17th February 2013
14:20 GMT
'Hall' is right. The main building itself looks like an Iron Age longhouse, only better in the same way that Themysciran buildings are better than their actual Iron Age equivalents. Cernunnos has had thousands of years to work on the place after all, with all the skill and magic that he could bring to bear. But continuing the godly tradition of primitivism it's wood and stone and slate; no bricks or roofing tiles. And continuing the tradition of the Iron Age it's smaller than most modern primary schools.
The settlement around it continues the 'abandoned' theme of the villages nearby, except for a group of slightly oversized people sharing Brannan's build and… Yes, those are elves, wearing a glamour of ridiculous leaf-themed armour and generally looking like they've been heavily photoshopped. They'd probably look like beings of unearthly beauty to an Iron Age people, but between improved diets, makeup and the people I spend time with being at the end of the bell curve of attractiveness anyway-
M'gann glances at me with a smile.
-it doesn't really hit as hard. Plus, if I remember Sandman correctly they're all
pretty plain under the illusion.
**What? You are.
**
**I'm a shapeshifter who copied a human girl she saw on TV.**
**[
The systems of emotions and desires I see in the people around me.]
**
M'gann dips in the air in surprise, getting a
concerned look from Kon before she stabilises.
**Is that what we look like to you?**
**Unless I make an effort to ignore it. Though in point of fact, I've learned enough about Martian desires to know-
**
She goes pink.
**-that you're not exactly hard on the eyes in your default form either.
**
**We.. can shapeshift away the parts we don't like easier.**
"I will warn you, be careful with the elves." Mr. Marrack has lost whatever mildness his tone had before. "They are deceitful and capricious. Watch your manners and watch your words."
A round of nods and he leads the way down towards the great hall. As we land, an oversized man and women rush over to where I place the stretcher construct, the woman checking on Brannan and the man looking towards us -Mr. Marrak in particular- for an explanation.
"We were able to free him of the spell. He should awaken presently."
The man breathes a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Captain. I thought that we had lost him."
"We recovered
him. I have not found the rest, and will not rest until I
do."
"You have my people's gratitude." He looks around our group. "All of you do." His eyes rest on Robert's white-cross-on-black-background, his head nodding in acknowledgement.
"Has there been any further sign of the one who did that to him?"
The man shakes his head. "No sign. The ground does not remember their passing, nor the air remember their breaths. And more mundane searches showed nothing either." He turns his head towards the woman. "Eadgyth, is the boy well?"
"Better than he has any right to be. He fought holding naught back, surging his magic freely. He should be tired to the bone, but he breathes easily."
I nod.
"We used a minor restorative potion on him. Hopefully, we'll be able to question him about what happened.
"
"Aye." Brannan pulls himself into a sitting position, wincing as he does so. "That you can. That-. Voice. It was telling me-."
"That your life was inevitably self-destructive?
"
His eyes dart around as he tries to get his head around what happened to him. "It sounded like it made
sense."
Richard nods. "I know what you mean. I got hit a few weeks ago and it was… Like nothing had any.. real.. meaning."
"It had meaning. Whatever
he told me-."
He winces again, and Richard's eyes narrow.
"
Mannheim."
Brannan nods, slowly.
Robert frowns. "Great granddad, have they been building any… They look like radio towers, only the closer you get, the louder the Anti-Life is in your head."
"No. I have seen nothing like that. Otherworld may
look like Earth, but the rules by which it operates are subtly different. I don't think that they could simply bring their transmitters here and expect them to function in the same way."
"Are you sure?" His grandfather's face hardens. "I-I mean, they've been putting them in standing stone circles on Earth. I don't think they'd do that if they weren't getting something out of it."
"No. I don't suppose that they
would. There are connections from Otherworld to Earth, which the fae may use to travel or project their magics. But it is not a simple matter to use them in the manner you describe. Do they have a highly skilled magician would could manage the connection?"
Richard shakes his head. "Not as far as we know."
"One of the fae?"
…
Richard and I look at each other, coming to the realisation at the same time.
"
Speak."
"No. Not a fae, exactly. But there's a good chance that they could have picked up… They call themselves 'sheeda'.
"
"I care not for the court they hail from."
"No, they're-. They're from the far future. Humans with.. bits of other things added on. I don't know if fae was part of the makeup, but they definitely had a… Dark fairy aesthetic. Robert, where was Britain keeping their sheeda prisoners?
"
"We
were keeping them in a prison camp on Salisbury Plain. Then they got moved somewhere else." He shakes his head. "Dunno where."
"The same sort of 'dunno' like where the conspicuously absent government superhero team were based?
"
"I-. Maybe? Granddad, do you-?"
"Castle Baaleskein. The former owner was a minor magician, and he stated that he intended to leave it to the government to serve as a base of operations for supernatural operatives. It had the facilities to house a great many prisoners, though in my day it never had more than a handful. While its owner was there it was almost inviolable, but without him I could see it being breached by an intelligent foe."
"Alright then. Working theory is that sheeda have enough elf in them to use the fae-friendly connection points. How do we stop them?
"
Horns ring out in a cheerful and grandiose fanfare as the elves
march prance towards us, their blonde-haired leader grinning with a pompous smugness that looks weirdly out of place outside of a melodrama. It doesn't even annoy me, it's just too-.
Kon leans towards me.
"Is that guy for real?"
It's too
ridiculous-looking.
"Provisionally, yes."
An elven herald darts ahead and pulls out a scroll.
"Hail Lord Cluracan, sublime in grace and subtle in mien. Hail the ambassador of the Court of the Faerie!"
Their leader -Lord Cluracan, presumably- steps forward and takes a bow.
I clap, and after a moment so does the rest of my team.
He doesn't appear to get the joke.
Hopefully the Elves don't strain themselves trying to look that good.
