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When you notice it, though, the envelope seizes the whole of your attention, bringing you a central focus you haven’t had since the priestess’ revelations. There, upon the (surprisingly comfortable) bush which serves As your bed in your mother’s abode, you see it. The fine, faintly-brown paper with its thin layer of protective wax… The seal, unmistakable emblem of the Hawksong Mages’ Tower… Its inexplicable presence here, without a courier, in a realm which has closed itself to the Race of Man such that even you and your father were accosted while crossing the border by means of magic… There can only be one explanation.

“Izzy,” you mutter to yourself.

Izirina Henzler. The adopted daughter of the Archmage of Hawksong. Your rival, then friend, then lover, then…

Well, things got complicated. She and her obsessive need to escape herself, and this world, are largely responsible for your own transfigured state, and your own need to leave her and that shining city she calls home behind, at least for a time.

After all you’ve learned, though, about the nature of the cosmos and its creation, and its possible redemption… You think you understand her a little better. Even so, thinking about her fills your heart with a whole spectrum of complex and troublesome feelings, and you have a lot on your mind already.

You have a sacred altar to protect from skulking agents of the Unseelie Court—dark fairies, betrayers of the Wild Gods whom your people adore. You have some unknown, unrealized, grand purpose to discover and decide how to act upon. In just a few days, you might be meeting the ACTUAL GODDESS OF THE MOON, or at least one of her nearly-as-divine daughters.

What do you do?
>Open and read the letter—you miss her
>Stow the letter away for now—you’ll read it later
>Burn the letter—you cannot bear distraction right now
>Write-in

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[For those of you just joining us, the archives of this quests and optionally, those which precede it i the timeline of this universe, though they aren't required reading are at https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=reptoidqm]

>>5877889
>Open and read the letter—you miss her

>>5877890
>Write-in: read the letter it might be important.

>>5877889
>Open and read the letter
So we can ignore her problems in an informed manner

>>5877889
>Open and read the letter—you miss her

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>>5877902
>>5877936
>>5877981
>>5877983
You stare at the letter for a while. It’s not that you miss Izirina Henzler already. It’s that you DO, a bit more than you want to admit. You just aren’t sure you SHOULD. Your spirits are bound, entangled by fate and by the same mystical rite which transformed the both of you (and Costella Fanucci, but THAT’S a whole other matter). You feel a pull towards her—towards Hawksong. You’d finally been able to get it out of your mind for a time, busy as you’ve been, but now, seeing that letter…

You sigh. There’s no sue. OBVIOUSLY, you pick it up. OF COURSE you open it. You pretty much HAVE to read it. After all, whatever you’re feeling, she went to the trouble of spiriting it here with her <Dimension Door>, or by some other even more obscure method. It’s probably important.

“Ezreal,” it begins, “I hope you are well. I understand that your journey to the Silver Realms is off to a rather remarkable start, though I do not know specifics.”

You pause. How, exactly, does she know ANYTHING about what you’ve been doing here? You feel a strange tingling, and resist the urge to look over your shoulder, but only with great effort. It’s psychosomatic—you know as much. You keep reading.

“My own studies continue, to great success. I have learned a spell to teleport inanimate objects a great distance. After some experimentation, I believe I have found a way to bypass the barriers which I have learned (only lately, sorry!) are erected around the elves’ lands.”

That explains the letter, at least. You wonder if she has yet devised a way to transport herself and other living beings in such a subtle manner. It would certainly have saved you some trouble with the strange, fungal fairies who serve as a magical ‘border patrol’ to the Sylvan (or ‘Silver’) Realms. They’d given you, your father, and the hired guide Laskar Endingray some trouble a few weeks prior, and things had nearly come to blows.

“Our friends and family are fine. Better than fine, in some cases. Costella continues your good work, serving as ambassador for your ‘feycraft’ and your ideals to the non-magical public. I do not know if they really understand or appreciate it as they ought to, but after making her acquaintance more properly, I see why you chose her. She is a very kind person, and they work you have done upon her mind and spirit ahs made her very receptive to some of the teachings I have passed on from my tutors to her.”

Izzy and Costella are hanging out now? That’s… New. Its honestly a little unsettling. Your first (only) lover, and the young woman with whom you are more recently quite close, and for whom your emotions are still undecided…

“She and I discuss you often, of course.”

Yep. THAT makes you feel weird.

>>5877889
>Open and read the letter—you miss her
I miss this bi- woman.

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>>5878019
>>5878017
And anyway… ‘Receptive’ to ‘teachings’? What exactly is Izirina up to? What sort of ‘teachings’? The way she makes Costella sound like some sort of experiment or project is a little uncomfortable. You know that’s just how Izzy can be sometimes—she WAS raised by the Archmage, an especially cold and impersonal witch of a woman—but even so.

“I think you will find yourself much more at home when you return than you ever have before. It is my hope, at least. You have done so much for Hawksong and its people. It is only right that we should do something for you.”

Your grip on the letter tightens, without your meaning to do so.

“The world is changing, but I don’t need to tell you that. Tensions continue to build, but no problem is without solutions. This world is not the only one, and I promise no harm will come to those you care about. So, have fun, and learn as much as you can. Knowledge is power, and I grow more powerful every day! I am certain you do as well, and that the time will soon come to put that power to use. Wisely and safely, of course!”

…Right. Obviously.

“Fondly,
Izzy

P.S., my tutor tells me that you are in no immediate danger, but should be ready to leave quite suddenly at some point in the future. When that time arrives, simply write a reply upon the back of this letter letting me know you are ready, reseal it, and imbue it with some of your magic. It will return to me, and I will come for you.”

Wait, WHAT? What the hell does THAT mean?!

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>>5878020
You reread the words a few times, but you derive no hidden solution to the many quandaries which arise-only more questions. Eventually, at a loss for what else to do, you tuck the letter into its envelope, and then back into your robes. It feels heavy in your pocket—heavy with unnerving implications for Hawksong and the Sylvan Realms alike. You try to put it out of your mind, since you know there’s no real way to get any immediate answers without writing Izzy back—and, apparently, thus summoning her here or spiriting yourself away—something you surely cannot do until you’ve finished your work in Dappulyet.

Tonight, as with every night since your second one here, you will protect the sacred stack of stones which serves as both altar and open-air temple to Miannie, your clan’s patron and the goddess called ‘Princess of the New Moon’. This will be the final night of the vigil before the night of the new moon itself-when Miannie’s power shall be at its zenith, the depleted moon-stone renewed, and Priestess Clanirae once more able to safeguard the holy glen by herself and without aid. It is then, also, that you have been all-but-promised a meeting with the divine princess.

This will ALSO be the Unseelie Fey’s last, best chance to seize the stone for themselves. The moon-stone, a fragment of the mystical power-source of Luna itself, holds great power, and the cast-away fey creatures covet it with incredible zeal. They are willing to kill and die for it, as they proved on your first night standing sentinel. Since then, your growing mastery of the spell <Sanctuary> has kept them at bay, returning a sense of peace and normalcy to the elves of Dappulyet—your kin. Still, you find yourself worried for THIS night. Perhaps it is just the letter’s queer tone which has set your heart aflutter and your mind abuzz… But perhaps not.

For now, though, the night is a ways away. Muffins, your faithful familiar (well, sort of, but the three-headed ‘natural chimera’ is the closest thing you have to such a thing) nudges your hip. You pat him and, after a moment, realize he is demanding food.

“Alright, alright,” you sigh, ruffling his lion head’s mane affectionately while the goat head softly bludgeons your kneecap.

You decide to source him some supper by…
>Joining the hunters of Dappulyet on a sacred hunt, to get the lion and snake heads some meat
>Going fishing with your father and Laskar Endingray at a nearby watering-hole
>Spending some time with your mother and the other elfmaids who are preparing for the upcoming feats of the new moon
>Write-in

>>5878020
welp, my loss for not checking sooner, but the option won anyway so okie dokie.
>P.S., my tutor tells me that you are in no immediate danger, but should be ready to leave quite suddenly at some point in the future.
Thereza giving "enjoy the next 24hrs" vibes.
>>5878021
>Going fishing with your father and Laskar Endingray at a nearby watering-hole

>>5878021
>Spending some time with your mother and the other elfmaids who are preparing for the upcoming feats of the new moon

Izirina always so ominous

>>5878021
>Going fishing with your father and Laskar Endingray at a nearby watering-hole

Le fish

>>5878021
>Spending some time with your mother and the other elfmaids who are preparing for the upcoming feats of the new moon

>>5878021
>Joining the hunters of Dappulyet on a sacred hunt, to get the lion and snake heads some meat.

Want to see some wild beasts

>>5878027
>>5878162
>>5878069
>>5878171
>>5878354
[Tied up, huh? I'll wait for a bit and either post tonight or tomorrow.]

>>5878021
>>Spending some time with your mother and the other elfmaids who are preparing for the upcoming feats of the new moon
elfmaids!

>>5878490
>>5878354
>>5878171
>>5878162
>>5878069
>>5878027
“Come on,” you say to your three-headed friend, “let’s get you something to eat. Mother will know what to do.”

The elfmaids of Dappulyet are largely absorbed in the preparation of the upcoming feast—that of the first day of the month, to take place at dawn following the New Moon, after the customary day of fasting. To this end, they have gathered in a great throng—great by local standards, still scarcely more than a couple dozen elves—at a great wooden table assembled in the centre of the main living area. It’s there you are headed in search of sustenance for your hungry familiar.

Muffins follows after you, bounding ahead of you with an almost comical pattern as the different heads pull him in different directions, after differing scents and opposing impulses. A few elven children playing in the grass on the outskirts of the village spot Muffins and scream with excitement. They abandon their small games and come rushing over, planting themselves squarely in Muffins’ path and clutching at his fur. Muffins, ever the attention hog, is only too happy to oblige, the lion head letting out a rumbling purr of satisfaction as the children start scratching behind his ears and cooing praises.

Only YOU seem to see the retractable claws extend, and note how the eyes of the snake-head track their movements, venomous fangs unsheathing as well.

“NOPE,” you interject, and pull you ravenous pet monster after you.

You beeline towards the feasting grounds, where the elfmaids prepare the food, while a few other elfmen such as yourself are constructing the flower wreath. As you approach, you catch sight of your mother, Mylaerlea, standing in the midst of the activity. Her expression of focused diligence lightens when she spots you.

"Ah, Ezreal," she greets you, causing a few of the other elves to glance in your direction.

There are whispers from a few young elfmaid—realistically, even the youngest your senior by at least a decade despite their youthful appearance. If you are ‘young-looking’ by the standards of your fully human peers, you are oddly mature and developed for your age by the standard of your mother’s race. It is your understanding that this, and your slightly-broader physique and newfound reputation for heroic protection of holy space, has given you a rathe ’manly’ reputation among the increasingly-coquettish unmarried women and girls of Dappulyet. It’s rather a shock, after being considered at best beautifully ANDROGYNOUS among human women for many years.

You do your best to ignore it, and the untoward suggestions your roguish father makes as to how to capitalize upon this, but it’s still flattering.

"Sit with us," your mother encourages, making room for you to join them at grassy spot, around which several ‘teenagers’ (you’d wager at least thirty years old, maybe forty) jockey for position. "Help us prepare for the feast."

>>5878529
You carefully sit as close to your mother as possible, to forestall the awkwardness of it all. Alaion Venphrya—the ‘wiuligar’ elder—nods approvingly. The old elf, as a representative of the rare-but-respected ‘third gender’ of elven culture, serves as a sort of master of ceremonies for many community tasks you have learned… Including maintaining propriety among the youth. Their grey eyes hold an ineffable depth, as though they reflected the wisdom of the ages—ages which do not at all reflect upon their typically unaging elven features.

To your mother’s right sat Nakiasha, a young elf maiden with silken, silver-blonde hair cascading down her back and an air of quiet concentration. Her sapphire blue eyes were always focused upon her work… Except when she thought you would not notice her looking. Whatever her age, her immaturity shone through—she was less subtle than she thought.

Next to Nakisha, fussing over the arrangement of wild berries in a strange sort of wild-milk pavlova, was Meorue. Her dark brown hair contrasted beautifully with her alabaster skin, and her elongated, pointed ears and wide, bright hazel hinted at her descent from one of your clan’s ‘head’ families—the closest the nomadic clan currently gathered here had to nobility. She, in particular, was not allowed to ‘fraternize’ with a half-elf beyond friendliness and formalities, but she had thus far been most aggressive in her attempts to do exactly that; probably why she was currently pouting from a seat within arm’s reach of Elder Venphyra.

Then there is Sylmare.

“So, the hero hasn’t gone on the hunt for the sacred deer with the other brave young elfmen?” she teased. “I’m shocked!”

With her a tangle of red-brown curls, sparkling green eyes, and an infectious free spirit, Sylmare is perhaps the most eye-catching of the trio. Her laughter echoes through the glade. Here and there, she has taken to interjecting with inappropriate jests or provocative queries, ever eager to throw the most serious conversation into delightful chaos.

“Nor have you gone ‘fishing’ with that father of yours and that wastrel, Laskar Endingray,” the Elder notes dryly.

“Must be better hunting here,” Sylmare suggests, true to form, with a subtle smile.

“They never catch anything, anyway,” Meorue notes with a sigh. “They won’t take my suggestions about a different water-hole, either.”

“I… Don’t think catching a fish is what it’s actually ABOUT, Meorue,” Nakiasha explains patiently, not taking her eyes from the arduous task to carefully plucky, peeling, and dicing ingredient—again, not until you look away.

“The problem with going with them is that Muffins is hungry NOW,” you admit. “I doubt I could get him to behave himself on a hunt.”

All the talk of food sets your own stomach to rumbling as you realize that Muffins is not the only hungry omnivore present.

“Right,” Sylmare laughs. “Muffins.”

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Rolled 17, 6 = 23 (2d20)

>>5878532
Of course, the cuisine before you offers little in the way of meatier fare—THAT is what the fishing (and especially the sacred hunt) is meant to make up for. Instead, the huge table set before you is host to an array of colourful vegetables, fruits, seeds and. There are ornated carved wooden and beautifully-sculpted and painted earthenware pots there, each being methodically filled with a specific fruit, seed, nut, or vegetable. One is full of leafy green mixtures which, when prepared with the finely-tuned manipulation of elemental energies of culinary magecarft, unlock hidden flavors and magical qualities in the humblest of ingredients—flavours that, in spite of their subtle wonder, will do little to feed two of the three heads of your increasingly impatient chimeric companion.

“I think I have just the thing,” your mother offers, to your great relief.

What she presents is a dish already half-processed: one of mountain yams that, when slowly roasted over a fairy-touched flame, turn a deep blue color. The longer they're left to cook, the more vibrant their hue becomes. When done properly, they taste sweet and buttery like caramel, but with a savoury undertone and aftertaste attesting to hidden wells of protein. Complemented with crumbled nuts and seeds, and mashed into a sort of butter-like substance, they form a particular pate.

“Delicious,” you admit after swallowing a mouthful. “What do you think, Muffins?”

[2d20 Natural Philosophy to help control and manage Muffins' natural instincts]

>>5878533
Muffins goat=face is already hidden inside a bowl of salad, rattling it about as he eagerly consumes it—and, to your chagrin, looks about ready to consume the bowl ITSELF. The serpent-head at the end of your companion’s tail needs eat but rarely, and has recently been satisfied with an egg—enough to feed that aspect for a week, at least. It is the lion who you need to impress… And it is the lion who is most suspicious of the tuber-and-nut mixture.

>17

Still, with your careful guidance and soft-spoken assurances, the panther-aspect of your trusty animal ally is persuaded to try the admixture. With obvious surprise that verges on disbelief, the lion seems to take to the taste, proceeding to gobble it upon and even to grapple the bowl between its big forepaws and to raspingly lick it clean before—rather impolitely—demanding seconds. The elfmaids giggle, and even your mother smiles.

“Will it actually be enough for him?” you wonder aloud.

“The magic and the ingredients go a long way towards making it ‘nutritionally complete’,” Mylaerlea Mious assures you.

“Whether it will calm the monster’s savagery is another matter,” Elder Venphrya murmurs, watching Muffins warily. “Where did you say you got him?”

“I, uh, bought him,” you admit.

The elves gasp, and the elder tuts.

“Barbaric,” he comments. “A creature of old magic and the far wilds, sold like… Like produce. Like an object. Such is the way of man.”

>>5878535
You frown a little at this, but from a people who rarely take any animal-meat at all, and only in a highly religious fashion from a charmed ‘wilderness’ almost devoid of the regular brutality of predator-and-prey relationships which define the wild places of the wider world… Maybe you shouldn’t be surprised. Hell, the elves don’t even have a native word for livestock, and their word for ‘pet’ and ‘friend’ are one and the same!

You realize that you really have been apart from the culture of your birth for some time. Long before your misadventrues with esoteric magic transformed you physically and spiritually, your time among the humans of Hawksong had begun to transform your mentally—hence your adoption of your father’s surname, you suppose. Here among full-blooded elves, born, bred, and raised in the Sylvan Realms, you feel a twinge of the old insecurity—that sense of placelessness, of a foreignness to all nations at once, and the petty need to prove yourself as good (or better) than the others.

How do you respond to this urge?
>Suppress it—it is not your place to speak on such things, nor are you comfortable doing so
>Speak in defence of Man—attest to the glories of Hawksong, and to the triumphs of your father’s race
>Join them in their recriminations—you aren’t like other Men, nor do you wish to be

Do you have any questions for these elfmaids, or the Elder?
>Yes [write-in any practical, cultural, or lore question you want their input on]
>No

Do you flirt with any of the elf-maids?
>Yes [specify which one(s)]
>No

>>5878536
>Suppress it—it is not your place to speak on such things, nor are you comfortable doing so

>Yes (Ask elder enphrya more about wiuligar)
I'm curious as to how they're treated and what it means to be from a third gender

>Yes (Nakiasha)
let's approach the woman who has been eyeing us a lot. it'll be good to take our mind of our problems a little.

>>5878536
>Engage them in some thought provoking conversation- neither in defense or recrimination, just challenge their perspective on the matter

>Yes [Current events, home life, and >>5878542’s question]

>Yes [All]
Embrace our inherited DILF energy- Mom’ll get an eye roll and a chuckle outta it. Besides, we could do with a little distraction.

>>5878673
[Could I please ask you to ekabodate on exactly what details you're hoping to discuss about current evengs and what 'home life' means in this context?]

>>5878536
> Keep a balanced stance on Hawksong, noting there are both nice and unpleasant things about it. Make (truthfully) clear that we take animal welfare serious and that we have hopes to make Hawksong an even more inclusive place by providing healing and protection from harm. We do this also to give Hawksong a few glimpses from the Fey perspectives (especially true due to the rituals that we started).
> supporting wiuligar question
>>Yes (All)
Priorities list: Sylmare (simple priority: she's eye catching and funny) then Meorue, then Nakiasha. We travel in order to gather a wide range of experiences - romantic ones not excluded!

>>5878697
>>5878490
Backlinking my simple minded vote (phone posting and IP hopping. Yeah!)

>>5878687
Current events in the Sylvan Realms, or relating to their perspective on on international events not relating to Hawksong. Home like being what they do on an average day-to-day sorta thing, maybe within some holidays or festivities.

Also curious about the magic gift/fountain that broke in the Mage District, and how come they couldn’t fix it? (It been a curiosity since the Infiltrator days).

>>5878536
>Join them in their recriminations—you aren’t like other Men, nor do you wish to be
Elves master race

>Yes [write-in any practical, cultural, or lore question you want their input on]
not sure if this is the time and place to ask about the cool lore, but
>current events, world news, fungal guardians

>Yes (all)
Sorry elder
we must

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>>5878721
>>5878700
>>5878697
>>5878711
>>5878673
>>5878542
[Alright, writing!]

>>5878536
>Suppress it—it is not your place to speak on such things, nor are you comfortable doing so
>No
>None

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>>5878740
Sorry anon, bit late. Even so... The vote seems clear.

>>5878739
You sigh and, against your better judgement, you speak up. No… Not AGAINST your better judgement, BECAUSE of it!

“It’s not that simple,” you answer the Elder’s accusations. “Human society is different than elven society, yes, but you have to remember that we… That they don’t have all the same advantages which the elves do. Humans don’t live in lands of such abundance and harmony as the Sylvan realms. They have to fight, to struggle and toil, hunt or farm, for every meal.”

The Elder seems to realize what they’ve said, and how someone of human paternity like yourself may have taken it, and to their credit their expression turns apologetic.

“I did not mean to insult you, Ezreal…”

“No, no, I get it,” you admit, holding up a hand. “Man certainly ahs… Room for improvement.”

You grimace a little reflecting on the blasé way in which your father’s race really DOES abuse the natural world and its beings. You are no vegetarian by any means, by necessity you have dined on farmed meat, but you well know how the pressures of such a dense population as Hawksong’s, and the human preference for animal products, has led to every more squalid and miserable living conditions for the chickens, cows, pigs, goats, and sheep which fill tables across the city… And that’s just the animals whoa are ALLWOED to live, that they NEED! To clear such wide spaces of farmland, countless acres of forest were swept away, cleared for building materials as well or else burnt with fire or left to rot.

And even THAT is before you get to the animal experiments of the Tower—experiments that, as a burgeoning chimercist and a student of Archmage Henzler, you are all TOO familiar with. You swallow your spit to prevent yourself from becoming ill at the memory of those works, as vile as any Dark magic to the likes of you. However, the longer you think about all that, the less you feel despair and disgust, and the more you feel HOPE.

“Things are changing” you tell the gathered elves, as you help them to prepare the festival-feast. “The humans do what they need to, yes, or what they feel they must… But it’s only because they don’t have other options.”

“There are ALWAYS other options,” the Elder notes, a gentle reproach.

“Yes, but an option which is risky—which might leave their family hungry, their civilization stagnant, that’s not a REAL option,” you argue. Back, without raising your voice. “But just in the tie I’ve been there, I’ve helped the Mages of the Tower to see that there are ways of studying and practicing Living Alchemy without doing harm to living beings. I’ve developed spells that enable entire new avenues… Maybe even new ways to produce meat without killing ANYTHING!”

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>>5878766
The Elder’s eyebrows raise, and the younger elfmaids seem enraptured as you go on, explaining your mastery and development of spells such as <Monstrous Regeneration> or <Clone>--the latter a spell of your own invention, which shocks even your mother to hear.

“A new being, created fully-formed from some aura and blood?” Mylaerlea Mious asks.

“It sounds a little scary,” Nakiasha admits.

“It sounds useful,” Meorue corrects, appraising you with glittering eyes. “Potentially.”

“So you can make another one of you?” Sylmare asks ‘inncoently’. “Sounds FUN.”

The Elder pinches Sylmare, who yelps, and you tug at the collar of your undershirt as your face reddens a little. You have to admit, all this awe and attention from the three elfmaids is actually… Rather nice.

“It’s no big deal,” you say, clearing your throat and attempting to convey a sense of cool confidence in your ability. “It’s still a work in progress… Just like Man. As a Disciple of the true Fey on Old Maple Hill—that’s this fairy court situated round an ancient maple tree outside the city, near the farms—I was able to offer some of the people there a whole new perspective on the world. It was a side-effect of curing them of this plague—I was sort of put in charge of that by the Archmage and the Queen of Hawksong—but I think it will really help them to understand the beauty of nature more deeply. And it’s already sort of working, materially-speaking, since the Queen set aside a big swathe of land to be reforested and dedicated to the spriggan who presides there!”

“Quite the ambition,” Meorue acknowledges, with an approving tilt of her head.

“So COOL,” Sylmare gushes.

“You really must care about them a lot,” Nakiasha notes softly, and smiles.

“Well, you know…” you laugh it off, adjusting your head. “I am… Sort of one of them. Half, anyway.”

Your mother frowns a little, and notes: “That doesn’t mean you owe them anything, you know… Or us, necessarily.”

You blink, startled by this, but before you can formulate a response the Elder interjects.

“It is admirable,” the Elder Venphrya admits, without any obvious acrimony at having effectively been chastised by an outsider and half-elf barely more than a tenth their age. “I respect what you are doing… And I suppose I have been too quick to judge. That our peoples are different doesn’t necessarily make their culture EVIL, of course. They, too, serve the Gods of Light.”

“Yes,” you agree, "and there are plenty who DON'T who we ought to be more worried about.”

A chill wind seems to pass through the clearing, setting the three young elf-maid to shivering. Your mother casts a wary glance towards the woods—specifically, the area from which the Unseelie have lately emerged. It is not only them, though: there are so many forces of darkness to be wary of these days, it seems, from all corners of the globe.

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>>5878768
“I know that the central Council of Elders in Iternagreyn has cut off ties with Hawksong and its allies,” you acknowledge the reality thus far unspoken, “but what of other human nations outside of their domains?”

“The Southmen treat far too readily with demons to fully trust,” Elder Venphrya says.

“Not ‘treat’, exactly,” your mother delicately inetrrupts. “They bind and control them… or try to.”

“a dangerous game, and one that the devils of the Seven Hells all too often win,” the Elder notes dourly.

“What of the Easterlings, then?” you ask, recalling how fond Izirina had always been of those exotic cultures growing up, and tales of the fairy spirits said to openly live among them. “Surely they’re potential allies against… That is, in our shared endeavours to make a better world?”

“Some of them CAN be,” the Elder acknowledges carefully, “but the Men of the East are still MEN, Ezreal… Still, as you say, ‘works-in-progress’. And the spirits they deal with… Some are fey, some are demonic, and their philosophy pays precious little heed to which is which. Their fairy courts are… Fallen.”

“Unseelie?” you ask, concerned at the prospect of an entire area of the continent full of such terrors as you have lately tangled with.

“Not… precisely. Or maybe, yes, that is as good a word as any.” The Elder hesitates, struggling to put the problem to words. “Theya re not evil, not violent. Not all of them. We treat with them, and they are kin to us, but they are… Not like our Princess of the New Moon, nor like the True Fey whom you learned from as a young boy. All disciples of the Bonum Chaoticum value freedom, of course, but they… They pay heed to no authority if they can help it, and they mingle and meddle where they ought not to.”

“What about other allies?” you ask. “Dwarves, halflings, gnomes… Beastmen, that sort of thing?”

“It’s the Beastmen of the East who I was referring to ,” the Elder notes. “As for the Little Men… They live like the Men you are familiar with. And that’s really all that dwarves and their kin are: men of the deep and high places, of the islands and isolated spaces. But still Men.”

“That’s not how the dwarves see it,” you note, “or the humans. And anyway… They live much longer, don’t they? And isn’t the Mountain King of the dwarves a member of the Bonum Chaoticum.”

“He is NOT,” the Elder states emphatically.

“But…” you pause. “He isn’t a member of the Bonum Legale. I know that much.”

“It’s… Complicated,” your mother amends, drawing the brief ire of Venphyra. “A story for another time.”

>>5878783
>Their fairy courts are… Fallen.
The bonum chaoticum has fallen, millions must ascend.

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>>5878783
>>5878788
Taking the cue to move on, you ask after another matter which has been on your mind—another notable distinction between your father’s people and your mother’s, and one which—you hope—Venphrya is in a unique position to answer.

“Speaking of complicated,” you note, “I, ah… Was wondering. About the wiuligar?”

The Elder seems to take no offence to this line of inquiry, which is good, but a matter of some interest in and of itself. As a young boy, you had encountered these elves of course, but you’d never really had cause to ask after them—had actually never given the ‘third gender’ much thought, any more than you had the first or second. It was just a fact of life, and only when you’d left to live among the human race in Hawksong that you’d realized that such a concept was far from universal. Among the men of the Northwest, even the non-standard sexual preferences were rarely spoken of, while the concept of any sex or gender outside the strictly male and female barely even registered as a COCNEPT outside of jokes about the relative femininity of male elves (ugh) or apparent masculinity of female half-orcs and the like.

“Of course that would be so,” the Elder patient explains when you have finishes telling them of this. “It is the way of their gods, the Gods of Law, to make it so. Even among their race, though, something like the wiuligar exist… But rarely. Rarer than among our race.”

“I know,” you acknowledge, thinking of Logan Pearce—your best friend since you were young. “I have a, ah, companion who is a man, but fond of…”

(Of you, personally, the poor fellow…)

“Other males,” you finish lamely.

“That is not what a wiuligar is,” the Elder quickly corrects you. “Nor are we, ah… What is the human term? ‘Transvestite?’ We are not elfman, not elfmaids. We are both, and neither. We are born this way, by the grace of the Gods of Freedom, and as a male and female have their roles and duties, we have ours. We are caretakers, lore-keepers, supervisors, teachers, intermediaries. It is found throughout nature—in full bloom, in its beauty and diversity, across plants and animals of all sorts. The Bonum Legale… It is they who curtail it among the Race of Man, who ‘correct’ it to maintain their curated order.”

The wiuligar pauses for a moment in their increasingly-impassioned explanation, and adds: “Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Whatever works for them is, of course, up to their gods and their people. It obviously doesn’t impede their ability to spread and expand their empires…”
From there, the conversation turns towards lighter matters, at least in part because your mother gracefully guides it there and the Elder seems eager to move onto explanations of various ceremonies and festivals, and the foodstuffs, flower-crowns, and dances and songs which accompany each.

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>>5878799
“Do you think you’ll stay for some of them?” Nakiasha asks, twirling her blonde hair with one finger and (with blatant eagerness, poorly-hidden) awaiting your answer.

“Oh,” you say with some thought, “I don’t know… Maybe. Though I’d need someone to show me how the dances are done.”

“I could do that,” Meorue interrupts, squeezing in between the two of you. “Mother and Father have taught me ALL the dances. I often lead the processions, and I ever performed the MAIN role at the Dance of Summer’s Bloom last year!”

“We all remember,” Sylvare laughs, poking Meorue in the side and making her flinch, and then turns her eyes to you. “Seems to me you were dancing just fine at the party after you scared off those Unseelie Fey. Maybe YOU could teach me—us, US—some of YOUR moves?”

“That could be nice,” Nakiasha admits, completely missing Sylvare’s salacious implication. “I’m… Not the BEST dancer, if I’m being honest.”

“And you always are,” Sylvare teases her (or perhaps warns you). “You can’t keep a, ah, SECRET for the life of you.”

“Oh please,” Meorue huffs with a roll of her eyes, crossing her arms beneath her chest.

Nakiasha laughs self-effacingly, though she’s obviously still a little confused by what exactly is being implied. You, having roomed next to a randy goblin-girl for a little over a year, are not quite so naïve… And you’re grateful that your mother has engaged the chaperoning Elder in distracting conversation.

As much as a part of your heart still lies in Hawksong, with Izzy, things with her have become so… Heavy. So complicated. And Costella… Well, you can still remember her lips on yours, her voluptuous body’s press, but beginning a relationship with a woman who you are spiritually bound to—and who is bound to Izzy!—makes the whole thing just so… So WEIRD! How much of what you feel for either of those women is actually your own heart, your own soul, and how much of it is a side-effect of the hastily-performed rite which transformed you?

>>5878801
“Maybe we could all teach each other something,” you reply, with a smooth smile and easy tone borrowed from Ruldofo Van Houtzmann. “I mean, I came here to experience the local culture, after all. And it seems there’s quite a bit to experience!”

That sets all the elfmaids to giggling, and as the conversation progresses they cluster in, each jockeying for your attention. Even then, it’s a lot easier-going, less complicated than what you’ve become accustomed to in your love-life, without any ominous undertones or dark secrets. And it’s NICE, being admired, and wanted, and desired… Being treated like some conquering hero! It’s FUN. You’d almost forgotten that flirting could just be fun!

The only question is whether you should take this any further than mere flirtation…
>Court one or more of the elfmaids seriously [Who?]
>Attempt to bed one or more of the elf-maids, as a casual fling [Who?]
>Try to engineer some sort of ‘group activity’ with all of them [High DC, failure will ruin your chances with all of them]
>Keep it light and flirty, but go no further

[Trying to pursue multiple girls will also potentially make you look like a cad, and pursuing ANY of them could introduce complications down the line depending how you approach it, so be aware of that.]
Also, I don’t usually do pastebins or anything so don’t get your hopes up for THAT.
[Backlink your 1post IDs for this one, because we all know how such votes stir shit up at times.]

>>5878803
>Keep it light and flirty, but go no further
Let's live new experiences but it's not a good time to get serious yet.
>no pastebins
quest has fallen...

>>5878801
>Attempt to bed one or more of the elf-maids, as a casual fling [Who?]
Sylvare

Happy new year's seeker anons.

[Happy New Year, anons! I'll be heading out to celebrate it soon, but I hope you all have a great night, and I'll see you in 2024.]

>>5878803
>Attempt to bed one or more of the elf-maids, as a casual fling [Who?]
Sylvare is pretty cool

Am>>5878162

>>5878803
>Try to engineer some sort of ‘group activity’ with all of them [High DC, failure will ruin your chances with all of them]
I’d say go for broke (like our father), but feel free to use my vote to support>>5878824 and >>5879154 on the majority pick (even if I’d prefer ‘Princess’ Meorue personally.

>>5878803
>Keep it light and flirty, but go no further
>>5878740

>>5878803
>Keep it light and flirty, but go no further

Our personal relationships are already messy no need to add to it.

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>>5879172
>>5879164
>>5879154
>>5878824
>>5878809
>>5879415

As midday turn to late afternoon, your remaining misgivings about entering into any sort of relationship here are gradually worn down. While all the girls are nice, and fetching in their way, the majority of the credit really goes to Sylvare. Her persistence and proclivity for humour and innuendo make it hard to ignore her. Your initial inclination to keep things light and flirty with all three of the young elfmaids quickly becomes a singular focus upon the bouncy curls and sparkling eyes of Sylvare especially. By the time evening approaches, you and she are engaged in light banter and fluffy conversation—far from deep or personal, but undeniably fun. There are, as they say, sparks.

“This has been really fun,” you admit quietly, when the other elfmaids and the elder are out of earshot.

“I didn’t know our hero such a big fan of tossing salad,” she says.

You nearly choke, causing her to arch an eyebrow and hold up her bowl of greenery for a moment, before setting it down upon the table. You set your own down a moment later, and follow after her.

“Sorry,” you say. “just… That has a, uh, COLLOQUIAL meaning among the humans that you might not have known.”

“Oh,” Sylvare says without turning around or missing a beat, “I know.”

You stop for a moment, face heating up as you watch her go. Something in the sway of her hips, and the way she tosses her hair, fixes your attention. It isn’t love, and it has no depth, but still the fascination grips you. Thereafter, you pursue her—literally and figuratively, following after her as she sets about gathering water, attending to food-bushes and holy trees of the grove to pluck away parasites and irritants, and other necessary chores of elven horticulture. All the while, the two of you find excuses to bump into one anther, or to touch fingers. Every instance produces a stolen glance, a lingering moment; each time, it is a little longer, a bit more obviously charged.

“So, are we going to be doing chores all day?” you ask after a time.

“Of course,” Sylvare says brightly, but with a subtle purr to her voice. “What else would we be doing?

“It’s just that, well, I’m going to be defending the moon-stone again tonight, and night’s almost HERE, and given all that I thought that first we might…?”

“Might…?” she repeats, mimicking your inflection, and you feel your blush spreading to the pointed tips of your ears again, provoking a laugh from Sylvare.

“A champion of the people who is so easily flustered by girls?” she asks.

“I feel as if I’ve been holding my own, actually,” you retort.

“It seems to me,” she muses, “you’d rather be holding MINE.”

You open your mouth to say something but, well, what do you say to a thing like that.

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>>5879420
“Come on,” Sylvare beckons, taking your hand. “Come with me. We have one more chore to do.”

You hold back a groan. More work? You were beginning to think she had something else in mind.

(In truth, she did, as you soon learn…)

Sylvare soon lead you to a smaller clearing off to the side of the main one. The nature of the space eventually apparent as you approach, denoted by the sound of humming—nay, soft buzzing. At first you fear it is the Unseelie Fey in their ‘swarm-form’ which they had demonstrated in their last attack upon Dappulyet’s holy site. You pull your wand from the special pouch inside your robe which sheathes it, and step forward to protect your nubile companion. She just laughs, and takes your arm in hers as she guides you to the actual source of the sound: several hollowed-out, specially-carved logs, full of small holes and faintly slick and shiny where the contents within overflow and dribble down.

“Beehives,” your ealzie, watching the diligent works fly in and out.

“They say that bees came after wasps, and termites, and other biting and swarming insects,” Sylvare says, with the voice of one repeating an oft-heard parable or children’s story. “They say they were, like… Evil, not properly natural, but an enemy of life and nature but the gods taught them the love for hard work and duty, and they became bees after that, and became much happier… Though at first, they had to bribe them with the knowledge of honey, so they’d have something to work towards and a reward when they were done.”

You reflect on the instructive little tale and its likely moral. It’s probably just a fable for young elves, to explain why it is important to do the very sorts of chores you and Sylvare have been doing, but after all you’ve learned about the Gods of Light—their real origins, their purposes here on Earth, their interest in uplifting the world and its spirits to create an age of peace and harmony—you begin to wonder if there might be some hidden truth to it beyond the allegorical.

“Eventually the bees realized hard work and creating was much better than destruction and war, and they started working for the sheer love of it,” Sylvare continues the tall tale. “As thanks, they’ve produced a bit of extra honey first, for we descendants of the True Fey to enjoy. It was the bees’ reward, and now it’s ours, too, for helping them.”

Sylvare approaches the hives, unafraid. The bees do not seem alarmed or defensive at all and, after a moment, you follow her.

“Go on,” she says, “have some honey.”

You reach down, scooping some of the overflow tentatively onto your fingers and, with Sylvare’s encouragement, lick it off your fingers. She watches you all the while, so that it feels faintly indecent.

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Rolled 5, 11, 2 = 18 (3d20)

>>5879421
“It’s good,” you readily acknowledge , and it is—delicious, far richer and more flavourful than the literally-pale imitation of this rich, golden ambrosia which you have purchased in Hawksong’s markets some summers, or even the bottle Pearce brought from his family’s neighbours’ mead operation one time.

“I haven’t tried this year’s yet,” Sylvare admits. ”May I?”

You see no reasons he should be asking YOUR permission, that of a mere guest, but you grant it anyway. You quickly understand her actual intention when, rather than scooping her own, she takes your hand in hers and brings your honey-covered fingers to her lips and tongue, and begins to suckle and lick it off of them.

“O-oh,” you gasp. “Wow. Uh, so… I guess the chores are done?”

Sylvare’s eyes sparkle a little, and she nods.

“Time for your reward,” she says.

“And yours,” you hazard a rejoinder.

“Of course,” she agrees, with a wink. “We both deserve one after all that hard work, don’t we?”

Your lips find hers. They taste of honey, and of tingling mint and herbs. Her slim, lithely-athletic body presses to yours, and pins you to a nearby tree—something you enthusiastically assent to.

“Do you bring all the handsome young visitors here?” you joke.

“Just the brave and smart and handsome ones,” she replies lightly. “I’m not so undiscerning, hero~”

She gasps as you dare a squeeze of her ripe body, and then trails off into a soft hum that almost matches the background buzz of busy bees.

“You know,” she muses. “there IS something I’ve always wanted to try, actually, speaking of this place.”

“Oh yeah?” you ask, trying to keep your cool.

SYlvare’s lips brush up against your ear, as her fingers trail down your body, spreading open your robes and lifting your shirt, and then gazing nails down your chest’s bare skin.

“You know that thing we the honey on your fingers, and my mouth?” she whispers. “What if we did that again, but with me licking and sucking the honey off of your…”

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>>5879423
>2 for Courage

Sylvare falls through you, thumping her forehead upon the tree behind you with a thunk and falling to the ground. For a moment you are utterly bewildered, and then panicked as you realize what’s happened—in your excitement, you lost the focus needed to maintain your material form, becoming entirely aethereal.

“Oh, oh shit!” you exclaim. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, uh, lose corporeality! It just happens sometimes when I—”

Sylvare holds up a hand to stop you, waving her fingers to indicate it’s okay. She rubs her forehead with her other hand. When you’ve managed to calm down enough to achieve a physical, material presence again, you help her up.

“Well,” she says thoughtfully, “you feel solid right now. Do you think you can… Maintain that for a few minutes?”

Your heart is going a mile a minute as you contemplate the question. You really, REALLY want the answer to be yes, bt….

“I don’t know.”

Sylvare frowns, tilting her head.

“I haven’t… Since I’ve been like that, I’ve never really, uh, I haven’t tried…”

She brings a finger to your face, hesitating a moment before touching your lips. Her finger doesn’t pass through, and so she smirks a little.

“What if we just… Take it slow?”

You give it a go. You know, for the expansion of human and elven knowledge, and the betterment for international relations. For purely selfless and altruistic reasons. Obviously.

>5, 11

It's a fine time, very fun, even if... Well, frustrating, in the end. You are forced to take things into your own hands, ahem, as things come to a close--full sexual arousal simply seems to be too great an impediment to your focus, causing limbs and faces and, AHEM, such to pass through one another. Sylvare is kind about it, frankly sort of amused by it, but you have a more... Ambivalent emotional reaction to events. It hardly helps take your mind off of your condition, and your history, and those other two young women to whom these matters are tied. You’re rather distracted by a swirling milieu, sticky and heavy like mixing honey in your mind.

>>5879441
“I believe Master Van Houtzmann has arrived.”

You look up at the sound of Priestess Clanirae’s voice, waving.

“We were looking for you,” your mother notes. “Laskar found your chimera just beyond the clearing, though, and said by Muffins’ attitude you couldn’t have gone far or been in danger.”

You blush a little, and look to Laskar Endingray. His expression is neutral, but her tilts his head in acknowledgement.

“And that redheaded girl was obviously safe too, then, ey wot?” suggests your father with a knowing wink and nudge, when your mother and the priestess are distracted with preparations.

Your blush deepens, and you clear your throat.

“Let’s get to work, shall we?” you suggest. “Just this night and one more before the New Moon. We’re almost in the clear! We know it, but so do the Unseelie. We should be ready for them to make a last go of it.”

That night, however, no all-out-attack comes, or even a probing scouting foray or anything like that. It is, in fact, strangely peaceful, even BORING. It gives you time to think—time that, honestly, you’d rather you didn’t have just now. You look at your hand—solid, material, but translucent and faintly fuzzy around the edges whenever you remove your focus for any length of time, to all but your mage-sight. You clench it into a fist, and force yourself to focus on the task at hand—even if it is the dullest vigil so far.

Eventually the night ends, and dawn’s light comes. You, your friends and family, and the priestess disperse, seeking out your rest—though in truth, you have all been yawning at hours, with nothing to keep your fighting spirit alight.

Only when you are alone—well, you and Muffins—do the Unseelie make their move.

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>>5879443
“Psst!” comes a whisper. “Hey, you! Child-of-elf-and-man!”

You look up, since that obviously means you, but the voice which whispers the words is unfamiliar. You look up and around, al over, but only after almost a full minute do you spot the source: a pair of solid, shining black eyes amidst the foliage, hidden from the sunlight by the thin cover of a bush. It is shrunken, diminished by the light perhaps, but you still recognize the furry, grey shape with its fuzzy, rabbit ear-like antennae hanging down the sides of its otherwise-naked grey face like muttonchops, yet long enough to be a scarf.

“Unseelie,” you hiss, and reach for your want.

“Hey, hey!” the Unseelie hurries to appease you. “none of that! That’s not needed, not at all. I’m here to parley, eladrin, cousin-to-cousin.”

What do you do?
>Attempt to capture the Unseelie before it can get away [specify if you have a strategy]
>Threaten it—you’ll not negotiate, except to give this Unseelie and his friends the opportunity to surrender before any more of them get hurt
>Listen to what he has to say, and negotiate—though it remains to be seen what he wants, or what he can offer, or if this is some trap
>Infuse Muffins with an element and sic him upon the Unseelie, to rend and kill the abominable dark fairy
>Write-in

>>5879423
damn, our courage failed us but at least we salvaged it.
>>5879445
>Listen to what he has to say, and negotiate—though it remains to be seen what he wants, or what he can offer, or if this is some trap
You have my curiosity

btw QM are you in the qtg server ?

>>5879478
[I am, but I only check in or comment rarely.]

>>5879498
just asked 'coz you could also warn updates there.

>>5879525
[I follow the sentiment of trying to keep most discussion and community in the thread itself. These threads ARE Reptilian Infiltrator, Dragonborn Antipaladin, and Seekers of the Esoteric. it doesn't exist outside of or independent from them, and I prefer not to necessarily have to maintain related obligations on multiple platforms (ie. reminders, updates, q&As, etcetera). Just a personal preference of mine.]

>>5879565
understandable

>>5879445
>Listen to what he has to say, and negotiate—though it remains to be seen what he wants, or what he can offer, or if this is some trap

>>5879445
>Listen to what he has to say, and negotiate—though it remains to be seen what he wants, or what he can offer, or if this is some trap

>>5879565
much appreciated

>>5879445
>Infuse Muffins with an element and sic him upon the Unseelie, to rend and kill the abominable dark fairy

Unable to win with violence. They unseelie plan to get the stone with trickery. This offer of parley must be a trap otherwise why not offer it previous before the imminent coming of the moon princess.

This is me.
>>5879415
>>5877936

>>5879445
>Listen to what he has to say, and negotiate—though it remains to be seen what he wants, or what he can offer, or if this is some trap

We don’t need a fight when we’re half-awake.

>>5879445
*reach for your wand
[Dang it, starting the new year off with one my signature typos.]

>>5879466
>>5879614
>>5879719
>>5879793
>>5879798
[Anyway, locked!]

>>5879808
You scoff.

“What, you couldn’t beat us in a battle, so now you’re doing to trick me?”

Muffins growls, and you reach out to place a hand upon him, ready to cast <Elemental Infusion> and to put an end to this.

“No, no tricks, no tricks!” the Unseelie protests, scooting back into he pushes to escape the six eyes of your agitated animal companion.

“Oh, so you Unseelie have just COINCIDENTALLY seen the error of your ways right before Princes Mianni is scheduled to arrive here and to put an end to you attempts at theft?” you ask. “Come on, how stupid do you think I AM? I know you just want the moon-stone!”

“Yes!”

You blink.

“Wait, what?” you ask.

“Yes, of COURSE we want the stone!” the Unseelie agrees.

“Well, I’m… Not going to give it to you?” you say, uncertainty in your voice.

“Not give, no,” the Unseelie acknowledges. “But I come bearing an offer… An offer from our boss!”

What IS this? Do they really think you’re just going to… Switch sides or something? What could they possibly have to offer you that would make that even a POSSIBILITY? Despite how dubious the whole possibility of ‘parley’ seems, you can’t help it—this fairy ahs your curiosity.

“Alright,” you say, “speak up. What is this offer?”

“we don’t want any more pain or death between cousins,” the Unseelie Fey in the hedge claims. “We want to settle this nicely-like, amicably, as we are family.”

“You have a funny way of showing it,” you note sourly.

“We haven’t killed anyone!” the Unseelie protests. “Not like you lot.”

That gives you pause for a moment, and with horror you begin to wonder if this is true—if YOU are the one escalating the situation and initiating greater violence. But then, you think for a second longer, and frown.

“You Unseelie TRIED to kill my mother, and the priestess,” you note, “and even if that didn’t count because of your FAILURE to do it, I KNOW you accost, kill, rob, and torment or enslave people who get lost in the woods.”

“We take prisoners of trespassers, and sometimes we indenture them for a time as a penalty for stepping into our land, yes,” the Unseelie attempts to reason. “But not cousins!”

“But you KILL elves sometimes,” you point out. “Right?”

There is a long pause.

“I knew it! Muffins, rip him apart. <Elemental—”

“Wait, no, stop! Halt! Desist! PLEASE, Mercy!"

>>5879809
You exhale through your nose, sick of this already.

“What we’re offering is one fair fight—and we don’t need to, you know, not with what WE’VE got in our pocket for tonight. One champion from your side, one from ours. An honourable duel, and to the winner the spoils.”

“The moon-stone, you mean,” you say. “We already have it. What do we have to gain?”

“We’ll leave it be, honestly, truthfully, forever,” the Unseelie promises “if we lose, we’ll give it up. If we win, we get it and you let us keep it.”

“Or we just defeat you again, the barrier is refreshed and rehcrages,a nd you won’t be able to do anything abut it.”

“Maybe not for a month,” the Unseelie admits, with a dark undercurrent in his voice, “but what about the next? Or the one after that? Someday, the stone will get overused again, and we’ll be waiting. We don’t age, not like you flesh-and-blood cousins do. We can AFFORD to wait. Can you?”

Well… You can’t exactly say you planned to stay here in Dappulyet forever, no. You have no desire to become an acolyte of Princess Mainnie, or a devotee of her temple, remaining its protector forevermore. Then again, can you trust an Unseelie to keep its word?

But then, maybe defeating their champion WILL finally put such fear of god and elf into these dark fairies that they leave the pace be? And at the very least, if they’re being honest, it COULD be a good way to stave off a more lethal form of violence for at least one more night… And that’s really all you NEED, right now.

>Take the deal
>Try to get the Unseelie to sweeten the pot with something more, should you win [with what?]
>Ask the Unseelie something [what?]
>Refuse the deal
>Attack while the Unseelie’s guard is down
>Write-in

>>5879812
>Write-in
>ask to consult with the others first

"I appreciate the offer — and I would like to agree to it, but currently I cannot: I need to consult with my family first. As you said - I would also like to see it settled amicably. I don’t want any hard feelings on either ends."

None of us is in the shape for a judicial duel but it’s probably better than another assault. Let’s get a second opinion before we do anything.

>>5879812
>Ask the Unseelie something (where would this duel take place ?)
man, depending on what he answers and if we can make sure they don't brake promises between cousins, I'm tempted to agree. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CcPgeAiK70Y
>>5879831
good idea depending on what he answers

>>5879812
>Refuse the deal
After we get the stone recharged, the rest isn't our problem. It's not on us to find a permanent solution. The Unseelie are targeting our conceit and arrogance of thinking we're the one who can set everything right. What we should remember though is they propose the duel because they're sure they will win.
>>5878740
(I had to pass a second captcha to see the main captcha, wtf)

>>5879812
>Write-in:Threaten the unseelie, and tell him to tell his leadership. If they continues the attacks and refuse to seek peace. We will return, find their demi plane and remove the corrupt fey from these lands permanently.

>>5880298
>>5879793
This is me

>>5879812
>Refuse the deal
Let's see what they've got in their pocket for tonight

>>5880253
>>5880322
Anons ?

>>5880353
their>>5880322
>>5880253
having a high lvl conversion thats beyond our current understanding, ignore them.

>>5879831
Support

>>5880600
>>5880321
>>5880301
>>5880298
>>5880246
>>5879856
>>5879831
[We seem to have a tie between some form of 'no deal', maybe with a threat, and tentative interest pending a group consultation. I'll leave this open a bit longer in deference to this, and call it before bed.]

>>5880719
>>5880719
"I appreciate the offer,” you begin, an edge to your voice. “if it’s genuine.”

“It is!” the Unseelie insists.

“It had better be,” you caution. “If I were to accept it, and you were to BETRAY my trust… I suppose I’d have to go out, find your demiplane, and destroy it and every fairy in it, ‘cousin’.”

Silence follows your threat—not entirely empty, though perhaps you overstate your capacity for violence SOMEWHAT. Still, it’s not as if you don’t know enough people who could and WOULD make good on such an oath, and it’s important to project strength at a time like this.

“Anyway,” you continue with forced casualness, “I can’t just commit to this on my own, can I? I need to consult with my family first. Make sure everyone’s in agreement. I would also like to see it settled amicably. I don’t want any hard feelings on either ends. If we do this, I must SETTLE things, right?”

“Y-yes,” the Unseelie agrees, sounding altogether less certain of himself than he did a moment ago. “but time is of the essence…”

“When and where would this take place?” you ask, ignoring his attempts to set the timetable of your response.

“This next night, at the usual place,” the Unseelie says, a bit more confident again now that it seems he might truly have your interest. “We battle where the Old Queen’s daughter can see us… And the Old Queen herself! Let her see us take back what’s ours, what she’s kept from us!”

“Hm,” you murmur noncommittally, and the Unseelie’s wicked grin falls at the edges as you deny him an adequate response to his bold and inflammatory declaration.

“We will be watching as dusk falls,” he tells you. “If you accept, hold up a black-and-white banner at dusk. If you refuse… if we do not see the banner…”

The Unseelie Fey trails off as you (rather hopefully) wait for him to elaborate on this alleged secret weapon they’re holding in reserve. However, the dark fairy gives up nothing of the sort, instead simple fading into the shrubbery. Muffins lunges after him, pouncing upon where the Unseelie messenger once was. Even as he fully flattens and savages the bush, he finds it empty of enemies.

As you watch Muffins rifle through the patch of woodland, you contemplate the offer, and the threat underlying it. What is this secret weapon? Either it’s a bluff—certainly possible—or they take its secrecy until the moment of deployment rather seriously, which might imply something about its nature. And what sort of champion might the Unseelie employ from this proposed one-on-one bout? Who could you fairly expect to fight such a fairy champion? There are many unknowns, and so you do as you told the malevolent fey you would: you talk to your friends and family.

>>5880861
“Stupendous!” your father declares. “What a row that would be, wot? People would talk about it for ages—a legendary duel of fate, putting the damned Unseelie in their place!”

“Unless we lose,” your mother sighs. “Rudolfo, they wouldn’t propose this if they weren’t confident they’d win.”

Ruldolfo Van Houtzmann tilts his head back and taps his forehead, with a knowing wink.

“Their overconfidence will be their undoing, then, as they say! Ey?”

Your mother sighs, and you resist the urge to join her.

“It’s true that they must have at least as much confidence in this champion as in their secret weapon,” Laskar Endingray. “After all, if whatever they have in their ‘back pocket’ could defeat us so easily, without some kind of issue or risk to THEM, why wouldn’t they just do it? Why make the offer at all?”

“Maybe they have a sense of showmanship?” your father suggests. “they ARE fairies!”

“Maybe,” Endingray allows, with a small smile. "It would make for a good story, or song..."

“What do you think, Priestess?” you ask.

Clanirae yawns expansively, stretching her arms and rubbing her eyes—clearly eager to retire to her chamber.

“I cannot rightly say,” she admits. “Unseelie Fey aren’t demons, of course. You can’t bind them to a pact, but they’re also not… QUITE so intrinsically hateful. They might not care much about our lives, but without any ability to reproduce and refresh their own numbers… They may well wish to avoid further losses.”

“Would they keep their word?” your mother asks.

“Maybe,” Clanirae admits. “Maybe not. If they broke it, they’d have to be very confident that they were going to win what battle comes next, or they’d never again be able to offer their word in all the world, without elves and True Fey alike knowing they couldn’t be trusted. They’d be resigning themselves to a war in which they could never even offer surrender.”

“They won’t want to risk Ezreal making good on his threats, I’d wager,” Endingray agrees.

Which implies they’re VERY confident in their champion, to genuinely throw all their hopes behind them…

“So?” your father asks brightly. “Are we going to do it? Mimi, come on… Remember that time, with the orc chap, when we beat him and the bandits he was leading all surrendered to us and joined our merry band?”

“It’s too risky,” your mother reiterates. “We should assume the duel is a distraction, to soften us up. Remember when the bandits’ reinforcements showed up, and our ‘merry band’ turned on us?”

“Bah!” your father scoffs. “That wasn’t their PLAN, it just happened that way! If they hadn’t gotten lucky, they’d have been working off their debt to society—and us—for years! The Van Houtzmann Vagabonds, twenty-five strong! It would have been something…”

>>5880869
You look to Endingray, who merely shrugs, and then to Clanirae, who simply smiles.

“I,” she declares, standing up, ‘will take my leave and get some rest. I trust in your judgement.”

She says the last bit to everyone, but her eyes linger on you. You feel a new pressure now, in addition to the rest of this. You get the uncanny feeling that this is some sort of test, now. By the way the others regard you (with surprise and muted alarm in your mother's case), you know they all understand this as well. You know the others' opinions, and that Clanirae at least believes the offer may be genuine, whatever THAT implies... But the decision lies, improbably and exclusively, upon you.

"No pressure," you mutter, as you lie down and close your eyes.

You rest, as the rest of the defenders do also, sleeping through morning until you awaken in the afternoon. You mill about with the elfmaids and elfmen, attempting to take your mind off of things. You sometimes find your tendency to obsess and fixate upon a problem can blind you to the full picture, and you want to properly consider al your options.

You spy Sylvare and group of fellow elfmaids, still preparing for the festival. You wave. She sees you and smiles, but then she and the other elfmaids whisper to one another and kick off a fit of giggles you can hear half-way across the glade. You don’t know what was said, but they all wave to you before they scurry off. You can’t help but wonder what exactly is being said and spread around about you…

Dusk approaches all too quickly. You need to make a decision.

>Raise the black-and-white banner, and choose a champion
[+ honour, + pride]

>Do not raise a banner—you’ll face whatever the Unseelie set upon you
[+ determination, + distrust]

>Raise the banner under false pretenses—set a trap!
[- honour, + cunning]

>Write-in

[Whatever you choose will affect Tips characterization, and your reputation in the Sylvan Realms and maybe beyond... As will whether you succeed or fail.]

>>5880872
could we send muffins as our champion ?

>>5880890
[Yes, yes you could. If anons vote to raise the banner, the next vote will be for your champion.]

>>5880894
alright, good to know.
Man, I'm kinda divided on this thing and assuming they keep their word if we go for a champion I think our best champion would be muffins and the second place would be our dad (elemental infusion on both, obviously). Muffins outclass anyone on our side in speed and strength while our dad has his battle wisdom to do and look out for shenanigans. As of now waiting to do it normally seems the best even with their surprise thingamabob because of the shield. Gonna wait for other anons to give their ideas before voting.

>>5880872
>Raise the black-and-white banner, and choose a champion

I'll support the course of action of buffing Muffin or dad up to Outer Heavens and set them loose.
Hell, why not Dad mounting Muffin?

>>5880922
>Hell, why not Dad mounting Muffin
well, they said one champion and dunno if they'll accept a mounting

>>5880872
>Raise the black-and-white banner, and choose a champion

I think their word is genuine. I suppose they could decimate us with a secret weapon, but I doubt it is so effective that we are wiped out without a chance to fight back, and in that case..

“They might not care much about our lives, but without any ability to reproduce and refresh their own numbers… They may well wish to avoid further losses.” -Clanirae

Judicial duels - for them - are most efficient in terms of cost - profit.

>>5879831

>>5880872
>Raise the black-and-white banner, and choose a champion
Alright, let's do it https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hWDJQfPGe2w

>>5880872
>Do not raise a banner—you’ll face whatever the Unseelie set upon you

>>5881017
My justification is: the Unseelie have already seen all we can offer in combat. They can choose a perfect countermatch, especially if we're so stupid as to choose our champion first. With our full party, we have more flexibility to adapt to enemy tactics.

>>5880872
>Raise the banner under false pretenses—set a trap!

Screw these unseelie, their champion and their secret weapon. We should be focused on crushing them, we have no reason to treat honorably with these murdering vagabonds. And a surprise attack could take out their champion and foil the usage of their weapon.

i also question the concept of buffing, in terms of direct combat enhancement know spell, we just have elemental infusion and monstrous regeneration.

Maybe we can get stoneskin or bull's strength with a high enough feycraft and chimeriecism roll. But these spells are temporary what if the champion has some means to avoid attacks and stalls until the buffs wear off?

>>5880872
>Raise the black-and-white banner, and choose a champion

Ok well Clanirae didn't forbid it, and unseelie seem uncool but not pure evil so let's go with the minimum casualties option.

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>>5881207
>>5881129
>>5881017
>>5880994
>>5880942
>>5880922
“Raise it,” you say, setting you jaw.

“Ezreal…” your mother begins.

Her tone is warning, but you do not flinch at it. Even she seems to realize after a moment that it holds little weight, and you think you see some hurt and sadness in her eyes. To her, fifteen years may have been a brief time apart, but in that span you grew from a boy into a man… Current, ah, intimate complications aside. You may have let your anger with her go, but you still cannot be chastened or lectured by a voice you haven’t heard for half a lifetime.

“Atta boy!” says your father, apparently oblivious to the undercurrent off familial tension.

He strums out a rapid tune on his lute, the tempo making for most excellent battle music. Laskar Endingray, meanwhile, fastens the banner—a pennant, white on top and black on bottom—onto a knurled pole, and hefts it high. With your aid and—after a moment—that of your mother, he plants it.

“They’ve seen what we’re capable of,” Endingray notes quietly. “They’ll have prepared an appropriate counter.”

“IF they have one,” you reply.

“There IS no counter for RUDOLFOOOO!” your father belts out merrily.

You cringe a little—not just at your seventy-some year old father capering and twirling about like a man less than half his age, making eyes at your mother and your people’s priestess while strumming a diddy to his own derring-do… But because you haven’t yet CHSOEN a champion. A part of you think your father’s battle experience genuinely WILL make him uniquely suited to the task, but another part of you still remembers how feeble he was a few short weeks ago… And how aged he still is, even after your enchantments. Your mother, bless her heart, had to apply a soothing herbal poultice to him after his first battle to protect the moon-stone, so that he could sleep in spite of sort and aching muscles.

But who else? Muffins? He’s savagely strong—probably a little larger than a real lion by now, though it’s tough for you to be sure since you’ve never actually SEEN a lion in the wild. He’s also, well, strongly inclined to savagery—no tactical fighter, he. You can direct him, but only so far… Unless you join him? Would they even allow that? Or… Maybe if you were to mount him, or have your father do so? A knight on horseback is still ONE champion, isn’t he? Just… Astride a noble steed.

>>5881581
You look at Muffins, pacing agitatedly, sensing the moon and smelling blood on the wind. Not the MOST noble steed you’ve ever seen, but you know he wouldn’t hurt you—or any rider you choose to seat upon him—and he could certainly support the weight.

Whether you, or your father, or your furry friend go into battle—or anyone else—you also risk their life. They’ll be out there, alone, against an unknown adversary. You won’t be able to help, or BE helped if you do this yourself—not without violating your word.

Unless… Well, you DO have a spell for that, don’t you? But… You’ve never cast THAT on a sapient, thinking being before. Maybe <Summon Elemental> would be safer… Though upcasting it to create something truly fierce would have its own risks associated with it…

The sky darkens yet further. The first twinkling stars appear, bright against the dark of a nearly-moonless sky. The thin sliver of silvery Luna casts its dim beams down upon the moonstone, and the scared relic reflects and refracts the light into a nighttime rainbow for a moment, before settling into a dull, greyish-white glow.

By that light, you see them moving, shifting.

“They’re here,” Clanirae warns, her voice level in spite of how it carries from the top of her towering altar, where he guards her sacred charge.

In the darkness, emerging from the woods. One, then another, and then another and another. You can’t tell for certain how many there are, but they certainly outnumber you and yours. Even though Priestess Clanirae does not raise the barrier, though, they stay at the edge of clearing… Save for two who stride forward: a male, whose grinning face your recognize from earlier this day, at dawn; a female, barely recognizable as such save for the way she carries herself and a subtle curvature when she puffs her chest proudly out and tilts back her chin.

“You have raised the banner,” the female Unseelie.

“Yes.”

“As I said he would!” the male proclaims, earning a swat upside his overexcited dome.

“Yes,” the female acknowledges. “So it’s to be a duel of honour, one against one?”

“Yes,” you agree, holding back the hesitance so it does not escape in your voice or expression.

“Who is your champion?” the Unseelie asks.

You present…
>Your father
>Yourself
>Laskar Endingray
>Your mother
>Clanirae
>Muffins [can be chosen with any of the other options if he serves as a mount]
>A <Clone> [of who?]
>An Elemental [what kind? How much MP do you spend on it]
>Write-in

>>5881583
>Yourself
>Muffins [can be chosen with any of the other options if he serves as a mount]

>>5881583
>Your father
>Muffins [can be chosen with any of the other options if he serves as a mount]

>>5881583
>Yourself

>Muffins [can be chosen with any of the other options if he serves as a mount]

We will be buffing muffins any way, so he won't lack for killing power. And im not sure how well rudolfo will be able to direct him in battle. Since he doesn't really seem to listen to other people.

>>5881587
+1

We ride.

>>5881659

am>>5880942

>>5881583
>us riding muffins
Uh we can still summon and shit right? Rules don’t forbid that?

>>5881583
>the Unseele are the challengers, it's only proper that they present their champion first

>>5881583
>Rudolfo
>Riding Muffins

We lack courage (especially if they use a thot-unseelie fighter, pretty sure we will get distracted).
Also, our best ressource is our MP. Want to use that to buff Rudolfo and Muffins, which can then express each their own strength (Bardic swordplay and monstrous statblock) while also using ours thanks to the broken lever effect of Mana.

Also, can we Shirin up the opponent to mess even further with them?

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>>5881938
>>5881888
>>5881812
>>5881661
>>5881659
>>5881648
>>5881618
>>5881587
“I am,” you declare.

This seems to take everyone by surprise… Except, perhaps, for Clanirae. You can sense her gaze upon her, somehow, but at such distance—and with your back to her-you cannot tell if she is shocked, or if she approves or disapproves. You’re almost afraid to turn around and find out.

“Ezreal!” your mother cries out.

“My boy…” your father whispers, stepping closer. “I’m not sure you’ve thought this through.”

You press on in spite of this. Without turning away from the Unseelie Fey, you commence to explain yourself, as much for your friends and family as for the foes:

“I will ride into my battle astride my MIGHTY STEED.”

You pat Muffins’ flank pointedly, and the chimera rumbles, all three heads looking towards you with the same confusion as the others.

“Not you, too,” you mutter. “Come on, Muffins.”

The two Unseelie representatives chatter rapidly between one another, but youc an only make out a few words:

“Isn’t that two?”

“Well, it’s one and a mount.”

“Is… We can’t allow that, though”

“Well, we didn’t SAY…”

“It’s the spirit of it!”

“Wait, did he say the beastie’s name is ‘Muffins’?!”

You clear your throat pointedly, and both pairs of shiny, black eyes turn to you, their expressions conflicted, but mostly worried. Then, the male of the pair begins to smirk, and finally to grin—a too-wide, sinister smile that worries you deeply.

“Alright, he says, “have it your way, cousin.”

“What?!” demands the female. “If they’re cheating, we should just—”

She shuts up abruptly, a knowing look crossing her features before they settle into a smug neutrality. The male nods. You begin to feel some trepidation at this.

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>>5882368
“Isn’t it… Isn’t it about time YOU, who ISSUED this damned challenge, introduce YOUR champion?” you bluster.

“Oh, you’re looking at her,” the female boasts, lifting her head and rolling her shoudlers as she assumes her (admittedly not very impressive) full height.

…Oh.

“And,” she continues, now mirroring her male counterpart’s grin, “there’s the matter of MY steed.”

…OH.

From the depths of the shadowed woods surrounding the sacred clearing come the sounds of dark fairies shouting obscenities and instructions, heaving and huffing and crying out in disarray as they labour towards some unseen task. Then, you hear the low rumble, as if of some great and terrible beast. You feel a pit open up in your stomach, wide enough to fall into, as the darkness itself seems to breach the treeline—a huge, rippling wave of midnight black spilling out into the clearing, only to split open into a blood-red cavern rimmed with white stalactites and stalagmites. A great, fanged mouth snaps and gnashes inches from your face, so that Muffins leaps forwards and—with cloven hooves upon his hind feet—kicks you back to save you from becoming a snack.

The monster—a great mass of matted, black fur in the rough shape of a canid—is bound about its waist, neck, and limbs by long, thick chains. It is by these that the beast is dragged back—though to accomplish this, each of the chains is manned by three or four of the Unseelie Fey.

“What on the Gods’ green earth is THAT?” your mother gasps.

“Bloody hell,” hisses your father, raising his sword in his—and your—defence.

“Poor bastard was going to be our champion, in his other aspect,” the male representative says, daring to pat the terrible, black wolf’s flank as you patted Muffins.

The beast doesn’t appreciate it, and he quickly ahs to dodge another ‘love bite’ of his tremendous and terrible captive.

“Instead,” the female enthuses, stroking his fur, “he’ll be my ‘mighty steed’,!”

When the wolf-thing wheels around to remove the offending hand upon his hackles, he instead comes eye-to-eye with the Unseelie in question. She casts a spell, some form of mentalism or mesmerism which you don’t have time to properly analyze, and it freezes in place, mouth half-agape and drooling. Slowly, the terrible wolf shuts its maw, and lowers its head. After a moment’s whispering, a few Unseelie risk to unlock the cuffs and manacles which bind this beastie. You watch with horror as the female fairy who has declared herself Champion of the Unseelie Court flutters up and alights, legs spread wide around monstrous midsection, atop the beast.

>>5882371
“Fuck,” you say, staring up at the towering titan of wild violence—easily twice Muffins’ size.

“I guess we know what their secret weapon was, now,” Endingray notes.

“What, a big bloody wolf?” you father asks, regaining his characteristic swagger. “I mean, it’s just an ANIMAL, innit? No match for MAGIC, wot?”

“A werewolf,” the elven bard corrects, and thus informs you as well. “A dire werewolf, and one of considerable malignancy by the looks of that spiritual miasma that serves as its aura.”

“Fuck,” you repeat, and then (having perceived its aura more closely) you add: “Shit.”

You mount Muffins—awkward without a saddle, and especially given that he is rather ill-shaped for it in comparison to a horse or the like, but he at least allows it to be done. Even so, you both must look upwards to meet the eye of the enemy steed and its rider. At least, you suppose, you can still <summon> your way to victory…

“What do you MEAN no summoning?!” you demand, a few short moments later, as the rules of this martial contest are made clear.

The Unseelie representatives look at you as if you are being rather silly.

“What kind of one-on-one duel involves summoning more warriors?” the male demands.

“Oh, let him,” the female scoffs, and glare at you. “For every elemental you summon, we’ll call in one of OUR number… Until we’re right back to a full-fledged assault and invasion. Is THAT what you’re after?”

You… Aren’t really sure. It would certainly betray the spirit of this duel… But without that spell, what are you to do?

“It’s not too late to switch places, my child,” your father reassures you.

What is your strategy?
>Boost Muffins to the maximum and go all out on a clash of titans
[will raise your courage stat by one]
>Attempt to evade, dip, dodge, and employ ranged spells to undo the enemy
>Summon some elementals to try to even the odds, and damn the consequences
>Switch places with Rudolfo—let him ride Muffins into battle after all
[will lower your Courage stat by one]
>Take some shirin
[Temporary boost to HP, improves Courage rolls, may trip balls and experience other side-effects]
>Write-in

>>5877890

hey QM i forgot what monstrous regen does — could we “overload” it and create tumors instead?

If thats the case then that’ll be our play and I will choose >Attempt to evade, dip, dodge, and employ ranged spells to undo the enemy

If not, we just ride.

>Boost Muffins to the maximum and go all out on a clash of titans
Let muffin do the work - and we keep his wounds healed.

am >>5881659

>>5882385
>hey QM i forgot what monstrous regen does — could we “overload” it and create tumors instead?
[I always allow clever write-ins, and this is no exception. I'd even give you a lowered DC, though overclocking a spell like that would cost more mana, and casting it requires physical contact be made at least once...]

>>5882373
>Boost Muffins to the maximum and go all out on a clash of titans
I say we fucking ball it. Any ranged spell we have won’t be effective due to the height difference and the werewolf probably has resistance to them, so we’ll only have an opening after weakning them. I’ll try thinking about some strategy for this fight.

>>5882373
>Boost Muffins to the maximum and go all out on a clash of titans

We can think up somthing more complex once we see how the enemy fight's.

Although i think the key killing the rider, the dire werewolf seems uncontrollably without the fey's magic.

>>5882373
>Take some shirin
>Boost Muffins to the maximum and go all out on a clash of titans
party time
load him up with fire/magma infusion and monstrous regen

If we get a chance we can try >>5882385
especially if it becomes evident that the werewolf has its own natural regeneration which they normally do.

just hope the rider doesn't have too many more tricks in the bag after controlling this thing

>>5882385
>casting it requires physical contact be made at least once...]

Alright then. I guess we’ll try to get close and touch the thing to overload it then.

Does this fall under
>Boost Muffins to the maximum and go all out on a clash of titans
or is both too mana-consuming?

am>>5882385

>>5882589
[It's entirely fine to write as taxing a gameplan as you'd like, but if you're spending mana on boosting Muffins and something else, you'll of course have less over all mana to do either thing. However, it isn't going to be a one-round combat, so this is just your starting salvo and initial strategy you're voting for.]

>>5882373
>Boost Muffins to the maximum and go all out on a clash of titans

>Debuff with Monstrous regen

>Shirin time

>>5882373
>Dispell whatever spell the Unseelie uses to control the werewolf

>>5882543
The key is absolutely the rider. She's the champion, the werewolf is just a mount. We shouldn't waste a single attack on him.

>>5882604
Ah I see. I’ll save that trick for later then.

For now, I’ll
>Boost Muffins to the maximum and go all out on a clash of titans

am >>5882589

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Rolled 6, 1, 4, 17, 16, 18 = 62 (6d20)

>>5883088
>>5882750
>>5882612
>>5882589
>>5882557
>>5882543
>>5882426
>>5882385
You’ll need an edge to win this—you know that. You’re no melee combatant. You are, in fact, ideally a NON-combatant! However, that isn’t an option tonight… And if you’re going to fight, you’re going to fight to win!

Your hand, in your pocket, finds your old packet of ‘shirin’ powder. A part of you suddenly craves for the mind-expanding stimulant—for that high, experienced once years ago, which brought you confidence and clarity. But, well, it also brought you VISIONS, neither real nor wholly unreal. Could that insight help you now? Maybe, but it’s just as likely to hinder as to help… Maybe moreso. You gulp down your fear in cold sobriety, and consider your other options.

“<Elemental Infusion>,” you intone, placing both hands upon your mount.

Muffins’ snake-head rears, hissing dangerously as it looms over your shoulder. Both his mammalian faces contort into red-eyes sneers appropriate to their kind, as he crouches and pads the ground Beneath you, his flesh shifts and ripples, and then almost rips away, exploding into fire and fury—magma and flame, an earthen structure like the magma elemental you <summoned> in your first battle but upon a rocky skeleton, with blood of burning magma and breath of rushing flag and puffing, smoggy smoke.

>2/5 MP left
>3/3 HP
>3/3 HP for Muffins
>DC of attacks against enemy reduced
>DC of attacks against Muffins increased
>Damage dealt by Muffins increased by 1

You hear your mother gasp and your father swear, obviously afraid for your own inflammability… But you are fine. Maybe a little warm, but that’s all. You are attuned to the realms of fire and of air, after all. You may now be able to effortlessly project flame and lightning as Izirina Henzler can, but neither can those elements cannot harm you as you are now—at least, not easily. You’re not sure you’d want to test FULL immunity without <Free Movement> on your side, or an <Elemental Infusion> of your own.

“Very fancy, elfman,” the Unseelie Champion drolls. “But your monster’s no match for mine!”

“Muffins isn’t a monster,” you snap. “and we’re MORE than a match for the likes of you.”

“Ha!” the fairy laughs, as she grabs handfuls of the wolf’s great, furry nape like they were horse’s reins. “We’ll see, shall we? Let’s DANCE!”

Well, you’ve always been a pretty good dancer… You suppose you’ll just have to see if two (or four, or maybe six if you count all of Muffin’s heads) can do this particular tango…

[3d20 for Muffins, DC brought down by 3 points for MAXIMUM OVERCHARGE, for 12]
[2d20 and 1d20 for your adversaries; DC for the werewolf is normally 14 against Muffins, but is currently 17; the rider is targeting you, DC 15]

>>5883105
Your hope lies in Muffins’ aura of intense heat and his rocky, bubbling skin of molten flesh. It doesn’t harm YOU (or your clothes, which you’re suddenly grateful are also attuned to the Elemental Planes)—but even his passage through the clearing carved a black and terrible path through the pristine and precious grass of the place, marring the natural world with his passage. You’d cringe at that, but you can set it right when you’re done—it isn’t a priority right now, with the moon-stone at stake! It is a small price to pay…

Or it would be, if the payoff had been worth it.

>6, 1, 4
vs
>17, 16 (Malignant Werewolf), 18 (Unseelie Champion)

The dreadful lycanthrope is, as it turns out, no regular wolf. Well, that much was obvious from the get-go, but what you had NOT expected was its sheer resistance and resilience in the face of powerful explanar elemental magic! However, as Muffin crashes into the monstrous, fiendish wolf-thing, it braces against the impact. With huge, hideously humanoid hands—how had you not noticed the unnatural additional digits?! eugh!—it seizes the snake-face of your furry-now-fiery friend before it can sink venomous and conflagratory fangs into the colossal canid. You would expect this to be the end up it, opposable thumbs or no… But even as Muffins roaring response and enraged thrashing splashes the werewolf with burning air and molten magma, it holds steady. Its flesh is burnt away… But just as quickly, it regenerates. Worse, the monster roars in response, its face close to you and to Muffins nearest heads, and the chill midnight wind which explodes forth sweeps over you both with a fell magic all its own.

>DEBUFFED
>You and Muffins both suffer +1 DC to your rolls for the next round

Muffins whines and whimpers in three animalistic language, while your own stomach twirls and tumbles, and your head goes hazy. You almost feel as if you AHD taken the shirin only that it was spoiled with its age. As the Unseelie Champion scrambles up her abominable animal’s back and hurls a javelin at you, you are helpless to dodge it. You intangibility avails you not, either—whatever black wood it is crafted from is either extraplanar as well, or enchanted. You tumble from Muffins’ back, even as your unfortunate ‘steed’ is hurled across the clearing, end over end, landing in a moaning heap.

>2/3 HP for Muffins
>2/3 HP for you

“Hahaha!” crows your Unseelie enemy. “how do you like those sour crab-apples, you moonie ponce?! And you, goddesses-on-high, how’re you now? THIS is your representative on Earth, is he?”

The other dark fairies waiting in the wings step forward into view, emboldened, taunting, laughing, jeering. More often than not, though, and more even than they revel in your humiliation, they gaze hungrily at the glow of the moon-stone, high on its sacred pedestal.

>>5883115
“Master Van Houtzmann,” Priestess Clanirae’s voice comes to you, close and quiet rather than shouted as one might expect from her elevated station, “can you still stand?”

You grit your teeth and suppress a cry of pain and woe as you tug the javelin free from your shoulder and woozily rise to your feet. You clutch at the wound, staining your only reliably wearable robes (now ruined regardless) with your lifeblood. Muffins lays still for a moment, but he’s breathing at least, and when you speak to him softly…

“Muffins…”

…He begins to rise, snarling and bleating with belligerent outrage. Your enchantment upon him still holds, but even with lava pouring forth from him instead of blood, you can tell he’s hurt, and limping as well.

“Oh?” mocks the Unseelie Champion. “You want another round with us, do you, LITTLE cousin?”

What will you do?
>Take the shirin
>Heal yourself
>Heal Muffins
>Attempt to overload the werewolf’s regeneration
[DC 14 to do so… But requires a Courage roll to get close enough, DC 16]
>Target the Unseelie Champion with <Magic Missile> and attempt to unseat her
[No Courage required, DC 14 to hit her and 16 to unseat her]
>Climb back upon Muffins and charge again!
[DC 13 for Muffins’ attack, but if you want to cast while riding him (especially ranged attacks) your lack of mounted combat experience will affect your DCs]
>Surrender—you can’t do this
>Write-in

[Remember to refer to >>5879423 (the attached picture) for your spells and such]

Off to a good start, as always.

>>5883118
>Climb back upon Muffins and charge again - so we could touch the werewolf and overload his regeneration

Getting close while dismounted against him ain’t good, but getting a shot with magic missile doesn’t seem like a good prospect either. It’s this then. Cripple the wolf and back off.


>>5883088

>>5879423
For Faerie fire, what does it do again? I vaguely remember it being a fire that doesn’t burn.

And daylight. I forgot that one too.

>>5883167
>For Faerie fire, what does it do again?
it reveals occult things, like faes and other beings like the spirits at the tree. It's just that after the extra-plane incident we don't need it to see them anymore.

>>5883118
Ok so overloading requires dc 16 to try and another dc 14 to succeed, both with 3d20 -
works out to roughly 42% chance of success, would not recommend. Plus it might be even worse since we've been debuffed - not sure if the option DCs factored that in. The main source of difficulty there is the courage roll, which I don't think we can bypass by riding Muffins into range.

Magic missile has either 57.8 or 48.8% chance to unseat the rider and up to 72.5% to just hit

Muffins retry has the best chances and is the coolest so I'll go with that one even though it probably has less payout than the others

>>5883195
[The debuff effect is already factored into the listed DCs]

>>5883118
>Climb back upon Muffins and charge again!

>>5883167
>>5883190
[This. Also: it casts a light that wizards, elves, and magical creatures can see, but not goblinoids, humans, dwarves, halflings, or gnomes. Useful for sneaking into places with mainly mundane/nonmagical foes.]

[If you anons ever want to pour a hail-mary attempt into creating a new spell by overclocking an old (like this regeneration overload attempt), feel free to pitch it.]

>>5883298
>Useful for sneaking into places with mainly mundane/nonmagical foes
thanks op

>>5883118
>Anons vote to go big or go home
>Get fucked
A tale older than /qst/
I vote again to
>Try and dispel the spell controlling the wolf

>>5883427
>Try and dispel the spell controlling the wolf
I think that'd need a higher dc

>>5883118
>Climb back upon Muffins and charge again!
>Use the proximity to overload werewolf's regen

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>>5883728
>>5883427
>>5883270
>>5883195
>>5883166
[Writing!]

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Rolled 9, 5, 1, 19, 14, 2 = 50 (6d20)

>>5883755
>>5883755
“Muffins,” you say again.

The chimera rumbles, shaking his back right leg repeatedly until the soreness is dissipated enough to move normally. He runs towards you, then, as you jog to meet him. You reach out, through the fire of his mane to the floating, half-anchored hot stone ‘skin’ you’ve given him, and haul yourself atop your elementally-infused ally.

The Unseelie watch you do this, booing and hissing, but their Champion, leans on her elbows and beers over the slathering maw and shining eyes of her lycanthropic mount.

“This doesn’t NEED to be to the death, you know?” she suggests. “Give us the moon-stone, cousin. We’ll let you all go, and live. We aren’t here to hurt or kill anyone.”

“But you WILL,” you point out flatly.

“We just want what’s ours by right,” she spits back. “We’ll do what we have to, to GET our birthright!”

“Which is why you don’t deserve it,” you retort.

“YOU lot will kill US lot to protect it!” the Unseelie Champion snaps back. “Why do YOU deserve to walk in moonlight? To be healed, restored? Why do YOU get to be whole, and we don’t? Because you suck up to THEM lot, up there on the moon?!”

“Enough talk,” you say, tamping down your instinctive curiosity to focus on the hard fight before you. “We’re dueling, aren’t we?”

“I guess we are,” the Unseelie sighs, shrugging melodramatically as her audience woops and hollers.

“Come on, my child!” Rudolfo Van Houtzmann cheers you on, shouting over the cacophony as Laskar Endingray begins to play a rapid tune upon an especially-piercing woodwind. “You’ve got this! Give him an injury he can’t shrug off!”

Easier said than done, with the dread werewolf’s rapid regeneration and his equally-abhorrent physical might. Still, it’s the best plan you’ve got.

“Go,” you command Muffins, and with a roar and a caprine battle-wail, he shoots forwards. You clean on for dear life, squinting your eyes against the rushing wind and exhaled smog of your mount as you look for an opening.

[Same rolls as before, but your DC is higher]

>>5883804
Dice god hate us.

>>5883804
bruh wtf

>>5883807
wait, at least the rider didn't pass his roll now so we have a better chance

>>5883804
>>5883807
>>5883815
>9, 5, 1 for Muffins; CRITICAL FAILURE
>19, 14 (Malignant Werewolf), 2 (Unseelie Champion)
The wolf charges in turn, spurred on by the whooping fairy-woman atop its shoulders. With its greater size, it is upon Muffins before your own beast can leap and tear, intercepting your own charge. Poor Muffins is knocked off all four feet and into the air, taking you with him. You cling for dear life, crying out automatically in fear before you can stop yourself. However, you soon wish you didn’t, for when Muffins comes tumbling down, it is atop you.

>1/3 HP left for Tips
>1/3 HP left for Muffins

You can barely breathe, crushed beneath what must be two hundred pounds of inexplicably-integrated jungle cat, livestock, and thrashing serpent… All on fire. You’re mostly fireproof, but the sensation of the heat still further oppresses your limited respiration. Muffins himself is soon pinned beneath the even GREATER weight of the huge wolf, stopping either of you from righting yourselves.

You hear with heartbreaking proximity when Muffins cries out in agony and panic, as the wolf sinks his knifelike teeth into the burning lava-body of your friend. The wolf itself roars in pain as he reips away a layer of transmuted flesh, but the lycanthropic regeneration restored your enemy’s face… While Muffins remains injured.

>0/3 HP left for Muffins

“Give it up!” the Unseelie Champion cackles. “Foolish little elf, taking this duel was the second most foolish thing you could have done. Giving me permission to bring in our secret weapon here was the GREATEST blunder, though! You don’t have a single spell that could save you from what will happen next. Surrender or die, LITTLE COUSIN!”

Not a single spell? Well… It’s a risk. A BIG one. You and Muffins are both in rough shape—Muffins, in fact, is barely conscious, and likely would not survive another attack now that he can’t defend himself. But you could fix that… Or you could use the cover he’s providing you, and this fairy-woman’s (possibly deserved) overconfidence to execute a more daring maneouvre before beast or rider can respond.

(Or you could surrender, and save Muffins’ life…)

Whatever you do, this is your last shot.
>Surrender
>Heal Muffins back up
>Use <Free Movement> to slip through Muffins and strike the Unseelie Champion directly
>Attempt to affect werewolf’s mind with a modified and boosted <Calm> spell
>Try to overload the werewolf’s regeneration by overcharging <Monstrous Regeneration>
><Clone> the werewolf, and set one great beast upon another
><Summon> an Elemental as a distraction
>Write-in

>>5883816
[The rider is a woman. Well, a girl-fairy. She kind of looks like a shaggy little mothman with a twisted grey elf-face and pointy ears, and grey alien eyes. Up to you if that's a woman, but she's not male.]

>>5883817
bruh we even got a crit failure this time, alright anons any ideas ?

>>5883819
>The rider is a woman
I forgot about it and it was even said in the start of the duel, kek

>>5883817
>Heal Muffins back up
>"I didn't hear no bell"

>>5883817
>Try to overload the werewolf’s regeneration by overcharging <Monstrous Regeneration>
Akira style

>>5883817
><Clone> the werewolf, and set one great beast upon another

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>>5883817
>Try to overload the werewolf’s regeneration by overcharging <Monstrous Regeneration>
We was always a sore loser..

>dice backloads twice
Bruh

>>5883999

am>>5883166

>>5883999
Backload ?

>>5883817
>Attempt to affect werewolf’s mind with a modified and boosted <Calm> spell.

Seems like they struggle to normally control the werewolf. Considering that they kept him in chains, an enrage spell might set him upon his rider and her allies.

>>5883817
>Attempt to affect werewolf’s mind with a modified and boosted <Calm> spell
Super tumors will take too long and might kill us all if it really is Akira style. Let's go with super tranquility.

>>5884099
All the good rolls were back-loaded as opposed to being front-loaded (our rolls)

[It's a pretty close vote (and a tie) and I'm honestly a little out-of-it today, so I may wait until tomorrow to post again. I'm enjoying the discussion and planning, though!]

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Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>5884241
>>5884196
>>5884107
>>5883999
>>5883915
>>5883873
>>5883834
[Rolling for it!]

File: Mind-Palace-05.png (346 KB, 2780x1564)

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>>5884784
Despite your desperate straits—no, because of them—a dozen different plans jog through your mind like little leaves whipped up by a gale-wind, whirling about and supplanting one another faster than you can properly weigh and consider them. Some people freeze up in such situations, unable to think of ANYTHING to do, simply stock-still like terrified prey. You aren’t like that, though. In the Goblin Wastes, in the Chimericism classroom before then, you learned what matters of life-and-death do to you. Your time betwixt the Elemental planes crystallized that. It isn’t a matter of courage, its abundance or dearth; it is a matter of survival, and necessity.

You force yourself to focus. Time slows down. Your body is weak, your heart wanting, but your mind is, as ever, your greatest weapon. You bring it now to bear.

You could heal Muffins… But he’s still pinned atop you, still at the mercy of this terrorizing dread-wolf as you are. What chance does he really have, as things stand, to right himself and return the ‘favour’ he’s been dealt before, say, simply being savaged anew and left dead? Unconscious as he is, he is ironically safest.

Then… You could heal the werewolf?

By casting <Monstrous Regeneration> rather than <Cure Wounds>, and upon a creature already largely uninjured and quite capable of restoring its own flesh and blood by some unhallowed means, you THINK you could ‘overload’ the monster’s capacity to mend itself… Perhaps creating tumorous growths, or extra limbs, or some other deformity. That would distract, disorient, and disturb ANYTHING, even an ensorcelled enemy like this, surely? Maybe even cripple its body? Of course, that’s a lot of ‘ifs’. You would only have one shot at this. No, it’s too risky.

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Rolled 11, 10, 12, 19, 18 = 70 (5d20)

>>5884801
As the werewolf’s fury looms over you, casting Death’s own deep, dark shadow, you return again to the nature of that rage. This dire werewolf… WHY does it have such fury? You’ve never crossed or wronged it. You have nothing it wants. It looks a little underfed, perhaps, but starvation and appetite alone cannot explain such aggression—not when it has primary been rewarded with molten, fiery blood it cannot consume. No, the chains of the unseelie—physical, then mental—are what motivates it. It is a FALSE anger, a PRETEND fury, an ARTIFICAL impetus to attack. It does not serve its rider willingly. You cannot imagine such a being ever being docile or meek, but it is not necessarily YOUR foe to fight. YOUR foe is the baying, grinning fairy riding atop this monster.

You squirm out from under Muffins, whispering unheard words of comfort and assurance to your whining, groaning friend as you go.

“It’s okay,” you say. “You did well. I love you, Muffins. You’re a very good chimera.”

He doesn’t show any sign of having heard you, but you reach out through the flaming armour you’ve encased him in to gently caress his soul. You feel the communion, and his body goes limp, tension leaving it, as his breathing becomes even and <Calm>.

You turn your eyes then to the werewolf, and its eyes meet yours. You’d expected yellow eyes, somehow—yellow like those of your goblins friend Zith-Zi, whose gaze you’ve always regarded as ‘wolfish’. They aren’t, though. These eyes have the same pale, subtly-complex opalescence as those for the clan’s priestess, Clanirae. You see upset there: disturbance, distress, confusion. You do not, in fact, see to desire to kill you. Its fangs are bared, its hackles raised, its mouth now opens and lunges forth to bite you in two, and yet this is not the desire of the dire werewolf itself—however malignant or malevolent it may otherwise be.

You are here defending and representing the Bonum Chaoticum—the Chaotic Good Gods, the Gods of Freedom and the Wilderness. In their name, you reach out to liberate this poor, unfortunate soul from his affliction, as you have Izirina, and Costella, and Hirschel the Drake, and your father, and so many others.

>>5884805
The jaws rush in. In real-time, the wolf doesn’t really delay, doesn’t meet your eyes for long at all before he resolves to kill and consume you. You have barely a moment to struggle to your feet, no time at all to raise your hand. You are already between the teeth when your hand rest upon the werewolf’s cheek…

>19

…But the teeth don’t pierce your soft, pale skin. Your poor, bedraggled robes are no further-savaged than they already have been. The wolf holds you between those jaws—jaws that almost wrap around your torso—but does not bite down. You stroke the werewolf’s fur softly, feeling rather awkward now that the tension has passed… But you know you have succeeded. You’ve done more than SOOTHED this savage beast: you have freed it.

>1/4 MP left
>New spell acquired: <Free Senses>! Allows you to remove the effects of mind control, illusion, mental illness, or chemical intoxication from a touched individual, with varying degrees of efficacy or permanency

“What are you waiting for?!” the Unseelie Champion demands, kicking her heels into the sides of her fearsome mount. “If he won’t surrender, it’s to-the-death, damn it all! I didn’t hear any bells or begging, so KILL him!”

The dire werewolf doesn’t kill you, though. It opens its mouth wider, allowing you to take a step back and to adjust your robes and hat. The Unseelie Champion stares at you in confusion, as if not sure why you aren’t dead. She still hasn’t comprehended what’s happened, you realize, at least not consciously. She reaches for another blackwood spear from the sheaf upon her back, to stab you or to hurl it through you, but before she can the dire werewolf rear up.

“Woah! Wh-what..?!”

The Unseelie Champion is thrown off, landing upon the ground and holding her spear between herself and her former steed. The werewolf stands on its hind legs now, not quite like a man but rather like a bear. It regards the Unseelie around it through intelligent eyes—too intelligent for those of a beast. Its gaze hovers on you for a moment longer than the dark fairies, and then settles gradually upon its former rider.

“Oh,” the Unseelie Champion squeaks, finally recognizing the predicament in its totality. “Oh, I’m fucked aren’t I?”

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>>5884825
The dark fairy titters nervously, without humour, and scoots back rapidly as the dire werewolf advances on her. It leans forward, unwieldly on two legs under its great weight, and begins to growl low and deep. Where it had no anger of its own against YOU, you sense it certainly does against this creature and her kin—its Unseelie enslavers, who brought the werewolf here in chains and shackles. It needs no mental or emotional push to rip the likes of this fairy-girl to shreds, and to devour her alive and screaming right in that very clearing, before the other Unseelie, and Clanirae, and the Goddesses of the Moon, and you.

“S-s-surrender!” the Unseelie Champion wails. “I surrender! You win! It’s over! It’s DONE, I say!”

You can feel all eyes on the impending spectacle, all emotions paused and wavering in the clearing. With dawning horror, or triumph, or disgust, or excitement, everyone knows they are about to behold the darkest aspect of nature, red in tooth and claw, made all the worse by the vindictive vengeance of which only a sapient being is capable.

>Watch as the Unseelie Champion is eaten alive—she deserves it
>Turn away and cover your ears—whatever happens next is none of your concern
>Intervene—speak up in defence of the fairy, now that the fight is over
>Write-in

>>5884831
>Turn away and cover your ears—whatever happens next is none of your concern
while she was gonna gut us, I'm not gonna savour her death.

>>5884831
>>Turn away and cover your ears—whatever happens next is none of your concern
>Heal Muffin with last MP

>>5884831
>Intervene—speak up in defence of the fairy, now that the fight is over
She gave us several chances to surrender, she deserves the same courtesy

>>5884831
>Intervene—speak up in defence of the fairy, now that the fight is over
Let her be a living example of what happens when you fuck with us, and have her repay the life debt by enforcing this new truce on the rest of Unseelie- no more attempts on the moonstone, ever. Should be enough to have a living example.
>Heal Muffins, maybe with Moon Daughter’s help
She should have spare MP, and Moonsteed just sounds cool.

>>5884831
The werewolf does not obey us, sorry
>Turn away and cover your ears—whatever happens next is none of your concern

>>5885030
>>5884947
>>5884938
>>5884905
>>5884882
You frown, watching the werewolf advance upon its one-time master. You know that, with what you’ve just done for the monstrous lycanthrope, you could probably intervene. A word or action on your part could spare this so-called ‘Champion’ of the Unseelie…

But even so, you turn away from the embattled pair, saying nothing.

The Unseelie are your enemy. You won’t relish this fairy’s demise, but she—like her fellows—is a bandit, a murderer, a thief, and a slaver. If the Unseelie are not intrinsically evil in the manner of demons, they are no less guilty of their crimes; in fact, having come from a source of goodness and light like your Gods, they’re arguably MORE culpable for what they’ve done. Every fairy in the shadows who was mocking your loss and Muffin’s mangling, baying for both of your blood, coveting the moon-stone so piratically has made the conscious choice to behave as they do, and they have been inflicting unconscionable harm on others for long, long lifetimes without giving consideration to mortal beings like your mother, let alone those of the human race like your father. Maybe, just maybe, this will be a teachable moment for them.

At any rate, it’s none of your business. This is between the wolf and the fairy.

You lay your hands upon Muffins, spending the last of your magic to <Cure> his wounds. You watch as the <elemental Infusion> fades and flows out of him, his body returning to flesh, blood, fur, and fang once more. His grass-wilting, ground-clearing heat is reduced to the normal, comforting warmth of your beloved pet and friend. His torn-open chest and ragged throat are restored before the pooling magma can become true blood again. He opens is eyes, two at a time, and nuzzles against you from two sides as the snake-head lifts high and turns to face the horrifying spectacle which shortly unfolds.

You bury your face in Muffins, hugging him close, as much out of gratitude that he is healed as to shield your eyes and ears against the screams, and the begging, and the sounds of ripping and tearing flesh, and of breaking bone, and of grim and grisly silence. You’re not sure how long it takes, but you know it’s not as swift as it could have been.

Eventually, a hand finds your shoulder, and passes through it, given your current state. You still eel it, though, and lift your tearful face to see your mother gazing down at you.

“It’s over,” she assures you.

>>5885085
Despite this promise, it takes considerable effort to turn your eyes towards where your adversary was, a few minutes ago Now, you see a small reddish pond pouting out into tiny tributaries, where your clash of titans ripped up the turf and where such fluids can now pool. AT the centre of this little lake of crimson-black is the banner you lifted to signal your acceptance of the duel—now draped solemnly by your father over a lumpy, blessedly-hidden shape.

The rest of the Unseelie are nowhere to be seen.

“Is it… Over?” you ask, almost pleading. "REALLY over, for good?"

“It is,” Endingray tells you, as he cleans his pipe. “They won’t be back. You turned their greatest weapon against them and beat their champion. They’re broken. They’ve lost, and they know it.”

The elven bard, you notice, had stopped playing when the werewolf began extracting his vengeance. No triumphant whistling tune, and no funeral dirge. It was not, you suppose, a very musical moment.

Clanirae seems to agree with Laskar Endingray’s assessment, at least insofar as the matter being settled. She leaves the sacred moon-stone upon the altar as she, floatingly, descends the tall steps of the temple to meet with you and your gathered allies.

“You’ve done us a great service,” she says, to all of your group, but especially to you. “You’ve made Dappulyet safe for a generation, at least. But beware: the Unseelie won’t break a bargain thus enforced, but they WILL look for a way to make you pay for this loss that DOESN’T violate the agreement.”

“My boy can look after himself,” your father boasts on your behalf. “I think he’s proven that much, ey wot?”

“Indeed,” Clanirae admits with a smile. “He’s proven a great deal. The Princess will be very interested to meet you.”

>>5885088
That’s right… Tomorrow night is the night of the new moon, when at last you will meet your spiritual ancestor and your clan’s most ennobled patron god, Princess Miannie of the New Moon. You feel excitement at this prospect—of the encounter with so auspicious an entity, of all that you might learn from her, and of how you might transform yourself and even the world for the better as a result. Between the waning excitement of battle, the gory horror of the aftermath, and the effects of fighting back fear for so long, though… Well, your excitement is unable to overwhelm a nauseous exhaustion which now seizes you.

And yet, you still cannot sleep. There is yet one more matter to settle. After all, watching you all is still the bloody-muzzled, eerie-eyed spectre of a wolf the size of a bear and the mind of a man: a werewolf.

The werewolf makes no move to approach you, either in aggression or in gratitude. Nor do you or your party approach the werewolf, you suppose. You just stare at each other for a time, each contemplating the other. You know little of lycanthropes—only that they are darkly-intentioned shapeshifters possessed of some form of spiritual-physical contagion. What additional details you’ve learned today do little to dispel the (justifiable) prejudices of your scant tutelage. Still, this beastly being doesn’t seem overly rapacious at this moment—just curious, even expectant.

What will you do?
>Shoo the werewolf away—your business is concluded
>Capture or kill the werewolf with your allies—it’s a dangerous monster
>Attempt to communicate with the werewolf [what do you tell it, or ask of it?]
>Try to recruit the werewolf—it sort of owes you its freedom, after all
>Write-in

>>5885090
>Attempt to communicate with the werewolf [Friend?]
>Try to recruit the werewolf—it sort of owes you its freedom, after all
Shame about the future problems- would’ve been nice to have someone on the inside thought patrol them. Oh well.

Time to make a new friend!

>>5885090
>Attempt to communicate with the werewolf [what do you tell it, or ask of it?]
Approach. Give food. Walk back.

>Try to recruit the werewolf
A wild animal it may be, we really cannot risk the thing falling into the faeries’ hands again.

>>5885090
>Attempt to communicate with the werewolf [Ask it if it wants aid or assistance]

>>5885173
>+1

>>5885090
>Try to recruit the werewolf—it sort of owes you its freedom, after all

Hey buddy, did you see how you just tore up Muffins who was fighting for me? That could be you getting torn up while fighting for me!

>>5885090
>>Try to recruit the werewolf—it sort of owes you its freedom, after all
Pokemon trainer road go! Lycanroc, I choose you!

>>5885203
Supporting

>>5885399
>>5885359
>>5885308
>>5885260
>>5885203
>>5885173
>>5885137

You can’t help yourself: even as you are aware how powerful and dangerous the dire werewolf is, you ALSO remember how soft its fur was to the touch. Though you are well aware it could rip you apart with a single slash of its claws or bite of its jaws, you thrill at the thought of having such power at YOUR beck and call.


“Uh, hi,” you hazard, taking a step forward. The werewolf’s eyes and head follow your movements, but it makes no other move.

“Ezreal, what are you doing?!” your mother asks, voice hushed but obviously alarmed.

“Careful, my boy,” your father suggests. “I’ve encountered werewolves before. They're no joke.”

“’Encountered’ meaning we ran away from a pack of them,” your mother notes. “They’re deadly.”

“I DID say they were serious,” your father mutters. “You didn’t need to get into details, wot?”

You appreciate the risk, obviously... But, well when you think about it, it’s not SO different from Muffins. People call HIM a monster, too, but ultimately an animal is an animal... And that means that even a creature like this is, potentially, a friend.

...Right?

You approach slowly, holding out a hand low and loose, body language relaxed. Yoru shoulder—still unhealed—screams at you for the effort, but you keep the limb held out. Canines, as you know, interact with the world mostly through their nose. You keep your expression passive and placid, avoiding direct eye contact this time—often perceived by predators as a challenge or threat, and wait for the dire werewolf to sniff your hand. You comfort your nerves with the knowledge that, if he bites it off instead, you can cast <Monstrous Regeneration> to restore it... If you survive long enough to do so. Luckily, the wolf ALSO makes no move to do THAT.

“Hi there, uh, friend,” you speak softly and soothingly. “Ae you hungry?”

Your gaze flits to the bloody banner laying upon the ground, covering the remains of his recent ‘meal’.

“Uh, maybe not,” you acknowledge, swallowing up a rising tide of bile. “But maybe... You’d like somewhere to stay? Or need help to, uh, get where you're going?”

How intelligent ARE lycanthropes? Is this creature understanding any of what you're saying? You can’t tell, with its blank expression and calm, but unshifting, stance. You meet its eyes again, though, and there you find not blank incomprehension, but something... Else. You squint your eyes, and then they widen as the werewolf makes its move, and you leap back and assume a defensive stance, scrambling for your wand only for it to—damn it all!--slip through your intangible fingers and tumble to the ground. You swear, repeatedly, eyes flitting between your wand and the wolf, only to find that it’s not lunging forward. Rather... it’s transforming.

>>5885623
You watch with equal parts fascination and horror as the wolf’s already-distorted, mutated body shifts and warps. Your father and Endingray, already taking up weapons to protect you, pause at your urgent gesturing and hold where they are. The werewolf rears up on its hind legs as before. Its limbs lengthen, as its overall body shrinks. Fur is subsumed into flesh—not shrinking or parting, but rather being consumed by a rippling tide of porous skin that wraps over it like a suit of untreated, greyish-pink hide, smooth and remarkably hairless given its owner. Some of the hair bunches and clumps into a shaggy sort of mane about the head of the beast, as its newly-naked muzzle subsides into flattened, leanly-angular face. With cracks, pops, and sickening slurping sounds the lycanthrope performs an act of near-instantaneous self-chimerism such as you have never before seen. A part of you hopes to never see it again, but the better part of your—your mage’s mind, you seeker’s curiosity—wishes to study the process and better understand it.

Before you now stands not a predatory beast of eldritch woodland, but a well-muscled, messy-haired, opal-eyed elfman, a little taller and broader than Laskar Endingray. He is naked—something which makes you flush as you hastily avert your gaze for modesty's sake—but seems rather unbothered by this. He has no evidence of savagery save for his unshorn head and sideburns, and the rough, ragged darkness of his overlong nails when you look quite closely. He is, alas, not a furry friend whom you can keep as a pet like Muffins. On the bright side, you can only interpret his reversion to a less animalistic form as progress.

“Do you... Have a name?” you ask awkwardly, when the werewolf declines to say or do anything besides, as before, simply stand there in silence.

“Oncyth,” he replies.

You realize you're still holding out you hand for him to sniff and, hastily, pull it back.

“Ezreal,” you reply. “Ezreal Van Houtzmann.”

“You freed me,” the werewolf—Oncyth—replies bluntly. “I am indebted to you.”

“I... Guess?” you reply.

“What would you have me do?”

You stare blankly for a moment, all that mental, physical, and spiritual exhaustion (and bloodloss, no doubt) taking their toll.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I... Uh... Can I think about it?”

Oncyth nods.

You look to the others—most especially priestess Clanirae, in the hopes they will offer some suggestion or assistance as to how to handle this. Most of them simply shrug or stare fixedly, in wary watchfulness, at this ‘Oncyth’. Clanirae frowns slightly, but nods, in a gesture you can only interpret as acceptance of your own decision to recruit the man-wolf into your company.

>>5885624
As you return to the others, your mother rushes forward to cast a healing spell upon your shoulder, while Muffins maintains an uneasy orbit around you, keeping the lycanthrope at a safe distance from the both of you as she works.

“Be careful, Ezreal,” Mylaerlea Mious cautions you. “Therianthropes aren’t... They’re dark creatures. Feral, wild-at-heart. Unpredictable like an animal, but with the cunning of their ancestors.”

Well, you saw what Oncyth does to those who cross him, so you can’t exactly argue that point. Still, you’d rather have him on your side than against you, and you don’t SENSE any hostile intent from him.

“He won’t be welcome in Dappulyet,” your mother adds.

Oncyth seems to recognize this as well, for as the elves of the settlement emerge from their abodes to see what has become of your small fighting force, he makes his first move since reverting to his elven form: he takes a single step back and then, with one last look in your direction, leaps into the woods and is seen no more. You get the feeling he didn’t go far, though... Do your unease, you feel as if you can still somehow sense his attentions upon you.

For now, you take a well-earned, much-needed rest.

What will you do tomorrow?

>Speak with Clanirae about the upcoming meeting with the Goddess of the New Moon
>Ask around about werewolves and other therianthropes, so you know what you’re getting into with Oncyth
>Go find the wolf-elf and get his measure more directly [specify if you bring anyone]
>Just spend the day relaxing—you’ve earned it!--and maybe see if you can’t find Sylvare...
>Write-in

>>5885626
>Speak with Clanirae about the upcoming meeting with the Goddess of the New Moon

>>5885626
>Just spend the day relaxing—you’ve earned it!--and maybe see if you can’t find Sylvare...
It's VERY IMPORTANT to master our intangibility so we can phase through things when we want and hold things when we want. Practice with Sylvare is clearly the best way to accomplish this.

>>5885626
>>Speak with Clanirae about the upcoming meeting with the Goddess of the New Moon
I was unfortunately unable to express myself in the whole Sylvare thing.
A fling was fine for me; I still have an end-goal of messed-up three-way relationship with the two girls that makes untangeability a non-issue. So voting against more elfmaid-old-enough-to-be-our-grandmother (or maybe-our-kinky-grandmother) "fun"

>>5885626
>Just spend the day relaxing—you’ve earned it!--and maybe see if you can’t find Sylvare...

>>5885695
[Sylvare is essentially an 18-year-old by elf standards, so probably in her 30s or 40s. Tips is in his mid-thirties, but now more or less resembles a human in their early twenties; as a half-elf, he ages a bit faster. Just a point of order.]

>>5885695
It doesn't stop being a fling because we just boned once already, nobody's voting to make it more serious. Also we need more experience to impress Costella, there's no way she isn't pulling mad dick with that paragon body.

>>5885767
>Also we need more experience to impress Costella, there's no way she isn't pulling mad dick with that paragon body.
nah, she can remain virgin

>>5885773
Bro I don't think she was a virgin even before changing

>>5885626
>Just spend the day relaxing—you’ve earned it!--and maybe see if you can’t find Sylvare...

im sure well see him again
>>5885173

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>>5885829
>>5885773
>>5885767
[Minor spoilers for anons whoa re invested in relationship stuff:
>Is Costella Fanucci a virgin?
Not exactly
>Does she get 'mad dick'?
No, not a ton, as she's a big of a romantic
>Is she having sex right now?
She hasn't been sexually active since being transformed, as she's currently still holding out hope for Tips

>>5885878
>>5885712
>>5885695
>>5885688
>>5885637
[Writing!]

>>5885903
You have no inclination whatsoever to go charging off into an unfamiliar woodland which, even if it is benevolent in the way of enchanted domains of feyfolk, is ALSO presently home to a fairy-eating werewolf. At any rate, Oncyth said you had time to think about how he might repay his life-debt to you, so he can’t have gone far. Rather than dwell on this immediately upon waking, you take a moment to just… Breathe.

Your mother has prepared herbal tea, with sprigs of spritemint to lend the beverage a refreshing ‘zing’. Nothing quite matches the pick-me-up of knowing that tonight, for the first time in many nights, you don’t need to worry about any pitched battles-to-the-death. Even now, having been in several such altercations, you are NOT a fighter. You do NOT relish blood and guts and… Eurgh. No, this evening—the evening of the New Moon feast, and of your meaning with THE Divine Princess Miannie herself—shall be a VERY welcome change of pace.

Of course, that DOES leave you with most of your day free…

You sip your tea, petting Muffins as you do. The big furry lug is sleeping in later than usual, but after all the damage he sustained yesterday, he deserves it. Physical wounds heal faster than mental and emotional ones and, if Muffins enjoys causing trouble and inflicting injury in the manner of carnivores and ‘monsters’ the world over, he also shares all living beings’ natural aversion to RECEIVING such trauma.

“Poor guy,” you sigh, stroking his soft cat ears and scratching under the chin of the goat head.

Eventually Muffins swats at you, demanding peace without pets. Your tea, too, is finished. Your thoughts turn to other things you might do to pass the time, with your responsibilities settled. And as far as ‘doing things’… Well, it isn’t long before your mind turns to a certain redheaded young elfmaid who is, it turns out, rather adept at ‘doing’. Maybe Sylvare would like to hear about your heroic exploits dueling a champion of the Unseelie Fey and taming a deadly, dire werewolf?

You find Sylvare with her friends—mostly other elfmaids her age, which is to say either slightly younger or slightly older than you, depending on how you count things. You wave as you approach, and immediately the assembled elves fall not giggles, whispering to one another or-in at least a few cases—prancing off while glancing back at you. You raise your eyebrows and frown a little, and look to Sylvare for answers.

“What did you, uh… Tell them?” you ask.

Sylvare shrugs innocently, looking faintly guilty.

>>5885938
“I mean, it’s a small village, you know?” she says. “Word gets around without anyone having to TELL anyone anything, sometimes.”

“So they know about… Uh…”

Sylvare avoids eye contact, whistling a tune.

“You know,” you point out a little sourly despite yourself, “in human lands, it’s considered rude to, you know, kiss and tell.”

Sylvare regards you with a surprisingly sultry look that throws you off-balance for a moment, as she retorts: “We did a little more than kiss.”

“Well…”

“And it’s not EVERYONE who gets to say they gave lilbh'iahin d'l'norrs to a GHOST!”

“Sylvare!” you cry, face bright red by now.

“I’m just saying,” she laughs.

“I’m not a ghost,” you pout, unsure whether you’re more miffed that knowledge of your ‘condition’ is so widespread, or knowledge of your little tryst.

“Aww, don’t be mad, Ezreal!” Sylvare appeases you. “It’s kind of fantastical, when you think about it! Like one of those old stories about a girl being seduced away by one of the True Fey and spirited away, you know?”

You regard her coolly—well, you hope you come across as ‘cool’—and ask in a levekl tone: “Does that mean you’d like to be ‘spirited away’ again?”

Sylvare laughs bemusedly and, when she realizes you’re serious, she laughs harder Your frown and flushed face return, and she covered her mouth daintily—a little too late.

“Sorry, Ezreal,” she says. “It was… I mean, it was still nice, but passing through a guy when he’s… it’s just too weird.”

You sulk for a time. ‘Is this a hero’s reward?’ You cannot help but think. Your mind turns back to Izirina and Costella, inevitably—two women who have affection for you AND absolute arcano-physical compatibility. Nether are HERE, though, and your feelings about both make that whole matter rather muddled, emotionally. Maybe that’s why you were looking for something quick and fun, away from them on this little adventure?

(Or maybe, now especially, you’re just young, lonely, and sexually frustrated)

All in all, you’d say…
>You miss them both—or at least one of them—and long for them, unashamedly
>You’d rather take your pleasures—and seek out romance—elsewhere
>You’re going to swear off women for a while, and clear your head
>Write-in

>>5885939
With your ‘plans’ for the afternoon spoiled, you lend a hand here and there where you can. More often than not, the elves of Dappulyet politely decline your help, or accept but hasten to take up your tasks and to relieve you of such duties. You ARE, however, talked up by many an elf, and asked to recount again and again your exploits of the previous evenings. At some point, Endingray and your father actually lay you backing music to emphasize your telling of the tale, which is quite the ego boost AND somehow also leaves you feeling faintly ridiculous. When your father launches into tales of the first night’s battle, and then segues into a rather embellished retelling of your journey together to the Goblin Wastes, you are rather glad of the opportunity to escape everyone’s attentions—and with many ‘samples’ of the upcoming feast tucked into a massive rolled-up leaf, no less, since everyone wants the hero-of-the-day to enjoy their contribution to the celebration YOU made possible.

(It takes the edge off the earlier embarrassment, at least)

The space around the shrine is the quietest, at this time. Soon it will be the centre of all activity, but for now, it is the perfect place to lean against the chalk-covered stones and to pick and choose from among the many elvish delicacies upon your ‘plate’.

“Careful,” comments a soft voice. “You’ll spoil your appetite AND your outfit.”

You glance over at Priestess Clanirae, who is rubbing a drowsy eye but nevertheless awake. It must be early evening already, then. The day really flew by, even as you tried to take it easy!

“After all that fighting, I could eat a horse,” you comment.

“I don’t think that’s on the menu,” she notes, tapping her chin.

“I was joking.”

“I know,” she says with a smile. “We have humour where I come from, you know, and religious responsibility hasn’t robbed me of ALL of it yet.”

You huff, and stuff another ‘spring roll’ (made of rolled-up leaves, bathed in a light oil, and stuffed with sweet berries and savory herbs) into your face.

“As for my attire,” you note, “my robes are pretty ruined already, aren’t they?”

You tug at the blood-stained hole exposing your healed-but-bared shoulder, and frown at the reminder that your one-and-only change of clothes that you won’t accidentally phase through are now damaged.

“I don’t suppose you moon-elves have any mystical tailors I can ask about this?” you joke.

“I might,” Clanirae replies with a smile, but also with a seriousness that surprises you.

>>5885941
As you have throughout the last few weeks—and especially today—you reflect on the full magnitude of the night ahead. You’ve met plenty of ‘little gods’ or ’demigods’, as humans might refer to the True Fey—genuine immortals of divine origin. Princess Miannie, however, is MUCH more than that. She is divine ROYALTY, a celestial patron and heir to the Moon Herself, Rianniane. She isn’t just undying, but ANCIENT, her own birth said to have taken place in a time before time as mortals can understand it.

“You’re nervous,” Priestess Clanirae notes.

“What should I expect?” you ask in turn. “From… From the Princess of the New Moon?”

A thought occurs, and you feel your face pale. If you were still capable, you think you’d have just broken into a cold sweat.

“There aren’t… Protocols, or special rituals or rites I should know, or—”

Clanirae laughs gently and reaches out, squeezing your shoulder without difficulty—for she, like you (apparently), is ‘eladrin’.

“She isn’t a frightening deity, or an overly formal one,” she reassures you, “and even if she was, I think shed make an exception for the one who fought back the darkness to preserve her precious gift to the Elves of Dappulyet, don’t you?”

“Well,” say, trying not to get TOO full of yourself lest you end up like the elder van Houtzmann, “maybe.”

“What do YOU expect from your meeting with Pricness Mianni?” Clanirae asks, catching you off-guard. “What do YOU expect? Or desire?”

“I…”

You linger on the question, eventually answering that what you’d really like is…
>To just meet her, and ask her some questions about the ritual and your condition
>More ancient and esoteric magic—the better to expand your arcane horizons
>To hear the full story of how the Gods of Light came to this realm, and what happened to stymie their plans
>To be of help to the Gods’ grand design—to help mend, heal, and beautify the world, and protect it from the forces of darkness
>To visit the moon
>Write-in

>>5885939
>Take a page out of your father’s book- take your pleasure and romance where you can, whenever you feel like it.
Shame about Sylvare, but I guess that’s what we get for dating children (and I hope she bristles from the comment).

>>5885942
>To just meet her, and ask her some questions about the ritual and your condition
>To visit the moon
I would put down the ancient and esoteric magic, cause this is supposed to be Seeker of Magic quest, but I want our condition resolved, and a deadpan visit the moon comment was too funny to pass up. Besides, talking to a Goddess mano-a-mano is always rad.

>>5885903
>Not exactly
does it mean she did sexual things but not piv yet ? I'll take it as a win if that's the case. The other questions had a nice answer as well.
>>5885939
>You miss them both—or at least one of them—and long for them, unashamedly
man, while I didn't expect her to fall for us, that's such a lame way to me rejected. I really thought she'd find it an exquisite experience even if it was just a fling.
>>5885942
>To just meet her, and ask her some questions about the ritual and your condition
My main thing but we can't just pass up the chance to joke about going to the moon
>To visit the moon

>>5885974
>does it mean she did sexual things but not piv yet ?
Tips would have to ask her for details, if it really bothered him

>>5885941
>You miss them both—or at least one of them—and long for them, unashamedly
Dang I didn't know Costella was waiting for us. Now I feel bad.

>>5885942
>More ancient and esoteric magic—the better to expand your arcane horizons
>To hear the full story of how the Gods of Light came to this realm, and what happened to stymie their plans
>To be of help to the Gods’ grand design—to help mend, heal, and beautify the world, and protect it from the forces of darkness

>>5885939
>>You miss them both—or at least one of them—and long for them, unashamedly

>To be of help to the Gods’ grand design—to help mend, heal, and beautify the world, and protect it from the forces of darkness
In particular, see if we can get god-mandated for our Newt Scamander road

>>5885939
>You’re going to swear off women for a while, and clear your head

>More ancient and esoteric magic—the better to expand your arcane horizons.

>>5885942
>You miss them both—or at least one of them—and long for them, unashamedly

pain peko

>To be of help to the Gods’ grand design—to help mend, heal, and beautify the world, and protect it from the forces of darkness
>More ancient and esoteric magic—the better to expand your arcane horizons

we are not a fighting man - if we are to help the world then its knowledge that we need

>>5885878

>>5885626
>Speak with Clanirae about the upcoming meeting with the Goddess of the New Moon
This is more urgent than asking about therianthropes, because the meeting is next night.
>>5885939
>You miss them both—or at least one of them—and long for them, unashamedly
>>5885942
>More ancient and esoteric magic—the better to expand your arcane horizons
>To hear the full story of how the Gods of Light came to this realm, and what happened to stymie their plans
>To visit the moon

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>>5886167
>>5886115
>>5886113
>>5886103
>>5886025
>>5885974
>>5885960
[Locked!]

>>5886688
“You know, when I came here, all I really wanted was to understand the ritual… The Rite of Attunement,” you admit. “To understand what happened to me, and to my…”

You squint. The pain of being apart from them—both Izzy AND Costella—pulls at your heart. Is it just the ritual? Or do you really, genuinely love them? Or… One of them, at least? Can you know for sure, as you are now? All you know is that your fling with Sylvare—brief and disappointing as it was, did not alleviate your longing for them. Izirina’s letter burns a (thankfully only metaphorical!) hole in your pocket.

“To understand what happened to my friends and I,” you continue.

“But now?” Clanirae asks, tone patient but eyes glimmering with expectation.

“Now that I know what the Gods are… What their purpose is here, and how much more there is to know… I want to understand it ALL.”

It’s always been this way with you, after all. You were first drawn to Izirina Henzler by the mystery of her condition, and her origins. You risked you life REPEATEDLY to learn all there was to know about her. At the time, you weren’t sure why. Afterwards, you thought that maybe it was… You know, LOVE. Now, though?

It’s you. It’s always been you. This is who you are: a seeker of obscure and esoteric knowledge. You have a NEED to know, like some shadowy half-reflection of your father’s thirst for adventure and glory. You don’t need to be famous, though, or renowned—not necessarily, though it ahs its perks. You just need to KNOW.

“…But, you know,” you hastily append, “not JUST for my sake. For, you know, the world! The gods came here to make it a better, safer, kinder, and more beautiful place, right?”

“Yes,” Priestess Clanirae agrees, though amusement plays across her pale visage,a s if she doesn’t quite believe you.

“Rright,” you assert. “I figure I could help with that, you know?”

“No doubt you could be a great help,” Clanirae agrees. “You have already been so, to me and to all the elves of Dappulyet.”

“Exactly,” you agree, relieved that your people’s primary envoy to the divine isn’t disqualifying you from your meeting for selfishness or some such thing.

Emboldened, you add: “And you know, I figure it might be kind of interesting to visit the moon, if she’s making the trip back anyway.”

You say it as a joke—deadpan, but even so, you mostly just hope the sheer ridiculousness of it will provoke a reaction in Clanirae. What you DON’T expect his her response:

“That can probably be arranged.”

“Wh-wh-what?!” you balk.

Clanirae just pats you on the cheek comfortingly, and fixes your tilted-askew wizard’s cap.

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>>5886712
“We’ll discuss it more tonight.”

You watch Clanirae stretch languorously, turn on heel, and saunter back down to her resting-place. You consider pursuing her, to demand and explanation, but that feels faintly sacrilegious, and at the very least very rude. You instead just stare down at your remaining food before, filled with sudden appetite, you wolf it down as surely as you wager that Oncyth fellow would have.

That evening, the elves of Dappulyet—and Laskar Endingray, and Ruldofo van Houtzmann, who have after all earned their place here—gather around the centre of Dappulyet’s scared clearing. The sun is low in the sky when the feasting begins. It isn’t like a human feast (full of carbs and meat and fat) nor like a goblin sendoff (mostly alcohol, as you recall). Elves party differently. The festivities are marked by a sort of vegetarian buffet, with each elf gathering portions of every foodstuff and finding those who helped to make it; then, they thank them, and pass secret whispers or small scraps of rough paper covered in elven glyphs describing the recipe—a passing of secrets, however humble, in honour of the Goddess of Secrets Shared, and Goodness Cloaked in Shadow, Princess Miannie of the New Moon.

Central of it all is a decidedly NON-vegetarian main course, though: one of the great beats of the woods: a white-furred, golden-antlered deer, thrice the size of any man of elf and with antlers wider than the span of your father’s arms. It is led into the clearing, head bowed and eyes closed, as if drugged or domesticated, its muzzle only loosely tied with a leash of enchanted and woven willow-bark. You watch with growing unease as it approaches the central altar, where Clanirae stands, solemnly, with an incredibly thin crescent-sickle of silvered steel in her hand.

The stag does not resist, but in its eyes are tears. So, too, the hunters. Yet all know what must be done. To summon forth the goddess, to renew the power of the moons-tone, a rich and noble life must be offered, in good faith and after an honourable hunt, without cruelty or malice.

You were told all this, of course. Being told is one thing, though, and seeing it is another. This is no Unseelie Fey, no goblin raider out for blood and happy to enslave the innocent. This is a herbivore, and no dumb one either—it is a creature of the Sylvan Realm, its sad eyes full of intelligence and wisdom, its natural lifespan measured in decades if not CENTURIES.

>>5886714
“Oh noble one, we thank you,” begins Clanirae, her voice steady and face calm. “You give your life for our lives, and for our safety. You have been our kindred spirit in these woods, and we yours. We have been as friends, as family. When you were a fawn, so were we children. When you were first mated, so did we wed. Now you will die, as we will one day die. You will find your peace in the Heavenly Realms; one day, Gods willing, we will join you.”

She strokes the stag’s face, and the stag leans into the lunar eladrin’s touch, and weeps openly, in a manner disturbingly human—or elven, perhaps.

What do you do?
>Watch the ritual, and utter a prayer to the divine
>Free the deer, come what may, for no one ought to be offered up in such a way
>Object to the ritual, and offer a <Clone> instead
>Summon Oncyth—let him honour his debt by serving as sacrifice instead
>Avert your gaze and let whatever happens, happen
>Write-in

>>5886716
>Object to the ritual, and offer a <Clone> instead
Time to make a horrendous perversion of the beauty and sanctity of life.

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>>5886712
>This is who you are: a seeker of obscure and esoteric knowledge.
He said it! Cheers.
>>5886716
>Watch the ritual, and utter a prayer to the divine
considering our clones have no soul, there's no way they'll accept one in it's place.

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>>5886712
This is who you are: a seeker of obscure and esoteric knowledge.

Kino.

>>5886716
>Watch the ritual, and utter a prayer to the divine
Let’s not trample on goodwill. Not now.


>>5886115

>>5886716
>Avert your gaze and let whatever happens, happen.

>>5886716
>>Avert your gaze and let whatever happens, happen
My heart weeps.

>>5886716
>Watch the ritual, and utter a prayer to the divine

We cant afford to trip out every time an animal is killed.

>>5887266
>>5886759
>>5886803
>>5886904
>>5886964
>>5886726
[Hm. I'll start writing in about an hour, but I suppose I can aggregate this, since it's about 50/50 whether you can stand to watch it and the majority agrees to at least not interrupt.]

>>5886712
>Clanirae just pats you on the cheek comfortingly, and fixes your tilted-askew wizard’s cap.
C-cute

>>5886716
>Use the Calm spell on the poor fellow, and pray for his soul’s journey- and for our lack of courage in the face of our beliefs
Would totally >Free the deer< for a stat levelup in courage ngl, but since I’m too late to change minds, I’d rather we give the fella some peace of mind before his passing- the least we can do is ease it’s suffering.

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>>5887544
>>5887266
>>5886759
>>5886803
>>5886904
>>5886964
>>5886726
"Stop!" You find you voice echoing across the clearing, echoing in the silence that followed Clanirae's sympathetic, but somber, words. The assembled elves all turn to look in your direction- you've upset the solemnity of the moment, and most (if not all) would be annoyed if not offended.

Priestess Clanirae, however, looks at you with curiosity rather than anger. She waits patiently as you bob and weave through the mass of elves and approach the altar, acknowledging only a few scant whispers and glares from those you pass, wondering if you will make it in time, wondering what you will say if you do.

"This is our way, our tradition," she replies. "Her offering, her sacrifice."

The stag finds your eye, its golden orbs scanning you over inquisitively. You hold its gaze as you speak again.

"I know,” you say sadly. “I’m not trying to interrupt it, it’s just…”

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself.

“May I cast a spell to put it… Him… At ease? At peace?”

Clanirae smiles sympathetically. With one hand she reaches out to take your hand, and to guide it to the tearful hart.

“He is already at peace,” she explains, voice soft and slow, the tone one might use when explaining something to a small child. Perhaps, in some ways, this is how she regards you—all the elves of Earth, but YOU especially.

True to Clanirae’s words, the pristine and primeval deer, great and noble, meets your hand with his snout, without resistance. You reach out to it, and feel a kinship with the deer which you can’t deny.

“I could… I could make a <clone> of it,” you note.

Clanirae just shakes her head. She says nothing, but you already know—it is the soul itself that must make the journey, to complete the rite. Your <Clone> spell produces a soulless simulacrum—or so it seems, anyway. There’s so much more to learn… And only one way to learn it: you must see this through.

You ignore the murmurs of the crowd, the growing unease of the elves fo Dappulyet.

“I would… Stay with him, then,” you whisper.

Clanirae nods. She gestures for the assembled elves to settle down, though none had dared to speak against you or to interrupt your aside with the priestess. After all, you ARE the hero of the night and without you this ritual might not even be taking place. You’ll… Just have to live with that.

“Sreen'aur z'hind, sil'in uss.”

With these last words of comfort, the lunar eladrin places her hand upon your own and guide it to take the antlers. No mere participant any longer, you can still only watch as she brings the sickle to the noble creature’s neck. A bead of red wells up upon the tip, parting the whiteness of the creature’s perfect fur. You gulp. Your own eyes produce tears to match those of the sacrificial deer. You grip its fur, a squeeze of comfort, and cast <Calm> anyway—one last kindness.

At the last, you can’t help it. You look away.

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>>5887643
There is a flash of light, beyond your squeezed-shut lids. A prayer goes up and, unable to speak without the risk of puking, you repeat it internally. Before too long, though, Clanirae’s hand leaves yours, and instead finds your face again. You open your eyes, carefully NOT looking at the corpse that was once a deer, or at the deadly weapon which did the deed. If the priestess judges you for it, it doesn’t show upon her features. Instead, she guides your gaze upwards with outstretched finger, up towards the moon-stone’s sacred place upon the top of the blocky mass of sacred stone.

At the apex, its glow brightens—invigorated anew by the offering, one assumes. It glows brighter than you have ever seen it glow without direct intervention by yourself and Clanirae at once. The waters of its sacramental bowl seem to slosh by the wobbling of the light, moving by mysterious currents until they overflow. The water doesn’t splash, however, but rather disperses like a luminous rain, down over the stones. The painted-on chalk white is washed away, revealing a richer and more lustrous light, and that same light seems to refresh and restore the clearing. Every patch of burnt or shredded glass seems to fill once more with green and vibrant life, and even the bloom with small, moon-white flowers—a field of stars to match the sky. You seem the same sort of restoration on the faces of all those present—their quiet sadness at the sacrifice or disturbance at your interruption washed away and replaced with a subtle euphoria.

Clanirae squeezes your hand, and shuts her eyes tight, grinning widely.

“Do you see?” she asks.

You feel… Nothing. You say nothing, either. You seek out your father, wondering if your human blood has denied you this experience, but even he seems overawed by the experience. Even MUFFINS sort of looks like he might be feeling this ecstasy, where he lurks a short distance away from proceedings.

What… What’s WRONG with you?

Before you can give voice to the wretched feeling alienation growing within you, Clanirae falls to her knees beside you, head bowed low. You are alarmed enough to forget your personal worries for a moment, but a moment later you understand what is happening, and develop all NEW worries—and hopes. A single beam of light ascends from the moon-stone into an empty patch of the sky where—somehow—you know the hidden face of Holy Luna gazes down. The blackness is briefly broken by a faint ring of white light and then, in another sudden flash that seems to ripple the air itself, he appears:

Miannie, Princess of the New Moon.

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>>5887646
She is tall, but you cannot say how tall. She might be six feet tall, or seven, or eight or nine or ten. She is thin—not sickly-thin, but elegantly slim, in a way that seems to defy direct measurement. She is, to your feeble mortal perceptions, the beam of light made manifest, expanded across dimensions of perceptions, unfolded into the shape of an elfmaid. Her substance is pure light, but subtleties of its hue and tone give her definition: her skin is lighter than her dress, more whole in its lightness while her dress is subtly accented by each and every colour, one at a time or all at once, depending upon the angle by which you view her and the way she moves or gestures. And her face is… her face is so fine of features that her small, upturned nose is barely even detectable against the shining of her visage, her mouth a thin line between smooth lips. Her ears, long and elegant, swoop upwards and backwards, almost connecting just as Clanirae’s nearly do—no, in fact, they DO connect at the tips, you think! They form a halo-like ring, and within its embrace hovers a miniature star, or something very much like one.

But her eyes… Her eyes are what are most unexpected. Large, and shining, and black as night… Like those of the Unseelie Fey.

Those bleak, terrible, beautiful eyes turn upon you. With a start, you realize that it isn’t only Clanirae who is kneeling—it is every elf present and, yes, even your father has seemingly understood the decorum. You hastily do as the others have, taking off your cap and falling to your knees, bowing your head.

…


Eventually, you lift your gaze, wondering if anything will happen. You cry out and fall onto your rump the moment you do, because the goddess—an ACTUAL GODDESS—is standing roughly a foot away from you, hands resting before her, looking down at you. YOU. DIRECTLY.

“You have done a great service for me, Ezreal Mious of Dappulyet, and for my priestess and my people.”

The goddess’ mouth doesn’t move, and you tremble slightly at what substitutes for her ‘voice’: a frequency of mystical power which vibrates your very self as the vocal chords might be vibrated. The voice is distinguishable—feminine, regal in a way you’ve never experienced before, definitely not YOUR voice—and yet it seemingly comes from within you and from all around you.

“I did my duty,” you respond, voice barely a whisper.

“But not only for duty’s sake, I am told?”

You follow the Divine Princess’ gaze, suddenly shifted from you to Clanirae, who stands beside you once more.

“Don’t worry,” the priestess reassures you. “My mistress does not think lesser of you, for seeking understanding, and the opportunity to help.”

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>>5887649
“This universe is a place of great pain and suffering, and those who would rage against the light and fill the darkness with old enmities and echoes of the evil past… They would worsen that. Even now, their efforts hold back the full potential of this world and its many beautiful souls. They make conflict, and death, a necessity.”

You do not dare look at the sacrificed stag. Not now. Not while the goddess speaks these words.

“You wish to understand this universe?” the goddess asks. “And those of us who exist outside and beyond it?”

“Yes,” you agree.

“You wish to join us in bettering it? In eliminating the malignancy and suffering which thrives in darkness? To make the blackest night clean and clear, safe and nurturing, for all creatures?”

“Yes,” you say again, for such has long been what you believe to be the best use of knowledge and power and right now that conviction is stronger than ever.

“Your majesty, you have heard my prayers, haven’t you?” Priestess Clanirae asks. “This young elfman… He has mastered the old magic, and begun to put it to use.”

“We know,” the Princess of the New Moon acknowledges, her tone rather ambivalent.

“He is young, and new to the ways of things, but his heart is good,” Clanirae says.

“We know,” says the Goddess, more warmly.

“He seeks guidance, and NEEDS guidance, but with it…” Clanirae pauses, takes a breath. “I think he has the potential to begin reversing the course of the rot which has begun to retake this world.”

“I know what you will ask,” says the Goddess.

(That makes one of you)

“He is not a supplicant, though,” Princess Miannie continues. “This young half-elf is a follower of ways which are not ours, with a spirit whose journey of freedom carries him to strange shores, and whose heart is bound in tangled threads of fate and magic.”

“And still,” Clanirae asserts, “I would ask that you give him the guidance he needs, not just for him, or your descendants and faithful, but for our whole world.”

The Goddess looks thoughtful, insofar as you can read her expressions or body language at all.

“Take him to the moon.”

…Wait, ACTUALLY?

“Priestess,” the New Moon Incarnate speaks softly, “there is energy enough in the stone, to allow us this connection and conversation. And, yes, enough to bring one of you back with the connection’s severance. But… Did you not wish to return?”

Clanirae smiles and shakes her head, and looks at you warmly.

“I am feeling somewhat invigorated as of late, and I think I would like to spend a few more seasons here before my next visitation.”

Both goddess and priestess now turn to you. You flinch slightly, the first you have moved since anyone mentioned TRAVELING TO THE MOON.

>>5887651
“What of it, then, young Mious?” asks Princess Miannie. “I trust in my representative here on Earth. If Priestess Clanirae believes you are worthy of the Sacrae Scholae Lunae, I will afford you this opportunity to come with me and study there, amongst the eladrin.”

“M-me?” you balk.

“No one else here would survive such a journey, or to remain there long,” the Goddess answers.

“But you can,” adds your priestess, with a smile. “Thank to your transformation.”

You open your mouth to accept, but then shut it. A few images flit through your mind: the letter which Izirina sent you, with its dire warning of times of trouble ahead, and not FAR ahead. She'd written as if she KNEW something was about to happen, and the way she wrote of it... It didn't sound wholly pleasant. The friction between your two peoples—Man and Elf—and the threats on the horizon for both races from the forces of darkness, make you fear for what might happen in your absence.

And then there’s Izzy herself… And Costella… And all your other friends and family on Earth, of course. Muffins! You'd be leaving them all behind.

“How long would I be away?” you ask. "Could I... Come back?"

“Mastering the mysteries of High Magic can take considerable time and effort, as you reckon time,” the Goddess cautions, “and returning to Earth is no easy thing. There are ways to leave more swiftly, but most means of travel from Moon to Earth are arduous, and time-consuming. This instantaneous option will be available again in a year’s time.”

“You’ll have the basics down by then, at last,” Clanirae says with some confidence. “You’re very capable. I’ve seen that. Even the ‘basics’ will make a world of difference in how you perceive things… How you interact with the world, and understand it. What you can do.”

“If you are not ready to make the journey, I could impart to you another token of my favour, instead,” the Goddess Miannie offers thoughtfully. “There will be welcome for you in the future, should you continue on your path.”

It’s a lot to consider, but in the end you decide…

>To journey to the moon, and study with its sacred sorcerers and scholars
[The next segment of the story will have few of the characters you’ve encountered lately, but will focus on new ones and upon cosmology, lore, and the growth of Tips’ abilities and understanding far beyond his current powers in a relatively-short timespan]

>To remain here on Earth, and to accept another favour
[The next few votes will determine the favour(s) you receive, which will still not be insubstantial, and whether you return to Hawksong or continue to explore the Sylvan Realms of Earth, interacting with more familiar characters, power-levels, and current events ‘on the ground’]

[Consider this a big vote for the tone and content moving forward, essentially setting the direction of the next arc, the character, and the level of power at hand.]

>>5887653
>To journey to the moon, and study with its sacred sorcerers and scholars

Aw shit, here we go again.

>>5886803

>>5887649
a literal ayy lmao
>>5887653
>To journey to the moon, and study with its sacred sorcerers and scholars
the one place we can escape cap- I mean darkness.

>>5887653
>Go
Take that Izzy, I’m pissing on the fucking moon!

>>5887653
>To journey to the moon, and study with its sacred sorcerers and scholars.

Last i checked the only major problem back home after we fixed the dragon pox, was the brewing coalition war between hawksong it's allied duchies and the various divided southern nations. Which frankly isn't our problem, War isn't our cup of tea.

>>5887653
First reptiloids, and now the greys, hmmmm
>To journey to the moon, and study with its sacred sorcerers and scholars
But take Izzy's letter along, it might be able to transport us back in a pinch.

>>5887653
>To journey to the moon, and study with its sacred sorcerers and scholars
Onwards and upwards, this is a perfect way to get our mind off Izzy, gettin taught by moon wizards, also a dope experience we wont share with her because she makes silly decisions and I dislike her actions, plus I dont really wanna mess with Therals progress yet and coming back as an acolyte of the New Moon to deal with scaley men seems more based

>>5887864
>>5887860
>>5887801
>>5887745
>>5887665
>>5887657
You sigh, and shake your head. What a joke—there’s no choice here at all. Not even if you need to leave all your friends and loved ones behind for a year. This is the opportunity of a lifetime. This how you master your aethereal form, how you discover the very fundaments of creation. This is destiny calling—no, more than destiny, this is the fruit of YORU labours, the ultimate destination in YOUR journey. You have made this fate, created this opportunity, and you’ll not let yourself waver on the precipice of such profound revelation.

Mom, Dad… Pearce, Zith-Zi… Testa, Blanchette, Efron… Fenna and the rest of your father’s family… Muffins…

Izzy, Costella…

Well, it’s only a year. They’ll all be there when you get back, surely? How much can really change in a year anyway? You’ve ameliorated the plague that beset HAwksong, and provided the tools to outright cure it. If there are frictions between factions, rumblings between races… Well, what were YOU going to do about it? You’re not a warrior, not really. You’re not a diplomat or official. You’re just… Just TIPS, just YOU. And right now, you don’t find yourself torn or troubled. Not at all.

You’re smiling when you look up, to the Goddess of the New Moon and her envoy to Earth, and say: “I’ll go with you.”

Princess Miannie acknowledges you with a small nod and smile, and turns away to address the crowd, ‘speaking’ to their souls in ancient elven-tongue. Theya re held in rapt fascination as she praises their resilience, and promises them safety and freedom throughout the nights to come.

“The forces of evil may build against the wall which your faith in me, and my priestess, and in one another has erected, but within those walls you will be safe. Do not fear the crumbling of the walls, Children of the Fey. This place is safety, a secret place where your hopes and dreams may reside. Raise your families, teach them well the ways of Feycraft, and treasure one another and this world. What has been set wrong will soon be righted.”

As she speaks the last words, you feel the attention of the Divine upon you again, like a pressure—not uncomfortable or suffocating, but more like a weighted blanket. It brings you comfort as you approach your parents.

“I’m… Going to be going away for a while,” you tell them.

They’re surprised when you explain the goddess’ offer, and your intentions to accept it. Neither tries to stop you, though.