Exton

The hood of his cloak hides the sunlit strands that have escaped his braided hair.

Twillon strides through the shadows, another dark spirit among so many haunting the streets this night. His Magick picks out the Hounds and Dark Lords ensuring safety from the Shadow Paths.

His training makes him aware of the Others keeping watch on their town. Shifters are out, stalking alleyways in their true shapes. Man-sized rats watch along the homeless huddled in their camp near the underpass. It had surprised him to see them shy away from the Humans, but to accept these Ratmen as normal. Himself, only a few notice.

From those, he catches bits of wild magic. They avoid his gaze, staring after him as he passes. Yet the Troll moves among them as if he were one of them.

The orange fur is matted, hanging from under the knit cap in long dreadlocks. The coat that drapes over its form is tattered and does nothing to disguise its difference. An old woman stops it, offering a long strip of something. It reaches into one of what seems to be many pockets and pulls out a sandwich, making the trade. The woman scuttles into her hut, unwrapping the sandwich and breaking it in half. It is only then that he sees the other occupant. A throwback, someone who couldn't take a human enough form to pass among the rank and file of everyday town life. Twillon hides a smile, thinking to himself that Exton is indeed a nexus of outcasts.

"Rah'sha Twillon. I see the Shadows still."

The guttural voice is quiet, yet firm. Twillon stills, fingers stretching as he readies a spell. He turns slowly, finding the troll downwind and close enough to attack. For all their size and bulk, they are quick creatures. The orange fur and gnarled green skin mark it as a Highlander, the scholars of the Troll breeds.

"You have me at a disadvantage." Twillon's voice is smooth, the tone soft as a whisper, yet deadly as a viper. His fingers tingle with the gathering magic.

The Troll spreads its massive hands in a gesture of peace. "Harm ye none, and nay harm to ye."

Twillons relaxes his hands, feeling the power settle like a warm band in each wrist. He knows if he needs to call, it is ready. Hands slipping inside the sleeves of his cloak, he bows to the Troll. His fingers curl around the shafts of the daggers bound to his forearms.

"You have my calling, and what is yours?"

"They call me Pat. Dealg Drubh will vouch for me. He knows old Patra well." The Troll looks around, then begins to walk slowly. "Come, walk with me, I am missing some people, and wonder if that is why you, and the others, have come."

They pass along the bridge and a high-pitched whistle attracts their attention. Pat waits as a shifter steps from the shadows, a blanket wrapped tight around her naked form.

"Found Yip. He's at the Stone Snake's. She fed him. He sleeps now, will help watch town. The Wild Pair is missing, their trail ended, no blood though. Just... gone."

Twillon listens to the report. When the girl crawls into a box and curls up to sleep, he asks Pat, "Wild Pair?"

The Troll nods, pulling a thermos from his coat. He stops by a hut that is covered by a blanket. Coughing sounds from within. Pat mutters something and a grey-skinned hand reaches out through a gap. He hands it the thermos and moves on.

"Yeah... Wyld Fae. They came here years ago. Longer than I can remember. The were following a trail, an essence. Of a mind to protect the One they said. But the trail disappeared. Likes the One didna want to be found." It rubs a great finger across its massive nose. "They are Piskies, Welshers." He nods his head slowly as they reach the end of the "camp". He looks out into the dark. "They can take care of themselves. But I still worry." He turns, looking back over the cardboard box city.

"If you see them... tell them that?" Twillon nods. "They are old. Old magicks given life. Don't know how they do it, living among all this iron and steel." He shakes his massive head. "Just be safe little Fae..."He turns to Twillon. "Right, then... I'll watch for any others who walk this way. Thanks for the eyes that help now."

He turns, and without another word, the Troll makes his way back, checking on one here, another there...