#bergen_county

While this is happening, Symon is not sitting idle. No, he is making his way to where the Balor knight is being detained. He will sneak in, if possible, to that chamber...

The balor knight's cell is not comfy, nor particularly lavish despite his title or kith; Gwydions don't like the Unseelie houses, so this balor is in a clean but spartan stone room. Getting to him does require slipping past one troll guard, but it must be said the dutiful troll is wistfully trying to hear not intruders but the comeptitioin beyond

A whisper floats through the chamber, a soft rustle like graveyard leaves that barely breaks the silence. Symon hides in the shadows, tucked into a high corner, his toes and fingers making it easy to cling like an insect.

"You came to kill her. A coward’s plan—a quiet toxin to cloud her senses, to make her fall, helpless.”

The balor looks up and strains "What?"

"Quiet back there," The troll guard says to the Balor

The cold whisper continues. "I could respect treachery, if it were crafted with skill, cleverness—for a proper cause. But you, you made a grave mistake.”

"You don't hear that?" The Balor wishes he had his weapon

The troll guard, further up says "Thanks to your big mouth, I can't hear the scoring. Stop faking bedlam, you KNOW what you did"

The balor hisses, "One does what one has to do to win" Whether he is hissing at the whisper or the troll is hard to say

"And yet, You targeted Dagmar.” There’s a chill to the whisper. "She is stronger than you will ever be, not just because of her own courage, her own strength, but because she has earned loyalty. She has friends who stand behind her. Friends you cannot break, nor buy, nor poison."

The balor snaps "Yes yes, thank you for the lecture... the power of friendship, how droll!"

Symon’s voice sharpens, taking on a grim finality.

"You’re fortunate I’m giving you a chance to make this right,” he says, his voice a dark murmur. “Because if I were to come for you, I would not use iocaine. No.”

His whispers seems to come from different corners, or all around the Balor.

"Imagine instead, Blackwort,” he murmurs, voice as cold as a crypt. "It’s subtle—hours pass before it starts, and when it does, you’d feel it deep, a sickening burn as it eats you from the inside. It leaves a man begging, long before the end.”

Symon's tone almost... clinical. "Or the Silence Draft—a choice that traps the soul inside a helpless body. You’d lie there, aware of every sound, every flicker of light, yet unable to scream, unable to so much as blink. A fate that can go on as long as I choose."

He lets the silence between them deepen, his next words laced with an unsettling calm.

"Then, of course, there’s Wither’s Bane," he continues. "Slow, insidious. Day by day, it drains the strength from your bones and mind, piece by piece, until you can barely remember who you were."

(Manipulation plus Intimidation, or best guess, Diff 5 as clearly our sluagh has done his homework)

/roll 5 5 explode (Using WP, Manip specialty "menacing")

/roll 6

(1 Success for Creeping Shadows, Autumn Art)

The balor pales even more and paces, looking for the source of the whisper "Guard? GUARD! I'm not safe here. I'm not SAFE!"

The troll guard does investigate, that is.. he takes a bucket of cold water and splashes the Balor "COOL OFF!"

There is an actual laugh, truly amused, though it rattles faintly like bones in a cup. The water drips down for a moment, soaking the Balor, and then starts to solidify - frost creeping over his skin and shirt, an icy chill that makes the Sidhe shiver. It's not enough to actually hurt the man, no, not even frost bite, but deeply uncomfortable to be sure...

Symon continues after a moment of silence. "So here’s what you’ll do. You will stand before the Gwydion Count, and you will confess to your cowardice, your intent to harm her. You will apologize to Dagmar—in full, where every word rings true. If you think to lie or to cheat your way out, then you and I will meet again."

"And know this: I will show you what true poison is. So consider this my kindness, this offer. Whether you accept it, well... that's up to you."

the balor gasps as the mild drenching turns to the sort of cold that goes right to the bone and lingers, sapping warmth with casual cruelty. Oh no true harm, but it is indeed uncomfortable... and more than that, utterly inescapably unnerving, a reminder tthat even one of the Shining Host has reason to fear

His teeth chatter "g-go-go away"

Symon’s smile deepens, his voice a low murmur.

"Go away?" he repeats, almost gently. "I don’t need to be present to watch you."

Silence falls back over the cell, and somehow the shadows seem to lessen, though the cold chill remains yet for a time.

And the balor shivers helplessly, indeed, accuately aware of just how helpless he really is... how unsafe, and why he might just want to give that apology.

Then there is the squire, who it was hard to get a look at... armored up with cowl and leathers. WHo is actually treated to a nicer spot as a mere childling

From outside the cell, a decidedly more friendly voice speaks up.

"It doesn't look all that comfortable in there." The voice of the pooka is actually sympathetic.

A muffled response? Something hinders the figure speaking "sucks"

The word IS heard, Connor's ear perks and picks it up, but yup, we got a mumbler?

"I can't hear you very well. Why don't you come over by here? I brought some snacks." Indeed, the smell of pumpkin cookies reaches the mumbler.

There's almost an audible whimper at the smell, and the childling, it must be a childling or a wilder of a very short kith, stumbles over to sniff at it...

Connor peers forward to get a look at them.

At first Connor might think she's a boggan, for she is a pudgy sort of thing... but once he gets a look at the face under the cowl, he sees that it is a redcap , the bloodshot eyes, the almost skeletal nose but the mouth can't be seen well for it is covered in.. a MUZZLE. Oh it doesn't obscure all, and bits of cookie can be pushed through the bars of it, but still, "give?" She says as nice as her kith can manage

He frowns. He considers for a moment, then offers, "If you promise - PROMISE not to bite me? I'll take off that collar. I mean, of course, it is a very fetching collar, you know, if it's special to you I don't mean to insult it, but it looks like it might be tough to eat with it on."

At the notion someone might REMOVE It, she mumbles "for reals?" Hope in her eyes

"I do not like collars like that." His fierce attestation even overwhelming his pooka ban. "Though it looks very nice on you." He can't help but add.

Briar once had her mouth tied up, she didn't like it, but that was for different reasons. Wait, what are the reasons for THIS girl?

Briar, bless her soul, was a biter. Connor tries not to think of the teeth behind THIS muzzle.

"I hate it" the girl manages "I promise not to bite you ..today" deciding she can't be sure "just ..try not to smell too good. I get hungry" she admits slowly, each word having to be shaped in that contraption

"I'm sorry, I'll stop using the vanilla soap." His tail gives a tentative wag. and he reaches through into the cell to see if he can figure out how the muzzle is attached. Connor DOES have a little pocket knife, as is proper for rough and tumble boykins.

With over a hundred options on his pocket knife (Okay, less than that) , the pooka manages to find the slot and sort of 'unscrew' the screw bolting one side. Then she turns the other cheek, a rarity in redcaps, and he unscrews the other. There is a clank and the muzzle falls to the ground "OH THANK GOODNESS, now gimmie the cookie I'm STARVING"

Connor does, he actually gives her the entire packet, and with only a moment's pause, he gives her his lunchbag as well. A porkchop sandwich, apple, juice box

"What's your name? I'm..." He pauses, then says, "Lord Howlington, Esquire. Are you a Squire too? That makes us part of the same club!"

She takes the packet and shoves it in her mouth, chewing messily and happily, then takes the lunch bag and eats it too,. It goes quick , "SO good... I'm not really a squire by title" She answers that first "Just the job.. my old corby had a debt to the balor so used me to pay it...sucks too. He was a jerk, he'd never had slapped me upside the head if I didn't have that muzzle on." Then she says "I'm Swill, or Swilla if you prefer.. later sounds more feminine" She burps loudly

"They traded you for a debt?" He sounds rather surprised. "That's rude."

"I thought so," The pudgy girl admits, "I THINK it's illegal, but caps don't always care about legal." She licks her lips, then says "Kolfax was a jerk, only fed me three meals a day. Who can LIVE on that?"

"Hardly!" Connor agrees. "Why, even our horses get fed more than that. And I bet you do a lot of hard work as a squire, huh? Did ol' Sir Dimwand have you take care of his horses, too? And his gear, lances and stuff? I have to do that work for MY Knight, but I don't mind so much."

"Well, the muzzle might be smart around the horses" She concedes, "That's a lot of meat. Yeah, I worked hard. Fetched stuff. Shined his stupid armor. if I didn't he just dictumed me anyway" A sullen look at that, then she says "Anyway, thanks Lord Howlington, you're okay and I owe you"