Play@YSDC

"It wouldn't hurt," says Henry. "We can make the arrangements when we go to get the iron. The blacksmith and ironmonger should have sufficient quantities for what I have in mind. Of course, if the fae lady can fly, 'tis all for naught."

jp1885 wrote:

"Nay kind sir, old Lepus be no burglar but merely a visitor, here to pay his respects to the fabled dweller in the mighty oak. Pray allow this humble intruder tarry a while to converse with thee? 'tis said that thou knowest a great many things - mayhap the true name of the fae lady whose minions doubtless disturb thy rest with their exploding spheres and wotnot?"

Somewhat mollified by this polite greeting, the yet unseen personage mumbles a bit and emerges from the darkness within the great oak. It proves to be a very small but perfectly formed old man, one as such may have amused monarchs in days of yore. His beard reaches down to his feet, although on a person of normal size, it would not be unusually long.

"You seem harmless enough, I suppose. Help me climb down, will you? I've a mind to see how the good green world is holding up these days." He extends his minuscule arms, in the manner of a young child expecting to be carried.

Meanwhile, as the other two adventurers continue their conversation, they bring to mind the fact that the Reverend Mister Frye is apt to be about the premises come Sabbath, and might be persuaded to assist, given sufficient explanation as to the reason.

Lepus helps the strange fellow, idly wondering what type of sprite he is as he does so.

“How might I address thee?” he asks.

"It seems this tree is home to someone else," says Henry when he sees the figure emerge, "not the lady as we thought."

jp1885 wrote:
Lepus helps the strange fellow, idly wondering what type of sprite he is as he does so.

“How might I address thee?” he asks.

Scampering to the ground with the little man firmly in his grasp, Lepus safely brings him to Earth.

"Finney McGonigle McGee, if you must know, my inquisitive friend. Thanks a-plenty for the ride. Takes the wind out of my lungs to get up and down these days. And who might you me, you great giant of a man? You and those other man-mountains standing there with you?"

Setting the little fellow down, Lepus bows.

"Well met; hailest thee from the Emerals Isle?. This poor fool be Lepus, the gallant soldier over there be Captain William Pallister and the learned gentleman be Dr. Henry North."

"We be here to protect the fine family who dwelleth in yon big house from the Fae Lady and her minions, who seek to destroy them."

The wanderer relays how the magical fish gave them an acorn as a clue to Poppy's real name, which led them to the great oak.

"We found these stones piled around your island. Evil things they be!"

"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. McGee," says Henry with a bow. "If you think we are tall, there is a man named Gogmagog who lives nearby that is as much taller than us as we are taller than you, if not moreso."

"Indeed, an honour to make your acquaintance," says William. "It is as your friend Lepus says. We are contesting with a lady of the Fey who means harm to the family who dwell on these lands."

After listening intently to all that has been related, McGee relates some of his own personal history. Being of a loquacious nature, with a lengthy anecdote as to how he acquired the gift of rhetoric by placing his lips upon the fabled Blarney Stone, this requires no little time. In brief, he did indeed first draw breath in Ireland, and lived there for many and many a year, making a living as a cobbler. Having accumulated some wealth through thrift, he retired from that noble trade and made his way to England. (Here follow a number of accounts relating the many adventures of that journey, as brief a voyage as it may seem to the adventurers.)

Astonished at the size of the local inhabitants, with a wordy aside relating them to the imagined Brobdingnagians of Dean Swift, whom the little fellow claims to have known intimately as a fellow countryman, and even to have inspired some of his writings, McGee decided that discretion was the better part of valor -- here his tale is interrupted by a long lecture, attempting to demonstrate that the Bard of Avon was, in fact, an Irishman -- and took to living a simple but comfortable life hiding in such places as the Great Oak.

"You've done me a good turn," he finally concludes. "'Tis true I've no love for the wicked and mischievous among the Fae Folks. How might I be of service to you?"

As the old man speaks of his Irish ancestry, William grows noticeably colder in demeanour, leaving further conversation with him to Lepus and Lord Dunwich.

"Tell us truly, dost thou know the true name of the Fae Lady?" Lepus inquires as he fishes out the tiny silver ring from a grubby pocket.

"This be a clue methinks, or mayhap payment for a small fellow in exchange for such knowledge?"

"The other clue to her name is an acorn," says Henry. "We'd also like to find out her current whereabouts."

The little fellow shakes his head sadly.

"Nothing I know about the Fair Folk hereabouts. If one of their queens bears you ill will, good luck be with you, say I. Faith, I'd not wish to face such a one with good Saint Pat at me side."

Studying the silver ring, he adds, "Pretty little thing, but not to me taste. You'd not have a wee bit of gold about you, would you?"

Noticing the disdain in William's frowning features, he whispers to the others, "What ails yon soldier lad? I'd not turn me back on him, and that's true."

“Psht, the officers of England have scant love of the sons of Eire, though they be content to fill their ranks with them,” Lepus says offhandedly.

“Such soldiers would be of use now: if we cannot learn the Fae Lady’s name then a great battle shall commence.” He points a bony finger at the stone piles. “See the size of her arsenal.”

“Thou live on this island of mysteries - be there anything thou can do to help us? Mayhap one of my fine companions has a gold coin to spare...”

"My best guess for her name, given the clues, is Silveroak," says Henry, "but it would be nice to confirm it before we try to use it." He fishes around in his coin purse and pulls out a golden coin, offering it to the diminutive man. "Will this do?"

"Aye, mayhap that be it..." mutters Lepus, not entirely convinced.

Grabbing the gold coin and securing in a pocket of his waistcoat with the speed and skill of a mountebank, the diminutive fellow grins widely and does a little dance.

"Sure, there's nothing like a bit o' gold to brighten a body's day. Now then, my fine fellows, shall we make plans for battle?"

It seems that the sight of the yellow metal has raised the little man's spirits to a considerable degree, transforming an overly cautious nature into one more bold.

“Seems there be little choice but to fight, so aye!”

Lepus details there plans so far, to wit: circling the island, or at least the stone piles, with iron.

He will also suggest that all inhabitants of the house and estate carry an iron horseshoe and pin a copy of the rune that banishes restless spirits to their clothing, lest the Fae Lady has recruited the ghosts of the drowned cultists.

“Let us also melt down iron and silver for bullets and knives - there be no telling what creatures we will face. Oh, and keep some of these grenadoe-stones for ourselves, to fight foes of flesh and blood.”

“What else, fellows?

"That sounds a good plan to me," says Henry. "We may also wish to consult the library while the iron is being prepared. There could be references to the lady in some of the books if she is connected to this area."

"Iron nails across the windows and doors of the house," adds William. "We must also be prepared for resitance from Lord Highdark - thus far he has been predisposed to resist any mention of preternatural matters until the moment of crisis."