Very well then. Go away, and do not bother us again unless it is important. We do not like being bothered. She pauses. Except occasionally by cadres of naive, enthusiastic, paladins, that is.
Please remember that we are mythalogical, and that we prefer things to be left that way to avoid being bothered.
Oh, and one more thing:
She waves a hand and a wave of searing white hot agony wracks Ashaundra, tearing at even her very soul.
Please remember that you only have yourself to blame now if anyone recognises or comes after you.
Oh, and welcome to the Abyssal end of the spectrum.
Ashaundra is now a succubus, a native of the Abyss, if that's okay with you?
In addition:
I suspect any magical obligation with regard to Ashaundra's servitude to the Carnival of Tears has just expired too; whether or not she feels any sense of personal obligation (to Jack of tears, personally?) is up to her.
Charles Evans 25 wrote: In addition:
I suspect any magical obligation with regard to Ashaundra's servitude to the Carnival of Tears has just expired too; whether or not she feels any sense of personal obligation (to Jack of tears, personally?) is up to her.
Cool. :) (Goes to make new alias for Ash) :)
Aramintha Jaine wrote: Very well then. Go away, and do not bother us again unless it is important. We do not like being bothered. She pauses. Except occasionally by cadres of naive, enthusiastic, paladins, that is.
Please remember that we are mythalogical, and that we prefer things to be left that way to avoid being bothered.
Oh, and one more thing:
She waves a hand and a wave of searing white hot agony wracks Ashaundra, tearing at even her very soul.
Please remember that you only have yourself to blame now if anyone recognises or comes after you.
Oh, and welcome to the Abyssal end of the spectrum.
Ashaundra is now a succubus, a native of the Abyss, if that's okay with you?
"Thank you, my lady," Ash says, bowing humbly and leaving at best speed as instructed.
Regaining something remotely resembling their 'everyday' appearance, Aramintha fussing over her ripped dress, and Shovastika doing her best to help salvage it, the pair return to their tea on the terrace.
Those cornugons are *gone* gone. Erased from existence. No word is going to get back to Z-K of what happened from that end, and it might make sense for him to reason that whatever obliterated them also disposed of Ashaundra. (Which in a sense, did happen.)
The afternoon is passing to a pleasant close, when the darkness rolls over the mountains, seeking, searching, hunting.
Oddly, as the preternatural darkness rolls overhead, and shadow falls over everything else, an illumination, as of a light long gone and forgotten gleams steadily from the terrace overlooking the tea-plantation, piercing the shadows that fall everywhere else.
The Night Dragon ignores the distracting glow of a pair of the Daughters of the Morning, deeming it unlikely that such would harbour her quarry.
She concludes her search of the mountain chain and moves elsewhere.
Well. I wonder what has got her blood up quite so urgently? Shovastika comments as the darkness rolls on elsewhere.
She sees the quizzical glance of her companion.
Oh, that was the Night Dragon. Long story. I must tell you about it some time, if none of the others do.
The servants who have seen the fight earlier, and now the light, are left wondering what manner of creature their mistress is?
Following his brief excursion to deal with the one who had so foolishly insulted the magnificence of dragons, Daelemos returns to one of his lairs, to plot and wait for the next move from the idiot child.
Currently under development were at least half a dozen complex schemes to abduct her and the stars in her possession, if her friends failed to make a move within the next few weeks.
Eventually the tea and scones come to an end, and Aramintha goes on her way, and Shovastika, after seeing to the clearing up, goes about her own business.
Deep below the surface a small tendril of root slowly works its way toward Daelemos's lair.
And there is NO FRICKING WAY that his lair is warded against attack by the World Ash, I don't care how ancient and powerful he is. :)
He could probably ward one lair, but he has multiple lairs.
I'm assuming you have targetting information here, so know which one to go for.
There are many things besides Daelemos lurking in the roots of the mountains, some of them otherwise Nameless.
A handful of these denizens of the depths, spawned in aeons past by the Midgaard Serpent, sense the burning life-beacon of the World Ash and home in on the root, going into a feeding frenzy.
Meanwhile, gnomes coming across strands of the severed root, and discovering how resilient it is, requiring vorpal edged weapons to chop it up more conveniently, collect a couple of dead and lifeless samples to show their master.
Well, you've got his attention here probably, anyway.
While the gnomes and other underground horrors are busy chopping at one root, another tunnels through the earth. Tendrils begin to wrap around the lair where Daelemos has hidden the stars he stole. Eventually some of them begin to pierce the walls creeping through the lair faster than his servants can chop them away.
Edited (toned down):
Daelemos watches the invasion amused. Last time someone used the World-Ash to trash one of his lairs it took the tree ten thousand years to recover the resources expended and in the interim the Midgaard Serpent took advantage of the opportunity offered by the weakened state of the tree to directly contribute to the downfall of an entire pantheon of gods.
Daelemos activates his contingency plans, takes a piece of broken and dead root with him for divination purposes to determine the origin point of this attack, and evacuates somewhere where he will not be bothered for a while by anything associated with the green.
He takes a few choice items from the hoard in question here with him (including the stars) and leaves the mere precious metals and gems behind.
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