(House Call) The Cat Returns

[Yumyumcrow]

"Yes! A human of great inspiration and creativity. She was Pledged to me and I to her. She had the liberal arts inscribed on her soul and together we made great music. Ah! Those were the days! We, bonded in romantic companionship, and our merry band of confederates! But now all gone! Alas! and her last ember has gone out, too!"

The cat paused, as much for effect as for breath.

"Help! Help? Oh yes. You can help. You all can help. For now that my pledged lady has past I have to reclaim the locket upon which our Pledge was sworn. It was her token of me. And she held it close to her heart. But now. Now! Now she lies in state, her house a fortress that her children have barred against me. And I may not enter. You! You must get it for me - our locket! They will not be able to stand against your combined might."

The cat blinked at Brigid's question. "Well to me she was Strawberry Marzipan My Lady Peace. I suppose she had a silly human name. I recall some in our merry band called her Sheryl. Or... Groupie. Her home is near here. That is why I paused along my path when I felt the call of nature."

The cat sat, pure innocence, in the ruins of the trash.

While the Hedge Beast pantomimes and performs, the little mole man is deep in thought. Yes! There is something to the Sacred Board and Golden Cup. Not an entitlement - no, that would be the Knights of the Knowledge of the Tongue - but an associated group, a whimsy, a deadly serious alliance of hobs and hedge beasts, a mockery, a pact forged by Spring Courtiers long ago.

[Mhairi Ankaa]

"She sounds lovelier then fresh hope twined with nectar's excess." says the Autumn's Queen drawing on her hedgespinning for the words. Even as her mind stalls at 'romantic companionship'.

"We would be happy to help you regain your token to her." and it would let them see just what sort of people were involved with the tom-cat. "Your lady's home...how near here? Do you know the address? We need to know the exact location so we can get your token back."

[Circe]

The kitty, um, hobgoblin wanted them to steal a necklace? That might be easier when she was in the ground, depending upon how many relatives are there. Circe paused, why should they take this risk? Good relations with a kitty, uh, hobgoblin is nice but the risk was high for mortal trouble. "She couldn't have just left it to you in a will, kitty? Of course not," Circe sighed, "As the Boss said," she nods her head towards Mhairi, "we'll need more details. Like how many children are we talking about? Adults or kids? How secure is the building?"


Circe then turned to look at the Manager, "You know, I was gonna ask you what policy was on," she waves her hand to the tom cat, "helping hobs might be. But," she grins, "guess I don't need to ask save for one thing," she tugs on her jumpsuit, "should I change into street clothes first?"

[Thomas Land]

The others are eager to help, which is quite nice really. But Thomas is suspended between fading suspicion and growing curiosity. So, while his companions make offers of assistance and ask after the details of the Cat's dilemma, the Mole-Man finds himself wondering about other things.

"Hm-hmmmm," he hums. "And your name, Sir Cat? Yes, you must have a name yourself?" It's a simple question, but important. Names are powerful. The exchange of names is a ritual of trust and a mutual form of indebtedness.

"And, hm, if you don't mind me asking: however did a human find her way into such august company as the Sacred Board and Golden Cup?" Something in the Mole-Man's tone hints at a familiarity with the group. Thomas's beady eyes glitter behind his spectacles, never leaving their new 'friend.' "I do not mean, no most certainly not, to insinuate that your, hm, Strawberry Marzipan was in any way unworthy. No--no, I am sure she was more than lovely. But you must admit, yes, that such an association, for a human, is--hm--unusual, yes?"

With that, the little man subsides, watching the Cat, trying to read its reactions. Though he can't seem to get a bead on the emotions of this alien creature.

  failure

Date		Action		Roll		Result
2017-06-08 19:44:59		Thomas Land rolls 4 to Cat Feels? Wits2 + Empathy2 (10 Again)		5, 5, 5, 7		failure

[Yumyumcrow]

Feline eyes calmly watch the group as they emerge. For a cat, its face is uncannily human in its ability to express emotion. Right now its got a cheshire grin and a twinkle in its eye.

"Oh one supposes one must stay here until the Quest is completed," the cat mused theatrically. "There a few Doors hereabouts but they hard to reach and... uncomfortable."

Those feline eyes nestled on Circe. "She had many children. Less now than in times before. But they have locked the doors and barred the gates and I cannot enter." The cat repeated, somewhat fiercely.

The cat pointed to the east, beyond the Golf Course. "She lived yonder. Beyond the tiny forest and grassland, where a house forest grows. You will find her house there. Where the road curves. Her home is well sited; the uninitiated miss it quite entirely. You will know it by the red door and the many trees that guard it; you will know it by the dead pool that lies out the back. As you say. You will know it by the Grand Tour Bus that sits at the gates but is asleep. I could not rouse her, I fear."

The cat drew itself up, affronted.

"And you will know it by The-People-Next-Door and their horrible little people! Who thew things at me! And chased me! Urgh!"

Still posed, the cat's eyes slunk across to the Mole Man. Stealth and stealthy could be.

"I do not share my name with mere mortals. But one supposes one must relent when in extremis. You may call me Hulumere Wibble, Meister." The cat sighed. "We were introduced. The Courtiers of Spring were much interesting in those days... Ah! How they cast of the shackles and led the young people! How they challenged the power of the Crimson and declared a Summer of Love! And the Gates were flung open wide. It was a great time. And in that time I met the merry band and they introduced me to Her! Such wonder!"

The cat abruptly ended his speech and began licking his paw.

"One supposes I could lead you to her house." Hulumere Wibble sniffed.

[Mhairi Ankaa]

It seems that Thomas gained something out of the tom-cat's words that flew passed Mhairi's head. When they had a moment, she'd have to ask the mole-man about it.

"Those fiends!" Mhairi cries out. "To bar your from your lady's home!" Mhairi shakes her head. "And those people next door...do they not know who you are?" playing to the cat's pride seemed to be a good idea.

Mhairi lets out a sigh, while she clicks her tongue.

Summer of Love? Well that definitely puts things into perspective.

"We would welcome you as our guide," Mhairi nods, it would be better then to try and puzzle out his directions. "We would be remiss to say nay to your august presence."

[Circe]

Summer of love? Oh she got a important insight: "Well, our opposition's mama was a flower child. That explains a, uh, bit," Circe laughed. Talking cat would be the cause for freakout, or asking for a magical wand, for most mortals. But a hippy in the 1960s? That was probably a regular Monday.

Since there was no objection to her attire, she didn't have any Funderland logo on it, she guessed it was okay. Circe was honestly affronted that people would throw things at a kitty, uh, hobgoblin. Her ears folded in to be flush beside her head as she snarled, "What kind of assholes live next door?! Who would throw things at such a cute, uh," she looked down at Hulumere, "that is at such a magnificent being as you Sir Wibble? That kind of thing should not stand." Circe wouldn't even sell guns, regardless of price, to people that shot cute little animals for fun. Food okay, fun no.

It took Circe a moment to calm down from her outrage. Thankfully someone wiser was handling things better. She was guessing the the dead pool the kitty mentioned was a cholrinated pool and not a little dumping pond for corpses. Or Ryan Renolds. The Summer thug shrugged, "Meh, I'll leave thinking to others. Lead on those that will."

[Thomas Land]

Thomas removes his spectacles and rubs the bridge of his Mole's nose with his clawed fingers, thinking. There's a lot he feels they are missing here. And he's not sure if that's by design on the part of this creature, or if it's a function of its strange speech. Either way, it makes him nervous.

So many unknowns. Was this Strawberry Marzipan an ensorcelled human or was she a fellow Changeling? Was this Summer of Love a power struggle between Spring and Summer? Had it happened here, in Sacramento, or elsewhere? To have the 'gates thrown wide open'--was it truly so great? Or only for creatures like this one?

Still, the rest of his cohort seems eager to help. And Thomas can't deny his own curiosity. So, tending his own doubt and fear like a fire in his chest, he places his spectacles back in their place and looks at the hobgoblin: "Well, Hulumere Wibble, it is a fine thing to meet you. And Yes--yes, certainly. As my friends, hm, have said. We would be happy to--yes--help you in your quest."