Sylva of course wants to make sure everyone is healed up before she gladly proceeds northward.
“Gross, yeah… but we’ve been through worse. Um… haven’t we?” I hope I’m not being desensitized..!
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“Ow! You just made your last mistake!” She strikes!
“—maybe your second-last mistake,” she mumbles as her attacks don’t quite hit like before. Opportune Strike:
OS last round:
Sylva agrees it’s fun, but her wild attacks seem to hit either really hard or not at all!
OS this round:
“Ouch!” Sylva yelps. “If you stayed in the tank, we wouldn’t be having issues. But we are having issues, so HIYAA!”
If the enemy drops in two blows, Sylva moves to the remaining foe!
After having a centaur’s guts rain upon her, being doused with the blood of a predatory bird, and her traumatic experience of following the trail of a woman’s blood spilled over the saddle of her trotting steed… the little sprite has become hardened to the realities of the Big People’s world. Watching this abomination die a gory death doesn’t faze her as it sure would have a week or two ago. She fights the next enemy as if nothing happened other than tge removal of a threat to her batty friend.
Sylva harrumphs, “Immune to my Ice Scream, eh? Well maybe you prefer a knuckle sandwich!” She throws a punch. “And some toe jam!” She follows with a kick!
Sylva is pretty freaked out. She hopes that the liquid forms are vulnerable to her only magic attack: harsh language!
Sylva ▶️moves to the relative safety of Sir Bat’s shield!
Sylva peers at the creature in the tank. “As an aquatic fairy, I most highly recommend a soothing bath. It soothes you! Really!”
In case her clever trickery doesn’t work, Sylva keeps working on the valves and latches and such…
Sylva panics as the Guest tries to bust out. “Eep!” Her evanscent wings get her exactly where she needs to reach, and the tiny rogue very desperately tries to use her tools to oppose the breakout attempt!
“Stay in there, ya multi-eyed ogler with a tinkling fetish!”
Sylva looks at the levers. ”Okay… why would we want to… umm… what would the consequence be it… umm…?”
“…Zienvus? You probably know how contraptions are supposed to work from all that academic stuff you do, right?”
Sylva grimaces awkwardly. “Is there a way to turn the scrying off while I pee?”
“Aww, but it’s heard to sneak up on the bad guys if I gotta lug something heavy.” Sylva knocks on the shield, and it certainly feels like a heavy thing to her!
With one creature left, Sylva goes for the knockout blow! <You might be glittery, but this is not your time to shine!>
Sylva strikes back!
—and yells cold harsh words in Draconic!
Sylva warns her team, [b]“Something invisible’s here!”
Her voice is loud and shrill and frigid! A cone of icy breath freezes whoever or whatever is barging in!
Zienus’ dry humor puts a small smile on Sylva’s face, despite the grim sight. Seeing that Sir Bat wants to go on, Sylva uses her skills to hopefully get everyone through the locking-and-possibly-trapped doors safely.
“Okay… Brain removal. There’s never a good reason for that, or else our skulls would have come with a separate Lid-Bone. Skulls don’t have a natural opening, and that’s not a design flaw. Hahaha.” He laugh is not a laugh to be cute or because she thinks she’s funny. It’s definitely a nervous laugh. Sylva is terrified and her bravado is, at the moment, unconvincing.
Sylva stares at the diagram, but her mind is wandering. It’s the telepathic ooze whale. Or so she tells herself. Yeah, when you f*++ up, blame the ooze whale… “The oo… well… uhh… yeah. This is way over my head.” Don’t blame the ooze whale when you can make a self-deprecating short-joke. Good save, she tries to convince herself.
Dr. Rit—OOH! Sylva flits back in the room (with her hand raised). “Ooh! I just thought of a quesh…ton.” Seeing the oozy creature is gone, Sylva lowers her hand and fades into the shadows.
Sylva feels a sense of relief as the being does not attack. She isn’t sure whether she should follow its instructions… but it’s not like the mystery’s gonna solve itself. She replies, “Haha, okay, thanks,” and starts moving toward the blessed one…
Sylva replies, “I put one of Dr. Ritalson’s pure silver forks in my room, so that klepto-maniacal appetite of mine is satiated for now.” She looks at Sir Bat and Zienivus for a moment, an expression of grim resignation betraying her bravado before she turns back to the monstrosity. “All I remember was money—but it’s money I can never have! And it’s money I don’t even want if I can’t earn it without bloodshed! “So no, I don’t know what my Missing Moment is missing!! I don’t know if I wanna know.” And from the quiver in her voice before she shuts up, Sir Bat has his answer. Yes, Sylva feels a chill. She’s terrified. Not just of the ooze-monster (though it certainly is on her Top Two list of Scary Things), but of the unknown. A memory was taken from Sylva and the other gatewalkers… what was it? How is it possible that so many people forgot? And why are demonic creatures so interested in those who bear the mark?
Sylva replies to Snowy Owl, “Speaking of unusual powers, if any of you cast ice magic, I think I can actually harness the magic.”
She tries to avoid notice as the party pushes forward.
Sylva is in shock. “But… he was so forgiving when I stole his…” Fork. It was a fork. A fork, even one made of pure silver, is nothing to a wealthy man. Sylva’s guilt was what made it something. And looking back, the good doctor even pulled Nox to a new operation when the elderly sprite seemed to care more about a serial killer than his innocent victim. He slapped me… and suddenly he was reassigned. She dismisses this as coincidence. Nox’s replacement and other guests, such as Lunja, are obviously not ‘in on it’ or ‘keeping tabs.’ Focusing on the here-and-now: Sir Bat has always been a sprite Sylva trusted with her life. Snowy Owl has undergone a beautiful and holy transformation. And her trust to Zienvus is mutual, she’s sure, as he is sharing this information. And he was right… the fiends were here to guard Dr. Ritalson’s secret. Which means she was a fool to trust the ‘good’ doctor. Maybe even ‘doctor’ should get air-quotes. “Sir Bat, Zienvus… I fear the doctor—” (Sylva does not make air-quotes with her fingers.) “—has a reason for gathering us. That is, people with the mark of the missing moment.” She activates the dweomerweave robe’s magic, transforming her outfit so the top is just a bandeau. And the bottom is a shin-length pair of cloths that cover her front and back but expose the sides of her legs. The mark is nearly her full five-inch height! Two dots on her cheeks, one on each shoulder. The gate’s arc above her breasts, down her torso. The mountain peak at her belly button, with lines down each leg to form the mountainsides. (Sylva is too ladylike to stand in the way that would correctly shape the slopes, but aside from that) she turns to Snowy Owl, letting the newly-ordained deity get a good look at the mark (or as much as Sylva is willing to show, for decency’s sake). “Is there power in this mark?” Obviously there is, or she wouldn’t scream ice, but what Sylva means is: “Power that can be exploited, or…” She recalls the fate that the victim on the horse had escaped… unlike her friend who (in a sense) became the monster that killed her. And she swallows hard, complexion paling… “…consumed?”
Sylva suggests, “I’ll stand guard while someone who can read all that reads all that.” She assumes that person is not Sir Bat, “Care to join me, Sir Bat? …in just standing here? Guarding?”
Sylva eases out of her fighting stance, relaxes her clenched fists… “Haha! Wow, that was not what I expected to find in Dr. Ritalson’s home!” She’s laughing from the relief—as in good thing we stopped this, but her face grows serious. “Hey wait a minute—if these things’re in his home, and we ain’t seen him… should we be worried?” She considers the Doctor’s last letter, the reassignments, the invitations… at the very least, she doesn’t think he’s ‘in on it’—whatever ‘it’ might be. And there isn’t a trail of blood, so no sense worrying that he’s hurt-or-worse. He’s not home, she tells herself. That’s the story ya been told and you’re stickin’ to it (until further notice). She puts on a smile. It’s probably convincing as far as false smiles go… but probably unconvincing since nobody follows ‘should-we-worry’ with a smile. “Well… the good doctor definitely won’t object to further exploration. Are ya hurt?” she asks the men.
“Didn’t your summoner ever tell ya not to play with fire?” Sylva continues to clobber the flanked foe!
“C’mon, Sir Bat—let’s clean up this hot mess!” In case word-plays are not the best way to communicate a plan, she adds, “In other words, hit the guy next to me so I can knock him out while he’s distracted.” Opportune Backstab:
Sylva chases the creature that dared ignore her! “Hey! Just because you can easily step over the melee team, doesn’t mean you should!” She cartwheels across the floor—“AIAIAIAIAI!!”—and wheel-kicks and axe-kicks the jerk that rushed the caster!
Sylva rushes from the flames, rolling toward the enemy that took the most burn damage!
She punches the big jerk in the big toe.
She hits nothing but toenail.
Much to Sylva’s relief, Sir Bat calls to her! She shakes off her temptations and says, “That’s the Bat-Signal, and I gotta get to my Bat-Station! C’mon, Lunja!” . . . . Sylva arrives just in Bat-Time, only to see what Sir Bat really wants. “Oh… the lock.” Great, now the Bronze Bat wants me to do his dirty work too! But she
Sylva shudders at the temptation she’s feeling. “Are you suggesting I… that I… ‘investigate?’” Dr. Ritalson was very kind to her when she tried to take that fork. (She has it in her room, but intends to put it back when it’s time to leave.) “I don’t know if I should.” She looks to Lunja for guidance. “What, umm…?” Sylva is struggling to even get her question out. In her heart she *knows* what she’s really asking: —for Lunja to do the rationalizing so Sylva can convince herself that investing is not the same as breaking and entering. And really… I wouldn’t be *breaking*…
“Yes! I was on Castrovel!” She describes the alien scenery and how she and her friends “rode wayyyy way up some kinda floating platform and flying creatures tried to eat me..!”
She goes on in detail about the wonderful people she met, especially Alleli whom Sylva remembers quite fondly. “I mean not like I had a crush on her or anything like that, but I felt she had a connection here, maybe with Snowy Owl? I mighta been reading too much into it, but the idea of connecting with another person across space is beautiful, in the way romance is, even if there wasn’t actually any romance there. “Brilliant woman anyway! And the device she used to zap us home—” Sylva talks about the many accidental detours on the way back. She “tries” not to brag about single-handedly kicking a wight’s frigid butt… but if Lunja’s interested in a fight story, she downplays her epic awesomeness by confessing to her “fear-induced adrenaline rush. “But after that, Alleli aimed the thing and we were home-sweet-home!”
Sylva replies to Zienvus, “I think that’s a great idea. I’ll talk to Lunja.” She heads to the westernmost lounge and looks out the skylight. “The stars must be over a hundred miles away. Maybe even over two hundred.” Sylva grins. “There was an elder sprite with us, and it drove him crazy when I understated the unfathomable vastness of space! But if my idea of a joke annoys you, you’re not alone. I’ve been booed of many a stage.” Her face becomes more serious. Not because of her failure as a comedienne. It’s the stars themselves. “I was out there.” She points to a star. “I’m definitely pointing at the wrong star, but a lot happened out there and it changed me completely. But I think I became stronger, thanks to my friends… not just the ones I’m here with. There was also Alleli.” Sylva turns her gaze from the wrong star. She faces Lunja. “You two share an interest. That’s also an understatement. Alleli knows a lot about stars—enough that she shot me and my friends across space and got us safely home. “I wonder if she knows we made it.”
Sylva curtsies to Ulwin. “Thank you, Mr. Kivorak. I will make myself at home. A moment, please.” She heads to the dining are. After a minute, if that, she is back. In her hands is a silver desert fork which is two inches longer than the sprite is tall. “Sentimental value,” she not-really-explains. “Dr. Ritalson will understand—and I’m just gonna keep it in my room, while I’m her, ’kay?”
Get the Fork Outta Here: Sylva Belle was ready to get out there in the world and entertain! She hadn’t quite figured out how—not exactly!—but the who part was obvious.
“Big people!” she told her family. “Y’know, like the fairy from Three Men and a Fairy? She earned her wings in a human world, and now she’s a dancer and a princess’ bride! “I don’t know if I’ll marry a human princess or beat big people up, but… there’s a stage with my name on it. Not the stage itself, but that program they pass out to spectators? Yeah. My name would be on that!” After a comedy act, a song, a dance across piano keys, Sylva started to wonder if there was a misprint on the program. “It’s possible they misspelled my name B-O-O, and the guy who threw the tomato coulda thought I was hungry. If it was fresh, a tomato wouldn’t be a bad pay day.” After she was done talking to the unconscious drunk, Sylva set out to find the next town that would adore her until she ruined everything. And then it happened. She saw the light! “With all this,” she explained to a curious squirrel, “I could afford a stage of my own, and a big person to cart it around! I wouldn’t have to Walk-of-Shame outta town! I could Ride-in-Style outta town!” The squirrel staring at the portal chittered and skittered away. Sylva went the opposite direction: to mountains of treasure with her name on it! Not the treasure itself, but that deed that’ll say it’s legally hers. And then it was… gone. It was later explained to Sylva and a couple of fellow sprites that what was seen in the portal was one’s Most Important Thing. Money, she thought to herself. Not love, not fame… just money. And no one to share it with. With that thought, she sucked all the color right out of the room. And stole a fork because it was shiny, and if every place setting had two, there were obviously enough to spare.
<You’re from the Sylvan for—?> The little sprite’s eyes light up when it’s apparent that the scholar is fluent in Sylvan. She continues to speak in her native tongue. <It is quite beautiful there. The allure of human civilization is what prompted me to get out and see the world. But after this is done…> She doesn’t dare speak in future tense. That last demon was more than she could even handle. <Well, let’s just get each other through this, then maybe make plans for a safer world, right?> Still, she adds, <It would be nice to ditch all the material stuff and get back to nature.>
“I guess that leaves me in the middle with my preference for silver.” She isn’t actually wearing silver at the moment, though she could change her attire magically anytime. “Well… I wear the seven colors of Shelyn. But, if someday I get in the habit of wearing jewelry, silver goes with anything. And it’s cheaper than gold.” She wonders if Sir Bat’s jokes land more often that her own, or if anyone can even tell if she’s joking at all. But in any case, she’s enjoying the break from demon slaying. That, and the chance to try to actually know Zienvus! Evedyone’s been so busy keeping each other alive, she hasn’t even asked— “Did you also have a teacher who gave… advice?” —well, she hadn’t actually thought of a particular question. “What kind of school did you go to? I mean… magic, but… as a scholar, you umm… well, y’know. You’re not like me just studying one thing. Two if you count the medical stuff. What were you passionate about, as a student?”
Sylva plays some banjo tunes on the trip back, and sometimes sings songs about food— P B and Jaaaaaay…
—which usually eventually prompts her to put her instrument down and open up her rations. She tends to just hold her food and talk a bit before wolfing down what seems to be more than a five-inch, one-ounce woman can eat. “So I was thinking when I saw Snowy Owl and Ruun, that I’ve got this connection to water and ice. I mean, I’m part undine… which is a curious lineage, since that means I’ve got some really big ancestors on my mom’s side, but anyway, I also got that Ice Scream thing I do. “I wanted to ask Snowy Owl about that, but it was her first day as a goddess. I didn’t want to give her that kinda pressure ’cause first days are hard enough. My first day on stage, not an hour before I had to go on, I got asked, ‘do you think humans will find your jokes funny?’ And I’m like, ‘I don’t know, Mom. Do you think they’re funny?’ “I never did ask the follow-up question, ‘so how come you never laugh?’” She’s about to take a bite of her ration, but before she does, she says, “Prob’ly for the best. My music teacher told me that the only stupid question is the one that was never asked.” She finally busies her mouth with eating.
“Couldn’t’ve done it without that spell,” Sylva admits as she mummifies her leg in bandages. Looking up at the spiritual guide (or what she has now become!), the little sprite gives the new name a try. “Snowy Owl, it was a privilege to get you through this safely.” She’s not sure what’s in store for herself now, but is too focused on treating her own wounds to contemplate the road ahead.
Sylva strikes back! Or is she unconscious, merely dreaming she kicks and punches like Sister-Princess Hotcha P.P.P. Twinkletoes herself!
Sylva fears retribution after landing that attention-getting-blow, but she knows by now how this works. Fleeing is not an option.
Sylva gets up and hastily attacks!
“Thanks,” Sylva replies as her fists move so fast—
—even she can’t keep up with them!
Sylva suspects that moving aside will not save her limbs. She uses those limbs while they’re still attached to her body. “Let’s give him a taste of The Usual, Batty!”
Sylva let’s Sir Bat take care of all of the healing this time…! When warned of the powerful demon, she contemplates preparations.
Sylva gets clobbered! She strikes back!
…or… tries to.
Sylva realizes Zienvus means that it’s possible an unfortunate adventurer was devoured. But rather than dwell on the disturbing imagery, she reminisces— “Haha, that reminds me, I once opened for a sword swallowing act. I got booed off the stage, so I didn’t get the see the act, but it makes sense that a swallowed sword would still be in the guy. I mean, how would you pass it?”
Sylva watches the creature burn up. “Are the gods challenging us or them? Because seriously, we keep killing these demon things, and I’m starting to wonder if we’re unwittingly instruments of wrath.” She takes out her med kit, and starts treating Sir Batman.
She says to Sakuachi, “No offense meant to the gods. I just wonder what these monsters’ deals are. Is it like the gods see a demon that needs to be sent back to hell, so that’s the challenge for us because of timing? “Or did these demons take down a lot of others like us, and we happened to be the winners? “Or… or!” She has to stop talking as she stitches a wound, working around other stitching that’s actually been magically healed over. “Or were these demons waiting around like, ‘oh wow, the gods need me to be their challenge guy, I hope I don’t screw this up.’ ’Cause I bombed my first time on stage, and I ended my show with ‘Thanks, I’ll be here all week,’ and I bombed all week. “They say I ‘died on stage.’” She gestures to the charred remains. “Coulda been worse though.” She then says to the smoldering corpse, “At least you didn’t get booed.”
Sylva thinks fire is working. Her punches and kicks certainly aren’t! “Burn it! Send it to Hell!”
“—ON A COLD DAY!”
She isn’t sure how well her icy breath will work—
—but her fist does the trick (this time)!
Sylva knows that the smart tactic would be hit-and-run. But… “Stop playing squid games, you weird vegetable!” Sylva hopes to compensate for her weak trash-talk with a strong attack—
—but her tiny limbs do nothing to the wild plant-creature!
Sylva points a blood-stained finger at Sir Bat. “I’m the only rogue you kn—eep??” She hastily undresses a wound as warmth oozes from her abdomen. But before she can cry out or pass out from the pain, the champion’s touch cures the internal bleeding. Zienvus picks up the wand and looks about the group, "It seems to me this will be most effective in my hands." “It’s all yours. Besides, I’m a water-fairy.”
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