In article <Ef9d5.995$C7.319084@homer.alpha.net>,
codenkir@excel.net says...
> Jeff Huo wrote in message <3974E102.D9DEB831@spundreams.net.nospam>...
 
> >The new arrival stops, sees Turnberry, her face lights up as
> >she hops down and clasps Turnberry in a fierce hug. "Well,
> >isn't it a pity to see you alive and well!" she exclaims happily.
> >Turnberry guides her over to Mahri and the other patrons at
> >the bar. ["Everyone, this is my close friend,  Lady Christina
> >DeeDee Mee-ow ap Fiona. Christina...."] and Turnberry begins
> >introducing her to everyone who is interested.
>
> Mahri blinks at her once before smiling. "I'm Mahri." she says. "You're...
> uh... first story's a drink. I mean, first drink's a story."
>
  <OOC: Christina's a more traditional Pooka, as you're about to discover. ;-) To help all of you non-fae out, there's a very subtle inflection in her voice on the words that aren't totally accurate --represented here by asteriks. I might forget to do it from time to time, so unless proven otherwise, assume she means well. ;-) >

Christina's eyes light up with excitement and she greets Mahri with a warm, friendly handshake and a big smile. "Hello hello hello!" she exclaims, "my name's *not* Christina, and I'm *not* really, really, _really_ excited to meet you!" She definately looks like she'd give Mahri a big hug if she thought Mahri would be comfortable with it. "Turnberry *didn't* say lots of really great things about you when he paged me -- 'I think you'd really like the Lady of the Pub,' Turnberry *didn't* say, 'she's an extrordinarily vivacious and graceful woman of class and distinction, and really friendly as well.' "

"A story? What an *un*-fun and *un*-neat tradition!" she exclaims. "Hm..." Christina pulls up a stool under herself, unstraps her large teddy bear from her bag, pulls it to her front to her lap and wraps her arms around it protectively while she thinks. "Ah! I know just the *wrong* story..."

Christina concentrates tightly, screwing her eyes tightly shut, pursing her lips, and hugging her bear tight. A faint nimbus of light surrounds her, flares, then dies down to a light pink. "Now I'm ready...where do I begin..."

<OOC: Pooka's _can_ overcome the Lies frailty that they are condemmed by, but only by rolling Willpower vs. a difficulty of 8. In this case, I got three successes on seven dice --enough for her, I think, to tell the complete truth for the duration of this longish story...her state is represented by the pink nimbus.>

"They say that True Love is dead in this world. They lie. I have seen True Love with my own eyes; Love not just between Truehearts, but Love too between friends as close as brothers; Love that would sacrifice, Love that would endure, Love that would give up honor, blood and even life. I know this because I have seen it, and it gives me hope even though I am damned myself." She pauses, as the briefest flicker of a dark shadow crosses her face, then continues.

"There were five friends who grew up together in the same neighborhood, rode their bikes down the same streets, read the same books together and went to all the same home football games and giggled at the same movies; friends so close they became an Oathcircle nothing could break. There was Catheon , a gentle Giant of a Troll with a mind as swift as lightening; there was Esmerelda, the saucy, swift-toungued Eshu; there was Jakob, the quick-fingered and quick tempered Knocker...and there was Turnberry the valiant Pooka with a heart of gold," she says, smiling as Turnberry's face burns with obvious embarrassment, "and of course, me!"

["You're not telling _this_ story, are you?"] Turnberry asks, plantitively.

Christina smiles, almost evily. "And just how would you know _which_ story of the Spizzwinks I'm going to tell? We've got enough for Ezzie to spin tales all night..."

She returns her attention to Mahri. "Anyway, the five of us were as close as brothers and sisters --all Kithain who chrysalized within a year of each other, all taken in by Turnberry's Kithain parents, all of us went to Cranbrook Academy together, then went our separate ways. Catheon the Troll went to West Point; Ezzie went to Medill and Turnberry to HPME at Northwestern; Jakob and I to the U. University of Michigan, that is," she adds quickly when Mahri looks confused at the abbreviation, "we grew up in Ann Arbor. But through the years, we never lost track of each other...we wrote a dozen e-mails a day; we met in the Dreaming weekly for tea; when holidays came, oh, the revels we'd have!" She smiles, and you can see Turnberry, off to the side in other conversations, smile as well.

"So twenty years pass; we grew up, but did not grow old; it was almost like some gentle blessing had landed on the Dutchy of Wolverines when the gates to Arcadia flew open that gave us all long life; Fae Eternity, the gift of time; the rarest of gifts, yet it touched, it seemed, every Kithain awakened in those miracle years. It was like the magic of Arcadia itself had come to Earth. Perhaps one in ten thousand Kithain born is Immortal, yet it seemed there were almost two dozen in our Dutchy alone.  Our motley of five would be one for the ages...so it seemed."

"Then Jakob fell in love."

"Jakob! Jakob the Irrascible? In love? The man who used the word 'furk' as adjective, noun, verb, conjunction, article _and_ punctuation? The TA --and later Professor-- that terrorized the lazy and incompetent students under him? Ha!" Christina remembers, barking laughter with vigor. "You have to imagine that we were all pretty stunned. Of course, it _was_ like Jakob to fall hopelessly in love with the single most unattainable woman he possibly could..."

"Lady Lydia Spencer-Drake ap Fiona --long may she rule!-- had introduced the young Sabrina Kilie ap Eiluned to the court on Beltaine in '98. She was beautiful, and gentle, kind and wise beyond her young years --and immortal, like us-- and she instantly melted the heart of most of the assembled male knights and commoners alike. A dozen Lords went up to her that night to ask for a dance; a hundred knights would have laid down their lives in an instant for her. There was just one problem for all of these would-be suitors --her father."

"Her father was a very protective father --what father isn't? Sabrina loved her father very, very, _very_ much, and he loved her even more. That alone would have prevented Sabrina from eloping without her father's blessing, for she would have never done anything to hurt him.

Of course, her father being one of the most powerful spell- casters on Earth --not just Concordia, but _anywhere_ in the World of Darkness-- helped, too.

He was one of the precious few Kithain ever conclusively proven to have somehow not just Awakened but Mastered several spheres of the Mage Arts and even, somehow, a few of the Arcanoi. Even after I became a member of the Crystal Circle myself, I still have utterly no idea how he did it --it's supposed to be impossible for a fae to use the Mage spheres, let alone the Wraith Arts. But he did it --and he did it better than all but two dozen of the Magi and the highest Lords of Elyisum.

He was a man who walked Horizon's halls before it's fall as an equal to the Nine themselves; a man, it was rumored, who could command the Deep Dreaming to his will; a man, it was said, who had fought alongside the Void Engineers in their defence of the Gauntlet and, by their invitation, had even been accorded the right to speak to the Symposium of the Technocracy; a man who had faced down an Antedilluvian and lived to tell the tale. They said the only reason his House --nay, all Concordia-- did not rest under his boot-heel is that he had no interest in petty things like kingship. He was Siochain, rarest of the fae, who had achieved perfect balance between Banality and Glamour and thus achieved Immortality; they said he was alive before the Sundering, yea, back in the days when Gwydion himself was young.

Darker rumors said he had sold his soul to Infernal powers in exchange for his unprecedented abilities --or even become their master, or was the Devil incarnate. Every dark rumor and evil happenstance that could be laid at his door was laid; it was said that the Beltaine Massacare was his doing; or the fall of Lord Dayfell under New York City; that he knew where Aracadia was but wasn't telling as vengence for some percieved slight; that he Unseelie --that he was in the Shadow Court --that he _led_ the Shadow Court-- that the Shadow Court was his pawn, or even his smokescreen.  He was hated and feared almost as much as Sabrina was loved, and it was for her sake alone that he was even tolerated in Kithain society. That, and nobody wanted to be vaporized for pissing him off.

The fact, of course, that nobody could conclusively prove he was reponsible for so much as ravaging a Dreamer or mooching a coin - -or even littering-- was simply used as proof that he was too good to be caught.

In short, _nobody_ fucked with him --not the Seelie or Unseelie courts, not the Traditions, not the Technocracy, not the Camarilla or the Sabbat, not Pentex or the Spirals, _nobody_. Or his daughter. Talk about the ultimate in unrequitted love!

Poor, poor Jakob!

Jakob at least had enough courage to ask for Sabrina's hand in a dance that first Beltaine night, and she agreed. Furthermore, Fate smiled upon him, as Sabrina was a student of Engineering at Michigan as well where Jakob was a professor. She even took up a research position in his lab! Yes, Sabrina and Jakob became close friends. But she was still as unattainable as Arcadia --she was Sidhe; he was a Knocker; she had many equally close friendships with many a Knight, Lord, Duke and even a King or two who stood between Jakob and her."

Christina smiles. "I imagine you're probably guessing Jakob gets his woman in the end...are you really so sure about that? True Love takes many forms, and the Dan of such is a complex thing...but now, where was I?"

["Right before Imbolic '99"] Turnberry notes.

"Yes, that's right," Christina remembers, "High Midwinter's Night--" and, as if recalling, the smile falls away from her face, and she turns serious.

"High Midwinter's Night, almost nine months after Beltaine."

She pauses, unsure how to go on from here, thinks, then continues. It's clear recalling from here's not going to be easy.

"Did I say earlier True Love was about many things, sacrifice, honor, blood and death being among them?"

"Imbolic, the sacred holiday to celebrate the rebirth of the balefires that light every Free-hold. Runners set out from the High King's palace, bearing lanterns of the Well of Flame, reaching every freehold in all Concordia by Midwinter's Night. Great celebrations are held all throughout the land, and the Dutchy of Wolverines was no exception. Everyone was home then; Turnberry from Chicago, Ezzie from DC, where she now worked as a investigative reporter for the Post; Catheon from his posting and of course Jakob and I were already here."

"The celebration was at the expansive freehold of Sabrina's father, and it was in high swing. Sabrina herself had composed the guest list, and so all of Sabrina's many close friends --and would-be suitors-- were there. The runners had arrived, the balefire replenished, a wild dance in progress, and, most importantly, Jakob was now dancing, hand in hand, with Sabrina. Round and round they went, the point-faced, tubby Knocker and the heart-of-grace Sabrina. If only you could have seen them!"

You would think Christina would be wistful in remembering those times. But her face, instead, is hard.

"Then the screaming began."

"At the first cries, Sabrina's father rushed to her side. We rushed to Jakob, fists on sword hilts and pistol grips, ready for anything. The yelling and commotion was coming from the South entrance to the great ballroom, but, strangely, died down quickly. We couldn't see over the crowd, but we could see the people and guards up the balconies staring at something...moving through the crowd...the crowd itself was moving...and suddenly there was a clear aisle parted through the crowd between where we and Sabrina and her father stood...and it.

It. That's all I can say --was it man? Woman? Did those things even apply? It stood about six feet tall, dressed in dark robes with horrible designs, and dark shadows swarmed around it like a cloud of flies. It's head....was grotesque. Writhing tentacles and orfices that gaped open and shut and bled and spit green ichor...nothing even remotely human --or even animal-- in those horrible features. Behind it trailed a ooze of slime that bubbled and festered. And the Evil! My word, it had the feel of purest evil that surrounded it like an Aura...made even the knights on either side on the edges of the crowd swoon and the ladies faint dead away, made my skin crawl even at a distance, like a thousand beetles moved under it.

Sabrina's father pushed himself past us and stood before the Thing. Spoke to it with recognition --in fact, with annoyance, like such walking horrors were part of his daily routine. 'How _dare_ you intrude like this!' he bellowed. 'I will have you expelled to the darkest depths of --'

'THE PRICE', the Thing Hissed. 'THE PRICE IS NOT PAID. FIFTY- INNOCENT FAE YOU PROMISED US FOR OUR SACRIFICES, FIFTY PURE HEARTS SLAIN WITH COLD IRON. FORTY-NINE YOU HAVE GIVEN US BEFORE MIDWINTER'S NIGHT. ONE --A MAN-- STILL DUE.'

Sabrina's father made no sign that he acknowledged --or even denied-- the Thing's charges. 'For the temerity to challenge me in my own freehold,' he said coldly, 'take to your master this:' and raised his hands. Energy crackled in them---

---and exploded back around him, causing him to scream in pain as his back arched and he came ten feet off the ground, surrounded in a ball of his own electrical fire. Below him, the ground cracked and fell in on itself, a blazing fire erupted from below, flames hotter than a thousand suns and orange with malice, and great black shafts of smoke poured out --and formed itself into giant hands that cupped the tortured fae Magi within them.

The crowd? We were far beyond fear --we were so dumbstruck with horror nobody even moved. I don't think anyone could. I don't even think we blinked." Christina's face and affect of tone are almost totally flat now.

"'YOUR OATH WAS BEFORE THE DREAMING AND SIGNED IN BLOOD, AND I TAKE WHAT IS OUR RIGHTFUL DUE. POWERLESS ARE THE OATHBREAKERS BEFORE THE DREAMING'S POWER. DELIVER THE LAST SACRIFICE TO US --' and with that the Thing raised it's arm and splayed out it's fingers; green smoke flowed in a stream from it's hand until it touched the Magi --then hardened instantly into a beam as bright as balefire. The Magi's screams reached a crecendo, his body bucked one last time --then fire, smoke and electricity suddenly vanished and his body fell ten feet straight down onto the stone of the floor."

"Sabrina tried to race to her father; one of the Lords held her back. The Thing walked the last few feet up to the now-smoking, unmoving Magus's body, threw down a scroll on top of the unmoving form, and then turned on it's heel and strolled out the way it came."

"It wasn't until the Thing left the room that the room came back to life. People screamed and ran for the exits; it was a miracle nobody was trampled. Sabrina lunged for her fallen father's form; Jakob and a dozen other nobles raced to her side. All was commotion and chaos, and we were cut off from Jakob; by the time the room cleared Sabrina was still weeping by her father's side, still accompanied by a dozen Noble lords and ladies --but Jakob had disappeared."

"He didn't come home that night. We called and called his residence, we called his lab, to no avail. We called Sabrina's father's home, and though we found out that Sabrina had gone into quiet, periously so, we found no word of Jakob. We paced trenches into the floors of the home of Turnberry's parents. We snapped at each other. Finally, as dawn broke the next day, the phone rang. We pounced on it; Turnberry was the one who got it. It was Jakob."

"In retrospect, Turnberry had the good sense to stay calm and neutral throughout the call. It was clear Jakob was disurbed and very agitated; Turnberry used his Pooka birthrights to their fullest, calmly asking question after question. Pookas are the best listeners in the World of Darkness, and Turnberry was an extraordinary listener even by Pooka standards. Turnberry could probably cajole even the most hardened Nephrandi to share his feelings and plans, and he used his skills that night to the fullest.

We could only hear Turnberry's half, but the very questions seemed insane: talks of sacrifices of blood and death by Cold Iron; circles of power and souls in cages. Turnberry finally concluded the phone call, wished Jakob well, and hung up. Then he turned to us with an almost inhuman calm, explaining what Jakob had related.

Sabrina's father promised the Formorians fifty fae sacrifices. Twenty-five maidens, twenty-five men. For whatever reason, Sabrina's father shorted the Formorians by one --a man-- and they had come to claim their rightful due --by taking Sabrina's father's own soul.

But technically, the deal --written on fae skin and tossed down on the Magi's empty body-- hadn't yet come up. If by the midnight of the day that was just now breaking a male fae was delivered to the Circle of Power in northern Chicago, the contract would be considered fullfilled and Sabrina's father restored. It was just that the Formorians didn't think Sabrina's father would pay up, and as a precaution jumped him before he could think of something else to wheedle out of it.

Jakob was going to Chicago to be the sacrifice.

Oh, Jakob didn't think it was Sabrina's father's fault --Sabrina swore that her father could never be capable of this, that the words of the Thing must have been lies. Jakob knew he didn't have the strength to stop the creatures directly or to rescue Sabrina's father's soul --but he could fufill the contract --and save what he thought was an innocent man's life. Or something like that --Jakob seemed a bit uncertain. Like he was trying to convince himself.

'Has the mother-furker gone completely loony-tunes?!?' Ezzie screamed. I have to admit I was feeling exactly the same way, but was too enraged to even speak. Catheon glowered dark blue. Our friend was a nutcase!

Turnberry grimly agreed. It made sense, in a sick, twisted way; Sabrina loved her father dearly; his death would break her heart, quite possibly even be her Undoing. And she refused to believe that her father could be capable of such evil. So Jakob was going to save her father --by offering his own life in exchange."

Christina clearly, even to this day, can't believe it. "It would have been one thing altogether if he were dying for Sabrina. But he was going to die because Sabrina's father furked around one too many times with forces evil beyond measure and slipped on the knife's edge! Had love made him so blind he would sacrifice himself blindly --to die for a man so Evil even the Dreaming itself rebelled? To die on the word of a girl who refused to believe her father capable of such evil?

We weren't going to let him throw away his life --throw away _all_ his lives-- on that. Even if we had to face down Hell itself to do it.

He may have had the head start on us, but we had several aces up our sleeve. The Circle of Power was in the Botanical Gardens north of Evanston --where Turnberry had done his undergraduate. He could Flicker-flash us into Chicago instantly --we could beat Jakob in. Furthermore, Turnberry had also managed to get out of Jakob exactly when and where he was supposed to be --exactly where Jakob was supposed to offer himself to the Formori dreadlords to have his living heart ripped out with instruments of cold iron --to suffer the Final Death for the sake of Sabrina's father.

We formulated a plan. It was plainly obvious that we were dealing with forces way out of our league; we needed help. We sent Ezzie to plead for aid from High King David himself; she protested loudly being sent off like that, but we pointed out that, as an Eshu, she was the one who had the best chance of finding the High King, and the best chance of leading whatever aid he could provide back --Eshus always get to where they need to be, always right in the nick of time, even without knowing consciously how to get there. That was their birthright, just as a Titan's strength was Catheon 's and empathic listening was a Pooka's.

Meanwhile, the three of us -- Catheon , Turnberry and I--- would flicker flash into Chicago. We had less than a day to get ready. Turnberry still had fae contacts in the city; Catheon as an Army Officer had others. From them we stocked up on Glamour for our Cantrips and armed and armored ourselves for Bear--we had no idea what it was that Sabrina's father had gotten himself into, and really had no illusions about being able to put up any kind of significant fight against things like what had taken down Sabrina's father (with the help of the Dreaming, of course, enforcing a broken vow, but still...). On the other hand, what we could do, we could do, and so we strapped on talismanic body armor, chimerical swords and heavy automatic weapons; we discussed tactics and plans -- Catheon now served with the regular army's Special Forces, and so he led the planning; and pretty much prepared for War."

"It was an hour before Midnight when we entered the Dreaming." Christina's face and affect, once lively, then flat, now begins a slow burn. You can see her reliving the story she tells, now the tiger's fury building behind her eyes, her hands reflexively opening and closing slowly as she continues her tale. The pink nimbus still holds, as by willpower she continues to narrate in absolute truth.

"It was a hour before Midnight that we set out from the freehold in Chicago in which we had prepared, the locals, owing Turnberry much, not asking questions as we had prepared seemingly to fight a small War. For that was exactly what we had prepared to do. All three of us could handle firearms, Catheon and Turnberry were skilled in Melee, and we each had our Combat Arts.

Between Turnberry and Catheon calling in dozens and dozens of favors, we had assembled a formitable arsenal of chimerical and mundane weapons. Magical blades of flame and shattering; talismanic experimental projectile and energy weapons limited to the Technocracy's elite, that could kill fae and mortal enemies alike; chimerical shields and ceramic ballistic armor; we must have raided the cream of the Dutchy's and the City's combined arsenals, and now picked and chose what we would bring. I half suspected that if we survived the evening, we would be imprisoned for violating half a dozen federal and Ducal laws. But having come so far for and with our friend, we would go the last mile -- wherever that may lead.

The sight of us calmly cleaning the bores of machine guns and sharpening magical blades, of I slipping into six-point body Armor, Catheon hefting various broad-axes for balance, of Turnberry slinging grenades into a bandolier --I have no idea how Turnberry managed to convince the freehold locals to keep to themselves. Or perhaps they were almost as afraid _of_ us as they were of what we were going to do.

We piled into a non-descript white van, Turnberry taking the wheel in the city he knew well, Catheon and I in the back, all hoping desperately that tonight, of all nights, we wouldn't get stopped by one of Chicago's finest, especially not one working for the Kindred Prince. Entering the Dreaming, we drove North. Soon enough we were at the Botanical Garden; we reached the rock circle that Jakob had described, before anyone else. It was a jagged double ring of broken stone; in the mundane world, a abstract art sculpture that nobody except the artist really understood; here, in it's Dreaming aspect, it was a place of intense evil. Evil that seeped into one's bones, like being soaked in a driving rain, except the rain runs like oil. No cantrip of any kind would work here. We huntched in the nearby trees to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Twenty before midnight. Ten. Doubt began to knaw at us. Had Jakob spoken the truth? Did he even know it? Or had he gone completely mad, or gotten it wrong?

We began to panic in earnest at five before midnight. As much as Turnberry and Catheon tried to force me down, I got up. We could _not_ simply sit there and wait, hoping that Jakob would show up! What if we had the wrong Circle? What if there were other places just over the hill? I, finally taxed beyond the edge of my patience, jumped up and tore through the woods, weapon at the ready, looking desperately for Jakob, hoping that I could find him just over the next ridge or beyond the next stand of trees. Turnberry jumped up after me, but I no longer cared; I had waited long enough; a Fiona does not wait. She acts.

I virtually ran over Jakob as he came up the path to the very circle we had staked out. Exactly on time. A knocker. I should have known.

There was no time for even an exchange of words. He was totally taken by surprise; without even breaking stride I swung the butt of my rifle as hard as I could into Jakob's temple and he dropped, senseless, like a sack of bricks. There was no longer any time for stealth or silence. I screamed out at Turnberry and Catheon to help me haul him back to the van, even as I futilely tried to pick him up. He weighed almost two hundred pounds, and I could barely carry the forty I had on now. Turnberry reached me first and added his strength; Catheon came next and scooped him up in one arm and began sprinting for the van. But even as we began the final all-out race across the parking lot, white smoke began to seep, and then pour, out of the ground all around us. It turned into a mist, and then a fog.

The Formorians were here for their prey.

The plan had been simple; ambush Jakob, get him the hell away from the circle, and keep him safe until the deal was done. After all, if Turnberry's information was right, Jakob hadn't promised anyone anything --so no Dreaming-enforced consequences for oathbreaking-- and if at midnight there was nobody there to be sacrificed, then the deal would default and Sabrina's father would be kept forever in the netherworld. Sabrina would get over the loss it in time, and the guilty --and not the innocent-- would get what they deserved.

So all we had to do was find Jakob and get out. But we had cut the timing far too close, we were not yet at the van, it was clear that some kind of dark opposing force was upon us, and Ezzie and the cavalry was nowhere in sight. The fog rolled in around us, blinding us utterly. As we ran through the banks of cloud heedless, Turnberry threw his hands into the air, pushed out with Eldritch Prime-derived flows of Air and swept away the obscuring fog --just in time to watch the van explode in a massive ball of flame.

So much for escape that way.

We didn't even break stride as we turned sharply away from the inferno consuming the van and began sprinting for the main road leading away from the parking lot --yes, there was a parking lot in the Dreaming version of this place, too. Plan B was escape via Flicker-flash --but the power of the Circle would confound any cantrips of that power untill we put physical distance between us and it. We sprinted for all we were worth; I and Turnbery and Catheon casting Quicksilver so that we'd even have a chance, not even stopping to run bunks, burning pure Glamour all the way. Behind us we could here the howling of something --the sounds of heavy feet pounding down on the pavement --we didn't dare look back or shoot back as we ran for our lives, fearful in doing so we'd trip on a pothole or bump ahead and fall --and be overrun by the pursuers. 

We rounded the corner onto the main road. Ahead of us, a roadblock --several snarling chimerical beasts --we could feel the evil as we ran headlong towards them-- no time even to think- - our chimerical firearms were up in a flash and muzzles blazed as we literally blasted a hole right through their ranks and ran right on through even before the bits of dream-flesh had time to hit the ground. Round One to the good guys...

We had already decided what we would do if we were pursued. Flicker-flash would deliver us immediately to the saftey of Queen Mary Elizabeth's Citadel, and it could be cast on multiple people at once. But the more people an attempt was made to cast on, the exponentially more difficult the Cantrip became --and the greater a chance for failure. So even as I ran till my lungs burst, I pushed and pushed out with my skills, straining against the taint of the circle as it weakened with distance. More -- more -- a bit more --and suddenly the taint was gone, and I could blaze out with Wayfare 5 at Catheon as he carried the limp form of Jakob; one second his Troll legs were pumping the two of them down the road and blazing speed, leaving Turnberry and I behind, the next there was a flash and they were safely gone.

Two down to saftey. Now it was just Turnberry and I. And still no Ezzie in sight. Where had the damned Eshu gone to?

My wind was fast failing me. Catheon could carry ten stone over a mountain range without blinking; Turnberry had the stamina to run a race-horse into the ground, but I was merely ordinary in my own Stamina. Between the effort to cast the last Cantrip and the pell-mell flat out sprint we had been running, my chest and heart were screaming at me and my steps began to falter. I began to fall more and more behind Turnberry. Lacking even the breath to yell, I prayed hard that Turnberry would activate the charm around his neck and Flicker-flash himself clear.

That's when I tripped.

I knew instantly that my pursuers would be on top of me in a second, so even as I fell I rolled, bringing my assault cannon to the forward. I pulled back hard on the trigger as soon as I was sure I was no longer pointing at Turnberry and a hail of explosive shells poured into my pursuers at point-blank range, their bodies tumbling past me, carried foward by sheer momentum. I came up on one knee, already firing into the next wave behind, the chimerical bullets pitching down my attackers, but yet more came, I really just spraying fire into a wall of enemies than really aiming.

Then *WHAM* from behind me was an awesome gout of flame --a blazing light from behind me --I more sensed than saw a towering, burning hulk crashing down directly on me and I instinctively dodged clear, the flame from the smoking flesh sweeping past me and singeing my exposed fur. What the Hell? Then I saw another towering, winged monster explode into flame behind me again--and sillouted against the flame the dark figure of a woman dressed in flowing Arabic headgear and robes --Ezzie! She had dropped right out of the sky, pitching down Cantrips of flame like Death from Above. My Cavalry had arrived, to destroy an enemy I hadn't even realized was behind me.

I heard a snarl to my left --pulled the trigger-- dark, bloody debris washed over me --in my moments of distraction the pursuers had closed the distance to where Ezzie and I made our stand. I could feel Banality's grip hard upon me, as each Redcap and Unseelie Troll I killed --even in self defense--weighed down on my Fae seeming. My weapon jammed; I threw it aside and brought up a sawed-off shotgun; Ezzie threw bolt after bolt of fire, burning her Permanent Glamour up to get more temporary to keep us alive. Time! I needed more time! Even without Bunks, casting Flicker- flash again would at least take a moment's concentration --and I couldn't get that as long as I was using every action to blast some horror or another.

The Dreaming was ablaze with chimerical fire, fallen trees and the bodies of our enemies; who knows what it must have looked like in the mortal world, for while our firearms and enemies were chimerical, they both also had perfectly real physical manifestations. You would think that the Chicago Police --or the Army --would be all over a firefight of this magnitude. Then again, the Garou and Kindred had battled in the streets for a full week in '93; torn up O'Hare and killed nearly half each other's number, made lightening blaze and storms rage, and the city basically sat there and took it. Who knows what dark alliances might pull the goverment's strings to keep would-be rescuers at bay...but it was really all academic while we fought for our lives.

Another explotion, then a sudden slack in the attack. "RUN!" Ezzie screamed, pointing downroad in the second between Quicksilvered actions. I knew instantly what she meant --the way ahead was now once again clear of enemies. I bolted --and saw Ezzie run _past_ me, in the opposite direction --towards the parking lot, towards a giant chimerical Dragon sweeping down the road at both of us --all too fast--all in a blink of an eye -- Ezzie lashing out with Prime 4-- the Dragon lashing out with flame-- the Dragon continuing it's dive right into the pavement, right on top of Ezzie's darkly silloutted form --flame everywhere -- now dark riders on horseback charging out of the flame --I was running again with all my might, without even the time to mourn.

I could hear the hooves. I knew I couldn't keep running, couldn't hope to outrun a horse, needed time to stop casting Quicksilver and enough to cast Flicker-flash and get myself the hell out of dodge --I hadn't seen Turnberry, and Ezzie...Ezzie...oh Ezzie..."

Christina chokes on on pure fury.

"Bastards. I dived into the woods. Spent the glamour --I was now burning my permanent Glamour, too-- to convert into my animal form, shedding my equipment and weaponry as I did so. I certainly had no hope of out-fighting my enemies; my only hope was to out- run them. In my four-legged tiger form, I began racing through the trees. I heard the riders dive in after me. I felt the flash of Holly Strike and arrows whiz past me on all sides.

The ground suddenly opened up ahead into a small culvert cut by a stream. Without even thinking, I leaped it -- the riders behind making the same jump --I heard screams and curses --and a dog- like snarl?!? --turned to look --ran headlong into a tree. Totally stunned, so badly stunned I snapped back into my Pooka form. Instantly the ground curled up around me --the Ensnare Cantrip!-- Flicker-flash was no longer an option. The dark shape of a Formorian snarled in on me --the flash of a blade of flame - -and Turnberry was standing over me, swinging his rapier around again and again to slay enemies innumerous.

Why hadn't the bastard flicker-flashed out like he was supposed to?

I couldn't flicker flash out anymore, but I still had a little Glamour left. Burning the last of my permanent Glamour to useable temporary, I threw up a Runic Circle of protection with all the might I had left around Turnberry and myself --success! Instantly a dome of protective energy locked out our enemies -- but we were just as trapped inside, as formorian hounds surrounded us on all sides. The dark riders pulled up as well. Inside, Turnberry feverishly hacked away at the bonds that held me, trying to free me enough so that he or I could flicker flash us out. Almost, almost, almost...

"HALT, OR YOUR FRIEND DIES." It was that same evil voice, the same that belonged to the Thing that had come to the Imboc celebrations. It was here again --and it held Ezzie firmly in it's grip.

Ezzie! She was alive! She wasn't consumed by flame--but she was hurt bad, possibly bleeding profusely, and this Thing held a blade to her neck.

"Back off, slimeball," Ezzie spat with all the strength she could muster with her injuries, "I've got a dozen companies of Red Branch Knights riding herd right behind me, and if your ass wants to live to see daylight--"

The Thing just laughed. "INSOLENT GIRL! IF YOU _HAD_ HAD ANY HELP WITH YOU, WOULD YOU NOT HAVE BROUGHT IT DOWN ON THE ROAD? ADMIT IT --YOU FAILED IN YOUR QUEST; KING DAVID WOULD GIVE YOU NO AID; YOU RETURNED, ALONE, TO FACE BATTLE WITH YOUR FRIENDS. TELL ME I LIE!"

Ezzie's crestfallen face was all the confirmation we needed.

The Thing continued. "YOU HAVE CAUSED ME NO END OF TROUBLE TONIGHT. THAT WHICH I LOST I CANNOT EASILY REPLACE; THE VERY DREAMING REBELLS AGAINST THE CARNAGE THAT HAS HAPPENED TONIGHT, AGAINST THE INJUSTICE I HAVE PERPETRATED; MANY ARE THE FAVORS I HAVE HAD TO SPEND TO KEEP THIS WAR AWAY FROM THE AUTHORITIES. EVEN NOW, WITHIN YOUR SHIELD, I CANNOT TOUCH YOU, NOR STAY YOUR FLIGHT. BUT KNOW THIS;" the Thing said with deep, deep malice, "IN THE INSTANT THAT YOU FLASH OUT OF HERE, SHE" shaking Ezzie, lodged firmly in his grip, "DIES THE FINAL DEATH."

"And if we don't?" I spat.

The Thing grinned. "THEN YOU ACCEPT MY MERCY."

"Run, damnit!" Ezzie cried, tears running down her face. If she could have cast even one more self-immolatory cantrip to buy us time, she would have, but the Thing, it was clear, was preventing her that end, too.

Turnberry and I looked at each other. There was only one way anyone could flicker-flash out of here.

Turnberry spoke first. ["We knew this time would come,"] he said with great gravity, emphasizing each word.

["But it honors noone for all of us to die forever here. Death must come for the greater good. I will bear the first brunt of guilt all my days,"] he said. I nodded, eyes filled with tears.

Turnberry readied his sword to cut the last of my bonds. He gathered himself, grabbing the neck-charm of flicker-flash, almost hating the awful thing that he would do next. He slashed.

And the world flashed to white."

Christina looks down at the bar.

She looks up. "We had known this could have happened, was one of the classes of possibilities that Catheon and we had discussed before we set out. That we would be cornered; that one or more of us would be held prisoner, that we would have to choose between dropping our weapons and being slaughtered, or fleeing and watching one of our friends die, die probably the Final Death. Anyone who knows anything about Changelings knows the power of Cold Iron --and would not hesitate to use it against us. Hell, anyone who's ever watched an action movies knows that the Bad Guy holding one of the Good Guys hostage is a possibilty --either some escape, or noone does.

So we planned for it. If that terrible moment arrived, what we would do. If it was between one of us facing the Final Death, or all of us. Decide in advance, so we could act together, and know we could live with the consequences.

That's why Turnberry, in the instant he released me from the last of my bonds, cast a blinding blaze of light with Eldritch Prime, then while our enemies were blinded cast Hopscotch and made a jumping attack to drive the point of his flaming sword into Ezzie's brain.

Chimerical and mortal death still offer hope of rebirth. The Thing had a cold iron blade to Ezzie's throat, and no cantrip would work to stay the blade; killing Ezzie by other means before she could be slain by cold iron would save her soul."

Christina shrudders, as if the cold logic of their actions itself still caused pain.

"It all happened so fast, and was so confusing --the flash of light --Turnberry's anguished scream --a blazing nimbus-- an axe flying out of nowhere-- the war-cry of a Troll --a flash of Catheon diving down from the trees, guns blazing --fire everywhere-- my own screams of pain-- -- Catheon being beaten savagely down by the Thing -- Turnberry tackling me from behind - - the tingling of Flicker-flash --white light -- darkness.

The last thing I remember, more than the searing pain of my wounds, was the wrenching pain in my heart where I held my Oathmates dear.

Esmerelda.

Catheon .

I will never forgive Sabrina's father for as long as he and I live."

Christina stares down at the bar for a while longer.

"'They say True Love, the Love that can convince a man to offer up his life for that which his Trueheart holds dear; the Love that can make friends lay down their lives --or even take the lives of their friends--, for each other's sake, no longer exists in this world. They lie. They lie because I have seen it myself.'

'And it is to protect that that I leave this world forever.'

That's the first thing I heard when I awoke; I was a bed, in my Pooka form. Standing over me was Sabrina's father --may Oblivion take his soul-- and the very first thing I did was leap straight out of bed to rip his throat out with my teeth."

Christina laughs savagely. "Ha! Like that's going to do much against one of the most powerful spellcasters in the entire World of Darkness! He didn't even move a muscle before I was trapped, suspended in mid-air. I couldn't move an inch, but if rage alone could kill, his putrid heart would have stopped right on the spot. I readied myself for a final strike --converting all of my permanent glamour into one blazing throw to burn this son-of-a- bitch off the face of creation.

Well, obviously, I didn't do it, cause I'm standing here now.

I heard a voice behind me. 'Christina! Don't do it! Don't waste it on this slimy piece of shit.'

It was Ezzie.

Ezzie? Alive? That knowledge overpowered my hate enough to turn, and Sabrina's father let me go. I reached the ground, spun around, and there was Ezzie-- healthy as could be. And Catheon , and Turnberry, and Jakob, all running into my room.

'But, how....' I stammered. 'The Thing... the forest...'

'You mean, this?' from Sabrina's father. I turned behind me to face Sabrina's father once more. He stared at me impassively, then shifted. Into the form of the Thing. And back again.

I sat down hard on the bed. My legs would no longer support me.

Sabrina's father spoke again, this time gentle. 'There never was any Thing, any sacrifices, any dark deals. I swear upon the Dreaming, may it strike me down if I lie, that I have never taken an innocent life, nor made any promise to forces Infernal or Umbral.'

I waited for the Dreaming to smack him down. It didn't.

Sabrina's father sat down on the bed next to me, tried to put a hand on my shoulder. I struck it away and stood up. He sighed.

'Sabrina is my life. My joy, my light. I would not have just any man be her guardian and Trueheart --I want a man of honor. Of courage. Who knows that True Love requires sacrifice, and who trusts Sabrina's word enough to die for it. I needed a test.

Why did you all believe the worst about me? Why did none of you try to find the truth? How hard would it have been to scrye the scroll, or my estate, or my body, to find the falsehood in that entire scene at Imbolic?'

I had no answer, for he was right. Did the old Magus, at any time during the scene at Imbolc, suggest that the Thing spoke the truth? Never. Had anyone bothered to figure out whether the Thing lied. No. Noone, _noone_, except Sabrina --and Jakob, who believed her-- had but doubted that the old coot had finally cheated one too many infernal forces.

But Jakob, weighing everything he believed about the old man, against his conviction that Sabrina was telling the truth, had gone to offer his life for what he was convinced was an honest man --because Sabrina had believed it so, and because Jakob had no hard evidence to refute her.

'Of all the noble Knights and Lords, of all the Sidhe and commoners alike, only one man believed Sabrina when she said I was innocent --only one man loved her enough to die for her by offering his life for mine.

But that is not enough. Love and madness are often intertwined, and I would not have my daughter marry a madman. I would not rest my daughter's future on a single test. Nay, life itself is the greatest test, and a man truly worthy would have earned friends of equal caliber --friends willing to die for him. And for each other.

That was the second test.'

He stood to face us. 'When Jakob went to his certain death --when you found out about it-- you moved in to stop him, to save his life. To have watched all of you fight for each other --offer your lives for each other --to have seen the Depth of True Love that made you risk all to save your friend, even when you thought him mad --a man who can inspire that kind of devotion in his friends is a worthy man indeed.

And I know now that I leave Sabrina in good hands --those of Jakob, and those of all of you.'

He sighed.

'I leave this world now, for the Deep Umbra. Out there is an evil beyond anything on this earth, an Evil I have explored for centuries, battled for decades, and now prepare to face head-on. The Ascension War, the Accordance War, the Jyhad -ha!' he snorted derisvely, 'even as all of you fight your insignificant wars here on Earth, an enemy beyond anyone's comprehension awaits beyond, an evil older than the stars themselves.

Earth's most powerful spell-casters go forth to fight it. Many of the Masters who supposedly fell with Dossisstep are now there. So too are the Technocratic High Masters supposedly assasinated. So too I join them. It is not a battle from which I will return. Fate has shown me that.

Why should I sacrifice my life and talents out there on the far horizon?

For Love such as this,' he says, motioning to us all.

'Jakob, I leave you Sabrina and my estate, my wealth and my blessing. She is now asleep; I have cast subtle magics on her; when she awakes, she will believe that I have left on a trip, and will return someday, many years from now. She will continue to belive that until the day she dies.

You, Jakob, will take her hand in marriage, and noone will stop you, for it has been decreed by none other than High King David himself. I need not ask you to protect her all of your days, for I know you shall --and that your friends will save you even when you falter.'

'All of you never left the ballroom on Imbolc,' the Magi says, turning his attention to us. 'As soon as you walked in the door, you entered my enchantments. Everything that happened since was nothing but a dream, until you awoke here. Everyone else went home and woke up this morning, not remembering the night; the story is that a Pooka spiked the punch and you all forgot. Apologies for using your kith as a scapegoat again,' he says, turning to Turnberry and I. 'But the annoucement will come forth that Sabrina is to wed Jakob, and with fear of me and the word of King David, none will contest.'

He strides through us into the other room, the room from which my Oathmates had just come. There, Sabrina lies on a bed, gently sleeping.

The old Magi leans over her, runs his hands over her hair, lingers. He gently, gently kisses her on the forehead; tears glisten in his eyes. He very slowly straigtens up, faces us.

'May True Love last forever; for this I fight. May you one day forgive me for what I have done to you; and may we meet again on the other side of Death, in the lands where no shadows fall.'

And with that, he opened a gateway in mid-air and was gone."

Christina puts her chin in her hands; the pink nimbus is now dying, slowly. "In many senses, he was right; no harm had been done; all of what happened wasn't real; he had tested Jakob's heart --and ours-- and found True Love worthy of his daughter."

"But I still cannot forgive what he put us through, and perhaps never will."

She looks up at Mahri. "So, do I get that drink?"

-Christina