Mini Event Reap what you have sown
Delah Tàirneanach
the Greatwood Guardian
War Chief

Age: 100 | Height: 4' | Race: Fae | Nationality: Natural
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#1
these violent delights have violent ends
LongNight was fortuitously timed this year as it gave the fae a full week to meet and plot and plan without the grounders interfering. Just as they thought, no monsters came into the woods. Or at least, if they did, the Greatwood was more than able to defend itself against them.  As always, it was a human problem and one the fae were more than happy to keep out of.

This, though?

This had been made into their problem.

Hundreds of fae gathered 'round the wounded mother-tree. They poured their live essences into it, replenishing what they could. However the Voice's attack was complete; the tree was petrified now, hollowed out, and seemingly without life. It had been killed, gutted, and used for her wicked purposes. Oh, the fae knew of the portals. But they were not a race that traveled far from their woods. That the Voice would dare defile their home further after having already blighted it, only to have the ascended murder the fae in their own lands to claim ownership of it?

Wessex and her kin would answer for their crimes.



This mini event is to discuss (read: persuade) the fae into letting you through the Mathair portal. There are no rounds and I would like this thread to move at a fairly good pace. No posting order (though obviously responses from those like Wessex as queen will be prioritized).
Jiao Chen
Seamstress

Age: 46 | Height: 4'6" | Race: Fae | Nationality: Natural
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#2
When everything and everyone
Becomes my enemy
Jiao had never been the most pious or spiritual Fae, but even she felt the loss of the Mathair. It had simply always been there, a pillar of life in the Greatwoods that stabilised everyone and everything around it. Without the Mathair, it felt like everything in her life, in the lives of all the Fae, was vulnerable to attack.

Dressed in dark mourning colours she had gone out with her people to pray and sit around the tree. She was not skilled in healing but she felt it was important to see what happened - her ripped wings meant she could not fly so she sat a distance away on a rock, ready to observe.

The Ascended had done this, so she had heard. That name kept coming up again and again, and they were swiftly building up to villains in her mind. Why anyone would want to destroy the tree just to open a door baffled her; could they not have found a way through the storms or worked with nature instead of destroying it?

Waiting to see what the humans would say but not wanting to agree with any of it, she curled up with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders and waited.

---
Jiao shows up to watch.
There's nothing more you can do
I'm gonna blame it on you
JIAO
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Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith


Age: 39 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural
Level: 2 - Strg: 27 - Dext: 28 - Endr: 27 - Luck: 25
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#3

The only thing that makes Wessex appear before Delah is that the portal is in Fae land. A poorly thought out place to put it, she thinks with a minor curse towards her Lady, but perhaps the land was not always divided like this. From what she understands (which these days, feels like everything and nothing), that portal has lain dormant for longer than anyone can remember.

But this isn’t about the portal, is it? No, it’s about the Fae who died. The Fae who could have surrendered, but didn’t. The Fae that would have killed her if given the chance.

What an egotistical cunt.

Truth be told, the Wraith would have felt the same, but, y’know, semantics and perspective and all that.

The Queen waits for her General and whomever he decides to bring along, at the entrance to the Greatwood. She’s called Amun to accompany her, on the condition that he keep his mouth shut unless asked to speak. Rex and Sam have been left out of this, for various obvious reasons, and while it might be difficult to ignore a small group going into the woods on the cusp of nightfall, she hasn’t personally invited anyone else to accompany her. Can’t stop anyone from following, but something tells her others’ sense of righteousness will be strong and their judgey-pants will be cinched up tightly with this one.

Then into the Greatwood they go, Wessex’s memory of the way to the Mathair fairly fresh and if need be, she checks the map once or twice. When they do arrive at the portal, it is to a host of fae; her spine becomes a little more steel-straight, her eyes flit from tiny anonymous face to tiny anonymous face and she remains unfussed. This is a thing to be endured and gotten through, not beaten down with brute force.

Whether or not they’ll succeed is another matter entirely.

WESSEX
come, you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts
unsex me here
Amun Arlun
Potter

Age: 34 | Height: 5'7'' | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Outlander
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#4
full moon rising on the waters of my soul
Obviously Amun was going to accompany Wessex to meet the Fae and see the portal the Ascended had nearly died to open (even him, though he’d mostly run around as a distraction).  The Voice has asked him to explore the land beyond, after all. He’d even agreed to the queen’s conditions to keep his mouth shut unless addressed directly by either her or by the Fae.

However, she should know by now that he followed the letter and not the spirit of the law: while his mouth was indeed shut, he was far from silent. Instead, he hummed a sea shanty that had some quite wicked lyrics. It wasn’t loud, but every now and then he considered projecting some of the lyrics into Wessex’s head with that handy-dandy telepathy she had. She was wound so tightly he was afraid she’d pop, and not in a fun way.

Instead, he tried to send her a soothing pulse from his mind, but he wasn’t sure it worked that way. Easy, Princess. If you walk in there looking like you’re spoiling for a fight, you’ll get a fight. If you’re relaxed and friendly, they’ll be much more open to talking. There was a reason he’d told her she thought she needed an image coach. She hadn’t even brought a crown. Too late to do much but hope she could finesse her way through a tough conversation.

Sure power and authority were important when meeting a rival leader, but there were many ways to project that. She could take a few cues from him: he was completely at ease, with a large grin on his face, as if he was in total control of himself and the situation. People responded to that implicit message and assumed he was in charge. Moreover, they also were drawn to him and the languid and lascivious demeanor he was showing to the world.. Besides, they’d come here to ask a favor, and more flies were caught with honey and all that. The Fae before them had wings, so maybe it was the same with them.

It was his first time seeing the short and winged race, and he spent time studying them as he waited for the conversation to start.
amun


Coding base by Sky!
Observer

Age: 19 | Height: 5'11" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural
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#5
OIA'I'O
the longer i live
You sit absolutely silent, absolutely motionless. With your legs tucked up against your chest and your back against the upper portion of one of the trees, you appear for all your stillness like a rather large knot. You have no ideas in this form, not really. Instead you are an amalgamation of nature, held together by magic and the slowing of your heartbeat. No eyes but you see, no ears but you ear.

You wish to pull out your notebook and record what it is you are witnessing, to transcribe everything in detail, but you worry that your presence might disrupt the pattern of things. So instead you try and commit as much of it to memory as possible, vowing to record it all as soon as this strange encounter is over.



Oia lurks, *can't be seen.
the longer it feels

Coding base by Sky!


Delah Tàirneanach
the Greatwood Guardian
War Chief

Age: 100 | Height: 4' | Race: Fae | Nationality: Natural
Level: 5 - Strg: 11 - Dext: 30 - Endr: 25 - Luck: 28
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#6
these violent delights have violent ends
The warchief cares very little for those who gather around to gawk. She has eyes only for Wessex and Ronin (having not been informed of yet another change in title). However as her moss-green eyes fall upon the ascended, Delah doesn't even bother to try and hide how her lip curls in disdain.

Stepping forward, the ground rises beneath the guardian's feet so that she was eye to eye with the queen. A number of her guards follow, though they keep back a respectful distance.

"Five of my warriors were killed defending our landmark in our homeland." Delah snarled, her voice taking on a predatory growl. "How do you plead."
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith


Age: 39 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural
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#7

Yes, yes - Delah’s disdain for Wessex. How tiresomely predictable and boring. On the way over here, the Queen of the Hallowed Grounds wondered if she could map out the conversation ahead of time - or at least the components. Grab an as-yet-unheard-of BINGO sheet and mark down the elements as they come. Disdainful lip curl?

Check.

Predatory snarl? Check.

At least the Wraith had the good sense to partially listen to Amun, and as the War Chief raises herself to the Ascended’s eyeline, she muses silently to him. ‘And you think I’m wound up tight?’ But of course, this isn’t a laughing matter. And Wessex isn’t laughing. She isn’t smiling either. Not as the ‘charges’ ring out and there is indeed, a smidgen of regret for the Fae deaths. It should have been easier. If Lucas hadn’t off'ed himself. If Sam had balls and hadn’t done stupid, useless attacks. If Amun hadn’t run away. If, if, if.

Deep blue eyes match moss green ones and Wessex’s eyebrows raise every so slightly. As far as she's concerned this isn’t a trial. “I don’t. One was killed in self-defense, after attacking me with fire. The other deaths weren’t by our hands. In fact, I offered them an opportunity to de-escalate the situation and talk. Instead they attacked. I am sorry for their deaths, but they were needless casualties.”

WESSEX
come, you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts
unsex me here
Delah Tàirneanach
the Greatwood Guardian
War Chief

Age: 100 | Height: 4' | Race: Fae | Nationality: Natural
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#8
these violent delights have violent ends
"Wrong. The ascended were not permitted to enter our woods given the death that your presence caused. That was made quite clear. You cannot claim self-defense nor offer de-escalation when you were trespassing."

The warriors around Delah bristle.

"I do not want your apology. Once again you have come into our woods and once again blood followed." The Guardian pauses, looking at the meager grouping of those assembled. "Where is Ronin?"
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith


Age: 39 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural
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#9

"I can and it was. You don't have to accept it." The Queen shrugs. There is such a thing as free will. The same way the five of them didnt have to show up when The Voice called, neither did the Fae have to keep fighting. "But I've never lied to you, Delah."

As for Ronin, Wessex doesn't bother to look behind her. She doesn't expect him to be there. He seemed... worn out by LongNight. "He has no reason to be here. He stepped down." Which means the War Chief is stuck with the Ascended and vice versa.

"How long have the Fae been in the Greatwood?"

WESSEX
come, you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts
unsex me here
Delah Tàirneanach
the Greatwood Guardian
War Chief

Age: 100 | Height: 4' | Race: Fae | Nationality: Natural
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#10
these violent delights have violent ends
"Does your ignorance make you feel better? You cannot trespass into our lands, attack one of our monuments and claim any sort of innocence when we defend ourselves."

He stepped back. Delah's lips peel back into a smirk. He'd promised her that he'd give her reason to remember his name, and she'd doubted him. Turns out she was right.

"This is not a history lesson." She remarks dryly. "You are here to answer for what you have done. Do you care so little about your own people that you worry more about our background, than whether or not we will again close our borders to you?"
Delphia Thanatos
Seer

Age: 23 | Height: 5'10" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural
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#11
DELPHiA
She is late, but time rarely holds much relevance to her. And she was easily distracted, but that was a much less impressive reality. But she could feel the stirring of the spirits around the gathering at the Mathair, tempers flaring, rising, anticipation dripping - who will be the next to walk to the realm of Mort, covered in their own blood?

It warranted a peek-see at the very least.

Quietly, the daughter of death approached the gathering, standing neither on the side of the Fae nor those from the Grounds. Steel eyes glide over both, expressionless, detached almost. Death did not discriminate, and neither did she. "Greetings, Delah." she said softly to the war chief in the tongue of the Fae, eyes resting on who she assumed was the leader of the Grounders, but said nothing.

How would they play this?
hello, old friend
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
General of the Hollowed Grounds \ Guildmaster

Age: 26 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
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ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
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#12
DEIMOS
Delivered from the blasts
The Sword had seen the Queen’s note far later than intended, other circumstances and necessities ensuring he hadn’t gone to his home until dusk. Only then did he peer upon the paper, sigh, and turn back around, heading straight for the Greatwood and its borders, on foot instead of plumes and wings, ensuring his weapons were there and ready in case of some ridiculous onslaught. He had some information regarding the factions from Rexanna, and from his own experiences within Safrin’s library and portal books, otherwise, he was likely to be as much a bystander as the rest of the gathered flock.

He arrived on the tell-end of some vitriol and vehemence, an expectation in regards to the current ongoings, understandable nuances of venom and its ilk – Delah’s loss of warriors requiring explanations, and then what to come thereafter. Politics and diplomacies had never been amidst his repertoire, more akin to a designated warrior, stalwart guard, or some other twisted assemblage of a weapon. Along his presence though, he nodded his head to both Fae chieftess, respectful because she was potent and he’d seen her work, and Wessex; standing nearby, for whatever machination or means necessary.
the last of a line of lasts
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 29 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander
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ISUMA - Mythical - Gryphon (venomous)
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#13
He had meant to return to the Mathair once LongNight ended to see how it fared and to ask the Fae about their experience with the week of darkness. He had warned Jiao well in advance, but they just didn't know if the monsters would try to spread out or not, or if they would remain bound to the Hollowed Grounds - or, given what they now knew, bound to hunting the Ascended within the Hollowed Grounds and their upgrades. It seemed less likely that there would be anything for the nightmare beings in the Greatwood, but he would worry over it until he knew for certain what had transpired in the forest and Sidhe Village.

He was not allowed in the Village, but he knew that there were Fae at the Mathair, and that was where his paws had taken him in fox's shape, ghosting over the melting banks of snow like a winter spirit heading north towards colder climes now that spring was in the air.

He came across Deimos's trail by chance, but the familiar scent had him sharpening his curiosity and intent, wondering what the big man was doing out in the Greatwood at this hour. The fox scented off to the side of the trail, seeking Amalia's trace on the wind, but found nothing familiar and so he continued on, sneaking cautiously now, moving slowly and silently and blending into the melting snow until he came across the conclave - the trial? - already in progress. He crouched in a dying snowbank, ears flat and eyes narrowed to avoid the betraying gleam of his eyes as he took in the tableaux underway.



Jigano arrives in foxform and watches for now, waiting to see which way the wind will blow
Only simple tables without images or background colors when threading, please. It's much appreciated!
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith


Age: 39 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural
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#14

“As far as I know, before it was your monument, it was a portal to Halo.” Wessex looks to the tree, which seems calm and dormant now, but glowed so brightly with the Voice’s energy that it is seared thusly into her mind: alive and vibrant and so full of potential.

“Which is why I asked.”

She chuckles dryly, though it turns into something that turns hard and serious at the end. “You can insult me all you want, but do not be so ignorant as to question my loyalty to my people. I opened the portal for them. Did this for them. She gestures back to the Hallowed Grounds. “After three centuries of imprisonment, of barely eking out a living towards the end, I did this so they and everyone who was brought here against their will can have opportunity and a new life. Get out of the shithole we're stuck in. So they can finally choose for themselves what kind of life they want to live.”

There are a thousand boring and torturous things Wessex would rather do than talk to Delah, and yet she comes patiently (mostly) to ever summons - for her people. If the Ascended had her way, she’d risk a solo trip by night and try to figure shit out on her own. She’d have taken risky trips into the Greatwood. She would be living instead of administrating.

WESSEX
come, you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts
unsex me here


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