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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Manbearcat" data-source="post: 6817067" data-attributes="member: 6696971">SaerieThe sign reads:CROP STEALERS, RABBLEROUSERS, NE'ER-DO-WELLS... KEEP OUT!Truth be told, Old Man Barnum has never needed that sign.  Rumors that he's a farmer by day, warlock by night have been enough to scare away thieves, pranksters, and fill childrens' sleepy minds with all manner of nightmares.  But Dire Wolves from the material plane can't read and don't know of the legend...One wolf plays a version of whack-a-mole with a tiny fey creature who is springing an and out of holes on his grasshopper legs as his mocking song fills the air.  Every time the wolf's snout penetrates the earth, the Grig pops out of another hole with new verse of his taunting song and a dagger poking a flank or a paw.  Clearly they have been at this game for some time as the cabbage patch is in utter ruins.Another wolf is suffering a "Guilliver-Tie-Down" by a collection of incensed Brownies, their wee voices a unified clatter.  The wolf isn't resisting much due to the fact that he his red muzzle has already gorged in full on large, Woolly Pig, the gory remnants of which lie nearby.The last wolf is chasing down and slaughtering several Woolly Pigs for sport or later feasting.  The trail of blood, torn flesh, splintered wood, and ruined troughs renders the former pen virtually unrecognizable.  Unfortunately, part of that is on Rawr as he chases down the wolf and tramples anything that wasn't in tatters before.[sblock]Dire Wolves:Instinct:  Menace the weakCost:  Dominance.  Deference to the pack by those that come in contact with it.[/sblock][HR][/HR]OtthorYour recall on the Blade Ward tradition is acute:1)  The Master's latitude is complete save for blood ties or criminal/non-Summer Fey background.2)  In the case of either 1 or 2, a deadly proving ritual must be undertaken with a neutral third party arbiter bearing witness.  This is to confirm the potential Blade Ward's dedication to the Summer Court and their unparalleled skill in marrying blade and magic.[HR][/HR]The open balcony of the Summer Queen's palace is imposing in its natural grandeur.  Impossibly intricate mithril carvings and crystalline sculptures capture an endless array of dazzling sunbeams.  The lounge furnishings and magic rugs are animated, serving as taxies to various views, wine casks, or texts (which, of course open themselves on demand to whatever subject is requested).  All parties have access to constant magical Sendings so conversation can remain entirely telepathic if the participants wish it to be.The Minister of Arts is Ghostroot, a former dryad whose tree perished many centuries ago in a terrible war with the formorians that scarred the land deeply.  Somehow, she survived the affair becoming a hamadryad.  She also chairs the Green Court's equivalent under her Archfey patron, the Summer Queen's consort, Green Lord Oran.  She hates war above all other things.The Minister of Coin is a powerful gnome illusionist and former adventurer of the mortal world, Karl Stoneshine.  He has studied currency and economics in more realms than most have even heard of.The Minister of Law is an Elven Ranger from Shinaelestra, the Fading City.  Tell me what he hates or what he loves above all other things.As you know, Malgelir Beretheil of Astrazalian is the Summer Court Minister of Relations.Malgelir starts in immediately:"I don't know why the human girl of the mortal world is allowed in here with us.  Truth be told, I'm wondering why she was allowed to accompany our agents back to the Feywild at all?  And I'm quite certain I'm not the only one who has wondered this.  She is a danger to us all.  You all know of what I speak."  He looks around at faces that betray nothing.  He is speaking aloud in the common tongue for Sadia to plainly hear him.  She tries to feign distraction, but she is clearly paying attention and frightened.Karl Stoneshine moves his lips but no other part of his face follows suit.  "Motion to discuss her fate."With nary a tenth of a second of delay, Minister Malgelir raises his hand.  "Seconded."He turns to her with honeyed, serpentine words.  "Come forward girl.  Let us have a good look at you."Her small form, sitting forward in her chair, eyes down, hands clasped, begins to slide toward the assembled group as the mobile lounge draws her near.  She sits back and grabs the armrests, knuckles whitening, fearful eyes as big as saucers.  She looks to you, Otthor, for help.Malgelir leans in to examine her as she slides toward him...</blockquote>

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