10-22-2021, 06:58 PM
Presumably deep in his devotion to save his soul, Father Mathew Jacobs considered peeking out from his closed-eyed praying
and checking on the blasphemous happenings in this current bottomless pit that was disguised as a quiet knoll. Daring himself
and using the need to see Peggy Powler's sacrilegious interaction with one of Satan's minions for enhancing any future pulpit
sermons, the terrified man opened one eye at the scene before him.
"Ye'll be Mr Goodfella' and Ah'm pleased te' see thee agin'..." the last Witch of Underhill greeted the seated being staring at her
kneeling companion. "...Ah've come te' seek lore that can fix a bit of a bind Ah'm in" she offered with a slight smile.
The tousle-haired tutelary of the countryside slowly turned his attention away from the lip-moving Priest and eyed the bare-footed
woman holding a large hat with light confusion. He recalled meeting her before, but never in the presence of a human.
This was highly unusual during one of these consultations -to say the least.
"It has been a while" Puck declared evenly and with a nod of his horned-head, went back to scrutinising the strange man in the
dark clothes. Peggy realised that Father Jacobs' company may not have been a good idea, but she pressed-on with her request.
"Aye...Aye, yer' reet there, but Ah'm not one fur' botherin' yer', knowin' how busy yer' get, like" she explained and felt her need
to be polite waning.
Puck was more intent of watching the pleading vicar than answering her request and so in typical Powler-fashion, she put her foot
down, albeit a dirty one. "Listen yer' bugger, there's an 'orrible Barguest out there and he's gettin' braver every minute, Ah' need te'
know where he is" Peggy snarled at the astonished deity of the woods. But what happened next, shocked Peggy as much as Robin
Goodfellow.
"By He who is true, answer her, you devil!" Father Jacobs shouted confidently and with a slight wobble, got to his feet. The familiar
surroundings shimmered again as he was unknowingly testing the alternative reality parameters that Peggy's spell had created.
"We came here to seek a way of ridding Little Compton of this curse and and all you can do his mock our appeal" Mathew stated
as he closed the space between himself and his surprised wide-eyed audience.
Puck suddenly stood up on his hooved feet and seemed to recoil from the Preacher's approach, this certainly wasn't the manner
he'd been accustomed to. "Stay thy hand, holy-man... my counsel is free, there is no need to altercate with violence" the Hobgoblin
said nervously and looked to the sorceress for support.
"Whey, it's just the swallers' are gatherin' on the wire -so te' speak and we need to catch this monster a'fore he kills once more..."
Peggy replied as Father Jacobs halted his advance. "...So can yer' help us?" she added and moved to stand next to the parson
breathing heavily through his nose.
Robin Goodfellow bowed slightly and the pointed a long-nailed finger behind the oddly-paired couple. "What you seek is there,
on water it will guide you to who you seek" he said in an authoritative tone and when Peggy and Mathew looked to where the
sprite of the forest was gesturing, their bubble of majick simply faded.
The uncultivated glade was just the same, but the air moved and somewhere far off, a crow called to its partner. "I... don't...?"
the confused Preacher said and returned his eyes to where Puck had been sitting. Now, only the remains of a crumbling tree stump
resided on the rise of the mound and if one squinted, it did look vaguely like a diminutive Faerie-creature that's often told about in
children's bedtime stories.
Peggy -instead, peered at the golden needle sitting on a green leaf, the former very strange and the latter unusual for this time of
the year. Carefully picking up the two objects, the bemused Witch muttered "Ah' think we'll be needin' to use one of those puddles
yer've been collectin' in yer' village".
...................................................
It was Lady Ophelia who saw the two figures making their way across the field that would bring them next to the muddy track that
her Butler was failing to negotiate correctly. She'd earlier wondered if it had been better if she'd taken the reins -herself and steer
the cart on a more easier voyage, but decided that it would be just another labour that she'd have to undertake and reinforce the
notion that Carstairs wasn't really needed.
"Stop the curricle" Ophelia barked and before her fatigued servant had a chance to respond, the woman had leapt onto the grass
verge and was standing -hands on hips, looking out at Father Jacobs and someone who looked a little like the poacher she'd seen
a few nights ago.
"I say, Carstairs..." the lady of Barque Manor remarked to the man struggling to detrain from the carriage, "...isn't that the scallywag
who Firebrand had a run-in with?"
...................................................
"I must admit, Father... this all seems a little polytheist, wouldn't you agree?" the excited woman in the bottom-hugging breeches
asked as she bent over the oily-surfaced puddle. Carstairs fastened the gelding to a rickety piece of fencing and then warily stepped
over the ruts in the mud to accompany his Mistress.
The recent heated exchange between the woman who'd given him an alleged cure for the wolfhound and Lady Ophelia had left
the Butler even more exhausted than when he'd set out this morning, but at least it was over and whatever heathen activity that
person on the wide-rimmed hat was up to now, didn't involve himself. Still, how his dogmatic employer had yielded so easily to
the smaller woman's discourse was something he was puzzled with and slightly envious of.
Father Jacobs looked up from his bent position over the dirty water and offered the stooped noble woman a candid gaze.
"We need to stop the monster that attacked your dogs and killed Martha Dinsdale..." he said with a note of determination,
"...if that calls for us to seek godless means to our end, then so be it" and received a glance of admiration from the Witch
next to him.
"Reet... here we go" whispered Peggy and placed the leaf into the dark pool of water. Looking at each of the participants of this
magical experience, she then gently dropped the golden needle onto the floating sycamore frond. Father Jacobs, Lady Ophelia
and Carstairs sucked in their breath as the flaxen arrow slowly moved its boat in the stained puddle and rested when it finally
pointed west.
"Gotcha, yer bugger" Peggy hissed and everyone was surprised when the tall woman in the riding boots stood to her height and
softly growled "Then there's not a moment to lose, Carstairs... take the buggy home, there's a hunt afoot!".
and checking on the blasphemous happenings in this current bottomless pit that was disguised as a quiet knoll. Daring himself
and using the need to see Peggy Powler's sacrilegious interaction with one of Satan's minions for enhancing any future pulpit
sermons, the terrified man opened one eye at the scene before him.
"Ye'll be Mr Goodfella' and Ah'm pleased te' see thee agin'..." the last Witch of Underhill greeted the seated being staring at her
kneeling companion. "...Ah've come te' seek lore that can fix a bit of a bind Ah'm in" she offered with a slight smile.
The tousle-haired tutelary of the countryside slowly turned his attention away from the lip-moving Priest and eyed the bare-footed
woman holding a large hat with light confusion. He recalled meeting her before, but never in the presence of a human.
This was highly unusual during one of these consultations -to say the least.
"It has been a while" Puck declared evenly and with a nod of his horned-head, went back to scrutinising the strange man in the
dark clothes. Peggy realised that Father Jacobs' company may not have been a good idea, but she pressed-on with her request.
"Aye...Aye, yer' reet there, but Ah'm not one fur' botherin' yer', knowin' how busy yer' get, like" she explained and felt her need
to be polite waning.
Puck was more intent of watching the pleading vicar than answering her request and so in typical Powler-fashion, she put her foot
down, albeit a dirty one. "Listen yer' bugger, there's an 'orrible Barguest out there and he's gettin' braver every minute, Ah' need te'
know where he is" Peggy snarled at the astonished deity of the woods. But what happened next, shocked Peggy as much as Robin
Goodfellow.
"By He who is true, answer her, you devil!" Father Jacobs shouted confidently and with a slight wobble, got to his feet. The familiar
surroundings shimmered again as he was unknowingly testing the alternative reality parameters that Peggy's spell had created.
"We came here to seek a way of ridding Little Compton of this curse and and all you can do his mock our appeal" Mathew stated
as he closed the space between himself and his surprised wide-eyed audience.
Puck suddenly stood up on his hooved feet and seemed to recoil from the Preacher's approach, this certainly wasn't the manner
he'd been accustomed to. "Stay thy hand, holy-man... my counsel is free, there is no need to altercate with violence" the Hobgoblin
said nervously and looked to the sorceress for support.
"Whey, it's just the swallers' are gatherin' on the wire -so te' speak and we need to catch this monster a'fore he kills once more..."
Peggy replied as Father Jacobs halted his advance. "...So can yer' help us?" she added and moved to stand next to the parson
breathing heavily through his nose.
Robin Goodfellow bowed slightly and the pointed a long-nailed finger behind the oddly-paired couple. "What you seek is there,
on water it will guide you to who you seek" he said in an authoritative tone and when Peggy and Mathew looked to where the
sprite of the forest was gesturing, their bubble of majick simply faded.
The uncultivated glade was just the same, but the air moved and somewhere far off, a crow called to its partner. "I... don't...?"
the confused Preacher said and returned his eyes to where Puck had been sitting. Now, only the remains of a crumbling tree stump
resided on the rise of the mound and if one squinted, it did look vaguely like a diminutive Faerie-creature that's often told about in
children's bedtime stories.
Peggy -instead, peered at the golden needle sitting on a green leaf, the former very strange and the latter unusual for this time of
the year. Carefully picking up the two objects, the bemused Witch muttered "Ah' think we'll be needin' to use one of those puddles
yer've been collectin' in yer' village".
...................................................
It was Lady Ophelia who saw the two figures making their way across the field that would bring them next to the muddy track that
her Butler was failing to negotiate correctly. She'd earlier wondered if it had been better if she'd taken the reins -herself and steer
the cart on a more easier voyage, but decided that it would be just another labour that she'd have to undertake and reinforce the
notion that Carstairs wasn't really needed.
"Stop the curricle" Ophelia barked and before her fatigued servant had a chance to respond, the woman had leapt onto the grass
verge and was standing -hands on hips, looking out at Father Jacobs and someone who looked a little like the poacher she'd seen
a few nights ago.
"I say, Carstairs..." the lady of Barque Manor remarked to the man struggling to detrain from the carriage, "...isn't that the scallywag
who Firebrand had a run-in with?"
...................................................
"I must admit, Father... this all seems a little polytheist, wouldn't you agree?" the excited woman in the bottom-hugging breeches
asked as she bent over the oily-surfaced puddle. Carstairs fastened the gelding to a rickety piece of fencing and then warily stepped
over the ruts in the mud to accompany his Mistress.
The recent heated exchange between the woman who'd given him an alleged cure for the wolfhound and Lady Ophelia had left
the Butler even more exhausted than when he'd set out this morning, but at least it was over and whatever heathen activity that
person on the wide-rimmed hat was up to now, didn't involve himself. Still, how his dogmatic employer had yielded so easily to
the smaller woman's discourse was something he was puzzled with and slightly envious of.
Father Jacobs looked up from his bent position over the dirty water and offered the stooped noble woman a candid gaze.
"We need to stop the monster that attacked your dogs and killed Martha Dinsdale..." he said with a note of determination,
"...if that calls for us to seek godless means to our end, then so be it" and received a glance of admiration from the Witch
next to him.
"Reet... here we go" whispered Peggy and placed the leaf into the dark pool of water. Looking at each of the participants of this
magical experience, she then gently dropped the golden needle onto the floating sycamore frond. Father Jacobs, Lady Ophelia
and Carstairs sucked in their breath as the flaxen arrow slowly moved its boat in the stained puddle and rested when it finally
pointed west.
"Gotcha, yer bugger" Peggy hissed and everyone was surprised when the tall woman in the riding boots stood to her height and
softly growled "Then there's not a moment to lose, Carstairs... take the buggy home, there's a hunt afoot!".
Edith Head Gives Good Wardrobe.