I know she plans to do so with all the games she's leaving when she is able.
Search Posts
While I would happily play Witchlight again, I am not interested in continuing Willow's story with another DM. For the rest of you, I will see you around on the boards.
Plus, a vast age difference like that would have also made the idea of a kissing booth competition in Exandria pretty weird, too. ;)
You also had (and still have) halfling luck. Orgy would have just been 3 years ago for Willow.
Willow is only 18 right now. I'm quite certain Karley isn't 6 years younger than her. Iirc Karley was maybe 6 at the youngest when this started... But you should know that better than I. Lol. There is an obvious loophole - Willow misremembered Karley's participation due to the psychedelics.
Willow stares, silver eyes as round as a full moon at Demalyn's exceptionally debauched (and somewhat disturbing) story. She chuckles smilelessly, clearly impressed by the dryad's sister's methods. She then turns to listen to Karley's story, brows raised at the bizarre story. The tiefling wrinkles her nose at the halfling, shaking her head. "Telling a story about a different you is a cop-out, and you know it. Luckily, one of my most scandalous encounters includes you, so you don't get to wiggle your way out of it that easily," Willow says, wagging her finger at Karley admonishingly. The cleric leans back, hands on her knees, and then launches into her own story. "By the time I hit 15, I rarely spent the night alone. In hindsight, far too young to be engaging in such things, but I sought validation through that and all manner of mind-altering substances. I was, of course, a poor example for Miss Rumblemuffin," the tiefling pauses to gesture at Karley with a bemused expression. "She got dragged to some of these parties, too...and about a year ago, we had set up the carnival for a particularly powerful Archfey...a special request..." Willow continues on, relating a tale that involved mixing alcohol and a few different types of psychedelics at the beginning of the night and ended with Karley, Willow, the Archfey who threw the party, an imp, a satyr, and a few random other Fey waking up curled up around one another as naked as the day they were born. "The imp followed Karley around for a bit," Willow says, giggling madly and wincing a bit from the pain of her smile. The tiefling schooled her face back into careful neutrality, eyes still glittering with amusement. She turned her gaze to both Adela, Khalil, and Nuruk, raising her eyebrows with interest. "Your turns."
Willow snorts at Vash's comment, eyebrows raising. "I think you'd be surprised," She mutters before Nuruk chimes in. She squeezes Nuruk's hand in return, biting her lip to contain the smile that threatened to sneak out. Willow turns a bemused expression on Demalyn, nodding politely to the confused dryad. "Khalil has it right - drinking, partying, sex. It's all under that umbrella. Nothing you're actually uncomfortable sharing, though. It's just a bit of fun," The purple tiefling leaned back against Nuruk, crossing her legs and turning her gaze to the halfling sorceress, a fake-stern look on her face. "You have to tell us a real story, not your little riddle stories. Or I'll tell one about you instead...and I have several."
Willow would sit with the others before they all turned in, enjoying the chance to relax and enjoy the company of her friends, new and old. "Alright," Willow says, a smileless, amused expression on her face. "We're close to our first goal...I think now is a good time to tell our best debauched stories, hmmm?" The cleric would pull a flask from her pouch, take a drink, and offer it to the others. "Nose goes?" She proposes, quickly moving to tap her small, button nose with her index finger.
When Willow used the key in the courtyard, a small, mushroom-shaped hut appeared. Willow looked pleased, her tail whipping back and forth as she inspected the outside, running her hand along the rustic, wooden door and the flowering vines that were around it. When she entered, the inside was quite simple: a large, comfortable bed took up most of the space, piled with pillows and blankets in shades of purple, pink, and light blue, all swirling together like a cloud. When it was made, she went and gathered Nuruk and waved at the rest of the Defenders. "Goodnight, everyone. See you all in the morning," She says pleasantly, her small, lavender fingers weaving between the dragonborn's golden, scaled ones while they disappeared into the hut.
Willow sits quietly for most of this, not having much to offer to the conversation other than a polite, pleasant look. She leans against Nuruk, looking pleased that Adela was satisfied with her place in the Feywild. The cleric quietly added this injustice to the long list of things that she was holding against Bavlorna. She would surely savor the taste of vengeance when they were able to get their hands on the hag. "Rest isn't a bad idea, I think..." Willow offers, thinking about the possibility of another bath to get the smell of swamp out of her hair, if only for a moment. "And maybe some real food." The cleric turns her face toward Nuruk with a bemused expression, wiggling her eyebrows at the dragonborn. "That key I got from Jingle-Jangle apparently makes a private hut overnight...next time we can settle in for a night," She murmurs to the paladin with a raised eyebrow, pitching her voice low.
Willow's face breaks out into a small smile and then immediately, she covers her mouth with a wince. She nods at the half-elf as she works to school her expression back to neutrality, eyebrows raised and jaw tensing just enough to betray her mild amusement. "I'm just teasing, Vash." The cleric finds a seat of her own next to Nuruk, leaning into the golden paladin affectionately before looking at the duchess. "What do you plan to do now, Adela?"
Willow schools her face into something as pleasant as she can muster without smiling, raising an eyebrow at Vashrin. She huffs softly, wondering if this will result in her winning the bet–him or Karley. The tiefling looks the woman up and down, frowning softly. She digs in her bag, pulls out one of her extra changes of clothing, and approaches the newly-transformed woman with soft black breeches and a purple tunic. ”Welcome back. I’m Willow. I thought you might like a change of clothing,” She says, a bemused expression on her face as she offers the garments.
Sorry for my prolonged silence! Life has been a little weird and my partner has been having a really bad time with mental health so I've been trying to balance all the other things and that and posting fell by the wayside. Now that Paizo is unblocked again, it's easier to get caught up. :)
Willow's eyebrows raised as she witnessed her lover's patience pushed to its limit. She crosses her arms behind her back as she watches before turning her attention back to Vashrin with a nod. "What about entertainment?"
Will update tomorrow - work has been busy and I am exhausted.
Willow chuckles softly at Vash’s comment, shaking her head. ”They’re sweet. It’s nice to see Khalil so animated. He’s so quiet with us.” She watches them a moment, biting down on the corner of her mouth to stifle a smile at the sight of their romance. ”I still have bets on you, Vash. You’ve got the whole angsty musician thing down,” She replies, amusement in her tone despite her neutral face. ”People love that.” Willow watches the pixies flit around her lover with mild amusement, raising her eyebrows at Vash’s statement. She had caught Nuruk’s introduction to the pixies and made note of her inclusion in the introduction. A small flush appeared on her cheeks, darkening the lavender skin to a deeper tone. She didn’t reply, but Vash would notice her struggling not to smile before she turned her attention to the strange, undulating cake. ”It really isn’t. Surely, we don’t have to eat it?” She mutters to Vash, her distraction over Nuruk letting worry seep into her tone.
Willow stares at the half-elf for a long moment, silver eyes narrowing at him before sighing heavily. "Fine, keep your secrets." Willow bites the inside of her lips to resist a grin, squeezing the bard's shoulder affectionately. "I suppose we should go check on how the others are doing...especially Karley." Willow will exit the hut with Vashrin, looking about at the others who are completing their tasks. As she surveys things, Willow bites down another smile as she catches Demalyn's giggle and Khalil's enraptured expression, deciding to leave the pair to their own devices. She makes her way over to Nuruk and Karley, eyebrows raising at the sight of the golden dragonborn with a face full of little fae. "Need any help over here?"
"I've seen a lot of weird shit working at the carnival, but never that," Willow replies, chuckling softly at Vash's statement. "Mm, before we go though. I'm going to trigger my curse, but are you alright? I've been worried about you since the inn. Got all introspective, then everything...literally blew up." She looks a little embarrassed and then powers through. "I know we've all been apart for a while, but...we all went through a lot since that day. You don't have to carry it alone, you know?"
Willow looks surprised as Vash drops the recipe book in, but shrugs. "I mean, sometimes it really is that simple," She replies, clapping Vash on the shoulder and giving it a squeeze. "Good thinking...better than poking it," She finishes wryly, crossing her arms over her chest and watching the pot.
Willow yelped as the torch went flying, then huffed with smileless laughter, looking at Vash as he approached. "Well, I'm glad I listened to you!" Willow says, running her finger along the recipe. "Hmmm... I think you're onto something with digging around this room."
"Good point..." Willow digs in her backpack and pulls out one of her unlit torches, then proceeds to poke the gray mass in the pot. "Let's hope it doesn't eat me," she mutters, amusement coloring her tone.
"Ah, I'm used to it," Willow replies with a shrug. "It's less annoying with you all. You guys get it." She offers him the most pleasant expression she's capable of--slightly raised brows, face just on the edge of a smile. "I've felt a lot more comfortable expressing those things since being around you all. I know it's not comfortable for you all to react that way, though." Vash and Willow headed inside. The hovel is a mildewed home with moldy furniture that look like they were once very expensive. Aside from the mold, it was relatively uncluttered and seemed tidy. Over the fire hangs a large pot containing some shapeless gray substance. A recipe book is open beside the pot on a marked page labeled “Put in pot to make a cake”. The recipe calls for odd ingredients -- lost hope, crocodile tears, snake oil, and a sweet tooth, to name a few. When they enter the hovel, Willow is viscerally blown away by the scent of the place: the earthy, gritty scent of the mold mixed with the mildew is strong and unpleasant. She glances around in dismay and snaps her fingers, using her thaumaturgy cantrip to force the windows open and allow for a breeze in the hovel. "This is horrendous," she comments, picking her way toward the large pot and peering inside. "It 'refuses to be made,' hmm? Think I should poke it?" Willow held a hand over the pot's opening. She really wants to poke it.
Sorry my posting has been erratic and slow. The holidays are not a very good time for me this year because of grief and all the struggles that has been bringing. I probably won't get anything up tonight. Thanks for your patience. (If you see this more than once, I'm copy-pasting it to my other games!)
Willow raises her eyebrows at the barked order from the ogre woman and glances over at Vash with mild indignation. "Wait, what? I don't even know how to make a cake..." Willow mutters, worry coloring her tone. "I mean...I guess we might as well go along with it for now?" Willow says with a sigh, shrugging at the rest of the group. If there is no protest, Willow will wander in where she was directed to see what they were in for.
Yesterday was a bad day for me, but I'm working on getting caught up. Have to put a pause while I run errands before the super fun winter storm hits and then I will get a Willow post up. <3
Willow pauses as they approach the hovel, peering around Nuruk's broad body to try to figure out who or what the large figure is before they approach.
"Things weren't luxurious at the carnival but it was certainly dry and comfortable." She replies. "I liked the lavender touch. It's my favorite smell." She makes a small pleased sound after she speaks. While they walk, Willow will look around to keep an eye out for anything interesting.
"I just bought my before the carnival arrived back in our home plane, too. Most of my gear, really." Willow comments to Vash, falling into step beside the half-elf. "Brand new, covered in swamp muck. Will the smell ever leave? Who knows. I'm apparently far too spoiled to handle adventuring," she finishes in a self-deprecating tone. She steps carefully over some branches, glancing at the bard with a bemused expression. "I'm surprised that harengon fellow didn't try to square up with you again. He must have been shocked to see you."
Willow kept her mean streak going to cow the remaining harengon, making them promise not to interfere with the Defenders' business in the Feywild in any capacity.
Willow sits in the middle of the raft with Nuruk, keeping an eye on things--especially as it seems their normal guide is quite (understandably) distracted by a certain pretty dryad. Eventually, they hit the edge of the waterways they can travel, and have to continue on foot. "You, ah, still have those boots, right, Nuruk?" Willow asks, sighing over the squelching sound the mud makes when she steps off of the moored raft. "Going to just follow in your wake..." The cleric looks around, trying to find a path for them to follow.
Being wholly unfamiliar with this type of terrain, she finds herself concentrating more on following in Nuruk's wake to avoid the worst of the muck than actually figuring out where they are.
Willow hums with happiness after Nuruk squeezes, her face schooled into careful stoicism. "Glad to have you with us, Demalyn. I'd smile, but I'm cursed." Willow says, nodding politely at Demalyn after Nuruk puts her down, a mildly bemused expression on her face. She enjoyed the displays of affection and Khalil's flustered state. Willow follows Khalil upstairs, intending to help free the harengon bandits...provided they agreed to the terms.
Willow murmured her agreement, glad to see the druid happy and more animated than she had ever seen him. The tiefling shyly crowded next to Nuruk, shifting his arm so she could nestle against his side without interrupting Khalil. The juxtaposition between what had just happened below and what was happening now was both extremely adorable and extremely Fey, and it filled Willow with warmth. Warmth and hope that she hadn't felt in some time.
"Let's head back up, then," Willow replies, content with their decision. The tiefling moves to follow Khalil up, biting the inside of her lip to keep from smiling at the scene before her. Things had been getting relatively dark, and the tiefling was feeling a little antsy. The show of care and tenderness from the druid was enough to bolster her mood, and make her feel a little less guilty for putting a man to death in such a way...even if it was more than justified.
As much as Agdon Longscarf deserved his fate, Willow found herself unable to watch the punishment being meted out by the young dragon. She turns away from it slightly, resting her forehead on Nuruk's arm. "Time to go cut the rabbits down, then, I suppose," Willow says, looking up from hiding her face once the harengon is devoured. She bumps Nuruk affectionately before turning her attention to the druid, arms crossed over her chest. "Khalil, did you find out what we need to do to help?"
A brief flash of hurt flickered across Willow's face before she reminded herself that she was, in fact, cursed, and she need not take it so personally every time it came into effect. "I suppose we should cut them down, then." She mutters, glancing up to where they had come from. "We still need to deal with the Heart of the tree," She reminds them. "We need to see what's wrong. Khalil, this seems to be your area of expertise." She gestures at the small tree in the middle of the room and tap's the druid's shoulder briefly, infusing him with divine energy. "Rescue your fair maiden," She says in a mildly teasing tone. "Then we can let Ixjharatar alone for the time being."
At his protest, Willow yanks Agdon back, pulling him toward her. "May I remind you," She says softly, dangerously, "That you only draw breath right now because of my generosity. You had your chance to play nice," She leans over to the harengon and hisses the last words to him before shoving him forward again, his scarf still wrapped around her hand and wrist. She glances at Ixjharatar and then leads the harengon over to him, offering the dragon their end of the deal. When the dragon takes Agdon (or whatever he's going to do) Willow makes her way back to the Defenders, stopping beside Nuruk, a stormy expression on her face. She crosses her arms over her chest and leans gently against the paladin. "What about Agdon's accomplices?" She asks quietly.
As Nuruk attempts to persuade the dragon, the cleric's arms strain against Agdon's attempts to flee. She bites the inside of her lip to keep from smiling at Nuruk's confidence, his change in posture, his pretty words. She nods politely to the dragon when Nuruk introduces her, quietly pleased at being referred to as the Dreamwalker's "conduit." When Khalil begins to speak, she flicks her gaze over to him and listens, glancing between him and the dragon to try to gauge the response. After the dragon gets testy over the subject of his mother, Willow glances over at Khalil. "Maybe stick with the cultist talk?" She suggests very quietly, holding off on attacking until she sees how this situation pans out but maintains the bell weapon she had summoned...just in case.
Willow yanks back on Agdon again, gritting her teeth angrily.
She feels the harengon almost escape from her grasp, but she keeps her grip on him. "You brought us down here; you get to face it with us," she snarls.
"Hey!" Willow shouts, attempting to yank Agdon back. "I didn't say you could go!"
The cleric mutters a curse in Infernal, touching her holy symbol briefly with her free hand and summoning a sparkling purple and pink bell upon the encroaching darkness. "What the hell is that?" Willow cries, waving her hand to make the bell 'gong' loudly and damage their foe.
Willow wrinkles her nose against the scent emanating from below, feeling a pit of worry begin to churn in her stomach. This was a sacred tree, part of Demalyn's being, and the fact that the swamp had penetrated so deeply did not bode well for what was below. Willow kept her grip tight on the scarf around Agdon's neck, ready to yank on it should the harengon step out of line for even an instant. Conscious of her curse, the tiefling does not voice her worry over what they're walking into.
"I think you're full of shit," Willow says flatly, but she can't figure out exactly what is sparking such a feeling. She maintains her hold on his "leash", pushing him forward ahead of them as they go, deciding Nuruk is likely right - he's testing them. "Keep an eye out," She says quietly to the rest, watching her steps and the path ahead of them carefully in case the bandit was as untrustworthy as he seemed and not just a sniveling mess.
Willow raises an eyebrow at his tone and suddenly yanks him back by the scarf, aiming to knock him to his feet. If he falls, she would stand over him with a booted foot resting on one of his shoulders, applying soft pressure to the bandit's joint. She regards the harengon with a cold stare. "What are you so excited about, Agdon?"
Willow takes a deep breath as her companions speak, closing her eyes for a moment to poke around in her mind. Something dark was lurking at the edges of her psyche, something she had not needed since rejoining the Defenders. The Fey-run carnival entertained with wild and fantastic displays of whimsy and cheerful spectacle; below the surface, well...one didn't survive eight years in a Fey-and-hag infested place without getting their hands dirty. Without developing certain skills. The cleric exhales a long, slow breath, and she opens her eyes to glance at Nuruk, a brief flash of anxiety striking her over his witnessing this side of her. She keeps one end of the harengon's scarf wrapped around her hand and wrist like a leash, gesturing grandly for Agdon to take point. "Shall we?" She would follow behind Agdon as he led the way, the blanket of shadows and silence that she maintained silencing their steps.
Willow furrows her brows at the choking harengon--she could have swore she was a little gentler than that. With the end wrapped around her wrist, Willow yanked the bandit to his feet and glanced around at the group, raising an eyebrow. She seemed to ask, 'Am I missing any details I should ask about?' and hoped her childhood friends caught on. She makes a show of considering Agdon's request, tapping at her chin with her free hand. "I promise I'll consider it, provided we get to the heart unharmed."
"Ah, well, this tree is Demalyn's home. She's a dryad. Rules of Ownership get tricky when sentience is involved, I would think." Willow glances up at Vashrin when he speaks and then nods, silver eyes glittering with amusement. "He's doing so well answering our questions. Maybe we won't need to kill him slowly." The cleric turns her gaze back to the terrified bandit and locks eyes with him. "Agdon, what's the best way to the hag's lair, and what are some of the dangers we need to look out for along the way?" Willow asks, beginning to slowly wind the scarf around her hand--just for a few wraps--to pull the harengon a little closer.
When nobody pipes up to ask their own questions, Willow continues on. When his eyes open after her healing, she regards the coward with a stony, stoic face, leaning forward in her squat a bit. Her holy symbol, the crow's foot, hangs prominently, almost tauntingly, from around her neck. "Oh yes, you will tell us anything we want. I'm glad you're feeling so cooperative. You may call me Willow. I am a servant of the Dreamwalker, although you know her as Zybilna." She pauses for a moment, reaching out to take the end of his scarf into her hands gently, running her thumbs over the magic-infused cloth. "My companions and I have heard quite a bit about you. You've got a bit of a reputation," She says, tugging at the scarf slightly to jerk him into looking at her. "Thievery. Banditry. Destroying Demalyn's home. Serving the hag," She finishes, still grasping the scarf between long, thin purple fingers. "You're going to tell us about the hag and what, exactly, you did to Demalyn's home. This tree. What happens after depends on you."
"Help me restrain him," Willow entreats the party, working with whoever will help her to prop Agdon up. "He has information we need." She unwraps the rope attached to her backpack and ties his hands together before him, then casts Cure Light Wounds on him.
She crouches down in front of him, resting her elbows on her legs as she squats. "Hello, Agdon. We have some questions for you."
Willow makes a soft 'tsk' sound and steps forward, snagging the harengon by the wrist. "Bu chòir gum biodh tu air gèilleadh. Tha Zybilna a' cur a cuid dhùrachdan," the cleric of the Dreamwalker says as she channels more divine energy through her focus and out of her fingertips. The purple glow bursts out from her hand and stabs into the harengon like so many daggers, threading under his pelt and causing the skin to erupt in weeping, putrid wounds. Sylvan: "You should have surrendered. Zybilna sends her regards."
Willow darts into the room and laughs darkly at Agdon's shout. "They're a little busy," She says scornfully, grasping her holy symbol to focus the wild, divine energy within her. Her eyes flash brightly for a moment and a duplicate of herself appears on the other side of Agdon, standing menacingly over his shoulder.
Willow would take note of the names, especially of Hurly the Bugbear, and then rejoin the others as they peek into Agdon's room. Once she is back with them, the shadows re-engulf the group (30ft radius) and blanket them in silence.
She moves away from the door to quietly speak to the others: "Let's try the same tactic. It's been working. Sneak in and try to get him all webbed up. What do you think?"
I believe we came up through a trap door into the Dryad's chamber.
|