Archmage Asking

Arcanists Guild dungeons, afternoon

The Arcanists Guild's dungeon allows no man to step foot onto its grounds carrying a magical item. Not even the archmage whom reset the wards. Nor even the woman he brings with him who... is perhaps even more potentially deadly than he. Though, to be fair, Telamon surrounds himself with deadly women today, and they are each divested of their magical equipment alongside him.

Down into the depths of the dungeons which are quiet of late. One of the cells holds a recent addition who screams his fury to the stones since they're the only ones that'll listen. "I DON'T BELONG HERE!!!"

But all the prisoners of this place say the same, which brings you to Cerberus's cell. The young man is barely that, just a little over the age of majority and already in quite a lot of trouble. He sits with a book today in his hands cradled like the precious possession that it is. He sets it down however when he notices that he has guests, and almost trips over his mouth when he sees Telamon. "A-a-archmage?" He squeaks.

It's odd to see Telamon escorting a woman who isn't his wife, though from their body language and dynamic, it's a strictly platonic (if that) relationship. He treats her with... not exactly deference, but courtly grace, as if she is a visiting royal.

After divesting themselves of their magical gear (a process that takes a bit of time, since veteran adventurers and archmages tend to be armed and equipped to the teeth), they follow the wardens down into the dungeons. At the angry screams, Telamon's eyebrows rise, and he shakes his head in disdain, continuing along the path. When they come to a stop outside Cerberus's cell, the half-sil regards the young man with a calm, stern expression.

"Yes. And you would be... Cerberus, I believe." It's not a question.

Murder sticks close to the Archmage, fidgeting with her furs and leathers, as if something were bothering her. She seems a bit lighter, having divested herself of a veritable treasure trove of magical gear back outside. One can almost see the stormcloud above her, following the grumbly Goblin along.

"Why do they ban magical items if they won't work down here anyways?", she grumbles to no one in particular. "How do they set wards here, with all this stuff in here?" She means the rock above and around them. "Wouldn't it be better to shove them into some pocket dimension? Like a bag of holding evil magical prisoners?"

She cants her head to one side.

"THIS is the guy we're here to see?"

Her eyes go up and down a few times, and she looks to Telamon. "What's so special about him?"

Carver trails after the others, soft-pawed with or without her equipment. The white of her left eye swims with red. No magical enchantment, buried deep as they are in the Arcanist's Hole, but clearly some sort of unclear and very recent trauma. Probably just an errant spell or something.

Murder's complaints do not cause her to speak up, but at the question, she does interject. "Nothing." Cerberus and Carver best friends forever.

The woman who is accompanying Telamon uncouples her arm from Telamon's, striding up to the bars. Faphinae Cari'thana is dressed the way she's always dressed, sans rapier on the weapon belt (as she willingly divested herself of it, going into the dungeons): a long dark dress, ornamented this day with long black feathers that are reminiscent of a raven's, and with very tall (and somewhat perilous-looking) heels on her black boots. "In any domain that is not one's own," the white-haired sildanyar woman says in her smooth and dark tone, "one must play by the rules set before them by the rule-maker."

Her silver eyes, which glow softly, peer into the cell. "That question is exactly why I am here," she says. "You. Cerberus, was it?"

Faphinae lifts her chin. A smile plays across her lips in all too disconcerting of a fashion. It's a little too high at the corners. Especially with the way the shadows fall on her face... "Care to inform me of how you came to be in here, little dog?" she asks.

It's not a question, but Cerberus nods anyways, and when Murder asks what's special about him he colors in response. However Carver's words have his head lowering and nodding slowly. "She's right. There's nothing special about me." He sighs. "I'm just the fool that got myself into a mess that landed me where I rightfully belong."

His eyes flicker toward Telamon, and there's a flicker of fear in his eyes. He doesn't get the question on his lips out of his mouth however before Faphinae steps forward and he blanches at the woman's approach. Cerberus's lips twist in slight displeasure, but he shrugs. "I was hired by some fae... they said they were lords but..." His shoulders slump. "They could have been anyone. They wanted me to stop a few shipments from Lord Ahu's estate that were on their way to the fae lands. Said they'd let me live in faerie if I did it."

Telamon for his part is studying Cerberus with interest. After all, he's only met one other changeling, and he's looking for possible common traits seen. "A group of fae lords calling themselves the 'Lords Tamlin'." He snorts. "But to someone desperate to find a home, a place where they'd belong... any option would look appealing."

"I admit, I'm kind of curious as to who would profit from keeping Lord Ahu and his fey lover apart. But since I don't know the principal actors in this play... I have to start with the closest loose thread I can find."

Faphinae definitely gives the Goblin the heebie-jeebies, the wee woman looking away when the woman smiles. Looking at Cerberus, she grins a little at his blush. Her eyes flick to Carver a moment, before settling back on the young man.

"Ah. Fae." Murder runs a hand through her messy hair. "They are often tricksy with their words, and you have to be careful how you speak with them. I would suggest not making deals with them if you can avoid it, they will often get the better of you."

Looking to Carver, the Goblin wonders, "Why do you say there's nothing special? I mean... if that were the case, they'd hold him in the regular jail. They only hold dangerous, magical troublemakers here. Like... IF I had a bit of a chaotic bent, they'd hold me here to keep me from setting the city on fire, for example. Some Goblins would do that just to watch the place burn. Or like... if I were summoning dukes of hell into this world, you know, little things like that." She gestures at the young man. "So either there's been some sort of huge mistake... or he's someone special. Hmmm... are they protecting him then?"

A glance to Telamon. "If he's annoyed the fae, would this place keep him safe." A very obvious glance is had at Faphinae, and Murder squints a moment.

GAME: Carver rolls knowledge/nature+4: (3)+16+4: 23

Carver gives Murder a look. "Dangerous does not mean special." She runs her fingers together, anxiously. "Someone who knew that the puppy lived, would be the place to start. Innit that righ' that the father was the fey, right? You don't come from a rich home so... someone knew you existed and what you might want enough to find you."

She then waves off the thought, "Ah, you're not here to listen to me." Let the nobility speak.

Faphinae lifts a single pale-haired brow at the mention of the Lords Tamlin. "Who?" she asks, before she looks a little disgusted. "Are they Seelie? His Majesty has yet to acknowledge my presence with even a single messenger. It is rather like them to be so high-nosed in regard, but..."

A silver eye glances in the direction of Murder. "Any monarch's competent assassin would be able to get in here and do away with him post-haste," she says meaningfully. "But a lesser lord might have lesser access to competent and skilled people."

However, Carver's remark draws a smirk from Faphinae. "But I am, dear," she says. Her voice is a lilting sort of purr. "Never let anyone with a crown on their brow or gold on their fingers treat you as though your voice does not matter. For you bring up a good point."

Faphinae looks at Cerberus. "Do you know who your father is? Could you tell me?" She's smiling again--that horrible smile that's just a bit too high.

Cerberus shrugs his shoulders at Telamon's words. "I have no idea why they cared about Lord Ahu." He wishes he did, but the truth is that he let them use him without asking any of the questions that he should have. "As for my father... Mother described him to me many times before she died, but the name she gave me was... Tamlin. I thought that the Lords Tamlin were his friends or allies at first. I didn't know until afterwards that Tamlin is a name that the fae use to hide behind. Like a well-known pseudonym."

He looks at Faphinae. "Perhaps his name really was Tamlin. Or... Maybe me and my mother were both fools. Thinking that he existed as more than a fever dream. In truth the man she described to me doesn't sound like much of a real person..."

Telamon gives Carver a look. "We've had this conversation before, you know. Stop putting yourself down, I won't have it. Not here, not anywhere." His starry eyes rest on the ranger for a long moment, before his attention turns back to Cerberus.

"It's a start, though. Why don't you tell us what he looks like, for starters? I grant sometimes fey appearances can be deceiving, but even deceptions can leave clues behind." He makes a face. "Though it does complicate matters."

"It's been my experience that most everyone has something useful to contribute.", Murder says to Carver. "And Lady Whatshername said your question was pertinent, so..." A glance is had at Faphinae again. "You would think that, but somehow... I doubt that. Maybe a regular prison, you'd have a salient point."

The Goblin nods at Telamon's question, and she looks to Cerberus again. "Ah, your father was a fae lord then? That's more common than you'd think, if many faerie tales are to be believed."

Carver shifts her gaze off to the left at the reminder to not shoot herself, rubbing at her cheek with knuckles. As close as a 'Right, got it' as one is likely to get. She is still very clearly in tune with the conversation. It's a few very big questions being asked.

Faphinae wrinkles her brow in thought. "Anything may be of use in identifying. A physical description, some pastimes, favored foods... What might be minor in detail to you may be a known and famous thing about a courtier."

Then she seems to think a moment longer. "Lord Ahu... I know that name. He was courting the Baroness Mori'amana, yes? Of the Court of the Midnight Foam. My predecessor was none too fond of their courtship." Her expression sours. "The Queen always thought it was a fall from grace for any of the fae to mingle their attentions, or--worse, in her eyes--bloodlines, with those who are not fae..."

Then she looks at Telamon in the middle of that thought. "Cul," she says. "Do you think..."

Cerberus thinks for a moment then, finally describes his father as his mother had described him to Cerberus years gone by. "He had long orange-red hair. As in it looked like a sunset. His skin was pale like the moon, and flawless. He was handsome, but delicate in his features. Taller than my mother by nearly a foot, but that would have made him relatively short." Cerberus smiles a little. "I myself would be about two inches taller than he if her accounting is right. She said he smelled of grass in the rain, and that he made her think of fields of wheat whenever he was around. None of the lords I saw looked like him at all."

GAME: Telamon rolls knowledge/nature+4: (10)+21+4: 35

GAME: Carver rolls knowledge/nature+4: (4)+16+4: 24

GAME: Murder rolls knowledge/nature: Trained Use Only: 0

GAME: Riptide rolls 1d20+20: (8)+20: 28

GAME: Murder rolls knowledge/nobility: Trained Use Only: 0

Telamon shakes his head firmly at Faphinae. "No. Cul would've hauled him to Quelynos before you could say 'succession crisis' as proof he, ah... didn't have an empty quiver." He smirks faintly at Faphinae's comments about the Queen. "Well, her opinion didn't seem to stick with the dryads. They just -love- the farmboys..."

He frowns, rapping his knuckles absently on the bars. "Damn it, this sounds familiar. Cerberus, did he bear any device, any notable garment, weapon, or jewelry on himself? I -knew- I should've spent more time in Grandfather's library with the books on fey nobility..."

"Empty quiver?" The Goblin tilts her head at that euphemism. She looks at Cerberus again. 'Ah, at least you got something from your father, a decent height." She clears her throat. "Who is Cul?"

Carver shakes her head, she does not recognize this man. There are some strong features but, what makes it stand out from beautiful fey creatures everywhere? She frowns in thought, working at the bone like a dog. "I don't know that name. I can ask about but the Yggsdrasil."

"Cul the Cruel was my predecessor's son," Faphinae explains to Murder. "Prince of the Unseelie Court. As his epithet would imply, he was exceedingly cruel and abusive... much like his mother in many respects. He was, however, infertile--a fact that would have doomed his bloodline and the Court along with it." She smirks as she adds, "Had, of course, new management not shown up to take the reins."

She looks contemplative again. "Red hair. Short. Smelled of grass in the rain and fields of wheat... By the stars, the description alone is screaming 'Seelie'. Certainly not Cul the Cruel, for which we all can be glad. Yet, for all of their numbers I have personally slit the throat of in my heyday, I do not recall a name or person by this description."

Cerberus shrugs at Telamon. "He was said to have exceedingly bespelling eyes. Blue in color-" He starts to say more but Faphinae's words catch his attention at last and he stares at her. "Predecessor? Prince Cul dead? But... That would make you..." He swallows heavily and his eyes widen in surprise. He doesn't say anything else, too surprised to even think straight.

Carver smirks as Cerberus finally clues in.

A sudden chill crawls down Telamon's back. At first, he's tempted to ask if the man called himself 'Glorenacil', but the idea would be just proof Tarien needed to be put on a shorter leash. And then something bubbles up from when he was studying the fey, after he'd wed Lana and was getting to know Grandfather. The Courts of Seelie and Unseelie, and their reputations...

And suddenly Telamon's mouth opens, but what comes out is surprising. "Oh, no." He reaches up to put his hand over his face. "Fffff...." Gritting his teeth, he looks at Faphinae. "You know who this sounds like? The King of the Seelie Court. Named by some, Obyron, or the Lord of the Sunrise Lands."

Carver looks over as Telamon gives his best guess. She can't find a compelling argument as to why it could not be a king. Just leaves even more question why the king would be taking personal steps to stop a courtship between mortal and nereid but... well, they have something to at least use as a baseline. "I suppose I can't say it can't be the Lord. Wonder why he would take such a personal approach though."

She looks over Cerberus, trying to determine how much their features match up with their father. "What was your mother's name?"

"That would make her princess of the court?", the Goblin wonders of Cerberus. She looks to Faphinae then. "You slit throats, hmm? Does that mean you were this court assassin you spoke of earlier? And that by 'any court assassin', you really meant you?" Her arms cross. "Adventurer, assassin, close enough!" A snort is had before she looks to Telamon.

"So would this Oberon guy go around pretending to be this Tamlin fae?"

A laugh leaves Faphinae.

It's the culmination of Cerberus's horrified expression and Murder's questions. Something is awfully amusing to the woman. Yet her laughter isn't fully... mortal. It twinkles like bell-toll. It's melodic in the ways that laughter isn't. Like sonorous song, it fills the space, and then, Faphinae gathers herself with a long breath, a hand with long, long black nails on her face as though she needs it to right herself.

Her silver eyes burn with witchlight.

"A mortal assassin made queen, who refused to let a woman wearing a crown continue to step on the necks of everyone and everything around her. No more will the Unseelie Queen turn a blind eye to a son committing atrocity after atrocity." Faphinae's voice is not amused, despite her laughter. No, she's deadly serious. "For all of my loveliness now, you cannot begin to understand the scars on my heart from having served such a woman. Cerberus--I apologize. I called you little dog. That was before I had the fuller understanding of what you were and what role you played."

She looks at Murder. "The Mad King of the Seelie Court is exactly that--mad. He may even believe that is his own name now, but his appetite for... companionship is legendary. It is realistic to believe that it is him. The fact he has not sent anyone to come collect Cerberus may be explained by his cognitive impairment." Faphinae scowls before she looks at Cerberus.

"Thus why we have come here. I would like to take you away from here, to be secreted away to my Court for safe-keeping." Faphinae's eyes narrow. "Before someone _does_ come with a dagger for your throat."

Cerberus swallows heavily. Not really believing that which is being said about him. "You mean that my mother... Her name was Daphine... She wasn't lying to me? There's really someone that... like that... and he's a *king*?" His whole life he's wanted - needed - to be in the fae lands like it's a lost limb to him, he'd been willing to do anything to reach it. Now... they're saying his dad is a king? It seems... too far-fetched even for his fantasies.

"Yes, but unfortunately, as Her Majesty puts it, he's... probably not playing with a full deck. But considering his proclivities, I can't see him interfering with Lord Ahu." Telamon rubs the nape of his neck. "Which makes me think it's a third party interfering. But... that will have to be sorted out shortly."

He gives Cerberus a serious look. "But yes. Her Majesty can bring you to Quelynos, to the fey lands. If that's what you want. If you want my advice, though... don't trade on your father's name or title. Carve out your own place, with your own name."

"Like they told me. Carve your own path. The Archmage is jus' giving you a shove." Carver says.

Something of what Telamon says lights a fire in Murder, her eyes glowing red briefly.

"Yeah. Make your own name." She thumps her chest. "I was found on a battlefield, with my sister, both of us babies. We were carried away by an Ork. He didn't know our names, when we were old enough, we chose our own." Her grin is broad and toothy. "You can make your own path. Be who you want to be. Go adventure. See the fae world. Explore!"

Faphinae nods gently to the remarks of the others. "Regardless if he is truly your father or not," she says, "my Court is bucking the unkindness of the old. I ran into Quelynos as a young child to escape a house that was not a home. There, I hoped for solace, and kindness, and beauty enough in the world to fall in love with it enough to wish to live. And there was beauty there. Kindness and solace... They fell away soon enough when the Queen revealed her true nature to me. My Court will be that which I did not have."

Her silver eyes turn gentle. There's a maternal streak in her somewhere. "My Court will be a place you can call home."

Carver does not smile, though, if anything. Some of that cold huntress bleeds into it. She does add one thing though that does sour the mood. "Before you go, you have to apologize to Deathless." Or else.