[The Farm] A Calling & A Summons

[Mr. Blackbird Lore]

Three weeks before the Fall Festival

Though the injuries gained in Hawaii had long since faded, the events never left Jane Smith's mind. Every day she reflected. It had been a gross upset in their favor, true, but it had also nearly led to the deaths of dozens of children. Fuckin children. Her own mortality didn't even register by comparison.

Jane was never one to simply complain about a problem. She was a fixer- by trade and by nature. In the last two months, she had contemplated how to fix this issue very thoroughly. For the last three weeks, she had been planning and preparing. Now, as her preparations neared completion, she realized it wasn't like it used to be. She wasn't a lone wanderer anymore. She didn't have to do this the old way.

She heard the boots crunching up her gravel driveway and called out as they came near. "In here!" She looked up from her workbench in the barn to the door in time to see Ruarc Flynn come into view. "Thanks fer comin. I know ye had somethin ye wanted t talk bout. Turns out so do I."

The workbench was crowded with bullets, most fitted to cartridges, but perhaps two dozen still waited to be pressed. One heap of gunpowder and smaller, premeasured piles sat on the opposite of the reloader. The quantity is what initially caught the druid's eye; after the initial surprise, however, gleaming patterns stenciled into the bullets captured his attention.

As for Jane, she wasn't much different than usual. Her hair was tailed, her jeans were dark, her boots were worn, and her shirt was a powder blue denim. Sweat shone on her face and neck and stained her shirt. But there was that serious, determined look in her eyes that he'd seen before. She had dark thoughts, and was ready to do what she did best.

[Straken]

The sound of heavy boots on gravel was a nostalgic sound for Ruarc. It always reminded him of back home in the Irish countryside. All the paths around Safeholme were either cobble pavers, concrete, or dirt; but there was just something about gravel. As such, he always enjoyed getting invited to Jane’s property, even if it was always for business. Unsure of exactly what business that might be, Ruarc came dressed ready to work. Beyond his heavy and well worn leather work boots; he wore faded denim jeans that were beginning to fray at the cuffs and thin at the knees, a thick leather belt with a multitool sheath on his left side, and a breathable light grey t-shirt worn under a burgundy flannel with its sleeves rolled up. His dark brown hair was combed enough to not look disheveled, but otherwise was left to fall where it wished. All of this combined with the coarse stubble he’d been growing out for a few days had led Caoranach to compare him to a paper towel mascot.

Following the sounds of Jane’s voice to the barn, the Irishman took a few moments to appreciate the scope of what he had walked in on. He was a layman in regards to firearms, especially when compared to Jane, but he could still marvel at the woman’s work. A single long whistle expressed his impression, and he walked closer to the work bench to inspect the munitions. Between the bullets and the look in Jane’s eyes, Ruarc knew this was definitely business.

“Anytime, Jane,” Ruarc said cordially as he picked up one of the bullets to take a closer look at the patterns. “Down to brass tacks, I s’pose. Definitely looks like ya got something on your mind, so let’s start with you. What’s up?”

With an open palm, Ruarc made a wide gesture to show the question was meant for everything.

[Mr. Blackbird Lore]

She plucked a stenciled round from the workbench and tossed it to the druid with a quick snap of the wrist. "Catch." She planted her hands on her hips and nodded at the round. "How's it feel?" As soon as it touched bare skin, Ruarc would feel a tingling at the point of contact. It was similar to the tingling of a sleeping limb, but there was some indescribable distinction. Like the sensation was simulated, or being sensed through a layer of clothing.

"Mana disruption runes. Thas the tinglin." She plucked another from the table that lacked the dull golden sheen that most possessed. "Silver." She let it clatter back to the bench among its peers and grabbed another. "Incendiary." This one was also tossed back.

She walked toward Ruarc. "I used talways be this prepared. Used to. I thought I was done when I became a teacher. I thought France was an exception. I thought slayin a few gods mighta given Evil the hint." She took a deep breath and sighed angrily. "And then Hawaii." One hand clenched subconsciously into a fist, and she forced it open so she could take the ammo back. "Evil's come a-callin, an I'm answerin. No more children bein mauled by hellhounds. No more children bein assaulted with their own goddamn blood." She turned away to return the lone round to its rightful place, then spun back to him.

"I thought the OM mighta taken offense, but they don seem to mind the fights so long as the mundies don't catch a whiff of the action. So I'm huntin Lamplighters."

[Straken]

Each round in turn passed under Ruarc’s appraising eye as Jane explained her motivation. It was all very impressive work, and he felt a combination of pride in his friend and indignation at not being asked to help earlier. Upon dutifully passing back the last round he crossed his arms and stepped to lean against the wall. Everything she was saying sounded like something he’d said himself.

“Believe me, I know the feeling. Currents are shifting, and everyday I feel like there is a storm on the horizon. The world is changing, and I spent too long hermitted away. I’ve been making my own preparations since Hawaii for the same reasons,” Ruarc’s voice was steady, but Jane would pick up on the tension. With little preamble, he began to share some of the details from his interaction with the artificial familiar nicknamed Six-Piece. Much of it was tertiary to the matter at hand, so he kept it brief and focused on the aspects of the conversation that had unnerved him. The Lamplighters’ access to information they shouldn’t have, their potential ties to some druids, and Heddwyn’s attempt at a peace offering.

“If you’re going hunting, Jane, I intend to go with you.”

[Mr. Blackbird Lore]

"Thas jus it, Flynn. Nothin changed. We killed deities. We upturned an entire plane of existence. An who cared? Some bureaucrats worried bout the status quo." She glanced at the workbench, then back to him. "If violence is the only language they unnerstan... fine. I speak six, but violence is my lingua materna. Been cuttin my teeth on steel fore I knew the birds n bees." There was a darkness that passed over her visage, perhaps as she recalled a memory-- recent or distant, though, was a mystery.

She smiled dangerously when he offered to join her. "Thought ye might say that. Ye sure, though? These kids... Someone has ta make sure we don have another encounter closer to home."

[Straken]

Standing in stoic contemplation, Ruarc had little interest in pushing a debate over the state of the world. That was above his station, and if it turned out to be cause for concern he would gladly stand as a flood wall. More importantly it was irrelevant to the matter at hand. He similarly saw an opportunity to share his experience of being molded from an innkeeper's son into what felt like an attack dog, and the resignation he felt about being good at it; but similarly it was irrelevant. Jane didn't call him here for debates or commiseration, after all there wasn't any alcohol nearby. This was work.

"The school will be fine. Aurus is on extra watch at the gate, Miyuki's in the area, and I'll call in the Viking to fill in for my grounds keeping. Besides you an' I went to France just fine last time. It wasn't until I tried to take a vacation that something bad happened," Ruarc pushed himself away from the wall as he stood to face Jane. "Where are we going, when do we leave, and when should I be here with my bag?"

[Mr. Blackbird Lore]

The dangerous smile returned. "Fore we talk logistics, there's one more thang..." She held up one finger and waited. It took Ruarc a few seconds to hear it, but the sound was as unmistakable as it was pleasing: shoes on gravel. A few seconds later another familiar face appeared in the doorway of the barn. "The way I figure, if yer gonna hunt, ye call in a professional."

She smiled at the newcomer. "Thanks fer comin, Eryl, I know it's a long trip. But we need t talk business. Are ye up fer huntin Lamplighters?"

[Kokuten]

As she had many times before, Eryl came to Jane's door wreathed in finery. She looked in every way the traditional mage, with her flowing blue coat and its sleeves, the brown vest over a baby-blue shirt and a set of trousers tucked into a nice set of boots. Ruarc was a surprise for her as she came in, as normally the triclops had the Gunslinger to herself for most of their visits, but she chose not to mention it for the unconventional day of this meeting.

When Jane had called her, she had forcefully ejected the Lodge Witch of Warsaw, her current boss, out of the room. Knowing that she was needed, Eryl had chosen to weaponize apologies and schedules and left G’dansk as soon as she was able.

"I could feel this coming," answered Eryl, her eyes hardening at the prospect of hunting people she had sworn not to involve herself with. The Library offered never to bother her if she chose to do the same, but that agreement had been broken at Oahu. "The two of you are like tinder and flint."

Eryl's smile became eerily wider, and the look on her face was one that Ruarc had not seen in over ten years, "But I don't dislike that. A Lodge Witch manages her hunters so that they may best rid society of parasitic vermin."

The expression faded and she became more soft and cheery, something Jane was more used to seeing, "That is... If you would have me, dear. The both of you are terribly reckless, and I would not sleep well if the two of you went off on your own without some sort of warding."

[Mr. Blackbird Lore]

Jane smiled back. “If yer here, yer invited. Was hopin ye might be able t help us track em down. First, les mosey on inside.” She led the trio to her house and into the living room. It was about what one would expect from her. A 3-seat leather couch and matching recliner were arranged around a heavy, dark coffee table. The table was covered by a stack of laminated maps. The one on top was clearly a city map, though the name was hard to read from a distance.

“Seat yerselves. I got water, tea, lemonade, n vodka.” She moved toward the kitchen to handle their requests.

Once seated, the city name on the map was clearly legible at the top: Cairo.

[Straken]

Ruarc subconsciously squinted as Eryl entered the barn, and doubly so when she flashed a rather malicious look. Even Caoranach had taken seven or eight years for him to warm up to her, so Eryl was still rather firmly distrusted. However, a bronco's huff signaled the Irishman's relent to any paying attention to him. Jane trusted Eryl enough to bring her into a job, so Ruarc chose to trust his friend instead. He was in little position to oppose the triclops' involvement, but in the back of his mind he made a note to watch her carefully. Shifting his attention to follow Jane, he began moving once more to fall into step behind her on the way inside.

"Tea, please," Ruarc responded as he moved around the coffee table and claimed the left side of the couch, but was almost immediately at the edge of it as he began to examine the maps. Cairo, Egypt. An area so ancient it predated his own Order by almost two millennia. And properly hot. Ruarc wasn't particularly fond of hot weather, but it wouldn't be the first time a job has sent him to a desert. Resisting the urge to rummage through the maps, Ruarc settled back and enjoyed the relaxing atmosphere of Jane's home.