also a great many fads and affections that flow through them. We are a malleable people and changing with such whims is an easy enough thing to do. But it can be taken to far." "Such was the case in the Black Zone when several domains began to style themselves after something called the Unseelie Court." Orcini explains. "At first it was thought as nothing more than a strange fashion statement. There was much wearing of horns and hiding beauty beneath ugly beneath beauty. Nothing that had not been seen before. Yet, the more these demons and minor house members wore these shapes, the more it warped them within. They began to espouse they were beholden to no one and would act as they will and no being, not their Houses, their Emperor and certainly not the Serpent would ever reign them in." The troll leans in, watching and listening as Orcini's story is accompanied by the singing of Swan. In the meantme, Espérance can see Huttner nodding and agreeing. Cazaril's reactions are more schooled but are those of someone listening carefully. "That is where I enter the story." Orcini replies. "Such talk as you might imagine was not taken very well and I was sent to verify what had been heard. Well it was all worse than the reports had said. Chaos is one thing and madness another. After some time I learned the few bits of this Fae code they lived by and I laid by trap for them. I stood upon a spire of dark crystal and cried forth that I was a Knight of the Serpent and wished to prove myself greater than they. I would fight their greatest champion to prove it. A few well placed jibes soon had them bickering amongst themselves who that greatest champion was and harsh words soon turned to bloodshed as they fought for the right to take me down." "As that matter was being settled, I circulated amongst the crowd and sidebets among the populace. I would only accepts bets in time of course and gained minutes and hours on the preliminary matches while laying years and decades on the line for the main event." Orcini smiles grimly. "So at last the scrum was over and the winner came forth to face me. He stood eight feet tall upon two supple legs. His torso was rounded and from it equally spaced thrust seven arms. Four were long and supple like a fencers and three were shorter and heavily muscled like a wrestlers. Each held a blade designed for its special purpose: whip thin ones to stab, curved sabers for slashing, a greatssword for cleaving and cunning notched blades to catch the blades of one's opponent." "Ideally, I would have chosen a flying form and a crossbow but this crowd would not be cowed by a cheap victory." Orcini goes on. "I chose a humanoid form with thick skin and heavy bone plating over the skin. I trusted to two arms and to one blade." Orcini reaches back and draws the sword on his back slowly and holds it in his palms so that the troll might see it. The blade is long and tapered to a sharp point. The plain iron hilt is wrapped in black leather and is wide enough for two hands to fit if desired yet balanced enough to wield with one. The blade and crosspiece are acid etched with twisting runes. "The blade is named, Angrvadill, Rushing Harm." Orcini announced. "That is what I became. With a great cry, I ran full tilt at the hulking brute. My first two handed rush snapped a foil not moved in time but three sabers flashed at my heart while the now free hand joined its fellow on the greatsword. Everywhere I thrust a blade met mine and turned it aside. Everywhere he thrust my armor held firm and my body healed. It was only a matter of who tired first. Who would make that first mistake?" Orcini chuckles. "Would you believe it was me? During the exchanges we both gained many nicks and cuts and my foot came right down on a patch of slick ichor. The brute saw his chance and thrust forward with his six remaining blades. My organs were not where they should be but that did not stop him from piercing many of them. There was only one thing he had overlooked. All of his blades were buried in my body but mine was still raised above my head. His body and head fell to the ground in two places and I soon feel beside him. I called in my first debts for a doctor and bodyguard but the point had been made. I was hailed as the Slayer of Sren of the Seven Swords. Which is why I hate sibilant alliteration to this day." Orcini chuckles once more. wrote: Throughout Orcini's tale, Swan accompanies his words with a soft background of scat singing. She keeps it low and cool, her wordless vocables and melodic riffs never intruding or overshadowing. Somehow, this improvisational display creates sounds like clashing steel and hissing blades; the echoes of combat with a jazzy flair. Int he end, her chuckle accentuates Orcini's, as if drifting up from the past into the present, until finally... silence. While Orcini is reciting his tale, Espérance listens with a thoughtful expression, as if she's taking mental notes. Alex's eyes shine as she listens to the story woven with song. Rather than remember details about the story, she takes everything in as a whole. She is transported by Orcini's words and Swan's song, seeing the story unfold as though she was there. As the silence arrives, one soft, whispered word escapes her lips. "Wicked." The troll waits for a few moments after the completion of the tale, regarding Orcini and Swan. The world itself seems quiet, poised on the edge of something. Finally, with the sound of two clashing stones, the troll claps his hands together. "You have told a tale, and a tale that, if it is not truth, then it has the ring and feel of the truth." the Troll replies. "Accompanied by a voice to give it passionate beauty, you have satisfied the requirement for the toll that I have set." "You may all cross the Bridge." the Troll says, magnanimously. "And I thank you for a payment I shall remember for centuries." Orcini sheathes his sword and nods to the troll. Swan discovers a pack of rumbled gaspers in her back pocket; lights one up. “Nil perspiration, Knobby. That was the bee’s knees, for sure, and I had fun doing it.” She smiles at Oricini, “You’re one hell of a grifter or got some narbles in that pouch of yours, Smalls. Either way, you’re good by me.” "I am what I am, lady." Orcini replies. "To say more risks building permanent attributes on an inherently unstable foundation." Orcini smiles. "Your voice is like lucuma nectar drizzled over mastic and set alight. I thank you for sharing it." She extends her hand to Alex, “Your carriage awaits, doll.” Alex takes Swan's hand and pulls herself to her feet. Lacing her hand loosely into her lovers, she leans in to plant a soft kiss on her lover's lips. "I knew you had a voice, but I didn't know you had a VOICE. One of these nights, maybe you can sing me to sleep." There is teasing in her voice, but underneath is a hint of seriousness. Swan singing is something she wants to hear a lot more of. Swan kisses Alex in return, grinning as she holds the woman to her. Then, she shrugs and gives a wistful chuckle, “You should have heard my mom. She was a right torcher. Anything I’ve got, it came from her.” She smiles softly, “Anytime you want a song, I’m all yours, doll.” "Time to go." Orcini concurs but having no desire to hold another's hand, he instead steps to one side to allow the rest of the group to cross first and then takes up a rear guard position. Still with one hand on Hugo's shaggy neck, Espérance prepares to cross the bridge. The walk across the bridge for the group, for the first half of the walk, goes by without any incident or anything out of the ordinary. All seems quiet until each of the group, Orcini, Espérance, Alex, Swan, Hugo, Cazaril and Huttner, pass the halfway point of the wide, long span. There is a little resistance for everyone in turn, but it is a momentary resistance. For Orcini, it feels like a headwind that slows his step. For Swan, it is a brief ping of Chaos energy that brings a momentary bit of nausea For Alex, it is a sudden and brief chill that threatens to freeze her in place When the chill comes upon her, Alex closes her eyes, allowing one shudder before forcing herself to take another step. For Espérance, it is a sharp pain that runs up her left leg from heel to the knee. Each of the quartet will notice that Cazaril, Huttner and Hugo are each similarly and briefly debilitated. No one, however, is prevented from crossing to the second half of the bridge. Cazaril holds up a hand and moves to sit down on the span. He rubs the back of his neck and regards the group. "From here its a long walk, but one that will not take an indefinite amount of time. Crossing the bridge, thanks to Swan and Sir Orcini, has reduced the shifting necessary to a computable problem." Cazaril says with a wan smile. He looks backward at the troll and bridge. "The Bridge seems to be a sharp boundary transition and crossing it can have side effects you may have noticed. It is one reason why I prefer to use the train or the canal to get through this region of shadow. They are less prone to this sort of thing." "Welcome to the Black Zone" he adds, looking at Alex, Espérance and Swan. Espérance looks around. "So what's black about it?" "Its not a statement of chromatism, Espérance." Cazaril says. "Its refers to the fact that the shadows of the Black Zone lie as kingdoms and polities outside of the official bounds of the Empire, and thus are not illuminated by the Thelbane and the rule of the Emperor. Thus, they are "black". "Although some of them do have varying levels of association with the Houses and the Empire." Huttner puts in. "Shadows in the Black Zone generally know of the Courts existence, one way or another. That was not always true on the far side of the bridge." Swan lights up another gasper to help fight the nausea. She brushes h a stray lock from her face, scanning her surroundings. “Gee. And I wonder why this ain’t been on my ‘to-do’ list all these decades.” "That was nothing." Orcini comments. "A mere paradigm shift compared to the places where the physical laws truly bend and twist. Still, it is done and that is the end of it. How do you propose to proceed from here, Lords and Ladies? Established routes or a blazed trail?" Orcini inquires. "I'm all for blazing trails," Alex replies with a grin. "More fun that way." She automatically reaches toward her shoulder to slip her backpack from her, intending to check her supplies when she realizes that the familiar weight is no longer on her back. "Crap!" She explodes. "My bag was on the train. I never had a chance to pick it up." "Kolfa was on the train too," Espérance recalls, her voice tight. "Unless she managed to escape on her own." "Serpent, she was." Huttner scowls. "She's bound by honor to you, Espérance." Huttner says. "If she survived, she will seek to rejoin you." Just as I would." With a scowl, [Alex] kicks a stray rock, watching it tumble away from her. "Now I've got to start replacing it." After taking a deep breath, she turns to Caz and Swan. "Would either of you be able to get the stuff I need to make up some more fun?" Swan sadly shakes her head, “Sorry, doll. Usually I could do a gooseberry lay, but no telling where that’d take us. We've been in dutch enough for a life-time. And, frankly, not only are we in the back o’ Brooklyn, but soup is probably as easy to find out here as jujus in a nunnery.” "If you will remember." Cazaril says to Alex "A reworking of your formula is necessary since we are approaching Chaos, based on events on the train. Getting the raw ingredients you used earlier would not be difficult, getting ingredients that work would require some more alchemical experimentation on your part, Alex." "We haven't decided, though, which way we are going to go anyhow." Huttner says. "My brother does propose the two major options--find a path or make our own way." "You're right, Huttner. Let us all sit down for a moment and discuss matters." Cazaril says. "We do have two high ranking unclaimed members of the House Royal to protect." he glances at Alex and Espérance. Cazaril walks a short way and sits down on a boulder. There are a number of stones and rocks here, enough to provide seating for any who wish it. "The way I see it." he says "I've been dogged since I left Chaos with my team. Swan and Espérance here can tell you." he looks at Espérance "just how persistent, omnipresent, and numerous the Jesbys were in Espérance's home veil." Espérance shakes her head. "If ever I saw a collection of bad pennies..." "Hell, bad pennies? We've had enough bent nickels for weekend on the jukebox," Swan snorts. "If we trailblaze, its a lot more ground for them to cover if they try and find us again. Or Lessimans, or anyone else looking to hit us." "I am willing to entertain reasons not to go off the established routes," he adds, his gaze sweeping across the group. "Since it's all unexplored territory as far as I'm concerned, it makes no difference to me," says Espérance with a shrug, sitting down on a boulder. “I’m with Ezzy,” Swan adds. “Although, for once, I’d like to go twenty-four without dying. And for me to say that, you gotta know I’m going jailhouse-goofy.” "Finding a quiet unblazed path is going to be difficult." Cazaril says. "I suspect that our friend the Knight is going to have input on the general scope of the route we should take." Cazaril looks up at Orcini. "The major routes are out, we've agreed. We avoid the major highways and canals." That leaves, the way I see it, three routes, Orcini. You might know of a fourth or fifth, given your experience." "We could try going through the fire elemental aspected shadows, Charrae, the city of Brass, the Plain of Burnt Dreams, Pyrophora, et cetera, Enough sorcery should protect the non shifters amongst us." "Alternatively, we could try to find an entrance to and use the Deep Trod and make for the Fire Gate exit. Few use that highway these days, and it would eliminate the shifting problem. However, there are some dangerous kingdoms down there and we might run into detachments from the races that live in the darkness. I suppose, theoretically, as option three, we could skirt by the citadel of the Lessimans but that would not be a quiet route by any means." Orcini hums thoughtfully. "I would add as a fourth option the Aspirant's Stair. It is an old road seldom used nowadays. Hopefuls wishing to join the Church were to take the road to Thelbane and thereby have their mettle tested and learn valuable lessons, et cetera. The usefulness of the journey is doubt amongst the Cardinals so the Stair is seldom climbed." Orcini explains. "Having said that, considering the aspect that Alex currently wears, the fire road might seem an apt choice." "Other things being equal, I'd favor climbing over crawling," puts in Espérance. "And she is very good at it." Huttner puts in. "All right, I think we have two choices, the Stair or the Fire Margins." Cazaril says, rising and making ready to walk. He looks at Orcini. "If I remember, correctly, forgive me for my lack of a theological education, the Stair begins in the Allardyce Mountains. That's not far from Lake Malfeas and the burning river to follow into the shadows of Fire, which means that we can head overland at least until there, and make a final decision on which way to go based on conditions on the ground." "If you think you can lead us all over the Stair, Orcini, then that is what we will choose, ceteris parabis." Orcini nods in confirmation. "I can certainly show you the way and I cannot believe that anything callow penitents could overcome would be sufficient to stop us. The Stair begins at the foot of Mount Fatoom and from there we walk the Coils in the Clouds. I will confess that I have always wanted to see that view again. I have not seen it in many a turning." Swan puffs on her gasper and raises a brow, “Okay, there were about four words I gleamed in that statement, so I’ll leave the itinerary to you guys.” "In short" Cazaril says, turning to Swan, Espérance and Alex. "We are going to take a path through the Black Zone that gets little use, is difficult, and has been used as a rite of passage for those who are looking to join the Church. Orcini has taken this road, and I have heard of it." "As I have, vaguely" Huttner puts in. "So, assuming we take the Stair, we're going to do some hard climbing on a narrow mountain way, buffeted mainly by the elements, although the Law of Story suggests that we will have several encounters along the way that test our mettle," Cazaril says. "I'd say a couple of days before we reach Mount Fatoom, which will give us the opportunity to prepare ourselves for the climb up the stair." he continues. He looks at the assembled group, from Espérance and Hugo, to Alex, Orcini, Swan and Huttner. "Shall we get going?" "I'm ready," Espérance says. Backlinks |
