Facing Fears

[Rhodes]

The entrance to Funderland was a strange place to meet when he thought about it. Still this fellow seemed very on edge, and the presence of people may set him at ease to begin with.

The Dread Lord of Autumn emerged from the crowd, the red flowers blooming at his temples. His black suit was immaculate, with a red silk shirt and black tie. Over it all, a coat of roiling thunderclouds twists and writhes. Somehow he seems happy enough in it despite the California summer warmth.

The reason becomes clear to any Changelings that draw near - the icy breeze of the Fall Sovereign's mantle, twisting golden autumn leaves into the air.

Leaning idly against the wall, Rhodes waits for the person he expects.

Markarth Mandalore5

[Markarth]

Taking in the sight of the theme park before him, Markarth searched his vast vocabulary for the proper word or phrase to describe and give his thoughts form.

"Neat," Truly a poet who missed his calling.

The inky, scared sandhorrowed made his way through the crowd a light chilly wind following in his footsteps. His spear was wrapped up and half hidden in his bag, so it looked more like he had a massive feather sticking out of his bag then an archaic but still dangerous weapon. His messy black hair clung to his head and ink seemingly dripped from his fingers. The scars along his arms seem to undulate with the black liquid just underneath the grey of his skin. His outfit currently consisted of a light shirt, a pair of baggy khakis and a pair of sandals none of which looked new with wear and tear plainly visible. But they were clean.

It took the changeling a few minutes to spot Rhodes among the crowd, though once he caught a glimpse of the red flowers he made a beeline towards the man. He can't help but shiver as the icy wind around the man cuts right through him.

"Well, guess that's how you're not sweating to death," Markarth repressed a shiver and gave a slight bow, stopped, extended his hand half way then stopped and sighed. Finally he extended his his hand all the way, "I'm Markarth."

[Rhodes]

Well. Just look at that.

Rhodes watches as the - elemental? Darkling? It was hard to be clear - emerges out of the crowd. At least this one had the good manners to introduce themself properly. The Flowering wondered vaguely what the other would be like.

He takes the offered hand firmly but not dominantly, and chuckles, the same cold one Markarth heard over the phone. "Yes, marvellous, isnt it? Especially in California. Saves a fortune on air-conditioning." His overly large emerald eyes twinkle slightly. "Rhodes. At least here. Charmed. Always happy to greet a travelling member into the city. Please." He waves his arm into the park, and steps ahead.

"Our local enterprise has an established share in the park. Allows us simple support in menial work, places to stay, et cetera. What is it you do, Mr Markarth? And will you be staying long, or just passing through?"

[Markarth]

"Yeah the heat is gonna take some getting used to. Hate to think what those guys in the summer court have to put up with," Markarth followed Rhodes into the park.

"What do I do? Uhh...for a job? Don't really have one, I've done a few odd jobs here and there to get by. But well...just haven't been able to find one that stuck. My parents had moved out of my hometown when I got out of the hedge. There weren't many uh....like us there. I did run into an ogre though, some Monsters Inc. looking asshole who kicked my ass...man Mike Wazowski is a lot meaner in person," Markarth took a breath. "If you mean less mundane things, well...I learned a lot about magic while...while back there. I know how to craft a pledge and I'm always ready to learn more. It's the best tool we got you know? Then there's this thing," Markarth shook his bag to indicate the spear half sticking out. "It was my Keeper's quill, stole it when I was able to make a break for it, honestly...I didn't' even know I'd grabbed it till I finally stopped running. It's pretty useful, heavy despite it's looks. I have to call on a contract just to use it for now. Sorry if I'm rambling...first time I've been able to talk about it for a long while."

[Rhodes]

Rhodes clears his throat loudly, looking steely eyed. "While fascinating, would you care to save that kind of language for a more private setting?" He asks icily in a low voice, waving a hand at the mortals dotted around.

Must not be out that long.

The Dread Lord stalks - there isn't really another work for how he moves - stalks impatiently towards a looming haunted house. Pulling a key from his pocket, he pauses on the stairs, turning to face Markarth.

"I realise this is a little unnerving, and we do not know one another, so allow me to offer you some reassurance," he says in a low voice. "We swear that that we will not serve the Gentry or their agents in any way, nor will we seek to bring physical harm to each other or members of the Freehold of Sacramento. This we Vow for one moon, lest our fortunes turn against us. But while we hold true, the gift of eloquence, in word and form, will be ours. Do you agree?"

The Wyrd ripples with power, lending weight to his words.

Pledge: Vow
Task: Forbiddance (will not serve the Gentry or their agents, nor harm each other or Freehold members)
Boon: Adroitness (Expression)
Sanction: Curse (success on 9&10 only)
Duration: 1 month

[Markarth]

Markarth took a breath, ”So we swear by word and deed, I am agreed.” The elemental felt the Wyrd react to his will, well his and Rhodes. Felt that familiar slight tingle as it settled.

[Rhodes]

Rhodes smiles as he feels the ripple of power binding the two of them together. "Excellent. Now, if you'd like to step this way..."

The Dread Lord steps inside and turns left. The creaking doorway and floorboards certainly lent themselves to a Haunted House, and the dusting of autumn leaves make it clear the Ashen Sovereign is here often.

The main room holds a long, heavy wooden table and similar chairs. At the head of he table is a large carved thrown in antlers and ornate leaves. He sweeps easily up the side and drops into the chair.

"Well now! Since we have a more direct accord and we are a little more secluded, we can begin in earnest." He claps his hands together, smiling a suddenly more charming smile. "I am the Leaden Sovereign here in Sacramento. As far as this Freehold goes I tolerate Fear being used responsibly. Making them uneasy is fine; brazenly terrifying our Courtly neighbours into hostility is a good way to undo the work I have done here and I will not allow that to happen."

He waves an arm around. "This is Edna's, the site of several rather ghastly murders several decades ago and now the Haunted House of Funderland and seat of the Autumn Court. I do not actually live here, but if you need somewhere putting up, there are some spare rooms. Though not all modern, they do have Wi-Fi." A shrug. "Modern technology is a wonderful thing."

The Dread Lord idly twists a stem off at his wrist. "I think that's all the trivialities... oh! The coronation will be here... after a fashion. Here, but not. It will be a fine time to introduce yourself, if you don't bump into anyone else beforehand. The Wyrd around here has a habit of that." He smiles, a lot easier and warmer than before, almost roguishly charming. "So tell me, Markarth. You carry a quill like a spear. What exactly... are you? Your Kith has me curious. And what brings you to my city?"
He's a Fairest. Of course it is his.

[Saber Sloth]

The Wyrd ripples but falls flat, not enough effort was put forth to bend the fae magics to a sealed promise.

Remember to spend the Willpower to seal the Pledge!

[Markarth]

Markarth takes a moment to take it all in, he didn't know how 'haunted' haunted meant. But the place certainly looked the part. Now at a distance from the King his he could finally feel the cool wind around his ankles again. As opposed to the icy wind that swept around the fairest.

"Might have to take you up on that offer. Don't have a place to stay for now," Markarth unzips his bag and fully unveils the spear, he holds it with both hands down low and hefts it up. The strain on him is clear, he's not physically capable of using it without magic. "Technically I fit the description of a Sandharrowed. Despite you know...not being very sandy," The elemental lays the spear down ontop of his bag. "I spent my time in Arcadia stuffed inside an Inkwell. This quill? It was the thing my keeper kept poking and swirling me around with..." Markarth looked down at the thing and suppressed a shudder, he took a step away from it.

The young man leaned down and cupped his hands behind his head, before full on squatting and taking in a slow breath. "Ink runs in my veins, down my fingers and sometimes in my hair. As for what I'm doing here well...I'm looking for the sack of wheat and shadow that's wearing my face," Markarth stands back up and sighs, now clenching his fist. "I'm looking for the Fetch that took my place."

Shit sorry, can I spend it now? If I can I will. I just change the 4 to a 3 right? Sorry still getting used to this.

[Saber Sloth]

By either using the CtL tags, with a -1WP, but preferably with the use of the Power Icons that are found after pressing Go Advanced.