Fire of the Sun

GAME: Skyler rolls perception: (12)+13: 25

GAME: Thurid rolls perception: (4)+14: 18

Bryn has arrived.

GAME: Irshya rolls perception: (9)+19: 28

GAME: Carver rolls perception: (9)+20: 29

GAME: Haggerty rolls perception+2: (8)+7+2: 17

GAME: Bryn rolls perception: (7)+12: 19

GAME: Khepri rolls perception: (8)+13: 21

Arcanists Dungeons

Standing just outside the dungeon waiting to get in is taking longer than is usual. This is due to the new precautions that have been imposed for entry into the dungeons. A pat-down. A guard with a lens that allows them to see with True Sight. All of this on top of the old precautions of being divested of all magical gear. There's even more guards on duty. Two whom are doing the patting down and viewing, and two standing over by the entrance just in case the first two fail in some way to prevent unauthorized entry.

The sky is blue though, and the weather is fine for waiting. This would be miserable in the winter, but in the near-summer warmth it's not so bad. Especially considering the sheer number of people who have come to question the fae being held in the dungeons today.

"Sure has a lot of visitors..." One of the guards remarks, looking displeased. "You'll have to go down with one of the guards. This many of you; we need to have control of this number of people. Just in case you understand." Just in case it's another attempt at a prison break he means.

Thurid might seem like a bit of an odd-one-out here, she's not really been involved in the capture or pursuit of any of the tricksters to be questioned. But, she has had more than a few dealings with the fair folks of late- that strange not-cat creature, and one of the Rook's victims most notably. And so she feels it'll behove her to learn a little bit more about this neighboring world that she's felt the ripples of, if not yet dipped her toes in. She frowns at the entryway, and her hammer is handed over only begrudgingly. She does offer it to the guard, but he has to yank it a couple of times before she relinquishes her grip on it. "Feel downright naked without chainbreaker..." she grumbles.

Nevertheless, once so divested she joins those others waiting to be lead down. Her usually jovial nature seems somewhat subdued as she eyes the structure. There's something about prisons that has just never sat right with her.

Entry into the prison is tightly controlled-- probably more so than usual these days. But there are threads to be tugged to unravel this riddle, and Khepri cannot let them slide.

The golem does a double take at one of the alleys across from the dungeon, but then stoically dismisses it. Khepri is already uneasy with the absence of Kastuvas (left stowed on her stand in the temple). The rest of its gear it willingly divests to the guards, as well as the requirement of an escort. "It is acceptable," the Executor intones. "The events surrounding this prisoner seem to have far reaching consequences." Impassively, Khepri turns to regard the others. "We shall proceed when you are ready."

Carver comes to a stop, looking down the very same alleyway that briefly held Khepri's attention. Her face, too young to be that hard, expresses little but a certain burning indignation settles about her eyes in tense lines. A deep breath and exhale. She twists back to rejoin the others as they file into the prison, relinquishing her enchanted accoutrements.

The Pool Shark is a fidgety waiter. Her patience is rather limited, which is not a surprise given her Goblin nature. She planned ahead, simply arriving in her priestly robes, and leaning against her Trident. But her tail thrashes back and forth, and she impatiently taps her foot.

"Why are there so many, today of all days?", she mutters. Then, her frown deepens. A cat.

A black cat. Irshya bares her teeth, triangular and sharp, with one of the upper ones missing. She gestures with a quick flick of her hand. "SHOO shooooo! Tssss yah!" Whether it stays or goes is lost on the Goblin, for the line moves shortly thereafter.

The wee priestess hands over her trident, and allows them to ensure that her holy symbol, that of a miniature trident hanging around her neck, is non-magical in nature.

Rather than attempting to disarm his coat completely of the many hidden and cleverly stowed gear, Skyler simply shucked his entire jacket, leaving him in just a billowy white shirt, his leather pants and a pair of slippers scrounged up to replace his magical boots. He looks oddly naked without all his current gear, especially his deadly curved sword, but the mind is a mightier weapon!

Well. In anyone else, maybe.

He shrugs one shoulder at Thurid, and gives the big woman a grin, "According to monastic sages, it's our possessions that truly make us prisoners." He intones, "Maybe the real chainbreaker is the friends we make along the way?" Just what is he doing here, anyways? Oh look at that lampshade! "Is anyone going to mention the cats?" He asks Carver as he takes the position behind her, "It makes me nervous. Did you know cats will eat their owners if they die around them?"

Considering the last time she was near here there were floozies flirting their way past the guards, Bryn is happy to see more guards being thorough. This is her first time trying to actually go inside, though. Not letting weapons in is pretty expected, so she didn't even bring her big curveblade. Things like her mechanical arm and crystal eye-patch were not even thought of... until she's stopped for them.

"Ye serious?!" She's more surprised than beligerant and snorts. "Well, weren' goin there for playin cards 'r clappin, anyways..." So things get unbuckled, unlatched, pulled off, and handed over. "Feel free ta polish it while ye got it."

Aelwyn was more than willing to give away all of his gear - then again, he was mostly left down to his red loincloth, happy crimson silk ribbons and some leather straps that used to hold down things. Not him, anymore. The only thing he was reluctant to part was his glaive; but he gave away it in the end.

"Not the possessions - but our bothersome drags, the fabrics that bind our flesh that yearns to be free." He tells Skyler, but the ruddy draconian seemed distracted. He did try to push aside the harsh memories of that one bloody, disastrous night - watching with complete helplessness as someone had their skull opened with a dull- "Though this one wonders why are so many interested in getting involved in the business of those that would steal our names, for is it not always considered a bullshit idea?" He wonders out lout with a grim grin on his face.

Haggerty is not that perfectly rooted in his mystic wholesomeness space like missionary priests and agents of faiths tend to be. The lightweight with the pointy hat is versed in guard and watch protocol, however, and will make like his all-black pugly friend: abide. The redhead smiles brightly when he hands over the sack with items before the Aesir is bodily and magically searched. The slight numbing of his mind makes him a little edgier, but there is the dogelet whose ears and neck the arcanist can and will treat. A merry slap to the shoulder and a crushing return to half his back from a meaty mitt covered in uniform leather has the young spellslinger wince yet speak a few words with one of the searchers, "Good meeting you here, Mix.." Oooooof. "..os! I see that candle was not in vain. No more nightwatch.."

There. They may proceed. "Greetings, colleagues of Mixos!" The Stormgardian notes nothing special, but a quick glance cannot be of harm. There might be something of interest, after all.

With everyone divested of their gear, the guards motion the group forward where a fifth guard (hidden from view by the building) awaits to lead them down, down, down in to the dungeons. It's a cool trip down into the depths lit only by the uncertain light of torches. The oppressive feeling of a building and others above pressing down upon you as you walk further and further down.

The fae woman is in general population with the other (mostly low-risk) but still dangerous individuals are being held. Her red hair gives her away, and though she was once clad in garments of fine make now she wears the same garb as all the prisoners here. She looks up as the group comes down the stairs and toward her cell.

In the distance a man yells that he is unfairly persecuted and that he doesn't belong here, but that's what they all say.

Turning her eyes away from the group and offering only a haughty expression the woman ignores you all as best she can, but it's easy to tell that she wasn't expecting... quite so many of you.

Thurid grins at Skyler, "Ah, you're probably right." she agrees, and then pounds one fist into the palm of her other hand. "Besides, I've broken chains and bent bars with my bare hands when I've had the need." she says. And then flushes a little, "Not that I've any intention of doing so." she tells the guards. "Not today, anyway. I'm sure you've got all sorts of very good reasons to be holding your prisoners." she tries to keep the 'There'd better be' out of her voice and *mostly* succeeds. She's playing nice today. She does lean down towards Skyler, "I once shoulder barged my way through a wall, even." she whispers, a conspirational smirk on her features

She spies Irshya nearby, offers the little goblin a wave, and then points to her shoulder with an inquiring tilt of her head. With or without a passenger, she continues onwards into the prison, eyeing the various grim passages and despondent prisoners. She keeps her hands to herself, but is clearly unhappy about the place. When she hears the yell, she looks that way. She'd be a terrible prison guard. But no, wait, distractions. She'll talk to him and hear his story later. She turns towards the prisoner they are actually here to see, but lets those more familiar with her take the lead.

GAME: Irshya rolls knowledge/local: Trained Use Only: 0

GAME: Skyler rolls knowledge/nobility: (16)+4: 20

Down into the dungeons. An unpleasant place. And Khepri feels oddly... alone, despite being surrounded by guards and adventuring comrades. The wargolem resolves to contemplate this later, at prayers. As they pass down the halls, the angry shouts of one man catch its attention, but that's not why they're here.

Deliberately, Khepri unlatches the plague-doctor mask that covers its faceplate, the pale oval exposed and its yellow eyes regarding the fae woman.

Silently, the golem nods, the frozen countenance impassive, unyielding.

GAME: Aelwyn rolls knowledge/nobility: (10)+3: 13

GAME: Aelwyn rolls knowledge/local: (2)+3: 5

GAME: Skyler rolls knowledge/local: (10)+4: 14

Irshya happily acknowledges Thurid's wave with one of her own, her mood lifting. She limps over to the Jotunblooded woman, and holds up her arms. Once settled safely on Thurid's shoulder, the Goblin gives a pat to the giant's cheek. "How have you been, Thurid? Busy, hmm? You should stop by the TarRaCe some time, for ale and a meal. We've got some giant chickens in, and I mean giant! They're even better than regular chicken!"

She leans in to whisper directly into Thurid's ear.

"Do you know what this fae is and why she's in here?"

"A very cute game, 'Fire of the Sun'." Carver sneers. "One that you must find as exhausting as I am exhausted of. Would you prefer I use your family name when I address you, Laiextsa, or are we not on a first name basis yet after all this?"

"Glad you'll be useful." Skyler laughs at Thurid when she reveals her past as a battering ram, "Personally? I'm pretty damn useless without my gear." He scratches his jaw, "I mean, I'm a squirrelly fucker and can dodge hits okay, but if it gets too bad I'll give you moral support. From the rear."

He then rolls his shoulders, and chuckles at Aelwyn, "Too true on the possessions. But I have a hoarder mentality, unfortunately."

He glances over at the cell, and says quite calmly, "Lady Iakana Laiexsta of the Fae Courts." Beat, "Was that seelie or unseelie, I can't remember?" To the man yelling about unfair imprisonment, he just shouts back, "I've heard that before. Don't drop the soap!"

Haggerty stretches leisurely when the excess temperature abates. He blinks and looks around with an apologetic expression. "Apologies." The Northman sighs low and looks for changes to the setting while they all descend. He reruns the previous talk through his head, greets the other folk with questions by name -before they enter the cell. The wizard averts his gaze from the group, slightly approximates freckled skin to fiery braids. There. Composed again. He ignores the canine's snort-chuckle.

Time to set boots into the incarceration unit. The mage makes a note on his scroll with the crayon which was okay to take inside. Black chalk? Something writey. Anything writey, really!

Bryn gives Thurid a nod of greeting as she heads in. A look around (which involves much more head turning, now) and she heads to the conspicuous ginger. For the moment, she is happy to just half-loom behind Carver to back her up, since she seems to have a good idea of what's up, whos who, and what she wants.

There was obvious tension on Aelwyn as he nonchalantly walks across the prison, a forced relaxedness. "Sharkie is right Hero, this one thinks the arm wrestling tournament could use a proper champion." He calls out witha flick of his head. "And the cook needs a purpose for those chickens.

The ruddy sith-makar looks towards Skyler as well, "Only hoard love, Pirate, and titles to be known by." Aelwyn says with a flash of his teeth - but then the names are suddenly said out and the draconian's expression stops; falling silent as he waits for more details to be said.

"We will never be on a first-name basis." The woman states coldly to Carver. "That would require us to be of the same station; which we will never be."

She lifts her chin at Skyler's address and frowns at him. "The Unseelie court. Though there is hardly one worth calling these days. The Queen is dead, and her replacement is not monarch enough to extend her reach to save one of her own ladies." She sneers down her nose at the lot of you. "Go away, the lot of you. I have no information to give you. I am a prisoner of a war yet to come, and I will await forever if needed the day of my freedom."

"Except you just told us there's a war coming, which is information." Skyler points out helpfully, tapping the side of his nose even as he gives the shorter sith-makar a clasp on the shoulder to remind him to breathe. He squints at the prisoner, adding, "And maybe you haven't been freed because the Queen of the Unseelie just doesn't give a rat's ass about someone that is so sloppy she got caught by us mere mortals. I bet she doesn't know anything juicy, and this is just the sidhe version of running away from home because Mommy doesn't pay enough attention to her."

Thurid nods, "I will!" she assures the Goblin. "I've been away in Isobar, dealing with a little situation there. That's actually why I've come today. I'm out of the loop." she explains to Irshya, shaking her head at the goblin's own question. She looks Sky's way, "Few that are imprisoned feel their sentence is fair, it's true. I for one would rather fight to the bitter end than end up in chains." she admits, but looks back towards the one they are interrogating. "Oh I can already tell I won't like you." she says to the woman.

And then sighs, and puts her hands on her hips, jostling the goblin on her shoulder a little but not unseating her. "But, I can't say I disagree with that sentiment. All things yearn to be free. If I had my way, there wouldn't be places like this. The accused would stand and fight out their differences in the eyes of the gods and their peers." she says. "But. It's not up to me. Unseelie, huh? Familiar with The Rook?" she asks flatly. "Ran into his posthumous handiwork lately. Not a fan. But a bit of compassion and tough love'll undo years of his meddling. So are you sure your lot are on the winning side? See me? Station don't mean much to me. Strength, companionship, compassion? Now those are important. And way I've seen it, your lot are short on all three."

"Maybe... maybe, but I have yet to come across a title that 'outclasses' an arrow." Carver says. She lets the other chime in. Other fey problems. Some names she is familiar with, some she is not. A consistent issue of lines not being respected. A slow, steady inhale. "What possible strategic value is it to interfere with the private love life between a fey and a mortal in some grand war? 'cause that sure looks like what you were doing. Not very noble work, I have to say, bein' a living codpiece."

Khepri steps aside to speak quietly with a guard. After a few minutes, the golem returns, regarding the fey prisoner with... well, it's hard to say. Khepri's faceplate shows no emotion, just that serene, frozen visage. But there's something in its tone that's just a tiny bit... snarky?

"Perhaps your queen does not care." The golem folds its arms. "After all, I wonder if it rankles you that your tool, your toy, Cerberus, has been released. Perhaps he found his way to Quelynos without you." And then Khepri twists the knife a little further. "If he is loyal, perhaps said queen will grant him your cohort's title and position..."

The Goblin makes a little squeak when she's jostled, and eyes the fae in the cage. Her frown returns, and she crosses her arms. "People in prison have no station. So it is you who is beneath us." Irshya leans forward a little, looming above, with the help of multiple feet of Jotunblooded.

The Pool Shark looks to Thurid. "That might be a valid way of uhm dealing with issues, but, well, aren't we trying to get information? Slaying this fae would not help that cause, yes? We need to figure out some leverage without having to resort to cold iron and blessed objects."

Haggerty grunts. "A proper meritocracy could solve all this humbug. Nobility through achievements which make life better and serve the spread of decency and good values. But that is not happening. Not on your whimsical home plane, anyway. We could agree to disagree, particularly when you blather words of murder and mayhem. Your words do ring of brattiness. Thankfully, none of us are your parent. Nor caretakers with signed letters responsibility. We could, though, get over the part where you pretend to be eternal and falsely superior because of nothing. Freedom is likewise that. Nothing when it is not earned. So." Everyone gets to hear the badly timed dramatic pause. "I strongly suggest you cooperate with the fine ladies and the rake here. Then, you can simmer in your self-pity all Summer long."

Aelwyn remains quiet, standing towards the side, as he gauges the conversation going on. He does briefly glance towards Irshya - looking surprisingly... unlike him. Hurt, annoyed, angry? But the expression disappears just as quickly, but then he flashes his teeth at the fae. "This one hears it is not one's mind, but the truths one once held that are devoured in this place." He rumbles. "Perhaps it is easier to barter them away now while they hold value, while they are still not the sands of time, disappearing into the wind."

Lady Laiexsta's eyes burn with ire at Skyler's dismissive words and tone. Yet she doesn't design to speak further to him. Instead her eyes fall upon Thurid her lips curling. "The Rook was a disgusting creature not fit for the fae realm. No better than his cousin who took up with *mortals*."

Haughtily she lifts her head. "Leguis'elian and Alud'rigan were both fools in their own way. The lands of faerie are better off without them and their mortal-loving." Her eyes dart to Carver and she sniffs with an unimpressed expression, but her eyes are furious. "Destroying all that is good and pure in the world is all that mortals are good for. Lady Mori’amana should have remembered that."

It's Khepri's words that truly incise however, and she's on her feet before she can even realize that her body has moved, her hands fists and her whole body trembling with barely contained emotion. "She would not DARE. Cerberus is a half-blooded *mongrel*. Lord Dorjyre was a fine upstanding full-blooded fae *lord*! I hope she is foolish enough to try and bring her own doom upon her head!" Her voice is nearly a yell at the end.

The guard frowns a bit, glancing at Khepri. "Can we try not to start a riot down here? That's the last thing we need."

"Heh, I think that got her panties in a wad." Skyler grins wolfishly at Khepri, and then eyes the fey, "Bold words coming from someone that has to shit in a bucket, Iakie." The rake grins wider as he gives her the diminutive nickname, "I bet she's already given the title away. Why shouldn't she? You're rotting here in a cell, surrounded by cold iron. Do they still serve the stale bread and beans here?" He glances around as if taking in fine accommodations, "I hear if you get lucky, you'll get a bit of fat from the ham hocks, and it'll give you something to gnaw on when you're bored."

And then he's being chided by the guard, and holds up a hand, "Peace! Peace. We're not starting a riot. I know you're just trying to do a job, but don't worry. I've met pixies that are more threatening than Iakie-poo." Beat. And he leans over to Thurid, asking, "Oooh. I just thought of something. Maybe she's jealous she isn't the one getting her back blown out. Maybe that's why she's making all this crap up about dooms and stuff... Because she's jealous she doesn't have a mortal boo-thing."

Thurid shakes her head then, "Well, I can't disagree on that first point. I have to wonder, though, how you cling to your supposed superiority." she muses, and places her hands on the bars. "Mortals put you here. If I'd the mind, I could tear these bars from the stone with my bare hands. A mere mortal could free you." she tells the fey woman. "But still you feel we're weak? Contemptible? Isn't that like admitting you're weaker still?" she asks, knowing full well she's goading. "But that's alright- my god values strength, true, but teaches that the weak are to be cared for. That to be weak is not in itself shameful, only to fail to strive to grow stronger."

She glances back to the guard, and seems to be about to say something, but remembers she is supposed to be behaving herself and so she bites her tongue. She looks back to the one they're interrogating. "As for being of mixed blood? Well, it's done me nothing but favours. I've met a few giants who thought like you did about my kind. The tusk of one adorns my hammer."

She smirks down at SKyler, and slaps him on the back (Taking care not to knock him completely over) "You might just be right about that. These sorts get so twisted up about who's worthy, they do tend to end up a bit pent up." she muses.

The Pool Shark peers at Aelwyn a moment, her head tilting slightly. "You know full well what I mean. Someone imprisoned doesn't get to lord their nobility or high station over us. Here in this prison, everyone's a prisoner. Not a lord, not a prince whatsit of the blah blah court."

Whatever else she was going to say is lost in the sudden eruption of Mount Laiexsta.

She glances at the cake wrecker. "Okay, we don't need to continue to taunt the fae. People /have/ escaped here before. And others died due to that before those escapees were captured."

"She can't obviously be that stupid to just blurt out that sort of information again..."

Khepri turns to regard the guard blankly, but then swivels back to regard Laiexsta. Then it looks at Skyler in confusion.

"Is this a common problem? I am unfamiliar with the complexities of humanoid mating, particularly in regards to cross-species or even cross-mortality interactions." At this point Kastuvas would be trying to shush it, but sadly she's not here. "Is this really considered such a serious sin, if all parties are willing?"

The Executor tilts its head. "Perhaps we could fix this by locating a suitable match for the Lady?"

"The Priestess is right. Enough bloodshed over this. I don't want to prune anymore saplings." Carver says, letting an eyebrow lift at the fiery temperament others provoked with prodding questions or, ahem, embarassing insinuations. "Oh, siddown, Little Embers. You got manuevered by that half mongrel, let me remind you. 'cause you could not fathom he could somehow possibly ever get powerful allies in these lands. Perhaps that would be a more fitting punishment. A stain on your pride. Perhaps we should release you. Escort you right back to your court very public-like with all those bejewelled friends of yours. Who I am certain will be very interested in hearing, and discussing, how a good lady could ever find herself in such an..." Pause as she looks back at Skyler, then looks back ahead. "Embarassin' position, innit?" She seems to think that all the other's may have gotten to the woman's actual weakness.

Shame amongst those she does consider her equals or betters. She does not know what to make of this arranged marriage-hostage suggestion so, she does not touch on it.

Haggerty scribbles notes on the side and upnods the wizardly hat. The Sendorian and Myrrish favorite metal undergarment line spoken by the archer woman wins a low chuckle. The living construct's comment is on the mark. Being ripped of all status and 'spot' in the Unseelie court is a very workable angle no less. He bursts forth with some anger after a strong nod to the sith man. "The planes are linked. Sapients use that for weal and woe. I gather you are on the woe side. And you are fit to fits. Get a hold of yourself, woman. Your insipid screeches are more than pain for the ear canals. Sapients can, with the right ability, conclude and grow. Even the saddest of terror warped, smoke air bent, miserable stump in the fey lands does that. You know. Grow. Not you." He gestures Skyler's way, hand gloved and struggling not to laugh. "I had similar ideas. You, you the great any mighty, you the purist.. Are only that because none every bothered but the betrothed who made a deal with you.." Speakerphone drop.

Aelwyn nods his head towards Irshya but otherwise stays quiet, giving an orange look at the guard for a moment, before he remains watching on the sides. The talk of scandalous acts? He rumbles in amusement and flicks his tail. "Probably a frustrating bang for everyone included, it would seem."

The fae woman looks at Skyler and Thurid with disgust written across her features. The mere idea of being with a mortal is so abhorrent to her that she shudders at the insinuation. The lady backs away from the cell door and bumps her knees against the bed. It is a visible reminder of the very words that Skyler states. That she is a prisoner. That she is trapped here. "If the Queen were any sort of Queen, she would not allow this." The words are muttered.

Her eyes lift in horror at Khepri's words and she backs up to actually crawl onto her own bed to get further away. "You wouldn't dare. Even mortals wouldn't stoop so low." Her eyes are full of horror now. "You can't force me to wed one of... *you*."

Her eyes dart over to Carver and she shudders again, thoughts dancing across her face but she says nothing. Offers nothing more to the woman. Instead she looks at the guard. "Make them leave. Make them go away."

"I don't work for you." The guard states idly, blinking at the fae woman. "They've a right to question you, so if you want them to leave answer their questions."

She straightens and glares at the lot of you. "I will not. This is a trick. Not even mortals would stoop that low."

"Her chin's a little weak, but she isn't *that* bad looking when she doesn't look like she has something stinky on her upper lip." Skyler comments thoughtfully to Khepri, tapping his chin consideringly, "Unless that's her face in general. Back in the Myrrish kingdoms, one of my childhood neighbors married his cousin and their kid had a cleft lip and drooled. Inbreeding does weird things to blood purists, but I'm sure if we pool our gold we can hire her someone."

He stumbles forward slightly at the slap from Thurid, and snickers. "So I guess as pious followers of the Gods, it's our duty to get her some? Well, I'm not that much of a religious man, but I do believe in charity." He glances at the guards, giving him a grin before turning back to the fey. "Whoah, there, Iakie. If you're constantly bringing up marriage, maybe that's why you can't get any takers for your mushroom ring. But I think I know someone..." He shakes his head sadly, giving the priestess a wink, "Are you allergic to Cashews?"

Carver crosses her arms, still poised on a stool. She does not interfere with the madness behind her. Let it build to a crescendo and a climax of fluttering doves and white lace, hell with it.

Khepri ponders the problem. "There is of course the question of consent. I would not condone a forced marriage. However, this still leaves us with what to -do- with her. Her scheme lies in ruins: Lord Ahu is reunited with his nereid lover. Cerberus is free, released into the custody of the Lord Archmage, who with his reputation for fair dealings with the fey has most certainly arranged passage to Quelynos. And her comrade in this endeavor is dead."

The golem intones, "In truth, what is left to fear? She is not a citizen of the city. Perhaps we should simply have her deported back to the Unseelie Courts. She may not enjoy her return, as she is so heavily laden with failure. But that is not our concern."

The Goblin makes a face at the suggested impropriety, and shakes her head slowly.

"They've got you now.", she says to the imprisoned fae. "You may as well answer our questions. Just keep this one thing in mind. Mortals are not like you. Mortals don't play the same rules you play by... we're not even playing the same game."

Irshya hops down from Thurid's shoulder, and wobble-limps to the cell wall. "Mortals have been marrying off their children since time immemoriable. We've used marriage to end wars and start them. To make profit, or to bring ruin."

"If you don't think we'd marry you off to get what we want... you've got another think coming."

Thurid shakes her head then, and sighs, "No, you're right, I was just poking the caged bear. Shame on me." she says to Carver then, and folds her arms once Irshya hops off her shoulder. "Truth be told, I mostly wanted to know more about this Rook creature, and how all this ties together. But I suppose the fey courts have as many factions and politicking as mortal ones." she admits. She nods to Khepri, "I'd be in favor of that. Handing her back to her own kind, she's been bested by mere mortals once, and knows we wouldn't think twice about doing it again." she says.

"Truth is, I can't abide the thought of her being locked up here, even rotten as she is. Even wicked creatures deserve freedom, even if that freedom comes with the promise of a boot to the face if they darken our door again."

GAME: Carver rolls knowledge/nature+4+2: (18)+16+4+2: 40

Haggerty cants his redhead, shakes it. "I would insist on a trade of prisoners, if the transplanar deportation would have to be. But. Let us stay sensical. You need to realize your high horse has been the ass you chose. For yourself, for how you perceive all of existence. You have so very much to learn. Pity the love foolish who will bother the Angorian task of showing you sense, fey whimsy or no. Get off your asinine vantage and consider, in ever so slight an increment, not only what you miss in your hardlined concept of what is right, proper, acceptable. You could be better than this. You could build a life of your own. You could determine from genuine self worth. When was the time you liberally looked into a mirror, pond, or shape of ice and did not secretly despise the ass of haughtiness lurking?"

Lady Laiexsta shakes her head over and over. Refusing to speak further on the matter. It's clear from the way her eyes dart to Khepri, and Thurid, that she's counting on cooler heads to prevail and that she won't find herself linked to some mortal that she doesn't want. Either way, it seems like she's done talking for the moment. After a few more attempts to needle her into talking, the guard will finally step in and shake his head, leading you back upstairs and to the other guards who are standing by to return your gear.

The cat by then, is long gone.