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(Hedge Storm) Breaking Point

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  1. #1
    Forn Clakes's Avatar


    The Amtrak rail station of Sacramento carries on its usual, daily business as the mundies of the world meander day-in, day-out without a care in the world apart from bills, love and regrets, and without the knowledge that war has broken out around them as legends are made and stories unfold. Deep within Amtrak rests a single, disused carriage that sees no use as it is surrounded by signs that state 'Keep Out!' Those fae that entered it before have found it to be longer than originally estimated, full of doors that lead to numerous Hollows for the Freehold's pleasure.

    Now, it is a place of survival and planning. Since the 4Seasons was destroyed and the Ear of Truth took the Winter Queen by force, the residents of Sacramento's Freehold have gathered at the Commons, which now resembles an underground bunker with an atmosphere heavy of fear, sorrow, wrath and despair. Indeed, it seems that desire and hope are in short supply.

    Today, the Fourteenth Day of January 2012, is different. It is the start of something new. A feeling, a buzz, whips through the Commons, through the War Room as it has been titled. The War Room itself is spacious but not so beautiful as the former throne room. It is much more bleak and utilitarian in its aspect, with a mighty circular table of wooden design, upon which is plenty of food stuffs and enough seats for all to join, and be expected to attend, the morning briefings. For one, it is to tally those that have been truly lost in this short war.

    As the fae make their way from their Hollows, some of their own design, others that have been lent in these desperate times, to the morning meeting, it is with a renewed faith in themselves and their Sovereigns, and in each other. Even as the Ear's agents get ever closer and the Freehold's champions defend what little they have, a breaking point is looming.

    Who knows what it may cost to win this war?

    Could all players participating in the Hedge-Storm plot please make their characters entrances here. All Hollows have been established to be joined through doors to the War Room, including those that are purchased by characters, which can only be accessed by those characters. All other Hollows are basic living quarters that house up to 5 changelings and should be considered very cramped.

    All changelings begin the story with full Glamour, Willpower and Health.

  2. #2
    CyledyrWyllt's Avatar


    Marcus wipes at the sweat on the back of his neck with an oily rag as he saunters into the Hollow Commons. Taking a seat, he then turns his attention to the lingering grime on his hands. The Metalflesh had obviously just been working at his forge and from the rush of warm air that follows him, the door to the War Room probably connects directly to his workshop. He sits back and makes himself comfortable as he waits for his King to arrive.

  3. #3
    skarecrow36's Avatar


    He hadn't written jokes in a long time nor had he performed at any clubs in a while either. Since Sovereign Byeli's capture, Bert had very little to be jovial about. Why wasn't he with the others when she went to negotiate? He knew deep down inside why, that he wasn't really one meant for war, but it ate at him inside, worse than when he was imprisoned in Fae and was forced to eat other humans. That was all going to change.

    He entered the Hollows with his white winter vest, sewn with tears and cynicism in honor of his Court. He saw another Lost was already there and gave him a silent nod and sat down in another chair. He eyes the food but chooses not to indulge, he's lost his appetite for the time being.

  4. #4
    Sam Barkley's Avatar

    Sam Barkley

    1
    PRE

    Torn apart by the tempest winds.

    Ripped to shreds by savage claws.

    Perforated by iron bullets.

    Drowned. In pools of our own blood. Heh. That's a good one.


    Every morning, Barkley woke, breakfasted (Cheerios cereal; the irony wasn't lost on him, either), and went over The First List. The ways they could die today.

    Infiltrated by...tentacles. Barkley shudders as he remembers the fate of Katrin. The icy bitch hadn't deserved that. No one did. A vision of himself in Katrin's place. It should have been him. He had let her down. She had trusted him. She hadn't needed to. She had anyway. And now she was gone. Just like Harry. Just like Swilla. Just like...

    That was the Second List.

    They didn't know what he was thinking. They didn't know he did this. But they knew he did something every morning as he ate, could see the tortured wheels turning, and didn't bother him. This time was sacred.

    "Ready?" she asks when he sighs, the signal that the little tree had completed his ritual. He nods. So does her lover. The three take up their arms and necessary provisions and enter the War Room, Barkley following behind.

    Sam's never been good at reading people. But he notices things. Small things, sometimes. The way their arms sway together while they walk, hand in hand. His light touch on the small of her back. The way she leaned into him ever so slightly whenever she touched his arm. The way they walk together, their steps in perfect harmony, hers, his, hers, his...the way she holds her breath when he speaks...the way his eyes linger on the smooth curves of her body...

    They didn't know that he noticed these things. He didn't understand what they meant, not individually, but when he put them all together, he knew it had to be love, as he had once had with Christina. True, deep, everlasting love. Sam kept these things to himself, for himself, in his heart of hearts. These things...his motley, the Circle of the Vernal Eclipse...made the inevitable, approaching End easy for Barkley to bear.

    For Alice and Neil, Sam would gladly suffer the First List today, that he might not count them on the Second tomorrow.

    Sam nods at the seated Metalflesh. The time for cute nicknames had passed. "Morning, Marcus," said the Doomed One, never sullying it by calling the bad good. "Been workin' all night again?"

  5. #5
    Fu's Avatar

    Fu
    Fu

    1
    PRE

    Fu stalks into the shithole.....commons bruises just fading still sweating as he goes. Training had been good, though the other guy didn't last for long. They haven't lasted for long recently, not since that night. If anyone brings up why he's got three blood stains on the right side of his neck they get a stare he's been perfecting for over a year and a half.

    Hands bloodied by foe and friend, he hasn't felt the same since the last Summer. It had to be done but that doesn't stop him from feeling bad about it. What used to be the claws of a lion have changed into something else, wicked reflections of what he bore when he first walked free of the Hedge.

    Spotting Marcus and Barkley as he enters the war room Fu makes his way over to them. Barkley's aura of doom and gloom does nothing to phase Fu, Wrath was all now, almost all.

    It was enough.

  6. #6
    Frost's Avatar


    Karma enters the war room and makes her way to a chair. She looks around at everyone here and nods a greeting. She'd never been one for a lot of words nor was she much of a morning person. The last few months had been hell. Literally.

    They'd lost a lot. People, places, hope, identity, humanity, sanity. You name it, they'd lost it. But they still tried to get up every morning and make the most of another day. They still fought on. It would come to a head soon, it had to. Most felt there wasn't anywhere left to go but down. Even though Karma isn't exactly the "we're all doomed" type, she also wasn't the most optimistic bulb in the bunch. She did believe that they would prevail though. But she also knew that it might take a lot more lives then they were willing to give.

    She has nothing but her own life to lend to the fight. So thats what she does.

    She looks down at the food and her stomach cramps with the thought of eating this early. She shakes her head slightly and settles down to wait. To plan. To fight for another day.
    If we shadows have offended
    Think but this, and all is mended......

  7. #7
    S
    Spartan

    Spartan arrived shortly after Fu, the Glyphs on his armor glowing brightly and the flames from his eyes flaring. Since fully embracing the wrath in his soul he had grown more quiet. His rage was a slow burn, unlike many of his bretheren. It was a quiet thing, until he was in the heat of battle. The Glyphs seemed to pulsate with the beat of his heart or the pace of his breathing.

    As Spartan enters he nods to the others there. Spartan looked to Sam and also nodded. Spartan was unsure if the hatchet had been buried there. In 18 months the two had spoken little, not that Spartan was the most talkative a person.

    As Spartan walked in behind him padded his Cat. It was not just a simple housepet but a Lynx with gray and brown fur with black spots. It was a good sized animal, a little larger then your average Lynx about 95 pounds but it was not heavy, just muscular. The others who have been around Spartan know this beast to be his hedge companion and that Spartan is rarely seen with out it, within reason of course. Spartan calls the beast Oracle. Around the neck of the cat is a colar that one could attach a leash too.

    Spartan takes a seat and the Cat sits loyally next to him, the cat's eyes burning with the same fire as the Son of Sparta. Spartan sets a gauntletted hand on the Cats nape and gives it a scratch.

  8. #8
    Nightfall's Avatar

    Presence
    (Quiet)
    Striking Looks
    (Bed Head)
    Goodwill
    (Spring)
    Fairest
    (Polychromatic, Treasured)
    Nightfall

    +1
    SL
    2
    PRE

    Treasured Polychromatic

    Nightfall | Dawn ●●●●


    Where once the Lord of Morning had been content to carry a simple blade, now an assault rifle was slung over a shoulder; where once a smile seemed to always be near his lips, now few saw it but his lover and his brother. Neil felt the cool fingers of Alice's entwined with his, and he made his own promise; the same one he made every time he looked at her.

    Not like Katrin.


    Not like that bitter day he failed, not like the nightmare-filled nights since.

    He knew that Sam would call it inevitable; for him, it was a reminder that Salvation requires Sacrifice, and is never guaranteed. He also knew that Sam would die for him, die for Alice, just as he would for him. One would do it just to spit in The Ear's eye; one would do it to in hope for a better tomorrow.

    One man caught on a barbed wire fence; One man, he resists.


    In happier times, it was a running joke that the 'enthusiasm' Alice and he had for one another was a daily, occasionally hourly, argument that things could change for the better. Those times slid away further into the haze of memory with each sunset, sometimes leaving the Prince of Dawn alone at night -- wondering if Katrin's sacrifice could have been avoided if he had remained and become the Onyx Thane she had asked him to be.

    Yet every morning the sun rose, and he opened his eyes to the sight of the golden-orange light setting Alice's pale skin aglow; showing him why, making a celestial promise.

    He clapped a hand on Sam's back, a silent acknowledgment of Sam's stubborness about paying homage to the morning. A joke shared between friends, a reminder that Barkley was not alone, and that he had his back -- a completion, as his hands completed their Circle with his other hand grasping Alice's ever so lightly tighter. To the others, he gave a companionable smile and nod, content to let Sam and Alice speak for them.

  9. #9
    Xerxia's Avatar

    Xerxia
    Xerxia

    3
    PRE

    Xerxia steps out of her own door, a towel around her neck to keep her ponytail from sticking to it after her workout. Her simple training room Hollow had become an excellent way to perfect her body, fighting off the beasts and briars that continuously tried to consume and control what was, and still is, hers.

    Unfortunately, as the storm kept increasing in intensity, she had less and less time to do much of anything for the Freehold, even her plans to become the Sun's Tongue, except when called to help on the search for Mr. Tickle and a few other events called by the Sovereigns. So, to some present, it might come as a surprise how much more toned her body is, let alone how it looks almost like she's gliding and not really walking.

    "Morning, everyone," the high elf says, her voice smooth like silk with a hardened undertone of one who has seen too much loss. Xerxia takes a seat next to Fu, a brother of Summer. She never did become very close to anybody in Sacramento, but she really did care about the Freehold, all the same.

  10. #10
    Premsyl's Avatar


    Since war had broken out Simon Oita had started living in one of the Hollows kept as a common housing for soldiers. This was because he had no Hollow of his own, but oddly enough Simon felt more comfortable in the cramped, barracks style living that he and his bunk-mates endured. It reminded him of his Durance, of an eternity spent sleeping in such conditions while fighting wars that would never end for the amusement of his Fae master, allowing Simon to slip easily back into the mentality of kill or be killed.

    The Wizened emerges from the portal into the Commons area. His torso is bare, revealing alabaster skin stretched over thin bones and tight musculature whats appearance belies the actual power in his lithe form. Two belts criss-cross his chest, holding two long-swords sheathed on his back. His long white hair falls down around his face, uncared for.

    Looking around the War Room Simon notices that all of the ones who had fought with him on the day that the Ear of Truth had taken the Winter Queen had emerged from their respective Hollows. He had never had very much of a rapport with any of them, or really any other Lost from Sacramento, but after what they had faced together he felt as if he'd known each of them a long time.

    Attempting to reason with the Good Folk had been a failure, as Katrin Byeli had learned better than anyone, except perhaps Big Swilla. The mass of Hobgoblins had fallen on them that day like a dark cloud, and it was only through the use of speed and might that any of them at all had lived to fight again.

    He makes his way over to where Sam, Nightfall, and Fu had gathered. He nods to them in greeting before settling down nearby, kneeling on the ground and drawing his swords. He begins meticulously inspecting, cleaning, and sharpening them - his long thin fingers moving over the metal with care and grace.

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