The Twice Burning Candle

[Cole Volker]

To say Cole had been peeved about his new king's appointment would have been understating things. Oh sure, he'd FELT the mantle- knew that behind it was plenty of experience. Heck, the Ogre's face had plenty to show years of time. But all Cole had seen, behind the titles, was a man who swooped in with a silver tongue and seized the throne- a man who saw his goals as childish, and who had yet to prove himself in Cole's eyes.

Was Mantle supposed to be enough? To be taken as indisputable proof? Not to Cole, no. Richard had his chance to prove himself to the Metalflesh, and he'd chosen to talk his way to a throne; no matter how sound an argument he made, this was the court of WRATH. Cole didn't join Summer for debate and tea- he needed something to channel the anger he felt, and purpose it provided.

A purpose Cole wondered if the Troll could fulfill. What fueled his wrath? Was he truly worthy to be a king, or had he burned out? And if he was king... Would he be willing to prove his worth to Cole, the way the elemental was accustomed? So he'd sent the invitation, and lie waiting at his forge, banging a glowing hammer against material of wyrdstuff.


His Hollow was on the outskirts, much like his home- a small enough space, but it was comfortable. The thorny walls surrounding the open space smoldered from time to time. In the middle was a forge, tools on tables nearby and an anvil aside. A motorcycle was... snoring... in a corner, empty fuel tanks labeled "Long Islands" surrounding it. A scythe was embedded in a stump nearby. Raw materials were piled in a small storage area.

Someone who took the time to look around might notice some things seemed rather... in need of repair. Bent or replaced table legs, dented metal, crushed table ends; someone who didn't know Cole well enough might just assume the furniture was cheaply bought, and not due to a bout of wrath.


So Cole hammered. And waited. The noises ringing around the Hollow. Would Richard Price accept the invitation?

[Richard Price]

Cole had reached out to the Monarch of the Iron Spear, and while they had their clashes it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be overcome - Rich was not about to toss the invitation away, Cole was a Crimson Courtier afterall, it was a call that had to be answered.


”You know, I am surprised he reached out this soon. Seemed like there may have been some animosity from God only knows where, but if he is really willing to get on the same page he may be a brighter flame then I thought initially.”

The Ogre dressed loudly, an orange collared shirt, with a few buttons undone on the top revealing the white shirt below and revealing the thick gold chain. It matched the dark aviators he wore with a gold trim which tucked behind his ears where the diamond studs were. The sleeves were rolled up and showed off the familiar yellow metal in Rolex form. Black slacks were ironed and deep in color and ended with a pair of popping kicks.

”Anyway, sorry for the stop before, figured I would get something to bring, it would be rude to show up empty handed. Hope it isn’t over doing it, heh.”

Eventually however, the location was found and the deep burgundy 1983 Cadillac Eldorado was put into park. The six foot eight ogre made his way out of the car, pulling a couple of brown paper bags out of the back with him.

”If you could bring in the coffee’s that would be great.”

He was alluding to the cup holder that held three to-go cups of black coffee, with the fourth being filled with sugar, creamers, and stir sticks so that people could use to make it to their liking.

”I think we are going make great progress today.”

Rich wore an optimistic smile.

Nearing the more mundane entrance of the Hollow the Monarch would hold the two bags in one arm, giving strong raps against the door to signal the smith that there was someone there. When it was either answered, or they were granted entrance to the more eccentric side by other means there they stood,

Summer King Richard Price and his right hand, Fawkes .

[Fawkes]

"Um." Fawkes fiddled with the tray, tracking where the entrance to the Hollow would be out of habit, "Is there a reason I'm here, Sir?"

Circe was decidedly not. This was not a Summer meeting. Perhaps Price wanted another Elemental around to get on Cole's level and act as some kind of mediator. This would have been smoother if him and the fire brand had a chance to talk on their own. He couldn't exactly open up about their shared experience with their King passing judgement on the alien nature of it all.

"Might want to give the Private a heads up." He doubted Cole would be intimidated by him. His relaxed demeanor rarely triggered alarms; but it was his home and Fawkes' mind was still sharp with danger-sense. The mannequin's hand hovered over his cigarette case as he bat down the urge to light up in the Sovereign's vehicle.

[Cole Volker]

Cole heard the knock- the entrance was an old farm shed his parents had used. The metalflesh didn’t expect any trouble- he had invited people after all. Still, better safe than sorry.

Scythe in hand, the elemental opened the door; his guests would no doubt feel the wave of heat from the forge, and from the summer’s wrath seeping into the horns. Upon seeing that it was his court-mates (he was surprised to see Fawkes), the metalflesh turned around and invited them in, wedging the scythe back into the stump (the only purpose of it being, based on the number of slash marks, to hold said scythe).

The metalflesh nodded to a slightly uneven table (one of the legs had been replaced with a broken weapon haft) as a place to put there things, and resumed hammering away.

[color=#“FFA500”] “aside from that tongue of yours, I’ve seen no reason why you deserve to be king. Summer’s mark is clear as day of course- but that’s a time not my own. This is the court of Wrath; why do you think you can lead it as such.” [/color]

Would this be some speech on Summer’s responsibility, and how Wrath is not always unkept fury? Was Fawkes here to create sympathy, to keep Cole from breaking glass? If that was the case, it only irritated the forgemaster further.

or perhaps he would refer to his status and refuse to answer? Yes, that would go greatly in this house.

It seemed at the moment Cole was hammering away at a scythe blade, holding the molten wyrd-material still with his own hands. Hedge-smithing was weird like that.

With every clang of the hammer, a thorn or two smoldered.

[Richard Price]

”You were home, so I figured you may want to tag along. Sounds like he wants to ask some questions you be interested in hearing the answers to too. Figured it was better than sitting inside that dark little guest house all day.”


If there were questions he would prefer to answer as many as he could now rather than just wait for them to come up casually. He would catch Circe up at the Officers meeting he was planning shortly. But that was for another time - back to the front door.

Moving into the hollow he noted the lack of greetings, a quiet form of pearl clutching.

”Cole, thank you for the invite first of all. Quite the Hallow you have managed to carve out.”

Rich pulled from the bag first a a set of heavy glass cups still in the box from one of them, and the other he pulled a larger black box and set it down on the table, make sure the structure was stable for it.

”Dalmore, aged 40 years. A damn good whisky. Brought coffee too if alcohol isn’t your thing.

An $8000 Whisky.

Then Cole went into what he had seen, that it was all talk. He didn’t want to go by Mantle alone, he needed more than the blessing of summer. The Ogre smiled and nodded. He was still standing, hands at his side with thumbs in his pockets as he paced a few steps around the table.

”Alright, well we can start in one of two places, I can talk about my time taking Tolls, serving crowns, and war - or I can talk about being black in America. Which side of the coin would you like to hear about first?”

There wasn’t a fae touched life without a mundane and both had a part to play in the formation of the the man who stood in this room as King of the Iron Spear.

[Fawkes]

Did the King just compare him to a hermit?

"Fair enough." He rests the tray on the top of the vehicle without much thought of the worth so he can light up. A farm? Fawkes chuckled softy to himself as he thought about the Hero's Journey. Maybe Richard wanted to help Cole figure out what his Elixir was. Leaving the Metalflesh to stew for a month was a smart call, but after the petulant display at the Coronation, someone had to show some maturity.

At the blacksmith launching right into a diatribe, Fawkes blew some smoke from the corner of his mouth.

"Hi Cole."

[Cole Volker]

Cole wasn't one for formality. Besides the fact that spending an eternity as a hunk of metal did little for table manners, it's not like he was formal to begin with.

Cole raised an eyebrow at the compliment. And the gift. Was this... what? A peace offering? A rich man buying something expensive for someone else?... There were other things he could've brought that didn't amount to the power of loads-a-money... Still- He could find a use for it.

"I don't drink. Henrei could use it though- I was looking for a good enough catalyst to upgrade him, and that'll do. Not a fan of coffee- it's a bit hot here anyways. Got some water in the cooler there, if ya don't want to suffer in this heat." Cole nodded to his companion motorcycle, and then to a cooler underneath the table, filled with bottled water and a few other drinks. Coffee in this heat? Besides, the forgemaster preferred to work clean- no stimulants, no depressants. Clarity of mind when handling the flames.

"Hey Fawkes. Surprised to see you here- Boss drag you along? Sorry about the noise." Cole didn't know what might set his glassy brother off, but the imagery of a fragile elemental surrounded by blunt tools and instruments meant to crush and smash probably didn't make the most comforting place- even if it was the perfect home for a metalflesh.

Their king brought up the experiences that gave him the mantle, and then his time in the states. Probably plenty there to provoke anger.
"I'd rather hear the short version. I don't doubt you worked for Summer's recognition. But all flames fade- some gloriously, others with age. I question how capable you are of exercising wrath in yours. And I worry that you won't allow us to embrace that emotion to it's fullest."

Cole had joined the court to escape his month of depression and misery upon returning from the nightmare- it had been a rough patch in his life, and had ended up turning the elemental away from booze. But embracing wrath had given the metalflesh purpose, a long-term goal for revenge, and a fire within that could burn any foe to ash. He knew how to tame that fire of course- he simply worried that this new king would be too tight with the leash.

"A silver tongue won't always win the day, especially where Summer's involved- wrath rarely conforms around social talks. If you're called to fight, I need to know you can. I need to know that when the time for pleasantries is over- when Wrath must consume- you won't question or second guess it, or try to escape it. Because if you can't?"

one more clang, the wyrd-stuff breaking in half. Another failed attempt.

"Then I don't see why you should lead us at all." Being able to stand tall against the tide with your court behind you. To fight with wrath, to carry your court with the Mantle. Their king would most assuredly be a great negotiator- but Summer wasn't always for negotiating. Cole needed to know he could do more than talk​.

[Richard Price]

”Well it is all yours, if you can find a use for it, or even collect dust you won’t hear any complaints from me.”

The Ogre was still smiles, and nodded as the multi-tasking elemental gave his run down, and it all came down to a few simple issues. Rich even nodded along with the attempted philosophy of wrath.

”So, in short you want me to thug to prove I am a leader?”

The Summer King raised his hands up, with palms facing the ground.

”This is about throwing hands to show how angry I am, pop someone in the jaw and boom I’m in the good books?’

Interesting thoughts on the matter.

”Now, I am going to be real with you Cole, I think you need to check yourself a little. Do you want a resume? Do you want me to say yeah, I’ll slap a mother fucker who thinks they can stand up and be lippy? Short answer, yes, I know how to throw hands. If that is all you want I guess everything is alright in your books.”

“But tell me, how long have you been back? A year or two? Five maybe? Ten? Twenty? Long enough to figure out that Summer is a dangerous death spiral for a lot of good young men and women who make it back because they can’t get their shit checked out? You have potential beyond being a brainless thug - I can see you doing great things, but not if all you care about is this idea that your Court is a bunch of howling, swinging savages.”

The Summer Kings voice was even, but the jovial tone was gone, and it was dead serious. The heat of the forge pushed away from him by pure force of mantle. The courtiers were fires here - the King was a volcano.

”Let me ask you the same Cole. Will you second guess your wrath? Will you swing at anyone who threatens us, even if they aren’t faceless hedge denizens? Will you be willing to commit yourself to killing another living and breathing person Lost or otherwise who risks us all? If it is Circe, or Fawkes, or Sonnie, or Seraphina, Abraham, Sasha, Rhodes, ANY OF THEM - can you say in the moment that you find they have betrayed us and are now our enemy will you wrap your hands around their throats, and squeeze until you see life itself leave them and they go limp in your hands?”

His voice was not loud, but had a rumble that could shake the earth and a steady and explosive quality that seemed hardly held back.

”I have, and I will again if it means protecting my Freehold, and those I serve, those I care about, and those I love. For the sake of us all I will not hesitate. Nor am I ignorant enough to believe everything we face is going to be a snarling beast that runs blindly into our lines.”

“If you want a gang, I’ll get you in contact with the Toll Takers. They like hitting things hard and often but they don’t have a home because decent folk don’t tolerate thuggery as a pillar if they want a decent community. And I won’t tolerate community falling to that mentality, I have already lived it once, and it brought oppression and hate and pain and death.”

The King took in a deep breath, his voice cooling for the moment, controlled with experience.

"Now what do you want from me, soldier? We are problem solvers; resolute as the high Season. No more grumbling and waiting."

[Fawkes]

Fawkes shrugged off the apology with the universal 'don't worry about it' hand gesture, puffing his cigarette as he gets a good look around the shop with genuine curiosity.

"General says I'm a shut-in," he chuckles dryly, actively signalling humour and not offense.

He never had a reason to doubt Cole was talented, and his work showed enough with his own lack of expertise and familiarity. Dropping a made-up title in defiance of his rank just told him the hunk of metal needed a self-esteem boost and be recognized.

As the mannequin examines things up close, he cuts through the bullshit and listens to both men speak. While he wasn't an expert on feelings, he knew how people ticked in a simple input-output algorithm that he often employed to his benefit. A problem with authority wasn't anything foreign to the Iron Spear, or the Lost at large. The fact that Cole ignored Richard's repeated encouragement to "Do What Ye Will" told him he was too pissed about being treated as inexperienced to register it.

Court was Court, the Mantle an Oath for ancient pact to serve. He seemed to think politics somehow sucked out the respect for his craft and need to fight, because Richard's subdued approach simply unnerved with the threat of the Unknown. Fawkes got that. Fawkes hadn't expected to switch.

It didn't take much math to see Cole was metal and had explained his affinity at the Summer Meeting. Fawkes guessed he wanted someone wielding The Weapon in the charge, and thus rejected an old General that should have gone to Valhalla several battles ago. He was in the shit. Why would an Elemental have a reason to buy into anything else?

Richard on the other hand had some bloody, beaten baggage. He wore the caskets on the ache of his shoulders. Being gun-shy about the endless parade of violence was putting him at a disadvantage, and Cole smelled the weakness like a wolf culling the sick. Pride radiated from the Sovereign: he knew it all. He had seen it all. That's what was causing the pissing contest. Circe had had nothing to prove; she knew exactly what she was the best at, and that was riddling idiots with holes while high-fiveing her Brothers in Arms. Cole had everything to prove.

Beating the man over the head with Rules he didn't understand yet was just abuse. Fawkes admired the living bike that screamed their passions with a roar into the Hedge. Sacramento was good for him.

"Okay," Fawkes said, completing his lap. He leaning against the wall of the entrance, nixing the butt of his habit into the furnace as he passed. He wasn't about to let squabbling over power plays kill what they had going.

He raises his hand, as if he were about to lead an orchestra.

"Ten words. Both of you. Figure it out."

His voice splits into layers, ringing like a finger along the edge of a wineglass.

  3 successes

Date		Action		Roll		Result
2019-04-27 09:52:48		Fawkes rolls 10 to Elements 4 (+1 for gestures and obvious voice, Catch: inspiring awe to the witnesses) (10 Again, WillPower)		8, 2, 5, 6, 3, 6, 5, 10, 1, 8, 3		3 successes

Time to remind them what they were dealing with.

[Cole Volker]

There was a reason Cole hated authority like Richard's. Hated silver tongues. He twisted Cole's words, made arguments that would go nowhere.

Every court was a spiral. Summer was just the most... Vocal... about theirs- most summers didn't go down quietly. And the way he spoke of Cole's demands, as if regarding the metalflesh as a war-hungry fiend. And as implied by his words, a thug. The entire hollow reacted to Cole's growing anger- more thorn tips started to smolder, and the forge's flame grew higher.

Would Cole be willing to kill other changelings? The answer was yes- Cole didn't shy from hard choices, even if his methods for handling them were... Rather straightforward.

It was Fawkes that snapped things back; he had a way of doing that. The grating glass voice cut through the white noise of things, and as he spoke some bits and bobs of glass seemed to roll off the tables.. Well, things were already kind of a mess. Ten words?... Cole would need a bit more.

What did Cole want? Simple.

"I want to fight you."

The Metalflesh grabbed a broken-off thorn and stuck it in the forge to heat up, along with the broken scythe blade he'd worked on prior.

"I want to beat you into the ground, and remind you that your silver tongue will be useless when the fight comes- and it ALWAYS comes; that's why Summer exists at all."

If Richard thought this thuggery, so be it- Cole knew his drives, knew what he wanted from this court. Summer would grow weak, with a hesitant king- and if Summer grew weak, so too would the metalfesh's purpose. Considering the wreck he had been prior to joining, Cole had every incentive to ensure this new king didn't fuck things up.

"And when the time of Wrath comes, I want you to shut up and sit down."
Cole could respect age. But Richard's demeanor left little for Cole to admire. Generals could be respected, but all Cole could see was persuasion. What wisdom did he carry? What lessons could he teach, that weren't veiled in silver? What could he provide that wasn't bought?

The metalflesh didn't want to just punch the king to punch the king. Cole wanted to remind him that this was Summer- and if he was to be king... There were things he'd damn well better understand. True kings fought with their soldiers- it fell to generals, strategists to keep them alive. Cole knew that much. It was one of the few things Cole didn't want to burn his former keeper to ashes for.

"sorry cousin. Needed a few more than ten- I'll keep things in check; I'm not a monster."