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Indarius seems to ponder what the elf says for a good long time. Before nodding, "Very well. Then I shall accompany you to deliver this key. If it is truely the salvation of the realm that you seek. Your quest giver may have not informed you, or he may not be aware that I am also a lodestone of this plane. Killing me would do more harm than it would to just leave me. Besides the crown of a tyrant were never aspirations I strove for."
He looked at the great man, "You, I take it you hail from Whitehall then? Since you seek the release of it from 'my' yolk?" He shook his head, "I would understand if you hated me, but know this is never the part I really wanted to play in your kingdom. But when life makes you powerful and fear inspiring, it is hard to do much else. Especially when that's what the people push you to be, a monster destined to live in solace away from people. Regardless, you should know I sent the chieftain's son, daughter, and her beloved back along with their treasures when they came to my mountain, offering themselves up asking forgiveness. They were fearful that I'd kill them for warning me of you. No, I couldn't bear such a thing."
Indarius carefully circled around the adventurers from a safe distance, "Imagine many of these vast riches, returned to your people, all for the simple cost of me taking up the mantle of defender of the key and going with you to find the others. Else we could fight, you'll probably die, and I carry on your quest in your stead. What say you heroes?"
He looks to Valerie. "We've got maybe five, six hours before dawn, so we'd better get a move on. I'd rather not end up testing how well vampires tan in this fantasy realm."
Okay, that huff was pure Femtite. So she's got at least a finger on the wheel, but nonzero chance that breaking character too much makes it easier to flambé me....
"Uhh... Prithee, O Demon Fair yet Foul, an bloodshed undue might be averted I must know you better. It is said that demons are great in might, fierce in fire, and untouched by the passing of years. I cannot resist your advances forever, yet I swear that even you will feel frustration's fangs gnaw upon you while you groan beneath the heaping weight of all your abyssal host's scorn ere I falter... Unless you are clever enough to barter."
The demoness is quite suddenly bedside. There’s a fiery trail from where she was to where she is.
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:: You can’t barter if the room’s of fire, Mistress. ::
Bug-Eye flies over the blazed trail and drops tears to quench the flames.
:: Dead puppies, dead puppies, dead puppies… ::
Ignoring her minion’s sad thoughts, she makes a devilish grin. “Princess Constance, be you the thorn in my side, you do make an excellent point of what is on my side:
“Time.”
Batwings rocket propel her to bed-level. She lies on her side atop the billowing hellfire and rests her head on her elbow.
“I can wait.”
Bug-Eye telepathically buIIshit-coughs.
The demoness glares at her little minion, but after six seconds, she sits up, one leg crossed over the other. Her tail sways in a serpentine dance, until she side-eyes her own tail. Then it slowly descends, lost in the hellfire cloud on which the demoness is seated.
“You are but a sweet rose, and Time would wilt you as it does all mortals. You seek to trick me, that much is obvious. Yet, to play along… does this interest me?”
She surveys the room. There are several days worth of singed trails, except for the side of the room blocked by yellow ribbons what read Doth Not Crosseth, where some carpenters have been compelled to remove the carpet an install an artful mosaic—only they haven’t shown up for three days due to a conflict with a previously-signed infernal contract to repair the roof at the Evil Bakery.
The demoness answers her own question: “My interest in this barter is abysmally low, which is to say, greater than nil.
“You’ve got more underneath that bejeweled tiara than a fabulous do. Go on then, Princess. Share more of your thoughts.”
The demoness has an expectant look. Clearly, she wants Princess Constance to continue speaking.
Such manners, what artful tongue, Connecticut was not a faire comparison—she’s more etiquette than all of New England. Though that’s essentially the same amount of etiquette as Connecticut when you factor in the MasshoIes…
"Lieutenant Durg." He starts, without taking his eyes of the defeated general. "I still hear fighting outside, so I fail to understand why you are hear gloating and chatting and not outside doing your job." He glances at the despicable man. "And this time, I want prisoners, not bodies." He then looks back at the general as he hears Durg leaving. In truth, the man was efficient. The only reason he was still alive.
"On your feet, General Argin." He says to the defeated general, grabbing his tabard and pulling him up. The tabard tears in his hand. "You were brave enough to face my army, even knowing you'd be defeated. The free peoples of Harrowguard aren't free anymore, just like the once free people of Coast of Pearls, Mercaria, Haewood..." He trails off, knowing he for sure doesn't need to list his whole conquests.
Caio uses the piece of tabard to clean the blood from his face and hair. It wasn't his blood of course, but instead of one of his own man. The worst of the worst, as they use to call these. The Third Legion was infamous for having the worst men in the whole league, but they were the best of the worst, for the nine weakest of them were always put to the sword before each battle. In parts, Caio did this to keep his man properly motivated to do their best, but also because it was too dangerous to let his Red Blade enter a battle while too thirsty.
"Now, General, I'll be honest with you, because we need to solve a conundrum. Your army is no more. The few men you have behind your walls are laughable. I have the very worst men under my command and before dawn we'll have breached the gates." He tells the man. "While I'm pretty sure you won't believe me considering my background, but at this moment, I'd love to spare your people from any further harm. We have to be realist though."
"I want you to order the gates to be open, while I'll keep my army outside. You'll bring us food and wine. You'll bring us coins and jewelry... everything my men would find if they were to search." He explains. "But your lives will be spared. Think of your women, children and your elders. Recall what happened in Coast of Pearls." In truth, Caio was doing his best not to throw up from the horrible, and intrusive, memories of what happened in Coast of Pearls.
Princess Constance shakes her head slightly, her eyes discreetly downcast. "You are mistaken, my infernal inveigler. Time is not on your side, time is the coin I can exact from you, and with each ducat from your purse, an otherwise certain victory may grow ever more in doubt.
"But in exchange for a term of service, not an onerous one for the unaging, at its end I will cease my resistance to your blandishments. If that is what you still wish."
The demoness eyes the princess suspiciously. “Schemin’ like a demon. A little too much. Roger? Is that you in there, possessing a princess right out from under me? I hate that.
She waits six seconds.
“Well, if Roger was in there, he’d have f#~!ed off by now. It’s in his contract.”
The demoness stops rocket-propelling herself. Her wings drape her form as she stands, back a few steps from the bed. She folds her fingers together excellently.
There is a pause.
Followed by a look of resignation.
Defeat.
She sighs a puff of black smoke. “I really wanted to like this little game. Your plan seems so well thought out when one contemplates what’s left unsaid. It’s just that, if you’re open to constructive criticism, the plan is communicated with such brazen omittance, it leaves the listener wondering how much more she’s to endure before you dangle the carrot. Plus, the delivery got dreadfully dull, and you punctuated the dullness with a word whose first syllable is ‘bland.’
“So, I’m going to go dance the Macarena with your seventeen prettiest maids. That gives you scant more than four minutes to practice your delivery.”
She points to her minion.
“—on Bug-Eye.”
The Demoness disappears in a shower of sparks.
Bug-Eye stares at Princess Constance. White letters appear in front of the minion.
:: I thought your extensive vocabulary made the delivery more interesting than not. I am afraid the Mistress has a point about the omittance. ::
The group exchange dubious looks. "Can we confer?" the woman in priestly vestments asks.
Assuming leave is given, the team huddles up some distance away, though they continue to keep an eye on Indarius.
"Are you mad, Myra? We're all together for his breath! This has to be a trick!" the bald man says. "No dragon would give us such terms!"
"He may fear us more than he boasts of our deaths. We should slay the beast now!" the big man rumbles.
The elf sighs. "And what of his claim that his death would further destabilize the realm? Could that be true?"
"I... it's possible. There is great power here, and the wyrm is one of the four guardians." the wizard replies.
"There's something familiar about him. I can't put my finger on it, though."
"I did not know you were familiar with dragons, Kipple," the big man addresses the halfling.
"Let's focus on the question before us. What do we do? Fight? Or take his offer? I say we take it," the elf says.
"We fight."
"I agree with Bron. Its evil must be rooted from this land." Myra says.
"I'm willing to put my vote with Kipple," the wizard says. "Familiar how?"
"Like I've met him in another life. I... don't think he wants to destroy us. Let's take the deal."
The group returns, weapons still in hand. "We accept your terms, Indarius the Frozen. I am Ty'leth Urodern. If you betray us, may you ever be known as Oathbreaker and Coward. Help us deliver the key, and you may yet be known as a Defender."
Each of the heroes await Indarius's response, some with hopeful expressions, and others with distrust in their eyes.
What do you do??
Kyana opens her mouth to answer, but doesn't say anything. "Wait. You don't know? You're supposed to be guarding it!"
Valerie shrugs. "Don't look at us. You've been in this castle as long as we have." She looks between Kyana and Shin. "S#*+. One of us is going to have to forget again, right?"
"I don't mind forgetting." Kyana mutters. "Well, it shouldn't be hard to find. I'll bet it's a 'we'll know it when we see it' situation. We should... check your coffin, I guess?
"And can I put my gear back on? This thing smells like it's been on a dead body."
Valerie defers to Shin regarding allowing Kyana reclaim her belongings. "This is a big castle, from what I saw on the outside. Unless we find it in the next ten minutes or so, I don't know if we should risk traveling until the next night." She looks at Kyana. "How far is the Hall of Heroes?"
"The nearest portal is a day's ride from the borders of Radovja."
"Tells me nothing."
Kyana rolls her large eyes. "Radovja is the country we're in. Ruled by this guy." She gestures to Shin.
General Argin scowls. "So you would have us pillage ourselves, then?" He grows silent as he considers the terms, his mouth twisting like he was tasting the offer and finding it bitter.
"I've little choice but to accept, and hope you don't decide to put the town to the torch once we've rid it of any value to you. Can you give me any assurance you'll hold to your word?"
Princess Constance sits and works on her needlepoint.
Once four minutes have passed she looks back up at her infernal captor. "You have spent four more of your minutes. Would you like to know how long the term of service would be before spending more?"
The demoness stands before Tasha the Maid. “East,” she tells her. Then to Daphne the Maid, “South,” and the next two she names: “West.” “North.”
The next four maids are assigned Northeast, Southeast, Southwest and Northwest. And the next eight: North by Northwest, North by Northeast, East by Northeast and so on.
When she gets to Jhanette the Maid, the last of the seventeen, she says “Premises.”
She does not dance with the maids. She spreads her wings and sits upon her billowing hellfire, one leg crossed over the other, and watches the synchronized dancers.
Who among you has a fire in her eyes?
Seeing there is no rescue party on the way, the Demoness dismisses her suspicion—
"You have spent four more of your minutes. Would you like to know how long the term of service would be before spending more?"
—only to find the princess acting more suspiciously than before.
She turns to Bug-Eye, hands on hips. “What the actual Hell, Bug-Eye? In four minutes, her oral presentation skills have grown considerably worse.”
She turns to Princess Constance. “Why would I listen to you? You speak nonsense. Minutes are currency and I’m not spending them well? Have you ever had a three-hour foot massage with Tasha the Maid? Whatever ducat-per-minute I blew on that, worth it!”
She stands by the door, one hand on the knob. “Threats are futile. They emanate desperation. Oh, please Mistress! Hear my plan, there’s a pay-off in the future! But act now—time is running out!
“I walk out to that.” But she doesn’t walk out yet. Instead she scoffs, “Do you know nothing of my kind? There’s only one kind of offer I would even consider. You had my attention before you turned me off.”
She opens the door, but is curious. Will the princess say anything of interest at all?
"Forgive me, Darkly Radiant One, but Tasha and her charms are that to which I refer, at least in kind. Eternity is yours, but eternity where you have succeeded in corrupting the whole of this kingdom could be more... rewarding than an eternity where Roger, or some other rival manages to poach your chosen prey because you spent too much of your time waiting to tame her."
Princess Constance smiles, twining a ringlet of hair around her satiny finger.
"And an eternity where heroes have enough time to save the day, reclaiming the kingdom and casting you back to the pit to make your excuses to whatever dark master awaits you... That would scarce be better than your worst torments.
"Why not help each other avoid a darker fate than is needed? A week and a day is all I ask; surely you have endured pains and pleasures a like that have exceeded that span. A week and a day, and at it's end I will allow you to take this kingdom if you wish it."
"You can have the clothes and armor for now, but I'll be holding onto your weapons and valuables," Shin says, handing those things over. "If you fall back into character I'd rather not let you start shooting me in the back. And I'm assuming some of these trinkets are magical," He adds.
He turns to Valerie, looking a little frustrated. "I really don't want you to fall back into this vamped up character of yourself. But we need the key, she'd likely either attack or escape and if I fall under everyone's screwed. Let's go talk to the servants first, see if they have an idea. Wadsworth's leading them in defense of the castle from her friends."
Shin leads everyone up out of the crypts to go and find some of the servants, and tries to put on his best vampire impression. "These cretins are likely aiming for the key. We should move it to a new secure location," He says, with the air of someone who expects them to agree and suggest options.
The door closes. The demoness seems pleased at Princess Constance’s tone.
“A tempting offer.” The grin slowly crosses her face. “You make too many assumptions about whatever consequences await me be there heroes or an imperfect conquest. Implied threats are a bore.
“But a week and a day. That interests me. Not because you’ve gone fathoms out of your way to avoid saying ‘eight,’ but that eight days would matter. It is but a blink in an eon.”
:: I can’t blink. Rub it in. ::
“You have obvious expectations about Day Eight. Or Day Nine, it could be the ninth day where the ‘if you wish’ part comes in.
“Or ‘still wish,’ as you put it the first time.”
She points to the door.
“I should walk.”
The door erupts into flames. The demoness bends her finger and the roaring fire instantly dissipates, though the door itself is blackened with cracks pulsating a vermilion hue.
“But you wish to barter, and you surely understand I will bind you to your word—”
She unfurls a scroll made of human facial tissue. She wills onto the page words in a strange language that Princess Constance does not know.
“—except where your words are left brazenly open to interpretation. I revised ‘a week and a day’ to ‘eight consecutive days.’ You did say span, so I don’t expect you’re attempting a ho-ho-ho, the week is this week but the day is The Fifth of Never, or A Cold Day In Hell, which is every day in the ninth circle. I love it when mortals try cheating me with that one!”
She gives the princess a deathly serious glare. “Choose your next words carefully, for trickery only binds you to what I’m led to believe. What do you intend to do over these eight consecutive days?”
"We were hired to take your city, but as mercenaries, the big chunk of our payment comes from the loot of the defeated. If I order my men to return to Thalas without something, their greed will quickly overcome their fear, and soon they'll have another general more aligned with their goals. Tonight they were expecting to ravish your women, but I'm sure they'll settle with the food and the treasure."
Caio forms his hand into a fist as a foreign rage overcomes him momentarily. He takes a deep breath before answering. "I'll pretend you have not questioned the weight of my words." He informs the man. "Besides, what would be the point of raising your town? Duke Warton can't be king of a raised land filled with corpses."
"Now, with that settled, I want to speak with the Oracle."
"In the next eight days? I'm going to save you."
She lets that sit a beat before adding. "As well as eating, breathing, bathing and other things I find to be relevant necessities to my life. I must go on a journey to see my brother another necessity.
She scrunches up her nose prettily at the tissue-thin flesh. "Contracts must be made legible and comprehensible to both parties, or they have no force or hold."
The demoness shrugs. The scroll burns to ash and another unfurls. This one is made of flayed man-chest, each pectoral page sewn together by chest hair. (The first scroll had pages connected alternately by chin hair and eyebrows.)
Words burn onto the page, in English starting with Today’s Date in cursive. The princess’ own words are neatly printed, mostly verbatim with alterations in PoV, verb tense, connectors…
In the next eight consecutive days, Princess Constance is intends to save THE MISTRESS.
Additionally, she shall eat, breathe, bathe and do other things she finds to be relevant necessities to her life. She shall go on a journey to see her brother, which is deemed “another necessity.”
Contracts must be made legible and comprehensible to both parties; else, they have no force or hold.
Furthermore, THE MISTRESS shall protect Princess Constance from harm and keep her safe during these eight days to the best of her ability, as long as this agreement is being honored.
She shows the princess, waits a bit…
“I added my own two ducats in cursive. Do we agree? If yes, I shall have Tasha draw you a bath, and the others shall prepare a meal and put out a fresh gown and such.”
Her tone with the princess is very polite, with a hint of Eager.
With her minion, volume is raised, tone is authoritative: “Bug-Eye! Weather!”
Bug-Eye flits to a window.
:: Sunny as always in the realm of Princess Constance. I am unable to see the weather beyond this realm, for I am but a humble eyeball. The horizon obscures my vision. Plus, trees are strange to me when I look at the hills. I do not see individual leaves, just green clumps. I fear I may need a monocle, Mistress. ::
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Indarius waves them along to chat between themselves, going about hisbown business of digging through some gear and pulling it from the pile and to the side. Looking more like spring cleaning than he's actually paying them much mind. When they turn back to accept he nods, "Excellent, then I shall bare the key forward."
With a shifting twisting ensmallening Indarius reduced himself to his smaller form. Then looks down a bit perturbed, "Oh well that's quite bothersome. A few moments then as I prepare." He takes a bit to rebury some of the artciles he had dug out and starts fashioning others by mystically reweaving the fabrics. After a few minutes he has a satchel fashioned which slides over his long neck into which he drops the key and some coinage. "So where do we begin. Aside from outside of my humble abode of course?"
Princess Constance goes to her writing desk, stabs the ball of her thumb with a quill, makes a brief adjustment ( ^and perform other duties towards the aforementioned princess's similar necessities upon request, initials and signs the contract.
"Your offer is gracious, but I feel quite rejuvenated... Oh, pardon me, but how should I refer to you? 'Mistress' is inappropriate to the situation, but 'Demon' feels rather too impersonal."
General Argin resignedly agrees to the terms and he is escorted back to the city to begin the process of paying tribute to Caio's army. Several hours pass while his lieutenants oversee the tasks of reorganizing his forces, tending to wounded, and wrangling prisoners.
Priests of Ninavae pick their way around the battlefield, administering last rites to the dead and dying, while tearful and weary peasants sort the dead and battle the few remaining fires.
As the first of the food and drink are brought forth, the horde begins to gorge themselves and revel in their victory. General Costa is many times forced to repeat his orders that his soldiers are not to pillage or ransack the village.
Night falls and the smells of battle turns to the smells of charred meat, and the sounds of the horde's camp turn to raucous revelry. In his command pavilion, General Costa is finally visited by the Oracle he summoned. General Argin is with her, looking grim indeed, as he brings the woman inside and past Caio's personal guard. "The Lucid One, as you requested," he spits.
The Oracle is several years older than Caio, but no crone. Her loose robes are wrapped around her haphazardly. She appears dazed, looking around like she is not quite seeing her surroundings, or that she is seeing something else not there. Eventually, her eyes fall upon Caio and he feels a shudder run through him. "You are not playing the role assigned to you," she says in a lilting voice. She turns to Argin. "You may leave without worry for me. Go and tend to the city."
The Lucid One looks around the pavilion tent dreamily while the general reluctantly withdraws. She then focuses in a sudden and unnerving way upon Caio once more. "We have not met before. At least in this reality. Or, the real one. Though I am here, and there. Do you know where you are?"
The adventurers look on in astonishment and awe as Indarius digs up his treasure hoard. The wizard weaves a spell to learn of the various enchanted items, then they each take turns picking items from the pile all the while casting glances at the dragon for a change of heart.
When Indarius puts the key in his own satchel around his neck, the adventurers protest. "You've demonstrated your good intentions thus far, but we must insist that we carry the key. We are quested to find it, so we are the ones to bring it to the Hall of Heroes. You may accompany us, and share in the glory of its retrieval, but we must be the ones to carry it," Ty'leth says.
"And we don't want you flying off with it," Bron says bluntly, to several shushes by his companions. He puts a hand on his hammer with an unapologetic look.
"It's a day's ride from the border of your territory," Myra explains. "And only heroes may access the Hall. We cannot risk the fate of the world, despite the trust you've shown thus far." She holds out her hands. "Please."
What does he do??
Kyana frowns at not having her weapons returned, but leaps at the chance to be back in her armor. Valerie watches over her, trying on the rings and pendant. One of her fingers immediately begins smoking, causing Valerie to cry out in pain and yank the offending ring off. "OWW!" she cries as she flings it away with a hiss.
Kyana laughs sharply at Valerie's pain. "That was a blessed ring of the martyr. Gives me resistance to evil powers. Guess it doesn't like you." She finishes donning her armor. "We're coming back for that."
In the castle, Shin summons his servants and informs them they need to move the key. A hunched servant produces a heavy iron ring with numerous keys and holds it up. "Which key, my lord?" he asks. They all appear perfectly mundane.
"Oh, God, we're going to have to search this whole castle, aren't we?" Valerie groans. "No! We need a valuable, important key! Not something that we would give a..." Her insult dies on her tongue. "Anything like that?"
The servants shrink from Valerie's outburst. They cower for a moment expecting to receive their master's wrath. Timidly, one with a heavy brow ridge and jutting teeth ventures, "Are you meaning the Psy-key, milord? Is it not safe in your sanctum?"
Before Shin can react, the sounds of battle outside the great hall erupts!
What do you do??
The entire tower rumbles the instant the contract is signed. A booming voice that grates on the soul echoes through the demon's mind. "Eisheth! Cease your games! I demand progress, child! Have you secured the key? The princess will be yours to do with as you please once you've attained the key!"
What do you do?
The entire tower rumbles the instant the contract is signed. The Femtite-demon's eyes roll back in her head and she convulses where she floats in the air.
For a moment, the Princess Constance persona takes hold and extreme doubt and fear seize her heart as she considers she has made a mistake trying to take matters in her own hands. She should just wait for the heroes to come save her.
Connie shakes it off, but the lingering doubts remain. This world has different rules. The key around her neck glows brightly, and she notices one of the sigils burns off!
What do you do??
The Demoness cringes at the rumbling, and the echo in her mind that follows.
The fire in her eyes darkens.
“The contract is invalid. Unacceptable. Not worth the manflesh it’s printed on.”
The contract, if it ever was one, burns to ash!
“Saving me,” she scoffs. “Who’s your brother—Super Mario? It matters not. My salvation is not in the realm of possibility. Not in eight days—or eight millennia, what’s the difference?”
:: It’s two million, nine hundred twenty-one thousand, nine hundred ninety-two days, Mistress. ::
She ignores her minion, eyes locked on those of Princess Constance.
The demoness narrows her eyes for a beat. Her gaze lowers—no, not to ogle the princess’ cleavage! It’s that accursed key around her neck. What is so important about this thing?
"Am I inside one of Quincy's games?" He asks. This is not close to what he had experienced but it was certainly magical. He'd probably not have guessed if she had not used the words "playing the role". "If so, he got a lot better... and if he doesn't get these memories out of my head when I leave, he'll be in serious trouble."
Of course. Why should her being a demon make this any easier
"Well, if you're just going to have some sort of fit, I suppose our conversation is finished. Good day to you, Demon." and she walks over to open the door.
"Game?" The woman tilts her head as if this was a new idea to her. She looks around again and Caio gets the sense that she is seeing through the heavy fabrics making up the partitions of his pavilion tent.
"I do not see a Quincy. But I see rules. Less complex, but... growing. Drawing more to itself." Her eyes get a silvery color that lack pupils.
"Where are you from, Caio Costa?"
Constance opens the door and sees the quarters of her servants, maids, and ladies-in-waiting. They turn to regard her, their demon-possessed faces distorted from their familiar pleasant smiles to wide, sharp-toothed grins. Their skin is blotchy and eyes mismatched. "Oh! Princess! How can we serve you? Are you hungry? Nettie has some goat leg left!"
The one identified as Nettie holds up a partially gnawed goat's haunch, raw and bloody.
Beyond their chambers is the door to the spiral staircase that winds hundreds of feet down to the rest of the castle.
Shin takes a step back. So easy to fall into the vampiric persona when his emotions boil over. He needs to steady himself. "I'll require an escort to my sanctum. Bring half a dozen with you." He considers something - what would help them here that he could do? He was a lord of the night, so perhaps he could summon the denizens of the dark to duel the daring fools at his doorstep.
"Kyana, your brethren come to rescue you, I believe. I need the wizard," Shin tells her, before shaking his head free of delusions. "I mean, he has a teleport ability, so he could make it easier to travel I would hope. Unless the range isn't that good."
"Where I'm from, I'm not a conquering warlord ahead a horde of ruthless mercenaries, but instead a fighter bound to a holy spirit." He explains. "To give you some perspective, in my world I'd be fighting this version of me with all my powers."
"In my world, there is a mage called Quincy, who uses his magic to create fantastic worlds like this one and then send people here to have thrilling adventures." He explains, even if not certain anymore if that is what is happening here. "This is called a role playing game and he is the 'game master', or 'dungeon master', or something similar... because you mentioned me not playing my role, I thought it was the case."
"How real is here?" He asks, fearing the answer.
With a distant smile, Princess Constance brushes past them. "I simply wish privacy for now, thank you."
Wish I knew how many 'NPCs' around here are made out of real people, but I'll have to be careful
The demoness sees the princess wants to walk away from a conversation. So what a deliciously evil thing it is to follow her.
“You speak of fits as if dropping your princessy mannerisms again and storming out the door isn’t one. Or perhaps you define fits by royal decree?
“But why the huff? A princess can never be a savior—everyone knows that. You should thank me for luring the naïveté out of you with my notepad just to squash that silly plan of yours. But I understand. You’re a princess surrounded by Yes-Maids.”
She laughs as the Princess speaks of privacy.
“—whom you just snubbed!” She turns to the maids. “Oh, Netty, don’t lose heart. Princess Constance truly wants to give up her snobby ways. I know it’s very dangerous to chase another down a spiral stairwell with a drop that is hundreds of feet down, but Her Pretty Highness is playing hard-to-get. Show her you’re up to the challenge!
“Or… doooowwwwnnnn.”
"I am terribly sorry, Demon, but your barbs are simply too dull and ill-aimed to catch hold."
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Indarius struts once the key is in his satchel, "The way I see it, trust is a two way street. I am already trusting that you won't lead me into a trap or try to kill me in my sleep. I am asking you to trust the key in my much more protective hands as it has been for quite some time already. I shall not run, unless you threaten me, of course at which point this whole deal is more or less off. You'll find no more danger in my lair from the traps and monstrosities I use to protect it."
He slithers down, "And I trust that you will not use MY own things to do me harm, since you didn't even ask before you started helping yourselves to them." He rose to his full height again, "It is a paltry demand that I be the one to hold onto the key. Besides it should draw any ire from outside forces to myself instead of you."
The demoness unleashes hell on the entire stairwell!
The stone stairwell erupts to become a blazing inferno—the heat close to the door is intense, but where the Princess now stands, it is simply very warm. She would feel the intensity before getting close enough to burn to death.
But just in case the Princess has lost her mind along with her persona, the demoness does not rescind her words to the maids.
“Barbs?” she asks in a deathly serious tone. “You seem to have me mistaken for a rival schoolgirl. And I obviously underestimated you.
“The bravado was strange at first, then came that promise of salvation. You had me on that one—that you were so good and pure that you actually believed you could un-damn me. But of course you knew. Contracts are for devils, and I seal deals…” She smirks a little. “How strange you played the naïve little priss so well, only to drop the facade and very stupidly walk, as if I would what?—watch slack-jawed because you said ‘good day?’
“You are my prisoner, Princess. If you want to change that, give me the key.”
The demoness does not expect Princess Constance to give her the key. She signals the maids to surround the princess.
“Princess Constance is not herself. She needs bed rest, immediately.”
The Oracle looks off into the distance. "Ah. I am Lucidity in Halcyon. We are very close to me. Almost..." She interlaces her fingers together as a demonstration.
At his question about how real this world is, her eyes change from their silvery orbs to their normal pale gray. She unlocks her fingers and presses a hand down on the table where the battlefield map is laid out with troop movements and stratagems. She runs it over the well-worn grains of the wood, then digs a fingernail into the varnish and inspects the resulting blemish. "It is... real enough that I am here. I do not have answers, only observations. When a timeline splits, I do too. I am present in every sustained reality."
She pulls the hood of her cloak up over her head. "If this is a game, then it is a very real game, Caio Costa. Your role is that of tyrant and warlord." Lucidity's eyes grow silvery again. "You also guard something of great value. Heroes will come to try to take it from you. Yet, you must resist. You may detest this role imposed upon you, but you must embrace it to save your own world."
She turns to leave the tent.
"We can't risk trusting a dragon!" Bron shouts, hefting his hammer in both hands.
Ty'leth rolls his eyes. "We don't have time for this. If Indarius wishes to carry the key to the portal, we can agree."
"The Hall will never accept him in," Myra says.
"We'll see. Let's go. We need to make haste." Kipple mounts her tiger and urges it back to the tunnel leading out of the ice caverns. The adventurers reluctantly all begin to leave, but stay close to Indarius to see if he will travel with them.
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Indarius proudly struts alongside the adventurers, looking much like a higantic ice and scale coated feline with his movements rather than the veritable living war machine.
"And pray tell why wouldn't the hall let me in, if I were suitably heroic?"
He would continue slightly ahead of them through the formerly trap laden halls of his own lair, making it quite clear he wasn't just letting them go on without him.
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"We all have a seat at the table," Myra answers. "You do not."
The adventurers and the dragon leave Indarius's lair as a group, stepping out into the high-altitude cold of the mountain. Pulling their cloaks tight against the wind, they look first to make sure the key-bearer doesn't spread his wings and take off, then begin the trek down the glacier.
The servants cower and tremble again at the vampire's outburst. When their master's wrath again does not come, the one who suggested the Psy-key starts to move to a grand, curving staircase. "Th- This way, my lord." He takes up a lit candelabra to light the way.
Valerie had been staring at him silently ever since the key was named. "All right. You check that out, Kyana and me'll try to talk some sense into her buddies." She looks at the elf. "Right?"
"You mean get them to remember themselves? Not everyone will want to," Kyana says. Valerie's glare is unwavering. "Fine."
As the two go towards the sounds of the fighting, Shin follows the heavy-browed servant up the staircase to another dim and dreary hall lit only by the candles. The servant stoically leads his vampire master to the far end, where he opens a heavy wooden door revealing a spiral stairwell leading up.
Climbing several flights of stairs has the servant beathing heavily, though Shin feels no burning in his muscles at all. Eventually, they reach a well-appointed room with thick, old rugs upon flagstone floors, soft leather furniture, and bookshelves lining the walls. A dusty cabinet has a variety of bottles with a crystal decanter and goblets. A heavy shuttered window reveals this room is in a tower high above the rest of the castle.
A pedestal in the center of the room displays a red crystal rose under glass. Shin sees a soft glow in the heart of the flower petals, and ridges along the stem that reminds him of the teeth of a key.
The stairs erupt into an inferno, sending waves of heat roiling out of the stairwell. The maid closest to the flames staggers back but not fast enough. Her skin chars and blackens from the heat, but her demon-possessed grin doesn't even falter. Her hair, too, burns away filling the room with an acrid stench.
At Femtite's instructions to put Princess Constance to bed, the maids jerkily approach including the scorched one, heedless of her own injuries.
"Come along, dearie. You need your beauty rest!" the burnt one cackles as she grips her arm with her charred hands. The others move her bodily back into the bedchambers, lifting her off her feet if they have to.
Constance learns her muscles are far too weak to put up much resistance. She thrashes feebly as she's lifted into the air and carried to her bed by her own attendants. The burnt one continues her crazed leering as her blackened flesh cracks while wrestling Constance into her bed.
Connie's fingers brush up against the wounded flesh, and she feels a surge of power flow out from her. Before her eyes, the wound repairs itself, black flesh sloughing off and revealing smooth and unblemished skin in its place!
Eisheth is surprised at the princess’ unpredictable oddities. Claiming a desire to save me, walking away casually, and… did she feel NOTHING when I nearly killed that maid? She healed her…
The demoness sends a telepathic order to Bug-Eye, then approaches a maid.
“Who is the prince? Princess Constance wishes to see her brother, but” I’ve the entire royal family under control, save for the princess. Therefore, the prince, if there is one, is not in the castle, and “I am certain he is not in the kingdom.
“Is there, perhaps, a brother who’s ridden off on his high horse to galavant, make-merry-not-war, have his sword polished or what have you? If Princess Constance does indeed have a brother, kindly tell me his name and any other information you know about this prince.”
The minion follows Eisheth’s orders, studying the untouchable key, examining the sigils as the Princess is secured in her bed by her attendees.
The demoness sees what Bug-Eye sends to her mind’s eye: imagery of the sigil that Eisheth remembers, and the others she’s yet to learn the meaning of.
It looks so fragile.
Shin approaches the glass bell and pulls it off, before carefully reaching out to grasp it. Being sure to be slow and make sure that it wasn't going to break on him for being too hasty.
"...I'm a fool, Kylie. Why can't I move on from you?" He asks to no one. "Valerie's wonderful. Strong, capable, smart, and beautiful. I could have a great relationship with her. I care about her. I like her. I want to find out if I can fall in love with her. But I hear your name just once and for a moment that's all I can think about. It scares me, because I don't know if I'll start to hate you for not being able to just let you go."
He turns the stem of the key between his fingers, looking at the pulsing glow. That was enough navel-gazing for now. He tucks it away on his person, turning to leave the room and to find the battle raging on. Kyana had said that when adventurers died, they just ended back up in the Hall of Heroes. That was honestly great news. It meant that there was an easy way to accomplish their goals here.
Beneath the covers, Princess Conflux experiments.
Thank god this character is either straight or inconsiderate...
Trying not to make a move or a fuss she works her fingernail back and forth into her hip, pushing well past the pain point until she finally drew blood.
Okay. Does involuntary healing work on me? It doesn't feel used up, but it does feel restricted so there's rules. Let's see if they're the same for me.
At his touch, the glow in the heart of the flower turns to a bright purple -- the same color generated by Psyche's powers. As he whispers his thoughts to it, he can almost feel her. He can recall her with far more clarity than before, her voice rings clearly in his mind.
When he finally makes his way back to the entry hall, Shin comes upon a tense truce. The other adventurers still brandish their weapons and holy symbols aggressively and stand over the defeated remains of the castle's skeletal guardians. Kyana has interposed herself between the group and Valerie who is flanked by two animated but hollow suits of armor that seem to be on her side.
"-- worked in a call center! And Dargur Stonefellow, you're real name is Greg! Don't you remember? You never let something vaguely sexual get by without some kind of comment!"
"Dargur" shakes his head. "Lass, your head's not right. They've done something to ye!"
"Believe me, I want to forget and be Kyana again. These last few weeks have been everything I've dreamt of. I'll be her again, soon. You just have to believe me that we don't have to fight the vampires! We've met Shin before! He was the same vampire when Eliana got killed!"
The entire party gasps. The hero holding the shield with the holy symbol steps forward, causing Valerie to hiss reflexively. "You swore to avenge your sister's killer, and now you treat with his allies?!?"
"I'm the same player!!" Kyana shouts! "Eliana was me! I was there!"
"You came to us after the battle of Peevee Peigh!" the wizard says. "Eliana never spoke you. Were you in league with these villains this whole time?!?"
"Gaah! No! Listen! PVP? Player-versus-player? We're in a game! What happens when we're killed?"
Clearly impatient and about to do further violence, the knight sighs. "If we are slain, we retire to the Halls of Heroes and another hero rises."
"Yeah, otherwise known as, making a new character."
Valerie interjects when she sees Shin had slipped into the foyer. "Oh, hey! We are getting nowhere! You find the thingy?"
"It is he!" The heroes turn in alarm to face the master of the castle.
What do you do??
Once finally alone, Connie is able to experiment. She finds her self-inflicted wound to be quite painful. At first, it just stings. It takes a couple additional digs with the fingernail to get the wound painful enough that the same surge of power comes to her and she watches the injury fade before her eyes.
As she continues to ponder, a pair of songbirds flit into her room. Their chirping is sweet and fills her princess persona with an odd comfort. The birds alight on her bedposts and continue to sing.
Their music is plaintive and sympathetic to her plight. Connie could almost imagine words within the birdsong, until she realizes she actually is understanding them.
::Sweet princess! We hate to see you trapped like this! We remember when you freed us from our own cages in the marketplace! What can we do? Do you need seeds? Worms?::
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"Ah so a sort of chosen one ordeal. Well then I'd like to hear more about you and your quest. Perhaps then you'll see that I actually am on your side."
He keeps pace more or less with the group, having a feeling that once they reach any town his presence will become an active problem. But he can hold out for the best.
"What are these keys for even. As long as i've had it in my posession, i've no recollection of how it came to be in my hoard, nor it's purpose."
"Idiot adventurers who trespass on my territory, harm my servants and seek to rob me." He addresses the party. "As much as I would love to capture you all or destroy you, I'm unhappy with my part in the world. So I've broke a deal with your Kyana. She shall have my key, and in exchange, she will escort me and my Beloved to your Hall of Heroes so I might discuss things with your Questgiver." He stares coolly at them all.
"To that end, I give you a choice. Comply with this decision, cease your aggressions and assist Kyana. Choosing otherwise will force my hand." He stares at them, avoiding the holy light of their symbols of fake gods that still causes him to flinch. "Your ultimate goal is the delivery of the key. So why not go along?"
