"Then I'm sure she won't mind a fair trade. Who is this Marzalee, and where can I find her?" Iris asked, idly wondering if this was what mortals felt like when she told them to go do something.
"She makes her home in the Mammolds, on the southwest area of this demiplane. You'll have to pass back through the Briar to get there, of course, but the Rabbit Prince should be willing to accommodate you. Quickest route will take you through the Carnival."
"Lovely." Iris answered blandly. "And is it true that I will need a token from the carnival's overseer to reach my destination?" If she could avoid getting it directly, things would be much easier.
"Unless you possess divinations greater than those of the creator of this realm, I'd imagine so."
"I see. Well, he's been a rather less than pleasant fellow. I don't suppose you know of anybody who could convince him to give up his token, and then pass it on to me?"
"Honestly, I'm too busy with my work here to travel outside my domain. If I remember correctly, he took the tongue, so he's an intractable liar. Perhaps you can use that to your advantage. A 'battle of wits,' if you will."
Iris snorted slightly. She was a goddess - if such things were to happen with an ultimately mortal creature, she'd be setting the rules, not playing by their own. (There were good reasons for that, actually. If mortals felt they could dictate everything, you'd have a billion billion people all crying out to you at once, each seeking to twist things in the way most advantageous to them. The gods didn't play by the rules - they chose them.)
"I suppose I shall be off, then. And in the meantime, I'll leave two of these pieces of quartz here - with the rest to be delivered when I receive your token." It rarely hurt to provide people with an added reason to want your safe return.
The briars are just as twisted and mazelike as before, but the talkative Rabbit Prince soon appears to lead you through hidden shortcuts.
Greasy smoke reeking of soot and rendered fat belches forth from the twin chimneys high above this imposing manor. Dozens of tall windows, all barred and boarded, adorn this formerly beautiful estate, but peeling paint and crumbled ornaments testify to its disuse.
Now here's a place that could use some light. Iris thought, looking at the manor. Shrugging, she headed towards its gates - or front door, if there were no gates - to knock and see who was home. Some people liked to sneak around at times like this, but she was the morning light - she preferred a more direct approach.
The front doors slowly creak open at your touch. Inside, you see a dark lobby cluttered with a half-dozen wax mannequins. A brass plaque hangs from the wall. It reads, "Visitors will be scalded." You see two potential exits to the south - and a cleverly-concealed door hidden on the north wall.
Iris raised an eyebrow at the threat. "That's no way to treat a guest." she told the sign. "A violation of hospitality would be most... disappointing." With that, she headed into the chamber, and idly tapped the middle of the hidden door with her staff.
All of the doors in this room (including the hidden one) are unlocked and untrapped.
Tapping the secret door had mostly been to let anyone watching know she was perfectly aware of it. She liked to keep people at least a little unsteady, especially in realms like this... if they didn't think they were in total control of the situation, they were much less likely to be... hasty. Instead, she went for the second exit to the south.
The door opens to reveal a dead-end right before concealed steam jets spray the entire area.
Iris sidestepped the worst of the steam, right before tapping her staff on the ground and sending a bit of healing into her body. When that was done, she pointed her staff at the jets and let loose a blast of destructive energy, quite intentionally trying to break them so they couldn't hurt others.
It takes a few more dead-ends (and corresponding bursts of steam) before you figure out the trick to navigating Marzalee's lair. The secret doors provide safe passage through the maze of dead ends. In the center of the building, you find a vast workshop. Noxious fumes emanate from four enormous vats of molten wax, tools and half-finished mannequins crowd the floor and hang from the ceiling, and several tables hold squirming worms the size of a man's arm. Busily working here is an extremely large ant queen. She's in the process of dipping the grubs into molten wax and sculpting them in various humanoid shapes. As you enter the room, she gestures, and enormous wax golems rise from the vats and lumber toward you.
The golems lumber forward, still dripping molten wax from their limbs. As soon as they're within range, they begin to swing at you.
As the golems moved to attack her, Iris took the blows and winced as they hit a little harder than she liked. She took a step backwards to get out of their reach, then Warped over to the queen. <"I'd appreciate it if you could call them off. I'm not here to hurt you, and I'm sure replacing those would be... inconvenient... for you."> she said in Sylvan, the language she figured it was most likely the insectoid recognized.
The golems are obviously constructs, but the fact that they're entirely composed of molten wax makes them more dangerous than a standard bruiser-type. Their touch is extremely hot, and if they get a solid hit on you, the sticky wax may hold you firmly in their grip.
The ant queen clashes her mandibles at you before lashing out with a large red scepter. She doesn't seem to understand what you're saying, and the fact that she begins to back away implies she continues to see you as a threat.
The attack hit Iris across the face... and she simply turned to present her other cheek before stepping aside and raising her staff. "It's a little inconvenient if you can't understand me." she noted in Common, idly wondering if she should add a translation effect to her staff. That might make things easier in the future. In the meantime, however, she sent a Haste spell over the queen. If the insectoid felt faster, stronger, and more protected, she was more likely to realize her error and see Iris as a friend instead of a foe... or so Iris hoped. She certainly had no intention of killing a mortal creature over an apparent misunderstanding, and even animals could recognize when they were being helped.
The large ant steeled her body against your magical assault ... and then stopped in surprise when your spell proved to be beneficial. "What sort of assassin makes her target stronger? Is this some kind of honor ritual?" The golems move in closer around you but don't immediately attack. It seems you've confused their mistress.
"And what, pray tell, makes you think I'm an assassin?" Iris asked, looking down at her body. Her overall outfit was bold and colorful, her staff glimmered with light, and there were no poisons to be seen. One could argue that the best assassins didn't look anything like the traditional image - although the Red Mantis was said image for a reason - but there was something to be said for not trying to get people's attention when you were trying to kill them. "I'm just here to negotiate with the master of this place on a personal matter, and I'd rather not have to kill anyone along the way."
The golems relax slightly as the ant chattered her mandibles and returned to her work. "It seems I misunderstood the situation, then. Why do you want to negotiate with me?"
"Because like most people who are interested in negotiating, there is something I want - specifically, to help two mortals who are in a bit over their heads - and I'm willing to pay a fair price for what I need." Iris said, idly casting healing magic over herself (as she'd continue to do until she had fully recovered). "Are assassins a problem for you? I have no desire to harm you, myself, but if someone else did, they might be able to use teleportation to circumvent your guards as easily as I did. If you'd like, I could give you some advice for thwarting such things." Those who felt they were in danger tended to appreciate help getting out of it - and receiving a beneficial spell would probably further cement the idea of Iris as someone who was interested in helping.
(Which, to be fair, was true. Taking people from dark and fearful places to relaxation and hope was one of her fields of interest. The actual form of said person was basically irrelevant. She'd had worshipers on pretty much every world with a sunrise, and they came in much stranger forms than insectoid.)
"Some of the Conspirators steal my brood whenever they see an opportunity. If you're not here for that, we can do business."
Oddly, the ant queen didn't seem particularly interested in your offer to improve her defenses.
"Would you be interested in trade instead?" Iris inquired. "One of your fellows seeks six grubs, and if they are yours to trade, perhaps we can reach an agreement. Ah, and before you ask, I am no thief either. Stealing is repugnant to me - I care only for a trade that is fair and accepted on both sides."
"My grubs are not commodities to be traded or sold. But if you slay the Nightpeddler and the Ticktock Man, I will help you with what you need."
Iris raised an eyebrow. "Was any part of 'I am not an assassin' unclear?" she inquired. "If so, I apologize, since I did not mean to be less than wholly understood on that point. I did come here to assist some mortals, but murdering others to accomplish that rather defeats the purpose. Is there something reasonable you would accept?" People often said that it was up to the gods to decide who lived and who died, but as far as Iris was concerned, mortal life (including that of fey beings) was generally equal. Aside from things in her immediate purview (guiding revolutionaries, for example), she tried to avoid exchanging one life for another. Pharasma would judge all in time, and to support free will, sometimes the only light that could be offered was the hope of a pleasant afterlife.
"It's only murder if the victim is innocent - and the Nightpeddler and the Ticktock Man are anything but. Besides, once they're dead, I'll bring them back. That IS my role here, after all."
Iris raised an eyebrow. "We appear to have different definitions of the term, then. To clarify, I have no particular desire to kill people who are not intentionally threatening me. Of course, there are places in the realms where the cycle of life differs. What exactly is your role?"
"I took the hands, so that made me the Weaver of Life. Whenever a storykin dies, I rebirth and rebuild it. Thus, the endless cycle continues."
"Thus are all reborn by the cycle of souls." Iris noted, a faint note of sorrow in her tone. "But the rebirth of the fallen does not excuse harm done in the here and now. All have the right to try and live the full length of their lives. Protecting yourself is one thing, but specifically killing others for your own benefit is wrong. If that is the only thing you are willing to accept, I do not think we will be able to come to an agreement. That is... unfortunate."
The ant queen chittered her mandibles. "That is unfortunate, yes. I had thought that through you, my grubs would be kept safe from the machinations of my enemies, but it seems that is not the case."
"And yet you didn't seem very interested in getting better defenses to protect both yourself and others. Assassinating your foes is far from the only way to ensure your safety." Iris observed. "It's not hard to start creating a better situation - you simply need the will to do so. It is never too late to begin changing." With that, she began moving towards the exit. Talking with the... lords?... of this place had not been very fruitful. That was disappointing, of course, but she was who she was. Sometimes, the light mortals were offered wasn't quite what they expected, but that was the way of things.
The ant queen made no move to stop you, merely signalling the golems to return to their posts as she returned to her work. There was an air of ... inevitability ... around her, as if nothing you said truly mattered.