Date: Sat, 06 Sep 1997 13:32:17 To: lostholt-1@murkworks.net From: Anais Shadowhawk Subject: Resolution of the Mountain plot. Here are two logs from the resolution of the Mountain plot, as those who got together and discussed, and thought things out, decided to resolve them. Apologies if anyone's offended by not being included in the RP. Trying to get a massive amount of players together for one fight turned into a massive headache for those of us involved, and we decided to close the story down after much stalling and whatnot, off-camera. Cutter ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The chaos seems so distant as you drift within your awareness and within the Mountain. So distant, in fact, that you might almost believe that you aren't near the commotion - or the battle. Might, if Cutter weren't who he were. Hadn't been through and seen and learned what he's learned. If he didn't harbor such distrust.. no, hatred .. for the Mountain, and it's inhabitants. Floating, away from his tribe, he -is- still Cutter Kinseeker. Can he send? Sending seems so useless... the bloodrise from battle clouds... and yet makes clear. And suddenly, there is a Presence surrounding all thought and send, the same touch of an Old One, almost as true and deep as Timmain's herself. It is not Winnowill, though it bears the same touch-sense as her sends. ** You are beautiful, are you not, wolfling? ** Useless, perhaps, but there is still a tether. Well. Let that go. For a moment. Nostrils flare, fingers curl, and he turns his head. Sight, sound, smell? ** What do you want? ** Snarled, with as much energy as he can muster, despite the room's effects. Teeth bared as his lip curls back. First and foremost a warrior. Things are blurred, by something unknown, and scents range from water, to the acrid scent of plant-poison. The smell of amusement preceeds the dry laughter that sounds like feet in fallen brown leaves. ** I want nothing of you. Someone else, perhaps, has different plans. ** A darker Presence exsists now, seeping into the room like a foul odor, reeking of death and putridity. The Black One's send falls from all around, filling the senses and drowning all else out. ** Is he docile? ** The dry one laughs faintly again. ** Docility little becomes one such as this, Winnowill. He is merely tempered for the moment. ** A sigh comes from Winnowill as slender fingers touch your lightly browned arm. ** Nial... you are a genius, but I need him docile. ** The dry laugh echoes. ** Do that yourself, healer. ** Black Snake! Pupils widen, then shrink again, lip curls further, at that touch, and he does his best to pull his arm away. Curl it, to lash out, in response. So sluggish, though. Heavy? Muscles, bones, don't care, don't want to respond. ** Winnowill. ** Pure venom, mocked by the plant venom that runs through his system; a flash, and then it is swallowed, like an ant in sap. And an undercurrent: ** Leetah? Archer. Where? ** The dry laugh whispers through. ** He tries to send, Winnowill. Shall I keep his sends for my amusement? ** The touch on your arm becomes stronger, the undeniable touch of magic lacing within your senses, pleasantly numbing and easing them. ** If you wish, Nial. He cannot send beyond this room. ** Your question goes noted, but unanswered. ** Greetings again, wolfchief. I did try so to be pleasant about this, but I'm afraid you forced my hand. ** There is a dangerous lightness to the send. Panic, like a bolt of lightning, being swallowed again. Don't take his senses! Scent, sound. Is there anything but the Snake? There was another. Eyes close, open again, by strength of will, force. Think, Cutter. Brow furrows. Tongue is loosened from the roof of his mouth, he swallows. ** I forced -your- hand? Suntop.. Caged Ember.. you knew we'd come, Winnowill. Knew we'd come to.. ** To what? To.. ** Like a wolf. Hunting. ** ** Ember killed my own, wolfchief. A life for a life seems fitting, does it not? ** You have shared this discussion before... but Voll is not here to plead your case. ** No! ** is the instant response, and a muffled growl bubbles out of the back of his throat. ** You.. caged her. Like an animal. ** More strongly: ** We care about our tribe, our families, Snake. ** More magic laces through you, yet you cannot tell what it is doing. It is at work, but your senses are dimmed to it, unknowing what it seeks out, unknowing what it Shapes. ** /An image of Ember's blade slipping between Sar's ribs, piercing his heart and killing him./ Is that how you care for one of 'your own'? Mate to your daughter, father to one you call kin? Is that how, /Kinseeker/? ** From behind, the dry laugh whispers. ** Well done, Winnowill. Your pain fades with acceptance. ** A sound akin to a growl comes from Winnowill. ** Silence, Nial. ** Cutter flinches. Bares his teeth. Not physical pain, though a lance of curiosity, inspection, races through him. Again he tries for that link with Leetah, to hear her. Find her. ** You -caged- her, ** he spits, in defiance. ** We are -elves-, Snake. Not animals. ** Disgust, revulsion, call it what you will. ** Too blind to understand. ** Ever patient, the send replies. ** She killed him, wolfchief. Do elves kill other elves...? Or have you... changed your outlook on life? ** The dry send that interceeds the send for Leetah is that of Nial, and it twists the send, arcing it back on you sickeningly. The return of the send causes him to cry out, to try and shake off the magic that flows through him, shake off the grip that was there.. must still be there.. on his arm. "Leetah!" That, spoken. Like the other emotions, though, it is swallowed, slowly but surely, sapping away the will to struggle, to thrash. It leaves him, panting, eyes fixed on some point overhead. It is a long moment, before he answers. Remembers to answer. ** Sometimes.. the mindsick must die. Sar was mindsick. ** The send laces with the magic, the touch no longer light at all. ** Sar was minding his chores. I was, after all, caring for Ember. The Cage was the safest place for her. There were Chosen who wanted her dead. ** Cutter's body tenses, and his eyes close. Denial. Rejection. ** What do you want? ** A quieter command: ** Stay out of my head, snake. ** The leaf-dry send drifts over. ** Seems it needs proof, Winnowill. Shall I secure it for you? ** Her responce doesn't even pause the magic's trickle. ** No, Nial. He shall soon have all the proof he needs. ** Amusement: ** Can't do it alone, Winnowill? ** Her send is dry, as a sendril reaches out and allows you to sense the magic, and it HURTS. ** Proof enough exsists in that your son is unharmed, and awaiting you in wrapstuff, wolfchief. As for Nial, he is simply here to insure your... docility, no matter .how. demeaning. ** The pain fades blessedly. Cutter ROARS in response, both vocally and sendwise, body tensing, arching again. No fair no fair no fair. Pain is no fair. Not when he can't return the favor. When the pain fades again, he clenches his teeth. Curls his fingers into fists, curls his toes. It -won't- happen again, is the message he conveys. Anger smoulders in his send. ** Nial. I'll remember the name. The scent. Like you, snake. ** His heart beats a little faster. ** Suntop. Why? Why any of this? ** Her laugh is soft and low. ** Call it.... a gift. ** The magic has done its work, and slowly begins to receed, leaving behind it apleasant haze, a drowsy state reminiscent of one being still half-asleep. The dry Presence fades, followed by a cool send from Winnowill. ** Make the arrangements for him to meet the others of his tribe. Don't forget that wretched Preserver. ** A moment of pause, then: ** Wolfchief. ** Snort of derision. ** Don't want your gifts, black snake. I -want- my -son-, ** he insists. ** Too scared to face me, without magic and drug.. ** And then it's fading, disappearing, and he falters, hesitates. Confusion seeps into his body language, his expression, and leaks from his sends. For more reasons than one, perhaps. He's listening, though something... is changed? Winnowill stands before you, regal in her blackness of robe and stark whiteness of skin. ** I would move slowly, wolfchief. Your son is being taken to your tribesmates. ** Something soft is in her hands, and this she throws casually to you. ** Here. You'll need this. ** Cutter's eyes narrow, his lips curl, but he catches, out of reflex, the soft bundle. Tries to, at any rate. Arms that are too long, too heavy or awkward or something.. to move. Perhaps the plant poison, makes him miss. Fumble the bundle to the ground. He is torn between too many things, and it lies, forgotten. ** Suntop? Taken where? ** Winnowill chuckles faintly. ** Out. To your people. You may send for confirmation. ** Winnowill fades into the darkness, but is not quite gone. The Other rejoins. You sense in a locksend, Leetah's send reaches for you. ** Lifemate... ** Cutter stands, and nearly immediately stumbles. Stands, again, with his hands outspread, to keep his balance. ** Out, ** he echoes, though he looks in no danger of moving. Brow furrowed. And that bundle. A robe? There is a low laugh nearby. You locksend to Leetah, Cutter seizes onto that send, as if it meant his life. ** Leetah... ** Less a robe, and more clothing reminiscent of that same outfit given you some time long ago when Ember and Suntop saved you all. But... it seems a bit... big. You sense in a locksend, Leetah's send is crystal clear and as bright as the desert sun. ** Where are you, beloved? ** Cutter's leathers, obviously, no longer fit him, looking as if he'd tried to put on cub's leathers. Splitting, in some places, along seams, and such. He takes the time now, to look around the chamber, blinking several times. You locksend to Leetah, Cutter doesn't know where he is. A room. There is water, somewhere near. It is warm. There are pillows and... High Ones, he is sleepy. He feels odd. Clumsy. Something? Sluggish. ** Here. ** Leetah locksends ** Keep sending, beloved... I shall try to follow. Are you well? ** You locksend ** Well? Yes... I think so. Leetah! She is sending Suntop to the tribe. The snake. ** to Leetah. Leetah locksends ** So he is free? ** Cutter locksends: Cutter is distracted. And there is a sense of him being different.. and still the same. Thick, as if sap ran through his thoughts. Bewilderment. ** Hm? Free? No. No, I don't know. I didn't see him. ** Only the dual presences seem to 'look' on. You sense in a locksend, Leetah's send seems clearer now, as though she were coming closer. ** Wretched stone maze... ** Cutter's hands drop toward his sides, and he takes a step toward the doorway. Wavers, and stops, brow furrowed. Pieces are beginning to click, as he takes another assessment. He looks down, toward his feet. Toward the boots that bind his feet so tightly, now. And the breeches that are.. stretched and torn. Lifts a hand, and flexes fingers that are too long. And once more, a growl bubbles out of him, a send riding it's rolling sound. ** Winnowill! ** Her dark laugh echoes through the area, her send coming from seemingly everywhere. ** A gift, wolfchief. ** You locksend ** ** to Leetah. Leetah locksends ** What is it, lifemate? (concern... worry) ** Leetah comes in, at first looking lost and frustrated, then her green eyes light up with determination when she sees the two of you. As fast as she can run, she is at her lifemate's side. Of the Dark One, there is no sign, only faint sense. The now-fragile seeming wolfchief on the other hand... Cutter wheels, at the echo of sound, spinning to follow the way it travels, and consequently tangling himself in legs that should be shorter, nearly toppling himself once more. ** Take it back! ** Cutter stands, albeit awkwardly, in this chamber. Or rather, an elf who resembles Cutter stands here. This elf, however, is too tall to be a wolfrider chieftain. His leathers are too small, too tight where the seams held, torn where they did not. And he scowls. Leetah's eyes fly open, "High ones!" Cutter spins again, looking a little less likely to fall. Still, none of his grace remains, and when his gaze falls on Leetah, relief and joy are cut off by realization: Shorter? Leetah is shorter than he? Wrong. It's all wrong. Leetah goes to throw her arms about her now much taller lifemate... to steady him and sooth him at the same time. Her anger is as brigh as the daystar. Leetah looks around, seeking sign of the black snake. One arm serves to help support her lifemate, the hand of the other is curled, anger lending a red glow where there is usually only clear brightness. Leetah's fury is apparent. "Leetah.. Suntop. Did you see him? Did she take him out? She said.." He trails off, and casts an angry glare at a wall. "High Ones! Why am I trusting her, now, of all times?!" Leetah murmurs, "Send for him, beloved. My mind is not clear." Indeed, her gracile jaw is set as she sends furiously for another mind. Cutter does, indeed, falling silent long enough to set his own jaw. Close his eyes, and send. And then he returns to the moment, to the chamber, and his lifemate. His angry lifemate. "Leetah.. you are all right? The rest?" Leetah's body is tensed as she sends pure anger. Seldom does she get this angry. Tears spring to Leetah's eyes as she turns to her lifemate. "I am ... fine... beloved. We must... see to Suntop." Cutter's brow furrows, as he reaches for her chin. Reaches down for her chin. Tilts her head up toward him. "Leetah?" Concern plays across his expression, then: "Come on. We'll go back to them. Back to the tribe." As Leetah speaks, he smiles, briefly, a flicker of warmth. "Aye. We'll go." Leetah is still trembling with anger, but her expression gentles as he smiles. Leetah locksends ** I'll make it better, beloved. I promise. ** Leetah's send is so fierce it practically sparks through the air ** NEVER!! ** Leetah's eyes search around, as though she could find the source of her anger merely by looking. Again, from the very stones of the Mountain, comes a dark laugh. Cutter flinches, noticably, and takes a step backward, that turns into another to recover his balance. The laugh draws a snarl from him, and he bellows, "Leave her -alone-, Snake!" Leetah whirls, hand going to her knife, then falling away as she approaches, eyes narrowed. As Leetah approaches the glimmer, it takes on a familiar shape. Golden and shimmering, it rests on the floor, lightly coated with dust and blood. Leetah kneels, "Suntop?" It is an old hair ornament, most familiar indeed, for Rayek once wore it until it was to be seen in Ktai's hair. Leetah trembles, "R-rayek?" To a Healer's senses, the blood is Ktai's. Leetah kneels, cradling the ornament, green eyes tearfilled. Cutter steps over behind Leetah, and bends his legs, kneeling behind her. "Leetah.. what? What is it?" Leetah looks up, tears falling down her cheeks, "It was Rayek's... but the blood here belongs to another. I do not understand." The words echo in your minds, though not sent. ** Ktai has been eliminated... ** Leetah murmurs, "Ktai..." Leetah sighs and stands, "Let us get out of this place, lifemate... before more ill happens." Leetah's hand clenches over the ornament in fury. Cutter nods, albeit slowly. Begins the process of rising, then pauses, to ask, "Rayek himself?" Leetah's eyes are open and slighly unfocused as she continues to send. "I do not know..." she murmurs, very very quietly. Cutter's brow furrows more deeply. "Do you remember the way back, Leetah?" He asks, quietly. Carefully. Leetah blinks, "I... I think so. Cutter nods, and puts his hand on Leetah's shoulder. "Show me? I want to be.. out of this den." Leetah nods and rises. [And later....] Date: Sat, 06 Sep 1997 13:33:34 To: lostholt-1@murkworks.net From: Anais Shadowhawk Subject: Resolution, Pt. 2. What has gone before: Fighting broke out. Cutter was abducted, for want of a better term. Levitated away from the tribe, leaving Chosen behind to take the punishment, as he disappeared. Leetah left, afterward, to find him. At a point in the fighting or baiting and snapping, between Wolfriders and Gliders, everything stopped. The Chosen, and other Gliders, retreated, hovering about passageways to watch, as two elves carried a bundle to the wolfriders left behind, announcing that it was Suntop. And now, Leetah returns, with a tall elf following her, hand on her shoulder. Cutter. Only not Cutter. Cutter, the size of a Glider. Leetah looks ... sad... there is a deep sense of being defeated about her. Treestump's eyes lift at the sound and scent of Cutter's and Leetah's approach, lifting his head as well. His eyes widen before his brows furrow as he takes in Cutter's new form. "Lad..?" He glances at Leetah questioningly before turning the glance to Cutter as well. Leetah's eyes are lowered and she doesn't seem much inclined to speak. Cutter's attention leaves Leetah, and shifts to Treestump instead. Abruptly, he looks as sheepish as a cub, as he ducks his head, and lifts his hand from his mate's shoulder. "Treestump." The voice is the same, the face is similar, if longer, and though he moves with stilted grace, the ruined leathers he wears are, indeed, Cutter's. Leetah regards her lifemate, frustration evident in her features. Leetah locksends ** Do you ... feel ... well? ** The similarities evident in Cutter's voice and appearance seem to be enough to assuage the Wolfrider's puzzlement, at least a bit, but still he regards the suddenly much taller Wolfrider with a crinkled brow. "What.. happened?" You locksend to Leetah, Cutter admits, ** There was another, there. He said something about plants. I feel.. slow. Clumsy. ** Leetah reaches out for her lifemate, hands glowing softly. Leetah seeks any poison or other illness within her lifemate's altered form. Cutter starts to answer, then frowns, and looks back at Leetah. "Winnowill," he answers, with an awkward shrug. Then: "Uncle. Did they bring Suntop?" Plant poison. Enough to slow, but not kill. Easily found, easily cleaned. Leetah concentrates on that. Treestump nods slightly in response to the first statement, his eyes betraying the questions he wants to ask, but doesn't voice. He clears his throat after the second and nods again. "Oh, aye.." He turns away and shoos the well-meaning Wolfriders that have gathered around the coccoon, still left untouched, gesturing to the wrapstuff. Leetah goes over to the coccoon and kneels beside it, sensing for injury before the first blade is taken to the silken threads. Cutter crosses the distance to the cocoon much quicker than he would have not so long ago, and kneels, clumsily, beside it. He keeps his hands to himself, watching the threads fall away. Leetah gently frees Suntop, curing him of any lingering ills at the same time. Treestump did not have the coccoon opened for that reason, for fear that Suntop would sustain injury or illness before Leetah could attend to him. He stands apart from the parents and child, staying quiet as he watches. Perhaps a little pale, from time wrapped. A little gaunt. And shaking off slumber like threads much heavier than the gossamer that surrounded him, Suntop stirs. Lifts a hand to rub at his eyes, then blinks them open, only to find Leetah at his side, and familiar faces all around. He sits up, suddenly. "Mother?" Leetah's eyes fill with tears as she embraces her child. ** Suntop. ** Treestump smiles quietly as well, his eyes wrinkling around the edges as he does so, exhaling a soft breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding while the silver threads were being cut. Leetah releases her child, still examining him, before she turns to encompass Cutter in her gaze. Her expression tightens as she watches him, not recoiling from him, but from what his altered appearance foretells. Suntop returns the embrace, tightly, then uncurls his arms, to receive several claps on the shoulders, touches, and smiles, from the rest gathered about. He climbs to his feet, the better to be rid of the rest of the clinging fibers, and spots Cutter. Pale eyebrows lift, and he looks, immediately, at Leetah. For his part, Cutter remains kneeling, where he is. It is Suntop who approaches, studying him almost in fascination, before he offers the too-tall chieftain his hand. Cutter takes it, stands, and once he has his balance, engulfs his son in a fierce hug. Leetah for her part is looking at her lifemate, gathering strength for the trial ahead. Treestump still stands apart from the father and son, as does most of the tribe, allowing the two their reunion. He folds his arms over his chest, his smile slighting a bit at Suntop's hesitation and, though he relaxes as the chief and son embrace, his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes now. Leetah still regards Cutter softly. Cutter takes a step back from Suntop, assuring him, "We'll talk. I promise." He looks over the rest of the tribe, then, and does his best to square his shoulders, to stand straightbacked, despite the height that gives him. ** Home, ** he suggests. "We have Suntop and Rayek.." He trails off. "Do we stay, to find him, Leetah?" Leetah looks up (and up and up) at him. She shakes her head. "Winnowill said he was no longer there." Cutter offers Leetah a long-fingered hand, then glances up as well, as if expecting to see a silent watcher. No doubt she's there. "Home, then. We've been away too long." Leetah nods. "Too long." Leetah rises, slipping to his side. Treestump tilts his head slightly, stepping forward as the conversation changes its course. A soft murmur rises with the rest of the Wolfriders, in agreement, and only then does the elder voice his agreement as well. "Aye, lad.. lass.. I think we'd all prefer home to.. here." You locksend to Treestump, Cutter sends, with the feeling that you're not the only one hearing him, and yet, it isn't tribewide, ** Thank you. For your.. patience. ** You locksend ** Leetah.. I'm. Sorry. ** to Leetah. Leetah slips an arm around Cutter, looking up and into his eyes. You sense in a locksend, Treestump nods slightly, hesitant for words before answering simply with, ** Aye, lad. ** You might sense that he wants to say more, but cannot think of how to voice it, so simply leaves it with those two words. Treestump nods to Cutter slightly, smiling. This time, when the Wolfriders reach Door, she is all too willing to open, and let them go.