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It's cold in Philadelphia's Hedge today -- real fucking cold. Hope everyone bundled up for it! The wind today is bitter, as if Winter herself has a fucking grudge and wants everyone to know it. Snow scatters on the ground, the powdery stuff blowing about in the air and occasionally stinging people's faces, whipping at their eyes.
Rosalyn has An Plan, and is ready to execute it...
Spicy seems to be rather comfortable in the snow, but she's also sporting a warm winter coat from Alaska, a leather armor and some weapons. "Alright, I'm ready." The ogress declares, looking about and approaching Ros for directions. At her side is a gruff, unhappy looking Mole-like badger that moves eerily fast and looks very... pointy.
Ros was all bundled up in her hedge kit, and extra survival equipment loaded up behind Elio's saddle. She had on a grey sweatshirt over her usual dark armor as a nod to camouflage, and Elio blended in quite well with his white hide. He was standing still, eagerly scenting the wind, and Ros leaned against his flank as she checked her quiver and supplies one last time. Agate was perched in the saddle, anxious to take flight. "Alright everyone! Does everyone have their supplies? Last chance to back out."
From the Summer hollow, an Artie appears. And he is... On fire.
Quite literally.
Beneath the flames his flesh has taken on a silvery metallic sheen, a spear is in his hands and he seems ready for the hunt. Though he's got on ratty sneakers that probably would stink up the place if the flames wraleathing him were touching them.
"Alright. I'm ready if everyone else is. Just one um... Question. If we get separated and we find Buidhe, do we... Send up a flare?"
If there's one thing Sigrun just loves, it's weather like this. She's so very in her element, astride her white war horse, spear in hand, shield on the arm, gleaming helmet atop her head, concealing her no doubt braided hair. Her black leather cladded armor and giant briarwolf fur cloak really round out the look. She absolutely looks the part of a norse raider. Her saddle bags are brimming with supplies, just in case, and she's eager to be about her work.
"Rosalyn. Do you have something of his, by chance? Tracking him will be easier for me if we do."
Asbolus was truly in his element, both in the sense of the season and being on the verge of a proper hunt. The Darkling wore his leather duster and a sheathe of throwing knives at one side, pale eyes sharp and features calm. "Ready as I'll ever be."
"In your case, Mister, it'll be trying to yeet yourself upward as high as you can." Spicy comments, holding her hand close to Arthur, to see if she'd keep herself warm that way.
"We do," she confirmed to Sigrun and dug in her pack for a shirt from his hut she'd borrowed for just this sort of thing, and passed it over. "If any of you reach Buidhe before the rest of us your first priority is to remain safe. We don't know precisely what his state of mind is but it could be dangerous. Signal the rest of us if you have a way to, encourage him to return to the freehold, or just hold in place and wait for the rest of us to arrive. Your first priority is your safety, your second is the mission. We may get split apart. If you do, keep trying to navigate to Buidhe- or his last known location- or get back to the freehold. I hope we won't need to send out a search party tomorrow for anyone who hasn't made it back. You're all here because you know what the hell you're doing. None of you are novices fresh from the thorns."
Sigrun steers her horse over with her knees, briefly lodges her spear into its holster, and accepts the shirt, stuffing it into her saddle bag with one of the sleeves dangling out for easy access. She nods to Rosalyn, reclaims her spear, and steers her horse back away again. She briefly stands up in the stirrups to better settle down more comfortably, shrugs her shoulders to adjust the lay of her armor, rocks her head from side to side, and then leans to the side to spit rather indelicately down into the snow. She proceeds to ... pray, probably? In some language which sounds fairly norse and is decidedly not English, and then she's nodding back to Rosalyn, "Ready. Skade will enjoy watching this."
Artie is in fact hot, cuz his changes have made him a living forge, but also cuz the contract seems to imply its real fire.
So he grins at Spicy, and holds out a hand for her to warm with.
Then the smith nods to Ros. "I think our best bet is gonna be trying to talk him back. I think this is one of those 'he has to decide to come back' scenarios because well... If he wanted to be here, he would be. We gotta get him to tell us why he left in the first place."(edited)
Asbolus didn't have much else to add that hadn't already been said so he simply nodded, metaphorical ears perked and giving off the air of a hunting hound excitedly waiting to be let off the leash.
"That might be the best outcome, so let's hope we can pull that one off." She mentions, rubbing her hands together quick, then putting on gloves and gripping her sword hilt. "But if he's going to be hostile or refuse to return, we can figure things out from there." a shrug of her shoulder to adjust her coat. "I'm ready to follow after your people."
"Buidhe, great horned one of feathers and talons... where are you now?" she murmured, putting on an old pair of stinky running shoes and activating the Relentless Pursuit, then putting her far more practical riding boots back on and mounting up. "Alright then, do try to stay together. Let's go." She mounted up on Elio and turned him towards the Trod, sniffing at the air.
A flutter of wings, and the Hedge seems to push back on them even as -- for the first time in months -- the dark shape of what might very well be the former Autumn King flutters across the sky ahead of them... and banks hard into the Thorns.
Spicy is apparently far less comfortable is wintry condition as her mien would let anyone anticipate, she chases and chases, cutting down her path as best she can, but she's clearly behind
Artie aims his spear and is off, using it to swipe vine and thorn out of his way. An occasional vaulting leap here and there, his flames buffeted by the winds of winter but the flames of Summer endure and won't go out. He lights the way.(edited)
Rosalyn swore under her breath at the furious weather and ducked down closer to Elio's neck, urging him on through the snow. Agate was crouched on the back of the saddle behind her, trying to maintain a streamlined shape so they could keep moving swiftly. "I might need to send you up after him, Agate," she called back.
Sigrun briefly grabs hold of Buidhe's shirt, just long enough to get a bead on where the dodgy bastard happens to be at the moment. And then she's off. Just a kick of the heels at the sides of her horse, and they're galloping off into the hedge like it's some sort of prairie. She keeps her spear lowered to forge a way forward through the thorns, the radius of her cold-countering contracts and the roiling heat of her mantle heralding her coming and going as surely as a blast of horns or the baying of hounds. Once they're up to speed, she rises up off the saddle, grasps tightly with her knees, and leans forward a bit into the lashing of branches and the occasional swipe of thorns across her shield and armor.
When she bursts out into a sudden clearing and spots Buidhe flying overhead, she falls back a bit to keep pace, keeping the massive owl in sight, but not yet attempting to bring him down. Or even converse with him. No sense provoking a rogue crown, after all.
It was likely a good thing that no one among the group has been under the Queen of Mirror's 'gentle' care, as the way that Asbolus stalked through the Hedge would have likely brought up some Very Uncomfortable Memories. It was slow, methodical, and even though he ended up at the rear of the pack due to the Hedge's machinations there was no sign of discomfort on his face by being left alone. He knew where his target was, after all, and that was the important thing.
Once she's caught up to Buidhe, Sigrun lifts the hunting horn from her saddle, puts it to her lips, and lets blare a rising two tone call that has three segments to it, the third longer than the other two. BrrrRRRRT! BrrRRRRT! BrrrrrrRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRT! That's a pretty clear indication to those attempting to reach Buidhe as to where he might be found.
And then the tailor threads his giant needle through the threads of the hedge and he's right under his target, who is a giant owl.
Sparkling gold eyes zero in on those silent wingbeats. Artie won't lose him again.
The call of the horns and his own unerring sense of the former monarch's position helped to guide Asbolus to where the others were, looking none the worse for wear despite trailing behind the lot for most of the journey there.
Spicy heads that way slowly, battered by wind and cold, her teeth clacking as she nears the situation
Rosalyn stared up at Buidhe and then offered Agate her arm. "Don't attack him. He's going to be bigger and stronger than you. Just please convey our request to speak with him."
Then she braced against Elio as Agate launched off with a powerful flap of her wings.
Artie slows a bit as he regards Buidhe-Owl with serious scrutiny.
"Guys... Be careful. He's starving. Probably really frail right now. I think he's... Either very stressed out or has... Like worms or something. He's not doing ok at all..." He points out while sliding his bag around to rifle around for some food for the monarch.
"Look at his feathers. And his body. So skinny."(edited)
"Fuck snow, fuck winter, fuck ice." Spicy rant, emerging from the chase with a harsh stare, also just in time to see the big ass owl fall out of the sky. She tries to get closer to catch it, if no one else gets to it at first.
After sounding her horn, Sigrun tosses it back to dangle from her saddle and rises up in the stirrups once again, gathering her Wyrd about her in a swirl of heat and light. It's a bit like Galadriel refusing the One Ring, really. In Buidhe's senses, she grows terrible and beautiful all at the same time. The wind tears at her cloak and the loose trailing braids from the back of her helmet, the light she emits, the light the fires swirling about her emit, they all clash bright and baleful with the darkness, the wind, and the cold. The snows about her shimmer and shine in an arc of rainbow light thrown off of her by all the snow turning to mist about her. Her own personal Bifrost bearing her inexorably down on Buidhe.
"Land, Buidhe! By the will of the Crown of Shackamaxon, you will land and stop this nonsense!"
They can all see the second that Sigrun's contract hits. Buidhe flies effortlessly, as if he was born to it, rather than being tortured into shape by one of the Fae.
He flies effortlessly, until he doesn't. The massive white-and-grey owl with his honey-colored accents, made to blend into Autumn forests, flaps once rapidly, as if terrified, and then simply stops moving.
Raptors are, thankfully, made to glide, so he begins to descend slowly, but then the wind buffets him, and he begins to tumble out of the sky...
It was fortunate that Agate was already in the sky as Buidhe began to tumble out of the sky. She shrieked in fear for him and dove as the great owl passed, managing to snatch him by the ankle. She wasn't fully grown yet. She wasn't a mount, strong enough to carry a full grown human- or giant owl, but she was enough to slow him down with frantic beats of her wings and guide them towards a pile of snow that they plowed into. Ros practically flew herself as she dismounted and ran towards them.
"Curious..." Asbolus replied quietly to Artie's comment, keeping a close eye on the circling Buidhe as Agate rose up to meet him. He blinked as Sigrun's call worked surprisingly well, following behind Rosalyn to offer what assistance he could.
"I'll try communicating with him." Spicy beats her chest in an accelerated manner until it reach a certain point and then poof there's a foot-ball ish sized bird, chunky, making the same kind of wing beating sound as Spicy was doing as she hops into the snow, approaching the former Autumn Crown. Are you in pain?
Artie joins the others, several diffeent foodstuffs in his hand as he crouches down beside the owl.
"Hey Buidhe..." The page whispers softly, "please stay calm. We're here to help you. I brought food, see? Just... Let us help you please."
Sigrun does not dismount as the others do. She remains very much on her guard, readies her spear, and props it onto her shoulder for the moment, steering Frygg around behind those approaching Buidhe more closely. Prepared to intercede in the defense of those closing in to try and talk sense into the man.
Buidhe just, like... lays there. In the snow. Staring off into the near distance. If he understand Spicy, he does not give any indication. Overwhelmed because Sigrun is beautiful and terrible as the dawn, etc. etc.
Ros pulled a blanket out of her packs, then Elio turned around and stood near Frygg, standing guard with her. She gently reached in to wrap the blanket around him, securing his wings the way she would with any potentially injured bird. "Let's get him warm and home. The Springs can do more for his mental state than we can."
"Mmm... Not yet. We gotta talk to him first. Find out what's wrong if we can. What if it's contagious and he fled to protect the freehold? We can take a little time. Can't we?" Artie asks looking around the band.
"Sigrun? Can you... Let his brain go? Please?"
Observant Darkling is observant, keeping an eye on the nearby Hedge in case something decided to take advantage of their focus on the now-bundled-up former Monarch.
The Ruffed grouse flutter up and keeps up with the former monarch to stay close to the owl, trying to get him to respond, get to understand more of his emotional well being or somesuch
"I cannot. Nor am I particularly inclined to do so if I could. Buidhe's a Regent, and you don't become a Regent without knowing enough tricks to drop any or all of us should I decide to do so." Sigrun then ticks her chin over towards Rosalyn, "If you give him a good slap across the cheek, that should bring him out of it. But it also might prompt him to rip your stomach out. So you can see my conundrum. Safest bet is to get him back home again and sort it out from there. We're lucky we caught him, and luckier still we're getting him back home without blood on the snow."
Rosalyn nodded reluctantly. "I don't want to harm him, even with just a slap. He doesn't deserve that. Forcing him back is not ideal either, but what else can I do? If he really wants to leave again after he's healed, that's his right."
"I'll take him, if you wish." Asbolus said, looking over Buidhe. "We're bringing him back against his current will, and I'll willing to carry that burden so none of you have to."
"Can... Anyone sense his uh... Whata we call it. Clarity?" The smith asks? If nothing else, he was thorough and persistent.
"Personally I'd rather speak to him. Cuz if this were me, that's how I'd want to be treated." The smith admits.
Spicy bird settles near the former monarch and as best she can, spread her wing to shield the bird protectively, making some noise vaguely in other people's direction, trying to communicate.
"It's my responsibility," Rosalyn told Asbolus seriously. "Besides, I have Elio to help with the physical lifting. I would rather speak with him too, but he may be suffering some sort of Clairity break or something too. He was a monarch and he just left without a word to anyone. It's dangerous and we're sitting out here in the middle of the Hedge. Let's go home and sort it out properly and safely for everyone. - We don't speak bird," she reminded Spicy.
Buidhe just lays there in the snow, looking sort of small and pathetic now that he's on the ground. Owls are actually quite thin and light, which is part of what makes them such fantastic predators. But he's very thin, even for an owl, and it's possible to see where he's been pulling his feathers, as Artie pointed out.
"The woman who can turn into an elephant says no smacking Buidhe. I think. No smacking Buidhe, or no taking Buidhe back to the Freheold, Spicybirb?" Sigrun eases off on her spear, now that it's clear Buidhe's landing hasn't shaken him out of his fugue state. She's not precisely relaxed, but she's no longer viewing Buidhe as quite the threat she had been even moments ago.
"As you wish." Asbolus nodded to Rosalyn, letting the Mirror handle the matter as she saw fit. He then looked towards Spicy as Sig tried to translate for her.
Rosalyn reminding her of no bird speak seems to cause Spicy to realize the concept of communication and instead of remaining a bird, she, gently, picks up the bird and looks to Ellio. "He's been plucking at every feather but the flight ones, he's not feeling safe anywhere, at all. It's pretty dire." a blink at Ellio. "I don't know that Ellio speaks safety."
Elio shook his head. He couldn't speak. Agate chirped out a "I can talk though! Says- and then repeated Spicy's words for them all in human speech. Rosalyn nodded. "Right then. If I weren't feeling safe anywhere then I hope that my friends and freehold would keep me safe even when I wasn't sure myself. Elio, can you get down low so I can mount while holding him?" Elio let out a wuffling sigh that this would certainly ruin his reputation but did as requested, and Rosalyn moved to carefully and gently pick up their emeritus monarch and climb onto Elio's back with him.
Artie stops moving and inhales sharply. "Guys!.... Where's Buidhe's mantle? Isn't there... Like... A problem that makes this happen?" The summer asks, pointing out that the former Autumnal King seems mantle-less.
Sigrun settles his her spear back into its holster and hops up into the stirrups again to bounce out of the saddle. The giant fur cloak she's wearing is more ornamentation than practical, what with her mantle and contracts up and running. She unclasps the trefoil clasp at her neck and swings the cloak off her back, offering it over to Spicy with an uptick of her chin, "Here. Wrap him up in that before he catches his death of cold. We need to get his body temp up. He's been dragging around a ton of Goblin Debt, so it's no wonder he doesn't feel safe anywhere. The poor guy's got guys coming for his kneecaps around every corner, there." Once she passes the cloak off, she looks to Rosalyn, "If we keep him out here for too much longer, this is going to be a moot discussion. He's in early stage hypothermia."
"Let's press on, then." Asbolus took a moment to dust himself off before readying to follow the others, keeping an eye on the surrounding thorns.
She wraps the cloak around the bird, carefully and moves around, to keep watch on the autumnal former monarch. "Hmm."
As the others seem to consider his words, the Wizened looks to the autumn guiding them on this quest and his mantle seems to expand to, for just a second, encompass Rosalyn, the wavering heat carressing her, freshly mown grass filling the air and the wail of cicadas rings in the thick of the thorns.(edited)
"Goblin debts maybe?" Spicy comments, tilting her head to the side, in a low whisper.
Rosalyn exhaled and gave Artie a grateful smile. "He's a goblin king or hob of some sort now, I think. I don't know how to deal with that, but his clarity is suffering too I think. But we can't afford to hem and haw here in the Hedge. We're going home. Now."(edited)
"We might need to help him clear it somehow." Spicy seems ready to go for the trip back
Arthur nods agreeing with this goblin debt theory. "I'm not as hedge-learned that way as Autumns but sounds right based on what I do know. Guess... We'll need more people to bang their heads together on this."
"For now... You guys are right. Lets... Let's head home but..." He looks to Buidhe. "Maybe we should let him go for now. He's of the Hedge until we have a way to fix this. Is it right to take him from the Thorns? Like what will we do if we take him back? We can't lock him up..."
"Our mounts. Our hedgebeasts. They might be able to buy the debt off him. Either way, the bad news gets worse. He's wanted by the Asbury Park marketeers. He passed on a bad debt at Market without telling them about it. Caused a whole big thing. And the Freehold agreed to bring him there for judgment. Or at least some of its members did. So not only do we have to buy off his goblin debt, he's got debt debt to deal with, too." Sigrun steps back to her horse and climbs back into the saddle again, swinging a leg over more easily for lack of a cloak. "Poor guy's got a bad penny under his tongue."
"You don't have to take him," Rosalyn said acidly. "I am taking him to the Autumn hollow. His home, where he's safe. We knew there was a possibility he was suffering from too much goblin debt and the solution is not to just fucking leave him to deal on his own when he's sick, cold, and suffering."
"Sounds like it." Asbolus replied to Sigrun, shaking his head before eyeing Rosalyn and Artie at the rather sharp exchange occurring between the pair, an eyebrow quirked up in an 'everything alright here?' sort of fashion.
Artie looks at his sister for a long moment, reading her body language. "... Alright then. We'll bring him home. No member of the freehold will be left to suffer alone on my watch."
And with that, he adjusts his bag on his back and dowses with his spear, stopping to point in a direction. "Home's that way."(edited)
"Letting him go is ... pretty damn bad for everyone including him, if you ask me." Spicy says "Like, now we can help him out of this situation."
She nodded, holding the Buidhe as gently as she could as Elio turned down the trod to the freehold.
Sigrun turns her horse about and trails along after Elio and Rosalyn, "Let's get a move on, then. We'll want to get back to a Trod before this storm gets its teeth into us."
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