How a Queen is Made

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Log Info

  • Title: How a Queen is Made
  • GM: Aftershock
  • Place: Ravenstongue and Telamon's house / Leca'fi Amdamu

It's far too beautiful of an autumn morning for the flurry of activity that is happening in the Lupecyll-Atlon house. What is the use of a blue sky with nary a cloud in sight and the turning colors of leaves if there's pixies screaming and chittering at each other?

"I can't leave all of my unpublished Crimson Pen stories behind!" Lily-of-the-Valley screeches, her tiny hands in her blonde hair as she's frantically flying about in no particular direction. "What if we never come back, Mirabilis?! All of that effort! Nights upon nights of toil, sweat, and tears! All for NOTHING!"

Mirabilis, meanwhile, is packing tiny bags with tiny clothes, using the table where Pothy normally takes his snacks for the sturdy nature of it. "Please, Lily," she requests gently. "Keep your voice down. I don't want to disturb our lady and lord's peace as much as we already are."

This causes Lily-of-the-Valley to do the exact opposite and sob violently. Naturally, this causes Cor'lana to come investigating from the kitchen, where she'd been working on cooking brunch (the archmages like to sleep in on weekends). "Lily? Mirabilis? What's wrong?"

Mirabilis looks up at Cor'lana gravely. "I'm sorry, milady. Our queen, Her Majesty the Queen Niceven, has sent warning. It is no longer safe for myself and Lily-of-the-Valley to remain here. There is a clear and present danger."

The words stun Cor'lana, but only momentarily. She closes her eyes and says, and thinks, "Telamon." It's not a summoning spell, but it might as well be. (This has to do with the Queen of Air and Darkness. I just know it,) Cor'lana thinks.

Telamon had been out of the house. Of course, even with the ban on teleportation within the city limits, a sorcerer can muster speed when he needs it.

He's pretty sure someone will complain later. But when his wife calls he doesn't much care. Swiftly, a streak of motion -- flight, augmented by haste -- flashes down in the backyard, resolving into Telamon landing on the turf in a three-point stance, the air still shuddering around him. A crackle, as magical energy disperses and flickers around him, and he straightens up. Twitching his silk tunic to make sure it's straight, before walking inside.

"What on Ea is going on?" Telamon's eyes move from Cor'lana, to where the pixies are... packing? "Lily, Mirabilis? What are you doing?" He rakes a hand back through his hair, and glances to Lana again. "You thought it had to do with the Queen?" His expression tightens.

"We've been instructed to leave by Queen Niceven," Mirabilis repeats for Telamon's benefit, finishing up with the packing of bags as Lily-of-the-Valley has turned to violently sobbing on the table. Mirabilis walks over to Lily, bags packed and hefted onto her shoulders by tiny straps, and she practically scrapes the tiny wailing pixie off of the table. "She said there is a clear and present danger here, and as loosely affiliated members of her Court, she wanted our safety."

"M-M-M-Muh sh-sh-sh-shtooooriiiiiiesh," Lily-of-the-Valley sobs, her command of Tradespeak turning to mush with the violent combination of tears and snot that comes with heavy tears.

"Hush now, Lily. We must go." Mirabilis looks pointedly at both the sorcerers. "Please stay safe, Lady and Lord Lupecyll-Atlon. This place is a fond one for us both, but places remain. People... Do not always."

With that, the pixies fly out an open window, and Cor'lana looks at Telamon. "We're preparing for war," she says bluntly, already headed upstairs to the bedroom to get her adventuring robes on--and to fetch Pothy from his sleeping post in the bedroom. "Brunch will have to wait," Cor'lana calls as she heads up the stairs.

As if to punctuate this particular thought, there is a firm but polite knock on the front door.

The only thing Tel knows how to do is to try and make things a little easier. "I'll keep them safe, Lily," he tells the little pixie. Yes, they may be awful, but they're hers. Although Telamon mentally winces at the prospect. "We will," he tells Mirabilis. "And one day you'll come back."

Once they're gone, Telamon's face turns hard. "It appears so," he replies to Lana, starting to follow her upstairs. "Get my haversack, would you?" The sorcerer is already partially clad in the tools of his trade, but there's a few things he still needs. And then there's a knock.

Telamon's fingers curl slightly, as he approaches the door... then moves to the window, peering out of it at who might be on their porch.

As Telamon's waiting on his wife to finish changing and retrieving the haversack, there's two figures standing on the front porch. One of them, of course, Telamon recognizes very well. It's Auranar, beloved sister, looking grim and determined. The other is... Faphinae Cari'thana. His father's sometimes rival and sometimes 'work associate' from a past era, mother of the Warden of Gilead that Telamon has been working with regarding the matter of mages, stands behind Auranar, her hair pulled up into a bun and a rapier dangling from the weapon belt atop the glamorous black dress with raven feathers that she's wearing today. (Although that describes most of Faphinae's wardrobe.)

Cor'lana returns downstairs, dressed for war and with Pothy on her shoulder. She holds out the haversack to Telamon. "I told Pothy what's happening," she says.

"I can't believe we're missing brunch," Pothy mutters sadly. There's more to that sorrowful voice, but missing out on food is a great crime.

Telamon hmms. "It's Auranar, and..." He pauses, his expression quizzical. "An old acquaintance." What he doesn't say floats through his head: Why is she here?

But Telamon is nothing if not a gracious host, and he opens the door. "Auranar... Lady Faphinae," he bows politely. "We're in the middle of something, so I hope this isn't just a social call." He does, however, invite them in.

Once they step inside, he takes his haversack from Lana, fishing out a couple things and hanging them from his belt. Studying Auranar, he continues, "I suspect it's not a social call though."

Auranar spots Telamon looking out the window and waves to him, not bothering to knock on the door again. She looks very determined indeed. She even has her bow on her back which usually means that she is ready for some kind of fight. The quiver strapped to her thigh where she can quickly and easily draw one of her cold iron arrows if she needs to. She waits semi-patiently for the door to open.

She steps inside as she's invited, and shakes her head firmly at Telamon's question, pink curls bouncing with the motion. "Not a social call at all. But you all look ready for war... I suppose it's meant to be." She looks over at the woman she'd brought with her. "Why don't you tell us what's going on here first. It seems important."

Lady Faphinae, as she's been introduced by Telamon, smiles in her usual fashion as she's addressed: the unsettling way. Her smile rises just a little too high to be comfortable. The soft glow that comes from her silver eyes suggests, like Cor'lana and Telamon, she's had some magic effects etched permanently onto her.

When the door shuts behind them, Cor'lana begins with the situation, prying her eyes away from Faphinae (Telamon can feel in the mental link that she is a bit discomforted by something in Faphinae's appearance) to look at Auranar. "Mirabilis and Lily-of-the-Valley, our garden pixies, just left. The Wee Queen recalled them away to safety. Apparently, it is believed remaining here... with us... is a 'clear and present danger', to use Mirabilis's words."

"I believe that quite firmly," Lady Faphinae says. Her voice is a low purr, her eyes widening a little with a sort of zeal as she begins to talk. "After all, the proposal that Auranar and I have for you both today is a bit dangerous in of itself." Here she looks at Telamon and Cor'lana. "Is this house shielded from prying eyes?"

To that end, Cor'lana pulls a scroll out of her own bag, quietly reciting the contents and making use of the magic in her robes. The windows of the house darken, and Lady Faphinae smiles wider (in that unsettling fashion again). "Excellent."

She looks at Auranar. "Shall we?"

After Lana wards the house, Telamon remarks sardonically, "It can't be any worse than the proposal I had... which was to grab Captain Doyle and squeeze him for as much information as I could regarding the Queen and her interactions with the fiend Koz'gon."

The half-elf sighs, squaring his shoulders. "It goes against my own inclinations, but I cannot abide what has been done -- to Alexandria, and to my family. The Queen is most certainly up to her ears in it -- that I am certain of." He scowls. "The question, though, is why? What does she get out of this, out of allying with a fiend?"

"I don't know." Auranar answers Telamon with a serious expression. "I think that there are things that we need to know before we can risk enacting Lady Faphinae's plan. I think it starts with questioning Captain Doyle. We need inside information about what's going on in the court and we need it sooner rather than later." She nods her head. "But in the spirit of full transparency... Lady Faphinae does have a plan, one that might work, and you should know what it is."

Faphinae regards Telamon and Cor'lana both. "For centuries, I served Her Majesty the Queen of Air and Darkness as one of her rare mortal servants. I killed at her command. I did all that she commanded of me. I am very familiar with her cruelty. Yet, when I met my husband... I decided to do away with that life, and I left the Court in good terms to live in the mortal plane instead. However, the Queen is a wicked woman. When I asked her for a favor, as repayment for my years of service to her, to heal my beloved boy, Corey, as a child... She did."

Then Faphinae's face twists into an expression of sheer and utter rage that has even Cor'lana taking an unconscious step back. "Then she sent an assassin after him. That assassin has not killed him, and in fact, refuses to do so. But I know that she has tried, and that is enough for me to take action. I have had enough of her. Not to mention the rumors I have heard of her interfering far more with mortals as of late than she's ever had interest in previously... I believe she is going mad."

She strikes the floor with her heel, clicking it loudly. "I will lay my ambition bare. I will overthrow the Queen of Air and Darkness. She is a tyrant, an evil and wicked soul who took me as a young woman, lost and alone in the world, and molded me into her weapon, and while I served her faithfully in that capacity... I cannot stand by and let her step on mortal people who do not deserve her cruelty. I cannot stand by and let her continue to harass my family. I cannot stand by and let her continue to besmirch all that I worked for in the Court by seemingly allying with fiends and letting her grow gluttonous on her rewards. It is time for the Queen to fall. I will take her place as a kinder and more gentle ruler, one with compassion for mortals--one who will not use her powers to oppress but to uplift."

Cor'lana's breath is stolen from her as she listens to Faphinae. "This is..." She searches for the words for a long moment. "That's insane. But..."

She looks at Telamon, and her eyes shine a little. "I think I like this idea," she confesses.

Telamon listens, but his eyes widen at Faphinae's history. Did father know, back then? Perhaps, but it wouldn't have stopped him. That was Telperius for you. And it's true of Telamon now. The half-sil sorcerer furrows his brow at the mention of Corey, and the assassin... he tilts his head, a vague expression of curiosity appearing there. A thought, as it were. But he doesn't voice it yet.

The prospect of Lady Faphinae seizing the throne of the Unseelie is... ambitious. Mad, even. But... someone must deal with it. Perhaps this is for the best. "Lady Faphinae," he begins carefully. "That is... a bold strategy, to say the least. Which is not to say I disapprove of it." He purses his lips. "The assassin you mentioned. This wouldn't happen to be the same one currently accompanying Corey around town, would it? Which... raises some interesting questions, about the Queen, her fiendish connections, and one Akimitsu Sori."

Auranar doesn't know much about this which Telamon brings up, so she keeps her peace, knowing from experience that she'll learn more through silence than through questions. She can always ask later. Still, her hands vibrate with the intensity of the plan, the boldness of it. She needs that now. Something bold and decisive.

"The one and the same," Faphinae replies to Telamon with a nod. "Karasu was supposed to kill my son. They spent time together, however--in my own household, for that matter. I saw them falling for each other as the days went by." Here that smile returns, but this one is softer, more fond--not nearly as unsettling as it usually is. Until she speaks again, then it falls away. "It has not escaped my notice that Akimitsu Sori is also connected to fiends. Everything is interconnected. I believe our true enemy is her: the threads to which everything connect. And even if she is now the pawn of some fiend, she is still a Queen: the most powerful piece on the board in a game of chess."

Cor'lana looks at Auranar then. "Do you support her?" she asks. Nothing means more in the world to Cor'lana than her sister--her beautiful, intelligent, and wonderful sister, who killed the Corpse-Eater, who stands tallest of them all. "Because if you do... I'm in. Even if I have no idea how a mortal elf woman can become a fae queen."

Connections, not coincidences. Telamon's eyes narrow, the starlight within glowing. "I almost feel like I need a corkboard. One of those ones with foolscap notes, stickpins, and lots of string to mark out the relationships." He snorts. "Father always warned me there would be times when the complexities would be so bad, you'd need a handbill to keep track."

He moves over to take Auranar's hand. "However you want to play this, Aura, we're with you. We're adventurers. We do six impossible things before breakfast. This'll be just one more." His eyes shift to Faphinae. "There are markers I can call in that might tip the scales. Both here, and elsewhere. I guess our first step is to question Captain Doyle."

"I think he will have many of our answers. Including that one." Auranar says, looking at the two half elves standing before her and loving them fiercely. They have always had faith in her. Even when her own belief in herself was lacking; and especially then. "I support Lady Faphinae, I have no idea what we might learn in questioning Captain Doyle but that is certainly in my opinion where we should start."

She doesn't thank them, but her gratitude for their willingness to aid her is in her dark eyes making them bright and shiny. "Let us go." 

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Spellcraft: (17)+30: 47
GAME: Auranar rolls Spellcraft: (1)+15: 16 (EPIC FAIL)
GAME: Auranar rolls Spellcraft: (2)+15: 17
GAME: Telamon rolls spellcraft+2+2: (12)+26+2+2: 42

The quartet (with Pothy) swiftly head out of Alexandria, past the watchtowers that mark the edge of the ward boundaries. To a familiar meadow, one that Telamon knows quite well. He's used it a few times before.

Chanting, his fingers draw a circle in the air... leaving a trail of blue shimmering sparks. As the circle is formed, it expands rapidly, whirling to reveal a portal to a stone quay, with stairs leading up to an imposing, if beautiful castle wrought of glistening white stone. As Telamon ushers the ladies through the gate, he admits, "I didn't like the gray. I'm experimenting with some color changes."

Leca'fi Amdamu, he called it. The Castle on the Edge of Waking. As the elves and half-elves ascend into the castle proper, Telamon floats ahead, spectral guards snapping to attention as he and his party pass. Much like Grandfather's abode, this place seems shrouded in twilight, but it shines all the same. From the highest tower, a great black banner flies, emblazoned with the silver crescent and raven of the Lupecyll-Atlons.

When they step into the great hall, Telamon gestures. "Aura, Lana, check me on this. Let's not make any mistakes." Then, deliberately, his fingertip begins to engrave the complex patterns of a summoning circle in the creamy stone floor. There's no flecks of stone tossed aside, no sparks -- it's as though the material of the castle is his to mold as he sees fit. He whistles off-key, absently, his mind on what he's doing. 

GAME: Telamon casts Gate. Caster Level: 20 DC: 30

Admittedly Auranar is somewhat less help than she would like to be in the building of the summoning circle. Her mind is too much on what comes after. She ends up pointing out the most obvious of errors and pacing nearby while Telamon works. She hasn't seen much of this place actually, and she's curious about it, but now is hardly the time to go wandering around a castle that she's not familiar with.

Cor'lana eagerly helps out, although she hands off Pothy to Faphinae--who, as it turns out, runs a rookery for ravens back home, and so she babies Pothy while Cor'lana helps out with the construction of the circle. "I think we're all set," she says as she surveys the circle, having double-checked it with Auranar's keen spotting of errors.

"Isn't he a good boy?" Faphinae coos, stroking the top of Pothy's cream-white beak. "Yes he is. Sweet thing."

"Can I live with you?" Pothy pleads, looking up at her with big blue eyes as Faphinae retrieves snacks from... somewhere. Cor'lana can't imagine the woman having pockets on her dress considering how high of a slit there is in the sides--nope, there's a pocket, and it's apparently full of dried berries.

"Traitor," Cor'lana remarks, shaking her head. "Let's bring Doyle here. On your mark, Tel!" 

GAME: Telamon casts Gate. Caster Level: 20 DC: 30

Telamon examines one last inscription, before nodding to Lana. "Let's not waste any time." His eyes flick around, and the doors leading to other parts of the castle, and outside, are suddenly shut, each guarded by two of those ghostly guards.

He takes a deep breath, and the air around him cools, fractal patterns of ice forming around his boots where he stands well-clear of the summoning circle. "Anubda kaskal," he incants. "Nu siten, irhandi saggan. I bridge the gap between two worlds; I shorten the way. I call you to this place, Captain Doyle, by my will and my power!"

As Telamon chants, another crackling silver-blue portal opens directly above the summoning circle, this one ringed with arcane glyphs as he reaches through space and time with his magical prowess...

As the gate opens and Telamon calls upon his magic to summon the fae man who he knows, darkness fills the space. This darkness deepens and deepens until it becomes flesh. Not the natural dark flesh that a human might have, but that of the fae creature known as Doyle. His black eyes open, only the whites offering a trace of lightness to him. Even his clothes are unrelieved black. Dark gems glitter on his long tapered ears and he crosses his arms as the darkness around him fades to leave him standing abandoned in the white stone circle.

His gaze traces over Telamon, Auranar, Cor'lana. Pothy. Settles on Pothy for a moment before falling on the woman who is holding him and blinking slowly. Captain Doyle doesn't seem armed at the moment, but thinking him unable to defend himself when he seems more like a panther curled at rest on the floor than anything else, seems like a bad idea. "You have summoned me." It is not quite a question.

Auranar steps toward him a little, her dark eyes tracing over the fae man with just a trace of ire and she holds her tongue barely.

"That we have, Captain." Faphinae speaks first, and she slinks slowly forward to the circle, handing off Pothy to Cor'lana's loving care as she looks at Doyle. The sildanyari woman's eyes are silver and bright, glowing softly as she stops just short of the summoning circle. Her hand is not near her rapier, but there's no doubt that she could draw it at any moment. "It has been a long time."

Cor'lana speaks up then. "We were hoping you would speak to us, Captain Doyle. We are... collectively concerned about the Court, and we seek insights that are not available to us." She pets Pothy quietly, soothing the bird whose blue eyes are locked onto Doyle.

"Hi, Doyle," Pothy says softly in his boyish voice. "I still remember your kindness."

"Indeed." Telamon's voice is cool and distant. "There are questions, Captain Doyle. Questions about a fiend, and his relationship with the Court." He steps forward, careful not to break the circle, his eyes meeting Doyle's.

"If I recall, you once threatened me when I compared the Unseelie to fiends. You resented the accusation; fair enough." His eyes narrow. "Can you say then that the Court has no traffic with the fiends and their machinations?"

Captain Doyle nods politely to Pothy. Acknowledging the favor done once upon a time. "What concerns do you have?" His question is stern, but not without a trace of caution and concern. When Telamon approaches as he does, with his questions Doyle watches the sorcerer carefully. "The Court writ large has no association with fiends of any kind. The creatures that fall into the Abyss are considered... pitiable but disgusting. They were mortal once; most of them. That mortal life tainted them so disgusts most fae and thus we have little to do with them."

Auranar dislikes his careful answer and begins to pick it apart. "Most, but not all? Do you have knowledge of someone who has dealings with a fiend?" She doesn't want to give away their whole plot and plan right away, so she's careful about what she says herself, but the anger in her voice makes it clear that there's something specific on her mind. 

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Sense Motive: (19)+25: 44
GAME: Telamon rolls detectBS: aliased to sense motive: (16)+29: 45
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls 1d20+24: (14)+24: 38

Something about the way that Doyle answers doesn't sit well with Cor'lana, and she twigs onto Auranar's question. "I'd like to know that, too."

Faphinae looks at Telamon for just a heartbeat before turning back to Doyle. "Captain," she says softly, like speaking to a friend rather than an enemy. "We were allies once. We both served her. We are here and not there. We may speak more freely than this."

"We're not here to harm you. At least, I'm not," Cor'lana says. She pets Pothy's head. "If Pothy remembers your kindness... Then there is a line of separation between you and her. That's a good thing."

Telamon's eyes meet Cor'lana's, and something passes between them. Deliberately, Telamon begins to walk around the outside of the summoning circle -- again, careful not to disturb it. "An interesting response, Captain Doyle." His boots sound on the marble floor -- if marble it is.

He stops suddenly, and looks at Doyle again. "In truth, it wasn't my first wish to bring you here. But I have become privy to certain information. Disturbing information. Enough that I must act on it." He regards the Captain sternly. "Is someone within the Court conspiring with fiends?"

"There may be a line of separation between myself and the Queen, but I have my oaths to Quelynos to consider. You are dangerous." Doyle's eyes narrow at Telamon's pacing. "I must consider the wisdom of answering you, and the weight of my duty."

Auranar frowns at this, realizing that they don't in fact know what kind of oaths that Doyle has sworn to uphold in the lands of the fae. They could be anything. "I understand your caution." She looks at Telamon then, knowing that the other man is better with words than she is. She wishes for just a second then that she could speak to him mentally like her sister can! Though being bound to their thoughts forever would be... more than she really wants.

"But she's changed." Cor'lana says this gently, stepping forward a little. "You told us yourself that the Queen has been acting erratically when we returned Mortal Dread. Captain, if she's not herself... If she's being manipulated, and if you care about her, or at least the Court... Wouldn't you want someone to step in?"

"If you love her, if you hate her--as so many of us in the Court do both," Faphinae begins, "then seeing this change must worry you. She has existed for a long time. For her to change now is deeply worrying." Here she eyes Doyle with a look that expresses some shared knowledge, some background that is not evident to the others. "For someone who has very rarely taken interest in mortals, she has taken interest in them more often than not lately."

"Dangerous." Telamon chuckles at that. "Well, that is true. I am that. I never sought to be, but here I am regardless of my wishes." He suddenly fixes Doyle with his gaze again. "It is not untoward for the denizens of the First World to show interest in the mortal realms. But whatever is happening will have repercussions, Captain Doyle."

"Mischief is one thing. The comeuppance of arrogance or rank stupidity? I have no interest in that. But I cannot abide threats to my family, and worse, to my city and to Ea. Perhaps that is presumptuous of me, but I swore an oath as well: to be the guardian of travelers at night. I must respond to these events."

"I loved her once." Doyle says, his expression holding weight but no emotion. It's clear that his love has long faded. A plant gone untended by the woman who has been his mistress for so long. "She has not changed, but what has changed is the circumstances of the court."

Here he shakes his head, unwilling to press further and offer the answers that they so sorely need.

This drives Auranar forward. "If it isn't her then there's something else. Something you can tell us about. Something that we need to know. Please." She isn't afraid of begging. "There must be some reason that she would allow us to think that she's gone mad..." She trails off suddenly, her thoughts flowing fast and furious as she realizes exactly what it is that might drive someone to the edge of insanity. She knows because it has driven her that far. "She loves someone."

It's Pothy's voice that rings out clearly. "Her son."

Cor'lana blinks, looking down at Pothy. "She has a son?" she asks, violet eyes wide. "Who would..." No, better not to ask that. The Queen probably has no shortage of men with whom she can procreate with. Doesn't necessarily mean that there's a father, just a sire.

"Cul the Cruel," Faphinae intones, her eyes narrowing. "I should have guessed. What is that lout doing these days, besides rolling around in his bedchambers with his bodyguards?"

Telamon opens his mouth as well, then shuts it. Something flashes in his eyes. A memory of a discussion. "When an entity outside of the world begins to go against their nature, their very being can fall into flux." He looks at Auranar. "You've seen this before. Granted, a much more... extreme case, but it still stands. The Queen is not supposed to love -- indeed, true love is a ward against her charms. If she has fallen prey to it..."

His gaze shifts to Doyle. "There is a very real danger here, Captain," he says crisply. "I don't know if this holds true for the fey as it might for the celestial and fiendish, but one that deviates too far... can change. Irrevocably. That could throw the Court into chaos."

"She loves her son." Doyle admits, his voice sad. "What mother does not love; sacrifice for her son?" He shakes his head. "Yet she has begun to sacrifice too much. The boy is impotent." He says it like a revelation of the worst sort. 

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Knowledge/Nature: (12)+20: 32
GAME: Telamon rolls knowledge/nature+4: (9)+21+4: 34

Laughter rings out suddenly then.

Faphinae is laughing. Her face is the utter picture of a woman who is crazed by joy. Her silver eyes are shining brightly, her body wracked by her laughter ripping out of her. Her long-nailed hand goes to her face as though to gather herself, but it simply keeps ringing out of her, and it only dies with a long drawn-in breath.

"Haaaah," she says, letting it all out. "Oh. Oh me oh my. Majesty, Majesty, Majesty. So sweet to care so badly about your impotent little creature that you'd move the heavens for him. I understand."

Cor'lana looks at Faphinae, wide-eyed again. "That means... The Court will die if he becomes King. And he will become King, if and when the Queen of Air and Darkness passes on and the crown goes to him." Provided, of course, the woman who is laughing like she's been told the world's funniest joke doesn't see her ambitions through. Cor'lana looks at Doyle. "The Court is doomed."

Telamon for his part rocks back on his heels. A horrid feeling of repetition ricocheting through his head. Ainasse, unable to conceive, forging pacts with the monster that was a half-elf known as Karan'taara. The Queen, her son impotent, forging a pact with fiends in an attempt to... stave off the inevitable? The doom that Cor'lana foresees?

Tel makes a supreme effort to get a hold himself. He can't indulge his emotions and memories right now. Later, but not here. Instead, he digs his fingers into his thigh for a moment, before taking a deep breath. "Captain Doyle, my wife has the right of it. If Cul takes the throne, the Unseelie Court, at least, will fall into chaos. If you are very, very lucky, someone might take the crown and stabilize it -- even the Seelie Court doesn't want their other half to collapse -- but the interregnum will be ghastly."

A pause. "Unless we take the initiative."

"If you intend to do anything, you had best do it soon. The Prince plots against his mother and she can not see nor defend herself from it." And the moment that he steps foot on the throne, the lands that are ruled now by the Queen of Air and Darkness will die. "Her son is the one that is consorting with fiends, trying to garner potency for himself. But they can not give life to his body and their influence spreads through the court. Soon the Queen will not be able to hide it any longer."

Auranar herself is stunned. "Sounds to me like he's the one that needs to die." Though... with the Queen supporting him... killing him would be incredibly difficult unless... they follow along with the plan they already have.

Faphinae smiles brightly at Auranar. "They are like two peas in a pod," she says. "She will not acknowledge that her son is plotting against her. She would never forgive anyone who would kill her son. And he most certainly will not 'give up' his pursuit of fiendish influence." Both must die, in other words.

She looks at Doyle then. "Do you happen to know who Cul has been consorting with lately among fiends?"

"Perhaps one by the name of Koz'gon?" Cor'lana asks, walking over to Telamon to gently put her hand on her husband's arm. She stills him and anchors him in the present, away from where he is reminded of the past they have endured together. Love courses through their mental connection then.

Lana's touch chases away the shadows of the past, and he offers her a smile, warmth flowing back through the bond between them. "I will offer this much, Captain Doyle," he says levelly. "It is the schemes of Koz'gon that concern me. Especially due to the abuse he laid upon my sister by marriage."

"He kidnapped Verna while possessing the changeling, Yehor. I've seen the horrors a possessing fiend can wreak, so I do not hold that against Yehor. But I will have Koz'gon. The only question is how much collateral damage I will cause in the process." His eyes flick to Faphinae. "And you will have to decide if your oaths to the Court go so far as to letting it fall to ruin."

Doyle meets Telamon's eyes squarely. "My loyalty is first and foremost to the Unseelie people. To the Dark Court. I have sworn to protect them and that is my duty. I hope that I have served that duty today, as I have tried to serve it these years when I can."

He looks at Cor'lana. "I hear many things whispered in the dark, the name Koz'gon is known to me, but I had no way of knowing what it meant. The Prince takes no note of me, but I can not act against him. The Queen's orders."

Auranar looks at Doyle herself steadily. "I think that we've learned much of what we came to learn but... How do the Queen's bind themselves to the land? How do the monarchs become as they are?" This they do need to know as well after all.

"I would like to know that, too," Cor'lana says, nodding firmly at Auranar's question. "I mean... What separates a fae monarch from any other fae nobleman?"

She regards Faphinae for a moment. (And how could we use it to transform Faphinae from what she is now into a fae queen?) she thinks in her mental bond with Telamon. "How long has the Queen been the Queen, anyway?" Cor'lana voices. The more and more she thinks about it... She realizes all over again how insane Faphinae's ambitions are. The Queen could be eternal. The Queen could be one of the very first souls 'born' of this world. She just doesn't know.

But just because the Queen is eternal... doesn't mean she will stay eternal. "Is it tied to the throne itself?" Cor'lana asks. "Or a crown?" She's heard stories of fae monarchs being tethered to their thrones, or to their crowns or other items of power. She doesn't know how true those are, but in Quelynos, a story has power. 

GAME: Telamon rolls knowledge/nobility: (17)+13: 30
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls 1d20+11: (3)+11: 14

Telamon closes his eyes. Letting his mind drift back through the endless lessons, the education his father insisted on. Drawing on that deep well, now augmented with the blessings of Ni'essa. Then his eyes snap open.

"Blood," he states flatly. "To become monarch, you must drink from the unbroken line of rulership, and gift your blood to the land in turn to become bound to it. Not as common in the mortal realms these days -- enlightened souls that we are." His comment is wry. "But it still holds true in the First World."

Doyle smiles thinly. "Our land is still alive." He says this like he's saying something that is simply true. "It needs to be fed periodically. Now, unless you have any further questions... I should return before the Queen realizes that I am gone, and I have to answer questions that are better left unasked."

Auranar looks at the others gathered, for the moment satisfied herself with the knowledge that they have obtained.

"None," Cor'lana replies, shaking her head.

"Nor do I," Faphinae responds, smiling at Doyle. "Smiling suits you, Captain. I hope, in the future, we will see more of that."

It's Pothy who has perhaps the most surprising bit. Before Cor'lana can stop him, he flies just up to the edge of the summoning circle. There... He offers something precious to Doyle.

A snack. It's a dried berry he took from Faphinae earlier.

"Please be safe," Pothy urges with those big blue eyes of his. "I'd hate it if something happened to you."

"Very well," Telamon states. "I release you from my circle, and return you to your home, Captain Doyle. I hope that we can resolve this in time." An arcane gesture deactivates the binding circle -- which allows Doyle to depart. After, presumably, he takes the dried berry from Pothy. Or not.

Regardless, once he's gone, Telamon turns to look at the others. "We have work to do, if we wish to set things in the Courts right -- and crown a new queen." His eyes flick to Faphinae with amusement, before he continues, "I plan to ward this castle extensively, but it can serve as a hiding place to do such."

Doyle takes the berry reverently, like a precious gift should be taken, but he says nothing else as he leaves back through the gate and is gone.

The rest of the evening is spent in planning, and preparation for what comes next. After all, installing a new Queen where one already exists is quite the undertaking.

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