Exton

The Hound had found him moments before setting foot into the Shadow Path. The demifae clinging to its wirey ruff is local, one of the Human realm. It buzzes, nearly hysterical, about blue men in the woods and Wish stalking them with a kitchen knife. Keon lays a hand on the Hound's head and is given an image of the Drow. Mab's Bane have crossed to this Realm. He figures it is for one reason, and only one.

His cell phone is at his ear before he even thinks. It rings on the other end, the answering machine picking up before anyone can get to it. Keon begins stripping down to jeans and boots as he waits for the message to end. Checking his blade and knives, he whispers into his phone.

"Drow. Cabin. Come ASAP."

He clicks it off and tosses the phone to Guunnar as Torrent and Twillon slip from the shadows. Their original intent being to head for the Tavern, the word Drow has them checking their own weapons. Tork announces his arrival with a low growl as Weebit pulls a steel hat pin. There is a look to Keon that has not been seen since he met Cassandra. Dark energies seem to flicker under his skin, sparking in ebony flashes with each movement.

Guunnar raises the cell. "I call Silk."

"No. Mistress Leather has no place in this foray." He gestures to the assembled Fae, the movement leaving a trail of dark light. "This is a Dark Lord matter."

Weebit guides Tork upwards so she can speak with the towering Viking. Her voice is piping, the trill of a songbird. "Tell Ob. He will spread the word. Keep the others on their patrols." She smiles, the sweet expression somehow scary on her diminuitive face. "Besides... we have the locals and Wish and Pike. Keon will have an army of unseen, even to the Drow." She grins, "The forest loves Star."

She yips to Tork and her dragon zips away. Fanning out, the four Fae and Hound warily cross onto the Shadow Path. When nothing attacks, Keon motions and the groups races silently toward the crossing in the cabin's woodlands.

The Hound slips through, then is soon back, huffing slightly. Keon nods and the Dark Lords cloak themselves in the night. Keon strides boldly along the dirt path, letting the others melt away. Twillon and Weebit begin to circle to the left, Torrent and the Hound to the right. The little demifa, flits high into the trees and darts along the branches, bringing word to her own that the night now has more to protect their chosen Lady.

A tap overhead brings Keon's attention. Pike peers from between the autumn leaves. He grins at Keon and slips away, making nary a rustle. There is a flash of blue among the trees, pacing the Dark Sidhe as he strolls along the path. The Drow steps out, barring Keon's way.

"Who walks this Night?"

Keon smiles, a mere curl of his lips. "*An Dorchadais walks where it will, Drow. What brings you to My presence?"

"What, are you Lord of these Woods? Where do your allegiances lie, dog? Are you of one of Mab's puppies, or the Bright," He spits on the ground. "Court's lackeys? Even better... An exile in this waste of a Realm."

Keon raises a brow and the Drow laughs. He readies his blade waiting for Keon to strike at the insult. When Keon makes no move the Drow chuckles, muttering about useless warrior wannabes. Taking a step forward, the Drow raises his sword for a cutting blow. His eyes go wide and the blue-skinned Fae drops. He twitches once, twice, as blood soaks along the back of his shirt.

Two Hell Hounds slink from the underbrush, pulling the corpse away. Several Demifae hover, putting the path back to rights. They wait a few moments until Keon nods to them, then flit away. Above him, Pike pulls out another twig and runs his hands along it, lengthening and hardening the little bit of wood into another weapon. Barefoot, the Wyldfae disappears among the leaves.

The Drow begin to find their way blocked. What looks to be easy passage is now thick patches of thorns. Vines slither across their paths, snagging at carefully placed feet. Several mutter, unease creeping in their wake. The forest is no longer the peaceful place they entered. Something has changed.

On the night breeze there is a soft whisper, a woman's soft laughter. Sing Song, the words can just be made out.

"The Darkness guards the Star... come dance... come dance..."

Keon smiles, listening to Wish's call, knowing she is working on someone's fear of their Lady's dark nature. The magic in her voice works on her intended victims, but any who hears her dreamlike call can't resist the tremor that skitters along the spine. He can only thank his patron Goddess and Herne that HE is not her chosen target.


*The Darkness