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Property values are down, we're getting bad reviews on the noteboard at the World Serpent, and I think most of all, our complaints department is not 99% full of "Errol did something again".I know someone who's getting themselves a mount. *waggles eyebrows*
#firstworldproblems That's not a problem, that's a feature.
Don't you have something to be doing that we dared you you couldn't?Hee hee hee!Our group's been trying their best to stay on good term with fey, regardless of rank.I wouldn't say we're on bad terms. Just...not very good with wording things and getting an unintended result. Patience, patience! I thought you'd learned that particular lesson already.
Session Thirty-Three A most glorious battle was to unfold upon the morning, as battered as our Heroes were after their felling of the great Troll King, and the night was thus spent in recuperation of their wounds and the tending of their many soldiers fallen to the trollish tide. Upon the dawn, the daring dauntless determined the course of their collision with the brobdingnagian behemoth, and quickly concluded that to bring the beast low they would need to sever its magic in twain - its ring of power must be shattered and its glyphic brand sundered both. The former was of course of minute difficulty to arrange, despite the fact that numerous boxes and hammers of appropriate size were unavailable they did have a dragon with an axe and that would have to do; the latter however they were unsure of the nature of the necessity, and gathered all of arcane affinity for their aid in the attempt. And thus they began to attempt the ascent, with the spiders and the serpent climbing up the beast's broad back while the spellslingers took to the skies on wings of flesh and spell alike. The Talonquake would not let the approach of such vermin go unchecked however, and took to the gnats the broadness of its paws, nearly swatting some of the fliers out of the firmament and almost crushing the pyroclastic cavalier between its great mitts. The moving mountaineers at last succeeded in their ascent and reached the beast's beak, only to find its eyes alight with the witchfire of twin will-o-wisps, enhanced with acid and awaiting their arrival with eager abandon. Caustic lightning wreaked havoc on the attackers as their airborne aids arrived, forcing a return of retribution in spell and steel. Meanwhile the draconic devastator had begun his barrage against the aegis of glass, which was no less eager to return the favor, its eyes unleasing rays of alkaline electricity at its attacker in turn for every adamantine assault, and entangling him within its tendrils when at last he shattered the first surface. Those on foot were forced to focus their fighting on a single opponent of the optic units, but in due time they obliterated the opposition first one then the other, taking due pains for their passage in their counterassaults. But what ho, the rune remained! The spider maiden, desiring swift defeat of the gargantuan grotesquean, launched magic malevolent at the Mistress's mark, armed with a surge of superior energy from a wellspring only just tapped somewhere within her soul, and managed alone to overcome an obstruction that should have taken the combined capabilities of their entire cadre. This of course prompted immediate response from the Lady of the Glowing Floaty Head herself. By this time of course the Huntress, who had long since grown tired of sitting on the sidelines waiting for them to bring the behemoth down to size, had climbed up the beast's belly and reached its beak, and there deposited one of her devastating little potions of disparate probability. At the same time, the dragon dealt the final draw against the great glass, shattering the ring and scattering the energies stored within. The mysterious mischief-maker's mug vanished from whence she'd come, and the magic of the madness mingled with her eschewed enhancements, driving the result to measures beyond its original intent. The great beast sprouted a tree of impossible heights from the depths of its maw, and as its attackers scrambled to safety they watched as its entire body morphed from flesh to frond, plumage to petal, beak to bark, feather to foliage. Where once a colossal creature craving carnage had once stood was now only a tree towering over the terrain, visible for leagues in every direction. The relieved heroes relaxed, seeing the battle at an end, save the Shadowed Sylvan who immediately deemed their dominion her own and claimed it as demesne. Ah, but even after that magnificent display the show was not yet over! After departing the devastated domain of the harried Hargulka, his bounty in tow, and returning to the safety of their sheltered shores, the knight of the spell approached his maiden majesty with a dire declaration: that he sought to seek out none other than Her Shiverness to solve his dilemma of departed memories dear. Though the desperate Duchess attempted every measure at hand to talk him out of his mad plan, he was not to be deterred, and swept out of the city before noon of the same day. His departure did not go unnoticed by his other comrades, but of the three only the Woods' Daughter sought fit to follow. I too was curious as to his purpose and her presence, and incognito invited myself along. He traveled out into the midst of the Marches before calling forth the Queen of Air and Darkness, who this time was accompanied by her dear daughter Desdemona, and laid down his desire. The queen, in turn, began asking of him the requisite recompense for her efforts. She, predictably, asked first for the legendary blade sought by her own servant - once he was done with it, of course - and when he balked at that she suggested a promise of his service. He seemed still recalcitrant, and asked what other payments she might accept; apparently he underestimated the resources of our kind, for Maven Mab had quite a litany of legal tender she would accept in trade for her troubles in recovering his taken trinkets. Alas, all good snoops come to an end in time, and dearest Desdemona took note of our presence, urging her mother to reveal my hiding place; I in turn, unwilling to bear the blame alone of course, revealed the shadowed sister at my side. Mab motioned us both to join the Surly Sentinel before her, then attempted to resume the negotiations; however, our presence had so flustered the mage that he threw caution to the wind and placed the decision of his due completely in Her hands. Ever the more ecstatic, the Cold Queen agreed immediately, and departed with her daughter back to icy realms afar, leaving the trio of us standing alone in the forest dark. I then attempted to dive into dialogue with the Shadowy Sister, but both she and her sentinel savant seemed uninterested in entertaining my investments, until the prompting of my curiosity regarding her unpredictable little arrows urged her to demand an explanation of her nature. I simply summarized, elucidating her on the nature of First-Born and the origin of her unprecedented existence, as well as in the future her eventual offspring as progenitor of a previously-unknown species. She did not take this revelation with the expected enthusiasm, it seemed, and despite my hurrying of their arrival back to the city it turned out that not just these two but all their compatriots were no less unwelcoming of my presence. The daring dragon even went so far as to attempt to apprehend me for harassment as per mortal law! The nerve! I love these lunatics. I shall have to keep a quite closer eye on their antics in the future.
I CAN'T HEAR YOUYes, hunting. Huzzah.Catch up tonight!Yup. Worse too that it got cancelled. The overtime pay is nice, but I'd rather have the half hour of sleep I lost.Meanwhile, it's Week 2 of "Call a staff meeting at work before the normal time Orthos shows up and clocks in". This time 8 to my start at 8.30 instead of last week's 8.15. *grumble*Booooo! *poke!*
One can rarely find the fey, even when you're actively looking for them. More often than not, it's they who find you. And when they do, that doesn't always end well. So, it's not like no one is looking. It's just that they've been charmed and led off to parts unknown once they find them. Or warped and twisted by some strange fey magic so they can't relay what they've seen or experienced. :-> See, this man knows his stuff. Course, now that means we've to do something about that.
In other words, the crazy - it's catching. ;PRejoice, for I can tell if you don't! ;pThat, and my character concept is pretty thoroughly tied around the "I've had my stint as the hero, this is my retirement" ideal. She's fought a lich emperor and a proto-archdevil, among other things; she figures a school can't too thoroughly outdo that =) Excellent.
Oh! Easily distracted me, I did forget an important tidbit of information! The tale of his weapon's sordid origin and hungry pursuit was not all the cloven curmudgeon desired; he also requested someone be provided him by which he could learn the ways and wherefores of his new-donned skin. Sadly I had none of the sentinels immediately on hand, so arrangements shall have to be made in time! But worry not, for The Puck always keeps his promises! And with this lot, running out of time to live has suddenly ceased to be an issue any of them will have to deal with for quite some time. And to think, a mere year ago this little batch of oh-so-entertaining travelers was all too mortal and ephemeral. They grow up so fast.
Sessions Twenty-Five and Twenty-Six Oh-hohohohoho!!! What a delightfully entertaining batch this little team has turned out to be!! Ah, but of course, proper introductions must be levied first - anything less would hardly be polite, and The Puck is many things but never a poor guest... or host, in this case! For The Puck indeed am I, Robyn Goodfellow, herald and jester of Summer's court, companion of Oberon and minister to Our Beloved Queen, trickster of tricksters, storied bard and dashing rogue extraordinaire. But certainly you've come not to hear me speak of myself for times on end... so on with the show, as they say! I've been watching this particular batch of mortals - some now significantly less mortal than others! - for quite some time now with keen interest, and no doubt they've heard much of my exploits, if the beloved adoration toward myself of their little forest friends is any indication. When at last their trepidations following the visit of Her Dourness were concluded and they set eyes to the road once more, how joyed was I to learn that their intended destination was none other than one of my favorite haunts, the Forest of Infinite Shrouds, or as it is known among mortals the Mazewood. Patience prevailed and I managed to restrain myself from introductions until I was prepared to serve as a suitable host and guide of my part-time demesne, but I only have so much of such and as night fell while they rested at my doorstep I couldn't wait another moment and invited them in whilst most of them slept. This of course caused a teensy bit of disruption and flailing about in midnight panic as they attempted to wriggle free an exit from the wood's grasp... but heehee! No such luck! Even the erstwhile dragon attempted to fly free, only for the perplexing aura of this mad place to send him careening back toward the ground without realizing he'd changed directions midair. The Huntress, come morn, was all too excited and eager to explore after finding herself within my realm, while Her Majesty and the Grumpy Guardian were in a bit too much of a hurry to leave for my taste. I set myself to entertaining them, appearing incognito a few times to direct them toward interesting paths and conversing whenever it seemed most amusing. They soon reached the bridge of Grilgruk the troll, who demanded a toll of a child's first tears or hairs from a hundred maidens to cross; after trying to convince the recently-reborn Snake Soldier to shed a tear - the first of his newborn body - with no success, the Huntress instead bartered a drop of something that should not be, which the eager troll accepted - stoppered in a glass arrowhead with a toadstool from his own foot - and allowed them to cross. It was not long after this that the Thorns halted their passage; I suggested instead that they take the opposite path, leading them into the Honeycomb Pools. Delightfully curious, the Huntress found herself pulled into one of the hives (after pursuing my severed head - apparently owls can only rotate so many times before it just pops off!) and was offered the prestigious position of Queen by the eager denizens. Meanwhile I chose that time to fully reveal myself to my guests, informing them of my generous hospitality and requesting the much-due entertainment I had expected from their visit. Prompting the Serpent to strike the Witchknife was hardly child's play, and amusing as it was to see his weapons deflate upon striking he seemed somehow disappointed. The Duchess herself attempted to flee - how rude, leaving when the party's just begun! - but I generously and gently escorted her back to the celebration, just in time for the Forester to return, having convinced the Nobility of the Below that her own hive could not do without her guidance. After some time further of inquiry and entertainment, I saluted my guests for the wonderful entertainment they had provided and began to hand out due gifts, soliciting requests as necessary. The Lady asked for a tale, inquiring as to the nature of the mysterious trinket she pursued, Briar; likewise the Magely Malcontent demanded information pertinent to the origin of his own blade. The stories blended together so well, I couldn't resist but to share them together; I located and identified the mark of our Fair Lady Cordelia hidden amidst the crimson claymore's hilt, and deigned to declare that the blade had been created to destroy a twin or counterpart, and to seek battle until its foe was discovered. Alas, it seems this was information he already knew? Perhaps he should have learned to phrase his inquiries more specifically! Hohohoho! That story segued into the tale of Briar too well to surpass; why, perhaps it might have been Briar itself the bloody blade was made to hunt! I told the heartbreaking tale of the nymph Nyrissa, an ancient child of Summer, beautiful and beloved, and how she shared love and lust freely with a noble of grand standing; however, as unchained as love is among we fey, we are no less unrestrained when it comes to jealousy, and the young nymphling found herself at the fierce end of her noble lover's bride's wrath. Poor Nyrissa was devastated, forgotten and lost, but her blazing love could not be so swiftly diminished; such a burning brand could only be reshaped, and love so fierce could have fit no form so firmly than to be reforged into a weapon unbreakable. Thus was Briar born, but alas, in the eons that followed the sword of love was lost, discarded somewhere along the way and disappeared into the ages. Where it was now, not even the Queens might know... but after all, such was the Maiden's quest to find it! If I had all the answers, the game would be over far too soon, would it not? Likewise the Serpentine Servitor sought the answer to a question internal, and allowed me a glimpse into his secluded mind to acquire the information necessary to ascertain his answer. Hohohohoho, little did he know just how close he was... but yet not close enough to take hold of that which he sought! No, no, there was time still yet until that day was to come, but a glorious day it would be to watch! The Indecisive Dragon decided to parley his payment for a favor to be fulfilled at a later date; I of course agreed, performing favors to mortals can be so entertaining! But to ensure the debt would be paid, I marked him with my emblem - that way I would be always watching and listening, ready to receive his summons when the time came. The Huntress, though, made her request reticent, and oh the delight such a simple supplication brought to me! Such was a greater price than such simple entertainment could afford, and immediately I began my search for proper payment to be procured; an old obstacle hidden deep within my demesne, however, proved the very solution I could exploit. After all, such problem-solving is what these adventuresome sorts do! I provided the exit back to the world of mortality, as has been requested, but surely curiosity overwon caution and, prompted by yours truly, the ever-inquisitive travelers journeyed deeper into the catacombed wood. Beyond the ruins and the Ever-Regrowing Stump (which is a tale unto itself, but pity, none willing to offer gifts further to hear it! Not even a tale for a tale!) they came across the Witchlight's prison - the box of light that contained a radiance from far beyond the stars. It had come to these lands as all such creatures do, to spread the madness of its alien song and feed upon the life and energy of mortal man, beast, and flora alike. They seemed content to leave it be, and - as per my advice earlier - knocked twice upon the grey tree that served as its tombstone (a tree long ago devoured of vibrancy by the very prisoner it marked) before following the resulting glimmer of light beyond. There they found the Prison of Greylight, where the mad Lurkers - exiles from the World's Shadow and the unspoken Dark Court that dwells there - who worshiped the Witchlight were being held. It wasn't but a few seconds before my guests took note of the cracks in the prison and noted their escape would be imminent; when they expressed interest in slaying the little beasties, I gladly obliged by shattering the prison to allow them to have at the lot. I released the Witchlight as well, which arrived a few moments later, much to their distaste, but a few furious slashes from the Samurai, javelins from the drago-lin, and a torrent from the Duchess finished the spectral shades before it could do much harm. They then picked off the remaining Lurkers, dismissing the light they summoned to blind the guests in their frenzy, until down to the last two... which attempted to escape, only to be chased down and chomped by the swift saurian soldier. Secure in her payment in full, I proceeded to deliver my due to the Dweller in Darkness - a kiss of severance from her scion, opening the bonds of form and initiating the metamorphosis into a creature heretofore unknown to the three realms, Wyld and unbound as per her desires. The changes were gradual over the following days as they departed my demesne and began the journey back toward their dominion. On the first her skin darkened, shifting from the alabaster of the undead to the warm brown-light of tree's heartwood, her hair from ebon black to the warmth of autumn's red. On the second roots took hold in her spine and shoulders, her ears established their elven ascent, and the eager hunger of a plant's drive for light and life set root within her heart as bone unbidden gave way to wood. On the third her flora budded, beginning the growth of the cloak of leaves and moss that would forever adorn her shoulders, unnaturally swiftly moving from spring green to autumn radiance, and the growth of the powerful vine that would forever serve her as a useful third limb. By the time she arrived back at their dwelling place, the transformation was complete, the daughter of the dead born living was no more and the first child of the black forest risen from the grave of her skin!
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